Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related affiliates thereof belong to JK Rowling. Supernatural and all related affiliates thereof belong to Eric Kripke. This is purely for entertainment purposes only, no profit is being made. In other words, please don't sue me! Recognizable quotes are from Supernatural's pilot episode and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

AN: So this is my first attempt at Supernatural and I'm pretty nervous about posting this. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Next order of business...this was inspired by Kirallie's awesome story "Meet Uncle John", which all of you should go read, and it was Kirallie who was kind enough to beta this for me. So many thanks chica! If any of you have read my stories in the past, you know that I am notoriously bad about regularly posting. I'm going to try being more consistant but please bear with me. Timelines have been messed with for both series, PM me if you want to know precisely how.

Summary: Harry Potter has always wanted a family that cared about him, that loved him in the proper way a family should. He'd long since given up hope his dream would one day become a reality, content that the dream was enough. A startling discovery on his seventeenth birthday will change all that, sending him to America where he will meet a man and his sons no one knew existed. How far will Harry go to protect his new found family? How will the Winchesters react to a family member showing up on their doorstep just as the hunt for the demon is heating up? They're all about to learn that family is everything, no matter how messed up it is.


Carry on my wayward son
There'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

"Carry on Wayward Son" Kansas


Twenty-two years ago – Lawrence, Kansas

Mary Winchester smiled as she entered the room of her youngest son, Sam. He was smiling happily up at the spinning mobile above him, his eyes bright with delight. Her older son, Dean was held safely in her arms. He was leaning forward excitedly, anxious to see his brother.

"Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother," she murmured. He scrambled out of her arms and ran over to the crib. He leaned carefully over the side and placed a soft kiss on the baby's brow.

"Good night Sam," he said quietly; the younger boy's eyes diverted for a moment to watch his older brother. A figure entered the room, smiling happily at the scene of the two boys.

"Hey Dean."The small blond four year old spun around quickly, a large smile plastered on his face.

"Daddy!" He ran as quickly as his small legs could carry him, launching himself into his father's arms. John caught his son easily, swinging him up to face his mom and brother.

"Hey buddy, what do you think? You think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?" He teased gently. Dean shook his head, his blond tresses swinging wildly. He giggled lightly.

"No Daddy."

"No?" John countered, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise; only the corners of his lips quirking up slightly gave him away. Mary walked over to the pair, smiling.

"You got him?" she murmured quietly. He affirmed just as quietly before focusing on his second son, turning off the light. "Sweet dreams, Sammy."

Later that night, the mother of two was sleeping peacefully when the baby monitor on the nightstand sounded. She slowly opened her eyes and turned on the light. "John?" Mary turned to see that her husband was not in bed and threw the covers off. Padding silently across the room to her son's room she saw her husband standing next to Sam's crib. She relaxed subtly seeing him. "John is he hungry?" she asked quietly, so as not to disturb the pair.

He turned his head slightly, "Shh."

"Okay." She walked away, knowing her son was in good hands. A flickering light caught her attention. Mary tapped it lightly until it stopped. "Mmm." Now that she was at the end of the hallway she heard the faint murmur of the television. She headed down figuring John had been watching it and left it on accidently. However she saw him asleep in the chair and panic flared in her chest. "Sammy! Sammy!" She raced back to her son's bedroom.

John was awakened that night by his wife's pain filled scream. "Mary?! Mary! Mary!" His shouts filled the house as he took the stairs two at a time. He quickly found himself in his son's room but only saw his son in his crib. He headed over to confirm that the baby was indeed there and unharmed. "Hey, Sammy. Okay?"

The baby gurgled at his father and John rubbed his head affectionately. He saw a red spot on his son's sheets and slid his hand down. Another red spot dotted his hand and he glanced up. The sight was horrible. Mary was staring at him, her face a mask of terror and her stomach viciously slashed.

John crumbled slightly, away from the sight. "No! Mary!" Before he had a chance to think, her body erupted in flames and Sammy began crying, large fat tears running down his chubby cheeks. His heart wrenching, he grabbed his son and fled the room.

In the hallway, Dean ran towards his parents' room, the flames lighting his face. "Daddy!" His father had just emerged from his brother's room, carrying a small bundle of blankets. John carefully and quickly handed over the baby.

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back!" Dean hesitated for a second, scared of walking through the fire. "Now Dean, go!" As soon as the boy was gone, John started towards the nursery again, which was almost entirely engulfed by flames. "Mary! No!"

Dean ran faster than he had ever run in his short life, clinging desperately to his baby brother. It was hard to see with the ash and fire flying around but he finally made it to the front door. A burst of cool air hit him as he ran from the house. The blond stopped on the lawn and turned back. "It's okay, Sam," he said gently, trying to calm both himself and his terrified brother.

John sprinted up behind them and pulled them both into his arms, just as a window erupted in a fiery blaze. "I gotcha." Like Dean, he said it to assure the boys but also himself.


Sixteen years ago – Godric's Hollow, England

James Potter was smiling down at the sleeping infant beside him on the couch. Harry was lying on his stomach, his arms curled beneath him and his bottom stuck straight in the air. His breathing was light and even. Lily entered from the kitchen and stopped upon seeing her boys. She slowly made her way over to the couch, leaning over to get a better view.

"He gets this from your side, you know that right?" he teased, an easy smile playing on his lips. She merely rolled her eyes and ran her hand over her son's baby soft hair.

"Well, at least it's better than his flyaway hair!" She jested softly. She smiled before continuing. "Poor guy's not gonna know what to do with it!"

"Oh, c'mon, Potter hair is all part of the charm," James' grin widened. "It worked on you..."

"I believe it did..." Lily leaned further over and brushed her lips across her husband's. Before it could deepen however, a sound was suddenly blaring through their small house. James looked wildly at the entrance.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off—" He jumped up and ran towards the figure looming in the hallway, not glancing back at his small family. She grabbed her screaming son as she ran towards the backdoor. Seeing a red sheen covering the door, she knew she wouldn't be able to get out. She fled up the stairs into her son's nursery, just as an acid green light filled the hall. Slamming the door shut behind her she ran to the window trying to wrench it open, her tears falling into her son's soft curls.

"It's okay, baby. Mama's gonna make it all okay..." She said, trying to calm the child as she realized it was futile. She heard the creak of the stairs and set her son in the crib, kissing his head one last time and positioning herself in front just as the door was blasted open.

The figure approached silently, his dark cloak swaying about him gently in the nonexistent breeze. Lily felt fear grip her heart and her tears falling steadily down her face.

"Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!" She cried as the man continued to advance.

His voice was harsh and cold as he spoke, "Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now..."

Lily shook her head violently, throwing her arms out wide so as to create a bigger barrier between this man and her son. "Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"

"This is your last warning, child. Stand aside!"

But she just shook her head, not moving as he took a step forward. Fear was in her shimmering green eyes but so was determination. If she was willing to die for her son, then so be it. "Not Harry! Not Harry! Please! I'll do anything – Not Harry! Please...have mercy...have mercy..."

Growing tired of her pleas, he raised his wand and with a flash of blinding green light the young woman was dead. Sudden exhilaration sprung up inside the man and he opened his mouth letting a high, cold, cruel laugh escape. He stared at the small child before him, his green eyes puffy from crying, tear tracks apparent on its red cheeks. The man raised his wand a third time and for the final time that night the room was illuminated with green light. This time however, twin screams of pain pierced the night before the house finally fell silent.


July 31, 2006 – Surrey, England

Seventeen year old Harry Potter was sitting in his aunt's kitchen, going through a box of old things from his mother's family. There were pictures of his grandfather from the war and newspaper clippings of his great-uncle's marriage to the local vicar's daughter. Beside him on the table were his grandmother's journal and a photo album that was filled with old pictures of his mother and aunt. She said he could have anything he wanted, that everything had been gathering dust in the attic for years.

6 July, 1958

Today was one of the best and worst days of my life! Anne Marie and I were driving through Kansas on our way to New Orleans when our car broke down just outside a little town called Lawrence. We tried to figure out what the problem was but I know next to nothing about cars and Anne Marie knows even less. Just as we were about to start walking into town to get help, a car full of American boys pulls up beside us and offers to help. They could have done whatever they wanted to our car and we wouldn't have noticed, not when we were watching them work. I couldn't help noticing one in particular. His name was Winchester...

Harry skipped ahead a few pages to the next entry.

7 July, 1958

Allen Winchester is the type of man every girl wants: sexy, polite, kind, great ass! And he kissed me! And it was amazing! Best kiss of my life! I can't wait to see him again. We were supposed to leave tomorrow but I begged Anne Marie to let us stay an extra day, it's not like we're on a schedule or anything.

He flipped through the journal, not really wanting to read about his eighteen year old grandmother's love life. Harry started to set it aside when a passage caught his attention.

13 Sept, 1958

I'M PREGNANT! I don't know what I'm going to do, who to tell. Oh my god, I have to tell Allen! But how? I mean this isn't something you tell over the phone, but I really don't have the money to fly to the States, let alone the money to take care of a baby. A baby. I'm having a baby. What do I do?

Green eyes flashed as he continued reading about the uncle he never knew he had. Apparently, after Grace Watson had the baby, a boy, she gave him to his father to raise. He was older than her by several years and could take care of the child. When Grace was twenty four, she returned Kansas to talk with Allen about being a part of John's life but as she pulled up to the house, she saw her little boy running around the yard with his father and a woman her son was calling "mommy". She decided not to disrupt her five year olds life and left without ever saying a word. A year later, she married the love of her life, Edward Evans and soon afterwards, they had a baby girl, Petunia. Lily was born two years later.

2 April, 1988

I'm dying, at least that's what the doctors tell me. My heart is wearing out. Eddy would have joked that I always take things too literally; that I died of a broken heart. God, how I miss that man. Sometimes it's hard to get up in the morning knowing he won't be there. I'm happy that we'll finally be together again but sad that I'm leaving my girls too soon. If I could have any wish before I die, it'd be to see them together and happy, like they used to be. I know I've made mistakes, too many to count but I hope they can forgive me, all of them.

Petunia, darling, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything I couldn't give you. Don't blame your sister, blame me and let your anger die with me. I love you and I'm proud of you. You can do anything so long as you believe in yourself. Don't ever forget that.

Lily, my light. Don't ever lose that which burns brightest within you. Take care of your sister, for me. She needs your love as I once did. I love you and I know you will be alright. You're strong and caring.

John, oh my little John. It is for you I weep the most. If I could change anything in my life, it would be giving you up. I was young and stupid. The only thing I did right by you was giving you the family you so rightly deserved. I hope you lived a happy life, and I miss you with every breath that I take. I love you. I want you to know that I have always loved you.

Harry turned the page and saw that there were no more entries, just an obituary dated three weeks later. He looked over at the clock on the microwave and saw it was nearly dinner. He began packing things back into the box and gathered up the two journals and the photo album. Tucking them safely in his backpack, he carried everything outside onto the front step and glanced back at his childhood home. It looked just the same as it always did, the same as all the other houses on the block. He turned away one last time and apparated out of sight.