Harry James Summers
Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling, BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. I make no profit off of writing this.
Pairing(s): Joyce/Hank, (others to be determined, suggestions are welcomed)
Spoilers: BtVS season 6 “Bargaining Part 1 & 2”, HP post Book 5
Summary: His older sister is a Vampire Slayer; his younger sister is a former Key and he’s just Harry, until one day he’s not. Buffy finds out her normal brother isn’t normal at all and she must protect him from the megalomaniac that wants him dead.
A/N: I was blown away by the reaction I got to this story and instead of waiting to post this chapter I sent it to my beta and here it is. This chapter is longer than the other one and takes the story in a direction I know some of you weren't expecting, I hope you enjoy it anyways. Thank you for your reviews and let me know what you think.
Beta'd by the amazing Tanydwr who provided the very detailed and wonderful timeline for me to go by and found all the dates.Chapter 1 Harry James SummersMid-November 2000
Whistler stared at the house checking the slip of paper in his hand to make sure he had the right address. Number 4 Private Drive was completely identical to the houses next to it and, from what he had seen of the occupants, this champion of the Powers had got the short end of the stick as far as families went.
Tall, fanged, and broody hadn’t been given the heads up as far as families went – especially considering he killed his own – but once he had stepped up to being a Champion he had made his own.
The Slayer had a sucky calling, but as far as families went she had gotten lucky.
The Powers wanted to capitalize on that and had come up with one of their insane schemes that resulted in death threats - and always came crashing down. Unfortunately, it was his job to carry out their schemes.
His job had taken him here, to a place he was sure he had seen a hell dimension or two had been modeled after.
Whistler squared his shoulders and set his tribly black hat with a green ribbon had a jaunty tilt. He approached the house and knocked on it two sharp taps. It opened slowly and a young boy who could have been inspiration for a blimp faced him. He was pale with a mop of blond curls that looked glued to his large head and narrowed eyes.
“Hey, kid.” Whistler grinned. “Are your parents home?”
“Mum! Dad!” The kid turned, yelling loudly, and Whistler took the opportunity to slip into the house, the inside just as uninteresting as the outside.
The couple was so different it was laughable and Whistler did crack a grin at the sight the pair made. The father rivaled his son for weight and the mustache was truly frightening, while the women’s neck was reminiscent of a bird with eyes just as beady.
“Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying.” The man, Vernon Dursley, huffed practically waddling his way over to him and Whistler’s eyes narrowed. He was good at reading people and this man’s soul was so tarnished it saddened him; this was the part of humanity that he found hard to deal with.
It was his job to guide those few souls who the Powers claimed as their champions and every single one of them shone brightly, almost blinding in their intensity so much so that he forgot the other type existed. Not the evil ones, the ones that had a choice and still harmed the balance.
“Oh, I think you’ll be real interested.” Whistler replied burying his hands in his pockets and he turned to the mother, Petunia, who hovered on the edge of the scales tittering back and forth. “I am here to offer you a deal concerning your nephew, Harry.”
Vernon’s face flushed in rage, a vein throbbing, and Petunia paled, looking even more sickly. He had lost track of the boy, from what he knew Jr. Whale was probably playing some video game.
“Get out of my house!” Dursely drew himself up to look as threatening as possible and to a Balance Demon who had seen his share of century marks that wasn’t very.
Whistler continued his voice pitched low and urgent. “Here’s the deal, I can take you back in time to when Harry was left at your doorstep and you can drop him off at the place I tell you to. You do this and you would never have him in your life.”
“MAGIC!!!” Vernon yelled angrily, looking like he was about to combust, but it wasn’t him Whistler looked at. It was the young wizard’s aunt he watched closely, noting how still she went as her brow drew together in consideration. It was all up to her, if this was going to be done right he needed a blood relative.
It was always about the blood.
“We’ll do it.” She declared softly, her voice firm.
Her husband turned to her, stunned. Petunia met his eyes and he saw something in them more than the need to rid herself of a burden – compassion and the desire to give the boy she could never truly love something else, something better.
Vernon sputtered and argued, but her decision was made and it would not be changed. Using the abilities the Powers had granted him for this occasion, Whistler turned back time to a night where the wizarding world was celebrating and a young boy lay asleep on a doorstep a lighting bolt scar vivid on his forehead and a letter in his blankets.
Petunia grabbed him from the porch and a week later and a continent away, a young boy was left to a new life. Whistler had bent the truth, the past was changed, for the Dursleys, in their memories they would never raise Harry but that didn’t mean they hadn’t. It didn’t mean that that life had not happened.
It was simple, blood was what protected Harry, but that blood didn’t end with Petunia. There was one more relative; a distant cousin of Lily Potter, in the form of Joyce Summers and it took little effort to make the connection strong enough to work. After all, the monks had done it and they were nowhere in the league of the ultimate Powers.
Hogwarts was in uproar and few knew the true reason. All the students, minus a select few, had been made to gather in the Great Hall following emergency procedure – and this was definitely an emergency.
One student, a six-year boy in Gryffindor had gone missing and, while a disappearing student was always cause for alarm, this student was more than your average boy.
He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and number one or two to some enemy on Voldemort’s hit list.
He had been discovered missing the day before by his friends and, when he had failed to turn up in the morning, word had spread and panic had set in. The Headmaster and the Professors had gathered in an empty classroom along with Order members Tonks, Moody, Lupin, the Weasleys, and Harry’s closest friends, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.
Harry sat on the steps watching as his mom rushed back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, muttering under her breath and sorting through boxes. His eyes moved to the pale strip on her ring finger where her wedding band had rested and his throat tightened.
The rest of the skin around the area was tan, but the pale flesh was seeing the sun for the first time in years.
Dawn sat on the step below him, leaning her head on his thigh, and he could feel her tears soaking through his jeans. She hadn’t stop crying since their dad had walked out – her sobs had just gotten quieter.
He felt someone come up behind him and his older sister sank down beside him, her eyes dull as she watched their mother pack up the house that had been their home for years so that they could move to a new town, start a new life.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered softly as her hands moved through Dawn’s hair stroking it soothingly and he could see she was refusing to cry even though he could hear the tears in her voice “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Harry denied firmly showing a strong maturity for an twelve year old, but he could tell she didn’t believe him.
He knew why.
He was the only one that knew she was the Slayer.
“You look beautiful.” Harry told his sister, smiling as she did a small twirl for him in her white dress.
She ruffled his hair affectionately before turning back to the mirror her fingers playing with the silver cross necklace she wore.
“Thanks.” She replied softly, but he could see the way her eyes were haunted as she reached for the leather jacket she had brought home a couple of months ago, claiming a friend had given it to her.
The same friend he had saw in her room when he had followed his mom up there as she cleaned. He had been sick and had stayed home from school, catching a glimpse of the dark-haired man when he had slipped out of the closet.
“Please don’t leave.” Harry pleaded softly his voice cracking as he watched her pack.
She looked up at him tears in her eyes and her voice was broken.
“I have to, Harry.”
“No, you don’t!” He yelled desperately. “Mom will understand about you being the Slayer, just give her time!”
Buffy slung the bad on her shoulder shaking her head. “I can’t, I… just can’t.”
She was leaving and it felt like someone was choking him. “Take me with you then.”
She looked back at him repeating, “I can’t.” And he could see it, she really couldn’t give him this. His big sister, his hero, this was something she couldn’t give him. He could see the pain and hopelessness and his throat tightened as he made one more plea.
“Then come back, tell me you’ll come back?”
She paused before nodding jerkily “Okay, I’ll try.” And she was gone.
Harry stood in the doorway of the hospital room, watching as Dawn curled up on their mother’s side, Buffy on the other, and he felt out of place as fear and doubt assailed him.
“Harry.” His mom looked up with a bright smile, and the fear and doubt faded away as she held out her arms. He moved in between her and Buffy and meet Dawn’s eyes as he hugged their mom moving back and finding Buffy’s arm thrown around his shoulders.
They stood that way, the Summers family, and he felt hope that nothing, not a tumor or a hellgod was going to break them up.
The coffin was lowered into the earth, and Harry stood there numbly, close beside his little sister as they said goodbye to the woman that had raised them. He looked up, blinking back tears, and met Buffy’s eyes.
She had been so strong, taking care of them, taking care of everything, but he saw the pain he was feeling reflected in her eyes, and she slipped one arm around his waist, the other around Dawn’s as the priest droned on, his words lost to a family’s grief.
He slipped his arm around Buffy’s shoulders and he squeezed back, the fact hitting him that he was taller than her in a whole new light, she wasn’t the only one that had to be strong, she wasn’t the only one that could hold this family up.
Harry walked up beside Giles eyes going wide as he took in the still figure laying on the ground in front of them. Xander held Anya in his arms and Tara was leaning on Willow, but he was beyond their grief.
His eyes moved from his older sister’s body to the stumbling figure of his younger as she cried, still wearing the dress Glory had made her wear. He swallowed tightly, feeling sick, his heart screaming, and he moved forward to wrap on arm around her waist.
She leaned on him and bawled, but he couldn’t cry, he was numb.
He could fell Spike’s eyes on him, shrewdly watching his every move, but he didn’t care. Harry slumped down onto the sofa, hands buried in his pockets and glared at the space to the right of the vampire’s shoulder.
“Mind telling me what you were doing taking a night stroll in a cemetery bit?”
Harry grimaced. “Well, I could have gone during the day, but that would have defeated the whole purpose wouldn’t it?”
Spike’s eyes flared and suddenly he was standing in front of Harry, hand raising his chin so that their eyes met. “No more.” The vampire breathed out roughly. “I made a promise to your sis that I intend to keep.” Spike choked out. “You getting yourself dead goes against the whole protecting you thing.”
“I don’t need your protection.” Harry bit out savagely, yanking his head away.
Spike looked at him, and ever-present grief in his eyes, and his smile held no warmth.
“Yes, you do.”
Harry could feel the panic bubbling up in him as he rushed into the house after Spike. Dawn had taken off in the middle of a riot and he was worried for his little sister, he was frantic, and he was just a bit pissed off because the last thing they needed was her putting herself in danger.
He heard Spike call for Dawn and something in him relaxed when she replied. She was safe.
He frowned and barely blinked when he saw the Bot on the stairs, he had had to get used to it over the months. He hated it but he had to accept his presence in their home. He was about to head into the kitchen when he stopped, noticing the way Spike’s eyes changed, shifted, the grief melting away to be replaced by wonder.
Harry followed his gaze and he stilled, mouth going gaping open as he saw her, his sister, alive.
~*~Mid November 2001
“Harry!!!” Buffy yelled as she banged on her brother’s bedroom door. “Time for school.”
Harry groaned and flipped over, pulling the covers over his head. Giving up on trying to go back to sleep the sixteen year old yawned as he sat up in his bed reaching for his contacts case. Having such an appearance-conscious older sister, Harry had replaced his round glasses with contacts as soon as his mother had allowed him to and he had yet to regret it.
According to Buffy he had decent eyes, and that was a high compliment. Plus glasses had a nasty tendency of getting broken.
Harry pulled on a pair of dark blue jeans and grabbed a green shirt Willow had bought him, sniffing it to check that it was moderately clean and pulling it over his head. He stuffed his feet into a pair of shoes and grabbed the discarded bag on the floor before bouncing his way down the stairs, to where Buffy had made cereal.
“Harry, brush your hair.” Buffy ordered him before turning to Willow and Tara who were getting ready for their own classes.
Harry patted his hair down as best he could, and nudged Dawn who had settled onto the stool beside him. His little sister ran a critical gaze over him before shrugging her approval and reaching for the bowls, setting one in front of Harry and the other in front of herself. Harry grabbed the cereal box and poured it into the bowls watching as Buffy and Willow went over the latest demon his older super-powered sister had found on patrol.
His sister’s smile had dimmed since she had come back, but it was there.
Dawn shot him a look as she poured the milk and handed him a spoon, and Harry began to shovel sugary goodness into his mouth eating as only a teenage boy could.
Buffy turned from Willow and faced her siblings, putting on her ‘I’m the Adult’ face. “Xander will take you to school and pick you up, Dawn, finish your homework, and Harry, Giles needs you to help him go through the new shipment at the Magic Box.” Harry just nodded as he was reminded at how young his sister was and how now she was raising two teenagers.
Their mother had died months ago and since their dad was MIA Buffy had taken on responsibility for them. Her death had shaken them all up and Willow and Tara had moved in to care for them using the Buffybot as a front so they wouldn’t be taken away.
But then Willow had brought Buffy back and they were still adjusting. Sometimes he didn’t know what to say around her, he didn’t want to lose her again. He couldn’t lose her again.
“After, can we swing by Spike’s crypt?” Dawn asked smiling brightly her eyes hopeful.
“No.” Buffy said firmly, and Dawn pouted, causing Harry to snort into his cereal.
“Summers,” Xander announced loudly as he entered through the kitchen door, “I come bearing car keys.” He grinned, doffing an imaginary hat in Willow and Tara’s direction. “And my favorite witches.”
Harry smiled, but that smile turned into a grimace as his head ached and he grabbed at his forehead, feeling it burn hotly under his fingertips, causing him to cry out hoarsely. He fell off the stool, and he numbly felt Buffy beside him, her voice low and filled with concern. His fingers left the lighting-bolt-shaped scar he had had since before he could remember, and he shook his head.
“What’s the matter?” Buffy asked, worry making her voice sharp.
She had already dealt with so much: finding mom dead, caring for them, almost losing Dawn and dying to protect her from the hellgod Glory.
He didn’t want to worry her.
“Nothing.” He smiled weakly, ignoring the flashes of green he had seen behind his eyes. “Just a headache.”
The sinking sensation in his stomach told him differently.