Bobby left with stilted words of farewell, driving Dumbledore back to the airport. Harry knew the headmaster could have simply apparated, but he knew appearances were important. It left Harry in a very awkward position however, as the scent of food wafted out from the house, signaling the Winchesters were downstairs. Had Bobby told them he was leaving? Shifting his weight uncomfortably, he considered a moment. He was hungry. Sooner or later he would have to go back inside, and it would look strange if he simply sat out here until Bobby got back.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry sighed, shuffling slowly towards the door. It startled him when another form appeared on the other side of the screen. Dean peered out at him, looking unhappy, though he opened the door for Harry to enter.

"Where'd Bobby go?"

"Erm... driving Brian to the airport... There was an emergency back home that he couldn't ignore."

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Harry drew in a deep breath, mentally prepping himself for his next words. Rehearsing his speech to Bobby had been easy, speaking to a strange teen his own age could not be that much harder. He had no wish for an American version of Dudley plaguing his time here. Under the scrutiny, he held out his hand hesitantly.

"Look, I am sorry... if I've caused any problems that I'm not aware of. I'll be staying here for a couple of days at least... so I would like to at least be on friendly terms."

Nerves coiled as Dean simply stared at him for a moment longer. It occurred to him with sudden clarity that perhaps this was how Draco had felt, extending a hand of friendship on the train to Hogwarts that first time. Such did not make the little ferret anything less, but he could understand the ensuing hostility. The feeling of rejection was quite humiliating. He had nearly lowered his hand back to his side, before Dean snatched it up, grip brief but less crushing than the first time. He shrugged his shoulders, harsh expression lightening.

"Nah, it's okay. Sorry I nearly broke your hand. 'S just weird having someone other than Sammy around while we're here."

Nodding his head despite not understanding the logic, Harry blinked as he was waved inside, stomach rumbling. Dean quirked an eyebrow at the audible noise, causing Harry to blush.

"Couldn't eat much before the flight."

"Well come on then. Plenty of food so long as Sammy hasn't eaten everything."

They were greeted by Sam and John in the kitchen. The table was only big enough to seat three, pressed against the wall as it was. Various papers and ordinary items were shoved against the wall, which housed what looked like a heavy curtain. He found it strange, since there was no window behind it, but shrugged it off as some strange American thing. Sam greeted him with a smile, waving him into the remaining seat beside John. The man was intimidating, but less so, with an olive caught on the stubble below his lip.

None the less, Harry squirmed under the hard stare he received. The man paused to wipe his face with a napkin before getting down to business, as it were. Harry really was beginning to wonder at their social skills.

"Why are you staying with Bobby? If you don't mind my asking."

Something about his tone told him there was no option on whether or not to answer. He was saved for the moment, by Dean handing him a paper plate with a slice of pizza on it. His stomach rumbled again, far more audibly. He figured he would be forgiven for his silence, as he brought the slice to his lips. It was wonderful. He normally did not like onion, but the rest of it masked the taste enough to ignore. He had only experienced the delight of pizza rarely in his life. The Dursleys had considered it far too plebeian, except for when Dudley demanded it on special occasions.

Witnessing John tapping his finger impatiently on the table top, Harry thought it prudent to quickly swallow his mouthful and set the piece down. Clearing his throat, he pondered what exactly he should say. Obviously Bobby had not told the Winchesters anything. Though, logically, he figured it would be hard for them to miss, if his... step-father (Dad? The question of what to call Bobby made his head reel) was serious about wanting to know him.

"Well, you see... Mr. Singer invited me here. Mrs. Singer was my mother."

Everyone startled as Dean knocked over the paper towel holder. He blinked owlishly at them, blushing faintly as he righted the object on the counter. Harry could not blame him, honestly. If they had known Bobby for a while, it would be just as shocking to them as to the people directly involved. It was John who broached the awkward silence that ensued.

"You're Karen's son?" There was a hint of disbelief in his tone. "How come Bobby never mentioned you?"

Harry shrugged, prodding his slice of pizza longingly, though too polite to try dodging anymore questions. "Neither of us knew. She put me up for adoption when I was born."

John seemed the mull the information over, as if calculating the validity. Another habit to file away. Harry decided that these people reminded him of others he had met who had participated in the last wizarding war. Taking a tentative guess based on John's age, Harry decided to turn the tables a bit.

"Were you on active duty, Mr. Winchester?"

The sudden question seemed to stump the man for a moment, before his lips quirked into a smile. He had a nice smile, Harry rather liked it more than the stare. Rubbing the back of his neck, he turned back to his pizza while he waited for an answer.

"Yeah. 'Nam, seventy-one to seventy-three. How'd you guess?"

Harry shrugged wiping his face with a napkin, mind scrambling. He really wanted to lie to these people as little as possible. "My parents, my adopted parents, that is, were killed during a civil spat in England. I figure, it may as well have been a war, from how many people died over it... The police got involved years too late."

Down-playing the wizarding war caused him near physical pain. Genocide was something he considered a big deal! Thankfully John seemed to understand, nodding. "Where're you from?"

"A small village near Wales... Godric's Hallow, originally. I've lived with my aunt and uncle in Surrey since I was a year old."

Some strange expression crossed John's face before disappearing. "I heard of it. Half the town was leveled in a fire some years back. Guess that explains why. I thought it had the stink of a cover-up, probably didn't want the real reason behind it going international."

The news made Harry flinch before he could suppress it. He knew his house had caught on fire after Voldemort tried to kill him, but he had not known the extent of the destruction. The man shot him an almost apologetic look, inferring the reason behind his expression. None the less, the pizza tasted like cardboard now. He ate automatically, listening with only half an ear as Sam engaged the man in an argument over school.

"But Dad, why can't we just stay with Uncle Bobby this year? I could-"

"You know why, Sam. Don't start this again."

It seemed like an old topic, the back and forth words nearly rehearsed. Personally, Harry did not have a clue why John would argue against Sam attending a public school. It was none of his business, however. He had problems of his own without jumping into a conversation he had no place in. Dean looked distressed as he watched his brother and father, their tones growing heated. At last, the older boy stepped in.

"Hey, Sammy, leave Dad alone. He's been driving all day, and we're all tired. Why don't you go read or something?"

The look of betrayal on Sam's face was keen, and even Harry felt a bit guilty despite having not been involved. Standing from his chair, he stormed out of the room and up the stairs. Somewhere above them, a door slammed. John let out a ragged sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face while sparing Dean a thankful look.

"Sorry you had to hear that, Harry."

He offered no more explanation or apology on the topic. "Dean, why don't you show him to his room? I doubt Bobby did."

The other boy seemed eager to leave, motioning for Harry to follow, and heading for the stairs before the wizard could even stand. They left the man cradling his face in his palms, looking ragged and tired. The charged atmosphere was nearly stifling, but Harry paused to snag his school trunk. Mentally praising Dumbledore for his forethought, the scrawny boy had little trouble aside from the bulk, wrestling it up the stairs.

Dean had waited for him, thankfully. Bobby's house really was bigger than Harry was used to, and the upstairs was split into two hallways at the top of the landing. Motioning him down one hallway, the older boy spared a surprised glance at his trunk before waving him into one of the rooms. Situating his trunk by the foot of the bed, Harry observed his surroundings. The room was small, though bigger than his bedroom at the Dursleys. It held a door which led to a closet, a full bed, a nightstand, and a small desk and chair set. Two windows allowed in light, while giving a nice view of the salvage yard. The decoration was lacking, but it looked wonderful for being a guest bedroom.

The other boy cleared his throat, gaining Harry's attention. "The bathroom is last on the left on this hallway. Mine and Sammy's room is across from it. My dad's is right across from yours, and Bobby's is the first door on the other side."

He hesitated a minute before offering, "If ya need anything, Sammy doesn't bite. But my Dad?" He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Dad needs his beauty sleep or he turns into the Beast."

The reference was lost on Harry, though he had a feeling he should know it. Shrugging it off, he was at least grateful that whatever animosity Dean had felt had been dispelled, as it were. Harry really was beginning to resent the silences that seemed common in this place. It was as if they were adverse to companionable silence, or at the very least, idle chatter. Despite not being big on talk himself, it was grating.

"So, erm, what do you do here, while your dad works on cars?"

Dean blinked, looking uncomfortable for some reason. "Me? I help. Sam usually sits on his ass reading all day. Kind of a thrill kill... You ever work on cars before?"

"No. Done plenty of gardening and house work, but my uncle would never let me touch his company car unless it was to wash it."

"That kinda sucks, dude. Hey, why don't you hang around while Dad works on the mustang? If Bobby'll let you, I mean. Seems like you two'd have a lot of catching up to do, or something."

Shrugging, Harry scuffed a toe against the hard wood floor. The notion of learning auto repair had never actually occurred to him. He admitted to some curiosity. "If Bobby doesn't want to talk or anything, sure."

"Cool. Ah, I'll leave you to get settled in, yeah?"

Without waiting for a response, Dean wandered out to bang on the door to his and Sam's room. The kid had obviously locked the door from the other side, from the sounds of the doorknob rattling. Curious, Harry closed his door and was both pleased and curious at discovering an old fashioned lock. It provided him some security, as despite the keyhole, the locking mechanism was on the inside of the room. It would do wonders in ensuring that he could complete school work without fear of discovery.

Locking the door and testing it, he was pleased that it worked. Leaving it so, he stood in the center of the room, wondering what to do. He did not think it wise to unpack his belonging, even simply to stow his clothing in the dresser in the small closet. On the other hand, he thought it might send the wrong impression to his host, if he did not display some of his things. He really did want to get to know Bobby, and looking as if he were about to bolt any second would not do.

At a loss for a moment, Harry knelt before his trunk and opened it, pondering what he had that would be safe to display. A couple of his school books perhaps. His herbology and magical creatures texts could easily be chalked up to fairy tales. Judging by the things Bobby seemed to collect, he doubted it would cause issue if he had fictional books on plant lore or beasts. His divination text was right out, however. Even he thought the subject was completely batty. Spying a book Hermione had foisted off on him last year, he pondered a moment.

Did muggles know about numerology? He thought they did, but could not be certain. Shrugging, he added the book to the pile. If Bobby asked, he could play it off as a maths book. Likewise, he added 'Hairy Snout, Human Heart' to the mix. He had picked up the book at Hermione's insistence, after discovering what Remus was. Both pleased and a touch contrite at his meager collection of 'safe' books, he stacked them haphazardly on the desk along with the flute Hagrid had given him during his first year, and the pocket knife Sirius had gifted him with.

Next he turned to his clothing. He should at the least, leave a couple articles on top of his trunk for later. Though he was truly embarrassed at the state of them for once. The only clothes he owned besides his Hogwarts attire, were Dudley's hand-me-downs, and the sweaters Mrs. Weasley had knitted. The sweaters were far too warm for the current time of year., while the near-rags were far too large on him, and worn down after years of use. Since he had started Hogwarts, his relatives had not dared even give him that much. For once, Dudley's fat had served Harry at least. Even the clothes from when they were pre-teens still fit loosely.

Letting out a sigh, he shrugged off the embarrassment. He had what he had, and he was proud of the few things he did own. Clothing was only a second thought compared to the things that really meant anything to him. If anyone asked, he could just as easily tell them the truth. Dumbledore had told him to use his own judgment, and had already hinted that the Dursleys were unfit guardians. He knew that what they had put him through was wrong. The only reason he had put up with it was because he had no wish to end up in foster care.

A quiet knock the door interrupted his debate. Startling, he quickly pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, closing his trunk and draping them over it. Hurrying to unlock the door, Dean quirked an eyebrow at him. Shuffling slightly, Harry fought back the urge to try blocking the boy's view into the room. He was nervous about displaying his things as if he belonged. To the contrary, Dean looked pleased.

"Settling in okay?"

Nodding, Harry shrugged. "I'll be here at least a couple of days, it didn't seem right not to."

"Hey, it's okay. Bobby wouldn't have invited you here if he didn't want you to make yourself at home."

The other boy sounded mature for his age, as he reassured Harry. It made the wizard wonder what kind of life they led for such things. The only fifteen year old Harry knew of to be so serious, was himself. Shrugging off the thought, he was distracted as Dean motioned towards the stairs.

"Bobby's back. Said he'd be out in the garage if you wanna come down. Might be a nice shot at talking and getting to know cars at the same time."

Stepping to the side of the door, it was clear that Dean was giving him little choice on the matter. Repressing another sigh, Harry acquiesced, moving past the other boy and making his way down stairs. He floundered a moment, scrambling to remember where the garage was outside. Peering down the hallway, he spotted the backdoor, figuring that would be faster than going out the front. He hesitated when he stepped outside, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the piles of scrap metal and cars.

"Dean told ya I was out here?"

Repressing a twitch as Bobby poked his head around the corner of the 'garage', Harry nodded. The garage turned out to merely be a metal lean-to packed with auto equipment. It was highly disorganized to the point where even Harry was mildly horrified. Making his way over, he gaped a bit at the car Bobby hovered over. It was beautiful, despite his lack of knowledge. Catching his expression, Bobby waved him over to the open hood.

"You ever work on a car before?"

"No."

"Well, now's as good a time to start as any."

Bobby was an impatient, if thorough teacher, Harry soon discovered. His knowledge of cars was mind boggling, and the wizard found himself scrambling to remember everything, as he began pointing out various components of the engine. Despite Harry's fumbling hands, the man did not seem to lose patience with him, merely pointing out needed tools and where they were in the mess. While it looked like chaos to Harry, there was obviously a system, if only understood by the man himself. Satisfied with their collection of tools, Bobby began pointing out what needed to be fixed and how, starting with the carburetor.

Working on the car kept them occupied for most of the rest of the day. It was not until John wandered out to turn on flood lights for them, that Harry realized how late it had gotten. The sun had disappeared almost fully below the horizon without a notice. Bobby seemed just as startled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The other man observed them with a slight smirk.

"What?"

Bobby shifted uncomfortably, and Harry could understand. He was embarrassed, but pleased, with the easy companionship he and Bobby had fallen into during the work. The Winchester shrugged.

"Nothin'. Just thought you'd wanna know, Jim called."

Bobby raised an eyebrow, "Oh? What'd he want?"

"Nothing much. Caleb got himself mixed up with the cops again."

"Balls!" Harry blinked bemusedly. What a strange expletive. Watching with interest, he witnessed another exchange of looks. "He need bail money or something?"

"No, I took care of it. Just be expecting a call soon."

Handing Harry the rag, Bobby made his way inside, still cursing and muttering under his breath. The wizard wiped as much of the grease from his hands as possible. He felt dirty, but in an accomplished way, such as winning a quidditch match in the mud. He certainly required a shower at some point, though John waved him inside, pointing him towards the sitting room-turned-library/museum. Having wiped some of the muck off on his jeans during his work, he felt a bit guilty, though happy to take a seat on the couch. John did not seem to think much of it, at least.

The man passed him a soda, returning from the kitchen, keeping a can of beer for himself. They sat in companionable silence for a moment. Somewhere upstairs, he could hear Dean and Sam arguing over something, though he did not care to get himself involved. As he had learned with the Weasleys, leave sibling rivalry alone. Likewise, he could hear Bobby somewhere in a back room, presumably speaking with someone over the telephone.

Glancing around at the various items lining the shelves, Harry missed John's calculating look. "So, how old are you, exactly?"

"Fifteen. My birthday was two days ago."

John looked surprised for some reason. "Huh. Dean's only a year older than you. No offense, I thought you were closer to Sam's age."

Ire raced up Harry's spine. Of course he was small for his age, thanks to the Dursleys. How on earth could he be mistaken for a twelve year old though? Sensing his irritation, John held up a hand to stave off any verbal response.

"You need to put on some weight, kid. Looks like a strong breeze would knock you over."

Glancing down at his own frame, Harry deflated. Of course the man was right. Dudley's 'diet' of course meant that he had been on near starvation rations most of the summer. Even compared to his normal fare with them. His attention was drawn back to the man, as he sat forward, hands clasped between his knees. He looked relaxed, but it was deceptive.

"There's a reason you're here... other than Bobby, isn't there."

It was not a question. Even if it had been, Harry shook his head negatively. "No offense, but that is a conversation I should have with Bobby, not you, Mr. Winchester."

John gazed at him for a long moment, before something akin to respect lit his eyes. He nodded, leaning back. "Fair enough. Call me John."

They were interrupted as the man himself finally entered the room, beer in hand. He looked a bit frazzled from the phone call, though Harry supposed it was understandable to be tetchy after discovering a friend was in trouble with the law. John excused himself, shooting Harry a look as he exited to retire to his bedroom. Obviously he expected that conversation to happen sooner rather than later.

Mentally preparing himself, he tried not to think on Bobby's possible reactions. In reality, he knew he would have to come out with it soon, if Dumbledore's plans panned out. To say nothing of everything else he was currently hiding. He was certain that if he were to stay with Bobby for the summer, especially if it remained a fixed arrangement, the man would need to know of his wizard status eventually.

"Heavy thoughts for a scrawny thing."

He blinked owlishly at Bobby, slight scowl working its way past his lips despite all efforts. The man claimed John's vacated spot in one of the chairs, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. A once-over at least made Harry more comfortable sitting on the couch without a wash. Bobby was far dirtier than Harry, having done more of the work. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he decided to bite the bullet.

"Bobby, can... can I talk to you, about something?"

The man raised an eyebrow at him, removing his hat and tossing it by his feet. "That's ominously vague."

"It's just... I figure you ought to know something. I mean, it was a large part of my childhood. If... if you want to know, that is."

Harry rubbed his hands together nervously. His words obviously sparked wary interest in his host, by the thoughtful frown that appeared.

"I'm listening."

The lack of encouragement otherwise was slightly daunting. Summoning up his Gryffindor courage, he pressed on none the less.

"My... mum's family didn't exactly want me. They weren't on good terms with each other when she died. I was literally left on my aunt's doorstep with a note pinned to my nappy."

He paused, watching Bobby carefully. The man's face was unreadable, but he motioned for Harry to go on. Drawing in a deep breath, he complied. "The... reason Brian wants me here... is because my aunt wants me gone."

It was difficult for him to sit still, as he awaited Bobby's judgment. The fear coiling in his gut was irrational, but felt none the less. This would be the first time in his life that he admitted, partially, to his own mistreatment. Ron and Hermione knew of it, but he had sworn them to silence, worried that interference by wizards would simply worsen things at the Dursleys if efforts failed. Dumbledore had always seemed certain that Harry should return there every summer. He was confident that the headmaster had not known of the situation before, but did now.

Some emotion finally showed on Bobby's face. Confusion, followed close by understanding, and then a quiet anger, though not directed at Harry. The man looked him over critically, hands flexing white on the armrests of the chair. He was livid, the wizard could tell, and it made him uncomfortable until Bobby spoke up quietly.

"Did they hurt you?"

Staring at his own hands, Harry shrugged. "Not directly. They were more into throwing insults, and making me their slave about the house than slapping me around."

He prudently did not mention the frying pan incident when he was six, or the various bruises gotten from being dragged around by his angry uncle. Or the cupboard. If even the mere notion of mistreatment sent Bobby off, he did not want to know what the man would do if informed of those. They sat in stilted silence for several long minutes, as Bobby got his emotions under control.

Finally, "They starved you."

Harry could not dispute the accusation. His own frame, or lack there of, spoke for itself. "Not normally so badly. But yeah." He refused to defend them or their actions.

Bobby let out a long, slow, breath. Slowly getting to his feet, he motioned vaguely towards the hall. "Go get some sleep. You'll be helping out on the mustang tomorrow."

The wizard simply nodded. He got that Bobby might like some time alone to process the information. He felt bad for dumping so much news on the poor man all at once. Finding out that his wife had an affair behind his back, given up the product of such for adoption, and now that said child had grown up being abused. Everything was affecting Harry less emotionally than Bobby at the moment.

Winding his way back up to his bedroom, Harry undressed as quietly as possible, conscious of the fact that the others were asleep already, from the lack of light under their doors. Laying back, the bed was worlds more comfortable than the firm mattress he was used to during the summer. He simply hoped that he did not have nightmares while he was here. Drifting off to sleep, he spared a thought for Hedwig, wondering if she were content in the Hogwarts owlry.

Harry found himself floating above Hogwarts at night. It felt peaceful, and the hundreds of windows lit up to silhouette the starry sky with the towers and ramparts, reflecting in the waters of the lake. Where sky and water met, was difficult to discern save vague outlines of the shore. Closing his eyes, he drifted lazily on the current of the wind, relishing in the sensation of flying. He missed flying on his broom.

When next he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find the castle had vanished, replaced with a ramshackle house on a hill surrounded by grave markers. The sight of it jolted his guts, inspiring a terror as he drifted closer against his will. Whatever lay within that house, he certainly wanted nothing to do with it! He blinked.

The inside of the house was nauseating compared to the outside. A smell halfway between rotten meat, and moldy cabbage assaulted his senses, making him gag. Some hysterical portion of his brain shouted that it was impossible to vomit in a dream. The wallpaper was faded and streaked with filth best left unexamined. The floors and ceilings were in a similar state, some holes evident; one allowing an unobstructed view into the basement.

Harry wished he had not looked. Lifeless eyes peered up from the darkness, pale face mutated into a look of abject horror at whatever had ended the woman's existence. Worse still. The wizard reeled away from the hole, clutching his stomach and making a noise half way between a whimper and a growl. Stomach rebelling, he clenched his eyes tightly, trying to sear the image from his mind. There had been a smaller figure laying next to the corpse.

Dreading opening his eyes, Harry was forced to, as a hissing laugh met his ears. Wrenching his eyes open, he glared into violent red. Voldemort. His skin crawled at the proximity, but he forced himself to remain still. The monster was not looking at him, but through him. Turning slowly, Harry's teeth gnashed to keep rage at bay. Wormtail stood mere feet away, bowed in submission, silver hand glinting in the light of the fire place.

Another corpse lay forgotten in the corner, this one male. He had not died peacefully by any stretch. Harry swallowed down more bile, looking away. Wary of looking anywhere else in the room, for what he might see, he focused instead, on listening. The sound of Riddle's voice was nearly as bad, but it focused his intent to not be sick-up.

"What newsss do you have, Wormtail?"

"M-master. The ministry assault... it failed."

"Crucio."

The screams echoed in Harry's ears, but he did not flinch. Despite who was inflicting the curse on the rat, Harry could not deny some satisfaction at his suffering. He deserved far worse for what he had done to his family. The thought did spur him to glance around, carefully keeping his eyes away from the one corner. He spied a window, long since boarded up, but it had gaps enough to glimpse the sky. Willing himself to move, he approached, peering out. He was indeed in the house he had seen before, though it offered no clue as to the physical location.

"That is not what I was asking about, imbecile."

"I'm sorry, m-master. Potter," Harry perked up at his name, tensing warily and turning around. They were still focused on each other, neither noting his actual presence. "Is gone. Dumbledore took him away from his relatives. He's untraceable."

Voldemort's face morphed into an ugly frown. He waved his wand carelessly towards Pettigrew, uttering strange words. Lacerations appeared across Peter's skin, causing him to keen out in pain. "You displease me. Were you not supposed to tail the boy, and report his whereabouts?"

"Master, I'm sorry!" His sobbing was pathetic. Harry glanced away again, ashamed of his own vindictive thoughts. Riddle lowered his wand, ending the curse, though the wounds continued to bleed out sluggishly.

"What of the prophecy?"

Pettigrew shuddered, and his answer was nearly inaudible. "Missing."

The rat's howls of agony rang through Harry's mind, even as he was jolted back to the waking world. He flailed at the sudden change, trying to wrench his eyes open as he felt hands shaking him. The concerned faces of the Winchesters, and Bobby, gazed down at him. He blinked as liquid oozed sluggishly into his eye. Swiping at it in a mild panic, he stared blankly at the blood staining his fingers. His scar was bleeding again.