“Can I come with you?”
June 23
So… Harry’s brothers hunted witches.
Harry’s brothers were hunting for a yellow-eyed witch (and Harry’s stomach turned horribly when he thought of Madam Hooch who Harry had always liked) and the witch that took down the airplane.
Which… had to have been Harry.
Harry killed those people and the only two members of his family left in the world were going to hunt him down, not realizing that he was with them the whole time.
It all just made Harry feel sick enough that he wished he could pull his wand when Dean turned the van down a lane in the middle of nowhere. It was late - early? - and Harry had been tired until Dean said they were arriving. Harry assumed it was the house that belonged to the ‘Bobby’ that Dean talked about calling before.
Though, Harry was momentarily nostalgic for the Burrow when he saw the dark piles of what were probably cars that filled the lot. It had the chaotic messy sense that Ron’s home had, one that Harry loved.
“Bobby’s an oddball,” Dean said, turning to look at Harry after he parked beside the wooden house. There was a bloke standing outside, too in the shadows for Harry to make much out.
“He’s real superstitious and has a bunch of rituals,” Dean went on. “He’s awesome though, you’ll see.”
Harry nodded and took some comfort from the grin Sam gave him before he opened his door and climbed out when the other two did. Sam clearly didn’t think Harry was a witch (wizard) because Harry heard him tell Dean that Harry should go on ‘hunts’ with them.
Though Harry couldn’t imagine that he’d see another witch or wizard and not be given away immediately. The lightning bolt scar tended to be something like a flashing billboard of ‘Boy-Who-Lived’. And even while Harry was making up plans as he went (Hogwarts would be expecting him come September… but Harry already didn’t want to leave behind his family, though he had no idea if they even wanted him to stay more than a day or two…) he knew that announcing he was a wizard wasn’t going to go over very well.
Witch hunters.
Hermione would call it barbaric and Harry agreed. It was barbaric that Harry would find out he had a family only to then find out they wanted to kill witches and wizards.
Still… Harry followed his brothers (brothers, Harry had brothers) from the van up to a little wooden porch attached to the house. The man that waited on them immediately reminded Harry of Hagrid. He wasn’t as tall as Hagrid, but with the scruffy brown beard, comfortable looking flannel, and dark eyes that seemed kind nearly hidden beneath the brim of a hat, it wasn’t a bad comparison.
“Damn.” The man, Bobby, immediately looked at Harry and swore. Harry looked over at Sam, but Dean was the one who interpreted.
“Told ya so,” Dean told Bobby. He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and Harry tried to not let it mean so much. “John freakin’ Junior, huh?”
“I’ll say.” Bobby nodded his head at Harry and then offered his hand. “Bobby Singer.”
Harry accepted his handshake and didn’t even grimace at the water covering his hand. Harry just hoped it was water anyway…
“Harry Potter,” he said.
“British?” Bobby looked at Dean. “Ya didn’t tell me that.”
“Cut me a break, we just met the kid,” Dean complained. He hefted the duffel he carried up on his shoulder and waved his hand toward the door behind Bobby. “You gonna let us in or not?”
“I oughta make you sleep outside if you’re gonna be mouthy,” Bobby grumbled. He winked at Harry though so Harry straightened up and grinned back.
Harry was pretty sure that Bobby was another hunter, based on the conversation between Sam and Dean, but he was just as friendly as Harry’s brothers.
How long would everyone stay friendly when they found out Harry was the wizard that caused the airplane crash?
Not long. It would be deserved, Harry killed those people… destroyed those families… it would just be easier to accept being killed for it if it didn’t come from his brothers hands.
It was just Harry’s luck to find a real family of his own and for them to be plotting his death.
Harry stuck his hands deep in his pockets and felt his shoulders sagging as he followed Sam and Dean inside the house. There was an odd moment where it seemed as if Bobby purposefully nearly closed the door in Harry’s face and Harry had to grab the knob to keep it from shutting on him.
“Cookoo,” Sam whispered to Harry when Harry stepped in after him. Harry flashed another grin, though it was probably a rather tired one. Harry wasn’t too tired to look around in Bobby’s house as they walked though.
It was kind of cluttered with a bunch of boxes and plastic bins laying around, but the living room they went to was box free.
There was a bookshelf in the room that was completely empty and Bobby must have noticed Harry’s eyes lingering on that curiosity.
“I just put it up, gotta fill it now,” Bobby said.
Harry looked at the dust covering the shelves and nodded uncertainly. The rest of the house, from what Harry could see, was more of the same with rustic and warm decorations and then shelves and surfaces either cleared of anything out with boxes stacked on them. Dean cut off Harry’s idle inspection of the house by yawning loudly and stretching his arms up over his head.
“Boys, I’m beat,” Dean said. He turned to glance at Sam. “You comin’?”
Harry was sure he was being included in the offer, but he still couldn’t help the little pang of envy at the easy way Sam and Dean interacted. They clearly didn’t have any secrets between them and even if they had a row when they stopped for food, it was patched up easily enough.
When Harry watched them singing and goofing off in the van it just felt hopeless getting to know them. Harry would never be any more accepted by them than he was the Dursleys. The Dursleys hated magic, the Winchesters hunted witches. And it wasn’t as if Harry could convince them that witches and wizards were good people, but when Harry caused a crash that took one hundred and seven lives.
Harry shivered as he followed at the end of Bobby, Dean, and Sam up a set of wooden stairs off the living room. Harry paused midway up the stairs when he saw a single photo on the wall.
It was Sam and Dean, the same boys that were in the photo with John Winchester that Sam carried. In the photo on the wall they were with Bobby and Harry tilted his head curiously at the way they were smiling so brightly.
They hadn’t really been smiling in the photo with John, but they looked childish and happy in the photo with Bobby. Harry liked the photo, even if their dad wasn’t in it.
When they reached the top of the stairs, it was a rather narrow hallway. Sam and Dean must have stayed there frequently (Dean said they lived there but then said he had to call Bobby to tell him they were going to stay with him so Harry wasn’t sure which it was) because they automatically turned to the first door on the right.
“I got another room you can use,” Bobby told Harry. He waved at the different doors and pointed out the bathroom by the room where Sam and Dean headed and his room next to the spare room Harry could use.
“Hold up.” Dean dropped his bag by his door and stepped past Harry in the room Harry was meant to use. Harry watched while Dean flipped the blue cover off the bed, ruffled under the pillows. Dean checked the drawers of the single dresser in the room and under the bed. Harry couldn’t imagine what he was looking for until Dean slid open the nightstand drawer and scoffed as he pulled out a small black gun.
“Knew I was forgettin’ something,” Bobby shrugged. Dean clicked a few buttons on the gun and Harry’s fingers twitched for the comfort of his wand when he pulled back a switch on it. All he did was take it partially apart though so Harry was relieved nobody noticed his flash of panic.
“Let’s keep the guns somewhere safe, huh?” Dean said as he handed Bobby the gun.
“Yeah, alright,” Bobby said slowly, rolling his eyes when he thought Harry wasn’t looking.
Harry had actually never been around any type of f firearm outside of the rifle Uncle Vernon once bought. It was interesting to see in the way that Harry’s broken bones were - terrifying, but interesting.
Sam yawned and then put his hand on Harry’s shoulder for a second while he reminded him where they would be asleep at if he needed anything. Bobby said since he ‘wasn’t a lazy ass’ he’d be outside working.
And as soon as Harry was alone in the bedroom with the door closed, he called Sirius.
The last time Harry talked to him he had been when he planned to find a way back to England. Harry was actually tired, but as Sirius was the only person who knew where Harry was, Harry figured he should at least tell him.
At a minimum, maybe Sirius would notice when Harry’s calls stopped once Sam and Dean discovered who had caused the airplane crash in Nevada.
Harry dropped his bag on the nightstand and shed his jeans before crawling up in the bed. It was comfortable, even the blanket was thick and cozy. Harry crossed his legs and rested the mirror there after he pulled it from his bag.
It only took a few seconds before Sirius answered and Harry was quick to shush him.
“Why are we being quiet?” Sirius whispered loudly. He squinted his eyes in the mirror and Harry figured he was difficult to see in the darkness of the room. “Harry?”
“I dunno how thin the walls are,” Harry whispered back. “I’m fine. I was just going to tell you I’m with- with my brothers.”
Sirius immediately smiled so widely that it made Harry smile as well. It had been a heavy blow to know he had arrived only a month too late to meet John, but brothers. Harry had always, his entire life, wanted brothers.
“Brilliant!” Sirius cried in an excited whisper. “Why are we whispering then? John knows about magic, they should too.”
Harry didn’t say that was the problem. Truthfully, even if Sirius had done Harry a real favor by telling him about John Winchester, he also always had terrible advice. Also, Sirius was impulsive and mental. If Harry told Sirius that his brothers hunted witches - if Harry told him that he was pretty sure the bloke who owned the house he was in also hunted witches - there was no telling what Sirius would do.
Sirius certainly wouldn’t understand that Sam and Dean were only getting justice for the hundred people who died. Harry hated thinking that Sirius would find out about that, Harry hated thinking that Sirius would be disgusted with him or hate him.
“I just haven’t said anything yet,” Harry said evasively. “John’s dead too, died a month ago.”
“Oh.” Sirius lost his eager smile and seemed sympathetic. “Damn. I’m sorry, Pup. I bet he would have loved you.”
Harry smiled faintly at the idea, though he doubted it heavily.
“Oi, are there more wizarding towns in the States?” Harry asked quickly, wanting to find out before he forgot to ask.
If things got tricky - even if Harry deserved it - Harry didn’t think that he’d be able to just stand by when his brothers discovered what he was and tried to kill him. If he had to, Harry would need a quick escape to get back to his friends.
His magical friends who would be happy for Harry to learn he had brothers and who would be horrified to learn that there truly were still muggles in the world that hunted witches.
Sirius didn’t know where on a map Harry was, but as he was staying just outside a wizarding city in Majorca, he said he would get Harry a list before the next time Harry called. Harry promised to call again soon and then snuggled down beneath his blanket after they disconnected.
It wasn’t surprising that Harry’s dreams were of flames and ash, blood and innards spread out on the ground.
Harry looked down at his feet and made a horrified sound at the squishy pink bit of human body he stepped on. People were screaming, dying, and the smoke was choking him.
When Harry looked up, it was from an organ on the ground to a gun in his face.
“You killed them,” Dean said in a hard voice. There was no smile on his face, no indication that he struggled with what Harry knew he was going to do. Sam stood just beside him and glared at Harry with genuine hate in his eyes.
“It was an accident,” Harry said hoarsely, begging for his life. “Please, I didn’t—”
The gun fired and Harry’s forehead exploded in a burst of white hot pain so terrible that he still felt it when he woke up.
Harry woke up with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat and his legs tangled up in a blanket. Harry’s heart was racing and he touched his forehead, hissing at the pain that radiated from his scar.
The pain was so real, so sharp, that Harry curled forward when he thought he was actually going to be sick.
Harry’s scar had hurt a few times over the years, but only when Quirrell had been around him or when Harry had been near the shade of Tom Riddle in his second year. There was no way that the ghost of Voldemort, or whatever Professor Dumbledore believed he was, could be near Harry then though… The odds were so small of such a thing happening they were nearly nothing.
Never zero though…
It was that thought that had Harry automatically swinging his legs out of bed, suddenly restless. There was a window beside the single wooden dresser in the room and Harry padded over to peek out the filmy and yellowed curtain.
The sun was up, but not by much. Harry would guess it was around seven, maybe eight. It meant he only slept for around four hours, but there was no way he would be able to get back to sleep. Harry looked outside while he waited for his heart to return to a normal rhythm.
It seemed as if Bobby lived in some sort of car lot. There were at least a dozen vehicles in the gravel covered grounds that surrounded the side of the house Harry looked out on. Most of the cars looked so old and so damaged Harry couldn’t imagine they worked. There was one that looked nice, Harry thought it was the car in the photo Sam had. The car was a dusty looking grey, not the glossy black that it used to be, but it looked the same.
Harry grinned when he saw a Ford Angela, the only vehicle he could identify by look alone.
Seeing the car - and Harry’s full bladder - gave Harry a small boost of courage to quietly leave the bedroom. The bathroom was just as small and simple as the rest of the house and Harry thought Sam must have been telling the truth when he saw three toothbrushes hanging in a hanger by the sink. There was a green one, a blue one with a black ‘D’ on it, and then a red one with an ‘S’.
Maybe Bobby was something like their godfather? It would explain their closeness… maybe Harry would have photos in Sirius’s house and a toothbrush in his bathroom if things had been different.
Harry was still picturing life if Sirius was free as he quietly made his way downstairs. Maybe they would have a little house somewhere that would always have a bedroom open for Harry… somewhere Harry didn’t have to hide his magic or tiptoe on the stairs so he didn’t wake anyone else up.
Except someone, Bobby, was already awake. Harry had stepped in the doorway of the kitchen on the opposite side of the little foyer they came through the night before and found Bobby alone in the kitchen.
Bobby had his back to Harry while he cooked something on the stove, but he must have heard Harry walk in anyway.
“I got eggs fryin’ and sausage on the skillet. There’s coffee too.”
“Er…” Harry looked over at the counter where Bobby pointed a spatula at. Harry didn’t particularly like coffee, but it was better than nothing. It was quiet while Harry poured coffee in one of the mugs by the maker until Harry asked Bobby if he wanted a drink as well.
“I’ll need two of ‘em if you boys are stickin’ around,” Bobby said gruffly, but not without some warmth in his voice. Harry no sooner sat a mug down at the little four-person table than Bobby slid two huge plates of fried eggs and sausage links on the table.
“Better eat up, Dean’ll be pickin’ at your food if he smells breakfast.”
“Thanks,” Harry said. He sat down on the edge of his seat and pretended not to notice how hard Bobby was staring at him. It was possibly one of the most uncomfortable situations of Harry’s life until Bobby spoke up again.
“I told Dean he couldn’t just go grabbin’ kids, believin’ they’re his brother, but I guess he wasn’t just takin’ your word for it, huh?” Bobby asked. “Any idea how he met your mama?”
Harry grinned at what was actually a rather odd story as he casually stabbed one of the eggs to take a bite.
“I guess they met while my mum was on her honeymoon with my dad.”
Harry watched as Bobby choked and sputtered on his own food while he realized he was starving and starting eating more earnestly.
It was much less awkward between them after that.
Harry was trying so hard to make himself likable - someone who should be kept around, someone who shouldn’t be shot in the head - and he thought it was working. Bobby seemed to like Harry enough while he asked him question after question, just normal things like the boys had already asked Harry.
Yes, technically Harry had run away.
Don’t send me back.
No, the Dursleys would never be looking for him.
I have no one, really.
Harry’s parents friend ‘Star’ (Harry would never live it down if Ron learned that was the quickest lie Harry could come up with for ‘Sirius’) was the one to tell him about John Winchester, Harry had no idea before then.
Harry would have done anything to be raised with his brothers.
Bobby asked about Harry’s school and Harry very nearly slipped up.
“It’s a boarding school, Hog- Hoggarts School for er… criminals.”
Harry could have smacked himself the instant the words were out of his mouth. Why did he say that? Of all the stupid things Harry could have said… he had nearly said Hogwarts and then caught himself and thought he’d use the old standby the Dursleys used to explain Harry’s absences.
Harry was going to have to keep track of the lies he was telling or else he’d end up making more and more mistakes until they found out he was lying. Bobby already look skeptical, he stared hard at Harry as he repeated his words back to him in a deadpan voice.
“You go to Hoggarts School for Criminals?” Bobby asked him while Harry shifted under the weight of his stare. Harry started pushing the rest of his food around with his fork and just nodded.
“And it’s a real school I can find if I look it up on the computer?” Bobby asked.
Harry glanced up and forced himself to meet Bobby’s eyes as he lied and hoped to never have his bluff called.
“Yes,” he said.
The two of them stared at each for several seconds until the new tension in the room was broken by loud footsteps echoing down the staircase.
Harry was relieved to see it was Sam who entered the kitchen, sporting a similar hairstyle to Harry’s morning look. Sam yawned and then frowned at a silver phone in his hand.
“You know some chick named Ellen?” Sam asked, looking straight at Bobby as he shook the phone. “She left a voicemail on one of Dad’s burners, said she could help him.”
“Ellen? Not Ellen Harvelle?” Bobby asked, his attention entirely off Harry then. When Sam dropped down in one of the free chairs, Harry snagged him a plate of food from the counter.
A helpful relative wasn’t someone a person killed; it was a strategy that kept Harry alive all the times Uncle Vernon wanted to kill him.
“Thanks,” Sam said to Harry, flashing a brief grin, before going right back to talking with Bobby. “Who’s Ellen Harvelle?”
“Ellen runs the Roadhouse,” Bobby said. “It’s a place for hunters to meet up, swap info, and-” Bobby suddenly looked at Harry who only blinked at him.
“And- and talk about the best season for turkey,” Bobby finished in a way that made Harry think that wasn’t what he meant at all.
Which probably meant whoever Ellen was that she was another witch hunter.
Brilliant.
Harry stayed very quiet and still while Sam and Bobby talked in hopes that they would share anything else about hunters, but it was a pointless endeavor.
“You think it’s worth a drive out there?” Sam asked Bobby. “See if she knows anything that can help us?”
“I don’t reckon it could hurt anything,” Bobby shrugged. “Ellen’s a good sort and if she said she can help then she can.”
“Who’s helping who do what?”
Harry looked up when Dean walked in the kitchen. Dean didn’t seem to notice Harry at first as severely as he was glaring at Sam. Sam didn’t glare back, but he did roll his eyes. Harry would have gotten Dean a plate of food like he did Sam, but Dean snagged the plate of sausage himself and sat down with it.
“Ellen Harvelle runs a place in Nebraska, she left Dad a message saying she could help him,” Sam explained again. “I think it’s worth driving out there.”
“What’s the point? Nobody can help Dad now,” Dean said, muffled some by the food he chewed. “You know what I was thinking? Maybe we should head out to California, Sammy. You can see your college buddies, Harry and I can pick up chicks at the beach.” Dean grinned at Harry and waggled his eyebrows a moment. “You in, kid?”
“Dean, he’s fourteen.” Sam sighed.
Almost fourteen, Harry corrected him silently.
“So? Just because you were more interested in books than babes at his age doesn’t mean Harry wants to spend his summer in a library.”
“Dude, it was called homework.”
“It was called boring.”
Harry caught Bobby’s eyes across the table and he huffed a silent laugh when Bobby mouthed the word ‘idiots’ to him. Sam and Dean didn’t notice Bobby’s insult as they began arguing in earnest over their different plans.
“I think it’s worth checking out,” Sam told Dean firmly. “It’s a four hour drive and I want to know what Ellen knows.”
“Sam, no,” Dean snapped. “Whatever she does or doesn’t know isn’t going to change anything, got it? Just fucking drop it.”
“How can you say that?” Sam demanded hotly. “We have a responsibility here, Dean.”
Dean slapped his hand on the table, shaking the dishes and startling Harry.
“Our responsibility is to stay alive which isn’t going to happen if you don’t LET IT GO!” Dean yelled. “It’s done, Sam. Over. They’re gone and we can’t do jack about it except keep ourselves from joining.”
Sam looked geared up to begin yelling as well until Bobby quickly interrupted them.
“Harry, what d’you know about cars?” he asked. Sam and Dean seemed to only then recall that Harry was sitting there, a little confused and a lot nervous.
What did Harry know about cars?
“Nothing,” Harry answered truthfully. Harry knew the ones that flew were good to use as an escape route from murderous acromantula, but that was it.
“Great, let’s go.” Bobby stood up and Harry did as well after Sam jerked his chin in a short nod at him. “We’ll let these two finish up then Dean can show you how to paint a car.”
“Alright then…” Harry said slowly. Clearly Bobby was trying to give Sam and Dean privacy for their argument, but Harry wanted to hear more of it.
Seeing no options, he followed Bobby out the backdoor just as the boys resumed arguing. As the door closed, Harry heard Sam say something that included the name ‘Jessica’.
“Who’s Jessica?” Harry asked Bobby as they crossed from the back door to a large garage to the left of the house.
Bobby paused by the white door that opened in the garage and they both winced when they heard Dean shout something Harry couldn’t make out. It was during the brief pause that Harry noticed a red symbol painted on the door. It wasn’t anything Harry recognized, though he was sure that Hermione would if she were there.
“Jessica was Sam’s girl,” Bobby said. He opened the door and flipped on a light once Harry followed him in the garage. It was… surprisingly tidy. Considering the rest of the lot Bobby lived on, Harry didn’t expect the garage to be so neat. But all the tools were stacked up on carts and the car parts sitting outside of the pickup truck in the garage were laid on a tarp beside the truck.
“Was?” Harry asked him, crossing his fingers in his pocket that he wasn’t pushing his luck with questions. “What happened?”
“Mm, house fire,” Bobby said vaguely. “Sam’s pretty torn up about it still, poor kid.”
That was a clear dismissal on the subject, but Harry mused over it while Bobby grabbed a silver tool and began attacking the inside of the truck. Sam’s girlfriend died in a house fire like his mum did?
That was… odd.
Harry could feel a headache building when he thought about all the secrets everyone was keeping. Just when Harry thought it might be an actual weight off him to confess that he was a wizard, he thought of the people in the airplane and the nightmare from the night before.
No, Harry wouldn’t be sharing his magic and having his brothers hate him as much as the Dursleys did.
Bobby began talking aloud about the work he did as he did it, but Harry mostly nodded when it seemed appropriate while he mused over his options. If nobody sent Harry back too early, maybe Harry could pull off the rest of the summer getting to know his family. Then, when he went back to Hogwarts, maybe Hermione would have some ideas for him.
Hermione tended to have better ideas than Sirius did anyhow.
Just as Harry was amusing himself thinking of what Hermione would say —
“You have a family? Harry! How wonderful! What do you mean they hunt witches?! That’s a outdated and barbaric concept!”
— one of the large bay doors slid open. Harry scrambled to help Bobby move the car parts out of the way when it became clear that Dean planned to drive the grey car Harry saw that morning in the garage.
Dean climbed from the car window after he parked it in the garage and he waved a hand at the car with a proud smile.
“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Dean asked, looking directly at Harry. “I rebuilt her myself.”
It was a nice car. Harry knew more about broomsticks than he did cars, but the car reminded him of his Firebolt in the way that even motionless it looked fast.
“Yeah, yeah, she’s real pretty,” Bobby said, rolling his eyes. He leaned against the blue truck he had been working on and crossed his arms. “You two make a decision or what?”
“Sam’s going to Nebraska and when he gets back, we’re going to California,” Dean said nonchalantly. “I figure he’ll be back tonight and we can head out in the morning.”
Bobby snorted, amused by something.
“And what the hell d’you think you’ll do in California? Buy a damn house?” Bobby asked sarcastically.
Dean drew himself up tall and crossed his arms as he stared at Bobby evenly.
“Why not?” Dean asked him. “I heard real estate’s a good investment.”
Harry looked between Dean and Bobby and wondered what argument they were having with just the intense eye contact they held. Bobby broke it first and shook his head at Dean.
“Plenty of good colleges here,” Bobby said as he turned around and went right back to work. “No reason to go out to California.”
For whatever reason, Dean seemed relieved by that. He took a heavy breath and then gave Harry what seemed to be a genuine smile.
“Why don’t you go wash up and you can help me paint Baby,” Dean suggested, patting the car hood fondly. Harry looked at his hands and saw that he must have gotten grease or oil on them when he helped move the parts.
Harry took off in a quick jog toward the house and only slowed when he saw Sam walking out the front door with a bag slung over his shoulder.
It was impulsive, Harry probably should keep his head down and work on being likable and useful, but he couldn’t help himself. If Sam was going somewhere to get answers to his questions - a place for hunters which should be the last place Harry should be - Harry wanted to know more about what he was looking into.
“Hi.” Harry jogged right up to Sam and gave him his best smile. “Can I come with you?”