Chapter 6
When his brothers returned so they could go out for lunch, they weren’t covered in blood, so Harry counted that as a win.
They chose a small diner on the edge of town, Dean once again ordering for him, which Harry was fine with. They carefully avoided anything to do with the ‘job’ they were doing, but they did talk about other things, mostly stories from when they were growing up on the road. Sam had seemed to tense a little when Dean started, but Harry shrugged it off as a leftover from the fight they had yesterday.
Harry had let Dean order for him again, and Harry vowed to pay for lunch as thank to his brothers. When he pulled out his wad of hundred dollar bills his brother’s eyes seemed to pop out of their heads.
“What?”
“Where the hell did you get that?” Dean had sounded flabbergasted.
Harry, sensing he was missing something but not knowing what, answered, “The bank?”
“You robbed a bank?”
“What! No! I took it out of my vault!”
Sam seemed to understand, though he still sounded taken aback, “He got it from his bank account Dean.”
“Your rich?” Dean’s voice was incredulous.
Harry understood now, he had met them in shabby clothing, been completely used to the talk of saving money that Bobby had gotten into with his brothers, not batting an eye when he was told the clothes they bought him had been from a thrift store.
“Not really? I wasn’t supposed to touch my inheritance for anything other than school supplies.”
Harry felt a little embarrassed, he wasn’t a spoiled brat like Malfoy.
“Inheritance?” Sam questioned.
“My mom’s husband- my stepfather maybe? Anyway, when he died he left the Potter lordship to me and the fortune attached.”
They seemed to quiet at the mention of his parents’ deaths, so harry quickly added to break the tension, “they died when I was a baby, so I never really knew them! It makes me sad sometimes, but I’ve come to terms with it.”
If anything, this seemed to make it worse.
“They died when you were a baby?” Sam’s voice was careful, like he was scared to speak.
“Er-” Harry was a little uncomfortable with where the conversation was going, “Yeah, they were murdered.”
“Where!” Sam seemed almost desperate now.
Harry looked to Dean for help, but his eyes had hardened, staring at Harry like he was also waiting for his answer.
“My- er… stepfather died in the living room and my mother in the nursery-” seeing both Sam and Dean’s reaction to that harry added, “Is that bad- er that they died there?”
Sam and Dean seemed to snap out of whatever was happening to them, and exchanged a glance, Harry would’ve done anything to understand what they were silently communicating before they turned back to him.
Dean awkwardly tried to change the subject, putting on a grin and a playful lilt to his voice that was clearly forced he said, “I’ll pay for lunch okay, Lord Potter.”
-----
They dropped off Harry the moment they got back to the Hotel, then Dean found a parking lot they could have the conversation that was simmering between them.
“FUCK!” Dean slammed a his hands down on the dashboard, knowing he’d apologize to his baby later for the rough treatment.
Sam seemed to be having a silent breakdown beside him.
“Shit shit SHIT!” Dean was panicking, he could admit it.
Sam spoke for the first time since asked where Harry’s parents died, “You think it was a fire?”
Dean gave him a look that he hoped convinced him of the obviousness of the answer to that question.
“Shit.” Sam let his head it the back of his seat.
-----
It’s been a few hours since he was unceremoniously dropped off back at the hotel and the only reason Harry doesn’t think they ditched him is because they left their belongings here.
He has no bloody idea what happened and why they were so fixated on where his parents died. The second he said his mom died in his nursery the air changed in the room, Sam hadn’t said a word but Dean had tried to continue the conversation, injecting false cheer into it. If Harry hadn’t been spending so much time with him, he would’ve believed him.
Harry thinks he might be coming down with something too. He’d never been sick growing up, having learned at Hogwarts that it was because wizards were resilient to muggle illnesses, so was a little panicked at first. That was until he matched the wet coughs, chest pain, and slight fever with what he knew about colds. Maybe it was just a really hardy cold? Harry had never really understood how magic protected him from sickness so that made a sort of sense. Could he be sick from anxiety? He thought that was just hyperbole, but he guesses he could have been wrong.
In short, the last few hours have been terrible.
He tried to study some more of his Latin book, but his brain couldn’t focus on it enough for him to get anything done. Then he’d tried to get a kip in, but he couldn’t sleep with the thoughts of his brothers and his wet coughing interrupting every few minutes.
He’d decided to try watching a little TV, something he’s never done before he stayed at Bobby’s house, barely paying enough attention to it to know it was some soap opera.
He just hopes his brothers return soon. He doesn’t think his heart can take much longer.
-----
Dean had an abstract idea that using a hunt to distract himself from his feelings wasn’t healthy. He knew it because Sam had told him and his nerd brother was usually right about those sorts of things. The thing is- well… Sam isn’t doing so well either. He hasn’t spoken again and since he asked dean about Harry’s mom dying in a fire, and just nodded when Dean said they were gonna head to the library to research the Shtriga, so Dean decided to let himself be.
They were currently sat at a table in the library, Dean was pretending to research, but was really just thinking about Harry, he wondered if he also had visions, and that the reason he hadn’t talked about it was because he didn’t trust them. Sam had dived straight into research, eyes glued to the screen. Dean wondered what he was thinking. Usually he could guess but right now Sam was blank.
“Dean.”
Woken from his musings, he realized Sam had been speaking. With a roll of his eyes he repeated himself.
“Look like this ‘Shtriga’ has been hitting different towns since 1890, occurring every 15 to 20 years.” Dean nodded and Sam showed him the laptop screen, “Look at this. Picture is from an article detailing the first one in 1893. Recognize him?”
Dean froze in recognition; it was the Docter Hydecker.
Sam continues, “problem is, the lore states there’s no way to kill a Shtriga. The only way it leaves is on its own, after it finishes off the children.”
“No.”
“No?”
“There’s a way to kill it. It’s invulnerable almost all its life, except when it’s feeding.”
Sam seemed to catch on, “we are not using a kid as bait!”
“I wont let it win again!”
“Again?”
Dean paused, he didn’t particularly want to regale Sam with the tale of how he failed him, but he thinks he has to.
“It was three days since dad left us in the hotel-
~~~~~
Dean was bored. Undeniably, unbearably bored.
Every time he looked at the door outside, it got more tempting. Finally, after the sixth time he looked at it longingly, he thought screw it. Checking that Sam was still asleep and would probably be asleep for at least a couple more hours, he crept to the door and left.
He spent four hours there, using all the spare change he had been collecting on the ground for the past few months. It was amazing, the flashing lights, chiming sounds, and loud laughter sounding around him made him feel almost normal. That maybe he could just be another one of them, maybe attending a birthday party for one of his friends, stuffing his face with pizza and groaning about having to go to school tomorrow.
When it was almost closed, he traded his tickets for a cheap action figure, some movie character he’d recognized Sam had liked. He felt a little bad for not bringing him, so he thought that the figure could be a peace offering to Sam. He held the high of the night close, trying to make it last for however many more days it’d take for his father to get back. Finally getting back to the room, he could see the light bellow the door was on and cursed. Sam must’ve been awake.
Creaking the door open he saw his brother gasping and twitching in his sleep, frozen in shock, Dean shut the door behind him. Suddenly, behind him the door opened, causing him to jump. It was his father, looking more scared then he had ever seen him as he pointed his shotgun at the monster. He got off one shot, not a killing one but it did wound it, causing it to flee.
His dad rushed to Sam, who had finally woken up but was obviously delirious. After making sure he was okay, he looked at Dean like he’d never seen him before, glancing at the figure, then at Dean’s face, his faced was blank but his eyes held anger Dean had never seen before.
“You left your brother, to go get a toy.” Unlike when he was usually angry, his fathers voice was at a normal volume, like he was almost shocked, but it still held the gruff edge it always had when he was pissed.
His dad had never looked at him the same after that.
~~~~~
-I need to Sam! I need to kill it. To finish this. That’s why dad sent us here, to let me finally correct my mistake.”
Sam looked at him for a moment that seemed to stretch forever, then said, “Then we need to find where the next victim is.”