Chapter 3

Dean and Harry were under the hood of the Impala, showing his son how to do a tune up on the now forty-seven year old car. Harry couldn't quite understand his father's obsession with the old muscle car, but it was fun spending time with him. Dean was telling him embarrassing stories about his Uncle growing up, like how when he was fifteen he had a five foot long strip of toilet paper stuck to his shoe and walked around the local mall until some girls his age told him about it. Harry had laughed making Dean grin, enjoying his son's light, airy laughter. Dean's phone rang and he pulled it out looking at the caller I.D., it was Doc. Richards, glancing over at Harry, he answered it.

"Hey, what's up doc.," Dean grinned and Harry shook his head.

"How are doing, Dean?" Doc. Richards said ingnoring Deans joke.

"Not too bad, doc," Dean hated small talk and Doc. Richards knew it so he decided to get to the point.

"Well, I got the resolts of the D.N.A. test back and I have some good news for you."

Dean smiled looking over at Harry, "could you hold on a minute doc., I'd like to get the rest of the family so they can hear this?"

"Sure," the doctor said smiling on the other line.

Dean motioned for Harry to follow him down the stairs and as they entered the library they saw Sam sitting in front of his laptop.

"Where's, dad?" Dean asked excited.

"In the living room," Sam said looking confused at his older brother.

"Go get your grandpa," Harry ran to the living room returning with the oldest Winchester in tow.

"This better be good," John said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Dean ingnored his father's grouchy protest, putting his cell phone on speaker and setting it down on the table.

"Sorry to keep you waiting doc., your on speaker."

"Well, congradulations Dean, your a father," a cheer went up from the now four Winchesters.

"Umm, Dean?" Doc. Richards questioned through the speaker.

"O.K., lower the volume a little bit, boys," John announced raising his hand in the air.

"Please take me off speaker, Dean, I need to talk to you privately," Dean looked at the phone in confussion, looking up, he saw his father nod his approval.

Picking up the phone he took it off of speaker, placing it to his ear, Dean walked to his room to speak with the doctor.

"Are you alone?" Doc. Richards asked.

"Ya, I'm alone," he said, with a bad feeling in his gut.

"I'm going to start with the fractured wrist, I'm pretty sure you already know that he didn't get it from falling off his skateboard."

"Ya, that was an easy one," Dean quietly said running his hand through his hair.

"It was twisted by someone strong, an adult most likly, seeing that, I took the librity of taking a few more x-rays, arms, legs, ribs and head, they were free of charge by the way."

Dean closed his eyes swiping a hand down his face, sighing, "what did you find, Doc.?"

"He has pins in his right knee as well as his left elbow, they're pretty old, I'd say the ones in his knee he got when he was around five maybe six, as for the ones in his elbow I'd say eight maybe nine years old."

Dean's heart sank to his stomach, he sat down on the edge of his bed putting his hand over his eyes fighting back the tears.

"You still there, Dean?" Doc. Richards inquired.

"Still here, Doc.," he said pulling himself out of his thoughts.

"He's sustained multiple fractures on four of his ribs, they've healed up, so there's nothing to worry about," sighing the doctor continued. "That's not to mention the overlapping scars and bruises, plus the malnutrition, that I'm sure you know about, Dean, that little boy has been brutized for most of his life, I'm sorry to say this but, I'm surprised he survived, your son is very tough, if that's any consulation."

The tears began to come, falling from Dean's eyes as the information about his son started to sink in.

"I have a lawyer friend that works in London, I've already gave him the heads up about you wanting to adopt Harry, he's a hunter and a father himself, he'll get those bastards to relinquish guardianship of him one way or another, let me give you his number."

Dean took down the number and thanked Doc. Richards, hanging up on the man. He sat on his bed, emotions, way too many emotions then he was use to experincing all at once. Anger, fear, saddness, it all welled up inside the hunter threating to explode. He needed to tell someone about what he just found out, needed to let it out before it ate him alive.

Walking into the library, he saw his little family laughing and carrying on, joking with one another happily. Harry looked over at his father smiling brightly, Dean had to grin disspite the situation. How his son could still find the strength to trust and love other people was beyond him, he would have lost that abilty long ago.

"Dean, is there something wrong?" Sam asked reading his older brother's expression.

Dean sighed, pulling out a chair sitting next his son and running his hand through the thick mess of hair, "Harry, son, we need to have a talk."

Harry lay in his bed, exhausted both physically and emotionally. When his father had confronted him about the abuse, he automatically denied it. When his family told him that it was alright to tell them about it, that it wasn't his fault and he had nothing to be ashamed of. Harry finally broke down telling them everything. Through sobs and tears, he told a horror story that was his life, before finding out about his real father and running away to meet him. Tired and feeling exsposed Harry allowed his father to carry him to his bed to rest and think about what had just happened. The secrets that he had always kept, even from his best friends, were now out in the open. His Uncle explained to him that this was the beginning of a healing process, he hoped his Uncle was right.

Getting out of bed he walked out of his room and headed towards the kitchen, he noticed the light was on within and opened the door slowly peeking his head inside.

John looked up from a case file that he was going over, with a cup of coffee next to it, "You just going to stand there gawking or are coming in?"

Harry walked in sitting across from his grandfather.

"Couldn't sleep?" John questioned his grandson, noticing the dark circles under his eyes.

Harry nodded his head not looking up at his grandfather, "you have trouble sleeping, too?"

"No, just old habits die hard, from being on the road hunting all the time," John explained taking a sip of his coffee.

"What are you reading, grandpa?" he asked trying to change the subject, his father had gotten on him about at least making an effort at getting a good night's sleep.

"It's a case that I think we need to look into, haunted crematorium, several people have gotten hurt inside over the years,mostly teenagers looking for a quick thrill," not feeling the need to sugar coat it, John continued, "over the coarse of the last forty years, since it closed down, there's been three deaths, two missing persons, and one that ended up in a phych ward."

John pushed the file towards Harry, surprised, the boy pulled it closer and began reading the file. It was filled with newspaper clippings and Xerox copies along with photos of the victims. He read through some of the articles and looked at some of the photos.

"So, how do we get rid of the spirits?" Harry asked looking up.

"Usually we salt and burn the remains."

"But, grandpa, it's a crematorium, they burn the bodies there," he said looking at the old hunter confused.

"True, but there could be items that have sentimental value to them when they were alive that are still there, keeping the spirits bound to the crematorium," John explained, getting up to refill his coffee cup.

Harry sat wondering why sentimental items would be doing at a crematorium, when it suddenly dawn on him, "are you talking about... stealing from the dead?"

"That's about the gist of it, I'm not talking about a rings or necklesses either," taking a sip of his coffee, giving his grandson a stern look, "more like gold or silver teeth, which counts as remains."

Harry gagged at the thought making his grandfather laugh, "that's just gross."

John looked at him with a content smile on his face, "you like ice cream?"

Dean walked into the kitchen to find his father and son going through a carton of chocolate ice cream and a tub of cool whip. Harry turned, giving his father a guilty look.

"Are you serious dad, it's two in the morning," Dean said with annoyance indicating the sweets on the table.

John mearly scooped up more ice cream with his spoon, glancing over at his oldest, "grandpa's rights," he said winking over at Harry. Trying to hide a smile Harry stuffed another spoonful in his mouth.

"Fine, but your cleaning up the mess," Dean said turning around smiling.

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"So what we need to do is find any items or remains and burn them right," Harry nervously blurted out looking over at his father.

"Harry, will you please relax, just breath son, o.k., we're still a couple of hours from the crematorium," Dean said keeping his eyes on the dark road following his father and brother in the black truck.

"That's easy for you to say, you've been on what, a million of these," Harry said leaning into the seat.

"Trust me, son, I still get nervous everytime I go on a hunt, I guess that's part of the thrill of it," he grinned, watching Harry stair out the window, then turning back to the road.

"How old were you when you did this for the first time, dad?"

"Well, I did my first salt and burn when I was about ten, but my first real hunt wasn't until I was sixteen, put a silver tipped arrow right through a werewolf," Dean grinned at the memory.

"I don't know if I can do that, salt and burn, putting a spirit at rest is one thing, but to kill something," Harry thought for a moment, "I don't know if I can."

"Sometimes, son, doing the right thing isn't easy," Harry looked over at his father not quite understanding his words, but taking them to heart.

"Do you agree with taking Harry with us, dad," Sam asked looking over at John as they traveled, the oldest hunter's truck leading the way.

"It's not my call, Sammy," John said not taking his eyes off the road.

"Well, I don't, this could turn out to be more then a simple salt and burn, Harry could get hurt," Sam announced turning around to see the Impala following at a disstance.

"It's not your call either, son," he said quietly.

Sighing, Sam staired out the windshield of his father's truck, still a bit angry with the situation. The two brothers had had an argument about bringing his nephew along on the hunt, Sam didn't want him involed in the family buisiness. Hearing that he went to a boarding school for gifted children made Sam a little more protective over the boy. Unfortunately, for Sam their father had interjected, telling him that it was not his place to tell Dean how to raise his own son. Besides, Harry did want to go along to see what the family buisiness was all about.

Pulling up to the crematorium, the four Winchesters got out, flashlights flickered on as they started to gather supplies from the two vehicles. Harry admired his grandfather's set up, everything had a place and everything was in it's place. A simple push of a button retracted a weapons catch in the bed of the truck, where a large foam block held a variety of weapons that were easily excessable. His dad's was more of a jumbled mess of knives, guns, stakes and lots of other types of weapons thrown into a hidden compartment in the trunk. Looking between the two, Harry decided then and there, that if he started to hunt on his own which set up he wanted.

The wind shifted and the Winchesters found themselves down wind to a horrible stench. While the three older hunters covered their nose and mouths, Harry doubled over vomiting.

"Harry, you o.k.?" Dean yelled running over to the boy.

John came over, handing Dean a bandana for his grandson.

"Merlin's beard," Harry exclaimed placing the bandanna his father gave him over his nose, "what is that?"

"Swamp gas," Sam said looking over at the crematorium. "Looks like the place was built right next to one."

"You o.k., son?" Dean asked helping him straighten up, "kind of smells like your Uncle Sammy after he's eaten a burrito."

"Man, I'm never going to Taco Bell with you, Uncle Sam."

Sam grinned at his nephew, "keep it up, shrimp, you'll be riding home with me and that'll be our first stop."

"If you boys are done screwing around, we got work to do," John said handing Harry a small sawed off .410 gauge double barreled shotgun and a bandoleer full of rock salt shells.

The four hunters, well three and half hunters headed towards the crematorium, seeing the doors chained with a lock. Dean put down the duffle bag, opening it up pulling out a large pair of bolt cutters and handing them over to Sam.

"Do the honors, Sammy," Dean said stepping away from the door.

Harry watched as his Uncle Sam cut the lock in one quick snip. Removing the chain and opening up the door, Dean took point with Harry next, keeping the boy between himself and his father. Sam took up the rear, closing the doors behind them.

Walking behind his father, shotgun in hand, Harry jumped at every little noise as the foursome crept through the hallway.

"So where do we start?" Dean asked looking over at his father.

"Well, there's got to be an office around here, let's start there," John said.

In the office the four Winchesters searched for clues, going through a couple of desks they found nothing more then some scrap paper and dead bugs. Dean found a dead rat and called Harry over, throwing the dead rat at him making his son jump back, letting out a screech, startling the other two hunters.

"That wasn't funny, dad," Harry quivered kicking at the dead rodent.

"Stop screwing around, Dean," Sam chastised his older brother, John mearly shook his head at his son's prank.

"What are we looking for anyway?" Harry asked.

"Not really sure, Hair-ball," John answered.

"How about a floor safe?" Harry asked climbing over some rubble, shinning his flashlight on the floor.

"Nice work, son," Dean said picking him up off the collapsed wall and setting him down on the more solid floor.

Sam and Dean began removing the debris from the top of the floor safe.

"Do you think it has what we're looking for, grandpa?" Harry asked walking around the office restlessly.

"Only one way to find," John answered as his two son's finished removing the rest of the callapsed wall.

Dusting off his hands Dean took his flashlight out of his jacket pocket shinning it on the safe, "Harry, stay where we can see you." When the boy didn't answer, Dean began shinning the light around the darkened room," Harry?" he yelled louder, getting worried, "Harry, this isn't funny, answer me."

The trio of hunters began calling the boy's name searching around. Dean began to panic, searching frantically around the room, yelling his son's name louder each time. Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders turning his older brother towards himself.

"Dean, calm down, we'll find him, but you need to stay focused, o.k.?" Sam took out his cell phone scrolling down to Harry's number dialing it, the phone went to voicemail and Sam hung the phone up.

"Your right, Sammy," Dean said taking a deep breath and trying to focus.

"Sam, you get that safe open while me and your brother keep looking around," John said opening up the office door and motioning for Dean to follow. "We'll find him, son, don't worry," John said placing a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him, Dean nodded in response.

Harry wokeup outside on a small island, deep in the swamp, a tree leaned at the edge of the water, pulling the bandanna out of his back pocket covering his nose and mouth from the swamp gas. Pulling out the Zippo lighter his grandfather entrusted to him, telling him to always make sure it was filled, he saw something matallic lying on the ground, picking it up it was his flashlight. Turning it on and closing the lighter, Harry flashed the beam of light at his surroundings, a pang of fear welled up inside of him.

"Dad, Uncle Sam, grandpa," he called out in the dark, swallowing back his fear and closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he calmed himself. Opening his eyes once again he shinned the flashlight around slowly, trying to focus on something. Suddenly he spotted something laying on the edge of the swamp. Slowly he approached it, kneeling down to get a better look. He pulled out a pocket knife that his father had given him, flicking out the blade he used it to probe the object. As he did so, he realized that it was a human skull.

"Merlin's beard," he exclaimed, shinning the light farther into the swamp noticing more skeletal remains.

"Harry, answer me son," Dean yelled.

"Daddy?" a small quiet voice came out of the darkness, alerting Dean.

"Harry, is that you?" Dean questioned heading towards the sound.

"Daddy?" the voice came again.

Dean tried the door that the voice came from behind, pounding on it. John came running over shotgun raised.

"Dean, did you find him?"

"Daddy?" the voice said again, "I'm scared and don't know where I am."

"Harry, get away from the door, I'm going to break it down," Dean yelled through the door.

"What's going on?" Sam interjected coming down the hall.

Dean backed away from the door and using a mule kick, the door splintered at the jam breaking the lock and practically knocking the door off the hinges. The three Winchesters scanned the room with their flashlights, shotguns raised. Sam's beam stopped on a small figure curled up in one of the corners of the room.

"Harry, thank god, are you alright?" Dean asked striding forward towards his son.

John suddenly grabbed Dean by the shoulder pulling him back.

"Dad, what the hell," he said angerly.

"That's not Harry, son," John said quietly, not taking his eyes off the boy in the corner.

"Daddy, I'm so cold," the boy said standing up walking towards them. Suddenly the boy opened his mouth and started letting out a high pitched scream charging at the three hunters. John fired his shotgun dissipating the ghost.

Harry looked at the bones he had collected, there were more bones out in the swamp then the boy could count. Sighing, not knowing where to go from here, he decided to build a fire hoping that his family might see it, when suddenly he remembered the cell phone in his jacket pocket. Not used to carrying one he could have kicked himself for not remembering about it before. Pulling it out he pushed the button on the side to turn it on, when nothing happened he pushed it again holding it down a little longer, still nothing happened.

"Son of a bitch," Harry quoted his father's favorite line, putting the phone back in his pocket. He began cutting small branches off of the old tree, hoping that he could build at least a small fire that would attract attention. When he heard a voice coming from swamp.

"Over here," the voice whispered.

"Who's there," he said looking towards the voice, holding his knife out in front of him and searching with his flashlight.

"Over here," the voice whispered again.

Swallowing his fear Harry slowly walked towards the voice, he heard what sounded like creaking by the water's edge. Getting closer to the noise, he saw what it was, a boat, thanking Merlin for his luck he grabbed the back of the boat pulling up onto the small island. Inspecting it with his flashlight it had some water inside but he didn't see any holes at the bottom. Pushing the small boat over to drain it out, he grimaced at the smell of the putrid water. Pushing it back into the water he realized there was no paddle.

"Great hunter I am," he whispered to himself walking over to the tree grabbing onto the largest branch he could reach and putting all his weight on it, snapping a good chunk of it off. Pushing the boat off into the water, Harry hoped that he was heading in the right direction.

About a half an hour of paddling, Harry shinned the light around the gas filled swamp, shaking his head, "bloody hell, how far out am I?"

Suddenly, he heard that same disembodied voice, whisper, "over here," looking about himself, Harry saw a dim light shinnig in the dark, "over here," it said again.

"I don't know what you are, but I sure as the hell hope your taking me to my family," the boy wispered at the light, as he paddled towards it, it moved away as if leading him on.

"Harry!?" Dean yelled out into the swamp, not finding the youngest Winchester anywhere in the crematoium (only a few more ghosts) the three of them went outside towards the swamp. By the edge they found Harry's shotgun, but no sign of him anywhere, making Deans heart sink.

Running his hand through his hair Dean tried his cell phone again, getting Harry's voicemail.

"Harry!?" John and Sam yelled out into the swamp. The three Winchesters were beginning to lose hope of ever finding him

"We need to get a boat out here, he's got to be somewhere in the swamp," John said, the oldest hunter staired out into the dark murky water, thinking about how small his grandson was, all alone somewhere out there. Running his hand down his face, fighting against dispair, John started to turn towards his sons, when he saw a light coming from the swamp.

"Boys!" he yelled at his sons pointing into the swamp, both brothers looked where their father pointed, seeing a light in the blackness.

"Harry!" Sam and Dean yelled out at the same time.

"Dad, Uncle Sam, grandpa!" they all heard the shouting, Dean swiped at the tears that came to his eyes quickly before anyone noticed.

As the small boat came closer to the edge of the swamp, Sam and John grabbed at the front of the craft pulling it onto shore. Harry started to get out, laughing happily at seeing his family once again. Dean no longer could hold himself back, picking his son up out of the boat, he hugged him tightly, tears streaming down his face.

"My god I thought we lost you."

"Dad, I can't breath," Harry gasped out, making the other two Winchesters laugh in relief.

"Sorry," Dean said putting him down on his feet. John and Sam had waited long enough to greet the youngest member of the family. Grabbing him ruffling his hair and patting him on the back, his Uncle and grandfather greeted him as he smiled happily.

"Harry, what happened, where were you?" Dean asked crouching down taking his son by the shoulders.

"I don't know what happened, dad, one minute I was in the room with all of you the next I was on an island in the middle of the swamp," Harry explained.

Harry told them about waking up on the Island, the disembodied voice, the skeletal remains and the ball of light that led him back to them. The three older Winchesters looked around at each other.

"Helpful spirit," Sam shrugged not having any other answer.

"What about the remains in the swamp?" Harry asked looking at his Uncle.

"Probably dumped there by the owners, cheaper then burning them," John explained.

"So was there anything in the safe, Uncle Sam?"

"Just dust."

"So how do we get rid of the spirits?" Harry asked.

"We don't, we get them revenge," Sam said.

As the four Winchesters piled into their vehicles and pulled away, a figure came out of the tree line stairing intently as the hunters left.

"Don't worry,pup, I'll always be there to protect you," turning into his ambiguous form, a black dog, he turned and padded off.

"I don't get it, what are we going to do again?" Harry asked looking at his grandfather as they drove down the road.

"Your dad and your Uncle are going to grab a friend of ours, a psychic, as for us we're going to find a motel and get some rest," Harry sat back in his grandfather's truck sighing.

"Then what?" John looked over at Harry shaking his head he'd forgotten what it was like to have a twelve year old with him.

"Then we summon the spirit of Brian Lem," John said seeing a motel and pulling into the parking lot.

"What go is that going to do?" Harry asked as John pulled up to the office.

Sighing and getting out of the truck John looked over at his grandson, "give me the chance to check us in Hair-ball, then I'll tell you all about it, o.k.?"

"O.K. grandpa."

John layed down on the bed while Harry took a shower, it had been a long night for the oldest Winchester. He had explained the plain to his grandson the best he could, they were going to have start training him if he was going to come along on these hunts.

"Man, that felt good," Harry said coming out of the shower, "so when are we soppose..." Harry trailed off hearing his grandfather snoring loudly. Seeing him sleeping Harry smiled, laying down next to the old hunter he put his head on his shoulder closing his eyes falling asleep, feeling safe.

Back at the crematoium John and Harry waited for the other two Winchesters, having spent the day getting his grandson a cell phone and almost getting arrested. John had told the cell phone dealer that Harry's cell wasn't working. The man told him that Harry probably got it wet and they couldn't replace it. Angrily John had thrown the phone at the man behind the counter saying that the damn thing almost got his grandson killed, Harry got inbetween them and pulled his grandfather out of there before they called the cops. Eventually they had found another store and bought Harry a new one. Hearing the Impala's growl as Dean and Sam pulled up they exited John's truck.

Sam took Missouri Moseley's hand helping the pychic out of the back of the car, thanking him for being a gentleman she smiled when she saw John and Harry.

"John Winchester," she exclaimed hugging him, looking down she saw Harry and smiled brightly. "You must be Harry, Deans little boy."

"Yes, ma'am," he said looking up at her.

"Ooo, polite and good looking, I like that, not like your father, he was a goofy looking kid ," taking Harry under the chin she began to get a sympethic look on her face. "Oh, honey I'm sorry about your parents and you did the right thing by yourself coming to find your daddy," she leaned in closer to whisper in his ear, "I think you should tell your family about your secret, they'll understand, especially your granddaddy."

Harry looked at the woman in shock, barely believing what he had just heard, "thank you, for the advice, ma'am."

"Well, lets do this," she said straightening up.

Dean walked over to Missouri handing her a ring, "do I want to know where you got this from."

"Probaly not," Dean answered scratching the back of his head.

Walking towards the swamp the group formed a circle, holding hands, "I invoke, conjure and command you appear unto me within this circle, I invoke, conjure and command you appear unto me within this circle," as Missouri spoke the summoning ritual a light began to glow in the middle of the circle. Soon the spirit of Brian Lem appeared and as he looked around his face begain to twist in fear. Lights began to emanate from the swamp, glowing brighter at each second of the clock. Suddenly each in turn began slamming into the spirit of Brian Lem, dozens upon dozens making the bombarded spirit scream in pain. As the last of the spirits slammed into him an explosion erupted sending white light everywhere and then it was dark again.

"It's over, the spirits are at rest now," Missouri said looking around at the hunters.

Back at the motel Harry sat on the couch freshly showered, stairing at the t.v. but not really watching. John sat down next to his grandson after a hot shower and looked at his face, he could tell that the boy was in deep thought.

"Something on your mind?" John asked eyeing him.

"Can you keep a secret, grandpa?"

"If you mean keeping secrets from your dad, I'm not willing to do that, me keeping secrets from your dad and Uncle almost tore us apart at one time."

"If I promise to tell him, will you promise to keep it secret between me and you," Harry gave his grandfather a puppy dog look that John couldn't resist.

"Alright, but you need to start trusting your dad a little more," John said sighing.

"I do, grandpa, but right now I need to find a way to tell him, thats all."

"So whats this secret of yours?"

"What do you know about wizards?"

"Well I know that they're a secertive bunch, their magic is natural, they're born with it rather then getting it from demon deals," John said not batting an eye at his grandson's question.

Not expecting that kind of an answer, but realizing that Missouri was right Harry relaxed, "Your a mystery, grandpa."

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The four Winchesters were out celebrating Harry's official adaption at the local restarant. The lawyer had pushed it through as fast as he could and had no problems getting the Dursey to sign over custody

"How come we never eat at home?" Harry asked finishing up his desert.

"We do," Dean answered.

"No we don't you make burgers and we eat ice cream or pie, I'm talking about a real meal."

"Dude, do we look like we can cook?" giving his son an incredible look.

"I can, if you guys are willing to take me to grocery store, I can pick up the ingredients?" Harry saw the looks on his family's face at the prospect of having a home cooked meal.

"Where did you learn to cook from?" Sam asked.

"I use to have to cook for the Dursey's," Harry said with shrug.

The three older Winchesters exchanged glances.

"In that case we can deal without, my son is not going to slave over a hot stove for anyone," Sam and John nodded in agreement.

"I like cooking," Harry said, "besides, I'm getting tired of restarant and fast food, I don't mind it when we're on the road, but when we're home I'd rather make something."

Walking out of the restarant heading towards the Impala, Dean spotted something on his car.

"What the hell is that?" Dean staired at what appeared to be a large bird perched on his beloved car.

"Looks like some kind of owl," Sam inquired.

At the mention of an owl Harry rushed forward, "Hedwig," he cried putting out his arm for the bird to perch on instead of his father's car. Sam and Dean staired at each other in bewilderment.

"Where did that bird come from?" Dean asked checking to make sure she hadn't scratched the paint.

"I let her out before I left England and told her to follow when she could," saying absent mindedly petting the white owl.

"Harry, your telling us that that owl flew all all the way from England, that impossable," Sam stairing at his nephew petting Hedwig.

Harry suddenly realized what he had reveiled, sighing and looking towards his grandfather for help, John walked forward placing a hand on his grandson's shoulder.

"I think your going to have to come clean, Hair-ball."

Back at the bunker the Winchesters discussed what they had just found out. Harry sat with his head down stairing at the table.

"So my son's a wizard, and what the bird's your familiar?" Dean asked trying to wrap his head around what he was just told.

"No, she's my pet and my friend," Harry explained not looking up.

"Dean, he's not the same as the witches we hunt, his magic dosen't come from demons, it' natural, like Missouri's psychic abilities," John explained.

"Harry, why didn't you tell us this before?" Sam asked.

"I thought that if I told you, you wouldn't want me," he quietly told his family.

John looked over at his oldest son and saw the distraught look on his face, realizing what his Aunt and Uncle had done to him.

"Harry, is that why the Dursey's abused you?" Sam asked coming around the table and crouching down to put a hand on his nephew's shoulder, Harry nodded his head slowly.

Dean ran a hand through his hair turning around, pacing back and forth angrly, thinking about what those bastards had done to his son.

Harry looked towards his father frightened, "are you angry with me?" he asked.

Dean stopped pacing, sighing he sat down next to Harry, "I'm not mad at you, Harry, I'm mad because the Dursey's made you so affraid, that you would be rejected by your own father for being something special." Sighing again Dean ran a hand through his son's hair, "I'm not going to pretend that I understand this, because I don't, but your my son and I wouldn't reject for any reason, o.k.?"

Harry nodded, "I guess since that's out in the open, maybe I should tell you how my mum and step-dad died and about the prophecy."

"So what your telling us is that if you go back to that warthog school your expected to lead some army, because some guy is threating ?" Dean asked pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It's my destiny and it's hogwarts, dad."

"I don't care if it's your destiny or not, your not going back," Dean said excitedly.

"Dad, you already said I could go back."

"That was before I knew that some wand waving phyco was after you!" Dean yelled waving his arms in the air.

Harry deflatted sitting back in his chair, looking towards his grandfather for more help, with this arguement.

"Harry, I agree with your dad, it's too dangous for you to go back," Sam said leaning back in his chair.

"Oh, but real safe for me to go hunting?"

"At least you have us there to look after you," Sam argued.

"Oh, great job looking after me in the swamp," Harry said angrily folding his arms.

Sam looked at his nephew frustrated, Dean became angry at his son's disrespect.

"You apologize to your Uncle right now!" Dean yelled waving his finger at Harry, making him sink back in his seat.

"Dean, that's enough," John said getting up.

"No dad, did you hear the way he talked to Sam?" he said looking over at the oldest Winchester.

"I heard and yes, he does owe his Uncle an apology, but you need to understand that your son is not an expensive piece of china to be wrapped up and protected from the outside world." John sighed, "I'm not saying that I like the idea of him going anywhere near that psyco, Voltamore, but maybe if we can prepare him, train him in everything we know between that and learning magic at that school he can defend himself without us there to hold hand."

Dean cast his eyes down in thought, considering his father's words. Sighing he looked up again at his son, "what do you think, Harry, will you let us train you?"

"Yes, if it means I can go back to school and I'm sorry Uncle Sam, it wasn't your fault what happened to me at the swamp, it wasn't anyone's fault, it just happened."

"It's o.k. shrimp, no harm done," Sam said smiling at him.

"So, what kind of training do you have planned for me?" Harry asked looking around.

"Defensive mostly, running, small arms, hand to hand, we'll each take turns training you and you have to keep up with your training even at school, deal?" Dean asked extending his hand, Harry stood up and shook it. Dean yanked Harry towards him in a hug running his hand through his thick black hair, sighing, he hoped he was doing the right thing.