Harry Winchester

Harry had found the house. Nervousness clung to him like a cloak, causing his palms to sweat. It had taken him a full day to figure out how to get to Lawrence from Kansas City, not to mention the time it took him to actually find the address of the house.

He took a deep breath and knocked. It took a few minutes to get a response. A blonde, middle aged women opened the door, “Hello?”

Harry, slightly surprised to not be seeing, he now realized he was imagining John Winchester to look exactly like James Potter, gaped for a second before swallowing and speaking, “Um, hello, do you know a John Winchester?”

She looked down at him curiously before responding, “he was one of the prior owners, why?”

Harry felt relief, for a second he thought the goblins had written down the wrong address, “do you have his phone number? I need to contact him.”

“No, sorry, I don’t.”

Harry deflated, disappointed but already thinking of ways he could find his father, maybe government records? His thoughts were interrupted by the women’s voice, “I do have his elder son’s number. Would that work?”

Harry grinned, “Yes ma’am! That would be amazing!”

Five minutes later he left to begin his search for a phone booth, one piece of paper with a phone number listed on it.

-----

Dean was stressed. Not that he’d ever tell anyone- no, that was an inside thought. He and Sam were cruising down a highway at slightly above speed limit speeds on the way to Lawrence, Kansas. They had been able to find a pattern between all the deaths of their current case in Chicago, Illinois; all of the victims were from their hometown. While they had gone back not to long ago to deal with a poltergeist, he would still rather not. Unfortunately, Sam had met Meg again, and deemed it too much of a suspicious coincidence, something that he partially agreed with. Meg had given Sam the apparent address to her house, saying to come by sometime. And now here they were, going back to their hometown.

He just hoped they could get this over and done with, so they could hopefully never come back again. But seeing as this is the second time in the past few months that they’ve been there, he wasn’t putting any money on it.

A ringing started sounding from the back seat, waking Sam who had been stealing a few minutes of shut eye. Sam blearily asked, “Dean what is it?”

Dean quickly pulled out his phone, it’s annoying ringing blaring from it.

“Phone.” Dean said, then answered the call.

“Hello? Is this Dean Winchester?” I was a kid on the line, British he noticed, his voice had cracked when he said ‘hello’, causing him to try to deepen the rest of his words.

“Who’s asking?” Dean said. Sam was making a sign that dean could translate to mean put on the speaker. Dean ignored him.

“Harry Potter, sir.”

“Why’re you calling” Dean questioned. Sam had given up at this point and rolled his eyes, looking forward in annoyance.

“Jenny gave me your number; she told me you moved?” His voice came out questioning.

Dean blanked for a moment, then realized who exactly Jenny was, the new owner of the house he grew up in, which lead to more questions. “Why are you calling?” His voice came out gruffer this time, suspicion growing.

“I think we should have that conversation in person.” Then he tacked on a “sir.”

Dean was getting tired of this ‘Harry’ not answering his question.

Dean, fed up, just grumbled out, “Tell me.”

The voice didn’t speak for a moment seeming to collect their thoughts, then spoke, “I don’t, uh- think your father would’ve talked to you about it but- about 14 and a half years ago? Around 1991, November? He met a women named Lily Evans? Maybe Lily Potter?”

Dean hoped he wasn’t picking up what harry was putting down, he slowly tapped the speaker button, rousing Sam from his staring competition with the road. “Say that again?”

In a more confident voice then last time, he spoke, “Do you remember your father saying he meet a woman in around November 1991? Red hair, green eyes? Her name was either Lily Evens or Lily Potter.”

He and Sam shared a glance, he knew Sam had made the connection with the age of the voice, the women, and the year. Dean spoke, “Are you saying what I think your saying?”

Harry spoke in an unconfident voice, “Yes? I believe so? I was able to find this house under your father’s name so I thought I could maybe meet him? But uh, Jenny informed me that you er- existed, so… we can meet too, if that all good with you.”

-----

Harry was both excited and a little scared.

His half-brothers had agreed to meet him at a diner of the main street, Harry agreed before he realized he would have to walk there. He was meeting his family! Living, breathing, family! That, hopefully, didn’t hate him! He knew it was a low bar, living and not assholes? But it was something he wasn’t expecting to ever get, Dean and Sam seemed pretty friendly, if a little gruff on the phone. The only problem was, he looked like shit, it was his second day wearing the same old clothes and he completely forgot how messed up his face was, a little kid even asked him if he got ran over for bloody sakes. So currently he was in the bathroom of the diner trying, and failing, to ‘freshen up.’

Harry knew they were goanna think he was some delinquent. And they’d be right seeing as he ran away from his relative’s house! He’s had plenty of experience with being thought of as a delinquent, troublemaker, all around bad kid thanks to Petunia spreading rummers to the entire neighborhood and his entire school. But he’d gotten through it because he knew they were wrong, he hadn’t even sworn before Hogwarts! But now his family is going to think he is.
‘Fuck it’ he thought, if he didn’t leave this bathroom he’d never even meet them, and meeting them had to be better than not, no matter their reaction to him. He checked his cracked watch and realized he’d been in there longer than he thought, it was now 5 minutes after they agreed to meet. Rushing out, he saw two men seated towards him. Brushing his sweaty palms on his pants he walked up stuttering in his steps slightly when he saw their condition. They were both dress strangely similarly, graphic t’s, flannels, but the short one was wearing a leather jacket over it all, the concerning thing however, were the injuries, the tall one’s face left cheek was covered in a bandage, his chin and just over his right eye bruised severely, the short one sported a small cut over his right eye, and a bruise on his left cheek.

Stopping when he got to their table he asked to the tall one, “Dean?”

“Ah no, Sam.”

Harry winced and then said, “yes, hello Sam,” turning to dean, “Dean.”

Harry was cursing his brain, why did he think the taller one was automatically the older one! God their both done growing, its not like Sam would be still catching up. He slipped into the opposite side of the booth to the brothers- his half-brothers. God this was really happening!

Both Dean and Sam were looking at him and Harry took that as his cue to speak, opening his mouth to speak, but thankfully a waitress saved him from a no doubt embarrassing attempt at human interaction saying, “Hello, names Wendy, what can I get for you?”

Dean, not looking away from Harry, answered, “Two bacon cheeseburgers with fries and two cokes and a water,” Dean pointed at Sam, “and something green for him.”

“Coming up” the waitress said, smiling as she left.

The second she was out of earshot, Sam spoke before an awkward silence could develop, “so, Harry, your British?”

Harry let out a sigh of relief, silently shanking Sam for picking an easy topic, “yes. I’m from Surry, Little Winging specifically, but my accents a little funky cause I go to a Scottish boarding school.” There, one, full sentence down. He can do this.

-----

Dean wouldn’t show his anxious thoughts. He wouldn’t. Even if just a few hours he was fighting off daevas with their father, leading to him having to separate from him, completely cutting off all communication for fear of distracting his father and getting him killed. He had completely forgotten to question him about Harry like an idiot. Then he remembered that they had plans to meet him at 8:00 am sharp at a diner on the other side of town. It was 8:53. They’d arrived a few minutes late, Sam having attempted to bandage the wounds that would certainly be added to his kid brother’s collection of scars. God if Harry really was their brother would that name even make sense with multiple kid brothers?

When they got inside the diner it was blessedly empty, letting them choose a far corner booth with their backs to a wall and full view of the room.

When Harry had walked up to them Dean was stunned. He was small, he would have pegged him as 12, not almost 14, and the bruises, he had a black eye, his chin was messed up, and his right cheek had a bruise blooming nicely.

Dean had let Sam carry then majority of the conversation, leading to Sam asking mainly about school and friend, apparently Hermione’s ‘bloody brilliant’, and Ron’s a ‘chess master.’ The second the food and utensils got there, just as they had planned, Sam distracted the kid, allowing Dean to subtly dump holy water in his cup and replace his normal silverware with genuine silver. Dean only relaxed when he saw Harry take a drink and his hand brush his utensils, both without any sign of pain or recognition.

Now that Dean had ruled out Harry being a monster, he could focus on the other topic pulling at his mind, those bruises.

Deciding he could finally enter the conversation, he spoke, “So, who are you staying with?” Not as subtle as he usually was, but effective.

“When I’m not at school I stay at my relatives’ house.” Dean could recognize the Winchester trademarked avoidance of a topic, but this was a little to important to let pass.

“I mean, who are you traveling with, I assume your relatives live in Brittain.” Dean pushed.

Harry gave Dean a look, like he was assessing him, then answered, “No-one, currently.”

Dean was thrown, and a look to Sam showed he was too. Then Sam made a movement towards Sam, and Dean realized what he was saying. The bruises, the use of the word ‘relative’, the traveling alone. Fuck, they had a run-away.

“How’d you get to America?” Sam asked.

Harry tried to change the subject, “So, John? Is he around here?”

Dean and Sam shared a look before Dean said, “He’s out on a job right now, won’t be back for a while.”

Dean could see Harry visibly deflate a bit, mind scrambling. He quickly rushed to say, “You can stay with us for a bit! Uh, we were goanna visit Bobby for a while- he’s kind’a like our uncle.”

That seemed to both surprise the kid and delight him, “Really? That would be great! Thank you.”

Dean hadn’t really thought it through if he was being honest, all he knew was the kid wasn’t going back to his ‘relatives’, and the easiest way to ensure that was to take ‘em with them.

A look toward Sam told him he didn’t exactly agree.

“Hey kid.” Dean said to get Harry’s attention, “Take the keys and sit in the car, 1967 Chevy Impala, can’t miss it. We’ll pay and be right out.”

Harry looked to Sam, then Dean, seeming to sense the tension between them, before accepting the keys and walking out.

-----

Sam wasn’t sure how he felt about Harry.

He was just a kid. If he was born in 1991, that would make him 13 or 14. He wouldn’t even have started thinking about college! From how he talked about his friends, it was obvious that he cared deeply about them. He had a chance to not be in this life, to not be a hunter, Sam wanted to make sure he never became a hunter, and the only way to do that was to make sure he wasn’t near them. He knew that you could never really leave once you were in.

But Sam was also kind of excited about it. He had another brother, one raised completely apart from them! He knew the kid was a little intimidated, Sam could tell, so he made sure to slouch a little to appear shorter and tried to seem harmless, though he assumed his injuries did a lot to kill his attempts. Nevertheless, he could see he was a good kid. Maybe they could visit every once in a while? He hoped so.

One thing he knew though, was that they couldn’t let him go back to his ‘relatives.’ He just vehemently opposed Dean’s solution to it.

“Really Dean! We can’t pull a kid into this life! I refuse.”

Dean paused for a moment, consideringly, then spoke, “well settle for a while at Bobby’s, maybe spend the summer there, the kid sounded like he quite liked his fancy boarding school, so he’ll probably go back when it starts again. We’ll get back on the road when he leaves.”

Sam doubted they could stay out of trouble the entire summer, seeing as the last few months since he came back have gone, but he knew where he was beat. The stubborn look in Dean’s eyes was there, he knew he wouldn’t be able to change his mind. “Fine. But your calling and explaining it to Bobby”

_____

Ron thought back to the conversation on the train, the excitement of the announcement of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, then the abrupt disappointment of not being able to compete took much of his concentration in the past few days. That wasn’t to say he forgot that Harry ditched his relatives, snuck on a plane, found his muggle brothers, and hung out with them for the summer, doing a bunch of cool shit like shooting a muggle contraption that harry called a ‘gun,’ from Hermione’s reaction to that bit, worry, then it must’ve been fun, to learning how to spare without wands!

It’s just- Harry’s fine. He knew he would be. He used to worry a lot about him, whenever he was out of sight, he had this urging need to check if he was safe. He once admitted it to Hermione when harry was out, she called it ‘one-sided codependence.’ That was, however, before he realized that Harry was kinda invincible. Not literally, obviously. But metaphorically. With all the shit he’s done, fought Quirrell possessed by Voldemort, killed a basilisk, repelled hundreds of dementors with a single patronus, the chance that hell die randomly, and not a long-drawn-out battle? Impossible. That’s what he would tell himself whenever he felt that fear rise in him. That moment he saw Harry on the platform? That- that almost made him change his mind, worried beyond belief that he’d just drop. But as always, he was fine, only needed to go to the medical ward cause the adults wanted his healing to be sped up, he would’ve healed just fine.

He was sitting at the base of the tower to divination for their first class in the subject, waiting for both Hermione and Harry to get back from the dorms because Harry forgot his book and Hermione wanted to grab her arithmancy book, never mind that the arithmancy third year class today was at the same time as divination. When he asked why she would need it, she just stuttered out ‘f-for studying!’

He wondered what Harry would’ve been like if he was raised by his father with his brothers. Not that he disliked Harry- he was his best friend! An all-around amazing bloke! It’s just, he can see how the Dursley’s affected him sometimes, Ron could never have lied to all the adults straight to their faces, the only reason being that he didn’t trust authority figures.

Ron saw Harry’s trust die in Sirius when he sided with Dumbledore. Harry had asked, the closest thing he would get to begging, for Sirius to take him in for the summer. But Sirius had sided with Dumbledore, had said he had to go back to the Dursley’s. Harry doesn’t trust authority figures, barely accepts the prefects even seeing his interactions with Percy. Ron just thinks that, if Harry had the chance to live with his father and his two brothers, grown up with that love that Ron has known all his life, then maybe Harry would be a bit happier.

-----

Hermione knows something happened last summer. She doesn’t think Ron has noticed yet, but it won’t be long till he does. Harry’s been dead on his feet for the past three days since he returned. She first assumed, and believe Ron still thinks, that it’s just due to the scarring. Madam Pomfrey hadn’t been able to return it to how it was before the crash, it had healed too much. She closed the wounds, healed the bumps and bruises he had, and sent him away, leaving a large chunk missing surrounded by rough skin.

She knows Harry’s always had opinions about the scar on his forehead, though part of it could be the fame that is attached to it. She believed, however, that it was also a reminder of what happened, the death of his parents.

She’s convinced that something more happened in that car crash. She’s noticed that Harry hasn’t spoken once about visiting them again, never speaking in future tense, but past. He’s never been out of his dorm room without that jacket under his robes, regardless of how bulky it looks under it. She hopes she’s wrong, but every time Harry lingers just a little long on his reflection, be it in armor, windows, or dishware, she feels that hope leave her.