So hey, I had a lot of awesome feedback for my oneshot where Harry's God's brother, so I decided to write something with a few chapters. Hope you like the first one. I already have three more lined up. XD Enjoy!
When the war had ended in Wizarding Britain, chaos was unleashed. After several years of living in an oppressed state; wondering when the next attack might come, constantly having to look over one's shoulder, it was understandable that the magical government and the subjects of said government were in utter anarchy.
The only person who had been brave enough to take up the position of temporary Minister of Magic had been Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had taken it upon himself, to completely destroy the foundations of the magical government and then rebuild it anew.
At his side, stood undersecretary Hermione Granger (soon to be Weasley), who spearheaded their campaigns and continued to advocate equal rights for magical creatures of all kind. And at her side, stood the proud soon-to-be Head Auror, Ronald Weasley.
This was, as the press liked to call it, the 'Dream Team'. The perfect match of people to reconstruct Magical Britain and modernise it. The tabloids had over the years, decided to ignore the recluse Harry Potter, who had saved them all from the instigator - the self-named terrorist Voldemort - of the oppression that had reigned over Britain during the war.
Every now and then, rumours were snatched up by the Daily Telegraph and printed somewhere on page twenty-four. Every now and again, people would claim to have seen Harry Potter in Diagon Alley; or in Hogsmead. Some even dared to say that he had moved back into Godric's Hollow. The place at which events had happened on the 31st of October that made Harry Potter famous in the first place.
Said man was currently sitting in his dining room in Grimmauld Place. In his hand he held a spread out newspaper, which partly rested over his crossed legs. His other hand held the plastic stick of his lollypop, the tip of which had been enclosed by his lips. The only thing on the pompous dining table was a steaming cup of tea which a House Elf - Kreacher - had brought up.
Absently, Harry picked up his cup of tea and took a sip, while glaring at the newspaper article that had been recently written about him. By now, he had become used to the slander and gossip that was constantly being printed in the news, but that didn't make the falsehoods any less annoying to read. According to this last article, Harry was planning to initiate an expedition to the North Pole to investigate whether that was really the origin of magic. And apparently, he was going to take the Sub-Seeker of the Holyhead Harpies - Ginevra Weasley - with him.
Snorting, Harry put the newspaper down; and as soon as he did so, a bowl with oatmeal and fruits appeared in front of him. Silently, to himself, Harry thanked Kreacher and dug in, absently thinking about his appointment with the Family Department of the Magical War Office.
The moment Harry stepped out of the fireplace in the Ministry of Magic main hall, he felt as though a thousand eyes had turned upon him. Gently straightening his wizard robes (which he personally found really uncomfortable), Harry walked to the Security Desk standing right next to the lifts.
"Good afternoon, Mr Munch," Harry said silently, aware that behind him everyone had gone into a flurry of excitement and movement. Munch observed him for a moment, eyes wide as he took him in. The last time he had seen Harry was when said boy - now man - had been tried in front of the Wizengamot. Harry for his part had grown taller (well, a little), and had filled out a little. He was still scrawny and small, but at least now people referred to him as Mr or sir, and not as 'little boy'. His hair had become lighter and his eyes more intense, albeit tired; his facial features more defined and sharper. *1(A/N)
"Your wand, Mr Potter?"
Harry winked at him, "Didn't know you swung that way, Eric."
Munch gaped at him for a moment, before he blushed and took the wand that Harry passed over to him; his holly wand. The Elder Wand now lay where it belonged; in Dumbledore's grave. Examining it, and weighing it, he sighed and muttered that everything was in order. With a cheerful nod, Harry took a lift to the six and a half floor: The War Office.
Apparently news travelled fast, because when the doors opened, a woman was standing there, seemingly expecting him; she didn't bat an eyelash when Harry stepped forwards and greeted him politely. "Mr Grant is expecting you, sir. Right this way."
They meandered down several corridors, and finally reached a simple door with a plaque that read 'Connor Grant'. Harry nodded in thanks and knocked on the door. He was greeted openly by Mr Grant, who proceeded to sit him down and offer him a glass of Sherry, which Harry declined.
"So, Mr Potter," Said the rounded man, red cheeks puffing out, as he smiled excitedly at him. The greying hair at his temples was slicked back, nevertheless, he ran a hand against it to flatten it. "I understand you are searching for family members that might have been involved in the last war?"
Harry shrugged, "Well, any family members would be nice. I grew up an orphan, you know."
Of course he knows, Harry berated himself. The man smiled sadly, and clapped his hands together. "No child should grow up without his parents," He said and pointed towards a picture on his desk depicting a family of four; a thin blonde woman, two straw-haired children and himself, "Should we get on, then?!"
Harry smiled at the picture, nodding along, agreeing completely with the man's philosophy.
"Well, then, it's a simple matter really. It's only a spell, you know. But I need a drop of your blood," Seeing Harry was about to say something to that, the man quickly continued, "Don't worry Mr Potter, we take our client confidentiality very seriously. Your blood will instantly be banished, and the single copy of the results will be yours to keep. Deal?"
Harry nodded once. The man cheerfully bounced up and down on his chair and grabbed an official looking piece of parchment. He tapped on two fields and then on a third one. "Sign here, and here and smear a little bit of blood on here. The enchanted parchment will do the rest of the work, ok Mr Potter?"
"Great. Thanks." Quickly, Harry did what was required of him and leaned backwards in his chair. "And now we wait?" He asked after a moment. The man nodded cheerfully (and Harry was suddenly reminded very strongly of Horace Slughorn), "And now we wait," he confirmed.
Several minutes were spent in silence and Harry let his eyes wander around the room, looking for any sort of entertainment. "Mr Potter! Mr Potter! It's happening!"
Instantly, Harry's eyes zeroed on the parchment; the previous text had disappeared and instead an invisible quill had started writing the words 'Harry James Potter' in an elaborate, cursive handwriting. And underneath his name the names of his grandparents appeared, and their parents' names, Harry's parents, and so on. "Names of dead people will appear in black, and those alive will be in red," the man explained, gazing at the quickly evolving family tree. Clearly searching for something to say he said: "It's a beautiful family tree!"
Harry pursed his lips. All he saw was a shitload of black; "All I see is a lot of dead."
The man cleared his throat uncomfortably, before exclaiming out loud when the parchment revealed two names in red. One was Draco Malfoy and the other was someone named Chuck Shurley. Harry raised an eyebrow and glanced up at Connor Grant, "Chuck Shurley? Does this thing show you how he's related to me?"
Mr Grant leaned back into his chair and nodded, "Just tap the name, and all the details will appear." Harry did so, and moments later gasped in surprise when the details webbed out - a line connected itself to James Potter and a woman named 'Eve Shurley' and underneath, Chuck Shurley's name and his age appeared. *2(A/N)
29 Years old
Relation to H.J.P. - Half-Brother
Son of James Potter and Eve Shurley
And under that; an address.
Harry's mouth was dry as he stared a the text that had appeared in front of him. Seeing that Mr Grant had leaned forward to see what had surprised him so, Harry quickly folded the paper and slipped it into his inner cloak pocket, then he stood up. Hurriedly shaking the other man's hand, Harry thanked him, and stumbled out of his office breathing heavily, shock overcoming his very being.
Later that night, Harry sat in Grimmauld Place's mahogany study. He was currently sitting in the large winged armchair and was staring at the dancing flames in the fireplace, wondering how it had all happened.
How had Chuck happened? He was only perhaps a year older than Harry himself, so that meant that James Potter must have gotten this Eve Shurley pregnant just months after he had graduated, because Harry knew that his parents had been married within a year of their graduation. But how?
Remus and Sirius had told him that his parents had come together in their seventh year? Had they been exploring other areas, other partners? Or had James Potter cheated on Harry's mother? Questions swam in Harry's head, each question making four more sprout forth. Reaching into his robe pocket (he hadn't changed out of it yet, as he hadn't been psychologically able to do much today), he pulled out the parchment with his family tree, and examined the names on there.
It was sad really, how few people connected to him were alive. His eyes, though seemed to have a life of their own, as they kept zeroing back on Chuck Shurley's name and more precisely; his address.
So Chuck was an American. That meant that Harry would have to visit America to meet him. But did he want to meet him? He'd spent the last ten years a recluse, avoiding everyone and everything. Was he ready to slip back into society so readily? He'd spent roughly ten years in Grimmauld Place, intermittently leaving the house for a walk or a jog, but he hadn't had a proper conversation with anyone for long time.
Hermione and Ron came by sometimes, but their lives were getting increasingly more interesting and their friendship with Harry less rewarding. He was a burden to them. Sure, he, being the Man-Who-Vanquished-Him, was an excellent trick to have up one's sleeve and perfect to forward one's career, but it got to the point that Hermione and Ron had their own friends who were couples. A single, lonely, anxious man didn't fit into that life.
So could he? Could he just leave everything behind - for a while at least? And see whether Chuck Shurley would accept him? Maybe even talk to him about his own childhood? Setting down the tumbler filled with the amber liquid, Harry came to a decision; he would go to America.
The Ministry of Magic in America was much more modern than the one in Britain. Sophisticated, and up to date. Harry had decided to take the muggle way - aeroplane - to sort out his thoughts and maybe even to slip by the intrusive government (for governments are always intrusive), but the moment he landed in the airport, his magical presence (electromagnetic energy) was detected, and agents were dispatched - or so said Agent Farnham.
Said Agent picked him up right after passport control and took him to a separate office which Harry sensed was warded by magic, albeit with magic and runes more primitive than those used in England. Agent Farnham proceeded to express her thanks for stopping a magical world war (she explained that America would have gotten involved if Voldemort had become an international threat; that is to say, if England had fallen), and then asked him a few questions about his visit in the United States. *3(A/N)
Harry's answers were short, succinct and to the point. He hadn't had much human interaction in the past ten years, and it was proving to be a bit hard to practice human interaction again. Finally, after an hour or two (during which Harry's magical suitcase was searched) of questions, Harry finally left the airport, with a pamphlet in hand discussing the chaotic magic in the land, types of magical creatures found in the North American region and what to do if attacked by one such creature.
He spent the night in a motel just out of Washington, wondering how he should approach Chuck. Just suddenly appearing on his doorstep was… exactly that, sudden. How would Chuck take the news that he had a younger half-brother? What would he say. Sighing, Harry rolled over and turned his cushion over, attempting to fall asleep. His nerves kept him up, and anxiety suddenly seemed much closer than usual.
Harry slowly let his rented car - an old 1969 Opel he'd gotten for a cheap price - come to a stop in front of the house designated to the address he'd found on the parchment. He'd somehow thought that he'd done the hardest part already. He'd slipped out of England, managed to find a motel and pay with muggle money. He'd also managed to drive his rented car on the wrong side of the road… but he hadn't expected that the hardest step would actually be stepping out of said car and walking up to the front door.
He pulled the parking break and gently pushed the door open. One house over, he could see a woman eagerly peaking over the bushes that she seemed to be cutting (though curiously, no leaves were to be found on the ground) and was most probably collecting information to later discuss with her friends.
Harry walked up to the front door and noticed that the light in the hallway was on. So, Chuck was home. Then, hesitantly, he raised a hand and knocked on the door. From within, Harry heard a groan of annoyance and seconds later, the door swung open to reveal a man - slightly shorter than Harry - wearing a morning robe, boxer shorts with little cartoon depictions wings on them and a red and gold t-shirt with a round, white circle in the middle. His hair was disheveled as though he had just woken up, and he was unshaven. *4(A/N)
Despite everything, Harry chuckled - Chuck (if this was Chuck) looked almost as miserable as he himself felt. The man took one glance at him and groaned. Harry was wearing a muggle shirt with a cartoon depiction of a werewolf and khaki trousers, and looking around, said wizard found nothing to be grown-worthy.
"You're one of the fans aren't you. How did you find my house? Did Becky tell you? Or the Winchesters. Ohhh, I bet it was the Winchesters."
Harry blinked as the questions were shot at him in rapid succession. The man seemed to be almost panicking. Did he have anxiety? "…Winchesters?… Wait - fans?"
The man stared at him for a moment, then his eyes narrowed slightly, "You're not a fan?"
"A fan of what?"
"Supernatural?" Seeing Harry's continued confused expression, he elaborated, "I'm a writer. I wrote these books called Supernatural. Fans keep trying to track me down - most of them just want to bitch about the books. But," he shrugged, "Haters gonna hate."
Harry continued blinking at him, then cleared his throat and offered his hand. "My name is Harry Potter. Are you… uh… Chuck Shurley?"
The man hesitated, and after a moment, took Harry's hand, smiling weakly as he did so. "Nice to meet you. Uh not to sound rude or anything, but why are you here?"
Harry glanced at the lady next door who was pretending to trim her bushes but she had angled her head so as to be able to hear what they were saying.
"Can I maybe come inside? I don't think this is a matter that can be discussed in the open like this."Chuck shrugged and took a step back, letting Harry into the house.
Almost instantly, the stench of alcohol assaulted Harry's nose and he looked around, searching for the offending items. To his shock, he found that the living room - for that was where Chuck had led him - was littered with bottles covering most of the ratty furniture. The only modern piece of technology was a computer standing on a desk in the corner of the room. Most probably the place where Chuck wrote his books.
"Drink?" Chuck asked, gesturing to the fridge he'd just opened. Harry shook his head but Chuck grabbed two bottles of beer anyway and set one down on the coffee table in the living room. He then sat down on one of the sofas. Harry copied him and sat down on the other one, directly across him. Chuck leaned back into his worn sofa and popped the beer bottle open. "So, uh, you wanted to talk to me, Mr Potter-"
"Harry's fine. You can call me Harry." Chuck nodded once to show that he understood and Harry's lips tilted upwards in thanks.
"Uh, the Headmaster of my school took ages to get to the point and I remember hating that, so I'll be blunt. My name is Harry James Potter and I was born in England, but I became an orphan at one when my parents were brutally murdered; recently, I went to the… War Office, and searched for any records of other family members. I only found two living relatives. I hate one of them, and well… the other is you."
Chuck had leaned forward by the end of Harry's short speech. He had set his beer bottle back on the coffee table and had clasped his hands together. He was staring at Harry in shock.
"Really? Uh, do you know how? I mean, I grew up an orphan too, as a kid I jumped between foster homes. I never knew my parents. It'd be awesome to find more of my family."
"Well… this will probably come as a shock to you, but we're brothers-" Seeing Chuck's shocked facial expression, Harry corrected himself, "Well, half-brothers. We share the same dad - James Potter."
Thank you for reading!
Next update: Next week, Saturday.
*1: Munch is actually real. You can check him out on the Harry Potter wikia
*2: Eve Shurley is a reference to Adam and Eve who were the 'first' humans.
*3: Agent Farnham is a reference to the series Fringe... It's an awesome show - kind of like the x-files but cooler.
*4: The T-Shirt is a reference to the Iron Man franchise, and the boxer shorts are a reference to Chuck being God. XD