The sunset over the lake that was at the very heart of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was one of the most magnificent in the world. Very few people would see it, however, as only those gifted with magic could attend the school. Even those that could attend the esteemed school rarely paid the sunset any attention at all, merely taking it for granted. One person that was sure to always watch the sunset was Albus Dumbledore.
He was currently stood at a window in his round office, watching as the sun turned the water a deep red which shimmered pink occasionally. He had been stood in this tranquil pose for over 10 minutes, watching as the fiery orb slowly disappeared below the horizon. It was in these moments of calmness that his most brilliant and revolutionary thoughts came to him. He gave a sigh of contentment and had a fleeting thought that all would not be like this for much longer if Voldemort continued his rampage through the wizarding world.
The moment of serenity was interrupted, however, when the door to his office slammed forcefully open and banged into the wall. He turned quickly to see who it was that barged into his office and was taken aback by the sight that reached him. Harry Potter stood before him, still in his school robes from his day of lessons, even though lessons had ended hours ago. Harry was glaring at Dumbledore, his eyes like cold chips of emeralds. He had an expression of pure fury on his face, and he radiated rage in intense waves.
"What the hell is this?" Harry snarled at Dumbledore, throwing a book down onto his desk. Dumbledore swiftly sat down behind his desk and quickly scanned the page that Harry was so infuriated about. He immediately recognised that the book was Lily's diary, which she had started in her fifth year, just as the war was really reaching its violent peaks. He skimmed the page and saw what it was that had upset Harry, and paled.
"Harry, I think you should calm down and we can talk about this reasonably." Dumbledore tried to get Harry to calm down, as he had no desire to see his office once again in pieces like last year when Harry was upset about Sirius' death.
Harry threw himself into a chair in front of the desk and turned his cold glare onto Dumbledore. He took a deep breath and composed himself, even though Dumbledore could still feel the rage rolling off of him. "I have spent the last year struggling to fit in all my school work as well as all the training that you have decided to finally teach me. I have to fit school and Quiditch around physical exercise with Tonks, spell work and duelling with Moody, occulmensy and legilimensy with Snape and random Auror training with Shacklebolt." Harry leaned forward and hissed at Dumbledore, "When I agreed to this training shortly after Sirius died, you told me that you were hiding nothing else from me. I asked! And you said no!"
"Harry… I thought it best that you did not know. It doesn't make a difference if you were to know or not."
"Not make a difference?" Harry stabbed a finger at the diary. "I explicitly ask you if there is anything else life-changing about me that you have failed to mention and you say no! I have to find something like this out from my dead mother's diary." Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, but Harry beat him to it, hissing in a deadly voice, "Don't you dare say it. No matter what, I don't blame my mother. Being genetically related to a child doesn't make you a parent, as my mother states in her diary."
Dumbledore offered Harry a smile, which wasn't returned. "Now Harry, I would never say such a thing. I know that Lily's parents loved her very much, even if they weren't her real parents. Now summer starts in a few weeks, and whilst you are here, we may as well talk about arrangement for the escort to your relatives…"
Harry, whose anger had lessoned slightly as Dumbledore had spoken about his parents, looked up incredulously. His fury returned in full impact. "What? I have to go back to those people? I now know that I am not related to them in any way whatsoever. Living there offers no protection at all."
"Be that as it may, Voldemort does not know this. The house will offer some protection as long as he believes that wards are in place."
"All these years you have sent me to that hell, where they hate and neglect me, knowing that there are no wards and that I could have been killed all this time? You disgust me." Harry stood up quickly, taking his mother's diary with him. "I refuse to go back. And I refuse to allow myself to be manipulated any longer. I am leaving."
Harry made his way to the door and wretched it open. "We will talk about this tomorrow when you have calmed down some more Harry." Dumbledore watched as Harry's hand stilled on the door handle and he became rigid. Dumbledore thought that Harry would turn around and apologise to him for talking in a disrespectful tone, but when Harry turned around, there was a sarcastic smile on his face.
"Oh, I don't think so. You see, I'm leaving. As in leaving the school for a while. Tonight. I can't believe someone I trusted so much would manipulate my entire life and not even regret it."
Dumbledore was flabbergasted. "But what about Voldemort! And school. Next year is your seventh and final year. It is important!"
"I'm sure I will be ok. After all, I have survived Voldemort for the last 16 years and he won't know where I have gone. Here at Hogwarts, he knows exactly where I am. As for school, I will probably come back in September. Or maybe not. I don't care anymore." Harry gave Dumbledore one last glare and mock saluted him as he slammed the door behind him, leaving Dumbledore speechless.
Harry leaned against the wall in his dorm room. He took a deep breath to calm himself and hugged his mother's diary closer. He knew that it didn't matter that Lily was adopted. Her parents had loved her, and had taken her in and given her a loving home. Lily had loved them more than anything else in the world, and they would always be her parents in her mind, as she stated in her diary. What hurt was that Dumbledore has known all along, and had lied to him and still sent him to the Dursley's. Harry had asked him when Dumbledore first told him about the training he was going to start whether there was anything else he should know. And the old man had said no. Now this had all come out!
Harry pushed himself off the wall and pulled a backpack out of his trunk. He began to shove muggle clothes into it. He had finally gotten rid of the old cast-offs that the Dursley's had so kindly provided him with. During his training in the summer after Sirius' death, Hermione had dragged him shopping for new clothes, and despite his expectation of hating the day, he found himself thoroughly enjoying himself. As Hermione said, he never had a chance to shop or buy anything for himself growing up, so having new clothes and looking well dressed was something she had expected him to enjoy.
After he had shoved a selection of jeans and t-shirts into the bag, Harry contemplated what else to bring with him. He had already changed into muggle jeans and a shirt, and so his wand was in an invisible holster in his arm, curtsey of Moody. After debating, he placed the leather bound photo album of him and his parents and photos of him, Ron and Hermione inside the bag beneath his clothes. He also fitted in his gym clothes, with every intention of carrying on with his training.
Since the start of last summer, Dumbledore had Harry doing all kinds of training to aid him in defeating Voldemort. Members from the Order were brought in on it so that they could help teach Harry a variety of different topics. It was now the start of April, only two and a half months until the summer holidays, and Harry was nearly unrecognisable. He had gotten rid of his glasses just before Christmas because Moody kept disarming him by breaking them and then proceeding to give Harry hour long lectures on why he should just get his eyes fixed by an expert mediwizard. He had given in eventually and found that it wasn't as bad as he thought. Now that he got used to it, he found that he liked being able to see clearly.
At first, the training had all been about magic, but then Tonks had mentioned how appalling how most wizards fitness level was and how all you had to do was wait until they wore themselves out in a duel. This had led to Dumbledore insisting Tonks train Harry in physical exercise methods. Everyday, Harry was expected to do at least an hour of exercise.
Having placed everything he intended to take with him into the backpack, Harry sank down to the floor next to his trunk and cradled his head in his hands. Everything was falling apart. First Voldemort rises, then Sirius dies and now this. Harry had no idea what he should do. He just needed to get away from it all for a while – away from all the lies and expectations that everyone seemed to have for him. Harry thought for a moment and impulsively chose a destination from the top of his head. For now, he would stick in the muggle world. Dumbledore, for all his ideals on how muggleborns and muggles are equal to wizards in everyway, had no idea about the muggle world at all and wouldn't know where to start looking for Harry.
Feeling tears prick at his eyes when he thought about Dumbledore's lies and manipulation, Harry quickly wrote a note to his two best friends, explaining that he needed time to think and make some decisions. He told them he might see them next September on the Hogwarts Express but he wasn't sure, and could they please take good care of Hedwig and the rest of the stuff in his trunk until he asked them to send them to him or he saw them again. Sadness coloured with determination settled on Harry as he left the note on Ron's bed and left the dorms without looking back.
A month. That was how long Harry had been travelling around the United States of America. It had started with a small trip to see the Grand Canyon and Harry had found that he loved the open space available in America, and how he could travel around easily and without anyone paying the smallest amount of notice to him. He loved the feeling of normality it gave him. He hadn't felt at peace in so long.
Harry also got a lot of time to practice his magic. The USA had relaxed laws on the use of magic, and as long as no magic was used in front of muggles who didn't know about the magical world or who weren't related to a witch or wizard, then Harry could use it, even though he was still a few months away from becoming legally an adult in the magical world. This gave Harry scope to practice as much as he wanted, although he avoided other witches and wizards as much as possible, in case one recognised him.
Travelling around also wasn't a problem. Harry had learnt how to apparate last year at school, and whilst he couldn't get his license until he was 17, he could still use it in emergencies. Because of this, Harry set about trying to find other ways to travel around the muggle world. Harry knew all about cars and motorbikes because of living with the Dursley's for the last sixteen years. He knew that in England, he had to be at least 17 before he could get his license, but he found that in the US he only had to be 16. Harry had taken lessons and then using magic, he faked himself a driving license in case he got pulled up by the police. At every city, Harry rented himself a car or a bike – he normally went with the bike though. He loved the feeling he got when driving it, it was almost like flying.
No matter what, he still couldn't stop thinking about what he had read about in his mother's diary. It wasn't that he didn't love Lily, or that he didn't respect the fact that his mother hadn't wanted to find her biological parents, he just wanted to find out where she came from, and if he had any living relatives. It was with this motivation in mind that he set about researching his family, using the tiny bits of information that his mother had known and had wrote into her diary. He was good at research, but not as good as Hermione.
Bobby Singer looked at the two young men in front of him. The younger was tall, around 6'4, with light brown hair and soulful brown eyes. The elder was slightly shorter and had a different, darker shade of brown hair and pale green eyes. Just looking at them, Bobby could tell that they were brothers.
Dean was acting his normal self, but underneath Bobby could see the pain and doubt. Sam had told him everything that had happened with ghosts and how guilty the two brothers felt. Both brothers were hurt and emotionally run down, so Bobby had insisted that they stay with him for a while and refused to allow them onto another hunt.
"Hey Bobby, you got any food in this house at all?" Dean grumbled, ransacking the kitchen cupboards.
"You two eat so much, I have to do another load of shopping. You'll eat me out of business." Bobby's tone was one of reproach, but his smile told the two brothers that he was amused. Dean opened his mouth to retort playfully when there was a knock on the door. All three men looked at one another. "Go into the living room. It could be a customer and you two are supposed to be dead felons remember?"
Sam nodded and dragged his older brother with him. They closed the door into the living room and settled in front of a monitor that was hooked up to the CCTV camera system that Bobby kept in his house. He may act paranoid, but all hunters had to be in order to survive.
As soon as the door to the living room closed tightly, Bobby made his way to the door that opened straight into the kitchen. He had no idea who was behind it – it could have been a customer for the mechanics yard attached to his house, another hunter or a demon straight out of hell.
Taking a deep breath, Bobby pulled open the door. Stood before him was a teenager, aged anywhere between 16 and 19, Bobby couldn't tell. He had black hair that was messed up, intentionally or not, and bright green eyes. He wasn't overly tall, just reaching six foot in height, but he still looked down on Bobby slightly. There was a nervous air about him that made Bobby relax. But only slightly.
Before Bobby could speak, the boy beat him to it. "Erm, hi. Are you Bobby Singer, the owner of this mechanics yard?" His voice was deep and soft and was distinctly British.
Bobby narrowed his eyes and simply said "Yes."
The boy in front of him gave a relieved smile. "Oh good. Would it be possible for me to come inside? What I want to discuss is a little bit strange."
Bobby gave the boy a once over again. He was wearing simple jeans, t-shirt and a jacket, yet they looked well made and hinted at designer. Not sure what the make of the boy, Bobby merely moved aside and indicated to the boy that he should sit at the table. Slamming the door and noticing how the boy tensed, Bobby's eyebrows rose. Slipping into the seat opposite the boy, he just waited for him to speak.
After almost five minutes of silence, the boy seemed to get his nerve up. "My name's Harry Potter. I, erm, I'm here because I know that John Winchester was a part owner of your business." He stopped and looked at Bobby. Bobby noticed how the boy's – Harry's- eyes seemed to take in every detail. He sighed and continued. "I know that he had two sons – Dean and Samuel. But I also know that John Winchester had a daughter when he was 15."
Bobby's mouth fell open. "How do you know that? I'm the only one who knew about that. Not even John's sons knew!"
Harry mumbled something. He fiddled with his hands for a moment and when he looked up, Bobby could the anxiety clearly in Harry's features. "My parents died when I was a baby, and so I only got their personal things when I turned sixteen last year. One thing was my mother's diary." Harry looked away and stared at the wall. "She found out she was adopted when she was a teenager. She did some research and found out her biological mother was on holiday in the States when she met John Winchester. As soon as my mother was born, she was put up for adoption. My biological grandmother got married years later and had a family, but they all died in a car crash."
Bobby nodded to Harry to continue when he stopped and caught his eye. Harry immediately began to babble. "My mother had some friends in law and politics, and my father comes from an old family. They hired some people to research my mother's adoption to see if they could find my biological grandfather's name. They tracked down the original sealed records. They managed to get them unsealed and found that John Winchester was the biological father of my mother, Lily Evans." Harry stopped and looked at his hands.
Bobby's brain took a moment to catch up. When it did, he was shocked. "Are you sure? I mean they could have been wrong."
"No, the records are all real and legal." Harry paused and then ploughed on. "I just wanted to see if I had any family left. I researched the names and found that John and his wife Mary Winchester are dead. I thought perhaps they may have had children, and I found them but…"
Bobby looked at the teenager in front of him and knew how that sentence was going to finish. He thought Sam and Dean were dead. Dead felons wanted by the FBI to be exact. He was dragged out of his thought when Harry continued talking. "I know that all my relatives are dead, but I found that John Winchester owned the business with you. I don't know why I'm here actually. I just had to see someone who knew my biological grandfather and uncles. I should…..I should just go." Harry rose to his feet and seemed to debate with himself for a second, before slipping a piece of paper onto the table. Before Bobby could react, Harry was out of the door in seconds.
Sam and Dean sat silently throughout the exchange. There were so many thoughts going through their head. Was it true? Why were they never told that their father had been a teenage dad and had a daughter? Or was this just some demon trick, hoping to lower their guard?
"Do you think this is for real?" Sam asked his brother quietly, watching as the boy left the house on the monitor.
"I don't know. I mean, it is so surreal…. We have to be sure." Dean looked at his brother and felt an urge of overwhelming brotherly love. Dragging Sam into a hug, Dean thought about the situation. Family had always meant everything to him, and since their Dad had died and it was just him and Sammy, he had become even more determined to protect his family. If this kid was for real and he really was their nephew, Dean would make sure he did everything in his power to protect him. If he wasn't and it was some demon trick, Dean thought viciously, he would make the evil bastard pay for even thinking of hurting his family.
Even as Dean was pulling away from his brother, Bobby stomped into the room. He took one look at the brothers before presenting them with a cold beer each and took a swig of his own. "We need to talk." He threw himself into a chair opposite them and looked them over. "What that boy said was true – your Daddy had a kid when he was just a teenager. The girl ran off back to England with her family, and the only thing John ever heard was that he had a baby girl. After that, the girl never contacted him again."
"Why weren't we told?" Sam asked quietly, gripping his untouched beer tightly in his hands.
Bobby looked at him hard before answering. "Because it doesn't make a difference. Your Daddy spent years trying to find the girl and his daughter. He met your mother years later, and he told her everything. They even searched together. It wasn't until John became a Hunter and got some useful contacts that he learned that they girl had died with her entire family. John thought that included his daughter. But as that boy said, the records were sealed and your Daddy couldn't have known about the adoption. He didn't have contacts that high up."
"So this guy could actually be our nephew? It might not be a demon trick?" Dean asked, and even Sam could hear the hopeful edge in his voice.
Bobby looked at both of them long and hard. He sighed heavily, but met their gazes. "Yeah. It could be true." He turned and looked at the monitor that Dean had frozen on a certain image. The mysterious boy looked back at him from the screen. Bobby had to admit, he certainly looked like a young John Winchester.
"He has Dad's build." Dean said suddenly, staring at the image intently. Looking the teenager's face over once more, he randomly turned his intense gaze to his brother. "I – we – have to know for sure."
Sam simply nodded once and both young men turned to look hopefully at Bobby. "Alright." Bobby thought for a moment. "Here's what you should do. He gave me his cell number and the hotel that he is staying in. You should go and wait for him to leave his room and search his things to see if you can find any evidence he is telling the truth. Once you have done that, come back here and we can discuss what we are going to do either way."
The lock gave a slight click and the door opened silently, allowing the Winchester brothers entrance to the simple room. Closing the door, they looked around at the modest room that the teenager had chosen. It was decorated in simple blue and had a double bed and wardrobe. A door lead off, which Sam discovered was an ensuite bathroom. Not knowing how much time they had, because they saw the teen leave in jogging clothes and didn't know how far he ran, Sam began to search efficiently through a stack of papers that were on the bed.
"Dude, you should see some of these clothes." Sam paused and looked over at Dean, who was searching the kid's bag. "These clothes are all genuine designer – Armani, Dolce, Prada, Versace – man this must have cost a fortune!" Dean continued searching. "Hey. I've found some pictures." He held up a leather bound album and deftly flipped the cover open. There were a few pages of a dark haired man and a bright eyed woman. Dean's eyes were draw to one particular picture where the couple were gazing lovingly at a baby with messy black hair. Showing it to his brother he stated, "This must be his parents, before they died. His mom, she has green eyes like Dad's mom."
"She does look like Dad's mom, in the photos he used to show us." Sam told his brother quietly. He watched as Dean flicked to later photos in the album, which showed the teenager with various other people through the years. Returning his gaze back to the papers in front of him, he found what was obviously the diary that the kid had been telling Bobby about. He also found pages of notes the kid had printed off a computer and hand written about information he had found whilst tracking down his biological family. Shuffling them to the side, the next pieces of paper caused him to freeze.
"Dean." He said quietly. Dean looked up from his continuing search of the bag and looked at the papers in his younger brother's hand. His eyes narrowed and he sighed. Trapped in his brother's vice-like grip were black and white copies of the FBI's wanted pictures of the Winchester brothers. Even without looking at the text underneath the photos, Dean knew that they were lists of the horrible charges against them.
"Great. So now he thinks we are crazy serial killers." Dean looked his brother intently in the eye. "He really is our nephew isn't he?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah. I found the letters from his lawyer and copies of the official birth and adoption certificates. They are real."
"Did Dad know about him?"
Sam shook his head at hearing the anger and accusation in Dean's voice. "No. Bobby told us the truth. It's all in Lily's diary. Her biological mother gave her up in a private adoption and part of the deal was for the records to be sealed. Without contacts in seriously high places, Dad would have had no chance to find his daughter, let alone find out he had a grandson." Sam watched as relief laced his brother's features. He himself didn't know what to think or feel. He suddenly dropped the papers back onto the bed and looked at his brother. "Dean – how the hell are we going to tell him that we aren't dead and we aren't psycho killers?"
"Ah crap. I hadn't even thought about the fact that we are going to have to explain." Dean shoved the clothes and photo album back into the bag. "We should go before he gets back."
It was the third time that Bobby had said the same word and yet he still seemed unable to finish or even form the next sentence. The three men were once again sat at the table in Bobby's kitchen, clutching beers. Even Dean had been unusually quiet since the brothers had left the motel room.
"So –" Bobby repeated once again, until he was interrupted by Dean speaking for the first time since confirming that the kid was actually their brother.
"Sammy, you've done some research on the kid – Harry – and his parents. What did you find?"
Sam looked up at his brother. He had done some research on the internet as soon they had got back, but up until now neither Dean nor Bobby had asked to see any of it. He cleared is throat and said, "Well, he was born on July 31st and is 17 on his next birthday. His full name on the birth certificate is Harry James Potter. His parents were Lily and James Potter." Sam stopped and took a swig of beer, reluctant to continue.
"Dude, just tell me." Dean clenched his fist, his eyes boring into his younger brother's.
Sam swallowed hard. "His parents – Lily and James Potter- were killed in a house explosion when he was a baby. The whole house was a ruin and it's a miracle that he survived. Having no other relatives, he was given to his aunt – his mother's adopted sister - who lives in Surrey. Everything is normal until he was shipped off to a boarding school registered in Scotland when he was 11. I also found that he was emancipated in April. His aunt and uncle signed the forms and Harry now has complete control over the Potter family estate."
Dean looked away from his brother, deep in thought. Their young nephew lost his parents when he was a baby and was then shoved with an aunt who seemed to not care about him and got rid of him in boarding school as soon as she could. At least he and Sammy had their Dad most of time when he wasn't on a hunt. Suddenly, something Sammy had said clicked.
"Did you say estate?"
Sam nodded. "The Potter family is an old English family that can be traced back hundreds of year. Over that time, they have gathered quite a large number of businesses and property, as well as a large bank account. Several large bank accounts, in fact. Harry is the last Potter so he gained control of it all when he was legally declared an adult when he was emancipated."
"Well, that explains the expensive clothes and things we found in his room." Dean smiled at his brother. "Like that matters. I still can't get over the fact that we have a naphew who is a Brit." Sam laughed at Dean's poor attempt at a joke. Even he had to admit that it was kind of strange. Dean beamed at him and turned to Bobby. "Could you call him and invite him over so we can try to explain to him? The sooner we do it the better."
Bobby pulled out his cell phone and began dialling the number that Harry had given to him. "I suppose there really is no way to soften the news that you aren't dead and that you're not homicidal crazy people." Bobby hit the louder speaker button and laid the phone onto the table. As it rang, they all held their breath.
Bobby let out the breath he was holding and began to speak in a polite voice. "Hi Harry. It's Bobby. I was wondering if you wanted to come 'round and we can talk. I'm sorry about earlier – you caught me by surprise. We can talk about anything you want. I thought you might have some questions that I can answer."
The phone was silent. Dean glanced over at Sam and saw his own hope was reflected in his brother's puppy dog eyes. "Ok. I'll stop around. I do have some questions about my family that you might be able to answer for me. See you in a while."
The phone cut off and Bobby looked up at the two brothers. They both had mirrored expression that Bobby couldn't work out. "You two ok?"
"Yeah." Sammy still looked kind of dazed as he answered. "He called us his family."
Dean gave a goofy smile before snapping out of his daze. "We, erm, should make some coffee or something. He'll be here soon."
The three men were discussing how they should break it the kid when a knock at the door broke into their conversation. Sam and Dean stiffened and gripped the beers they had been nursing for hours even tighter. They relaxed slightly when Bobby rose and opened the door.
Harry stood in the doorway to the house where it opened into the kitchen and looked at the man before him. He really hoped that this Bobby could tell him something, anything, about his biological family. When he had first found out that he had uncles, he was so excited. But that didn't last long when he found out they were dead.
"Hi." Harry smiled at the man in front of him, grateful that he was helping Harry to understand his dead biological grandfather and uncles. He shifted his gaze off the man and saw two other men sat at the table, their backs to the doorway so Harry could only see the back on their heads. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise that you had company. I can come back later."
Bobby smiled at the teen before him. He was immediately charmed by the accent and pretty British manners that he was showing. "Don't be silly. They are here to help me explain about your family." He smiled at Harry.
Sam gave a sidelong glance at Dean, who seemed to be using all his self will not to turn around. Dean gave him a reassuring smile as they heard Harry and Bobby slowly approach the table that they were sat at. Sam reluctantly let go of his beer and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans before clutching his hands together in front of him on the table.
As they approached the table, Harry gave Bobby a genuine smile. He loved his parents but that didn't mean he couldn't find out where his mother came from and what kind of family he had, even if she hadn't wanted to. Sure, he had done his research, and some of the information that had turned up turned out to be less than perfect, but that was different to meeting people who knew the real Winchesters.
As Harry was deep in thought, Bobby had carefully taken a seat on the other side of the two strangers, who still had their backs to Harry, and was looking at him expectantly. Harry slipped into the remaining chair and looked up at the two other men. The polite greeting that was on his lips died instantly.
Harry was now looking at two dead men. But that wasn't what shocked him – hell, he went to a school where it was normal for a ghost to float past during breakfast. What shocked him was that they weren't ghosts and looked very much alive.
Dean could see the confusion on the kid's face as he looked between him and Sammy. He didn't blame the kid and wasn't surprised by it. He was stunned, however, when Harry's gaze froze like ice and he spat out, "What the hell is this?" His entire body was tense and he was clenching his fists.
"Listen, we only want to talk to you." Sam held up his hands to show that he meant no harm. "I know that this must be really confusing for you – I mean Dean and I are supposed to be dead."
Dean looked intently at the teenager in front of him as he slowly relaxed. "So," Harry's voice was unemotional, "you two somehow convinced the FBI that you are dead – twice."
"Erm, well," Sam looked over to his older brother for help. This wasn't going the way they wanted it to.
"Look kid, we aren't the crazy criminals that the FBI thought we were. There are some things you don't know." Dean said in a controlled voice.
Harry looked between the two of them, disbelief evident on his face. "What is there to know? You were suspected of being a serial killer, on top of multiple charges of horrible crimes like grave desecration."
"We're not who you think we are!" Dean could hear the desperate edge to his brother's voice. There was a soft thud as Sam let his head fall onto the table. The noise caused Harry to tense again and push his chair away from the table.
"That's it. I'm leaving." Harry stood and moved away from the trio at the table. "It was a bad idea anyway." He gave a humourless laugh. "I mean, trying to get to know my dead criminal family is one thing. Becoming part of their sick world is another."
"Wait!" Dean stood and gripped Harry's shoulder. The next moment, he found himself on his back on the hard floor. He had to admit that despite the circumstances, he was impressed with Harry's speed and skill in defending himself. "Ow, shit! That hurt!"
Harry let go of Dean and backed away. The brothers and Bobby could see his eyes widen as he saw that they were between him and the exit. His body tensed and he eyed them all wearily. Dean picked himself up off the floor and rubbed his shoulder where it had slammed into the floor.
"Look kid, we aren't going to hurt you." Sam looked desperately at his older brother, who was looking Harry up and down in an appraising way. Even Sam had to admit he was impressed with him. Not many people could knock Dean to the floor in one swift move.
"No." Harry shook his head. "I left England in the first place to escape people who manipulated and lied to me about who I was. I don't care if you are my relatives; I refuse to get involved in your strange beliefs and fantasies."
"Beliefs and fantasies? What are you talking about?" Dean asked nervously. "I think you have got us wrong kid."
"I've read the FBI file." Harry said quietly. "I know that you both suffer from delusions about demons."
"Look, there are some things in the world that you don't know about. Sometimes the things that go bump in the night are real." Bobby said bluntly. Seeing the disapproving glares from Sam and Dean, he retorted, "He needs to know and it is best to explain now before he tells the Feds that you are here."
A laugh broke into their argument before it could even start. "Sure, you have seen the things that scare little children before bed. Like I believe that mugg- that people like you have ever met these so-called creatures." Harry gave another sarcastic laugh but inwardly cursed himself for his slip of tongue. He knew that creatures existed, but how could muggles have found out about them? It was possible, but he had read the FBI file on the two brothers and some of it was pretty gruesome. Harry continued his effort in looking for an escape route. He backed further away from the three men in the room, who had edged closer still. "Name something you have hunted and how you would stop it and I might consider believing you." Harry threw at them sarcastically. He didn't want to hear anymore of their sick fantasies, but when he was annoyed or nervous, his sarcastic side came out.
The brothers glanced at each other. Sam sighed and turned towards his newly discovered young nephew. "A vampire." He blurted out.
"Everyone has heard of vampires." Harry retorted. He was considering just apparating out, but didn't want to draw the attention of the American Authorities. He would use it as a last resort.
"Yeah, but how many people could tell you that dead man's blood is lethal to them?" Dean watched the teenager before him carefully and noticed how he tensed when Dean had revealed the information about dead man's blood. He was about to ask him just what exactly he knew about the supernatural when a voice to his left sounded.
The three relatives in the room spun around to see where the sound had come from. Dean saw that Bobby had thrown himself back into his chair and was looking at Harry with sharp eyes. "I was just wondering how you knew about the supernatural, when it suddenly hit me. Your name is famous in some circles."
Sam looked between Bobby and the nephew, who was grimacing and glaring at the older Hunter. "Bobby? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Boys, you should meet your nephew. Harry James Potter, boy-who-lived, the Saviour, Chosen One. One of the most powerful beings in the world."