So...I have absolutely noooo idea how this happened, but when I was suffering major writer's block this week, this came to my head, and I had a random burst of inspiration. I've never written an AU before, so I really enjoyed trying something new with this.

This story takes place about forty years after The Deathly Hallows.

Okay, now, let's got on with the first chapter, shall we?

Chapter 1

A Stranger Is No Longer A Stranger

The street was practically deserted as John Anderson reached the front door to the Leaky Cauldron.

When he realized his companion was no longer beside him, he turned. "This isn't the time for a stroll, son," he said anxiously.

"I'm coming, Father," the boy replied as he sped up his pace to keep up.

John opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open for his son as he followed.

"Mr. Anderson!" called the bartender. "The usual today?"

"I can't Henry," John said, flashing him a friendly smile. His eyes raked the room for any eavesdroppers before he continued, "I'm taking my boy to get all of his necessities for the year."

"Ah, yes, the new school year is approaching, isn't it? What year are you again, m'boy?"

"Fifth year, sir," the teen answered.

"Gryffindor, ain't ya?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Oh, you know you don't need to be calling me sir. I bet you're around enough formality when it comes to dealing with all those professors the whole school year."

"I don't mind. I respect all of my professors very highly."

Henry's lip curled into a small smile. "As do I, boy."

"Well, we really should go," John chimed in. "We have loads to purchase."

Henry picked a glass up off the counter and set it on the back shelf. "Will I be seeing you around here again soon, Johnny?"

"As long as I don't have to spend time sending my boy Howlers for trouble he's causing," John replied humorously. "In other words, probably, yes."

"You sure about that, John?" Henry joked back.

"He's not a troublemaker like his grandfather, or his father for that matter," John laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't say his grandfather was a troublemaker; a hero maybe."

John nodded. "That he was."

"Father..." the boy began.

"Right, right, sorry. Well, it was nice seeing you, Henry."

"You two as well. Have a good year at school, m'boy."

The teen nodded and smiled. "Thank you. See you around, Henry."

And with that, the Andersons made their way to the back door of the bar.

"Are you ready, son?" John asked as they reached the brick wall.

"More than I'll ever be, I guess."

John chuckled. "You sound like your mother when you say that," he said before reaching up to tap the wall in a certain pattern.

After a moment, the bricks began to swivel and twist into a large archway, revealing a busy street filled with folks dressed in a variety of different cloaks and robes.

"Welcome back to Diagon Alley, son."

"It's good to be back, Dad."

"Come, let's see your list. You have it with you, yes?" John asked.

"Yeah, I brought it," his son said, reaching into his jean pocket and pulling out a small piece of paper; he handed it to him.

"Let's see...It looks like you'll only need to buy a new set of robes and your text books for the year. Why don't we go over to Flourish & Blotts and get you the books first."

"Sure, Dad."

After they had managed to wade through the large crowd, John looked through the window. His eyes narrowed and he frowned. "On second thought, why don't you just head over to Madam Malkin's now? I can get your books."

"But Dad, why-"

"Just go, son," he said with a hint of sudden anger in his voice. "I'll just meet you there after I'm done here."

"I...uh...okay, Dad."

"Now go." John gripped his son by the shoulder and, rather forcefully, turned him toward Madam Malkin's.

The boy just managed to catch a glimpse of who his father had been looking at before he stumbled away.

Paul Karofsky.

Realization crashed over him as he watched his father disappear into Flourish & Blotts. As he reached the robe shop, he heard Madam Malkin's voice muffled through the door. Slowly, he opened the door. He stepped inside and saw her standing at the counter talking to another boy.

She looked up at him as he walked in. "Ah, Mr. Anderson!"

He saw the boy at the counter snap his head around to look at him.

"My, you've really grown in just a year. I'll be with you in a moment."

He nodded.

She turned back to the boy at the counter. "I'll go get your robes, dear."

"Thank you," the boy said, turning his attention back to her before she drifted out to the back room.

There was a small silence between the two boys.

The boy at the counter stood up from where he was leaning against the counter.

The boy still at the door stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Anderson?"

He looked up. "What?"

"Anderson. That's your name, right?"

"Uh, yeah...Why?"

"You're...I...uh...you don't...happen to be related to John and Lily Anderson, do you?"

The son looked at him, slightly puzzled. "They're my mum and dad."

The other boy's eyes widened. "Wow..." His lip curled into a small smile.

The tension in the room seemed to fade.

The Anderson son subtly returned the smile. "My name is Blaine," he said, outstretching his hand.

The other boy hesitated for a moment before stepping over to meet him halfway; he took Blaine's hand and shook it timidly. "Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kurt."

"Well, it's an honor to meet you, Blaine."

Blaine quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "It is?"

"You said that you're Lilly Anderson's son, right?"

"Yes."

"Well then you must know what that means."

Blaine shrugged and shook his head.

"Why, you're the grandson of the 'Chosen One' of course!"

"...I...what...You've heard of my grandfather?"

"How could I not? He's a legend! He defeated the darkest, most dangerous, and most feared wizard in the world!"

That last statement took Blaine a bit by surprise. It had been so long since he had ever heard any stranger mention anything about the heroic accomplishments of his grandfather, ones that were from so many years before.

At Blaine's silence, Kurt worried that he may have irritated him, and his smile disappeared. "I-I'm sorry; you probably get that a lot, don't you?"

"No, i-it's fine," Blaine replied quickly. "I mean, I-I'm used to it by now, I guess..."

Kurt pursed his lips. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

Blaine's face softened, and he smiled reassuringly. "Don't apologize; it has become rather flattering, actually," he joked.

Kurt laughed lightly. "My mum used to always tell me the stories that her mum told her about all off his adventures."

Blaine nodded. "My mum could never stop gushing about Grandpa Harry when I was younger. She loved to tell me about how he saved my grandmum from the Chamber of Secrets and killed the basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor when he was only a second year."

"Your grandfather is a good man."

"That he is. You know, it's been so long since anyone has ever asked me about him, let-alone a stranger."

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call myself a stranger..."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen you around, at school. You're in Gryffindor, aren't you?"

"Yeah...I guess I just haven't seen you around..."

Kurt's eyes lowered, but he faked a smile. "I'm not surprised."

"What do you me-"

"Here you are dear, sorry about the wait." Madam Malkin reappeared at that moment with Kurt's robes.

"That's alright. Thank you." He gathered up the bundle in his arms before turning back to Blaine, who was shocked as he

glanced down at the silver and green tie on the top of the bundle.

"You're in Slytherin."

Kurt froze.

"Your tie..."

"Oh, yeah. I am."

"That's interesting."

Kurt looked puzzled. "How so?"

"I didn't get that impression from you; you're rather nice."

Kurt's face flushed and his lip curled bashfully. "Well, not all Slytherins are jerks, you know."

"I know...only the ones I know. Well, until now, I guess."

Kurt's smile widened and his eyes gleamed at him.

Wow, he has really pretty eyes, Blaine thought.

Kurt saw a strange movement and a flash of red light, and his eyes wondered for a moment to look through the window behind Blaine. His smile fell and his eyes filled with panic.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

"B-Blaine...isn't that your dad?" he said, pointing out the window.

Blaine turned, and his face mimicked Kurt's.

His father was standing outside Flourish & Blotts, shouting and pointing his wand...at Paul Karofsky.

"Dad!" He flew out of the robe shop, banging the door open as he sped toward his obviously furious father. "Dad! Stop!"

Kurt stuffed his new robes into his messenger bag. "Blaine, wait!" he called, following his lead.

"Dad!"

"I'll teach you to mock my family, Karofsky!"

"You don't have the guts, Anderson!"

"Nobody speaks of my son in such a manner! Nobody!"

Blaine flung himself at his father, grabbing his wrist, causing John to stumble over.

"Blaine!"

"Father, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Let go of me, Blaine!"

"Stop this! You can't retaliate like this! Violence isn't the answer!"

"I am only defending you, son! I refuse to listen to that rotten scoundrel speak about my family in such a mocking tone."

Karofsky cackled. "Please, Anderson; your son sets such low personal standards and then consistently fails to achieve them."

Blaine didn't know why, but he took those words to heart, and he began to feel his insides boiling with anger. "Excuse me?"

"And to think his grandfather is the famous Mr. Potter! I'm surprised you're not ashamed to be seen with him in public!"

Blaine shook with rage, his hand flying to his own wand. "Flipendo!" He shouted.

A jet of blue light shot out of the tip of his wand, and Karofsky stumbled backwards with a loud grunt.

"Blaine, stop it!"

Blaine felt a pair of hands latch onto the back of his shoulders. He turned his head and locked his eyes with Kurt's. "Kurt, let go!"

"Stop it, Blaine, this is not the way to handle things!"

"Dad?" came another boy's voice.

Blaine saw the look in Kurt's eyes change drastically from panicked to horrified. "Kurt? 'You okay?"

"I have to go."

"What-"

"I'll see you at school, Blaine," and with that, Kurt took off down the street.

"Watch your back, Hummel," he heard the other boy call to him.

Blaine's head snapped in the direction of his voice.

"Dad, are you okay?" the boy asked, trying to help his father up.

Still on the ground, Karofsky brushed his son off. "I'm fine, David."

He finally got to his feet. "Come, son. We're leaving."

"But I still have to get new robes-"

"Another day, David. I can't stand another second around these simpletons."

"Then get out of my sight, Karofsky!" John yelled.

"No need to tell me twice, Anderson!" He yanked his son by the sleeve until they reached the brick wall at the end of the street.

Blaine turned to his father. "Are you okay, Dad?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

The two of them stood there in silence for a few moments.

"Hey, Dad?"

"Hm?"

"...Is...is what Karofsky said true? Are you...ashamed of me?"

His father frowned.

"Look, I know I shouldn't listen to whatever anyone says about...well, me...but...I mean, it's a hard thing to be open about with certain people."

"What is? That I have a gay son?"

Blaine's eyes lowered. "Well..."

John's hands came up to rest on his son's shoulders. "Blaine, my son, many people refuse to be accepting of that kind of thing, but that doesn't mean that I'm not."

Blaine's lips twitched.

"You are a good person, and that shouldn't have to be determined simply based off of what gender you find yourself attracted to."

"Dad..."

"No matter what, I love you just as much."

Blaine finally allowed himself to smile.

"Okay?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, Dad."

"And besides," John continued, leaning closer to Blaine, "your brother is the one that drives everyone insane."

Blaine laughed. "True."

"Come on, I still have to buy your textbooks. Karofsky cut me off on my way in, and...well...you saw what happened..."

Blaine chuckled. "Sure, Dad."

Well, that's all for now. Sorry it's a bit short, but I hope you all enjoyed.

Thanks everyone for reading, and the next chapter should be up soon! :)

REVIEWS EQUAL KLISSES! :D