Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Supernatural are not mine.


CHAPTER TWO: Papa A (The Father)

London, England

June 26, 1996 (7:30pm)

The room wasn't anything special. The typical two double beds, a long dresser that served as a stand for the TV, a small round table with two chairs over by the window; still, compared to the room Harry had been expecting at Privet Drive it was practically palatial. He stepped inside and, aware of the man following right behind him, moved quickly to the table where he set Hedwig's empty cage.

"You can have the bed closest to the window," the man said as he set Harry's trunk on the luggage rack in the closet. "Our flight leaves in about nine hours, so we have time for a rest and some food but we shouldn't stay here too long."

Harry remained silent and stared at the man.

The resemblance was definitely there. The same aristocratic facial features, the same almond shaped hazel eyes, black hair that was cropped closely to the man's scalp. In the pictures that Harry had seen, James Potter has been of average height and slim, almost wiry. This man, however, was nearing two meters tall and close to fifteen stones, all of which had to be muscles, and had the archetypical look of an American soldier.

And not at all what he had been expecting.

All the while Harry had been examining him, the man had been staring right back. By the grim expression on his face and the clenching of his jaw, he didn't like what he was seeing. He closed the distance between them, hesitating when Harry involuntarily flinched back from the approach.

"I need to take a look at those bruises," he spoke evenly, motioning to Harry's neck.

"They're fine," the teen rasped with a voice barely above a whisper.

"Right." the man gestured to the bed. "Sit."

Not really in the mood to argue, Harry took the few steps to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. The stranger crouched in front of him, his fingers gently prodding at Harry's throat. "Who are you?" Harry asked after a moment.

"Caleb. Caleb Reaves*." Light brown eyes glanced up at his face before focussing again on the bruises. "I'm your father, Harry."

With a huff, Harry pushed the man's hands from his throat and looked at him with a frown. "I get that; you look too much like James not to be related. But who are you?"

"You shouldn't talk so much." In a gesture that Harry himself did time and again, the man grumbled and ran a hand over what little hair he had. He frowned, stood, and took a few steps back. "I don't think there's any more damage to your throat than some bruising and swelling, but you should keep the speaking to a minimum. I think I'll grab you some ice before we get into things."

Recognizing the delaying tactic for what it was, Harry just crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his 'father' with an annoyed stare.

The chuckled was unexpected, but then again almost everything about the man was unexpected. "You look so much like Lily right now. I promise, Harry, I will tell you everything you want to know. But your throat and neck... those bruises really need tending before they get any worse." Without another word, the American turned and grabbed the ice bucket from inside the small bathroom and exited the room.

Harry sighed and flopped back on the surprisingly comfortable bed. He closed his eyes and draped one arm across them to shade them further. What was he doing? He didn't know this man, not in the least, but there was something about him that Harry wanted to trust. The counter-curse, most likely; the spell he had cast was undoubtedly drawing them together. But it seemed like there was more to it that just magic. The man - his father - was obviously a long way from home, gauging by the accent, and had shown up like some terrifying guardian angel just at the moment when Harry had been certain his Uncle was finally going to kill him.

There were so many questions that would need to be addressed. The man - Caleb - had said 'our flight' so he must intend to take Harry with him wherever he was going. The teen just didn't know if he would be going; at least not yet.

He was coming down from the adrenaline of his Uncle's assault and he felt his body relaxing into the mattress. He inhaled deeply, cringing at the pain in his throat when he swallowed, then exhaled slowly while his mind ran through the questions he would definitely be asking if Caleb actually came back.

The lock clicked and it opened a second later. Harry tilted his head to the side and forced himself to sit up again when he saw the man enter with a now full ice bucket. He gave the wary teen a grin as he closed the door behind him. He didn't say anything before stepping into the bathroom. Harry heard the water run for a moment before Caleb came back out with a couple of towels and a glass of water. The man approached the bed and grabbed a chair from the table. Setting it before Harry, Caleb sat and put the bucket and towels on the floor beside him.

The glass was offered to the youth and Harry accepted it gratefully before taking a few tentative sips. He opened his mouth to begin the interrogation but Caleb shook his head.

"Don't talk," the older man instructed as he wrapped a handful of ice in a cool, damp towel and carefully pressed it against Harry's bruising throat. "Let me tell you everything and then, if you still have questions, you can ask them."

The tepid water felt good as harry took another sip, the ice easing the ache of his throat, and he nodded in agreement. There was a minute of silence, but Harry let the man gather his thoughts.

"I've always known I was adopted," He started, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his knees. "My parents were older, already in their fifties, when they took me in. My father was an Ambassador with the Canadian Embassy until 1963. I was five when we moved back to Quebec. A couple years later, my father retired and we relocated to Florida for my mother's health. She died when I was thirteen."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered sincerely when the man paused, all too familiar with the sense of loss that was evident in Caleb's eyes.

Pale brown eyes smiled at him. "It was the summer of 1979, I was twenty-one, and honourably discharged from the Army after being wounded in a training exercise. I was in a VA hospital when I was visited by Lily and James Potter. I had no idea who they were, and when they told me that James was my younger brother I didn't believe them. Not at first, anyway. We had the hospital run a blood test and it confirmed that we were indeed siblings. After losing my father the previous year, it was nice to have family again.

"Then they told me about the magic. I have to admit, that surprised me even more than having a long lost brother. But after a couple of demonstrations it was easy to accept and I learned the reason they searched me out. I thought they were nuts, to tell the truth. Neither of them was twenty and still they wanted a child. I tried to play devil's advocate, get them to change their minds, until they told me more about the War they were fighting. James knew, given his family, that he would be a main target for the other side. He wanted his family's legacy to go to his son or daughter in the event something happened to him. Being a soldier, I could understand that but the idea of bringing a child into such a dangerous and unstable world didn't sit right with me.

"It was Lily who finally convinced me. She was desperate for a child and promised that every possible protection would be made to protect the baby - to protect you, Harry. I don't know much about the world of Magic, even after spending several weeks with them, but even in the regular world there's no denying woman's intuition. She told me she did not believe James would survive the war, something she never told her husband. Given his family's wealth, he hadn't bothered following a career after school and dedicated his life as a soldier in a guerrilla style war against a madman. Lily just knew that James wouldn't live beyond the fight.

"Obviously I wasn't about to sleep with my brother's wife, no matter how stunningly beautiful she was. Once I was released from the Hospital we approached a doctor in Australia who was testing a new technology to assist parents who had trouble conceiving. It was uncertain how long it would take but Lily was able to be impregnated a month later.

"It was decided between the three of us that it would be best if there was no further contact between James and I until the end of the war. I am not part of that world and I would be a valuable tool against your father for either side. We also intended on keeping the truth of your parentage secret and the best way to do that was for me to not remember. So, Lily used a spell that she had created specifically for that. It would lock away the five months that we spent together locked away.

"However, there were four ways to break the memory block. The first was if Lily lifted the enchantment herself. This they planned to do when the war was over. I was always meant to be a part of your life, Harry, and theirs; at least, after the war. The second was that the spell would begin to fade on your seventeenth birthday. This was an unavoidable contingency of the spell that Lily did not have the time to work around. It would have then been up to me if I wanted to seek you out and tell you the truth.

"The third was if you were brought to me before your seventeenth birthday. Lily and James knew the world they lived in and new the players in the war. If they were both killed they wanted you to have to means to find me if you ever needed a way out. We agreed that your Godfather would be told the truth when you were born and he would have the instructions to get you out of the UK and to me if both your parents died but he didn't think it was safe for you to be with him.

"The last you know. The spell you cast was for you after you began your magical education. It was a worst case scenario failsafe. Fuelled by your blood and magic, it would not just remove the magical barriers on my memories but it would show me your life from the moment of your birth until the casting of the spell."

Harry swallowed and paled. "So you-"

"I know everything, Harry," Caleb said with a soft frown. "I know about the Dursleys and their abuse; I know about the hell you've undergone every year at that sorry excuse for a school; and I know about your Godfather and your friends."

With his eyes clenched shut, Harry couldn't see the man's expression. All he knew was that all his secrets, everything he had hidden from everyone, had been exposed to a complete stranger. He was shaking now, his breathing coming in sharp ragged gasps. He was not expecting the bed to shift beside him or the strong arms to wrap around him.

The feeling was like nothing he'd ever felt. He'd been hugged before, Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had been forever glomping on to him, but this was different in every way. Caleb was solid and strong and didn't try to crush him. The arms holding him felt safe and sure, a promise that he would never be hurt again.

And Harry believed him.

Whether it was the spell or just his desperate need for comfort and kindness, Harry turned in the man's embrace and returned it whole heartedly. His arms were trembling around the man as he pressed his face into to man's chest, burying himself in the smell of his father as he sobbed out his grief and fear and pain and hope. Hope that, just maybe, this man could be his home.

He wasn't certain how long he cried, but Caleb didn't seem in any hurry to separate them. The hold the man had on him remained unwavering until Harry's sobs quieted and his tears began to dry. Only when Harry pulled away himself did Caleb shift his arms to allow the youth the movement he needed.

"I'm sorry," Harry began in a hoarse whisper.

His father just shook his head and wiped at the tears still moist on Harry's cheeks. "Don't ever be sorry, Harry, not for something like this. If you're hurt or scared or whatever reason, I will always be a shoulder for you to cry own. My parents were that for me."

With a nod, the young wizard extracted himself from strong arms and shifted on the bed so they were facing each other. "You really are my father, aren't you?"

Caleb smiled. "Yeah, Kid, I am; if you want me to be that is."

Harry looked into the man's eyes and saw the desire that Caleb tried to hide. Harry returned the small smile. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good, I would have hated to waste these." Caleb got up from the bed and to his things that were sitting on the other bed. He reached into his small travel bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. He held them out for Harry to look at. As he did, Caleb explained what they were. "When I landed this afternoon I went straight to Privet Drive. Petunia is the one with custody of you and it is her signature that was required. The first documents allow me permission to travel with you, a minor, out of the country without your legal guardian. The next is her relinquishing her rights as your legal guardian to that of your biological father. They will be filed once we get Stateside and have a DNA test done to confirm that you are my son. Once that's done, there's nothing anyone can do to take you away from me."

"In the real world," Harry conceded, "but no one in the Wizarding world will ever abide by muggle documents. If you've seen my life you know about the prophecy. It's either Voldemort or me and once they realize I'm gone they will be coming after me. Both of them! Voldemort will want me dead and Dumbledore will want me as his weapon. As it is, I'd say we've got about another hour, maybe two, before they realize I'm not at the Dursleys and start looking."

Caleb's frown was severe and he started pacing. After a minute he stopped. "I may have seen your life, but I don't have your insight on them or that world. You need to tell me what options we have, Harry."

Harry nodded, chewing on his bottom lip as his mind raced. "Sirius' letter; he said he'd made arrangements with the Goblins to get me out of the country if I didn't use the spell to find you. If we can get to Gringotts in Diagon Alley we can have them hide us until the flight you have booked. I'd suggest staying away from Magical means of travel, even if the Goblins helped us. All muggle ways will be overlooked because of their inherent belief that muggles are inferior to them."

"Okay then," Caleb accepted easily, immediately starting to gather up his thing. "We leave. We don't check out of the room, we just go and not come back. Do you have a small bag? We need to travel light and fast and lugging around your trunk and that cage is going to be problematic. What about your owl?"

Harry was already up and opening his trunk. "I have my school bag that I can stuff clothes and a few things in. Hedwig will find me wherever I go so we can leave the cage. The only thing that might be a problem is my broom - it was a gift from Sirius - and I would hate to leave it behind. But if I take it to Gringotts I can have them put it in my Vault until I can come back for it."

Fifteen minutes later, wearing one of Caleb's hoodies to hide the impressively purple bruises on his throat and his broom wrapped up in a torn up robe, Harry and his new found father were stepping out into the London night air.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Hogwarts, Scotland

June 26, 1996 (10:15pm)

In all his years as an educator, including the years during Voldemort's first rise in power, Dumbledore couldn't remember a year where he was actually glad to see the students leave. The last week of the term had been, with no other way to describe it, horrific.

It all went wrong so quickly that even now, eight days later, the Headmaster was still reeling. If people just trusted Albus to know what was right for them, if Harry would have just listen and done what he was suppose to, things wouldn't have been so disastrous.

Losing Sirius was no big loss. If anything his death suited Albus and his plans so much better than locking the man in his family home he had been. Sirius' ideas regarding Harry were just too dangerous. The death of the Granger girl, or the crippling of the youngest Weasley son, was not something Dumbledore had planned. The repercussions were yet to be felt but he knew it would not bode well for the Potter Heir. If he had just listened to Albus...

The headmaster looked around his office and at the dozens of missing trinkets and monitors. Harry's tantrum had done more damage than he had originally anticipated. Gone now was the monitor he'd had on Tom Riddle, the one he had created when the daring young wizard had dared come for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. He had always known where the man had been and, after his supposed defeat fifteen years ago, where his wraith had been.

The second great loss was the monitors and trackers he had on Harry Potter. Those he could replace in the coming fall when the boy would return to the school after months suffering under the yolk of his whale of an uncle. Each year Dumbledore's compulsions on the family ensure that Harry came to him grateful and malleable. Every year Dumbledore's rescue of the boy ensured that Harry trusted him and relied on him. This year, however, Harry needed to relearn his place. His Uncle would teach him the cost of wilful independence. He wouldn't kill the boy, that task would be left for Voldemort, but Dursley would ensure that Harry was desperate for escape and the sanctuary that Dumbledore offered him.

Really, it was all for the best. The Wizarding World needed a martyr and, with nothing left to lose, Harry Potter would willingly become just that.

The unlit hearth in his office flared to life just then and a worried face of Remus Lupin appeared in the flames. "Professor, are you in?"

Rising from his chair, Dumbledore approached the fire. "Good evening, Remus. I was not expecting to hear from any of the Order tonight. Is there a problem at Headquarters?"

Remus blanched. "You could say that. May I come through, Professor? I'm using the floo at the Leaky Cauldron and this conversation would be best had in private."

"Of course." Albus frowned when the flame head disappeared. He was just retaking his seat when Remus stepped through the fire and the green flames dimmed. The man was not looking well, which was no surprise with the first night of the full moon only four nights away. But it was the grim expression on his face that had the professor uneasy. "What seems to be the problem, Remus?"

"Have you changes the wards to Headquarters since Sirius died?" The werewolf asked bluntly.

The frown quickly turned in to a scowl. "No. While I may be able to add my own security measures to the Black Family Home, only the Head of the Family can change them. Why? What has happened?"

"Moody, Tonks and I missed Harry at the station. By the time we got through the crowds Harry had already left with his Uncle." Remus sighed and rubbed wearily at his stubble covered face. "I still don't understand why he had to go back there, not now with Sirius and Hermione-"

"He needs time to grieve, Remus." Dumbledore fought to stop his eyes from rolling. He'd had this very conversation several times while Harry had been unconscious. He'd thought he'd dealt with it, but perhaps it was time to send Remus on a mission for the Order; one that would see him out of England for the next few weeks at least. "He cannot do that while our world is vilifying him in the papers again."

"I know you're right, I'm just upset that we couldn't talk to Dursley about what goes on in that house." Remus sighed again and shook his head. "But that's not why I'm here. After missing him at the station we went to Privet Drive. I know-" He hastily explained seeing the angry look on the bearded man's face. "-we weren't suppose to be seen there, but we needed to really talk to Dursley. Except Vernon wasn't there and Petunia told us that Harry would not be coming home. She made a point of telling us that now that Harry had other blood family he was no longer welcome there."

Albus cringed. The specific wording would have seen the wards begin to fail. His monitors would have alerted him of that fact, had they not been broken. Unless he could get Harry back to Privet Drive in the next forty-eight hours he would lose the blood wards all together. "I take it you have not found him?"

Remus shook his head. "There's no other blood relation that I know of on either side of Harry's family, so I thought maybe it was something he made up to tell his Aunt. I thought, perhaps, he may have gone to Headquarters instead but... well, I couldn't find the place to check. I thought I knew where it was but I can't even think its name."

A cold chill ran through Dumbledore at the implications of the other man's words. He knew where Headquarters was. It was... The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was located at...

Dumbledore's mouth opened and closed like a gasping fish and his eyes went wide. He had cast the existing Fidelius Charm with himself as secret keeper, and yet he couldn't remember where it was located. The only thing that could affect the Fidelius was if the Black Family Wards reasserted themselves; and that would only have happened if the Black Heir reset them. But Sirius had been the Black Heir and... Oh sweet Merlin!

"Remus, do you know if Sirius had updated his will since escaping Azkaban?"

The werewolf shook his head. "I know he wanted to but he would have to have gone in person to the Goblins. That first year and bit he was on the run and then he stayed in Headquarters when you asked him to. He knew it wasn't safe."

He knew he was trapped, Dumbledore thought bitterly. But at least Sirius hadn't been able to make Harry his Heir. As the Head of the Black Family the boy would have been untouchable. The Black Family was infamous for the protections of its Head and Heir. Disguising his efforts to keep Sirius in the Manor as a means of protecting him had been the only thing that had saved Albus from any unpleasant repercussions. If Harry had been made Heir, and with Sirius' death the Family Head... It was a terrifying thought but a moot one. Sirius hadn't been able to change his will, if the man had even had one prior to his imprisonment. That left the Headship to the next eldest male of the Black line.

"I fear," Dumbledore began morosely, "that Headquarters has been lost to us. Without an Heir designated by the last Family Head, the title would go to the next male in line. Regulus has been long dead and Sirius' cousins are all women. Andromeda Tonks' daughter, Nymphadora, is ineligible as the Black have always been a Patriarchal line, which leaves Narcissa Malfoy's son, Draco, as the next Lord Black. Narcissa would have been notified of Sirius' passing as Draco is not yet of age."

"And she would have instructed him on resetting the wards." Remus groaned and leaned back in his chair. They two men were silent for a moment before Remus looked at the Headmaster and asked, "What about Harry?"

"We must find him, Remus." Albus stressed. It was an honest expression of his current thoughts. He had to find Harry, and fast, or else all his plans would be for naught. "He is only safe from Voldemort and his followers behind the wards of Privet Drive. And I'm afraid that with the Black Family Library at his disposal, Voldemort will use the dark magics within to go after young Mr. Potter."

Remus nodded and rose to his feet. "I'll start making the rounds. Moody and Tonks are already in Diagon and London looking, but I'll get as many of the Order members as I can to help search."

Dumbledore stood as well, fingering his wand while his thoughts were racing through means of locating the boy. "Soon, Remus; we have to find him soon or I fear our world may be lost!"

-0-0-0-0-0-

Blue Earth, Minnesota

June 28, 1996 (4:30am)

The grey haired priest was sitting on his porch, a cup of coffee in one hand and a book nestled in the other. The sky was just beginning to pinken with the first rays of morning and so it was he saw the headlights of the vehicle before the dark blue Dodge Ram truck turned onto his block. He was setting the book on a bistro table next when the truck pulled into his driveway. Walking down the short flight of stairs he was there to greet the driver as the man climbed out of the cab.

Jim Murphy held his hand out to his friend in greeting. "Caleb, how was the flight?"

"Long," the man answered, accepting the hand graciously. "But we were able to get out of the country without any problems."

"And where is your young man?" Jim glanced through the cab of the truck to the passenger seat where the dark haired youth was sleeping with his head nested on a bunched up hoodie against the window. The sight was endearing and the pastor smiled warmly before turning back to Caleb.

The new father was smiling softly. "He fell asleep just outside of Davenport when we stopped for gas. Kid hasn't slept much lately, I think. I know he didn't sleep at all on the plane over or most of the drive out."

"And what about you? Did you sleep any?"

"I rested on the plane but otherwise felt we needed to put as much distance between us and them as quickly as possible." He sighed wearily. "So, not much but I had more than him."

Jim leaned against the side of truck. "So, there were no complications with immigration?"

Caleb reached into the back of the truck and picked up the two small duffle bags, shaking his head in answer. "We got some help from some people on this side of the pond. There's so much I have to tell you about him, Jim, and not just the magic stuff. He's a Lord, if you can believe it, or at least will be once he comes of age. He's loaded, like insanely so; old family money that generations of Potters have added to more than they've taken. He and his grandchildren's grandchildren could never work a day in their live and still have money to burn. But all of his ancestors insisted on working and I see him doing the same when he's grown."

Jim was laughing lightly. "It's your heritage too, Caleb. By acknowledging him as your son, your blood, you too can claim being a Potter."

"I like being a Reaves," Caleb let the bags settle onto the cement drive next to him. "What's more: His Godfather, the one who died just last week, left him everything as well. Another Lordship, properties, and more money that the Queen! It's obscene how much money that kid's going to have to manage. But the worst of it though, Jim, is that he's a celebrity in his society. His account manager - a goblin of all things! - talked to his counterparts in New York and they were more than willing to help hide him once they heard what the poor kid had gone through. Especially if it meant his money was coming across the pond with him. They had a representative waiting for us when we landed and have given him a talisman that will help keep him hidden."

"It's good to know you have some allies in protecting him. It sounds like you'll need it." Jim picked up both duffels and motioned to the still sleeping Harry with a jerk of his head. "He's exhausted, Caleb. Grab him and bring him inside. I've got the spare bedroom set up for him."

"I appreciate this, Jim." Caleb closed the driver's side door quietly and moved to the other side of the cab. "I wasn't exactly ready to be raising a kid let alone a nearly sixteen year old."

"And yet you dropped everything and jetted across the world to find him and bring him home. There's proof enough that you're not only able but willing to be that young man's father." Jim shouldered the bags and watched as Caleb easily lifted the lithe boy into a cradle hold to carry him inside. Harry shifted in his arms but did not wake.

"What kind of life can I offer him, Jim," Caleb whispered over his sleeping son's head as he followed the priest back to the house. "I hunt for a living, never staying in one place long, cheap motel to cheap motel, greasy takeout food every night unless I'm mooching off you. It's not the life a teenager should be living."

"Maybe," Jim agreed as he opened the front door and let the other man enter first with his son, "but maybe it's the life that this teenager needs. From what you told me before you left young Harry sounds like he is desperate need of someone solely in his corner with no hidden agenda."

Caleb considered the older man's words while he carried his son into the small room at the end of the hall. The comforter on the twin bed was already drawn back and Caleb lay teen on the mattress. He removed the boy's shoes and socks, easily shifting the boy's body to relieve him of the poorly fitting jeans and leaving him in his boxers and t-shirt.

"Caleb?" Harry groaned in his sleep, eyes flicking open briefly.

"Go back to sleep, Harry." He pulled the blankets over the still mostly asleep boy, unable to resist petting his hand over the dark unruly hair. Harry all but purred at the contact and leaned in to the touch. "We're at Jims; I told you we'd be staying with him for a little while."

"M'kay." Emerald eyes drifted closed again and Caleb smiled, caressing his son's hair and face once more before leaving the room. He left the door open, not wanting the teen to wake up closed in in a strange environment.

Jim was waiting for him in the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee brewing on the machine. He slumped into a chair at the table, watching as the pastor buttered some toast. "We won't be able to stay for long." Caleb said after a moment.

"I figured." The man finished his preparations and set the small plate of warmed bread in front of the weary father. "Even with whatever aid you were given when you arrived, you will leave a trail. Those people looking for him will eventually find their way to America. You shouldn't stay in one place for too long."

Caleb sighed and picked up a slice of toast, tearing a little piece off and chewing on it absently. "He already knows about the Supernatural; hell, he's a part of it for God's sake! I'm going to have to keep that secret from our own people or he's going to having Hunter's on his ass as well as Wizards!"

"There are some of us already in the know of his world," Jim reminded him. "Myself, Bill and Ellen, Bobby, Rufus; I've already spoken to them and they've agreed to be there for you both if and when you need them."

"But to bring a magic user, even a natural born one, into the Hunters' World?" Caleb shook his head and took a large bite of the toast. "God help me, I've got to be insane."

Jim laughed and picked up his own slice, spreading a raspberry jelly over it. "No more than the rest of us, Caleb."


* No relation to Caleb Reaves of the Brotherhood SN Stories, just an homage to the character created by Ridley C. James, Tidia & Williamson M. Scott. I love their Caleb and while he doesn't fit this story I wanted to use the name.