Disclaimer: I claim no rights to the characters of Teen Wolf and Harry Potter. They belong to Jeff Davis and J. K. Rowling respectively.

Warnings: slash, explicit content, violence, blood, angst, drama, knotting, OOC, AU, moral ambiguity, scars, possible triggers

Special thanks to Velena Velaryon for being the best human in the world! Love you sweetie! Thank you for fixing my mistakes and making this story readable. XD

This will start at the end of season 3b and continue on into the fourth season of Teen Wolf, which I will NOT comment on. Consider this a thorough FIXING of the fourth season with the sweet joy of having Harry James Potter joining the fun.

Enjoy!

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The sound of a door being slammed closed echoed through the silence of the forest. Fallen autumn leaves crunched under military style boots, and it appeared as though all forest life ceased to move and produce sound as the newcomer stepped away from the sleek, black Hyundai Genesis parked in front of a burned down structure that was once the house of the biggest and strongest werewolf pack in Beacon Hills.

Eyes the color of grass in early spring gazed at the sorry sight with undeniable sorrow and weariness, and a grave sigh passed pouty, rose-colored lips as their owner pushed gloved hands in the pockets of a black leather jacket. A gust of cold wind danced around him and he hunched his shoulders to brace against the chill; taking slow, cautious steps towards the house.

The burnt floorboards of the front porch creaked under his heavy footsteps, and eyes trained to pick out the smallest of details roved over everything in clinical detachment. Thin, black eyebrows narrowed as he catalogued every single piece of information into his mind for later analyzing.

He entered the house, looking around, the frown marring his face growing darker as he walked into the living room, tracing the claw marks he found in one of the burned wooden pillars with the tips of his fingers before he brought the hand to his face and rubbed his lips in quiet agitation.

"Fuck it," he cursed under his breath, emerald gaze turning glassy, and he turned on his heel and all but ran out of the house, only years of experience and hard self-control stopping him from dropping his keys as he hurried to get into his car. He slammed the door closed, breathing as though he ran a marathon, gloved hands fisting around the wheel as he leaned forward and rested his forehead on the hard leather. He closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose before breathing out through his mouth, his legs hopping anxiously and every muscle in his body cramping up.

He let go of a choked up scream, straightened and slammed his fists against the steering wheel as tears he could no longer suppress trailed down pale cheeks.

"FUCK!" he roared, hitting his head back against the headrest, teeth bared as soul searing, choked up gasps passed his parted lips, and he fisted his hands on his forehead, gasping for air as he struggled to calm down. He pushed black, short tresses back with his hands before he rubbed his eyes to chase the tears away, and with jerky motions he started the engine, swallowing audibly and sniffing as tears refused to stop falling. He drove off of the Hale property and made his way into town, knowing that there was only one way for him to find out what happened.

He had to pay a visit to an old acquaintance.

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Every single head in the Beacon Hills Police Station turned and all conversation ceased when the front door opened to let in a man no one had ever seen before. The stranger stood at a respectable height, black leather giving him a dark, dangerous look and accentuating the cool pallor of his skin. Black, stylish glasses concealed his eyes, and short raven hair danced around his head, practically defying gravity in its wildness.

He pushed his hands in the pockets of his jacket and strutted over to the front desk, the police officer sitting behind it forcing herself to snap her mouth shut when the man raised his right hand and slipped his glasses off of the handsome face, looking at her with emerald eyes which seemed to see straight through to her soul.

"Good day," he spoke in a low, raspy, heavily accented voice; glancing around with that sharp gaze and making everyone turn away, feeling as though they were physically hit.

"Good day," answered officer Natasha Portman, licking her lips and straightening as she tried to offer the handsome stranger a smile.

"Does John Stilinski still work here?" he asked, bracing his left forearm on the desk, and Natasha cleared her throat, her eyes widening minutely and her senses tingling when the scent of the man's aftershave washed over her.

"You mean Sheriff Stilinski?" she blurted out and the man cocked an eyebrow, seeming slightly taken aback.

"Should be the same man," he said and Natasha nodded minutely. "Last time I've seen him he was still a deputy."

"Should I inform him that you're here to see him?" she asked.

"Is he here?" asked the handsome stranger, glancing towards the door leading into the back of the station where the office of the sheriff was stationed.

"He just came in." Natasha offered a wavering smile and the stranger's lips tilted up, although it lacked any mirth or happiness.

"Tell him Agent Potter's here to see him," he said and straightened folding the glasses he held in his right hand before he tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket, his gloved hands catching Natasha's attention before he tucked them inside the front pockets. "If he still remembers me, that is." The mysterious agent added dryly and turned his back on Natasha, walking over to the announcement board to give her time to fetch the Sheriff.

Natasha swallowed audibly and hurried around the front desk, all but running to the Sheriff's office, not really knowing what made her so anxious. The only thing she knew was that the man was something she had never encountered before.

And she didn't believe she ever wanted.

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"Are you two absolutely sure it's over?" John asked, looking at the sheepish faces of his son and his best friend.

Stiles and Scott exchanged a glance, with Stiles jerkily shrugging his shoulders, hands twitching on the armrests of the chair, his legs hopping in obvious anxiety, and Scott looked at the Sheriff again, chocolate brown eyes grave and yet full of relief at the same time.

"It's over," said the young alpha, nodding his head in confidence over their hard earned victory from dealing with their latest enemy. "The Nogitsune is gone. We've made sure of it."

John let go of a long sigh, sagging in his seat as he rubbed his face with his hands before they flopped onto the armrests of his chair and he huffed, lips tilting up into a smile full of relief as he looked at his son who licked his lips and shifted in his seat, trying to meet his father's gaze even though he kept glancing around the office anxiously.

"I'm just glad to have my son back," John spoke in a raspy voice and Stiles stilled completely while Scott hummed and smiled warmly at his best friend.

"It's good to be back, dad," Stiles answered, voice strained and broken, and John took a deep breath as he sat up in his chair.

"As much as I don't want to do this, I should really get down to…" three sharp knocks interrupted the Sheriff and the three men looked at the doorway. Officer Portman rushed in, not even waiting for an answer, and the three frowned at her winded appearance and wide eyes. "Portman?" John stood to his feet, hand immediately reaching for the gun resting on his table while Scott took a hold of Stiles' hand as though he was ready to pull Stiles behind himself and protect him at all cost.

"Sheriff, there's…" Natasha gulped and licked her lips, glancing around the office and over her shoulder before she looked at John, taking a deep breath before she spoke again. "There's a man here asking for you. He said he's Agent Potter."

Stiles and Scott looked at John, their eyes widening at the sight that met them. At first John looked confused, squinting at Natasha with lips slightly parted, and then his eyes widened, mouth falling open, and a sharp breath left his lips.

"Did you say Agent Potter?" he asked in clarification, letting go of the gun. Stiles glanced at Scott, completely taken aback by his father's choked up, hopeful tone. More than a little confused he and Scott engaged in a short wordless conversation on the matter that consisted on raised brows and small shoulder lifts. It ended with Stiles giving Scott and small head shake.

"Yes sir," Natasha answered, nodding her head fervently. "I'm positive he said Agent Potter."

A moment later Natasha had to jump to the side, because John literally ran around the table, almost tripping on the trash-bin in his hurry to leave his office. Had she not moved she almost certainly would have been taken down in the man's great haste to part from his office.

"Dad!" Stiles jumped to his feet and ran after John with Scott following close behind, and Natasha stood in the doorway for a minute, wondering what the hell happened. Curiosity won over though and she hurried out of the office, stopping in her tracks when Deputy Parrish called out to her.

"What happened?" The young officer asked with mild concern lacing his tongue as he put his gun in its holster, taking a gentle hold of Natasha's right forearm.

"There's a man here asking for Sheriff Stilinski, and…" she swallowed and shook her head. "See for yourself!" she snapped and ran away, Parrish following close behind.

They ran out into the front and stopped in their tracks right behind Stiles and Scott who stood several feet away from the Sheriff, all of them staring at the still figure standing in front of the announcement board apparently utterly at ease despite the tense atmosphere in the station.

"Harry?" John asked in a wavering voice, and Agent Potter turned around to face him slowly, clasping his hands behind his back as the right corner of his lips tilted up, eyes warming noticeably as a soft snort left his nose, and he stood at attention, saluting the Sheriff jokingly.

"Hey, John," he greeted, waving his right hand. "It's been a while."

Silence reigned over the room for a long moment, the Sheriff and the Agent standing at a stand still, and then it all broke. John let go of a sharp gasp and all but ran towards Harry, wrapping his arms around him in a tight, warm, welcoming hug.

Agent Potter appeared taken aback for a moment, but then he let go of a tight-lipped, quiet laugh and returned the hug, clapping John's back a few times before John pulled back and cupped Harry's face within a firm hold.

John's gaze darted over Harry's face, taking in each subtle change and he patted Harry's right cheek while the agent gave John's forearms a reassuring squeeze. "I can't believe it," John spoke tightly, stepping back to give Harry a good once over while the raven haired man raised his hands before they flopped to his sides, hitting against well formed thighs clad in skin tight black trousers.

"It's been years, you bastard!" John laughed and Harry shrugged, tucking his hands back inside his pockets with an utterly unapologetic stance.

"Time flies when you're having fun," he answered sarcastically, tone dry and voice raspy, and all mirth seemed to simply evaporate out of John's stance, his shoulders sagging and mouth falling open.

"Oh, shit…" he muttered and rubbed his lips with his right hand, left placed on his waist. "Come - come on," he moved forward and placed his right hand on Harry's back, leading him towards his office. "Everyone back to work!" John snapped at the crowd and everyone scurried away. "You two, with me." He pointed at Stiles and Scott who exchanged a glance and followed after John and the stranger.

They entered John's office and John closed the door behind them, turning towards Scott and Stiles while Harry walked around the office, taking everything in with an intense stare.

"I need you two to go home, alright?" John said, turning to Stiles and looking into his son's eyes. "We'll talk when I get home. You just get some rest, okay?"

"Dad…" Stiles took a step closer to John, glancing at Harry who seemed to be busy studying one of the boards in John's office with the current unsolved case. "Who is he?"

John swallowed audibly and glanced over his shoulder at Harry before he looked at Stiles again. "An old friend," he spoke quietly. "I'll tell you everything when I get home, alright?"

Stiles' lips pressed into a thin line, and his arms jerked as though he wanted to take a hold of his dad, but a hand on his shoulder made him look at Scott who shook his head at his best friend. Stiles took a deep breath through his nose, pushing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans and nodded at his dad.

"Alright," he blurted out. "But call if you need us."

John snorted and squeezed Stiles' shoulder. "Don't worry about me, alright? Go. I'll see you later."

Stiles nodded and pulled his dad into a tight hug before he and Scott left the office, but not before casting one last wary glance at Harry who had sometime during their conversation moved over to the window and leaned back against the windowpane, hands firmly buried in the pockets of his jeans.

The moment the door closed behind Stiles and Scott, John fixed the plastic shutters so no one could see into his office and turned to face Harry who gifted him with a strained smile. John took a deep breath and rubbed his head with his hands, searching for the right words to say while Harry watched him with an unreadable stare.

"Damn it, Harry…" John breathed out, fisting his hands on his waist, not knowing what to say.

Harry pushed away from the windowpane, taking a step forward as he raised his arms and crossed them over his chest, all confidence fading away into nothing as he licked his lips, swallowed and sucked on his teeth, shifting his weight and glancing around the office, eyes glassy as he tried to fight back the tears that had stopped falling while he sat in his car in front of the Station debating whether he should go in or not.

"John, I…" Harry choked out, raising his hands to brush his hair back before he gasped and shook his head, flailing his arms as he avoided looking at John. "What the hell happened here?" he breathed out, and not knowing what else to do John hurried over to Harry and wrapped him in a warm embrace, cupping the back of Harry's head with his left hand and tucking the agent's head under his chin.

"Damn it," John pressed out the curse through his teeth as Harry quietly sobbed into his shoulder, the back of John's uniform crumpled within Harry's fists as the younger man held on to him for dear life. "You should have come here first," John bit out, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, gasping heavenwards, his own eyes filling with tears. "You should have come here first."

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Harry gifted John with a small, strained smile and accepted the cup of warm coffee John held out to him before he joined Harry on the couch, cradling his own mug in his hands. "Thank you," murmured Harry in a strained whisper and took a sip, eyes slipping closed as he swallowed the warm drink and let go of a wavering sigh. "I'm sorry for barging in unannounced and for…" he flipped his right hand towards John and the wet patch which was slowly drying on John's right shoulder, cleverly hidden from curious eyes by the open collar.

"Harry," John licked his lips and shook his head, squinting at Harry in remaining amazement for seeing him after so many years, alive and well none the less. "Harry, what happened?" he asked, leaning forward while Harry sat back with a grave sigh, resting his head back on the wooden pane of the indoor window of John's office. "You disappeared in the middle of the night! We searched for you for weeks!"

"I know, John, and I'm sorry," Harry spoke, forcing down a heavy swallow as he shook his head. "Explaining everything would take so much time and I - I can't…" his voice broke and he covered his eyes with his left hand, lips turning downwards as he choked out a breath. "I knew that the chances of him waiting for me were nonexistent, but I didn't know I'd find him…" Harry swallowed the word, jumping to his feet and pacing the office after he placed the cup of coffee on John's desk.

"You went to the Hale house," John concluded the obvious, rubbing his face with his right hand, his mug dangling from his left. "You've seen it."

"I've seen the burned out shell of what could have been my home!" Harry snapped, jerking back from almost slamming his fist into a wall, and wrapping his left hand around it, curling his arms into his chest as he paced to the other side of the office, huffing as he raged.

"It happened 10 years ago, Harry," John spoke, even though he knew his words would do little to comfort the agent. "I've only recently found out who the culprit is. It was a hate kill. A very well concealed hate kill." He bit his tongue to stop himself from revealing the facts about the Hales he had only recently found out - and still had trouble believing sometimes - and stood up, looking at Harry when he stopped pacing and turned to face John.

"Who would want to kill them?!" Harry pressed out through his teeth, looking at John with wide, frantic eyes. "They never hurt anyone!"

John placed his mug of coffee beside Harry's cup and took a firm hold of Harry's shoulders looking deep into eyes John was absolutely certain were unique in their shade and shape. "Harry, you know just as well as I do that there are people out there who don't need valid excuses to do evil things." Harry huffed and raised his hands, clasping them in front of his face and resting his forehead on his joined fingers.

"I just can't understand it, John," he whispered weakly. "There were - there were children in there! When I - when I heard about the fire, when I - when I found out, I had hoped it was a lie, that it was some sick joke, but today when I went there, I…"

Harry's hands fell to John's chest and he looked into the Sheriff's eyes, and John had to hold on to every single piece of self-control and determination as not to cry at the obvious desperation seen in that emerald gaze.

"Harry, it was a tragedy," John whispered gravely, covering Harry's hands with his own. "But you need to understand that you couldn't have done anything even if you were here." Harry's expression fell and he stilled completely, hardly breathing at all as his gaze dulled. "The whole city mourned for them, and the culprit paid for what she did, believe me."

John didn't want to mention that Kate Argent paid for it with her life, knowing Harry didn't need to hear that right now. What John had to do was to calm Harry enough to be able to send the man off until later that day so that they could sit down and go through everything in peace.

"She?" Harry asked weakly and took a step back, hands fisting by his sides as he swallowed heavily. John frowned when a shadow passed over Harry's eyes, strong shoulders squared and every muscle in that lean body coiled as though Harry was ready to pounce.

"Yes, Kate Argent was found out as the culprit," John said, receiving a completely different reaction to the one he thought he would get.

Harry stilled completely, thin, black eyebrows narrowing as his lips parted in honest confusion. "Kate Argent?" he asked as his nose wrinkled slightly and he ducked his head, looking at the floor as he rolled the newfound information around in his head.

"Yes," John said, breaking Harry's trail of thoughts by placing a hand on his back and leaning forward to look in Harry's eyes. "Now, I suggest you get some rest and meet up with me at my place when I finish my shift, okay? You need time to think over everything, and I don't want anyone to disturb our talk. I'll tell you everything tonight."

Harry nodded, looking around as he rubbed his hands against his thighs, blinking as though he just then realized where he was. He took a deep breath through his nose and let it go through his mouth before he rubbed his face with his hands and brushed them through his hair.

"You're still at the same address?" he asked John and the Sheriff nodded.

"Where will you be staying?" he asked and Harry shook his head.

"I've arrived to Beacon Hills maybe three hours ago," he said. "I need to find a hotel." John frowned at the man, brushing his right hand through his hair with his left hand on his waist.

"How long do you intend to stay?" John asked and Harry raised his hands, hitting them against his thighs.

"I kinda don't have anywhere else to go," he spoke quietly and John froze up for a second, before he shook his head.

"I can't talk about this right now," he muttered and placed his left hand on Harry's shoulder, raising his right and accenting every word with a pointed gesture. "Now, listen to me. Go to the closest hotel, get yourself a room, take a shower, a bath - whatever - and get some sleep. I'll call you when I'm done and you'll come over to my place. I have a free guestroom you'll be staying in until you find a place for yourself, okay?"

Harry nodded minutely, swallowing heavily as John gently patted Harry's chest and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Okay," Harry whispered, sucking on his teeth as he nodded again. "Okay."

He moved away from John and rubbed his face with his hands, breathing deeply for a few moments before he glanced around the office and walked over to the table. He took a piece of paper and a pen and jutted down his phone number before he handed it over to John who accepted it and put it into the back pocket of his pants.

"I'll see you later," Harry muttered and pulled his glasses out of the inside pocket of his jacket, but before he could leave, John grabbed him and pulled him into another hug, shocking Harry for a moment again.

"It's good to see you again, Harry," John whispered as he patted Harry's back. "Despite everything, it's good to see you again."

Harry clapped John's back with his left hand before he pulled back and attempted to smile, failing miserably. "It's good to see you again too, John," he said and put his glasses on. "See you," he muttered and left John's office, closing the door on his way out.

John sighed and placed his hands on his waist, taking a look around his office before he rubbed his face with his right hand, covering his mouth with it as he shook his head.

"Things just keep getting complicated," he muttered into his chin before he took a seat at the table hoping to get some work done, but a part of him knew that he would most definitely get nowhere. Never the less, with a deep intake of breath, John started on the massive amount of paperwork waiting for him, hoping to get at least half of it done before the end of his shift.

It was a fools hope to say the least.

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Tell me what you think so far, kay? And of course, I'd like to know if you want more.

This has been rolling around in my mind for a few weeks now, and I really hope you guys will like it! :D

All my love,
Ms. Yuki