Chapter 2 - Harry and Mr Grimm

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

AN: Don't take this too seriously. I don't. *Follow The Bouncing Muse.*

Beta'd by Scarletdewdrops.

... ... …

Damien jerked awake in his seat when he heard what sounded like a car backfiring in the other room. Or maybe it was a gunshot? It was the latter that made him wary. Extracting himself from his desk chair, tangled with his headset cable and blanket, he grabbed the gun he kept strapped to the underside of his table and went to the door.

Glancing around the corner, he could hear a strange rattling sound? and noticed what looked like a small mountain of coats and blankets that was slightly dripping onto his admittedly dirty carpet.

"Hold it," Damien aimed his gun, but the person didn't listen at all, spinning around to reveal… "Blaine?"

"S-s-s-irius?"

"Who?"

"Wait-t… D-d... Damien, right-t-t?"

That's when it finally clicked for the man and he lowered his gun. "Harry!?"

… … …

So, slowly apparating across the ocean absolutely sucked. It sucked bollocks. It sucked Satan's bollocks, or Mordred's bollocks, or something. It was just really, really bad.

The first few jumps had been just fine. Harry had to rest once he got to Prince Edward's Island. He ate a huge meal, using the cash he had been given by Charles' and Pam. The food was different, but at the same time, familiar? Either way, it was delicious and heavily fish based.

It was once Harry got to Greenland that he started to have some troubles. He misjudged the jump from Torngat National Park and landed waist-deep in snow. Immediately throwing on some warming charms helped to melt the snow-that's when Harry realized he'd taken a chunk of ground with him, oops, and dug himself out.

Now wet, shivering, and exhausted, Harry decided to transfigure himself a little hollow with the snow around him and curl up for a nap.

He woke up to find himself buried in snow. A tempus charm revealed ten hours had passed since he arrived in Greenland.

"The fuck?" Harry grunted, hardly able to move. Taking a moment to zip himself tighter into both the jacket and the sleeping bag, he wriggled a bit and then apparated to the surface.

At least he thought it was the surface.

He misjudged and went rolling down the side of his little hole for about 3 meters before he finally stopped.

Harry groaned and wiggled some more to get his arms free. After eating some energy bars, he didn't bother moving and just apparated from where he was to Iceland.

Taking a giant pile of snow with him.

He kind of passed out on the spot.

At least he woke up faster than the last time he'd… tripped… after his body decided an apparate was one too many. The knowledge that Harry only had two jumps left helped to push him to full consciousness, scarf down two more energy bars, and then apparate to Scotland.

He landed in a fucking tree. The branch he was on broke and he tumbled to the ground and sighed. Of course, the forest was different than he remembered because he was in a different fucking universe.

Harry sighed, still wrapped in his coat and sleeping bag. He glanced to his left and saw what may have been castle ruins, but at the moment, he really didn't care.

Forcing himself to his feet, Harry clung to his wet sleeping bag and disappeared.

When he reappeared and had a gun pointing at him, it was just the icing on this shit fuck of a cake.

Yeah, there was a gun in his face.

A gun. IN HIS FACE.

What an unfortunate series of events.

… … …

"Ff-f-f-f-fffucking Greenland," Harry mumbled around chattering teeth, shaking in the seat Damien had forced him into. "Should have realized doing other magic would fuck up the apparation…" He had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders because even though it was the beginning of May, England was drafty. Or at least Damien's place was. Despite the man walking around without bottoms on.

That had been a sight. Sirius Black holding a gun in just boxer shorts and a hoodie. Except it wasn't Sirius Black. This was Damien White and he was now Harry's older brother.

"Maybe the cold had something to do with it too. You look blue," Damien handed over a cup of hot chocolate, which he had contemplated spiking, but decided against it. Pam already disliked him enough without him getting her new son drunk.

"Literally blue, or metaphorically blue?" quipped Harry, taking a big swallow of his drink and shuddering.

"Literally. Metaphorically I'd say red. With anger." Damien smirked and sat down. Thankfully he'd put trousers on when he went to make the drink, and now Harry could enjoy his warm beverage without the awkwardness of a man running around in his drawers, even if it was his own home.

Harry snorted at the joke because laughing required the body to be capable of exhaling steadily and he was shivering way too hard for that to happen in any respectable manner.

"Yeah, anger… anger is right," Harry paused to take another huge gulp of the hot chocolate. Even here, chocolate was like some kind of magical fix-all and he was feeling better already.

Damien observed him and leaned back into his chair across from the teen. "Want to complain about it?"

"Complain?"

"Yeah, it's like talking but with more cursing."

Harry laughed, starting to feel warmer. "I misjudged a few of my jumps-you. You know what those are, right?"

"Yeah, Charlie told me about it."

"Well, okay. I misjudged them. I fell asleep in a Greenland, the trip over the water took a lot out of me. And when I woke up, I was covered in snow."

"Wait wait," Damien held up a hand. "'I was covered in fucking snow.' Try it like that."

The wizard laughed some more, now that he could, and nearly finished his hot chocolate. "I was covered in fucking snow," he repeated dutifully.

"Much better. Continue."

"Well…"

… … …

"So, why did you pull a gun on me?" The pair were in the kitchen. Harry insisted on cooking. It was like some weird coping mechanism, to feed those who were taking care of him. He blamed Mrs. Weasley. And just thinking about her made him miss his world…

But, no. Shake off the melancholy Harry, this was his new life now.

"What?" Damien was washing the dishes almost as quickly as Harry could make them. It was weird, for someone to do that for him.

"The gun. You had a …" Harry gestured ineffectually. "You had a gun."

"Oh." Damien paused for a few seconds, just thinking that over. Then he shrugged. "I always keep a gun in my office. In my line of work."

Harry looked at Damien out of the corners of his eyes. "What do you do exactly? Hacker?" Not that he was 100% sure what that was.

"I work for MI6. Do you know what that is?"

A moment. Then Harry shook his head.

"Honestly?"

"Yeah, I haven't been in the Muggle world since 1991."

Damien looked at him incredulously. "I'm pretty sure MI6 started before then."

"Yeah, but I was a kid. Why would I have -what even IS it?"

"Do you know the FBI? CIA?"

"Yes, those I'm familiar with."

"It's like that."

Harry considered and then turned away from his pot of food. "You're a secret agent?"

The man at the sink struck what he thought was an epic pose. Harry laughed at him.

"Mean," Damien dropped the pose and went back to cleaning. "But yeah, basically. I don't go into the field and track down people. I'm just a man at a desk." He shrugged, setting a dish onto the rack to dry. "I hack things, but for the government now."

Unsure of himself, Harry hesitated before asking, "What is hacking?"

Once again, Damien paused in thought. "You really don't know?" After Harry shook his head, he added, "Kid, we've got so much more to teach you than just algebra."

… … …

And that's how Harry's days turned into an endless cycle of perfecting Occlumency, and then going through Muggle school books, then back to make sure he was doing his Occlumency correctly, and back to Muggle studies.

It was a terrible routine and before Harry realized it, it was June. Bored, sitting at a desk in the same room as Damien, he looked up at the man who had just finished doing some business with work.

"Why do you let me stay in here?" Harry asked once the man had hung up and took off his headset.

"What?"

"In here. While you work. Why do you let me stay? Aren't you worried that I … I don't know, that I'll overhear something that I shouldn't? Speaking of, you work for the government. Isn't finding someone who can do real magic something you should be telling your... your boss or something?" Harry built up steam as he was talking, going from his hunch of studying to upright with indignation.

Once the teen wizard had stopped speaking, Damien asked, "Are you done?" Harry nodded. "Okay, good. Listen up here, Glinda, one of the reasons I let you stay here is because if anybody needs to learn how to keep secrets, it's you.

"The second reason I let you stay," Damien counted off on his hand, "is so that I can help you if you have any questions, and if I don't know the answer my 5 computers are right here to help us out."

He smirked at the teen now and leaned onto his desk to get a better look at him. "The last, and most important reason is that you're family. Nothing is more important to me than family and you and Reggy are it. Well," Damien waved a hand, sitting back in his chair. "I have other people too, but you two are my brothers! Nothing is more important than that."

Harry sat with his mouth hanging open for a while, just numbly blinking at the man. Then, "Did you call me Glinda?"

"That's all you got out of that?"

"No, that's just what I'm addressing first."

The pair shared a chuckle.

"Glinda, the good witch from the Wizard of Oz," began Damien. Harry nodded-he knew who she was. He understood that reference. "Because you're a wizard."

"But she's a girl. And a witch. I'm a wizard."

"It was just meant to be funny, move on."

"Alright, moving on. I understand what you mean about me having to learn how to keep secrets," Damien nodded this time to Harry's words. "The Occlumency helps with that. At least the book says it will. I knew someone who was basically a double agent and he could lie to the most powerful, evil man ever."

"Your Dark Lord, who you defeated before coming here."

Harry nodded. "Lied straight to his face. I saw him do it."

Damien's entire face was a question mark.

"I'll explain later."

"You'd better."

"Anyway, questions. I haven't asked you one yet."

"Doesn't mean I'm not waiting, brother mine," Damien flashed him a smile and Harry flushed, totally unused to being referred to so casually as family.

Swallowing to try to get that blush under control, Harry nodded, "All right, got it. Ask more questions."

"Please do. I have five computers, plus two laptops here, and yours is on the way."

With his mouth open to address something else, the teen stopped and stared. "You got me a laptop?"

"Of course, what self-respecting teen with rich parents doesn't have a laptop?"

Once more Harry's mouth flapped helplessly.

"Come on, Harry, this is nothing for someone like me. I rarely spend my money on stuff. Except computers"

Slowly, the wizard nodded, face red all over again… and he gave a shy little smile.

Unable to resist the urge, Damien got up and went over to the teen and ruffled his wild hair.

"Come on, it's time for a break from your schoolwork. Time to get back to your education on the 21st century. I know Blaine will have the music completely covered by the time you get back, but I'm going to cover everything else."

And before Harry could complain more, he was pulled out of the room.

… … …

Standing in front of this building was kind of terrifying.

"Catch."

Harry yelped when something shiny was tossed towards him and he caught it on reflex. "Damien! This is a cell phone! You don't just throw these around!"

"Why not? I knew you'd catch it. You have the best reflexes I've ever seen, and that's saying something, considering who I work with."

He gave a little nod when Damien said that, then looked at the phone, turning it around in his hand. It was different from the one that Blaine had-this one all screen, where Blaine's had been half keyboard. He turned it over, curious as to where they'd put the keyboard, but didn't see one and it didn't have seams that would indicate it would open. "What kind of phone is this?"

"The new iPhone 3GS. It's a few days early, but I called in a favor." Damien was smirking. "Think of it as a reward for doing well."

The teen groaned, dropping his head back. "Now I'm going to bomb them and I'll have to give this back."

"You don't have to give it back, Harry. Every teen should have a phone. Besides, this way you can call me when you're done."

"You're not sticking around?" asked Harry as he poked at the screen with a hesitant finger. He unlocked it easily, thankfully, but it was just… all screen.

"Nah," Damien waved him off, "I've got shit to do, and you'll be here for a few hours."

"Ugh," groaned Harry, "Don't remind me."

"It's just your GCSEs."

"THAT'S!" he started by yelling but his instinct to not draw attention to himself made him drop the volume to a hiss, "that's exactly the problem! The only things I have even a little confidence in are languages and maths! And I still have no idea why maths is so bloody easy!"

"Maybe because you're smart?" Damien offered, dropping a hand onto Harry's head and ruffling his hair forcefully. "Calm down. You'll do great. And if you don't do great? We'll take 'em again."

"You say 'we' like you have to sit in there with me," Harry snarked back, but then his entire being deflated, and he shoved the phone into his pocket. "I still don't understand why I have to take them here. I've done everything else at your flat."

"It's all part of the experience."

"You're a git."

"Yes, but I'm your older brother. I'm supposed to be a git, now go, before you're late." Damien waved his hands to shoo Harry along.

"They start when I get there, this is a special test you organized just for me."

"Indulge me, won't you? This is my version of dropping you off for your first day at school." Damien asked, pushing Harry towards the building. "You have everything? Pencils, notebooks, lunchbox?"

The wizard rolled his eyes, hefted his messenger bag which did include a lunch, and left. Damien shook his head and got into his car and drove away.

… … …

The tests were really hard. Harry dragged his rotting carcass out of the room and pulled out his phone. He had a few false starts since he had no idea how to use this thing-at least it was pretty intuitive. The thing that looked like a phone was the call button, Damien's name was in his phone as Mr. Grimm. (Harry had learned that this name was Damien's handler name, derived from his old hacker name. He used to leave a calling card that had a picture of a Grim Reaper reading a newspaper that said, "You've been hit by Grimm News". Harry thought his new brother was an absolute nerd.) The call button was green, and green meant go.

Stumbling down the steps of the building he'd taken the tests in, he finally found a bench and collapsed, head in one hand, the other holding his new phone to his ear. He could hear it ringing.

"Talk to me."

"I hate you so much," Harry replied when Damien answered. "That was four hours of hell. Not even my OWLs were this bad, and I had a fucking vision in the middle of my history test."

"Oh pft, it couldn't have been that bad."

"It could be and it was and I hate you. I don't know if I want to be your brother anymore."

"I'm pretty sure you don't have a choice in the matter," laughed Damien. Harry could hear traffic in the background. "I'm about ten minutes away," the man said, anticipating Harry's question.

"I'll just sit here and melt into the bench."

"You're being melodramatic. Not even Blaine is this melodramatic."

"Well, I'm not Blaine." Harry attempted to hang up on Damien but he failed a couple of times and heard the man laughing at him. That was ten minutes of stewing in an embarrassed-state.

When Damien pulled up, he was driving a different car than before. After nearly six weeks with the man, Harry didn't question it anymore.

"Get in, Glinda, we're going shopping."

"Shopping? Damien, no, you've bought me too much. First the laptop, and now this cell phone…" Harry shifted uncomfortably, but at the look Damien gave him he got in and buckled his seatbelt obediently.

"I'm your older brother. I haven't taken care of you for fifteen years. It's my duty to spoil you now."

Harry gave him a weird look; they were rarely that open about the 'cover story' but then Damien mouthed the words 'go with it' and the wizard realized something was up. Maybe the car? "I know, but still…"

"No buts! You have like 3 shirts and they're all just your old uniform. You can't keep borrowing my medieval hand-me-downs. Now, shopping." Damien stepped on the gas.

That was a strange lie, but Harry let it go. Though, he did only have three shirts. They were Blaine's. It's possible that Harry and Damien were supposed to go shopping a lot sooner than now. Or that he was supposed to be back in the USA. He hadn't had that much contact with them since he left.

With that thought in mind, Harry opened up the phone again and found Blaine's number already programmed in. A few minutes of single finger poking got a simple "Hi its harry" sent off. The series of rapid fire messages he got in reply should have been expected.

omg HI

U finally got a phone?

Who got it for u? Coz Damien? What kind is it? Is it better than mine? I bet its better than mine

Im so jealous I wanna new phone but dad said no

Whatd u get?

Harry?

HARRY?

Because Harry was so slow at replying, it took him a while to respond.

Yes. Damien. Apple? I think?

"Who you messaging?"

Harry almost dropped the phone, he startled so bad. "Just-... Blaine."

Damien muttered something about 'changing Harry's plan' then said aloud, "What does my dapper Blainey-boo have to say?"

"A lot," observed Harry, staring down at his screen. "I've…" Mindful of the cover story, Harry continued, "never really had someone this enthusiastic to message me… to… get to know me." It wasn't a lie but worded carefully to apply to the situation.

Damien flashed him a huge grin for his efforts.

Eventually, they arrived at a place called Bluewater. It looked huge and absolutely ridiculous and Harry was instantly overwhelmed.

Leaving the car in the free parking garage, Damien dragged Harry around between the stores for about an hour. How, in an hour, he managed to get several large bags of clothes was a complete mystery.

Sitting at a cafe, Damien sipped casually at his tea. The keys to their car were conspicuously placed on the fake fence that marked the edges of the outdoor cafe. Damien had his cell phone there too, so Harry didn't think much of it.

Until someone swiped both items.

Harry's eyes went wide and he made to get up, but Damien held a finger to his lips. He then produced a new key from his pocket, waved it at Harry, then tucked it away again.

"So, I think we should go to one more shop."

"What?" Harry was so confused he didn't understand the question.

"Yeah. I think you need a suit. You've got plenty of casual clothes, you may as well be a walking ad for this season. But a suit? A nice suit? That'll last you until your growth spurt."

It took a few moments for Harry's brain to catch up to the conversation. "If…" He looked curious and when Damien nodded at the unspoken question, he continued. "If it's the same as last time, it will be around the time I'm 17."

"Ah, late bloomer. Charlie was too, but look at what a weed he turned out to be?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head and asked, "Do you think I'll turn out like that?"

"If you do, you do, if you don't then you don't. No need to worry about it now," Damien shrugged dismissively, eyes locked onto Harry's hair. "We can do something about that mop, though. Come on, we're going to the barber before we go to the tailor." He set down his teacup and rose to his feet. After grabbing several of the bags, he grabbed Harry's arm and forced him to follow along.

It was another couple of hours before they were done at Bluewater. The car they went to was on the complete opposite end from where they had parked before. Harry wasn't sure if he was allowed to ask about it, so he just shoved his new stuff into the trunk of this SUV, their third vehicle of the day, and got into the passenger's seat.

His phone was pulled out once he was seated, and buckled (after another glare from Damien-safety first, kids), and he looked at it. "Blaine sent me ten new messages."

"Really? That's going to be expensive for Cousin Charlie. You should warn him about that. Your number is British and attached to my plan currently. Well, it is now. You can send as much as you want, my work covers it."

Harry turned to Damien and then back his phone. He shrugged his shoulders and slouched into the seat. "That… makes me… uncomfortable…" he muttered all of this out slowly. Damien had been trying so hard to get Harry to speak out about his feelings in the few weeks they'd been together, but the teen still clammed up sometimes.

"I know it does, but you have to accept that we care about you and want to look after you. I only know how to do that by throwing money at you. Didn't you say your dogfather did the same thing?"

A tiny smile worked it way onto Harry's face and he nodded. "He got me the best, most expensive broom on the market. I loved my Firebolt… I wish I had it with me while I was on the run…"

"You didn't?"

"No, it got destroyed."

Damien side-eyed Harry for a moment. "Destroyed is a big word. Strong word. Not like broken, like, oops, I tripped and broke my broom. Destroyed implies malicious intent."

"Well, they were trying to kill us." Remembering that that night was also when Hedwig died caused Harry to frown even more. It was sad to think of the loss of his first friend… His godfather's gift… everyone else...allhisfriends…

"What you thinking there, Glinda?"

Harry forced himself to sit up, staring at Damien from behind Blaine's glasses and then down to the phone in his lap. He clenched his jaw then let out an explosive breath. "My friends I left..."

"Ah."

They'd already had this conversation before. Several times. Damien was good at dealing with emotions, but Harry's emotional baggage had emotional baggage of its own. In fact, the emotional baggage's emotional baggage even came with a matching purse and carry-on. It was a little out of his reach.

Maybe it was time to call in backup?

… … …

The mostly failing grades weren't a huge surprise to Harry. A disappointment? Yes. A surprise? No.

What WAS a surprise was when Harry walked into the kitchen to find Damien pressing who could only be Remus' double against the wall, mauling his neck with lips and teeth, saying, "My Mine, I'm so glad you came," in a sing-song voice.

"Oh bugger," Harry immediately turned around, feeling himself flush completely-even his chest and back felt hot-and ran back to the room he was staying in.

"Damien White, you are the absolute WORST!" Harry could still hear Remus' double and he covered his ears, not sure he could he handle ANOTHER person who was alive here, but dead in his world.

It took the pair about fifteen to finally knock on Harry's door. His teeth hurt from clenching his jaw so much. Occlumency wasn't helping and his brain just felt like it was running on high. He needed…

"Harry?" the not-Remus man said through the closed door, "You don't know me, but my name is Miles. I'm Damien's friend."

He did NOT need this.

Falling off of the bed, he snatched up his wand and apparated out of there.

… … …

Damien cursed when he heard that gunshot in the room, opening the door to find it empty.

"What was that?"

"I'll explain later. Maybe. I don't know, I have to talk to the kid." Damien ruffled his hair in frustration. "I don't understand. That's pretty much a right of childhood, right? He never had the chance to be traumatized by it before, and here we were: the perfect opportunity. He's even lucky he didn't catch us in bed, just necking a bit. But it's part of being a normal kid. Shouldn't we be happy and laughing?" The hacker tugged at his hair, "Why did he run away?"

"There's probably something else at play here, Damien," Miles tried to explain, even though he had no idea what was going on.

"I just hope he has his phone with him," replied Damien, pushing off from the wall after he closed the door and going to his office. "I can at least track him that way."

"You didn't."

"Of course I did." He added to himself that any self-respecting adult with a teleporting kid would, but said aloud, "That's pretty basic for hackers, keeping track of loved ones. I have one in yours too." Miles looked affronted. "Your car too."

"Damien."

"What?! I need to know where you are, okay? It's just the way I am. You should know that by now." He threw himself into his desk chair and took the entire system out of hibernation mode. He also opened up one of his laptops.

Miles sighed and grabbed the extra chair in the room, taking a seat next to Damien. "I do know. We did grow up together."

Damien opened his mouth to chant the Eton Boating Song, but Miles' covered it before he got the chance. He still smirked and licked the hand. If Damien's parents had thought that going to an all-boys school would curb his flirting habits, well, joke's on them.

"You're disgusting."

"Dirty, not disgusting. And you love it, Milly."

"Don't call me that, you know I hate it."

"Probably why I still call you it, My Mine," and Damien dived into the net to find where Harry had gone.

… … …

Harry stumbled when he landed, stumbling over a tree root and smashing into the trunk of another.

"Ow," he stated plainly, looking up to where he had landed. The jump had been made desperately, so the fact that he had landed in the forest near those castle ruins in Scotland wasn't very surprising.

After righting himself, Harry walked out of the forest and stared at the castle. The stones were all wrong. Even the color of the brickwork was wrong. Everything was in a different place. There was no lake.

This wasn't Hogwarts.

Yet it ached like it was.

… … …

Damien brushed off all of Miles' questions about how Harry was all the way in Scotland, realizing that he probably should have kicked his friend out of his office before he booted up that program, but had been a bit too distressed to think clearly.

Miles usually had that effect on him. And apparently Harry too. Come to think of it, Reggy could do it as well.

Huh.

Anyway.

Harry didn't return for nearly three hours and when he did it was obvious the boy had been crying, but he also looked… … Dare he say, RELAXED?

"Welcome back." He tried to appear nonchalant, sitting at his kitchen table with his legs in Miles' lap, chewing on pizza.

"Hi. I'm sorry," Harry apologized immediately, eyes on the ground. "He's another double." The 'he' was obvious without the gesture Harry added. "Another dead double."

Damien winced and Miles looked ridiculously curious now.

"I'm sorry too," offered Damien, "I guess I should have warned you. But…" Harry's eyes looked up but his face didn't. "It's probably going to keep happening."

"I know, it's just…" Harry dropped into another chair at the table. "Remus was one of the last links I had to my parents. Before the final battle, he made me the godfather to his son, Teddy. And then he died. And then I disappeared. I abandoned Teddy the same way Sirius abandoned me, and now he has NO ONE-"

"Harry," Damien interrupted, followed by, "Deep Breaths." but that was from Miles. "Also, Miles doesn't know everything about you. He knows the cover."

That one word helped a lot click into place for Miles.

Harry looked up in shock, mouth forming a comical O.

"Yup," Damien nearly laughed, pushing the pizza towards the wizard. "Once again, from the top!"

… … …

Somehow, constantly retelling his story over and over again was really therapeutic for Harry. It was so different from being in a place where everyone already knew it (or assumed they knew it). He could tell all of his truths and get the appropriate advice about it.

Miles telling him that Remus and Teddy wouldn't hate him for what had happened, nor for being happy in this new dimension, helped a lot. Hearing from Remus' face, albeit a less scarred one, that Remus wouldn't hate him… Yeah, it was a balm.

It wasn't until the next morning that what Harry had seen between Damien and Miles really clicked. He had another moment of mortification (the normal kind) and then an additional one (wondering if Remus and Sirius had been like that in his world [probably, considering that one Christmas present]) before he became curious.

"Hey, guys?" Once more they were in the kitchen and Damien was using Miles' lap as a footrest while they shared the paper, each reading different sections.

"Hmm?" replied Damien absentmindedly.

"Are you two a couple?"

Miles looked at Harry from over the top of the national news section. "... Kind of," He finally allowed.

"We're best friends," explained Damien, not taking his eyes off of the international news section. Economics was always first, followed by news, for him. "And sometimes lovers. It's an on again off again arrangement."

"And…" Harry ventured, "Right now you're on again?"

Damien shrugged and Miles sighed. "It's very complicated," Remus' double tried, but Harry waved a hand.

"That's not what I think I meant. I mean." Harry scratched at his head. "What I think I mean is. Does anyone know?"

"My family does," said Miles.

And Damien, "Charlie doesn't. He's a bit too old fashioned. I don't hide it, but because I'm an equal opportunity offender, I don't think my family has really realized."

Harry pulled a thinking face, glancing at his phone that was on the table. "I think you should tell Blaine."

Damien finally folded the paper down. "Why?"

"You do know he's gay, right?"

"Please, it wafts off him like a good cologne."

That entire statement bewildered Harry, but he mentally pushed it away and plowed on. "He thinks Charles hates him because he's gay. And the night I showed up he had to go to the hospital because he'd been viciously beaten for being gay."

That got Damien's full attention. "What."

Harry got shivers from the violence-promising tone, and his eyes went wide. "You didn't know?"

"No. How didn't I know? I know everything, especially about family." He left the kitchen table without another word and disappeared towards his office.

Slowly Harry brought his gaze back to Miles at the table, and added, "I'm guessing I shouldn't mention to Damien that his rib was cracked?"

Miles, knowing that information would no doubt be found within the next five minutes, looked concerned but he offered a smile to Harry. "I'm going to go check on him. He didn't rip his pants off as he walked, so that's a good sign." Miles got to his feet. "He always says he thinks the best without his pants on…" and then he was gone too.

Harry looked towards the door after them for a moment, then picked up the comics section.

… … …

Harry returned to studying while Damien worked on learning about what was going on with the Andersons. And maybe yelling at Charles. Apparently, the reason that Miles had come to Damien's place was to be Harry's tutor. Somehow, having someone else explain the details to him instead of the book made most of the stuff he didn't understand make so much more sense.

One-on-one education was awesome. Now he could appreciate a bit more why Slughorn was always trying to match students to prior graduates for apprenticeships.

History was always going to be a complete bust for him though. He would never be able to sort the Magical events from the Muggle ones, nevermind anything from another country, and said as much to Miles.

"Actually, it'd be easier to start American History from scratch, since you don't know the magical history to conflict with it… or alternate dimension history either," Miles tried to explain with the history book between them on the table.

The wizard could only shrug. "I think it was six years building a bad habit of sleeping through history class. My teacher was an actual ghost, you know, which should be cool but his voice droning on was the ultimate lullaby. The last time his class was exciting was the day after he died and the students saw he was a ghost and ran out. But when I read it to myself now, all I can hear his voice saying it and I pass out after ten minutes."

Miles chuckled, but decided to move on for now.

The amazing thing was that Harry really was gifted with languages. Latin, obviously, from all the pseudo-Latin used in magic spells. Surprisingly Greek too. French, from Fleur and long nights alone with Hermione, then Spanish, Italian, and German. Miles really wanted to see how Harry would do with an Asian language since it was so different from the Latin root ones, or maybe even Russian, but wouldn't push it.

Yet.

The Sciences were a mixed bag. Biology was good. The actual lab portions of chemistry that they tried were also good. But everything else about that science was rubbish. Some things just overlapped too much with his magical knowledge that, in this short time that they had, couldn't be sorted apart. Things that had been drilled into him in potions class that were just intuitive now was the opposite with chemical reactions.

Once Miles explained GRAMMAR to Harry, English was easy. Memorizing large amounts of data and retaining it was exactly what Occlumency was made for, so becoming familiar with the classics of literature was idiot-proof with his improved Occlumency skills.

Then Miles deemed that Harry was ready to take his GCSEs again.

Harry wasn't so sure.

It was a week into July, early morning, and Harry was being dropped off outside of a brick building to take his tests yet again. He wasn't as nervous this time, even though Damien had said this would take a few days.

Quick goodbyes were exchanged and Harry went off into the building.

"I feel so oddly proud," Damien said, rubbing a knuckle against his cheek. It wasn't a tear. No way.

Miles leaned into Damien's shoulder and asked, "Almost like a father?"

"What, impossible, I'm too young," he answered flippantly, but didn't move away from the comforting presence.

"Damien."

"I am!"

"You're 41 years old."

"And?"

"You are absolute tosh."

… … …

On the last day of testing, Harry was already waiting for them outside when they came to pick him up. He had a big grin on his face, which must be a good thing.

Especially considering where they were going next.

"So, Harry. Want to meet your grandfather?"

… … …

Harry, in fact, did not want to meet his 'grandfather'.

Unfortunately, he didn't have a choice.

The three were in the car together, driving out of the city and into the countryside. Harry had lost count of all the different cars Damien drove, and the intervals in which he had them varied. More than once there had been a weird handoff of keys out in public, which Harry never questioned but he was deathly curious about.

Surprisingly, once, Harry had forgotten his new messenger bag in the backseat of one of their vehicles. It was cool, and burgundy, and leather, and Harry loved that bag. But he'd forgotten it like a dolt. But, three cars later, it was waiting in the passenger seat for him, with a new book inside. It was creepy. But the book had been good.

"Why do I have to go?" Harry said in a copy of Blaine's best whine. He was slouched deep in the back seat, fiddling with his phone. He was a lot better with it now. Blaine had got him to sign up for an AIM account, which he vaguely understood was a chat program, and they sent text messages through AIM. Somehow it didn't run up Blaine's bill as much as international text messages did. Damien explained it, but it was so tech-term heavy that it went in one ear and out the other.

It kind of sucked that they had different brands of phones since the iPhone and the Blackberry just didn't offer the same apps.

"Because you're practically his nephew."

"I've seen the family tree you have on your computer. I am not his nephew, even if I really was your brother."

"Technically you'd be his grandson, so stop your complaining." Damien actually pulled off the stern parental figure for once.

Harry grumbled some more and sent a shock of magic to his phone from his finger. Miles caught the action out of his peripheral. "What was that?"

"Hmm?"

"What did you just do?"

"Oh. …" Harry turned his phone around to show Miles. "Full battery."

Damien, who was driving, took a glance back to see the phone as well, "Did you just magic your battery to full?"

Earlier teen moodiness forgotten, Harry grinned. "Yeah. I realized it when I jumped last time with my phone. The magic causes it to just... become charged, instead of causing it to... I don't know, explode or something."

Miles blinked slowly, and asked, "Is that something you expected to happen?"

"Exploding? Not especially. It's just that we were always told Muggle technology and magic don't mix. I wonder if it would have worked the same back home." Harry looked very contemplative about that then just shrugged.

His tutor nodded and then glanced at the phone once more before turning to Damien. "Have you got the… you know what yet?"

"Eh?" Damien's face shifted from confusion to a semi-hopeful leer.

Miles whapped him on the arm with the back of his hand. "Nothing like that. We talked about it. The other day?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about My Mine, speak plainly."

Miles scoffed and hissed out, "The phone, you giant boar. For your nephew, or whatever."

It took Damien much longer to understand and Harry was glancing between the two adults, trying to figure it out for himself. Damien had a nephew? HE had a nephew?

"OH!" Damien smacked the steering wheel. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. It should be here in like two weeks. Why?"

"Just making sure. It's only fair, is all."

"Yeah yeah, I know. You are my better half, after all, My Mine." Damien lifted a hand from the wheel to affectionately toy with the hair at the nape of Miles' neck.

Sensing things taking a turn for the adult, Harry spoke up, "What are you talking about?" Did Damien just yelp? Yes, yes he did. Harry laughed, "Did you forget I was back here?"

"... No."

"You totally did," chortled Harry some more.

"I was wrapped up in Milly, okay? I lose my mind around him." He flashed his on-again-off-again lover a devilish smirk.

Miles hit him again.

… … …

They had been driving for a few hours before they finally stopped. Harry sat up properly and looked out the window. "Where are we?"

"Uncle Barry's estate. After he retired in the States, he moved back here and decided that the country was where he needed to be." Damien pocketed the keys-that meant they were keeping this car for the next several hours, Harry had learned-and stretched from the long drive. "He has horses."

"Horses?" Harry asked, trying to exit the car as gracefully as his new brother did and failed. Spectacularly.

"Harry! Are you okay?" Miles rushed to the teen's side, who had managed to completely faceplant into the ground. He heard a grimace that sounded like 'my life' but his help was ignored.

Harry rolled onto his back and complained, "left leg… asleep… AHHHHH!" and he started to hit his leg a few times to wake it up.

Miles huffed, "I told you to sit properly. But no, you had to sprawl."

Damien was too busy laughing to comment.

"I'm a teenager again, that's how I have to sit. Blaine said it was practically mandatory." It was a weak defense, blaming his reflection who was essentially him, but oh well.

"What's going on over here?" A voice announced, deep with a British accent. Harry looked up-and then up some more. There was a man on a horse, who could be no one other than James' father. Charles' father. Whatever. His grandfather. Is this what Fleamont looked like when he was still alive?

Did the Potter line only let one new feature in per generation? Because this man's brilliant brown hair would suggest that to be the case. Black hair for James, and then Green eyes for him, though maybe not for the Andersons since Pam and Blaine had hazel eyes…could just be a difference in universes… dimensions… whatever.

The conversation had been going on around Harry, so he finally scrambled to his feet (one still a bit tingly) and brushed off his jeans. His eyes were wide behind his glasses-finally, his own pair, though in a similar style to Blaine's old ones; just plastic instead of metal for the frames-and then … stared.

"I think we've shocked him speechless, lads," Barry dismounted from the horse, patting the beast on its neck before holding the reins and looking at Harry closely. "You look so much like my grandson."

Hardly able to speak, Harry just squeaked. Damien cackled and Miles smacked the hyena round the head.

"It's nice to meet you," Barry continued, smiling warmly. "You can just call me Uncle Barry like this degenerate does."

"Hey!" Damien yelped.

"Okay," the teen finally croaked, flushing red in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Barry just laughed. "So, Harry, do you ride?"

"Ride what?" Speaking was getting easier.

"Horses, of course!" In another smooth movement, Barry had remounted his horse.

Harry stared, jaw lax before words once more came to him. "I, uh. I've … Kind of?" He finally answered, thinking about Buckbeak and that Thestral.

"Kind of? Do you mean a pony at a fair, lad?"

"... Kinda?"

Barry chuckled and turned the horse, directing it towards the stables with gentle pressure from his heels. "Well, Blaine is a fantastic rider. I'm sure you will be too. Let's go."

… … …

It was an absolute blast learning how to ride horses. As expected, Harry was a natural. It was almost like flying, though… bumpier. Probably the best he could probably get in this world.

Either way, he fell in love with horses. On the ride back to Damien's flat, it was all he could talk about.

"And did you see how fast Uncle Barry let me go? I was up to a full gallop. Bella," and how funny that his black mare was named that, "even jumped over that log!"

"We saw," Miles replied, using the rearview mirror to watch Harry. In the past month, he didn't think he'd ever seen the boy this animated. "You were very good."

"It was bloody awesome!"

"You know there's an equestrian club at Ohio State. Blaine goes there to play polo," suggested Damien.

"Polo?"

"Sport on horses," Miles explained. Harry nodded then completely blew the topic away. He didn't want to play a sport on horses. He just wanted to go as fast as possible.

He exclaimed as such too.

Damien chortled, "I think we have a speed junkie on our hands."

"I think we do," agreed Miles. "You don't know how to drive, do you?"

"I- what? No." Harry's entire thought process stuttered. "I can teleport anywhere, why would I need to drive?"

Damien and Miles shared a look. "Well," Damien decided to take this one. (Aww, look at them. Co-parenting without realizing it). "It's pretty normal in the States for kids your age to drive. Well, not your age, you're technically 14, but you should start learning."

Harry pulled a face. "I don't want to learn how to drive."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, I just don't."

"That's not a very good excuse, Harry," Miles interjected. "Think of a reasonable response."

Harry went into that teenaged sprawl in the back seat, sulking. "I can teleport."

"And when people ask how you got there with no car in no time at all? What did we talk about secrecy, Glinda?" Damien looked at him in the rearview mirror then turned his eyes back to the road, passing a car.

Grumbling, Harry went back to thinking. "Charles can drive me."

"Always? Even when you're an adult?"

More grumbling. "Blaine could."

"You're going to live with him your entire life? I don't think Blaine would appreciate it," said Miles.

Harry threw his arms up in defeat. "But I don't want to!"

"What if I buy you a car?" Damien offered, taking a look at Harry again.

"I-. what?"

"Yeah. What kind do you want. Every kid should have wheels waiting for them once they get their provisional. I realize that's over a year away, but…" Damien trailed off and shrugged. "What kind of car would you want, Harry?"

Being thrown off kilter again, Harry decided to honestly think about Damien's question. "I guess… a motorcycle?"

"What, really?"

"Yeah… My godfather, he had this motorcycle that he had enchanted. Before I even knew it was his, I used to have dreams about it as a kid. I loved the idea of it, cause it could fly, and … yeah, I'd want a motorcycle." It was like those childhood dreams were suddenly so much clearer to him-probably because of all of his Occlumency study-and he vividly recalled wanting at least a motorbike as a kid.

Damien hummed in thought. "What color?"

"Red," replied Harry immediately. "It's my favorite color."

"Couldn't have guessed," Miles teased. Harry usually wore something red every day. More often than not just his trainers, but he also had a bunch of red shirts and a red hoodie, too.

Flushing, Harry mumbled, "It was my house color at Hogwarts."

"All right, so red motorcycle. Got it. You got it. It shall be your birthday present next year, when you turn sixteen." Damien interrupted again, grinning.

Miles and Harry were not reassured by that smile. Miles, because he knew better, and Harry because it reminded him of all the pranksters he knew in his life. And that smile, in particular, was a Marauder Classic.

… … …

Breakfast was a late affair that day. It was getting close to Harry's birthday and Damien was indulging him, allowing him a day off to sleep in.

Miles slowly walked into the kitchen, holding up an envelope with Harry's name on it. "How did you get his GCSE results a month early?"

"I have connections," replied Damien, reaching out his hand to take the letter.

"Shouldn't we wait for him?"

"Probably," Damien opened the letter regardless, pulling out the papers… and frowned. That technology grade wasn't anywhere near where Damien wanted it to be. Miles, despite himself, looked over his shoulder.

The pair were silent for a while, looking at all of Harry's scores. "Well he got some A*," Damien spoke first, looking at the wizard's scores in the multitude of different languages subjects he had the boy take tests in. "And in home ec."

"Not that surprising, considering how much he likes to cook for us," replied Miles, looking at Harry's sciences scores and wincing. "Considering how he explained how he got here to us, I would have thought he would have done better in physics."

"You'd think, huh?" Damien scratched at his stubble and set the papers down. "I should scan these and send them to Charlie. Then we can have a video call to talk about where Harry goes next year."

"Where he goes?" Miles asked, straightening up and going to sit at the table.

Damien nodded. "With his birthday in July, Harry could technically go into year 10 or year 11."

"If he could go into year 10, why did you have him take his GCSEs?"

The hacker shrugged, "It's a good way to figure out his level. And he can always take them again."

"A third time?" Miles laughed, "He may kill you."

"His A-levels, then, once he's done with school in the States."

"Wouldn't he be taking his SATs or something? That's what they have over there, isn't it?" Miles buttered a piece of toast as he spoke.

Again, Damien nodded. "Yeah, but I want him to take his A-levels too…"

Miles narrowed his eyes and finished chewing. "What are you planning, Damien White?"

Immediately, Damien put his hands up in surrender, eyes wide. "Nothing, nothing!"

"I'll believe that when it's actually true. What are you planning?"

Damien clicked his tongue against his teeth and looked off to the side. "His talents would be good…"

And Remus' mirror, just as smart here as he was in Harry's world, filled in the blanks. "You want to recruit him to MI6!?"

"His talents would make him a great asset!" The secret agent tried to defend himself, but Miles' glare said that it was a lame excuse.

Using the butter knife to help him point, "Damien White," began Miles, "Don't force that boy to do anything. He's been through enough in his life. If he wants to join you at your job in the future, then that is his choice, not yours."

Rolling his eyes, Damien flapped a hand and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. All right. No pushing."

"No suggestions either! Let it come up on its own."

"Yes, yes, yes My Mine, as you wish."

Miles smiled and used his other hand to squeeze Damien's. "Thank you, darling."

… … …

That night, after Harry had been given his results, they sat in Damien's office on a video call with Charles.

"These are pretty good, Harry, considering you've only been studying for a few months."

Unbidden, a proud flush covered Harry's cheeks. Damien poked him in one, honestly giggling.

Harry smacked his hand.

"Thank you, Charles, I-... I had help studying."

"Yeah, Miles. He's very smart. A good man." Was Damien blushing now? "The question is, Harry, do you want to be a sophomore with Blaine, or would you like to start as a freshman."

Startled, Harry looked quickly between Damien and the computer screen where Charles' face was. He could see Pam in the background-and maybe a blurry Blaine. "I-... I have a choice?"

"Of course you do," Pam interjected, dropping her chin down onto Charles' shoulder. "Especially because you have a summer birthday."

"What does that have to do with it?" asked Harry, confused.

"Summer birthdays can go either way. You can be the youngest in your grade or the oldest." Charles explained. In the background, he could barely hear Blaine talking about how he was 'the youngest'. Probably because of his Spring birthday?

"But I spent all that time doing my GCSEs…"

"And they're very good. But, some of those grades could be better. Your chemistry grade…" Charles trailed off and Harry winced.

"It's hard! All I could hear was Snape yelling my ear about how I'm a 'dunderhead!'" It didn't help that he still had some of Snape's memories knocking around in there. He hadn't fully organized everything yet, because he had spent so long adding in new information.

Pam crouched down so she was easier to see on the screen. "Harry, dear, if you want to spend the time getting better at all of these scores, you can become a freshman. We don't care, nor will we think less of you if you do."

"HARRY, YOU WOULD ROCK IT AS A FRESHMAN. YOU'LL BE MY BROTHER EITHER WAY!" Blaine jumped in the background as he added his yelled opinion. "Though it would be cool to have him in the same classes."

Pam and Charles both turned to look at Blaine then back at Harry. Harry wondered, "I may be in your Maths, if they let me take some at my level. And languages."

"Harry, your language grades are amazing. The A-star thing is the best grade there is for these tests, right?" asked Pam.

"Yeah," Damien confirmed.

"And you got the A-star in nearly all languages." Pam held up the paper Charles had printed. "Except… Welsh-Damien White, you had Harry taking a WELSH test?"

"I took a Welsh test?" Harry asked.

"I had him take everything!" Damien once more surrendered to the loud, forceful people in his life.

Harry thought, scratching at his (yet again) hairless chin. "There were a lot of tests…"

Pam scoffed and turned away from the computer and Charles hid a smile behind his hand.

Barely, Blaine could be heard saying, "How many tests did he take?" And Pam handed over the paper. It took a second then, "HOLY COW!"

"How many subjects do most people take?" Harry asked Damien.

The man shrugged. "I think nine or ten. Only five are required."

"Five!" Harry shouted, "Five!? I took like twenty!"

"And you did a very good job." Damien patted his cheek and Harry slapped it away with a pout.

"You're a terrible big brother," mumbled Harry, turning his back on Damien. The man in question wrapped his arms around Harry and rubbed his unshaven chin against his neck. "ACK No!" Harry flailed and tried to push him off, all while sniggering.

Pam and Charles watched happily. For a minute. Then Charles interrupted, "So, Harry. What do you think?"

With a final shove, Harry moved closer to the screen, back to it, and arms out in front of him-Damien looked ready to pounce on him with tickle fingers. "I-. What? Sorry, what?" He glanced back and then back to Damien. "I will hex you! Don't tempt me! I can throw a stinging hex without my wand now!"

That stopped Damien, trying to decide if it would be worth it or not.

"Stinging hex?" Pam asked Charles, who shrugged.

"Harry, which grade? Freshman or Sophomore?"

"I-. DAMIEN Stay back!"

"I don't think we're going to get anything out of them," tittered Pam, watching the new brothers. Blaine was pouting in the background, jealous.

Charles sighed, especially hard when Damien finally jumped on Harry. "You're probably right. We'll talk to him once we're there." and then he turned off the Skype call.

Harry, having vaguely heard, was too busy defending himself against Damien.

… … …

That throwaway comment of Charles' was forgotten until Harry went to the front door to open it and Blaine was standing there.

"Blaine?"

"LITTLE BROTHER!" and Harry was promptly glomped.

Grunting, he caught his doppelganger and returned the hug after hesitating for a moment. "Blaine, what are you doing here?"

Blaine leaned back, both hands on Harry's shoulders and grinned. "I'm here for your birthday party, obviously!"

"Hello, Harry dear," Pam said, coming in behind Blaine and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Charles came behind her and gave him a firm smack on the arm, squeezing it. "Damien didn't tell you?" she continued, moving to the side so Charles could go find his cousin.

"Pam? Charles?" Harry looked around, bewildered, before returning to look at Blaine who was holding him around the waist. "Birthday?"

"Did you forget your birthday?"

Harry looked sheepish. "Maybe? What day is it today?"

"It's July 28th! Your birthday is this Friday! We flew late Sunday, but took yesterday to get used to the time change." Blaine promptly yawned at that. "Or mostly used to." Then he hugged Harry again. "I missed you!"

"You haven't known me long enough to miss me," replied a dazed Harry, though he was … kind of loving the hug and returned it. At least he was loving it until Pam took a picture of them. Matching faces turned to pout at her.

Pam replied by taking another picture. "Mom is mean," Harry stage whispered and Pam blushed, albeit happily. Harry hadn't referred to her as 'mom' often, usually defaulting to 'Pam'. And he did specifically say 'Mom' not 'Mum'.

"Yeah, Mom is so mean," Blaine added, but nothing more as he was snatched away from Harry to be smothered by a hug from Damien.

"BLAINEY-BOO!"

"Ack! Can't breathe! Help, little brother!"

Harry watched then shook his head. "Nope, you're on your own. I've had to deal with this for the past three months!"

"Traitor!" Blaine cried, his cheek being assaulted by the Unshaven Chin.

Harry just smirked and offered an arm to Pam, "Madam. Shall I escort you to the kitchen?"

Pam, giggling softly, took his arm and allowed him to lead her through.

… … …

Apparently, behind Harry's back, Damien had planned an entire party for the birthday boy, inviting lots of the extended family that they hadn't bothered to meet. Damien had no excuse, he was just blowing them off: hence, the party.

Blaine, with his new iPhone-the gift to 'make it fair' from Damien, was hiding with Harry, who was overwhelmed by the crowd and fidgeting in his new bespoke suit. The new iPhone was nice because they could use the new app, 'WhatsApp' for chatting. Especially with Damien, who was on the other side of the party messaging them in a group chat.

"You know," Blaine said as he unconsciously moved to the music. "This is your party."

"I don't like crowds."

"You were fine on the subway the other day," Blaine looked at Harry then back down to his phone. The keyboard was so different from his old Blackberry, but he was getting used to it like a pro.

Harry winced, leaning harder against the wall. "That's different."

"How so?"

Harry shrugged. "It just is."

Blaine looked at Harry again. "Is it because these people look like those you knew?"

Like hitting a nail on the head, Harry flinched… and nodded. "Her." Harry pointed to a cousin. "She looks like the person who tortured my best friend, Hermione. Not to mention what she did to Sirius…"

Now it was Blaine's turn to flinch.

"Auntie Mary is rather aggressive in her affection too."

"Which really didn't help," confirmed Harry, remembering the first time he met the three White sisters and was promptly smothered by Mariam. It hadn't aided matters that she had referred to him as 'Uncle Orman's Wittle Accident'. At least Claudia, Narcissa's double, hadn't brought her husband.

(Little did Harry know, she had. He just didn't look like Lucius Malfoy).

"It's just her way of showing love," a new voice said, causing Harry to jump and attempt to go into a defensive stance. Blaine did as well, his boxing lessons from over the summer paying off.

Blaine dropped the stance first though and jumped the new person with a hug. "Uncle Reggy!"

"Hi, Blaine," greeted the man, this 'Uncle Reggy'. "You must be my new younger brother," he addressed Harry who was much slower to relax. "I'm Reginald."

It finally clicked and Harry relaxed completely, offering a small smile. "Hello, sir."

"No, sir," Reginald waved it off, releasing Blaine and holding open his arms. "We Whites like to hug." And he motioned with his hands. Reluctantly, not shyly thank you very much, Harry went to hug him.

It was better than hugging Damien since Reginald just held him comfortably. Warmly. It was safe, like when Harry was around Charles and Pam. This man would protect him with his life and for a moment, Harry thought he would burst into tears. Instead, he squeezed his new older brother tighter while Blaine rubbed his back.

"Hey now," Reginald picked up on the teen's emotions, dropping a kiss to Harry's head. "No need for that. Family looks after family. That is the most important thing to remember, now that you've been brought into the fold." He leaned back enough for the pair to make eye contact. "I'm sorry you were lost for so long. But we've found you now, and we're not letting you go."

"Well, except to come with us," Blaine added, laughing.

"Except to go with them," amended Reginald with his own laugh. "We would have gladly kept you here in England, though, Harry. Know that we are not sending you away." Reginald shook his head. "At first I wasn't sure why Damien said you were going to live with Cousin Charles, but…" he drifted off, looking at Blaine. "It's uncanny."

Blaine was in full dapper mode-gelled-down hair, bow tie, contacts, the works-and his style was so vastly different from Harry's that they didn't look quite as alike, thankfully, but it was still there when people looked close.

"Damien says that I look like you when you were younger," Harry nearly whispered, still tucked against Reginald's side.

The man raised an eyebrow. "He did?"

"Yeah. I didn't have much in the way of clothes and I was wearing some of your old stuff that he had."

"I wonder why he has my old clothes."

Blaine piped up. "Damien's a hoarder." The three chuckled.

"Come on, Harry. Stop skulking in the corner, let me introduce you to more family."

The wizard honestly whimpered for a second but allowed himself to be pulled away into the crowd.

… … …

That party was possibly more stressful than facing off with Voldemort in the forest. Once everyone was gone, Harry was alone with the Andersons, Damien, and Reginald. And all of his gifts.

"Why are there so many of them?" Harry asked, having collapsed onto the floor, next to a chair. Damien had cackled when the teen missed the chair, but Harry didn't bother fixing himself. Blaine took on the duty of handing Harry presents so he could open them.

"Because everyone loves you so much," Pam offered, writing down who the presents were from and what Harry got so that the wizard could make thank you notes.

At the same time, Damien and Reginald said, "Guilt."

Charles nodded. "Makes sense," he agreed with a shrug when Pam shot him a look. "Family is more important than anything to Whites, honey, you know that. Harry has been missing for fifteen years. Of course, they'll want to spoil him now and make up for the birthdays they've missed."

She scowled more, then turned to Harry. "Who is that one from, dear?"

Harry turned the card over and winced. "Auntie Mary…" he handed the card over to Blaine, who started a pile and then opened the gift. It was quite the ugly sweater and Harry winced again. "Yaay…" he deadpanned, "I'm so happy…"

Reginald guffawed, "You don't have to lie, Harry. Mariam has terrible taste. Did you see what she was wearing?"

The sweater was passed over to Blaine, who traded it for a new gift.

The process continued for quite some time. Thankfully, one of Harry's new relatives thought to gift him with a matching luggage set, so Blaine opened the largest one and started to pack away Harry's new items.

Throughout the whole process, they had to be careful with maintaining their cover story, because Reginald was there. Harry had a lot of practice with it since about 40% of the cars Damien drove were bugged, but Pam nearly slipped a few times. She just tried to stay quiet and kept herself busy writing so she wouldn't slip again.

By the end of the night, Harry had more things than he had ever owned before. Between the shopping trips with Damien and Miles, and this party, Harry had everything a teenager could want. Or didn't want, in regards to some gifts.

One of the coolest things he got was a leather bracelet with the White family crest etched on a piece of square metal. The family words, embossed on the inside of the cuff, were oddly fitting: Loyal unto Death. Harry put it on immediately.

The weirdest gift had been from Uncle Barry: a set of green horse bridles. Reginald took them from Blaine after the card was read through by the man. "Looks like you've got your own horse, Harry. The mare you rode before, Bella." Harry had been stunned. And then he'd started laughing.

On the ride home to Damien's, Harry explained why it was so funny to Blaine (who was coming over to spend the night and help Harry pack since their flight back to the USA was that Sunday). Then Blaine started laughing too.

… … …

That night, after Harry curled up in bed, admiring the new case he had for his phone-a useful gift from Claudia's daughter, who hadn't been able to come because of work-he heard Blaine whispering to him.

"Pst, Harry… You still awake?"

"Yeah?" He moved to the edge of his bed so he could look at Blaine on the floor. "Why?"

"I wanted to say… Thank you."

"Why?" asked a bewildered Harry, "What did I do?"

"Damien… He talked to me earlier at the party." His doppelganger looked out of the window in what had become Harry's room. "He came out to me. Told me about his sexuality. How he's omnisexual. Granted, he didn't call it that, but that's what it's called… Anyway," Blaine rolled over so he could look up at Harry on the bed, flashing him a blinding smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome?" Harry still wasn't sure why he was getting thanked.

Blaine snickered under his breath. "Damien explained about Dad… It's nice to know that dad doesn't hate me…"

"Charles could never hate you, Blaine, you're far too chipper," Harry gushed, grinning in the darkness. Blaine snorted in response. "It's true. Even if you weren't me, I wouldn't be able to hate you. It's hard to imagine that you ARE me sometimes."

"I know what you mean. Did you know your-well. Our scowling face is really scary?"

"Is it?" Harry sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow so he could be more comfortable. "Well, our happy face looks slightly demented, so maybe tone down the smiles some."

"What!" Blaine yelped before dissolving into a fit of giggles that Harry joined in. Once they settled, Blaine checked his new phone. "We should get to sleep."

"Probably."

"Cya in the morning, Hare-bear." Blaine set aside his phone and curled up with his pillow again.

"G'nite, Blainey-boo," replied Harry, stealing Damien's nickname for Blaine.

… … …

The taxi that was going to take them to the airport was all packed up. Charles and Pam were waiting inside the van while Harry and Blaine said their last goodbyes to Damien. Miles, too. He'd come to say goodbye to Harry.

"Here is my email address," he pressed a folded piece of paper into Harry's hand. "You have my phone number as well, but if you ever need anything, even just more study help, send me an email. Or a text. Any time, all right?"

Harry stared at the paper and then up at Miles and nodded slowly. "Thank you…" he whispered, dazed by the offer. "Thank you so much, Miles."

"Milly is the best," declared Damien as he draped himself over Miles' back, arms around his shoulders. "Don't hesitate with messaging me either. Family sticks together, brother mine."

This time Harry managed a real smile, grabbing the pair of them in a hug. Miles got sandwiched between the new brothers and didn't mind at all.

Blaine, who had got in the van as Harry was talking to Miles, stuck his head out the open door. "Come on, America Beckons!"

"Shut it, you yank," Harry replied, his head against Miles' chest, "I'm comfortable."

Laughing, Blaine sat down and buckled up. Miles gently pushed Harry away and towards the taxi.

"Cya later, Glinda!" Damien waved Harry into the van as well.

"Talk to you soon, Mr Grimm." Harry winked and got into the van. Damien squawked, taking a swipe at the teen, but Miles held him back with a roll of the eyes.

"Glinda?" asked Blaine as Harry fastened his own seat belt.

"Long story. That, and Damien is kind of a git."

Blaine snickered as the cab pulled away.

… … …

During the ride, Blaine brought up something he had been wondering. "Hey Harry, what clubs are you going to join at Dalton? We're required to join at least one."

"Huh? We are?"

"Yeah. I'm going to try out for the Warblers. There's a Fencing team too that I'll probably join as well."

Harry furrowed his brow. "What are the Warblers?"

Blaine's mouth dropped open. "You don't know? Even at my school, the Warblers were talked about. Probably because they kicked my school's butt last year at sectionals…"

"Blaine," Harry began, "I've been in this dimension for three months."

The teen blinked. Then nodded. "Right, I forget that sometimes."

"How could you forget?" muttered Harry.

But Blaine kept going, "Anyway, they're Dalton's glee club." When Harry didn't respond right away, not even a noise of understanding, Blaine asked, "You do know what a glee club is, right?" Harry shook his head. Once again, Blaine's mouth opened. "It's a show choir!"

"I know choir, Hogwarts had one, but what's the 'show' have to do with it? Do you dance around or something?"

"Or something," laughed Blaine, "that's exactly what glee clubs do. It's really fun."

"Well, you enjoy that. I am not musically inclined at all."

Blaine was shocked. "How!? I love music! Music is my LIFE."

Harry shrugged in response. "You know what my life has been. The other m-word. Maybe that's what's different for us."

Understanding came over Blaine and he nodded. "Makes sense. Anyway, what are you thinking of?"

The wizard shrugged again, "What are my options?"

The rest of the trip to the airport was them discussing said options. Blaine had retrieved the list on his phone the night before just so he could have this conversation with Harry today.

Eventually, the younger doppelganger decided on possibly football (not American), track, and the equestrian club. The last was Harry's first choice, but the track team sounded like fun too.

"Don't overwhelm yourself with extracurriculars," Pam warned as they were loading their suitcases from the taxi onto push carts. "We would still like for you two to do well in school."

"Of course, we do want you to have fun as well. And make plenty of friends," Charles added after paying the driver.

"Yes Dad," Blaine said, hiding his eye roll by looking at Harry and not Charles. Harry hid a smile, but nodded to his new guardian.

Conversations about school were put on hold as they made their way to the counter to check in for their flight, wade through security, and head to their gate. Distracted by all of this new stuff, since Harry had never been to an airport before, he didn't even think about Dalton until they were seated on the plane.

"By the way, Harry, have you thought about what grade you want to go into?" Charles was turned around his seat, laptop waiting on his lap so he could work during the flight.

There was a moment when Harry remembered back to the conversation nearly a week ago now and then looked at Charles. "Yes. I want to be a - what is year 10, Freshman?" after Charles nodded in confirmation Harry flashed him a blinding smile, just like Blaine's. "I think that would be the best… don't you?"

"It was your decision," affirmed Charles, though the man did agree. "I'll email the dean and forward your transcripts."

With the smile still stuck on his face, Harry leaned back into his seat. This was going to be… good. No, GREAT. It was going to be AMAZING.

Dalton Academy. Here comes Harry White.

… … …

AN: *sings* Secret… AGENT MAN!

I couldn't work it in there, but Uncle Barry's real name is Berrisford. Good, old fashioned name lol.

I had to do so much research for 2009 in this chapter. Especially about cell phones, apps, and GCSEs. The AIM chatting thing was something that I remember doing in the late 2000s because I had a lot of overseas friends, but didn't have a smartphone yet.

Guest reviewer asked if I had a pairing in mind for Harry. Shortest Answer: No. Short Answer: I'm really not sure. This isn't a romance fic. I don't DO romance fics. Long answer: I personally didn't date in high school and I'm pretty sure Harry will have too many other things on his mind (like living a normal life and having a family and trying to find his place in this world without magic, though he HAS magic) to really even think about dating. The fact he dated in the canon series still baffles my mind. If it happens, it will happen naturally within the storytelling. He may have crushes on people, but it would be more along the lines of "wow, you're really nice to look at and I enjoy looking at you."

PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT: Damien drives while talking on his cell phone in this fic. This is extremely unsafe. Don't do it. And remember to always buckle your seatbelt!