Last Time

He liked this part of having family, and it wasn't really conventional, having a bunch of hunters for family, but Harry had settled in rather quickly. He had known them now for two months, and they had honestly been the happiest two months of his life. Not even finding out that he was a wizard could trump finding out he actually had a family, and having them accept him in the way that the Winchesters had. He was still getting used to it, but he knew that they cared in their own way…as long as they never found out about his magic.

Chapter Twelve – Runic Revelations

Harry was stuck in a cabin in Oregon. He had been brought on a hunt that was deemed as 'low risk' by John and had been packed into his truck and driven twenty-five hours away to a damn forest.

Sam and Dean had arrived two hours after him and John, having stopped on the way to pick up food and water, and they were all crammed into the same small, two-bed cabin.

"Why am I on this awful couch when Harry is the smallest and probably wouldn't even notice it's not an actual bed?" Dean demanded.

"Because you're going out camping and I'm not. I get to stay here in the cabin, so I get a bed." Harry pointed out with a grin.

"You can have the floor if you want it." Sam offered Dean from where he was sitting in a sleeping bag.

Harry watched as the two of them started complaining about who had it worse.

"You wouldn't even fit on this couch, Sasquatch. Besides, my back is older than yours."

"By four years!" Sam stressed. "I'm taller than you."

"It's a few measly inches."

"Sometimes a few inches make all the difference."

"Oh, shut up." Dean waved off, throwing himself backwards on the couch.

"Are you girls done?" John demanded.

"I'm just saying Harry should be the one on the couch, not me!"

"Harry's on medication." John said sternly.

"He's on vitamins and nutrient shakes!" Dean grumbled.

Harry giggled as the argument carried on, spreading out on the big queen-sized bed he had to himself.

"You can share with me if you like." Harry offered.

"No thanks. I'd wake up to find you adhered to my chest like a little tick."

Harry laughed properly then. "Sam, how about you?"

Sam considered it, but he stood up. "This floor is the hardest floor I've ever slept on, I'm taking that offer. Here, Dean, in case you get cold on that couch by yourself."

Sam draped his sleeping bag over Dean and made his way to the bed by the wall. Harry scooted over to the wall, knowing that he would be boxed in and Sam climbed in with him.

"Can the three of you just go to sleep now?" John asked them. "We need to be gone by dawn."

Harry tried to give Sam some space, but it didn't last for more than five minutes, as he turned and snuggled into his brother, who chuckled in a whisper and wrapped Harry up tight, allowing him to attach to his chest. Harry fell asleep warm and comforted and feeling safe.

Harry was woken up the next morning, if it could even be called morning, to say goodbye to his family as they geared up to leave. The sun was only just cresting the horizon and Harry was still very tired.

"Harry, you remember the rules?" John asked seriously.

"Don't leave the cabin unless it's on fire and I'm in danger. Remember to eat and take my medicine. Don't answer the door or the phone. If you're gone for longer than a week, call Bobby."

John laid a hand in his hair and ruffled.

"We should only be a couple of days. Remember to keep checking the salt lines too. If any of them are broken, you fix it right away, you hear me?"

Harry nodded his agreement.

"See ya later, tiny." Dean told him.

"Don't get eaten by a bear."

"I'm too handsome to get eaten."

"I don't think that's how bears choose their food." Harry mused. "You're the shortest, and the slowest, so I think you'd be first choice for food."

Sam snorted and then stifled a laugh.

"I am not the slowest!" Dean declared. "I'm the fastest."

"Are you sure it's not Sam with those legs?" Harry asked, eyeing up Sam's very long legs.

"I'm not the slowest!" Dean insisted.

"No, I think that would be me." John said with a wry chuckle. "I'm not getting eaten either."

"I think the bear would know you're nothing but whiskey and old leather." Harry told him. "It'd go for Dean because of the carbs he eats."

The three men laughed and John shook his head.

"I won't let a bear take out your brothers."

Harry nodded and he waved them off as they went hiking through the forest after a possible wendigo. Either way, several campers had gone missing in the last few months and they were going to go check it out while Harry manned base camp…cabin? Was base cabin a thing?

Anyway, Harry was going to spend the next few days in this rustic little cabin, doing his school work and periodically calling Bobby to let him know that he was alright, that he was safe and he was eating and taking his medicine.

He had enough bottles of water and enough food to keep him comfortable, he had enough pills to last him a month, even though they weren't going to be here that long, and he had enough of the nutrient shakes too.

It was boring being by himself, but he was easily distracted with his school work as he took the chance to practice with his wand, knowing that he wouldn't get into trouble for it because the trace didn't work in America. He smiled to himself and mentally thanked Hermione for that little book on 'A Wizard's Guide to Holidaying in the Americas' which had happily informed him that the trace only worked in Great Britain, and any magic use in America couldn't be identified due to the wild, natural magic of the country. He was sure that that little bit of information was why Hermione had sent him this little book in the first place, especially after their chat about his magic attracting every creature within range of Harry's magic. This was Hermione's way of letting him know that he wouldn't get into trouble for using his magic to protect himself from these creatures. It was why Harry's Patronus Charm back in the hospital hadn't brought anyone down on his head and Harry was so glad that he had read that book and knew that no one could trace him here.

He smiled and he started practising his magic, following the instructions in the book, which even showed him moving diagrams of the hand movement he had to make in place of a teacher to show him. He missed Ron and Hermione, hell, at this point he was missing Neville, Seamus, Dean, and Hagrid too, but after what had happened during his last school year, he…he just couldn't go back. The guilt he felt for getting Cedric killed. The fear he went through every summer when he was forced back to the Dursleys. The horror he endured after yet another encounter with Voldemort. The cons outweighed the pros in his mind and now he had a chance to have a family…he wanted it. With all of his heart, he wanted this.

Albus Dumbledore sighed as yet another attempt to track down Harry fizzled out before his very eyes. He placed his wand down on the desk and raised a weary hand to rub even wearier eyes.

He had never expected Harry to rescind his place at Hogwarts. He had fully expected whatever tantrum the boy had been throwing to be ended by the time the first of September came about, but Harry hadn't gotten on the train in London. He had not arrived at Hogwarts via any other means. The Ministry were up in arms and Cornelius Fudge had already lambasted him for losing Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived. The Daily Prophet was running with several conspiracy theories and if that wasn't bad enough, Remus and Sirius were both on his case over it too.

He had gone to the Dursley residence himself and he had spoken to Petunia, but she had, unfortunately, been telling the truth. Harry had stormed out of the house one day in late June, she hadn't known where he'd gone, she hadn't cared, and he hadn't been back since. None of them knew where Harry had gone, or where he might go in such a situation.

His plans were being derailed and destroyed, even as he sat here waiting, trying to think of something, anything, to find Harry. Everything he'd thought of thus far hadn't worked, not a spell, not a potion, not even a few, rather illegal, curses. Harry was unplottable and impossible to find. Sometimes the wild magic of America was very frustrating.

Albus had half a mind to go to America himself, to leave the school to Minerva for a while, and try to track Harry down personally. It was a tempting thought, but America was just too vast a country to search. There was no guarantee that Harry was in one spot and if he was moving around then the boy could easily move to a spot he had already searched and they could keep missing one another. Even with the Order of the Phoenix, he didn't have the manpower to search the entire of America for one person.

Albus didn't know what to do, but he knew that he couldn't sit here and do nothing. He needed Harry for his plans, he had been setting everything up meticulously, and now everything was unravelling and he felt that there was nothing he could do. He needed to regain control, and Harry needed to be found sooner rather than later…before any more damage was done.

There was nothing for it. Not now. He would have to go to America and try to search for Harry himself.

Albus stood from his desk and he went to the fireplace, throwing in a handful of floo powder, turning the flames emerald green.

"Minerva, could you come through to my office for a moment, please?" He asked calmly.

He went back to his desk and sat back down, feeling heavy and old. Minerva stepped through the fireplace a moment later and brushed the soot from her robes.

"What is this about, Albus? Have you found Potter?" She asked.

He shook his head. "No, not yet. That is why I wanted to talk to you. I will be away from the school for a while. I need to find him."

"Remus and Sirius confirmed that he is with his family in America. I looked into the educational records myself, Albus, and Potter has filed to be home-schooled. He has already received his books and supplies. Wherever he is, he's prepared to stay there."

Albus nodded, he knew all of this, but he hadn't told her why he needed Harry back so urgently, he hadn't told her about the path that he needed Harry to walk.

"He isn't safe there, Minerva."

"You don't need to tell me that, I know. I'm merely pointing out that Potter is prepared to stay exactly where he is. What do you plan to do, to say to him, when you find him? Albus, you know the poor boy has always wanted a family."

"He has a family."

Minerva gave him a stern look. "You know he doesn't love those Dursleys. I warned you that they're the worst sort of muggles when you first left him with them. He's not going to come back willingly, Albus."

Albus felt himself sag where he sat. He was going to have to guilt Harry into coming back, and if that still failed then he would have to force Harry to come back, and perhaps alter the memories of his muggle family too.

Harry would need to be kept in Britain after that, away from his original surrogate family. Harry had a purpose to fulfil, and he was the only one who could do it. It had to be Harry and it did break Albus' heart to put the boy through everything that he was, manoeuvring him through his plans, but if there was any other way, he would do it. There wasn't, he knew there wasn't. This was the only way and it had to be Harry.

"I will find him, Minerva, and I will speak to him. He isn't safe. By now Voldemort will know that Harry isn't at Hogwarts and he will start looking for him, if he hasn't already. You know what will happen if Voldemort or the Death Eaters find Harry before we do."

Minerva nodded. "Try to be gentle, Albus, Potter is just a boy."

Albus nodded, even though he was already preparing to alter memories and drag Harry back to Britain and then use a tethering charm to keep him here. Perhaps he should have done that to begin with, but he hadn't thought of it, he would never have believed Harry would run off as he had…hindsight was rather frustrating.

First things first, however, he needed to locate Harry, and quickly.

Harry was stuck in the truck with John for the drive home and they'd lost Dean and Sam, who were ahead of them somewhere. He hadn't seen them in two days because of how long the drive was, but John was surprisingly keeping Harry entertained by telling him about everything they hunted, and how to kill it, then quizzing Harry for information retention.

"What can silver be used to kill?" John asked him even as he watched the road.

"Werewolves and shapeshifters." Harry answered, knowing there were bound to be more, but those were the two that John had started him off with.

"Good. How do you kill a vampire?"

"Decapitation."

"You really do soak everything up like a sponge, don't you?"

Harry nodded, though he didn't say that he had hyper-focused on John's words and memorised them so he didn't fail this little quiz and disappoint the man. He had used the same technique at the Dursleys, to remember the impossibly long list of verbal chores he'd have to do each day during the summer.

He had forced himself to memorise everything John had told him. It wasn't so bad though, at least Harry was getting a head start into becoming a hunter researcher like Bobby and John was visibly pleased that Harry was taking in the information so well, which helped Harry to relax a little more. He was doing good.

The two of them had just arrived back at Bobby's, a few hours after Dean and Sam, and Harry was thankful that the wendigo hunt had actually gone smoothly. Harry hadn't been hurt, his family hadn't been overly injured and nothing untoward had happened. They had come back after a few days, as planned, to find Harry perfectly safe and happy in the cabin, completely undisturbed by anything or anyone.

It had relaxed something within them all, that a hunt had gone well and Harry hadn't been hurt or targeted by something unrelated to the wendigo, or the wendigo itself.

"Harry, how are ya, kid?" Bobby asked him, giving him a hug.

"Fine. I missed you, Bobby." Harry said hugging back tight.

"Alright, enough of this chick-flick crap." Dean complained, so uncomfortable with affection that he couldn't even watch others embracing.

"You're so repressed." Harry teased, moving to hug his brother, who groaned and tried to unlatch Harry's arms without hurting him…so he wasn't trying very hard.

"Harry, let go you little limpet."

"No, I like it, and you need it. I haven't seen you in two days."

Sam laughed as he passed them.

"God, Harry. Let go." Dean complained.

Harry snuggled in tighter. "You're repressed, I'm helping."

Dean rolled his eyes, but stopped fighting and sunk into the cuddle. He ruffled Harry's hair when his brother finally let go and gave that adorable crooked grin of his, before darting back off outside to check on his birds.

"Dude, you are completely wrapped around his finger." Sam told him.

"Don't pretend like you're not." Dean answered. "Poor kid needs it. He needs us."

"So nothing went wrong?" Bobby asked, sounding almost anxious.

"No, for once everything went smoothly. Even I'm surprised." Dean answered.

"…put them down and don't go over that boundary line!" John shouted out, presumably at Harry, as he entered the house.

John took the flask of holy water and knocked a bit back before handing it to Bobby.

"That boy is gonna be the death of me, I swear." John sighed.

"What's he doing this time?" Dean asked.

"Letting wasps crawl on his bare skin."

"I told him not to do that!" Dean groaned, moving outside to tell Harry to put the wasps down, as John had, but they all knew that Harry wouldn't listen and he wouldn't put the wasps down.

"He seems more settled." Bobby commented.

"Yeah?" Sam asked.

Bobby nodded. "He just seems more comfortable with you three."

"It must be because we're slowly proving we're not like his other family." Sam said musingly.

"You found anything more on those therapy websites?" John asked, sitting down wearily.

"Only that we need to be patient. Not any of our strong suits, but it's what he needs. He needs the time to get comfortable with us without fear. He really needs therapy, Dad."

John sighed, and nodded. "I'll look into it."

"Those books he has too, they're unlike anything I've ever come across before." Bobby told them. "There are more ways to exorcise demons in them books than all my books put together."

"Anything on killing them?" John asked.

"Yeah, apparently a series of very old blades. Hit a demon's vessel with one and the demon dies too."

"Any chance the books have a description of these knives? Or where to find them?"

"Think our luck was gonna go that far, huh?" Bobby asked. "If it has then it's nothing I can read."

"Could Harry read it?" Sam asked curiously.

"Not unless he can somehow make sense of these symbols." Bobby said tiredly, grabbing a book and turning it to show a vertical line of symbols. "I have no idea what they are, or what language it's from. I'll keep searching and digging, gonna take a picture and send them to Ash, but…" Bobby trailed off and shook his head.

"So there are other artefacts out there that can kill demons, not just the Colt?"

"Looks like it, but good luck getting your hands on any of them." Bobby said, sitting back down. "These books are damn old, Winchester. Ancient even. This is a three hundredth edition according to the publishing information on the front, and I can't find any information on the internet about the publishing house. It doesn't exist."

"So where did Harry get it from?" Sam mused.

"Or his little friend for that matter." Bobby added. "It's all strange. Too damn strange."

"You think demons are trying to put him with us to keep us distracted?" John asked.

"These books also contain a lot of information about angels." Bobby said pointedly. "Harry was right, they can bend time and reality to make poor schmucks like us think anything."

"Are you saying that Harry isn't real?" Sam demanded angrily.

"No, I'm saying that maybe these books were placed in Harry's path on purpose." Bobby said. "Some of these books don't even have publisher information in them, so if that's the case, who published it, what shop was selling them, and how did Harry get his hands on them?"

"So you think the angels are using Harry to get information on killing demons to us?"

"Makes more sense than a poor kid finding this stuff by himself." Bobby shrugged.

"And his insistence that only angels can kill angels." Sam said. "Obviously they don't want us killing them off, or even trying, so they're making it out to be impossible."

"Anything in those books about keeping angels away? I don't want them messing with Harry." John said protectively.

"Not yet, so divvy up and get reading." Bobby said, shoving a large pile of books at them both.

Sam took the top book and immediately cracked it open. If these books really were heaven sent then he wanted to read all of them, and quickly.

Things had been very quiet. All four men were reading almost constantly from the books that Harry had gotten from Hermione and this actually gave Harry some time to himself to do his school work and practice his spell casting, which was useful.

He had to be very careful while doing it in the house though, he did not want to be caught doing magic.

Sometimes he joined them downstairs reading, listening to all their brainstorming sessions. He was even getting more comfortable about joining in and offering up his own thoughts sometimes. They never made him feel stupid, or like a little kid.

"Harry, dinner!" Dean yelled up the stairs and Harry quickly packed up all of his schoolwork and headed down.

"I cannot make any sense of these sigils!" Bobby raged as Harry entered the kitchen.

"There has to be some translation to them." John sighed, sounding just as frustrated.

"If there is I have no clue."

Harry could feel the stress and the tension in the room, as the table was spread over with books, and Dean was trying to hand out Styrofoam containers of food.

"Harry, here." Dean said, sitting Harry in the only space at the table, where his food was actually laid out ready for him, it made him smile.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked curiously, looking at them all.

"Nothing for you to worry about." John told him gruffly, scrubbing a hand over the scruff on his face.

"Just some issues trying to find a translation for these damn sigils." Bobby said, slamming the book down and taking the food balanced on a stack of books beside him.

Harry caught sight of the 'sigils' and he snorted.

"Might be because those aren't sigils, they're runes." Harry told them.

"What's the difference?" Bobby asked grumpily.

"Sigils are ritual symbols, runes are a form of ancient alphabet, they make words."

John grabbed the book and handed it over to him.

"Can you translate those?"

Harry regretted not taking ancient runes as he squinted at the runes, recognising a few of them from when Hermione would do homework next to him. He sighed.

"Leave it with me." He said.

He was going to have to send an owl to Hermione and see if she could translate them for him…knowing his luck though, she would send him back a letter declaring he should have taken runes instead of wasting time on divination, and giving him an introductory guide to runes for him to learn by himself.

He ate his food while reading a bit of background information on the runes. It seemed they were present on every demon knife that had ever been made. It wasn't a wonder that his family were desperate to know what the runes meant, and how to carve them.

"Here, down this." Dean told him, handing over his nutrient shake after he'd eaten.

"Thank you." Harry said, smiling up at Dean, who just ruffled his hair and left Harry to drink it down.

"You took all of your pills today?" Bobby asked him.

Harry nodded, even as he drank the nutrient shake. Bobby stood and marked it on the sheet stuck to the fridge door.

Harry kept the book with him, still reading, and he took it to the library and sat on the floor by the coffee table, where he'd left one of his notebooks. He copied the runes down meticulously, to add to a letter to send to Hermione. He started trying to translate the ones he had seen before, but it was the unknown runes that would give him the most trouble.

"So you know runes, how?" Dean asked him.

"School." Harry said.

"They actually teach you these things in school? Really?"

Harry looked up at the sceptical tone. He realised then how unusual it sounded and he tensed a little. He was already stressed hiding his magic, and all his magic books, trying to hide the fact that he only had the most basic, rudimentary knowledge on normal muggle subjects such as maths and science, and trying to avoid the continuous offers of help with his school work. Of course, a bunch of hunters would get suspicious over that.

Dean immediately stood back from him and held up his arms as if in surrender.

"I'm sorry." His brother said quietly. "Harry, I'm just frustrated, I wouldn't hurt you."

Unless he found out about magic, Harry supplied in his head and he ducked his head and curled up a little.

Dean hunched down in front of him, not reaching out, but he ducked his head to try and get eye contact.

"Hey, I'm sorry." He said again and Harry nodded quickly. "No, Harry, look at me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay." Harry said quietly. "Boarding schools are just really different to regular schools. They even had seven greenhouses and we had lessons in there about different plants and herbs."

"So they actually taught you gardening?" Dean asked, probably trying to make a joke, but Harry just nodded.

He reached into his bag and pulled out a Herbology book.

"Herbology?" Dean asked, taking the book and flipping through it a little, seeing different pages on plants and fungi.

"It's a core subject."

"But, what is this even useful for? Shouldn't you be learning Math, English, and Science? Instead, you seem to be learning a bunch of random, obscure crap."

"Dean!" Sam snapped angrily from the doorway.

Harry flinched at the loud tone and both of them noticed.

"Ignore him, Harry. He doesn't understand the value of education." Sam told him, but he was staring at Dean.

"I'm just saying he seems to be learning all the wrong stuff."

"He's learning what he's meant to! His school sent those books to him." Sam hissed.

Harry tried to curl up out of their way as they started arguing over him.

"I'm just saying that it's not normal. These subjects aren't normal."

"You barely went to school, Dean. How would you know what's normal in a British boarding school?"

"What are you boys shouting about?" John demanded.

He looked at Dean and Sam, stood over Harry, arguing over him, and then to Harry who was pretty much cowering on the floor.

"Outside, now!" He ordered, wading in between them, shoving them back, and gently pulling Harry up to his feet and moving him away from the two arguing brothers, who at least had the grace to look regretful and ashamed.

Harry curled into John, who was holding him tight, keeping a hand to the back of his head to keep his face averted from Sam and Dean.

"What have you idjits done this time?" Bobby demanded. "Harry, you okay, kid?"

Harry nodded quickly.

"Outside. I'm not going to ask again." John told them, despite that he hadn't technically asked the first time. Both times had been orders.

Harry was moved then and John sat on the settee and sat Harry next to him.

"They hurt you?" John asked.

"No." Harry said. "They were just arguing."

"What about this time?" Bobby asked.

"My school subjects."

Harry could almost feel the confused looks being exchanged over his head.

"Why?" Bobby asked.

"Dean doesn't think they're real subjects. He thinks I should be learning maths and science and stuff."

"And you're not?" Bobby asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not really. I've picked several specialist subjects that I wanted to learn about, like Care of Creatures. I want to be a vet, so…so I've picked subjects that will help me with that in the future. Why would I need to take science or English or anything like that? My teachers know what I want to be, and they're giving me career advice, and pushing me to the subjects that will actually help me achieve what I want."

"Privilege of a boarding school, huh?" Bobby asked.

Harry nodded. "Pretty much."

"Right, you ignore anything those two have said." John told him. "I'll go have them running laps like when they were kids. Whatever your teachers have sent you, you do that work, got it?"

Harry nodded, feeling a little more reassured.

John clapped Harry on the shoulder and eased himself to his feet. He marched out of the house and Harry heard him bellowing at Sam and Dean and he was worried that this would cause tension between him and his brothers. He didn't want them to dislike him.

"Don't go overthinking this." Bobby told him. "Your daddy will have them running laps and sweating up a storm and they'll be too tired to argue, and so chastened they'll be falling over themselves to say sorry."

"Those people used to call me a freak." Harry said softly, almost to himself, after a long pause of silence. "I try so hard to be normal. I don't like being called abnormal."

"You're not abnormal!" Bobby said angrily. "You're not a freak, Harry. Don't go thinking such things about yourself."

Harry looked up, his lower lip trembling as he tried to prevent himself from crying.

"I just want people to like me."

"We do like you, as you are. We went through this before."

Harry nodded and tried to force himself to believe that.

"I know my school is weird and that my career aspirations are weird…maybe too weird."

"Harry, don't make us go through this again." Bobby growled. "Being a vet isn't weird and hundreds of other children go to that school with you, it's not weird."

If only Bobby knew it was a school for magic users, maybe he'd have a different opinion.

"Listen to me, Harry." Bobby said. "I've been around the block a dozen damn times. I've seen just about all there is to see, believe me when I tell you you're not weird to us no matter what those people you lived with before said to you. We deal with demons, vampires, nightmares that come calling in the night, most others would call that weird too, but it ain't to us."

Harry managed a small smile. "Thank you, Bobby."

"Any time, kid." Bobby said, looking old and tired. "Those brothers of yours are damn idiots. They don't know normal either, so don't let them tell you otherwise. They were pulled in and out of schools, lived in motels all over the country and saw things no kid should ever have to see. They're not normal."

"I tried so hard, Bobby. I want them to like me. No one ever likes me for me."

"I do." The gruff old man insisted firmly. "There's nothing you can tell me that will change my mind."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." Harry said sadly.

"Harry, look at me. You're family now, you understand? Family don't give up on family. Not ever."

A tear slid down Harry's cheek and he moved to give Bobby a hug.

"Thank you, Bobby."

Bobby sighed heavily. "Go outside and give your brothers a bit of hell, they deserve it. See if you can't find some wasps to throw on them."

That made Harry smile and he wiped his face a little. "Prank war take two?" He chuckled.

"Yeah, only those two won't dare retaliate."

Harry nodded and went to go stand on the front porch. Sam and Dean were actually running laps around the scrap yard.

"If they're not sorry by now, they will be by the time I'm through with them." John promised him, looking over from where he was sitting in a chair cleaning a shotgun.

"Will they dislike me for this?"

John snorted a laugh. "Nah. If anything they're cursing me, though they'll be damn sorry if I hear them."

Harry managed a tentative smile and he sat next to John, eyeing up the shotgun curiously.

"Wanna hold it?" John asked, noticing where he was looking.

"It's not loaded?"

"No, not while I'm cleaning it."

"I'm a bit leery of…of this." He waved a hand to encompass the other weapons carefully placed on the small table.

"I know. I ain't pushing."

Harry licked his lips and nodded his head.

John handed the gun over and Harry was surprised by the weight.

"It's heavy."

John nodded and he carefully moved Harry's hands to hold it properly.

"Stand in the stance I showed you before." John told him, standing and helping him, moving his feet with his own. "You wanna hold this carefully."

"I think it's too big for me." Harry said with a self-deprecating smile.

"We'll make sure you get healthy and grow. Let's try something smaller for now."

John took the shotgun from him and picked up a handgun instead.

"This isn't loaded either. Don't want you shooting your brothers on accident."

Harry snorted and he curled his one hand around the grip and allowed John to correct his stance and hold it up properly.

"Always keep both eyes open, this ain't a movie, you don't want to skew your own perception." John told him. "Look dead centre of what you want to hit, then pull the trigger."

"Can I try it?"

John looked pleased for all of a moment, then he seemed to realise that something was up. He got that suspicious look on his face.

"You only saying that because of the argument with those two?" He asked, nodding his head to where Sam and Dean were running, they had turned it into a competition by the looks of things, as Dean, who was ahead, turned to run backwards, shouting out to Sam that he was 'too slow'.

"Not just that." Harry said, though that was the biggest part of it. "I just…with these things out there, I want to be able to protect myself too."

He didn't say that he'd been warming to the idea since Hermione had told him that these creatures were always going to target him because of his magic. If he couldn't use magic to get the creatures away from him, either because he didn't know how or because he was around his family, then he wanted to be able to shoot the damn things.

John stared at him a moment, looking far too serious, before he nodded and stood, coming to Harry and pushing him off the porch, facing a piece of absolute junk that no longer looked like a car. He took the unloaded gun from him and handed him a piece he took from his waistband.

"We'll use this as a target." He explained, nodding to the car.

"Shouldn't we ask Bobby first?" Harry asked.

John just smirked at him. "I'll take the rap for it. Now, I'm gonna hold your hands, to stop the recoil from breaking your nose."

Harry blinked in surprise at hearing that. "Okay." He agreed with a worried frown.

John stood right behind him, shoving Harry's feet back into stance, before cupping his hands.

"I'm gonna let you aim. Show me what you got."

"Just pull the trigger?" Harry asked cautiously.

"When you're ready." John agreed.

Harry lined up his shot and tried to calm his racing heart, then he squeezed his finger hard and sharp. The noise was startling, the recoil, even with John holding his hands, almost jarred his wrists.

He was breathing hard, trying to work through what he was feeling, even as John laughed.

"Good job, Harry." He praised.

Of course Sam and Dean came running at the gunshot and Dean looked fit to burst. Sam just looked angry.

"You said you weren't going to push him." Sam hissed angrily.

"Did I tell either of you to stop running laps?" John demanded, ignoring what Sam had said and still holding Harry in place.

"Harry, you okay?" Dean asked, looking at him hard, consideringly.

"Fine. I hit dead centre, Dean, look!"

Dean actually did look and he nodded. "You're a natural. I was when I first picked up a gun. I thought you didn't want to touch guns?"

"I didn't, before." Harry said softly. "Then…then the Shtriga happened. I know you said that guns wouldn't have killed it, but it might have frightened it off or someone might have heard and come in. I don't want to be in that position again, so…so I changed my mind."

"If that's what you want, we'll help you." Dean assured him.

"You still want to be a researcher?" Sam asked him. "You don't want to be a hunter, right?"

Harry nodded. "I couldn't do what you do." He admitted. "I want to be a researcher like Bobby, but I also want to know how to protect myself too."

Sam eased down a little then and he seemed less angry about Harry picking up and firing a gun.

"Come here, try again." John said, interrupting the silent staring contest between them all.

Harry assumed the stance he'd been taught, and John cupped his hands again. Harry aimed, then squeezed the trigger, hitting very close to where he'd hit the last time.

"You are a natural." John praised.

"I always had good hand-eye coordination." He said, his mind going immediately to Quidditch and how he was able to hunt down the snitch very easily.

"That'll be a big help." John told him.

Harry tried shooting for a little longer, but it was getting dark and he was soon chided to wash up for bed.

Harry took a shower instead of just washing up. He combed the tangles from his hair and brushed his teeth, tugging on his pyjamas. He wasn't overly fussed about guns, but he was coming around to the idea that, however much he didn't like them, he was going to need to know how to use them.

He had been introduced to a rather violent world, one where all the bad, evil creatures would be gunning for him because of his magic. He needed to know how to protect himself from them and if that meant learning the skills of his family and picking up a gun, then he'd do it because he wanted to stay with them.

"We're watching a movie, Harry." Dean told him as he came back down in his pyjamas.

"Which one?" Harry asked.

"It's a movie me and Sammy loved as kids called The Blob."

Harry laughed at that, even as he hurried into the living room and shoved Sam over so that he could claim the seat between him and Dean.

"Is it in black and white?" Harry asked cheekily, as he settled down on the settee.

"We're not that old." Sam teased him back.

"This is a nineteen-eighty-eight classic, Harry. Watch and learn." Dean told him.

"Can I join you boys?" John asked.

"Sure." Dean said, nodding easily to the armchair.

Bobby joined them too. He didn't ask, this was his house and he could do as he pleased, but none of them minded.

Harry had already brushed his teeth, so he took a bottle of water, not coke, and he didn't touch the snacks. He lounged between his brothers and just watched the rather ridiculous film, laughing at the parts that were meant to be 'scary'.

His bedtime came and went, and Dean put another old, apparently 'scary' film on, but Harry was laughing even more through Nosferatu.

"I'll have you know that people were terrified of this when it first came out." Dean told him, as Harry giggled next to him.

"Why?" Harry demanded, giggling some more. "If I didn't know any better, I'd have said this was a comedy."

"This is a very serious movie, Harry." Dean tried to say, which only elicited more giggling from Harry.

He tried to make it through the entire film, but he was too tired and he ended up falling asleep on Sam.

"Is he gone?" Dean asked, standing and stretching.

Sam gently checked Harry and he nodded.

"Yeah, he's fast asleep. He can never get much past midnight."

"Give him here." John said, standing and stretching himself. "I'll take him up."

Sam pulled Harry's arms gently from around his waist and allowed John to carefully pick him up. Harry mumbled a little in his sleep, but he turned to snuggle into John's chest as he was carried to bed.

John took the stairs one at a time, opened the bedroom door with his elbow, and carefully eased his son into his bed, shushing him as he started a little.

"You're safe, Harry. You're in your bed." John told him, tucking him in.

"Not tired." The boy mumbled, still asleep, and John grinned.

"You're already asleep." John told him, smoothing the blankets over him.

"Not."

John checked, but Harry was definitely asleep. He pushed a hand through Harry's hair, easing him back to sleep. Only he could have a son who argued with him even when he was asleep.

He said nothing else, and Harry didn't say anything else. John watched him for a bit, making sure he was settled, before he went to check the salt lines around the open window.

Pleased that they were unbroken and undisturbed, he headed back out of the bedroom and back downstairs.

"Do we have any more hunts?" Dean asked him, sharpening a knife.

"Nothing that's a priority." John answered. "We could find one if we looked, but I want to stay close to Harry for a while."

"To teach him to shoot?" Sam asked, sounding calm, but he wasn't happy, John could tell immediately.

"He wants to learn, Sammy. That Shtriga terrified him, and yeah, it's on me because of how I handled it, but if learning to shoot will make him feel safer, I'll teach him."

"We're going to get him back into hand-to-hand." Dean said firmly. "If you teach him guns and knives, Sammy and I can handle physical combat."

"It's not a bad thing, him knowing his way around the weapons we use." Bobby said. "We can try to keep him safer, keep him protected, but if he does get targeted, or left on his own again like with that Shtriga, maybe having a weapon to hand would make him feel safer and more secure."

"He's used to dealing with everything on his own, so maybe having a weapon to hand would make him feel better." Sam relented.

"Was that on your therapy sites too? Give the kid a weapon?" Dean teased.

Sam snorted. "Not likely. No, but Harry's been independent for years. He's coming to trust us, but he's not going to lean on us or rely on us for anything. He'll try to do it himself first. So, if he has a weapon, he'll try to use it. It'll be better if he can pick up a weapon and know how to use it, rather than struggle through trying to use it and maybe get hurt."

"We can do that." Dean insisted.

"Will he ever allow us to look after him?" Bobby asked.

"He will. He already is to an extent, more than I think anyone else ever has." Sam said with a shrug. "But he is used to looking after himself, so for now, we need to teach him how to protect himself, and then get him used to us looking after him. He's doing really well and he fits right in."

"Because he's ours." Dean nodded.

Sam shook his head. "He might be a Winchester by blood, but he's not like us. There's no way he could possibly be like us, he wasn't raised like we were. He's softer, kinder. Despite that he was abused, he's better than all of us. But he does know about the things in the dark. He understands why we hunt, that's better than we could have asked for when he first came into our lives."

"Those books he has are heaven-sent." Bobby cut in. "Whether by angels, or just a stroke of pure luck, those books are game changers for us, and all hunters."

"If we can figure out those sigils." Dean added.

"Harry called them runes. He said there was a difference." John spoke up. "Can we buy books on runes?"

Bobby rubbed at his head. "I'll see what I can dredge up, but Harry swore he could translate them."

"I don't wanna put too much on him, Bobby. He's fifteen, if he makes a mistake…I don't want that to be all on him." John replied.

"Course. I'll see what I can lay my hands on." Bobby said, nodding.

"I'll see if we can't find some simple salt an' burns to take Harry on." John told Sam and Dean. "If I start him out simple like I did you two…" He trailed off and shook his head. "He's already had a rough introduction to hunting. That thing that targeted him in Iowa, then the damn Shtriga right here in Sioux Falls. Those are not the sorts of monsters I would have used to ease him into hunting."

"Couldn't have gotten him a simple ghost." Dean snorted, shaking his head.

"Exactly. His next hunt, I want a simple salt an' burn, and it needs to go off perfectly, without him getting hurt."

"Can't always control that part, Winchester." Bobby put in.

John shook his head. "It has to be. I won't have Harry being injured on another hunt."

"Are you sure we should be taking him on a proper hunt and not just leaving him in the motel room? Dad, he's only fifteen." Dean worried.

"I just want him to have an easy hunt, something that's not a damn Shtriga." John admitted. "It doesn't seem to matter if we leave him in the motel or not."

"That's not true. He was completely fine in Oregon when we took on that wendigo." Sam pointed out.

"You could ask him if he wanted to do a salt an' burn." Bobby pointed out. "Don't just decide for him, ask him."

"That might be a better way to go. He might not feel ready yet." Dean agreed.

"We'll ask him. If he does want to do it, we'll take the salt an' burns. If he doesn't want to hunt properly yet, we'll pick something more suited to us and leave him in the motel room and hope that nothing happens to him there like it did in Iowa."

John wondered if Harry would want to go on a hunt. He was young, but he'd been targeted twice already, he was pretty much a hunter already, he just needed to be trained how to deal with these monsters so that he wasn't always hurt or terrified.

If Harry didn't want to go hunting, then they would give him more lessons in self-defence, in shooting, and how to handle knives. They would try to give him all the tools he needed to look after himself now that he was becoming a true Winchester.

A/N: A little bit of a filler chapter, but I wanted to show that not every hunt Harry goes on will be a complete disaster. This will change in the next chapter as Harry gets back into the supernatural world and becomes the target of a vengeful ghost…John will come to regret his decision to go on 'simple' salt and burns, as there is no such thing as a simple hunt with Harry involved, but Harry is starting to learn to protect himself, he's learning about the creatures, and now he's given the Winchesters the key to runic demon knives (like Ruby's knife).

Just a little note before I go, the Wendigo didn't target Harry only because he was too far away for his magic to be sensed, if he had been taken on that hunt, or been further into the forest, then he would have been a target.

StarLight Massacre. X