A Devil Takes Care of His Own

Intro

The moon was full overhead, casting an eerie glow over the rundown suburban street. Klaus Mikaelson, the Original Hybrid, stood before the small, unremarkable house, a letter clenched tightly in his hand. His frown deepened with each word he read, as disbelief and anger warred inside him.

"Our dearest Klaus," the letter began. "By the time you read this, we will be gone. We're sorry we never told you the truth, but the night we met at the bar, the night of the threesome... it wasn't just about pleasure. James couldn't get me pregnant, and we desperately wanted a child. You were our only hope. We never meant to deceive you, but we were so desperate for a family."

Klaus's eyes darkened as he read the revelation. A child. He had a child. A son.

"We never intended to burden you with this," the letter continued. "But if you're reading this, things have gone terribly wrong. Harry, our son, is in danger. His aunt and uncle, my sister and her husband, are cruel people. You must find him, Klaus, and keep him safe. Please. He is your son too, and he needs you."

A low growl rumbled from Klaus's throat as he crumpled the letter, rage sparking in his chest. His son—his flesh and blood—was in danger, and he had not known. But now that he did, he would not waste another second. Harry was his, and no one, especially the Dursleys, would be allowed to harm him.

Klaus turned on his heel, his vampire speed carrying him to the doorstep where a small basket lay, just as the letter had described. Inside was a tiny boy with messy black hair and bright green eyes, swaddled in blankets, staring up at the moonlit sky. Harry was only fifteen months old, still a baby, too innocent to understand what had happened to his parents, too young to know the weight of the world that had been thrust upon him.

But he knew one thing. He recognized the man standing over him. The boy's small mouth moved as if to speak, his voice soft and shaky.

"Papa..." Harry's tiny hand reached out from the blanket, as if grasping for something familiar.

Klaus's heart, usually cold and guarded, stirred at the sound. The boy knew him—knew him without ever having met him. He had heard about Klaus. Lily and James had made sure of it, leaving nothing to chance. One of the few words Harry had learned to say was "papa," and now, as Klaus knelt beside the basket, the boy said it with a kind of certainty that tugged at Klaus's ancient, immortal heart.

Klaus scooped the boy into his arms, his protective instincts flaring. The little one snuggled into his chest, his small hands clutching Klaus's shirt.

The letter had warned of danger, but Klaus was prepared. He would be more than enough to protect this child from whatever threats loomed in the shadows. The Dursleys had already failed the moment they left Harry on this doorstep, abandoned like an afterthought. The wizarding world would also answer for their neglect, but first, Klaus had to get his son to safety.

As Klaus cradled Harry, his sharp eyes caught movement down the street. His vampire senses went on alert as two familiar figures approached, moving with urgency. Elijah and Rebekah Mikaelson, his siblings, appeared out of the darkness, having followed him after receiving the same letter.

"Is this him?" Elijah asked softly, looking down at the boy still nestled in Klaus's arms.

"Yes," Klaus growled, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "This is Harry. Our family."

Rebekah knelt beside them, her usually sharp demeanor softened as she took in the sight of the baby. "He's beautiful," she murmured, gently brushing a hand over Harry's dark hair. "He's yours, Klaus. Our nephew."

The boy stirred in Klaus's arms, his tiny voice barely a whisper. "Wolf..."

A faint smile tugged at Klaus's lips. Another word Harry knew, no doubt from stories his parents had told him—stories of Klaus's hybrid nature, stories of the fierce, protective "wolf" who was also his father.

Klaus stood, holding Harry close. "We take him now," he said, his tone decisive. "Before the Dursleys even know he's gone. He's not staying here."

The three of them moved swiftly, the Mikaelsons disappearing into the night with the boy, leaving the mundane suburban house behind. Harry would never know the neglect or cruelty of the Dursleys, not while Klaus lived. He had missed the first fifteen months of his son's life, but from this moment on, he would be there.

Klaus glanced down at Harry, the boy now fast asleep in his arms. He couldn't help but feel the fierce protectiveness that burned in his chest. This child was his blood, his family, and Klaus Mikaelson would destroy anyone who tried to harm him. Harry would be loved, cared for, and protected in ways James and Lily could have only dreamed of.

For now, Klaus had a mission: to raise his son, to teach him, to protect him. The wizarding world would soon learn what it meant to have an Original Hybrid as Harry Potter's father.

Klaus would make sure of it.