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The Tainted Blood of the Father	By : StarLightMassacre Category: Supernatural > Crossovers Views: 7278 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter or Supernatural; all rights go to J. K. Rowling and Eric Kripke respectively. I make no money for this piece of fictional writing and never will.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
A/N: I’ve been made aware of some confusion over the timeline and the ages of the characters, so I’d like to take a moment to clarify that here first. This fic takes place in June of 2006. Harry was born in 1991 and he is 14, he will be 15 on July 31^st.
I have not changed any of the timelines. They’re the same. Dean was born in January 1979 – He’s 27. Sam was born in May 1983 – he’s 23. Dudley was still born in June 1980, as in canon, he is 25. The age difference comes from James and Lily being unable to conceive a baby naturally in 1979, so Harry couldn’t possibly have been born in 1980, like in canon. They searched for years for a way to have a baby and eventually found the Winchesters in 1981, who donated to them, but they wanted to make sure that they’d covered all avenues first, so they held off for another several years while working with Healers to try and conceive naturally, they were unsuccessful and in 1990, they went through the fertilisation and implantation of the donor samples into Lily and finally they had Harry in July 1991. That is where the age difference comes from, all the timelines are the same, but for convenience, I have kept the magical timeline in line with Harry himself as I didn’t want to waste the time inventing new friends and school mates for him. So Harry is still in school with Ron and Hermione and Draco etc, it’s just Sirius, Remus, Snape etc are older than in canon.
Voldemort’s first war lasted longer than in canon because Harry and Neville were born in 1991, so the prophecy came around in 1990, not 1979. All of Harry’s Hogwarts years were exactly the same as in canon, except Harry kept a few items he wasn’t supposed to. At the start of this fic, Harry had just seen Voldemort’s rebirth in the graveyard and Cedric Diggory’s murder after the events of the Tri-wizard tournament. Does this make more sense now, lovelies? If not, send me a message and I’ll try and explain in more detail.
Chapter Warning: There might be some triggers in this chapter for those readers of a sensitive nature. Please proceed with caution, lovelies.
Last Time
John hung up and Dean shut off his phone and sighed. “Finish packing up, Sammy. We’re meeting Dad at Bobby’s.”
“Does he know who it might be?”
“No, but he’s thinking it’s a demon trying to draw us out.”
Sam nodded as he packed up his stuff and shut down his laptop. Dean sighed again and did the same, he’d really had enough of demons.
Chapter Two – Introduction.
Harry was so disappointed the next day as he’d gotten a taxi to the address that the goblins had given to him only to find out that the Winchesters had moved out the very same night that Mary had died over two decades ago.
The house had apparently been burnt down to the ground and John had taken his two sons and left. That had seriously surprised him, but according to the lovely lady he’d met, Jenny, he had two older brothers, Dean and Sam. Harry reasoned it out in his head that Sam must have been born after his parents had met with John and Mary to get the samples from them, so his parents hadn’t known about him, as there was no way they wouldn’t have mentioned him in the diary otherwise.
The woman had no idea where the brothers, or their Father, would be, but she offered to give him Dean’s number after she noticed how confused he was after hearing Sam’s name. Harry had agreed just to make sure that it matched up with the one that John had left in his voicemail, it did.
Harry was back to square one and he seriously contemplated calling Dean, but he wasn’t sure if John had ever told his son about being a donor, it was all going to be very awkward. He decided to do some more digging first, maybe there was a forwarding address for mail that would give him a clue as to where John had gone to. If all else failed, then he would call Dean, but until then he was going to do everything he possibly could first. Calling Dean would be a last resort.
He was now back in his hotel room and he was sat at the desk with his new laptop as he tried to find something, anything at all, but it didn’t help that this was the first time that he’d really used a laptop before. He didn’t really know what he was doing or how to go about implementing the ideas that he did have to look for John and his brothers.
He gave up and decided that he’d best get something to eat, he was frustrated with himself to realise that he hadn’t eaten at all in at least two days having declined his meal on the aeroplane. He’d just been so distracted with finding out that he might have living family members that it had taken over everything else. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to going hungry at any rate. He’d had a lot of practice with the Dursley’s.
He ordered room service for himself and went back to reading more of his books, using his dragonhide parchment notebook to copy the information he found down in his own hand so that he could try and retain the information that he was learning, he was enjoying this new hobby of his, one that he’d started on the twelve hour plane journey yesterday. He was surprised to realise that Unicorns only lived in Europe and that Dementors were exclusive to Azkaban fortress and were rarely allowed off of the prison island. It was all so fascinating.
He ate the hearty dinner that he’d ordered for himself and then lay on his bed just reading, at least until his laptop beeped and he checked it to see that the search he’d set up had left him with very few leads that he could actually follow. He was so frustrated and disappointed. To come all this way and to have a real family dangled in front of him, so close that he could almost taste it, then to hit so many brick walls on his first day in America was truly heart breaking. He’d really hoped that the address would have led him straight to his family. He’d been awake since the early hours mentally preparing for the meeting, trying to work out what he was going to say to them, how he could explain all that had happened that had led him to their doorstep. He’d been thinking and stressing about it so much that it was a complete let down that the meeting hadn’t happened at all. He hadn’t expected any of this running around. It was going to be difficult enough to broach this subject with John and Dean, and now Sam too he supposed, without hunting them down first.
He checked into a few of the results for John Eric Winchester and only one potential lead popped up that actually seemed legitimate. Harvelle’s Roadhouse in Nebraska, a John Eric Winchester had gotten into a fight with another man, the police had been called and had reported the incident, but no charges had been brought about and both men had walked free the next morning after sobering up a little. Harry checked an online map and was happy to realise that Kansas was the state just below Nebraska and he grinned. It wouldn’t be too hard to get there and it was the natural road to follow, he could always come back to Lawrence if Nebraska was a bust and he could start his search again. But hopefully this John Winchester was the same one that he was looking for and he hoped that his Father was in the Nebraska area around the Roadhouse.
With a plan in mind, he found a bus firm online and he ordered a ticket, but his bus wouldn’t leave until tomorrow, he could spend one more night in his wonderful hotel room until then. He was still waiting on Sirius’ letter and his Godfather had better have had a good excuse for not telling him about his true parentage or even just about his real full name. Harry couldn’t see how Sirius had a good excuse, as he didn’t think that there was one, but he would give Sirius the chance to explain his reasoning first.
He lounged on the bed, reading his books and absorbing the information he was reading while jotting down the information to help him memorise it all. He hoped that Harvelle’s Roadhouse didn’t turn out to be another bust, because it seemed to be a trucker’s stop in the middle of absolutely nowhere, he wouldn’t be able to get to the actual Roadhouse easily and he wouldn’t be able to leave it easily either. He just wanted to stop all of this running around, it was going to be hard enough to get over the awkwardness of intruding on their lives without all of this aggravation on top of it. If they wanted nothing to do with him then it would be much easier for everyone involved if he was in a place where he could make a quick and easy getaway. He couldn’t do that at this Roadhouse as it was in the middle of nowhere.
He stopped for the night on a chapter dedicated to ghosts, which as he’d come to expect, were much more violent and murderous in America than in Europe, before going to sleep. He hoped that tomorrow would yield him more results than today had. If Harvelle’s Roadhouse came to nothing then he was completely out of leads and out of ideas. He’d have to call Dean if the Roadhouse was another bust and just hope that his real live blood brother actually believed him and didn’t think that he was just some stupid kid making a prank call.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X
John Winchester was overall glad when he caught sight of the gleaming Impala in front of Bobby’s house. His boys acted as a good buffer to him and Bobby as the two of them clashed heads a hell of a lot when they were left to it. He had a vivid memory of a shotgun being aimed at his head, Bobby half a second from pulling the trigger.
He’d driven a straight twenty-eight hours, all through the night and all day to get here just as it was getting into late afternoon. He’d hit two construction zones and a traffic crash on the I-15 north bound. He was not in the best of tempers because of that, coupled with lack of sleep, a grumbling belly as he’d only stopped once for gas and the mystery of this young kid asking for him at the old Lawrence house.
He parked his truck and knocked tersely on Bobby’s door, tensing on automatic as the shotgun was aimed at his head before a shot glass of holy water was handed over. He knocked it back with the ease of having done so half a million times before and after proving that he wasn’t possessed, he headed inside with a cursory greeting to Bobby.
He smiled at his two boys, he was still taller than Dean, but he didn’t know what had happened to his chubby little Sammy. He was a towering hulk now and as he dragged them both into a rough hug, it was awkward to have Sam lean down so much for a hug, but he managed.
“It’s good to see you boys.” He told them sincerely, if a bit gruffly.
“So what’s the deal with this Harry kid?” Bobby asked, getting them right down to business.
“I honestly don’t know.” John sighed wearily. “On my way here, I’ve been inquiring into all avenues, but without seeing him, I don’t know where he’s come from or why he’s looking for me.”
“I called Jenny again while we were waiting for you, she said he had black hair and green eyes.” Sam told him.
“Yeah, she said he looked a lot like Sammy.” Dean added with a look and John sighed, thinking about what he was doing eleven, twelve, thirteen years ago. He couldn’t remember being with anyone, or at least no one stood out that he’d had unprotected sex with.
“Nothing comes to mind.” He told them as he scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Was it you, Dean?” Bobby asked seriously. “Kid was what, eleven, twelve years old? You’d have been around fifteen at the time.”
Dean looked horrified at the very thought. “No!” He denied furiously.
“You sure?” John asked him. “You were active at around thirteen, fourteen.”
“The hell sort of question is that? Of course I’m sure!” Dean replied shifting his shoulders uncomfortably.
“So, is this kid still in Lawrence?” Bobby asked.
“Jenny didn’t ask him where he was staying or where he’d come from, only that he was looking for John Winchester. She said he recognised Dean, but was surprised when she mentioned me.” Sam said.
“That’s unusual too. The demons all know about the three of you, no way would one know about John and Dean and not you, Sam.” Bobby said thoughtfully.
“Everything about this is strange!” Dean said throwing his hands up. “Why us? Why is a twelve year old looking for us, of all the people he could be searching for?”
“Is there anything else it could be apart from a demon, Bobby?” John asked. “Something that takes the form of a kid or prefers kids as a host?”
Bobby rubbed at his forehead near the edge of his ball cap.
“Hell if I know.” He replied. “Acheri are low level demons that take the form of a kid, but they’re more likely to be little girls. Standard demons will take kids as a host, but they prefer not to. A kid walking around on their own is more conspicuous, but if it suits their purpose, they’ll possess a kid easily.”
“The same for shape shifters, right?” Dean asked. “They’d be able to take on the form of a child.”
“Yeah, but again, a kid is too easily noticed. There’d be no way to know what he is unless we tested him.”
“It might just be a kid.” Sam added. “He doesn’t have to be something demonic.”
Dean just gave him a look. “Of course it does! When has anyone ever come looking for us to just chat, Sam?”
One of Bobby’s phones rang and he went to answer it, leaving John to watch as Dean rambled and paced as Sam just stood there and watched his brother.
“You’re too paranoid.” Sam told Dean after Dean mumbled something about ghost stalkers.
“I have a right to be!” Dean snapped back. “It’s kept me alive all these years. I have gut instincts, Sammy and right now they’re saying that something just ain’t right about any of this!”
“We may have a bigger problem.” Bobby told them when he came back into the room several minutes later. “That was Ellen Harvelle. A twelve year old kid has just turned up at her Roadhouse asking for John Winchester.”
“That settles it, it has to be a demon!” Dean said furiously. “How did he know about Ellen’s? To go straight from Lawrence to the Roadhouse, this thing is hunting you, Dad. It might even come here after Ellen’s!”
“We’re not going to let it.” John said seriously. “If it wants to meet us so badly, I say we go to it and corner it in at the Roadhouse. We’re going to Ellen’s, now.”
Dean nodded decisively and he headed right out to the Impala, Sam hesitated for a moment before following.
“Does Ellen think it’s a demon?” John asked Bobby.
Bobby removed his ball cap and swiped at his forehead before replacing it back on his head.
“She hasn’t had a chance to check, the boy refused a drink, apparently he had a bottle of water with him, but she called as soon as he arrived and she said he looked ‘elated’ when she told him that she could possibly get into contact with you.”
John nodded. “Call me if Ellen updates you on him and tell her to stall it. Tell her to keep that thing there until we get there.”
“I will, you be careful now, Winchester and you look after those boys.”
John nodded again and left Bobby’s to climb back in his truck, it was a six hour drive to Harvelle’s Roadhouse. He really needed some sleep, but this couldn’t wait. He needed to find out what this thing was and why it wanted him, why it was looking for him, of all people.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X
Harry was exhausted already. He’d gotten up at the crack of dawn, gotten a taxi back to Kansas City and caught his bus to Columbus, Nebraska before catching another bus to North Platte. The first bus journey had taken over five hours, the second (after two hours of standing around, waiting endlessly for the bus that he needed to arrive) had taken four hours.
He’d gotten a small room for the night in North Platte. He was just so tired after spending eleven hours trying to get this far that he just couldn’t face however long it would take him now to get up highway eighty-three to Harvelle’s Roadhouse.
He pulled his newest book out and cracked it open. He’d gotten some serious reading and note taking done on the buses and as soon as he’d gotten to his hotel and got access to Wi-Fi, he’d even started fact checking what the Muggle lore said about them on his laptop. He was getting better at using it and he was quite proud of himself. He’d never used much technology before because the Dursleys had never allowed him near any of theirs, so that he was picking it up so quickly was something that he could be proud of.
He still couldn’t link the benign and friendly ghosts who liked talking about themselves and how they’d died to the bloodthirsty, malevolent ghosts that killed people here in America, but Harry wondered if it was the difference between magical ghosts and Muggle ones, mixed in with the wild magic of America itself. He wanted to find out, someone somewhere must have tested that theory at one point.
He’d learnt about several creatures which were native only to America and some that were over here but had origins in other countries, like Wendigos and Shtrigas, which had been the Dementor like creatures that fed mainly off of children that he’d read about before.
He really loved creatures, but the things in America were seriously bad. They were all insane or homicidal or needed to feed off of other people in order to keep existing. He wondered if the American Ministry of Magic sorted them out, if there actually was an American Ministry of Magic, but he couldn’t see anyone just leaving these things to wander around killing people and children. It wasn’t right.
He got himself into his scratchy bed, it certainly wasn’t as nice as the hotel in Lawrence, but it was still much better than the bed he had at the Dursleys and infinitely better than the cupboard under the stairs.
He woke up at mid-morning again the next day after his late night and he groaned as he realised that he hadn’t properly eaten anything yesterday either. He’d had breakfast before he’d left the hotel, but since then, it had mostly been snacks and bottled water on both of the buses he’d caught.
He climbed out of bed and showered, trying to ignore the painful bruises all over his body and the very painful wound in his shoulder, he patted dry the odd scabs he had, not wanting to remove them lest he start bleeding again. All he needed was for blood to start showing through his clothes.
He’d figured out that the only way he could get to Harvelle’s Roadhouse was to hitch a ride with someone going through that way unless he wanted to start walking and get there some when next week. Both of those options were risky, so he’d moved his wand to the waistband of his too big, too baggy jeans, just in case, but really what were the chances of him picking up a serial killer or something? People hitch hiked all the time and nothing happened to them, what were the chances of something happening to him? Not everyone here was going to be out to hurt him, there were lovely, kind people here too, he was sure.
So he grabbed all his stuff and after choking down some breakfast in a nearby diner, he went off to see if someone would give him a ride up the eighty-three to Harvelle’s Roadhouse. He soon realised though that he was too shy to actually stop any of the hard looking, tattooed men in the nearby petrol station, let alone ask them for a lift and before he knew it, several hours had passed and he was still in North Platte.
“You alright, boy? I don’t like loiterers near my truck.” One massive man said and Harry realised too late that he’d been standing near the one truck for more than ten minutes. The man must have been watching him from the diner window.
“I…I’m fine.” Harry managed to choke out.
“Yeah? Then get the fuck away from my truck!”
Harry scarpered and he almost ran into another man as he looked over his shoulder to the bad tempered man he was running away from.
“Easy there, are you alright? That jackass didn’t scare you, did he? I can kick his ass for you if you want.”
“No, no that’s okay.” Harry said, feeling out of his depth.
“You a runaway?” The man asked with a hint of something in his voice as he eyed up his ragged clothing and his backpack.
“No. I’m trying to get to Harvelle’s Roadhouse, it’s just up highway eighty-three.”
“I can give you a ride if you want, I’m passing up that way.”
“Really?” Harry asked excitedly.
“Sure, hop in.”
The man indicated a large truck and Harry started going to the wrong side of the truck before remembering that he was in America. The driver chuckled at him and Harry blushed before climbing into the right side of the truck, or rather the wrong side for him. It had been a long couple of days.
“I take it you aren’t from America, that accent and trying to get in the driver’s side all point to somewhere in Europe.” The man stated as he started the truck and pulled away from the diner slash petrol station, finally getting Harry on track to the Roadhouse just north of North Platte.
Harry nodded. “London.” He said as he looked at his hands.
“Hmm, British, eh? What are you doing so far from home?”
Harry didn’t really know what to say as the man hammered home that he didn’t really know what the hell he was doing here in America. It was all a gamble based on finding John Winchester and an even bigger gamble that the man wanted anything to do with him. Though he and his Wife had signed that agreement with his parents, but seriously, that had been almost twenty-four years ago, longer than he’d actually been alive even, and John’s Wife Mary had died since then. What if John didn’t even remember donating or knew nothing about him being born? It had been two and a half decades since then and a lot could happen in that time. It all seemed so pointless and foolish now that he thought about it.
“Alright, don’t answer. You can have your secrets, but why do you want to go to some rundown Roadhouse in the middle of Nebraska?”
“I want answers.” Harry said softly.
The man nodded as if this was acceptable before he took his eyes from the road for a moment to look at him. “I’m Paul.”
“Harry.” He said automatically before wondering, too late, if maybe he should have used a fake name.
“How old are you, Harry? About eleven, twelve?”
“Fourteen.” He answered, a little aggrieved at being thought of as so young.
The man next to him definitely looked displeased and even irritated at that as he shifted agitatedly at his answer. Harry couldn’t help but wonder why and he shifted a little further over towards the door of the truck, holding his backpack on his lap tightly. His injured shoulder throbbed with the movement. Was the man planning to kill him and was put out because he was older than he looked and might know how to defend himself better than a younger kid?
He swallowed and watched the road obsessively as the time passed to make sure that Paul was going in the right direction. He didn’t like this, perhaps he should have taken a taxi after all, but then all of the cab firms that he’d called had declined to take him, despite the fact that he had the money. Perhaps if he’d offered them double or the money upfront? But it was too late now, he just had to trust that Paul would take him to the Roadhouse.
He relaxed a little when he saw a wooden sign and realised they were about a mile away from the Roadhouse, at least until Paul pulled into a copse of trees and stopped the truck.
“Is this as far as you’re taking me?” Harry asked, trying to hide how scared and nervous he was.
“You are so sweet and naïve it’s unbearable.” Paul whispered. “I’ve been hard since I got you in my truck.”
Harry frowned. “Hard?” He asked confusedly.
Paul grinned so widely that Harry huddled against the truck door that wouldn’t open.
“Fourteen and still so innocent. It makes my blood pulse. It almost makes up for the fact that you’re already a teenager.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“I know you don’t.” Paul said as he slid closer to him.
“Please, just let me go to the Roadhouse.”
Paul, if that was his real name, ignored him and just stared at him with his mouth open. He looked like Ripper, Marge’s favourite bull dog, in the summer when it was too hot and he was overheating.
“Your eyes are very beautiful. So unique. I’ve never seen any eyes like yours before and I want you.”
Harry bit his lip. He didn’t really understand what was going on, but he didn’t like it, at all.
“Please.”
“Stop talking now.” Paul said sternly and leapt at him suddenly, Harry tried to fight him off but Paul got a roll of duct tape out of the glove compartment and tore a strip off, slapping it over his mouth as he pinned his hips down with one of his huge legs and gripped both of his wrists in one hand with a tight, bruising grip.
Harry panicked then as Paul pawed at his jeans. He wriggled and kicked out as the button was broken off of his old, torn jeans that were Dudley’s about sixteen years ago. Thankfully the teeth of the fly caught as Paul tore at it and it jammed as Paul cursed and ripped at his jeans furiously.
Harry kicked out and got a hand free and into his waistband and he clutched at his wand like a lifeline, he fired off a stunner in pure desperation, sending a suddenly unconscious Paul crashing back into the other side of the cab, opposite the door that Harry was previously squashed against.
He was panicking as he turned the key still in the ignition and he all but ripped open the truck door when the lock clicked, he grabbed his bag, jumped out and he ran. He looked back over his shoulder, holding onto his oversized jeans so they didn’t fall off of him, making sure that Paul wasn’t following him. He didn’t have a hand free to tear off the tape.
He didn’t know how long a stunner would last when he hadn’t said the incantation, he needed to get as far away as possible before the stunner wore off and Paul came after him, though he was just infinitely grateful that it had actually worked in the first place. If it had failed he probably would have jammed Paul in the eye with his wand instead and he didn’t know if that would have distracted him enough for him to turn the key and escape the truck. Knowing his luck it would have enraged Paul more and Harry would have ended up being beaten to a pulp and dumped in a ditch somewhere.
He heard an engine rev behind him and he felt tears threaten to fall as his heart lurched with panic before he saw a massive wooden building loom out of the cover of the trees that had been blocking it from his sight. A building that he knew to be the Roadhouse. He stopped for a moment to rip the tape off of his mouth, he felt like it had taken half the skin off of his lips with it and his face smarted, but he didn’t want to stay outside for too long as he pushed open the door to the Roadhouse and hurried inside, still holding onto his broken jeans.
He went up to the central counter which was a wooden square in the middle of the massive, barn like room. There was a pretty, but older woman behind it and she seemed concerned to see him.
“Are you alright, sweetie?” She asked.
Harry tried to stop his bottom lip from wobbling as he just nodded.
“Do you need a drink?”
“No, I have a bottle of water, thank you.” Harry said in a rather fragile voice.
“Do you need a place to stay? I’ve got a room out back.”
Harry just nodded his head and dug in his bag and put a bunch of notes onto the counter as he sniffed.
“Sweetie, are you sure you’re alright?”
Harry nodded again.
“Why are you here?”
“I’m…I’m looking for someone.” Harry said as he tried to control himself.
The door opened and he spun around quickly to check who it was, fearing that it might be Paul. It wasn’t and he tried to calm himself down, panting to regulate his breathing and heart rate.
“It’s alright, sweetie, ain’t nobody going to hurt you in here. I’m Ellen.”
“Harry.” He said as he turned back to face the woman, Ellen.
“Who are you looking for, Harry?”
“I…John, John Winchester.”
“Hmm…sure, I might be able to get a hold of him for you.”
“Really?” Harry asked, his entire stance changing as he looked up at Ellen hopefully.
“Sure, now take a seat and I’ll get you something to eat, take this money back too, I don’t want it.”
Harry’s face fell and he pushed the neat wad of money back at Ellen. “Please, I want you to have it for helping me.”
“This is too much for a bare room out back and I might not be able to track down Winchester.”
“I don’t care, that you’re willing to try means everything to me.”
Ellen sighed and nodded before indicating a booth along the wall. The Roadhouse wasn’t very packed, as expected really for the middle of nowhere, but Harry took the large booth table as Ellen had indicated and he opened his bag to pull out his laptop.
He became so absorbed that when a bowl of soup was placed in front of him, he startled a little and he flinched back.
“Alright, honey. I can see that something’s happened, now why don’t you tell me why you have a red rectangle over your mouth that’s caused your lips to bleed and why your jeans are broken.”
Harry stubbornly rolled his lip under and avoided eye contact. Ellen was telling the truth at least, he tasted blood, a lot of it. The duct tape must have ripped off the scab from where Petunia had kicked his chin as well as causing new splits.
Ellen sighed. “Listen kid, I want to help you, but first you need to tell me what happened and get some of this soup down you.”
Harry picked up the spoon and dipped it into the white, creamy soup before putting it into his mouth and swallowing. Just the normal act of eating helped to calm his racing heart and his panicked thoughts.
“Did someone hurt you?” Ellen asked with a touch more gentleness to her voice.
Harry flinched so hard he dropped the spoon and wrapped his arms around himself. He shook his head silently, even though it was a complete lie.
“Well I know that’s not the truth.” Ellen said sternly.
“I…I hitched a ride from North Platte.” Harry said, hunching his shoulders and rolling them forward to feel a measure of protection.
“The driver raped you.”
Harry blinked and frowned. He shook his head, but he didn’t know if what Paul had done to him was rape or not.
“It’s alright, Harry. You don’t have to hide anything from me, I reckon I already know what’s happened. If he comes in here, you let me know right away and he’ll be going straight back out that door or he’ll meet the wrong end of my shotgun.”
That coaxed a small smile from him as he tried to get a hold of himself.
“Now, why are you looking for John Winchester?”
“I need to speak to him, that’s all. I found that his name was linked to your Roadhouse through a police report, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try here.” Harry told her quietly as he went back to his soup. He didn’t really want to eat anything, but the familiar motions calmed him down and started to settle him, so he repeated them.
“He ain’t the friendliest of people, I’ll tell you that.”
Harry bit his already abused, bleeding lip and took a deep breath. He looked at the door to the Roadhouse and wondered if he could call a cab to come and get him. He’d offer them triple up front just to get him back to somewhere that wasn’t the middle of nowhere.
“Then maybe this was a mistake.” He said under his breath. Ellen heard him regardless.
“He won’t dare hurt you. Besides if he tried he’d be meeting the wrong end of my shotgun too. But he’s a blunt, abrasive man. He has been as long as I’ve known him and he won’t change, the stubborn mule.”
Harry swallowed as he thought of Uncle Vernon and his hand went to touch the worst of his bruising at his ribs.
“Just sleep on it, Harry, it’s getting late. It won’t hurt to stay here for one night, then if you still want to leave, I’ll drop you off in North Platte myself.”
“You will? Thank you so much, Mrs Ellen!”
“Stay here, eat your soup, then let me know when you’re tired and I’ll take you to your room. Ignore any patrons that bother you, they’re mostly grumpy old men and harmless drunks. But any of them you don’t like, let me know.”
Harry nodded, much happier and he went back to his laptop as Ellen went back behind the bar. Harry never noticed her watching him, studying him as he unconsciously curled an arm around the bowl of lightly salted, holy water laced soup that he was eating with a silver spoon.
Ellen noticed everything however, she noticed the exhausted and gaunt, underfed appearance, the too thin, bony hands, the red rectangle over his mouth and cheeks that had to have been from duct tape, the broken fly on the too large jeans, the pain and hurt hidden behind expressive eyes and as Harry bent to pull a book out of his backpack, she noticed the blackish-purple bruising on his hip and back when his shirt rode up.
She continued to watch Harry all afternoon and into the evening until he packed all his things up with a yawn and she knew what was coming before Harry stood up and came to her to ask shyly and politely where he’d be staying. He was far too shy and far too polite for her liking. It wasn’t natural.
Harry thanked Ellen profusely for the small, bare room and once she was gone, he shifted a chair to press up against the door, hoping that at least if it didn’t keep anyone, or anything, from entering, then it would at least give him enough time to wake up and react. He kept his wand within reach, under his pillow.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X
John walked into Harvelle’s Roadhouse a little apprehensively with Sam and Dean and he wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but there was no twelve year old kid sitting at any of the tables, a cursory sweep told him that much.
“You won’t find him, Winchester. It’s late, he’s sleeping.” Ellen told him.
“Did you test him?” He asked quietly as he tried not to meet Ellen’s eyes. Shame filled him from what he’d done in the past, of how he’d gotten Ellen’s husband killed on a hunt. It was a miracle she was even still speaking to him, but she was and he was grateful for that at least. He couldn’t let himself forget that he’d killed her Husband, Bill, without anyone else never letting him forget too.
“You think I’m a rookie?” Ellen demanded. “My daughter sleeps in this Roadhouse, you think I’d let anyone stay here who I hadn’t tested personally?”
“Bobby said he refused a drink.”
“He did, when he first came in. I put salt and holy water in a bowl of soup I gave him and I watched him eat it with a silver spoon. No reaction, not even a flinch or a glimpse of recognition. He’s just a little boy who happens to be looking for you, Winchester.”
“Why is he looking for me?”
“I don’t know. He’s very quiet, overly polite and almost painfully shy. I couldn’t get much out of him ‘cept his name was Harry and he was looking for you. He gave me three hundred dollars just because I said I could maybe get hold of you.”
“Seriously?” Dean asked.
Ellen nodded. “He was so happy when I said I could find you, John.”
“He went to the old house in Lawrence.” John sighed as he sat at the bar stool.
Ellen gave him and the two boys a drink, with the usual splash of holy water, just to be sure.
“The woman who lives there said he knew about me, but not about Sammy.” Dean told her as he took a gulp of the whiskey.
“Now that’s strange. Why would he know about you and your Daddy, but not Sam? He’s a little kid and there’s only four years between you and Sam. Who would have known you back then and would have met Dean and not Sam? Was it when your boy went off to school?”
“I don’t know, I don’t remember any kid called Harry.” John growled.
“Would it help if I told you that he looks like you and your boys?” Ellen said. “It’s almost frightening to see. His hair is a mix of yours, John, and Sam’s, but those eyes almost perfectly match Dean’s, just a bit brighter and a bit darker.”
“I have my Mother’s eyes.” Dean said with a hard edge. “How can he have my eyes, with Dad and Sammy’s hair?”
“You been playing around?” Ellen asked him bluntly.
“No! Why does everyone keep asking me that? I never fathered any child, especially not at fifteen!”
“Alright, let me find you some rooms, you can see Harry for yourselves tomorrow. But I’m telling you, that boy looks like a Winchester and I won’t have any of you hurting him, you hear? He’s been through enough.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked concernedly.
“He’s a kid, how did you think he got here from Lawrence?” Ellen asked. “He took cabs, two buses and then he hitched a ride to here. He came in looking terrified, close to tears, his jeans were broken and he had a red mark over his mouth, looked like it was from duct tape. His lips were bleeding. I think the driver he hitched a ride with was a sicko.”
“Is he alright?” Sam asked horrified. “He’s just a kid!”
“He wouldn’t say. He just shook his head and tried to deny it, but I saw right through him, he got that look on his face that kids’ get when they’re trying hard not to cry.”
Ellen led them, silent, stunned almost in horrified thoughts, to two spare rooms in the back where she bid them goodnight. The implications that this boy was related to them somehow, that he might have been attacked and raped that very day. It played heavily on their minds and kept them from sleep.
John in particular found it incredibly hard to fall asleep and he stayed awake for most of the night in the room that Ellen had let him use, thinking hard about where a twelve year old boy had come from who looked like a Winchester with Mary’s eyes. He didn’t know what to think about the possibility of this boy travelling through so many states apparently alone, nor about him possibly being raped by a truck driver who had agreed to bring him to the Roadhouse.
His mind kept running over all sorts of possibilities and he just wanted the morning to come so that he could see this Harry kid for himself. He could hear Dean and Sam arguing in the room next to his as Dean once again protested his innocence of fathering a child at just fifteen and accused Sam of being the father, to which Sam just laughed and pointed out he would have been just eleven when the kid had been born.
He wanted to believe Dean when he said this boy wasn’t his, but his boy had been given very few freedoms growing up, so when he found a girl, he was often reckless. He didn’t know how to feel if this Harry turned out to be Dean’s son. He was a bad Father, he knew that, so it was obvious that he’d be a bad grandfather too. Also he doubted that Dean would take well to full time Fatherhood, or even to part-time Fatherhood. He wondered where Harry’s Mother was and why she was letting him wander all over America on his own.
John sighed and tried to get to sleep, at least Dean and Sam had stopped their arguing after having a good laugh about the ridiculousness of Sammy fathering a child at eleven.
He didn’t sleep for long despite how tired he actually was. It felt like he’d only just fallen asleep before he was up again at just gone dawn, anxious to see this Harry for himself.
He dressed himself and then went next door to wake up Dean and Sammy, he wanted to talk to Ellen some more before he met with Harry and he hurried his sons up before leading them out into the main bar area of the Roadhouse.
“He’s not talking much this morning.” Ellen said as soon as he arrived at the bar counter.
“He’s awake?”
“Yeah, he got up with the birds. He’s sat at the booth just behind you. The adorable little boy with the jet black, messy curls who’s swinging his legs under the chair. He’s being very quiet and I don’t think he slept at all.”
John turned and caught sight of the tiny boy at the table. His feet didn’t touch the floor and he was indeed swinging them, his hair was a mass of long, messy curls and tufts that went in every which way and his table was spread out with several books, a brand new laptop and the little boy was scribbling in a notebook.
“Any idea what he’s doing?”
“No clue. I gave him a drink and he went right back to the table he was at yesterday and got all of that out. I think he might be doing homework or something.”
“How do we go about this then?” Dean asked awkwardly.
“Harry, sweetie. Bring that glass over here.” Ellen called out.
John swallowed hard as the head of messy curls swung around as his name was called and he caught sight of the bright green eyes and the torn lips from what Ellen had said was duct tape. They were just starting to scab over and they looked painful and sore. One half of his face was faintly bruised like he’d been smacked across the face incredibly hard. His hand clenched tight into a fist, that bruise was too old to have been from yesterday.
The little boy nodded his head and grabbed the empty glass and came over. He barely reached John’s elbow as he put the glass on the counter for Ellen with a soft smile.
“Let me refresh this for you, sweetie. In the meantime, why don’t you say hi to Sam?”
Sam stepped forward immediately and John wondered why the hell Ellen had Sam, the tallest of them, step forward when Harry immediately took three steps back away from him, his eyes widening in panicked fear. Though thinking more critically about it, it was likely because Harry would recognise the names John and Dean and because Sam was the more accepting and tactful out of the three of them. He was less gruff and more patient.
“Hi, Harry. I’m Sam. How are you?”
“Fine.” Came the whispered, strangled reply.
“Ellen says that you’re looking for John Winchester.”
Harry looked interested then and he nodded. “Can you help me?”
“Yeah, I can.”
“Please, I just want to speak to him. That’s all.” Harry said and John could only see a strange, eager happiness on his face with no lie.
This up close it was easy to see exactly how that woman, Jenny, and Ellen had both believed that Harry was a Winchester. He looked like himself and his Mary. He looked like his boys. There were mistakes, of course. This boy was too small, too thin, too shy and timid. He kept second guessing himself, he was naïve and unaware of danger if he’d hitch hiked a ride with someone who had raped him.
If he ever found the driver who had hurt this little boy, he’d beat the shit out of him and throw the bastard into a ditch to die slowly with the rats.
“What do you want to speak to him about?” He asked.
Recognition flared in those green eyes and he burst out ‘It’s you!’ before he became very shy and huddled himself up, ducking his head shyly as he found sudden interest in his battered, broken trainers. John felt sick as he realised that Harry was acting as though he was expecting a physical reprimand. This went deeper than just one sicko driver, he was almost sure of it.
“How do you know that?” Sam asked softly.
Harry peeked up at all three of them before he slipped a hand into his pocket and the three of them tensed until he pulled out a brand new cell. He pushed a few buttons and a dial tone came out and then John heard his own voice from his voicemail.
“Why didn’t you call Dean?” John found himself asking.
“You said in the message to call him only if it was an emergency. I just wanted to meet you, it wasn’t an emergency. Besides, I didn’t really know what to say and I didn’t know if I would have been taken seriously or not. It could have been taken as a prank call.”
“Okay, you got me here now, why did you want to meet me?”
Harry became so shy that John could almost see him wishing for the floor to open up beneath him. He sighed. He needed to try another tactic here, he was obviously asking the wrong questions, but he just wanted to know where Harry had come from, why he was here, how he looked like himself and his beloved Mary. He just wanted the boy to answer him straight so that he could get to the bottom of this mystery.
“Where are your parents?” He asked. “Why are you here alone? Why have you travelled all this way, on your own, just to see me?”
“I…I just wanted to meet you.” Harry said quietly.
“Your accent suggests Britain, though it seems to be a mix of something else.”
“I go to a boarding school in Scotland for ten months a year, it messes with my accent.” Harry told him.
“So where are you from, where do you live?” John asked.
Harry bit his already abused lip and avoided his gaze.
John tugged at his hair and tried to think of what he was missing here, as he tried to think of a question that would help him figure this out, one that Harry was actually comfortable with answering. Which gave him an idea.
“What is your full name?” He asked, hoping that that would give him a clue.
“Harry John James Potter.”
John felt like he’d just been punched in the head, square between the eyes, as his stomach had just dropped through his feet. He shot a hand out quickly to steady himself on the bar top. He turned away from Harry and towards the bar and he took in several deep, steadying breaths. This couldn’t be happening.
“Dad?” Dean questioned, placing a hand on his shoulder awkwardly.
“Your parents are Lily and James Potter.” John stated hoarsely as he turned to look back at those massive, expressive eyes, so much like Lily Potter’s, exactly like his Mary’s. He didn’t need to ask, he already knew. Just hearing the boy’s full name and everything, this entire mystery, fell completely into place.
Harry nodded with a smile that he had finally understood what Harry was too shy to say outright.
“But biologically, you’re mine and Mary’s.” John carried on and Harry nodded again.
“Wait, wait, how does that happen?” Dean asked in shock.
“When you were about two, a couple came to Mary and me and explained that they were looking for people who looked like them to donate eggs and stuff to them because they couldn’t have children of their own. We spent a year talking and working everything out before Mary and I agreed. We would donate our…samples, to James and Lily so that they could have a baby. They’d become good friends to us in that year, we wanted to do this for them, we wanted to give them a baby of their own.”
Harry dashed back to the table he’d spread all of his stuff out on and he dug into a backpack and brought out a very old book. He came back and showed it to them. It was a diary of the entire process, including the list of names of other potential donors, Lily and James meeting them for the first time, and then all the subsequent times, and it explained why Harry had known about Dean and not Sam, because Sam hadn’t been born at that time. John smiled as he read that Lily had thought them to be the perfect couple, the perfect donors for their baby and she had gushed over how adorable Dean had been.
“It was going through this process that made Mary and me want another baby.” John said wistfully. “A little over a year after we’d given the samples, we had Sammy.”
“Why did they wait so long to have you? I was three when they got the samples they needed.” Dean asked. “You should be older than Sammy!”
Harry smiled. “They were still trying to have their own baby, trying to find ways to counter my Mum’s defective eggs or a way to use my Father’s sperm and it took them years before they gave up. They used the donated samples only as a last resort.”
“Where are they now?” John asked furiously. “They loved you so much, they loved you ten years before you were even born, why would they let you travel across America from London alone?!”
“They’re dead.” Harry told him softly.
“That’s why you’re here, looking for me.”
Harry nodded. “I found out this summer that I…that I was a surrogate baby.”
“They never told you?” Sam asked.
“They never had a chance to. I was a baby when they were killed.”
“Please tell me you weren’t six months old.” Dean sighed.
Harry looked at him strangely. “No, I was fifteen months old. My Dad was killed at the bottom of the stairs and my Mum was killed in my nursery.”
“While you were in it?” Sam asked.
Harry nodded. “Yeah. The house was on fire and a brave police officer rushed in to find me because he could hear me crying. Or at least that’s my understanding of it.”
The three of them shared a look and Harry frowned at them.
“What? Why is that somehow significant? It was just some madman who broke it and killed them.” Harry said.
“You were a baby, how do you know?”
Harry bit his lip. He’d always been told about the story of how Voldemort had broken into his house and murdered his parents before failing to kill him, but he’d been a baby, strictly speaking, he had no idea what had happened or how anything had gone down, only what other people had told him about that night.
He shook his head. “I suppose I don’t. It’s just what everyone keeps saying to me. I’ve been taking what everyone else said as the truth, but I was only fifteen months old, I don’t remember anything, so I’m not sure.”
“So who have you been living with and why have they let you come here on your own? You were supposed to come to me and Mary if your parents died, that was the arrangement we made.”
A little pink tongue slipped out and Harry looked down and off to his right.
“I live with my Aunt and Uncle, they know I’m here.”
“Somehow I think that’s a lie.” John told him and Harry winced at being caught out so quickly and easily. “How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Seriously?” Dean asked. “I wasn’t as small as you when I was ten!”
Harry blushed and his head dropped again. A small hand pressed against a thin ribcage and John’s eyes narrowed. He recognised the signs of hidden pain, Dean and Sam had both been stubborn with their injuries too, they still were.
It made him remember about what Harry had been through the day before and he really wanted to find the driver who had harmed Harry, his own son, even if he and Mary had never raised him. It didn’t matter, he was still made from them and without James and Lily, he was free to claim Harry if he wanted to, it seemed like Harry wanted him to as well, he’d come all this way just to meet him after all.
The problem was, he had no idea what to do with a fourteen year old who was apparently a runaway from Britain. He sighed.
“Grab your stuff, I’m not going to leave you anywhere, you’re staying with me.”
Harry grinned then and he rushed to pack all of his books back into the backpack.
“Is this a good idea?” Dean asked him.
“It’s a terrible idea.” John answered gruffly. “But what other choice do I have? He has no clue about anything, he was attacked just yesterday because he hitched a ride with the wrong person. I can’t just abandon him.”
“Yeah, I was thinking that too. What I wouldn’t give to have ten minutes with that paedophile.” Dean grumbled as Harry jogged back to join them, going all shy again.
John touched his shoulder and he had to clench his jaw when Harry flinched violently. He wouldn’t need ten minutes with that sicko, he’d only need five.
He kept his arm around Harry’s back and Harry walked stiffly as if expecting an imminent attack.
“You take care of him, Winchester.” Ellen said as they drew level with where she was collecting empty glasses and bottles. She put her hand into her pocket and handed Harry a slip of paper. “This is my number, Harry. Don’t be a stranger.”
“Thank you, Mrs Ellen.” Harry said softly, accepting the slip of paper.
“Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs Ellen.” Dean said with a shit eating grin. Ellen whacked him as he passed.
John led Harry to his truck and watched as the small boy had to climb the truck like it was a tree to get in. It made him smile.
He made sure that Dean and Sam got into the Impala and he saw them talking intensely, probably about finding out that they had a full blooded baby brother they hadn’t known about. He was going to be torn a new one by them both for not mentioning that he and Mary had donated to another couple to make them a full blooded sibling.
“Where are we going?” Harry asked him with a hint of innocent curiosity as he buckled himself in securely. John couldn’t help noticing that Harry was turned slightly more towards him and he kept a hand on the door handle. He really, really wanted five minutes alone with that truck driver.
“Sioux Falls, in South Dakota.”
“That’s the state above this one, yes?”
“That’s right, Sioux Falls is on the eastern edge of South Dakota.”
“I’ve been trying to learn the states and where they are. Is that where you live?”
“No, Harry. After…after Mary died, I didn’t want to settle anywhere. We’re going to a friend of mine.”
“Okay.” Harry accepted easily and whether he could feel how uncomfortable he was with talking or whether he didn’t like talking either, Harry dug a book out of his backpack and huddled down into his overlarge clothing to read silently.
After an hour he could almost forget that Harry was even in the truck with him as he read in utter silence and wrote in a large journal he had rested on his knees, also silently. He didn’t ask him to slow down, didn’t ask him to stop for bathroom breaks, he drank from a bottle of water he also had in his bag and he didn’t seem to get hungry.
Sam and Dean had been forever complaining about anything they could when he’d taken them from one motel to another and they had always been hungry at Harry’s age, he thought it was a natural part of being a teenager as they grew like weeds, but Harry wasn’t growing and Ellen said that all he’d had was a bowl of soup the afternoon of the day before. He should have been starving.
“You hungry?” He asked a little awkwardly.
“Oh, no. I’m okay, thank you.” Harry answered simply before going back to his book.
Harry was still far too polite for his liking. It made him uncomfortably aware of his own lack of manners and his coarse language. He almost wished that Harry would talk, but he seemed far too involved with his book as he read like a dehydrated man drank down water.
He caught sight of a picture of what looked like a horse as Harry turned the page before looking back at the road.
“You interested in animals?” He asked.
“Definitely. I love learning about all sorts of creatures that live around the world.”
“You want to be some sort of domestic vet?”
Harry chuckled. “No. I don’t think I’d like sorting out domestic animals, I like the bigger, more dangerous ones. Lions, tigers, wolves. Those sorts of animals. I was thinking of maybe going on an African safari when I’m in my twenties, to see them in their natural habitats. That would be brilliant, but first, I need to research as much as I can about all different animals.”
“And finish your education.” John said sternly.
“I took Care of Creatures as an elective at school, technically this is part of my education.” Harry told him.
John wondered what sort of school Harry went to, but then he had no idea what curriculum that Britain kept, let alone a Scottish boarding school, for all he knew Care of Creatures was a perfectly acceptable elective, though it didn’t sound like one.
Harry was engrossed deeply back in his book and John sighed and concentrated on getting them both to Bobby’s. He wondered how Harry would react when he found out about some of the dangerous creatures he, Dean and Sam took care of.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ X
Harry looked at the salvage yard in curiosity as he stuck close to John, his backpack over his good shoulder. John touched his injured shoulder and Harry jumped before he could stop himself and a frisson of pain flared from the wound, spreading out over his bad. He berated himself harshly as he walked up the old, worn, wooden porch steps.
John hammered on the door and Harry shifted slightly behind John as he didn’t know who would be opening the door. The scruffy, bearded man with the white and green, utterly filthy baseball cap on was not really what he was expecting.
“The boys called ahead, this him?”
“Yeah, this is Harry. Harry, this is Bobby.”
“Hello, Mister Bobby.”
“Hell kid, call me Bobby.”
Harry just smiled and nodded. John accepted a shot glass of a clear liquid that Harry thought might have been vodka, but John knocked it back so easily. He baulked when he was offered one too.
“I’m only fourteen, I can’t have vodka.” He insisted, holding his hands up and backing away.
The two men chuckled deeply and Harry looked between them both with a frown.
“It’s just water, Harry. Bobby’s a bit eccentric.” John explained.
“Oh.” Harry took the little glass and stared at it.
“Just knock it back in one.” John encouraged.
Harry ignored him and he had to swallow it down in four big gulps.
“What was that?” A voice said behind him. “You’d be awful at shots.”
Dean jogged up the porch steps grinning and Sam followed him. They knocked back their own shots of water as if this was completely commonplace behaviour and Harry was the only one who found the entire thing totally bizarre. Maybe it was commonplace for the apparently eccentric Bobby as Sam and Dean hadn’t hesitated or said a word about knocking back shots of water as if it was completely normal. He frowned at all four men and wondered what the hell he’d let himself in for.
“Why water?” Harry asked as the first thing that came to mind.
“Water works well and comes from the tap.” Bobby said and Harry nodded easily.
Harry followed John into the living room, or he thought it was the living room as it had a couple of settees and a chair in it and a coffee table, but it was so full of books that Harry twitched. He wished Hermione had been here so that he could show her, her future living room.
“You touch those books and you’ll be banned from this room.” Bobby told him seriously.
Harry nodded hesitantly, but he really wanted to go looking through some of them, especially as he saw one with the word creatures on the spine.
Instead he allowed Sam to steer him to the settee and he sat on it awkwardly, perched on the end of it with his backpack in his lap. He stayed there, perfectly still, holding onto his bag as if it would be snatched from his very hands if he loosened his hold on it or put it down.
“Jeez, Harry. Relax a little.” Dean told him as he noticed the ramrod straight back and the tension running through the shoulders of his baby, baby brother.
Harry bit his lip and tried to relax, but it was difficult. He didn’t know these men, he didn’t really know where he was or how to leave if anything happened. He had to remind himself that he’d wanted this outcome. He’d wanted to find John Winchester, his Father, and his older brothers. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t nervous though and although they’d been decent and even kind to him so far, he wasn’t sure if that wasn’t just the shock of finding him and realising that he was actually fully blood related to them.
Eventually, with the quiet, if a bit rough, conversation and the laughter, it became too much effort to remain so tensed. Harry relaxed each part of his body in turn as he came down from the cliff edge of being ready to flee at any moment as he realised that the four men were trying to put him at ease with their light topic choices of conversation and their easy laughter.
“Why don’t you read some more or get your laptop out?” Sam suggested with a kind smile. “I do it all the time, Bobby has good internet connection.”
“He won’t mind?” Harry asked so quietly he had trouble hearing himself.
“Of course not.” Sam grinned and shook his head for emphasis as he went into his own bag and dragged out his own laptop. He turned it on and Harry watched as Bobby didn’t even blink or take notice of what Sam was doing.
Harry watched Bobby before looking back at Sam, who was happily clicking away at his laptop keys, before looking back at Bobby, who’d noticed that Sam had his laptop out and he didn’t even blink over it.
Harry sat further back on the settee, relaxing fully and getting comfortable as he got his own laptop out, getting Sam to help him with connecting to Bobby’s Wi-Fi. He felt more secure now that he wasn’t sitting so stiffly, his mind taken away from his turbulent thoughts as he was easily distracted with his laptop.
He didn’t care that his feet were a foot off of the floor, or at least he hadn’t until Dean shook his leg by the shin as he walked past. Then he became self-conscious about it and he scowled, moving to sit forward until his feet were on the floor again, even if it meant there was a foot of space between him and the back of the settee.
He was aware of Sam lounging next to him, his long legs were bent, feet to the floor and his lower legs weren’t even touching the settee. Why the hell couldn’t he have been as tall as Sam? Or even as tall as Dean, who fit more comfortably on the settee, but still had both feet firmly on the floor and his back to the cushions.
Harry ignored the two of them, Sam next to him on the settee and Dean on the other settee adjacent to Sam. John and Bobby had gone into the next room, but Harry could still hear them talking as he opened his last research page and started reading.
Eventually he slipped back onto the settee without realising it and he curled his legs up and under him, laptop on his thighs as he scrolled down the page and continued reading.
Someone closed the top of his laptop, careful not to catch his fingers, and Harry startled and scowled up at Dean, who was waving a paper bag at him.
“You need to eat. Ellen said she gave you a bowl of soup over twenty-four hours ago. You gotta be hungry by now.”
Harry took the bag and opened it to find a massive burger and fries. He smiled behind the bag. It was the most food any relative had ever given him in one go before.
“Thank you.” He said softly as he put the laptop down and dug out the burger from the paper bag.
He stared at it for a while, he’d never seen a burger so big before and he wondered how much it had cost to buy. It looked like it had costed a small fortune and he felt like he’d never get his mouth around it. It helped his nervousness that Dean was trying his hardest to stuff his own burger into his mouth whole though.
John and Bobby were back in the room again, John sat next to Dean and Bobby was in the chair and they had their own burgers and fries that they were eating with their hands, not a napkin in sight.
“Oh hell, you aren’t a vegetarian are you?” Dean asked suddenly. “I didn’t even think to ask you.”
“No, no I’m not.” Harry insisted quickly. “I’m not fussy when it comes to food.”
Harry stopped thinking so hard then and he ate the burger happily before he ate the fries. He was the last one to finish, but no one else seemed to care. He stood up, holding the empty bag, a little lost as to where to put it or where to go to get rid of it.
“Pass it here.” Sam said with a smile that Harry couldn’t decipher. He nonetheless did as Sam had asked and handed over the empty paper bag.
He sat back on the settee and pulled his most recent book out and started reading.
“Is that a bisected horse?” Sam asked, his voice filled with horror and disgust as he caught sight of the picture as he walked back past Harry.
Harry looked at the diagram that showed the side view of a unicorn that was cut in half to show its organs and Harry nodded shyly.
“How can you look at that after just eating a burger?”
“It doesn’t bother me.” Harry said. “Blood, guts and gore have never bothered me. My Uncle hammered a nail through his finger once, my Aunt fainted, my cousin ran away and I just stood there watching. It was fascinating to see his reaction and the blood pouring down his arm.”
“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?” Sam asked curiously.
“I was seven.” Harry answered. “I couldn’t reach the phone on the wall.”
He didn’t think it would be right to tell them that he’d found the whole thing hilarious because Vernon had been threatening to hit him in the head with the hammer just moments before. He’d gotten two weeks in the cupboard for distracting Vernon and causing him to put the nail through his finger. After he’d stuffed himself full of food and stashed some fruit in his cupboard that was, because they’d left him on his own at home while they’d all rushed to the hospital.
“Now that, I can believe.” Dean laughed.
“Why are you looking at a picture of a bisected horse?” Sam asked.
“Its research for my Care of Creatures class at school. I need to learn the general anatomy of several creatures so that they can be better treated or operated on.”
“This is what they teach fourteen year olds these days?” Bobby asked as he looked at the book too.
Harry nodded. “You should see some of the other classes I have to take.”
He dug out another book that he had been sure had more information on unicorns. He needed to find out why their colouring changed depending on their maturity. It didn’t look like they had any added organs or anything that would explain the colour change, so Harry reasoned that it was likely hormonal. He needed to get his hands on some unicorn blood, purely for research reasons, to see if the adults had different hormones in their blood compared to the blood of the golden foals or the silver adolescents.
“Is that book written in Latin?” Dean asked him. “Latin?!”
Harry blinked and looked down at the book to realise that it was one of his Latin creature books. “Well, yeah. I go to a boarding school, learning Latin is pretty much a must.”
“You any good at it?” Bobby asked him.
“That depends…how good does good mean?” Harry frowned. “I’ve only been going to the school for four years, since I was eleven.”
Bobby went to one of his shelves and searched high and low for a book before holding it out for him to take. Harry put his own books down and his laptop before taking it.
Harry opened the very old book to the first page and he read it consideringly. Trying his hardest to translate what seemed to be a very ancient form of Latin.
“You understand that?” John asked him after several minutes.
Harry bit his lip and called upon four years of learning Latin to better understand spells to try and decipher the text in this book. “Yeah, just about. It’s a strange form of Latin that isn’t at all what I’m used to in school though…it reminds me more of ancient Greek, which is probably understandable, seeing as the ancient Greeks and the Latin speaking Romans were intermingled. If I had to guess I’d say that this was written in Latin by a Greek because some of these words are actually ancient Greek, not true Latin. But it’s literally a set of instructions on how to make a blessed…well this word, pendere, it’s either pendant or to hang to my understanding, but I think from the general gist of the text it means a hanging pendant to put around your neck. It’s basically a set of instructions on how to make a blessed amulet to ward off evil.”
Harry flipped the page and started reading. He became absorbed and he sat back as he read the book one page at a time, taking his time as he got out one of his spare pads of parchment and he wrote out words he didn’t know and listed guesses from the general context of what he was reading.
“You sure it’s a good idea to let him read that?” Sam asked quietly.
“There’s nothing in that book but how to do blessings for protection amulets and how to make holy water.” Bobby said. “I’m surprised he knows as much as he does, that school must be damn good at teaching Latin is all I can say.”
The four of them looked to Harry as he turned a page, scribbling on his notebook.
“His school sounds awesome.” Dean said with a grin. “If the schools me and Sammy went to taught us how to operate on animals and taught us Latin I might have enjoyed it more.”
“So what are you gonna do with him?” Bobby asked John seriously.
John sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “What can I do with him? He’s mine…mine and Mary’s. He’s one of our boys and I promised James and Lily that I’d take him in if anything ever happened to them. They promised to take in Dean if anything happened to me and Mary in return.”
“Really?” Dean asked.
“Yeah, they loved you…you even called them Uncle and Auntie.” John said with a soft smile of remembered memories. “They’d have loved you too, Sammy. We sent them a letter about you being born, but…but Mary died before I got a reply and I took you both and I left that house, so I never heard from them again.”
“I can’t believe I have a younger brother.” Sam said with a grin as he looked back at Harry, who was utterly absorbed with the book that Bobby had given him. Harry reminded him so much of himself as he sat there devouring the book and making even more notes onto his spare pad. His other notebook, the one for the horses, had been put back into his bag.
“I’ve got two pains in the ass to look after now.” Dean grumbled, but there was no heat behind it as he grinned.
“No offense, but isn’t it past his bedtime or something?” Bobby asked.
John looked at his watch and sighed. It was getting late.
“Harry, let me show you where you’ll be staying.”
Harry didn’t show any reaction, he carried on reading, frowning and biting his already abused, scabbed over lip as he mulled something over.
“Hey, that’ll still be there tomorrow.” He tried, walking closer, but Harry still didn’t react.
John touched his shoulder and Harry reacted as if he’d burst a balloon in his ear, leaping away and gasping in shock.
“Hey, it’s alright. You wanna come see where you’ll be sleeping?”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Harry said breathlessly. “Can I keep reading this, please, Mister Bobby?”
Sam and Dean both started laughing. Harry bit his lip harder and looked at his feet.
“Sure kid, just stop calling me Mister Bobby.”
“Okay.” Harry said quietly as he collected up his stuff and followed John out into the passageway, up the surprisingly silent stairs and to a bedroom with two twin beds.
“I sleep on that bed there, you can have the other one. Dean and Sammy are next door and Bobby’s bedroom is opposite theirs. The bathroom is directly opposite this room.”
Harry nodded and he sat on the furthest bed from the door.
“Thank you for bringing me with you.” He said quietly.
John sighed and sat next to him on the little bed, aware that they needed to have this conversation. He cursed himself for being so bad with words and emotions.
“You’re my son, Harry. You may not have been born to me and Mary, but we cared a hell of a lot about James and Lily and we signed all the papers that would allow us to take you in if needed and I still stand by that choice. If I’d known that Lily and James were gone, then I would have taken you in, in a heartbeat because you’re my son. Though you need to know that I do live a rough life, Harry. We don’t stay in one place for too long, we never have after that night and I drag my boys all over America and I’d hate to do the same to you.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Harry replied in an almost whisper. “I haven’t seen much of America yet.”
“What about your school?”
Harry looked at his dangling feet. “I don’t want to go back. I’m looking into getting my work mailed to me so that I can do it at home. I’d just have to go to an official centre for my exams.”
“Because you want to stay with us?” John asked awkwardly.
Harry nodded. “Family means a lot to me. I haven’t had much family and those I do have…well I just found out that they aren’t even related to me by blood.”
Harry kept his eyes on his hands, but his jaw clenched in anger as he thought of the Dursleys. He’d been their slave, their punching bag, for all those fucking years when he’d had a biological Father and two older brothers who were willing to take him in and actually look after him.
It frustrated him to the point of angry tears that he’d been stuck with them, being beaten and forced to cook and clean and tend the gardens when his own Father was now sat beside him, trying to relax him and make him more comfortable.
John Winchester might live a hard life, he might not stay in any one place for longer than a few weeks, but Harry could guarantee that it would be a million times better than what he’d had with the Dursleys.
“Blood doesn’t have to make family.” John told him as gently as his gruff voice could manage, giving a token try to get the boy to change his mind, but his heart wasn’t really in it. He knew that it probably wasn’t what was best for Harry, in fact it was probably one of the worst, most selfish, decisions he’d ever made, but he didn’t want his son, Mary’s youngest son, away from him now that he knew that he existed.
Harry nodded. “I know, but I want to get to know you. And Sam and Dean too…I mean, I didn’t even know about Sam being alive. I was excited just finding out about you, then I found out about Dean too and I was just so excited that I jumped on a plane and flew straight out here the day after I’d found out.” Harry smiled at him, those clear, bright eyes, so much like Dean’s, so much like Mary’s, alight with excitement and happiness as Harry turned to look up at him. “It led me on a goose chase, but it was worth it.”
“Despite that driver who took you to Harvelle’s?” John asked, trying to broach the subject. Harry flinched as if he’d physically struck him.
Harry swallowed heavily and looked at his tiny, delicate wrists, which John noticed were bruised as if someone had held them very tightly or had tied them up. He took those tiny wrists into his massive, paw like hands and rubbed his thumbs gently over the bruises.
“It’s alright to talk about what he did.”
Harry swallowed heavily again and shook his head, his black, messy curls flying all over the place.
“I can’t.” Harry said, choked up. “Not yet, I’m still…I’m still afraid.”
“You don’t have to be scared of him anymore. If he found out where you were, the bastard would have to get past me first and I’ll tell you now, anyone who comes through that door will not be given a warm welcome by anyone in this house.”
Harry cracked a thin smile at that and John left him alone. He didn’t want to push Harry too much, but he would find out the extent of what that filth had done to his son and he would try and get Harry to trust him enough to see to the injuries that were making him wince every now and then and move so stiffly. He was going to try his damnedest to make this situation work while keeping Harry as safe as possible. Failure was not an option here.
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A/N: With this chapter, the fifth and final update of the month of September, I’m exhausted but very happy. I just need to survive another five updates in October and then I’ll be taking a much needed break, but one of the five updates will be another chapter for this fic. A chapter which is already complete and just in need of edits and a final read through and is currently over 13,000 words.
There was also some confusion over Harry using magic at the airport and while the trace did take effect and alert the Ministry, they are not so utterly foolish as to send him an owl while he’s in the middle of a Muggle airport. As for him using magic in America, the trace doesn’t stretch that far and there is no American Ministry, so he’s fine using magic in America, not that he knows that just yet.
I hope you lovelies have enjoyed this second chapter, the third will be some when next month, those on my Facebook will know more about that when I know more, seeing as my schedule for October has gone a bit wonky, but I will be updating this fic again,
StarLight Massacre. X
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The Tainted Blood of the Father