Chapter 1
Hermione doesn’t think she has ever been more anxious in her life, not when she was trapped in a bathroom with a troll, not when she heard the slithering of the basilisk in the hallway in front of her, knowing she had to let herself be paralyzed and hope that her best friends found her note, not when she saw Ron be pulled by Sirius bellow the weeping willow, never.
Harry had sent Hedwig along with a note saying that he was leaving the Dursleys, that he couldn’t stay another summer with them, then went radio silent. Not a peep. He said he would be at platform 9 ¾ on September 1st, and nothing more.
Everyone came two hours early to the platform, she assumed it was not just due to Harry’s stunt, but also the attack on the quidditch world cup, Professor Remus, Sirius (in dog form), the Weasleys, Ron, all on the lookout for him. Even her parents were looking, having been long clued in to the situation when Hermione got Ron’s letter and vented to them. Ron was under the impression they were all overreacting, Hermione thought he overestimated Harry’s abilities a bit, Ron thought Hermione was worried too much. Ron however, quickly stopped voicing his opinion when he saw everyone else disagreed with him. Even the twins couldn’t fully keep up their joking persona, having begun quietly whispering to each other.
The train was due to leave in 30 minutes and Hermione saw the distinctive birds nest she was looking for.
“Harry!”
The second he looked over she froze. He looked awful, the circles under his eyes were massive, live the were consuming them, he looked like he hadn’t showered in days, and she could faintly see a bandage applied to his right ear.
Ron rushed forward, the state of Harry must have finally convinced him that he could be hurt, saying, “Bloody hell mate! Are you okay?”
This broke the frozen atmosphere of the room, allowing everyone to converge on Harry. Sirius was the second to reach him, plowing into him causing Harry to stumble and wince. Sirius backed off in response.
One Hermione got near she noticed just how tall he’d gotten, nearly half a foot in two months, shrugging this off for more important things, she ignored it.
Mrs. Weasley began her tirade of worry, “Harry! Dear, are you ok? What happened?”
Harry seemed at a loss for word for a second, breathing in and out looking into the distance. This let Hermione finally notice his clothes, jeans, a band t-shirt, oversized flannel, and a leather jacket that swamped his skinny frame. She knew he didn’t own those before this summer.
Harry seemed to collect himself and spoke, “Car crash.”
Hermione’s mind stuttered to a stop as Mrs. Weasley said with a confused voice, “a car crash?”
Hermione found herself and rushed forward grabbing Harry’s arm and started checking him over, trying to find any and all information she knew about motor vehicle accidents. She cursed herself for not knowing much.
“We need to check for a concussion!”
“Hermione, the crash was days ago, I went to the hospital, I’m fine.” Harry said in an exhausted voice. The second she knew he was okay, she rounded on him.
“HARRY JAMES POTTER, DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED IVE BEEN!” She screeched, “YOU DIDDNT THINK TO SEND ANY NOTES? IF YOUR GOING TO BE A BLOODY IDIOT BRING ME YOU ASSHOLE!”
That at least seemed to snap him out of his funk, Harry winced an looked down, “I’m sorry, I- I just couldn’t stay.”
Hermione deflated, she couldn’t be too mad when he looked this pathetic. She’ll just yell at him some more when he’s good again.
They weren’t able to talk until they were both on the train, Harry being told off by every adult present, even Sirius got a little growly.
-----
When they had settled in their compartment, just Hermione, Ron, and Harry. Harry still looked like the dementors finally got him, and Rons curiosity finally overflowed, “where were you really?”
Both Hermione and Ron knew he never would have told the adults what really happened, Hermione thought it had to do with his Aunt and Uncle being rotten authority figures. All Harry had said to the adults was that he refused to go back to the Dursley’s, that he was done, even with that aura of depression he had, he still had the stubbornness of a bull.
“I didn’t lie in the letter! I really thought I was just goanna find a motel somewhere and become a shut in for the summer, promise! Its just, well-
_____
Harry couldn't do another summer of this.
It had only been a week since the end of the school year and he was already struggling to keep up with his chores, the small amount of food he was given being the main suspect. He’d been used to treatment like this, being worked to the bone with chores he knew weren't truly needed, only a way his relatives reminded him of his place, getting chased around by Dudley and inevitably getting either cornered and beaten, or arriving late to his relatives house, occasionally getting a slap from his aunt or uncle if they decided he deserved, Harry suspected they just made up the reason whenever they felt like it.
It had been different this summer however, it seemed as though every Dursley’s temper had hit its limit, then surpassed it. He had already been painted in pain, even his face, which usually they avoided for fear of the neighbors seeing, hadn't been safe. Due to this he hadn't been allowed out of the house.
He sat up from where he was lounging on his bed, deciding that he had to act now. The Dursleys had left for a day at a fair, leaving him alone at the house. He clambered toward his bare desk and wrote a message to Ron, explaining about his plan, but withholding any specifics. While he knew Ron would never betray him, Harry couldn’t take the chance that someone in his family would read the note. He moved to where Hedwig sat in her cage, looking unbearably bored; Harry could empathize. Carefully he began to bend the bars of her cage outward, he knew that he wouldn't be able to take it, it was too large to take with him, and carefully helped Hedwig out.
“I- we can’t do this again.” He spoke quietly while he carried her to the window as she gave him a look that he read as curious. “I’m goanna find a place; I have a lot of galleons, right? Surely, I can find a place to stay, though, maybe not as obvious as The Leaky Cauldron.”
He thought back to his last attempt the summer before, slightly embarrassed by his naivety.
“But-” he thought for a second, trying to figure out how to word it, “your pretty distinct. I think you have to stay somewhere else, maybe Ron’s?”
Hedwig gave him a look, he knew owls shouldn't be able to convey such a wide array of emotions, but he swore that look was of annoyance.
“But don't head over for a week or two, hunt around in the meantime, I doubt the Dursleys would tell Dumbledore if I left, so you are probably the thing that’s goanna tip them off.” With a shove of the window, it creaked open, “I’ll see you in September, okay?”
After a long look that Harry took as her saying to not be stupid, she dove out, quickly moving away from Private Drive. Harry stood for a long moment watching as she became a speck in the sky, before remembering that he needed to leave. Grabbing his old school backpack and another set of Dudley’s castoffs, he moved to the door to his bedroom, not even trying the door handle knowing it was locked. With a hard kick, straining his injuries, then another, the door cracked, frame torn. He pushed it open, feeling a rush of anticipation as he realized that he was actually going to do this, he was goanna leave. He had his chance to be free.
He thought Sirius Black was going to be his chance. For that short time between him learning the truth and Pettigrew escaping, he had hope. He imagined how that life would have gone, living with Sirius, having his friends over in the summer, maybe he’d even get to have a sleepover! He knew it was childish but whenever Dudley had left to go to one, all he could imagine was joining him, telling stories and having pillow fights. Now he knew it couldn't happen; he had lost his chance. But that didn't mean he had to stay with the Dursleys, if he couldn't live with a good family, he would just live alone.
He arrived at the cupboard under the stairs, carefully blocking out the thoughts that it caused him, and kicked it open. Pulling back the remnants of the door, he got a look at his trunk. Pulling it out, he pushed open the lid and immediately felt a bolt of self-hatred. Books, clothes, his broom, all of it and more was haphazardly thrown in, maybe he should have listened to Hermione and been organized. Plunging his hands through it, he found his wand, cloak, a leftover notebook, and his copy of “Charms Basics, Years 1-4", he might as well do some of his homework this year, seeing as he actually could this time. He shoved them into the backpack, slung it over, and pushed his trunk back into the cupboard.
He went to the window, planning to leave through it as he knew the front door was locked, but paused, and started berating himself. How was he supposed to get to Gringotts! The Knight Bus was out seeing as he knew he would be recognized, and that it would inevitably get back to Dumbledore. Thinking quickly, he tore his way upstairs, praying that he remembered correctly. He pushed his way into Dudley’s room, preparing himself for the smell he knew radiated from it. He moved quickly, got on the floor and peaked under the bed, there, behind the dirty laundry was a piggy bank, one that he expected Dudley to forget about. He saw it the last time he cleaned Dudley’s room, before his cousin decided his room was off-limits to Harry, citing Harry’s being in the room “infecting” it. Harry pulled it out, and immediately punched it, ignoring the new scratches he gained.
“1, 2, 3, 4.50.” He murmured, that should be enough for the train to central London. Scrambling up, he was about to leave when he spotted a baseball cap in a pile of trash. He scooped it up, checking to see if it had any unfortunate substances on it, finding it clean he put it on.
Rushing downstairs, then through the window, he felt liberated. Hope rising in his chest, he began his long walk to the train station.
-----
Standing before The Leaky Cauldron he felt a strong sense of Déjà vu, almost a year ago he had been here, fleeing from the Dursleys, well... more like the government.
Pushing down the ball cap to make sure his scar was hidden, he pushed through the door, walking quickly through the room, praying he wouldn't be recognized. He got to the alley, pulled out his wand, and made the correct pattern on the wall, once again pushing down his cap. Once he got a look at Diagon Alley he froze, it was almost empty, with only a few people rushing by to make their purchases. He thought back and realized how empty the Leaky was, apprehension growing.
Still, he needed to get to Gringotts, so he pushed on. At least the chances of being recognized were less, he reasoned.
The goblins, at least, were their normal grouchy selves, eyeing him like they thought he was waiting for a chance to rob them.
He made way through to the first free banker; he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.
“Key?”
“Uh- no, I- uh, don’t have one?” Harry took a breath cursing himself, “I do not have it in me, I think Dumbledore has it.”
The goblin sneered down their nose for a moment, then spoke, “Then we have to do a blood test.”
“Ok! I mean, ok.” Harry had never been so nervous in his life, it wasn't just the, frankly, intimidating goblins, but the idea that he was trying to trick Dumbledore into thinking he never left the Dursleys, all of his hopes depended on him getting access to his vault.
The goblin scoffed and said, “follow Sherkhole, she will bring you to the testing room.”
The goblin pointed to the right of Harry, and he turned and jumped a little when he found Sherkhole standing there, he hadn’t noticed her approach. She nodded at him and then began walking to a side door, causing Harry to rush to follow. He moved through so many passages that he knew he wouldn’t know the way back out, before abruptly stopping when Sherkhole stepped into a room. He moved inside, seeing Sherkhole pull herself into the chair behind her tall desk, leaving Harry to walk to the front of it and awkwardly stand. On the desk was a wooden bowl, a set of papers, and a beautifully carved knife. On the walls stood dozens and dozens of file boxes, oddly modern compared to the rest of the wizarding world. He was jolted out of his musings by a shrill voice.
“To conduct a blood test, simply bleed into the bowl no less the 5 drops of blood.”
He reluctantly grabbed onto the blade, immediately feeling a pull at his core, the symbols began to glow faintly. He looked at Sherkhole, seeing that she wasn’t concerned, he assumed it was normal. He took the blade and carefully cut into his pinky, wincing as he felt the small pain. He carefully dripped five drops into the bowl, then pulled his hand away, wiping the excess blood onto his jeans and keeping his wound pressed against it to absorb any new blood.
Sherkhole reached into the desk and pulled out a bottle of a clear liquid, and without preamble dumped it into the bowl, swirling the blood in the process. She grabbed the papers, then dumped them into the bowl. He saw as previously invisible markings on the bowl lit up, and letters began to form on the pages. Sherkhole reached into the bowl and grabbed the, mysteriously, dry paper and passed them to Harry.
Harry looked, feeling a weird sense of apprehension.
He gave a double look when he saw the parentage section, “What does blood adopted mean?”
Sherkhole gave him a look that she was questioning his intelligence, then answered, “a blood adoption is when a wizard adopts a child, typically within a year of them being born to avoid unwanted side effects, to induct them into their house, while also giving them any family based magics available to the family line.”
Harry’s mind was racing, it- it couldn’t be, “so- if I had two fathers… the one that doesn’t say blood adopted would be my father?”
“He would be your biological father, yes.”
Harry stared at the name ‘John Winchester.’ He felt like the ground fell out from under him. “And- and if his name doesn’t have the word deceased next to it, he would be alive?”
“Assumably so.”
Harry finally looked away from the page, only just now seeing the annoyed look on the goblins face. “Is there a way to find him?” He asked eagerly.
The goblin stood, moving to one of the fill boxes, only just now he had realized they were marked with two letters. She pulled out the one labeled ‘WI’, the drawer that came out was impossibly long, it was almost the length of the room. Sherkhole gingerly pulled a file out, then moved back to her desk. Stood in printed letters was ‘John Eric Winchester.’
Looking through it she spoke, “his last place of residence was in Lawrence, Kansas, America. I’m assuming you wish for a copy of the address?”
“Yes please.”
“Very well.” She slipped her hand back into the desk pulling out a key, harry assumed it was his new one, and a piece of paper, to which she promptly copied the address.
All of this was going way to quick in Harry’s opinion. He had just found out he had a living, breathing father in America of all places, and that, that was important. Important enough to change all of his plans.
Accepting the proffered items, he spoke, “could I exchange some money? Some pounds and American dollars?”
Sherkhole looked at him consideringly, “for a fee, of course.”
“Then… 1,000 pounds and 5,000 dollars should be enough?” he had no real idea how much pounds were worth, as he had never really purchase anything in the muggle world, let alone American dollars. He hoped that was enough for a week or two.
“We will need to visit your vault, heir potter.”
-----
When Harry left Gringotts he almost forgot to check that his cap was secure, his mind was frantically trying to map out his plans. He had to get to the U.S., find Kansas, which he assumed was a state, and then a town named Lawrence inside it. He had been surprised by just how many bills he’d been given, but accepted it quickly, wondering just how muggles carried all their money on their person.
Once he was back in muggle London, he asked a passing man for directions to the nearest library. Before he got them though, the man asked if he was okay and Harry remembered that his face was currently painted in bruises. He made his excuses, and the second he got the directions he left, making the short trek to the library. Inside, to his slight embarrassment, he had to ask the teenager at the counter to help him use the computer, having never used one before. Once he understood the basics, he got a map of the U.S. printed, circled Lawrence, then went on his search for a plane ride to catch. He found one at 4:00 AM to Kansas City, after which he would take a bus to nearby Lawrence.
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It was surprisingly easy to bypass airport security with an invisibility cloak.
_____
“-James Potter wasn’t my father.”
Hermione and Ron both froze.
Harry rushed to continue, “I needed to do a blood test to access my vault and, my father- his name is John Winchester. He’s alive.”
Hermione put the pieces together, “You were with him this summer?”
“Mostly my brother- er half-brothers, but I met him near the end!”