Chapter Text

Prologue

It was madness, absolutely fucking crazy. The boys couldn’t describe it any other way. Blackened clouds littered the sky, blocking the light from the moon and stars. Lights of all colours were jolting across the rooms in the castle as the good battled the evil. Most of these people were just children, born into a war that they couldn’t escape or hide from.

Sounds of crumbling stone, screams and shouts echoed around them. Dean sensed the coppery taste from the blood in his mouth. Sam was running alongside him, his gun raised high. There was blood everywhere they looked, blood and death. 

It’s a miracle they’d survived this long. Experienced as they were, they had a clear disadvantage against these bastards. They needed to complete their mission. And get as many as they could come out alive at the end of this shit show. Sam pulled his trigger, killing a Werewolf instantly. 

The boys never realized what they’d gotten themselves into, all those months ago. So much had changed since then. They had much more to lose. Should they have said no, and went on in blissful ignorance to this world? Went along their merry day? No, they couldn’t have done that, left them all to die. They didn’t deserve to die this way. 

A loud boom echoed through the halls of the crumbling castle and the Winchesters were nearly crushed as another tower started to topple

“Why in the hell did we sign up for this again?” Sam coughed as he wiped the dust off his jacket.

“Oh, don’t act like you aren’t loving this!” Dean grinned.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Boise, Idaho, 18 ^th August 2011

The night was black, pitch black, nothing but the twinkling bright stars to guide travellers to and from their destinations. 

The road was quiet, abandoned, more of a dirt path than an actual road. Occasionally a car would pass, but they were few and far between. But one car, in particular, stuck out among them. A 1967 Chevy Impala roared down the road, disrupting the unnatural calm of the night. This road was one of the hundreds she had travelled upon in the past forty years. Some no-name town, one of the thousands visited in the nearly forty years that had passed since it was manufactured. She seemed to glide across the dirt as if it was covered in fresh smooth pavement. Her bright headlamps illuminated the cornstalks encroaching on either side of the car, igniting the road ahead in blinding light… Her sleek black metal shone brilliantly under the moon’s neon glow. The Impala had lived a long life, and she was still running, and she did what any other car would have done, carrying occupants to and from destinations loyally. But this car…. She was special. 

She had all the things other cars had of course. A steering wheel, pedals, a gear shift, dials to tell you everything from tire pressure to speed. Two rows of black leather bucket seats, a radio that was only allowed to play classic rock,  a killer motor and pistons and gears. But she also had a few things that didn’t come stock. The most important accessories to the car were the two occupants she was carrying.  

Their destination was a crappy little motel in some crappy little no-name town just to sleep, refuel and restock. Thoughts of a warm bed soothed the after-hunt adrenaline that flowed through the brothers’ veins. Even if those warm beds might be contaminated with more things than either of them wanted to think about. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers. 

Now the two men inside were as different as night and day. The owner of the car, a 6-foot-tall man, his piercing green eyes standing out from the handsome features topped with sandy blonde hair. He was driving the car with a skill that only came from almost twenty years of experience behind the wheel of his baby, and years before that when she belonged to his father. His driving was adjusted, perfect to the car he knew and loved. He knew exactly how to move her, to brake easily, and he cared for her as if she were a lover. She was the most stable relationship that he had in his life.  

He groaned as he shifted his right shoulder, he had tried to shift the gear from second to third, forgetting for a second that it was dislocated. He drove with his left hand (it was awkward but doable), lightly tanned fingers curling around the black steering wheel. 

The man beside him was handsome and looked younger, yet taller than the other man. It was evident in the way he sat; his feet squashed up underneath the dashboard. The nickname ’sasquatch’ was appropriate, he hated it. His long brown hair fell in his hazel green eyes. He sighed impatiently, wincing as blood pooled around a gash in his forehead. The red liquid threatened to spill over the rim of the cut. He tried to relax his facial features to keep that from happening. He went through his knowledge of first aid from his college days on how to treat a wound to simple life-sustaining practices.  

You could ask the eldest of the pair, and he would say without a doubt that the younger was more book smart. He was nearly finished with his law degree before he went out on the road with his brother, but that had been so long ago that he barely remembered anything he learned there. It was also too painful to think about the old days. This was his life now; he had chosen this path. Come hell or high water he was going to live it.  

The Impala swerved into a parking space in front of the Thunderbird Inn, home sweet temporary home: Room number 66. The men got out and their eyes swept the area out of force of habit. Once they were satisfied there was nothing amiss, the taller man dug the keys out from his pocket.  

Once inside, there was a minor scuffle over who got the bed with the working vibrating mattress. Even with a dislocated shoulder the eldest still put the younger on the floor in ten seconds. 

“Ya OK Sammy?” The eldest asked with a grin. His brother nodded, muttering under his breath as the blood seeped into his dark hair.  

“M’fine Dean,” Sam Winchester said with a smile as he got up from the floor. “And for the last time, it’s Sam.”  

“This is the life, huh?” Dean grinned, ignoring his brother’s protest over his nickname. Maybe I should go back to Sasquatch? He thought to himself. “Sleazy motels, hunting ghosts and who knows what other crap. Almost getting killed every day… loads of fun,” Dean snorted at his sarcasm and Sam laughed in response. 

They dropped their bags of weapons they had used on the beds. Dean dug around in his pockets for spare change, grinning when he heard the satisfying jingle coming from the third pocket of his jeans. Sam groaned as he fumbled for the first aid kit, trying to keep the blood out of his eyes. Because of their occupation, hunting, their kit would be better stocked than the typical household one would; containing around 10 types of medication for pain, bandages, needles and thread, antiseptics, cleaners, and slings.  

“Sam, will you do my shoulder?” Dean asked. “I’ll stitch you up in a minute.” 

Sam nodded, realizing Dean’s shoulder would be the priority because Sam couldn’t see his forehead to stitch it up, and it wasn’t that deep. Dean put a hand on Sam’s shoulder, holding him in place for a minute. “Wait, how many fingers am I holding up?” He asked holding up three slightly bent fingers, the results of repetitive breaking.  

Sam rolled his eyes. “I don’t have a concussion Dean, and three,” Sam answered with a huff. 

Dean grinned, holding up only one finger. “How about now?” 

Sam stood, getting tired of the antics, and approached his brother. He placed one hand behind his dislocated shoulder, and one on the front side to hold him steady. Without warning and with brute strength, Sam pushed Dean’s shoulder rapidly, hearing as it clicked back into place.  “Fuck!” Dean swore, grunting loudly in pain. Sam handed him two pain pills that wouldn’t make him drowsy, along with a glass of water. Dean took the pills, but he shook his head and grabbed the bottle of Jack that was within reach. He popped the pills into his mouth and took a large gulp of the whiskey. The pleasant burn of the alcohol hit his throat and he let out a sigh of happiness. “You could have warned me you were doing it….” Sam just shrugged it off

“Fine, now it’s your turn,” Dean said, moving his injured shoulder slowly, a hiss of pain            escaping. He grabbed the needle and thread from the first aid kit. He wiped Sam’s forehead with alcohol from the Jack Daniel’s bottle and began sewing up the cut. Sam didn’t wince much as the dull needle slid in and out of his skin, he had taken the pain pills before when Dean was getting the keys. Luckily it wasn’t deep, and it was only a small cut, compared to others Sam had got in the past. He finished and again poured the alcohol over the wound to clean it. “There you go champ. 

All better?” he teased, ruffling Sam’s hair lightly. 

Sam scowled. “Jerk.” 

“Bitch. Come on, we better hit the hay,” Dean yawned, arms outstretched, the pain in his       shoulder starting to wear off with the pills and the alcohol. The bottle of amber liquid in his hands. He took a swig before putting it on the tiny table.  

“That poltergeist was crazy,” he commented, feeling like he needed to break the surrounding silence. It was starting to feel a little claustrophobic.  

“Yeah, it was. I mean, who or what kills people by ripping their lungs out?” As soon as the words were out Sam realized his gaffe, he grimaced. Tonight’s hunt had reminded him too much of Zachariah ripping his lungs out to make Dean say yes to Michael.  

“Sick bastards Sam,” Dean answered, remembering the same thing, making no other comment.

“Yeah,” Sam answered, but Dean was already snoring lightly. He rolled his eyes and lay back and drifted to sleep.

⸸

They’re on a warm beach somewhere, it didn’t matter where. It only mattered who with. She was beautiful with a nice rack, and she was cuddled into his side. They were sitting on the blanket in the sand, watching the sunset below the horizon. He was leaning over to nuzzle her neck when she started banging coconuts together and looking at him with a perplexed expression on her face. Before he could ask she banged them together again. 

Dean awoke with a start to a sharp tapping on a window.  

“What the hell?” he muttered. He arose slowly, walking towards the window. There on the windowsill, was a small tawny owl. It had an envelope tied to its leg, looking at him expectantly. Dean raised one eyebrow quizzically at the sight. Not sure if he still wasn’t dreaming. He  turned around and shook his brother wishing he was still with the hot chick on the beach.  

“Wha…?” Sam groaned sleepily. He tried to focus on his brother’s figure squinting in the darkness. Once he was up he turned on the bedside light.  

“Dude, there’s a freaking owl on the windowsill!” Dean exclaimed in confusion, jerking his thumb towards the only window in the place. Sam shook his head, wondering if he heard Dean right and went over to the window and saw the owl. He moved to open it automatically.

“What the hell are you doing? Are you nuts?” Dean snapped as the small owl flew into the room         and nuzzled Sam’s arm.  

“There’s something tied to its leg,” Sam said simply. As if that explains everything. Dean thought to himself, his scowl deepened.  

“And that means we let the thing in? It could be cursed with something,” Dean pointed out. Sam was too trusting in his opinion. Dean lived by the mentality of shoot first and ask questions later. Though he had to admit, even if too himself, that the owl was pretty cool. He had never seen one up close before.   

Sam ignored him and untied the envelope from the owl’s leg. “It’s holding an envelope…      

What’s so scary about an envelope? I might get a paper cut at the worst.” 

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. 

Messrs Sam and Dean Winchester,

Room 66

The Thunderbird Inn,

Boise, Idaho,

United States of America

Sam turned it over and saw a purple wax seal with a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter ’H’.  

“What the hell?” Sam muttered.  

“They got the exact address… too exact if you ask me,” Dean said, suspicious. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on. He just wanted to go back to the island with the coconut fetish. Now Sam wanted to play nature boy with a stupid owl. With pale fingers, Sam broke the wax           seal and opened the letter, revealing a heavy paper with more emerald-green ink in elegant script. 

Sam began to read the letter aloud.  

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer Supreme

Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

“What a name,” Dean smirked. Sam glared at him and continued to read.  

Dear Sam and Dean Winchester, 

My name is Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am afraid that war is coming to my world faster than we were expecting and require your assistance in preparing our students should they feel the need to participate. 

I understand if you do not wish to join us, but we would consider it an honour to have two of the world’s most renowned hunters to help with the rising of the Dark Wizard Voldemort. 

We are aware that your father, John Winchester, has trained you to hunt the supernatural since childhood. So, naturally, you would be the perfect people for the job.  

If you agreed to join us, or if you have any questions for me, I would be happy to give you the answers you require. I will meet you tomorrow at 2 pm. The school term begins on September the first. 

Sincerely,  

Minerva McGonagall  

Deputy Headmistress  

What the fuck is this? Were the first thoughts to enter the Winchester brothers’ minds. Magic? Witchcraft? Sure, they had heard of all of that before, but on a good side? Nope, it just didn’t happen. They had come across their fair share of witches, and it never ended well. Dean was stubborn about sticking to that fact, the memory of Ruby leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. The demon was once a witch when she was human, and due to her treachery, Dean hated both witches and demons, although from time to time was forced to work with them, much to his disdain. 

Sam thought about it for a minute and then said, “Let’s go check it out.”  

“Are you serious?” Dean smacked him upside the head. “This could be a trap.” His mind was reeling from all their recent encounters. Who knew what the hell this was? Shapeshifter? Demon? It could be freaking anything. And his brother just wanted to check it out? And who exactly           is Voldemort?! 

“Well if it is a trap then maybe we could set a trap for them.” Sam gave him a small shrug. 

“But what if they anticipate us setting a trap, so they set a trap, to trap our trap that we were using to trap them before they trap us,” Dean said it like it should make perfect sense. Even though     it sounded completely insane when he said it out loud. 

“What?” Sam finally looked up from the letter. “Come on dude, how scary could this Minerva McGonagall be?”  

“Very. I’m sure that Minerva McGonagall is one of the teachers at this weirdo school, she has teacher handwriting…. Her G’s look the same as that psycho teacher I had in 5th grade….” Dean shivered involuntarily, “No way man… We didn’t think Ruby was that bad did we?” Dean snapped, nodding when Sam winced.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he made a face at the memory. “But I’m still curious.” 

Dean took the letter from his brother’s hands and studied the innocent-looking parchment; like there was some secret encryption that they were missing that could turn into some deathtrap, or worse. It brought to mind all those spy films when the note always said this note will self-destruct in three… two… one…. BOOM!  

All that Dean could find was the impressive penmanship of a middle-aged woman. He sighed and gave it to Sam. “What are you doing?” Dean grinned as he watched Sam scrutinize the letter like the nerd he was while ignoring the fact that he had just done the same thing. Sam ignored him,      running encryption codes through his head trying to decipher hiding meanings as Dean had done.  

“Whatever man, I’m going to have a drink.” He walked over to the mini bar, silently praying this was a dream within a dream. 

“What the hell?” He tried to open the cabinet and the door was locked.  

“You do know that you have to rent the key to get to the booze?” Sam murmured without taking his eyes off the letter.  

Dean sighed. “It’s not fair that I have to get stuck in this crummy motel with my brother who is obsessing over a letter, obviously written by an owl trainer and I can’t even get drunk to forget it all.”  

Sam smirked at his brother, “Yeah, life isn’t fair, is it?”  

“Shut up bitch,” Dean snapped, rummaging in the duffle bags, and finding another bottle of whiskey. He sighed happily as it ran down his throat, coating his insides with warm bubbles. He fished out the coins he found earlier and turned on the bed, smiling to himself.   

They kept going back and forth over the pros and cons of the letter while it lay on the table, just like an ordinary letter. But with everything the boys had to deal with over the past few years nothing surprised them. For all they knew, it could explode in the next few seconds. But Sam still wanted to go, he smiled as he petted the owl’s head, and it started nibbling affectionately at the zip of his jacket.   

“No way man, it’s too dangerous.” Dean put his foot down. “Besides, she didn’t even give us directions! How are we supposed to get to this place? Tie ourselves to the stupid bird’s legs?” He gestured to the owl that was still perched on Sam’s arm like it was waiting on something. Then it swooped up to swiftly clamp its beak down on Dean’s fingers.  

“Shit! What the hell bird?!” Dean whacked at the owl, and it let go and flew across the room and then towards the open window. 

“That’s what you get for calling it stupid.” Sam rolled his eyes and tried not to snicker at his brother. “What’s the harm in just meeting with her? If it makes you feel better, we can take some guns just to be safe.”  

“But we have no idea what she’s capable of!” Dean snapped. “She could be a demon, spirit, Wraith, or she could be a witch and hex us into oblivion.”   

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s theatrics. He took out the bandages and patched up Dean’s fingers.              

“Look man, why don’t you just call Cas? He could have some info for us on these Hogwarts people.” Sam offered as he put up the First Aid Kit, hopefully for the last time tonight, err, morning, according to the clock on the nightstand. 

Dean sighed in defeat.

“What the hell. Cas?” he called. “We need your help with something. Get your feathery angel ass down here.”  

A loud fluttering of wings sounded through the room along with the sound of clothes whirling through the air as the Angel of the Lord swept into the rundown motel room. He was of average height, with black shaggy hair, midnight blue eyes, pale skin and a confused expression and his head tilted to the side. He wore his usual clothes, a white shirt, open suit jacket, slacks, a dark blue tie worn backwards and loose around his neck. A tan trench-coat covered the suit and hung open.  

“Hello Dean,” Cas said in a gravelly voice. His gaze towards the older hunter. “Sam,” he finished.  

“Hey Cas,” Dean replied quickly and Sam nodded.  

“Why have you called me?” Castiel asked as he looked between the two brothers quizzically.  

“We need your help. We got this letter a little while ago. Could you tell us if they are telling the truth?” Sam handed the parchment to the Angel, and he scanned it, blue eyes scanning the page rapidly. 

When he finished, he looked up, handing the note back to Dean. “This woman is telling the truth. She is not evil and needs your help,” Castiel said simply.  

“But we’ve faced witches before. She doesn’t seem to do that kind of stuff,” Sam stated, confused.

Castiel shook his head before continuing his explanation. “These wizards are different. It’s in their blood, they are more like Wiccans than actual witches and warlocks. They get their powers from their bloodlines. Or if they’re born to non-magical families, and mostly channel their magic through their wands.”  

“Wands?” Dean asked incredulously. “Seriously? Like an enchanted stick?”  

Sam rolled his eyes, wishing that Dean would stop being an idiot. “Do you know anything about their culture, their society?”  

“Well, they are almost the same as humans. They have a government called ’The Ministry of Magic’, and they have established eleven known schools, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Scotland being the most famous. There are two more in Europe; the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, a more formal school for young witches and wizards that is in France, and the Durmstrang Institute for Magical Learning in Scandinavia is more closely related to the Dark Arts.” 

“Dark Arts?” The brothers said in unison.

“The Dark Art is similar to the witches that you have dealt with before. Wizards who participate in the Dark Arts pledge their allegiance to a wizard named Voldemort, who is normally referred to as You-Know-Who. His other known aliases are He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” Cas finished his explanation, noticing the bottle of whiskey and frowned. “You are drinking this early?”  

“No….” Dean hid the bottle, clearing his throat before he began again. “So, these people at 

Hogwarts. They’re harmless to us?”  

“Yes, unless you do something to upset them.”  

“Which, in case you haven’t noticed, we tend to do a lot,” Dean smirked. Sam snorted. 

“What are they going to do?” Sam asked in a patronizing tone. “Poke us to death with their magic sticks? Kill us? We’ve died before.”  Evidently, some of soulless Sam’s snarkiness had stuck, Dean noted.

Dean and Cas exchanged looks. “Shut the hell up Sam,” Dean scowled.  

“So, do you think we should meet them?” Sam asked his bitch face on full display.  

“Yes, I do,” Castiel nodded. “They are of no harm to you.”  

Dean and Sam nodded, trusting in the Angel’s assessment completely.  

“Cas, why do hunters not know about them? A hunter must have come across one before,” Sam inquired, wanting more information before he went in to meet this witch. Dean could see the gears turning in his little brother’s mind.  

“They have, but the witches and wizards wiped the hunters’ memories if they found out about them to protect themselves,” Castiel explained. “And the schools are heavily warded against the non-magical population.”

“Thanks,” they said and with a flutter of invisible wings, Castiel was gone.  

Dean turned and collapsed on the bed, snoring before his head hit the pillow. The bottle banged the floor with a dull thunk. It didn’t break, but it lay on its side, the cap still on. Sam rolled his eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Boise, Idaho, 19 ^th August 2011

The morning of August 19^th brought with it cloudy skies and bad weather that would make even the happiest person alive miserable. Despite the weather, Sam and Dean Winchester slept uncomfortably. Not that they weren’t used to it. 

Sam woke first, his bleary hazel green eyes opening to stare at the ceiling. He yawned then winced in pain, feeling the stinging burn of the gash that had been stitched up. Frowning as he sat up, his older brother was still laying on his stomach, over the covers, fully clothed with his head to the side and his mouth slightly open. He snorted in amusement. 

Getting out of bed, he walked to the tiny bathroom that lay across from the beds. The room was cool, forming goosebumps on Sam’s skin. The prospect of a good shower made him feel a lot better as he entered the bathroom and turned the shower on. The hot water gushed from the nozzle and Sam smiled a little as he got undressed. He stepped into the shower, enjoying the hot water as it flowed down his skin. After his hair had been washed with what Dean dubbed ’chick shampoo’, he got out and wrapped the towel around his waist as he heard sounds outside the door, surely Dean getting up. He heard the alarm clock go off about ten seconds before he heard it crash against a wall. Yes, Dean Winchester was definitely awake.

“Hey Sasquatch! I know you’re tall enough to hit the ceiling in there but save some hot water for me!” his brother’s voice grumbled through the door frame. Sam rolled his eyes. He got dressed in his blue and white flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. Both items had tiny holes in them, small trophies from previous hunts. The cut near his thigh from skidding across the dirt to avoid an attack. There had been a small piece of glass sticking out of the ground that found its way into his leg. Dean had cussed the whole way to the ER two days later because the cut got infected. They spent three days in the hospital with Sam telling his brother not to worry over him. Then Dean would reply, ’That’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m the big brother.’

Sam opened the door to see his brother at the table examining the note. “She said she’d be here at two in the afternoon,” Dean stated. Sam looked at his watch. “It’s only ten in the morning,” he answered. “You would know if you hadn’t broken the clock….” Seeing the broken pieces of plastic and gears on the floor.

Dean shrugged at the pieces. “We might as well pack. And get some breakfast,” Dean left the room with a smile on his face at the prospect of food.

Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala. “I’ll get breakfast. What do you want?” 

“Usual!” Dean called back, then added threateningly. “Be careful with Baby…” Sam left the room, closing the door behind him. He walked towards Dean’s baby. 

Their father had given Dean that car when he had turned eighteen and Dean had looked after it ever since. In a bizarre twist of fate, when Dean had been brought back to 1973 by Zachariah, Dean had helped his then nineteen or twenty-year-old father choose the car instead of the Volkswagen van he was originally going to buy. 

Dean usually never let anyone but himself drive the car. But on the rare occasion that Dean was either unconscious from a hunt or booze Sam would get the honour of driving his beloved car. He remembered the accident with their father. They had been driving, only an hour after the Yellow-Eyed Demon had stopped possessing his father. 

They had carried a barely conscious and badly hurt Dean to the Impala when a huge demon driving a semi-truck had smashed into them, forcing the car back before finally stopping as a useless heap of metal. The three of them had been rushed to the hospital. Sam was okay, which was a little surprising even though he wasn’t on the side of the car that the truck hit, he had only gained a few bruises and cuts. His father had got a broken right arm and broken leg with cuts covering his exposed skin. 

Sam had only realized later, that the reason he had not been hurt so badly was probably that Yellow Eyes didn’t want Sam dead before he would form his demon army and make the special children fight to the death…

Dean had got the worst of it, he was comatose. It was terrifying as the doctors told him that his brother would never wake up. How could they say that? They didn’t know Dean. He was a stubborn bastard, a guaranteed trait inherited by Winchesters. Then Dean had woken up. It was the best Sam had ever felt, seeing his brother alive and awake. Sam remembered walking down the corridor a few hours later after Dean told him what had happened while he was in a coma. A chill ran down his spine as he stopped in his tracks to see his father on the floor, clearly dead. Sam and Dean had both watched as the doctors tried and failed to revive their father. 

’Time of death, 10:41 am.’ The doctor’s voice echoed in his head, thumping against the side of his skull. Sam sighed, it had been devastating. To make it worse, they had found out that John had made a deal to save Dean in exchange for the Colt, which was the demon-killing gun, and his own life. 

He pulled into the first grocery store he found, leaning against the door frame and thought about the last argument that he had with his Dad. 

’Go to hell’ was the last thing he’d ever said to his Dad. Looking at the situation with new eyes, he could understand his Dad’s intentions. Sam was only a baby when his mother died, so he never really knew her, therefore he couldn’t mourn the loss. But for his Dad, and Dean, it meant more to them to kill the demon than it meant to him. 

But his father was right; he should have killed it when he had the chance. How could I have killed it though? He thought to himself. I would have killed Dad in the process. That’s just something I couldn’t live with.  John Winchester had been possessed by the Yellow-Eyed Demon; Sam had the opportunity to kill it. He could have shot his father with the Colt, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He seriously doubted Dean could have either. 

After their father’s death, Sam had never seen Dean so depressed. He drank more, sat alone and wouldn’t answer him when he asked him something. Sam sighed. He got up and got out, walking inside. His hair swept in the breeze, getting in his eyes. It wouldn’t be long before he would have to give himself another homemade haircut. 

He entered the store and walked over to the deli counter. On the other side was a woman with way too much make-up and peroxide blonde hair. “Hey,” the woman smiled. Definitely Dean’s type… He thought.

“Hey, could I get two rolls with bacon sausage and egg please?” he asked the woman whose name tag read Cindy. Sam nodded as she started making the rolls, looking in the distance. He looked out the window, seeing a small tabby grey and black cat on the wall that bordered the store’s parking lot. 

His phone pinged and Sam looked back, pulling his phone from his pocket. He looked at the screen, the cat forgotten momentarily. The display read a text message from Dean. ’Get more beer on the way back. All out.’

“Of course,” Sam muttered to himself. 

The peroxide haired woman came back with their order. Sam thanked her and retrieved the beer and whiskey before paying, along with a few snacks and Cokes. Placing the food on the passenger seat, he drove back to the motel. 

As he drove, his mind wandered back to the letter. Cas had told him that the woman was telling the truth about everything. But was Cas telling the truth? Would he lie to them? No. Sam shook the thought off. Cas wouldn’t do that. 

He arrived back at the motel and with a sigh, Sam got out of the car and went to their room. Fumbling for the key, he pulled it out and opened the door to see Dean putting their things in their duffel bags. He was in a different shirt and his leather jacket was on along with a new pair of trousers. 

“Hey,” Sam said as he set the food down. Dean approached him and took his food from Sam and grabbed a fork. He dug into his food and Sam rolled his eyes as he got his own. They ate in silence and when they were finished, they threw the paper plates of food into the trash.

“We have a few hours to kill,” Dean said. “Might as well clean the guns.” Sam nodded as Dean dug out the weapons bag. 

He ran a cloth over his favourite pistol, dragging the oil away with it as he cleaned it. Sam joined him. The exercise didn’t involve much to talk about other than asking for the oil or the occasional comment about picking up more ammunition. Three hours later at one o’clock, they decided they had to do something. 

“We have to get ready,” Sam said. Dean nodded and threw him a can of spray paint and pointed to the ceiling. Sam nodded as Dean rummaged a bag of rock salt from the duffel. He poured a new salt line in the doorway and along the only window that was at the back. Sam sprayed the ceiling with the symbol he knew so well.

Dean got up, the amulet bouncing slightly over his t-shirt. After Dean had thrown it in the trash after getting back from Heaven, Sam had retrieved it. He knew that Dean would regret throwing it away like that. It meant a lot to Dean. Years ago, when they were just kids, Sam was going to give it to their father as a gift for Christmas, but when he never showed, Dean got it instead. It turned out the amulet was special. Cas once said it would glow hot in God’s presence. It was re-gifted to Dean by Sam a few weeks beforehand. Rummaging in his bag, he found it amongst his stuff. His soulless self didn’t bother giving it back. He remembered the surprised look on Dean’s face when he gave it back to him. It was partially an apology for how he had acted, a piss poor one in his opinion. But it was something.

By the time they had finished, it was 1:55 pm. Dean and Sam were standing facing the door, guns in hand, the hair on their arms standing on end in anticipation. A loud crack sounded from behind them and the two brothers whirled around. They looked for the source of the noise and saw nothing out of place except for a tabby grey and black cat sitting calmly on the tiny dining table. 

“That cat was outside the grocery store when I was getting the food,” Sam noted quietly. The cat sat perfectly still, only its eyes moved as it appraised the two men in front of it. 

“First a fuckin’ owl last night, now a cat today?” Dean grumbled, he stepped forward to shoo the cat away when it moved, jumping off of the table, the Winchester’s eyes widened in surprise. The cat became larger and a few seconds later, a woman was standing in front of them. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, but she had an aura that implied that of someone a few decades older. Her face looked strict with jet black hair tied back in a sharp bun under a pointed hat. She wore a plain black dress adorned with the lion symbol Sam and Dean had inspected on the wax seal of the letter. 

Dean and Sam had their guns aimed at her at once. 

“Those are hardly necessary,” the woman said, gesturing to the guns. Neither Winchester relaxed and she rolled her eyes. “Who are you?” Dean growled. 

“Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I’m sure you received my letter yesterday,” Minerva said calmly. She looked around the squalor around her trying to find a decent place to sit, giving up after finding none. 

“Christo,” Dean mumbled. She did not flinch. 

“Latin, impressive. That will come in handy with spell work.” She nodded, satisfied.

“Prove it. How do we know you’re not lying?” Sam demanded. 

Minerva sighed. “If you want proof…” She pulled a small hexagon shaped card somewhere from beneath her robes and tossed it to Dean. He inspected it quickly with a huff of surprise before handing it over to Sam. “I hope that meets your qualifications satisfactorily.”

Sam looked at the card. There was a picture of the woman standing in front of him, but this picture was different. The picture moved like a video, she had a downturned, small mouth as if she had just eaten a lemon, and her arms were crossed, her free hand drumming along her forearm. Then in the next second, she walked out of the frame. Underneath the moving picture was her name ’Minerva McGonagall.’

“It moves!” Dean whispered in shock as he flipped the card over and back again trying to figure out its secrets. 

“Well naturally.” Minerva rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s right, Muggle pictures do not move.” She looked at Sam in particular.

“Did you — did she just call me a Muggle?” Dean stuttered. “What the hell is a Muggle?!” 

“Language please Mr Winchester,” Minerva sounded miffed. “If that doesn’t convince you, maybe this will.” She sat down at the small dinette table and pulled out her ’enchanted stick’ and tapped Sam’s laptop Dean’s bottle of whiskey on the table three times each. “Vera Verto,” she muttered, and the laptop turned into a teacup and the whiskey into a pot of tea.

Both men stood mystified as she poured the tea into the cup and started drinking it. She hid a smile behind the teacup, glad to see her little parlour trick works on adult muggles as well as young children. 

“That was a perfectly good bottle!” Dean whined. “That’s still pretty cool though…” his mind almost went haywire with the possibilities of this. If she can make booze into tea… 

But Sam looked at her darkly. Nothing good can come from a woman who makes hot tea out of whiskey. She completely disregarded Dean’s comment. “Look on the back of the card if you want my credentials.” 

Dean flipped over the card and read it aloud. “’Professor Minerva McGonagall: Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor house and Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She is listed in the Ministry of Magic’s Animagus Registry as a tabby cat with square spectacle markings around the eyes. After graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic for two years then she chose to return to Hogwarts to teach Transfiguration. She replaced her old mentor Albus Dumbledore as the Head of the Transfiguration Department when he ascended to the position of Headmaster.’” He looked at his brother with a shrug. “She seems legit.” Then he put his gun down. 

“Are you serious Dean?!” Sam glared at his brother while keeping his gun trained on the Professor. “We have no idea of what she’s capable of! Look what she did to my laptop and your whiskey bottle? Who knows what she could do to us!” 

“I can assure you, Mr Winchester, that I am not here to do you any harm. I am here to answer any questions you might have regarding the job and to see if you have accepted.” Minerva smiled warmly at Sam and sipped the last bit of the tea left in her cup. She then picked up her wand, which she had left on the table where the men could see it and waved it over the transfigured objects, and they went back to their original state. 

“Sam, you were all for this yesterday!” Dean snapped but Sam didn’t answer. “And over the past couple of years, what hasn’t been done to us? You were cuddling with that damn owl last night for crying out loud.”

Sam sighed. “I guess you’re right. I’m sorry Ms McGonagall,” he said in the polite tone he used when posing as an FBI agent, or what Dean called the ’lawyer’ tone. 

“It’s very understandable Mr Winchester, and please, you may call me Minerva,” Minerva replied with a smile. “I have been in this position before. It is my responsibility to go to Muggleborn homes and tell them that they have magical blood and can attend Hogwarts.” 

“What’s a Muggleborn?” Dean asked as he sat across from her.

“A Muggleborn is a witch or wizard who is born to non-magical, or Muggle, parents,” Minerva explained. 

So that’s why she called us Muggles, Sam thought. “Is Hogwarts anywhere near London?” He remembered Castiel talking about the three schools, also noting Minerva’s British accent. 

“Hogwarts is located in Scotland and has been there for over 1000 years,” Minerva answered.

“What was the House’s thing about?” Sam asked again. Dean shot his brother a smirk. Typical college boy. He was such a nerd. 

“There are four Houses of Hogwarts, named after the four founders, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw.” She flicked her wand and four banners appeared out of thin air. One was a dark red decorated with a golden lion, the one next to it was a golden yellow colour with a black badger, the next was rich emerald green with a silver serpent on it and the last one was royal blue with a bronze eagle. “The students are Sorted into Houses based on their personalities and traits in their first year at the start of term feast. Gryffindors are brave and daring, Hufflepuffs are chosen by their hard-working and loyal natures, Slytherins for their cunning and hunger for power and Ravenclaws are sorted into their House because of their clever minds,” Minerva explained, she flicked her wand again and the banners disappeared. 

The two brothers took a moment to absorb this new information. Dean looked at Sam. I know where you belong, he thought with a smirk. 

Minerva watched the brothers’ exchange with an air of amusement. Dean Winchester looked like he had the personality of the Weasley twins. He seemed mischievous, yet focused, protective of his family. Merlin, help us all…. She thought fondly. Sam, on the other hand, looked eager to learn, but yet was also focused on the task at hand. 

“What subject would we be teaching, Professor?” Sam asked. “What could we teach your students that they wouldn’t be able to learn from you?”

“Ah yes,” Minerva looked through her robes and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper and unfurled it. “Demonology; A study of supernatural creatures.” She let the scroll roll in on itself and handed it to Sam for him to look over the course. “We did research and found out that your father had a lot of experience in this area, and we were going to contact him for the position.” Her eyes were downcast as she continued. “We are so sorry for your loss.” But then she apprised them with a look of pride. “Naturally, as his son’s you will be perfect for the job if you agree to the position. You would be teaching our students about fighting demons and other supernatural creatures because we fear that You-Know-Who may involve them in his quest for power and to help kill Harry Potter.”

“Okay, but who is Harry Potter?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, what’s so special about him and this Voldemort dude?” Dean piped up.

They both noticed when she winced. “Please don’t say that name. Harry Potter is legendary in our world. When he was a year old, You-Know-Who came into his home and…” She struggled to get the words out. “Murdered his parents. He then tried to kill Harry but couldn’t,” Her voice turned mystified. “He was thought to be destroyed that night, but it appears he has returned, two years ago, when Harry was fourteen. Potter confirmed it after bringing back one of our Hufflepuff students that You-Know-Who had murdered. The Ministry of Magic simply refused to believe that he had returned. It was only after he turned up in the Ministry one day last June to kill Harry that they finally started to believe him. You-Know-Who is the name we have given to Voldemort,” she tried to hide her wince, “because most of the wizarding population are terrified to even speak his name,” Minerva told the brothers. 

“Poor kid,” Sam said sadly. Dean nodded in agreement. Harry seemed to have a similar life to theirs, orphaned at a young age.  

“So, we have to train these kids like our Dad trained us?” the elder Winchester asked. “God help them.” He added with a snort as he took a swig of whiskey.

“Well, we would hope you could teach them practical lessons where training will be involved, but also having classes in teaching them about the creatures you encountered in your lives,” Minerva told them, waving her hand at the letter in Sam’s hand. “It’s all there in the scroll.”

Dean didn’t even have to look at Sam to know what his answer would be. “We’ll do it.” 

“Wait Minerva, why did you change from a cat when you got here?” Sam asked. 
Minerva smiled. “Oh yes. I am an Animagus, which means I can turn into an animal at will. If that is all I should be going now. I will return in a few days to bring you to London where we can get your supplies for the year. The term begins on September first and I will give you more information about that when I see you again. Goodbye,” Minerva smiled and stood up and shook their hands stiffly and without another word she disappeared with a crack.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Dean and Sam watched as the witch disappeared, the two sitting in silence, still getting used to the idea of good witches.

“That was a lot to take in,” Sam said, checking over his laptop after Minerva disenchanted it. A mental image of Gollum with long girly Sam hair clutching a laptop came bursting into Dean’s mind. My precious… Dean held back a laugh.

“And that’s saying something, coming from you,” Dean grinned, trying to get the image out of his head, so he wouldn’t laugh. He turned around wanting to make sure the whiskey wasn’t tea. Sam gave Dean his trademark bitch face and Dean laughed in response, nearly falling off his chair. 

Sam, ignoring his brother’s outburst, sobered up. 

“What do you think of all this?” Sam asked

Dean frowned. “I think it’s crappy for them, especially that Harry kid. Lost both his parents in one night. I thought our lives sucked.”  He thought back to his most recent nightmare, made up of mostly sounds: The crackling noise of fire-eating through the walls, his father’s voice echoing in his ears, the quiet cries of baby Sam in his arms. And then he was running, not looking back at the house, not wanting it to be real. Screaming at his father to find his mother. He shook away his nightmare and added. “He grew up alone.” At least Dean had Sam and his father.

“Yeah true,” Sam agreed, he ran a hand over his forehead. 

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, wondering if he should redo the stitches from yesterday.  

“Yeah I’m fine,” Sam answered. His head throbbed as he looked up to his brother’s hazel green eyes. 

The stitches in his forehead weren’t helping anything. Dean watched his brother with focused eyes. He had told Sam to be careful and don’t scratch the wall. The wall that Death himself had put up in his mind to hold back his little brother’s memories of Lucifer’s Cage. Even Cas hadn’t been sure that Sam would wake from his coma-like state after Death had restored his soul. All Dean could do was sit at Sam’s side and hope for him to wake. 

He remembered his argument with Cas that day about Dean’s part in restoring Sam’s soul. 

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I warned you not to put that thing back inside him,” Cas had said.

“What was I supposed to do? Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn’t open fire?” 

“Let me tell you what his soul felt like when I touched it. Like it had been skinned alive, Dean. If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright.” 

 If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright. Castiel’s words echoed in Dean’s head. 

“Can I get you anything?” Dean asked, trying to get the nagging angel’s voice out of his head. 

“What are you now, my waitress?” Sam snorted. Dean glared at him. 

“I’m just trying to make you feel better. Don’t be a bitch,” he snapped. Here he was trying to keep his brother from having a mental breakdown, and he was being such a primadonna……

“Yeah jerk, I’m fine,” Sam repeated with a shrug, the throbbing in his head becoming worse. 

“Yeah, you look fine,” Dean noted sarcastically, nodding towards him, looking at his pale face. “All I’m saying is everything’s gonna be okay.” 

“I know. Thanks, De--” There was a sudden dull thud as Sam dropped to the floor, convulsing. Dean’s heart almost stopped.

“Sammy? Sammy?!” Dean was up at once, hurtling towards his brother. No! Fuck, fuck fuck! Dean thought desperately. No! He was fine a minute ago! Now, Sam was convulsing harder, his mouth opened wide in a silent scream. His eyes begged for mercy and a release from the pain he was enduring. Dean held his brother as still as he could, he cringed against the carpeted ground. 

“Sammy, talk to me!” Dean begged. No, please. Sammy, please be okay. I just got you back little brother. You can’t do this to me now.  It felt as if Dean was being strangled as he begged his brother not to leave him. 

Sam however was trapped in his mind. His surroundings were nothing but fire, igniting him and burning him alive. His face contorted and in his mind, he screamed in pain. Lucifer’s voice drifted through his mind, a cold chill running down his spine. You’re staying here now Sammy. All mine. 

Dean felt his brother’s body grow limp. Sam’s eyes slipped shut, and he gave in to the darkness. 

His blood ran cold as he saw his brother’s convulsions stop, completely lifeless… No Sammy, please. He shook his brother desperately, tears clouding his eyes. 

“Sam? Sam. S-Sam?” he stuttered. “Oh, come on.” He shook Sam more forcefully. 

“Sammy! Come on, come on. Come on, damn it,” he begged. One of his hands rested on Sam’s forehead. He lifted his other shaking hand and rested it against his brother’s neck, praying for a pulse. He felt the rapid thumping underneath his fingertips. Sam was alive, but he wasn’t breathing. Sammy…

Sam’s eyes shot open, he inhaled sharply, gulping in the air he desperately needed. Dean let go of him, worried Sam would hit him in his panic. 

“Hey, hey, hey, you with me?” Dean said softly, relieved to see his brother awake. Sam groaned loudly. Dean hauled Sam from the floor. “Come on. Come on,” Dean soothed gently.

⸸

He and Dean were sitting at the table an hour later. Sam’s fingers were wrapped around a steaming cup of coffee, enjoying the warmth the cup gave him. His head was still throbbing, and he felt weak. Like he had gone 10 rounds with Muhammed Ali. Sam groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“How d’you feel?” Dean asked, tensing a little. He felt like a jerk for asking him for the hundredth time. But Sam’s seizure freaked him out. Images of Death putting Sam’s soul back kept resurfacing from the depth of his subconscious.  

“Fuck, like I got hit by a… planet,” Sam answered with a scowl. He raised the coffee cup to his lips and took a sip. The warmth combined with the bitter taste of caffeine nicely to calm his nerves slightly and helped him to relax. Dean nodded, taking a drink from his coffee. 

“Well, lucky for you, I’m a doctor.” Dean held up a container of pills. “I got this,” He put them on the table. 

“What are they?” Sam asked, examining the bottle. 

Dean frowned, thinking back to the hot chick at the pharmacy that he charmed into letting him back into the pharmacist’s office. When she was sufficiently distracted, he searched through the stacks of prescriptions looking for anything saying, ’pain reliever’ or ’make the headache go away.’ “Effective,” Dean answered simply with a shrug. 

“I’m okay. Thanks,” Sam said, pushing the plastic bottle of pills away. Feeling bad that Carl Pegango would be without his OxyContin for a few more days.  

“Suit yourself,” Dean sighed. He pocketed the drugs, knowing that before long one of them will need it. 

Sam paused before asking. “How long was I out?” 

Dean took a drink before answering. “About two or three minutes.” Two or three minutes too long, he added in his head. “Why, what’d it feel like to you?”

“About a week, give or take,” Sam frowned. 

“You want to talk about it?” Dean asked. He knew he was going into a chick-flick broment, but he didn’t give a damn, it felt like they needed it. 

“It?” Sam asked. Dean had never really been good at expressing his feelings. Sam was used to it though. 

“Yeah, whatever that was. I mean, it was like you were fuckin’ electrocuted,” Dean said, flinching slightly. 

“Look, I mean, it wasn’t fun.” Sam let out a short laugh that wasn’t humorous. “But I-I’m… Fine,” Dean scowled, hating it when Sam told him he was fine. When Sam used that he was anything but fine.

“Fine.” Dean snapped. “It was Hell, wasn’t it?” He felt the urge to continue at Sam’s wince. “You got a big, fat face full of hell. Ever cross your mind that you could’ve died?” 

“Oh, come on.” Sam rolled his eyes, taking his cup to the sink. Taking longer than necessary to keep Dean from scrutinizing his every move. Or at least, make it less obvious. 

“I’m serious,” Dean pressed on. “And none of this ’it’s just a flesh wound’ shit, ’cause we did it your way. We let you explore, and every bad thing that I said would happen, happened. So, guess what, past stays past. We’re not kicking that wall again.” 

“So, I’m supposed to just ignore it?” Sam asked incredulously. 

“Yes. If the shoe fits, wear it.” 

Sam sighed heavily. “I don’t see how I’m just supposed to ignore it.” 

Dean flashed him a weak grin. “Beer helps,” he said, lifting his bottle slightly. Sam laughed a little. 

A sudden knock on the door reached their ears. The brothers tensed, wondering who else would be coming to see them. “After the morning we had, if it’s a damn troll….” Dean got up and opened it to reveal a man of late fifties, with greying brown hair and beard, green eyes and had a sturdy build. He smiled. “Close enough.” 

“Hey boys,” The man nodded to each of them. 

“Hey Bobby,” Dean answered and hugged him. Sam came up behind his brother and hugged Bobby. 

“So, what’s with the visit?” Dean smiled. 

“I called him,” Sam explained. “I figured we could use some help. He was nearby.” 

“Here I am. How are you, Sam?” The hunter approached Sam, looking him over with an expert eye. 

“Fine,” Sam replied. Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye, but Sam ignored it. 

“What happened?” Bobby demanded. “I ain’t stupid. I may have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night.” Something was going on, and he wanted to know what. 

“Sam’s wall… it cracked a little. He got a glimpse of hell,” Dean explained.

“It’s a good thing you called me, ya idjits!” Bobby snapped. 

“We didn’t have much of a choice… Sam had a freaking seizure and I didn’t know what the fuck to do. “ Dean frowned. 

Bobby took a deep breath. “Okay, so the wall cracked. I thought Death told you not to scratch, Sam.” 

“You think I don’t know about that?” Sam sighed. Bobby nodded silently. He looked at the table to see a bottle of whiskey. He stood and walked towards the cabinet and got out three whiskey glasses. As he poured the amber coloured liquid into the glasses, he noticed a letter on the table.

“What’s that about?” Bobby asked. “Passin’ out love notes?”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, wondering who would be the first to speak. Dean wanted to play a game of rock, paper, scissors, but Sam rolled his eyes. After a silent minute-long stand-off, Dean finally sighed and told Bobby the story. 

“Are you two stupid or somethin’?” Bobby didn’t look up from his glass. “Crowley is close to breaking the code to purgatory open, and you’re going off to play wizards? It’s out of the question.” 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Bobby, I think we are old enough to make our own decisions without consulting you,” he snapped. 

“Yeah, I’m sure ya idjit. I just want to make sure you don’t get your guts ripped out!” Bobby scowled. “God forbid I try to look out for you! You barely look after yourselves!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Look, I wasn’t too jazzed about this either at first, but we’ve already consulted with Cas and Professor McGonagall.” 

“You called Cas?” Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow. “How the hell would he help anything?” 

“Well, Cas has been watching over the planet for thousands of years right?” Dean pointed out. Bobby nodded.

“And this ’McGonagall’ person?” Bobby retored, picking up the letter carefully. 

“She seems to be fine.” Sam leaned up against the door frame. “Her credentials are credible.” He tossed Bobby the hexagon-shaped card. 

“What is this?” Bobby flipped over the card. 

“It’s the card that she gave us when she showed up,” Dean replied. 

“You mean she got past all the traps that you set?” Bobby sounded incredulous. 

“Yep,” Dean popped the ’p’. “Devil’s Traps, salt, Christo, she just popped in as a damn cat and turned that whiskey into tea.” 

Bobby looked at them incredulously, studying the whiskey bottle. “That doesn’t make a lick of sense. Why would a witch need you to fight a wizarding war anyway?” 

“They don’t want us to fight, they want us to be teachers. According to McGonagall, this Dark Wizard might recruit the supernatural,” Sam answered. 

“You’re positive this is legit?” Bobby pressed, looking each boy in the eye. 

“Yeah, we’re sure Bobby,” Sam replied, his head throbbing, but ignoring the pain. 

“As long as you’re sure,” Bobby nodded, trusting their judgement. “I need to go and see if there’s anything new about this whole Purgatory crap,” Bobby muttered. “I’ll see you,” he said, hugging both Winchesters. 

“See ya, Bobby. We’ll call,” Dean answered. 

“Ya better!” they heard Bobby call back as the door closed. “Idjits.” Sam and Dean shared a grin. 

⸸

Three days passed and the 22nd of August at 7 am rolled around. Sam and Dean were still sleeping, Dean on his stomach on top of the covers, mouth slightly open. Dean’s face twitched slightly in his sleep. The nightmare was in full force. 

Sam was on the table in Bobby’s panic room. His eyes were wide, glazed with fear. He convulsed

wildly, and Dean knew his wall was gone, crumbled. Castiel was at the door, unable to come in because of the Enochian signs covering the curved walls. 

“I told you this would happen, Dean,” he said, and he glared at him. 

“Shut it Cas! He’ll be fine. He’s always fine,” but as he spoke, Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head and he grew still. 

Dean’s eyes shot open and his breath hitched. 

“Are you okay?” he heard Sam ask. He must have woken during the nightmare. 

“Yeah I’m fine,” Dean replied, getting up out of bed and going to the counter, not meeting his brother’s eye. “Want a coffee?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Sam said. Dean made the coffee, focusing on the task rather than wanting Sam to badger him with questions. 

“Here Jolly Green Giant,” he grinned, knowing acting like an ass would usually put Sam off for a few hours. Sam scowled at him. Perfect. They sat, drinking their coffees, and munching some cereal, Lucky Charms, a childhood favourite of theirs. The drab beige walls dampened their moods, not looking forward to the long drive to wherever the hell Minerva wanted to take them. 

“I hate these shitty motels,” Dean grumbled as a loud crack sounded in the room. Dean turned around rapidly to see Minerva standing there. 

“You have got to stop doing that,” Dean said, grabbing his chest where his heart was thumping erratically. 

“My apologies,” Minerva replied. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning Minnie,” Dean smirked, recovering from his near heart attack. Minerva raised an eyebrow. Dean wisely decided to shut up. 

“So, you’re here to bring us to get the stuff we need for school?” Sam asked. Minerva nodded. 

“Yes, I am. There will be several things we need to buy for your school year including quills, parchment, books, and other things. But firstly, we must go to your vault in Gringotts bank to collect your money,” Minerva explained. 

“What do you mean?” Dean asked. “And how in the hell do we get there?”

“We have put your first month’s wages and a yearly budget in a vault in Gringotts for you,” Minerva told them, handing a key to Sam. “And if you don’t control your language Mr Winchester I will have to use you as a test subject for some new transfigurations.”

“Thanks,” Sam smiled, loving the fact that someone had finally put Dean in his place. Dean looked at her wide-eyed, before looking back at the whiskey bottle. 

“Our pleasure,” Minerva replied. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at an old sock. “To answer your rude question, this is how you will get to Gringotts. Portus,” she said simply, and the sock glowed blue. 

“What the hell is that?” Dean exclaimed. 

“That is a Portkey. It will bring you to London, where we must go to get our supplies. Portkeys are usually made from ordinary things that people would think of as rubbish.” 

“Oh right,” Sam said. 

Rubbish, I guess I’m gonna have to get used to the English slang, Dean thought with a smirk.

“Yes, I need you both to put a finger on it,” Minerva said, holding it out within their reach. The brothers, after exchanging a look and raised eyebrows, touched it. 

It happened immediately. They felt as though a hook just behind their navels had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. Their feet left the ground. They were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling colour. The brothers’ forefingers were stuck to the sock as though it was pulling them magnetically onward and then the three pairs of feet slammed into the ground. Minerva righted herself calmly as Sam and Dean landed on their behinds. Dean had a greenish tinge to his skin, holding his hand over his mouth. 

He searched for a trash can quickly. “I’m gonna be sick,” Dean muttered. “I thought flying was bad.”

“Head between your knees,” Sam advised, already assuming the position, letting nausea pass. 

“Shuddup,” Dean muttered as he took deep breaths. “I am so not doing that again.” 

Minerva gave him a rare smile. “Yes, it can be quite nauseating the first time. When you’re ready we must get going.” 

“Where are we?” Sam groaned, finally looking up to assess his surroundings. 

“An alley in London. We will have to finish our journey on foot,” Minerva informed. 

Dean snorted. She sounds like we’re searching for the freakin’ holy grail or something.

The brothers took in their surroundings, having never been outside the US, and not so quickly either. But they didn’t have much time for sightseeing. Minerva led them out of a small alleyway and down a crowded street. They passed bookshops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas. It was hard enough to keep up with her, even if she was the only person on the street that was wearing an emerald green cloak. It flapped behind her, oddly reminding Dean of a Batman cape.

“Hey Sam, I wonder if we’ll get to wear capes like that.” Dean punched his brother with a grin. Sam rolled his eyes.

Minerva came to an abrupt halt, causing Dean to run into Sam, the eldest shuffling, embarrassed. “This is it, the Leaky Cauldron, it is a famous place.” It was a tiny, grubby-looking bar. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big bookshop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron at all. 

But if I was going to hide something, Sam thought to himself, I would hide it in plain sight. “Can they see it?” Sam asked. 

“No, Muggles normally cannot see it, but there have of course been exceptions made,” Minerva explained. 

Dean and Sam didn’t see much about the place for it to catch the eye of a passer-by. For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby, the view didn’t seem to improve much as they walked in. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe, she was appraising the two of them behind Minerva. A shiver passing down Dean’s spine at her look.  A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Minerva; they nodded politely at her, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, “Hello Professor.”

“Hello Tom,” Minerva greeted. “I’d like you to meet Sam and Dean Winchester. They will be teaching at Hogwarts this year.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Tom nodded. Sam shifted uncomfortably as he noticed the eyes on him and his brother. He couldn’t look anywhere without meeting a curious pair of eyes.

“You too,” Dean answered. 

“We have a room for you here until term starts,” Minerva explained, handing them a key. “Come on, we need to go to Gringotts.” Sam and Dean nodded, not oblivious to the stares they were getting from the witches and wizards. Minerva led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds poking through the cobblestones.

“Why were they all staring at us?” Sam muttered.

“It is highly unusual for a Muggle to know about our world unless they have a magical relative. This is an entirely new thing, Muggles teaching at Hogwarts,” Minerva explained. 

“Awesome,” Dean muttered with a scowl. “Hey Sam, Broomhilda was checking you out in there. Want me to go back in there and get her number?” Sam punched Dean in the shoulder.

Minerva was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can trying to ignore the brother’s banter. She wondered half to herself how many young impressionable children these boys will teach bad habits to. 

“Stand back,” she advised. Sam and Dean did as she said, exchanging a glance. She tapped the wall three times with the point of her wand. The brick wriggled and in the middle, a small hole appeared. It grew wider and wider and a second later they were facing an archway that led onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. 

“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” said Minerva.

Dean and Sam grinned in unison, “Awesome...”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, England, 20 ^th August 2011

Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore approached the back door of the Burrow, which was surrounded by the familiar litter of old Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons. Dumbledore knocked three times and Harry saw sudden movement behind the kitchen window. Harry’s mind was still reeling from today’s events. Meeting Slughorn had been strange. He was an old colleague of Dumbledore’s and back in the day had worked in Hogwarts as the Potions Professor. Slughorn disguised himself as an armchair, paranoid that Death Eaters were after him. 

“Who’s there?” said a nervous voice he recognized as Mrs Weasley’s as they approached. She was peering from behind the door.

“It is I, Dumbledore, bringing Harry.” The door opened at once. There stood Mrs Weasley, wearing an old green dressing gown. She was slightly plump, with shoulder-length red hair with kind features that lit up the moment her eyes caught sight of Harry.

“Harry, dear! Merlin, Albus, you frightened me.” Molly’s eyes darted around in the darkness as she fanned herself trying to calm her nerves.

“Slughorn proved much more persuasive than I had expected. Harry’s doing, of course,” Dumbledore said as they walked inside.

“Harry, give me your bags, go and sit by the fire. You must be freezing. Albus, would you like some tea?” Mrs Weasley asked.

“Mrs Weasley, I’m fine,” Harry answered as he carried his trunk and owl cage in and put them on the table. Hedwig hooted happily from inside the cage. She was grateful to be out of the harsh weather.

“Are you sure dear? How about some soup?” Mrs Weasley replied with a smile. “It’s no trouble at all,” she added, pulling out her wand and pointing it at the dishes in the sink. An iron pot hovered in the air for a bit before settling down on the stove.

“That would be great Mrs Weasley,” Harry said gratefully. “Thanks.”

“No bother at all,” Mrs Weasley smiled back. She bustled around the kitchen, humming to herself.

“Honestly, you and Ronald...” she sighed, looking him up and down. “Both of you look as though you’ve had stretching jinxes put on you. I swear Ron’s grown four inches since I last bought him school robes.”

As Harry sat down, a furry ginger cat with a squashed face lumped onto his knees and settled there, purring. He grinned at the familiar feline, asking “So, Hermione is here then?” as he tickled Crookshanks behind the ears.

“Oh yes, she arrived the day before yesterday,” said Mrs Weasley, tapping the large iron pot with her wand. It began to bubble immediately. The smell of onion soup wafted towards Harry’s nostrils, and he smiled. He hadn’t realized the trip would make him as hungry as it did.

Mrs Weasley handed Harry a bowl of soup with a few slices of brown bread.

“Thanks, Mrs Weasley,” Harry smiled.

“Harry?” a voice called, and they turned to see a tall, freckled, red-headed figure come down the stairs. “Hey mate!”

“Hey Ron,” Harry said, but was cut off by a shout of “Harry!” and a blur of brown as he felt Hermione’s arms encircle his shoulders. 

“How have you been? We’ve been looking forward to seeing you for ages!” she said rapidly. Dumbledore chuckled. 

“Molly, I know it is late, but I need to call an Order meeting. I would ask that the children are allowed to attend,” Dumbledore said.

“Albus, the Order meetings have-” Mrs Weasley began, but Albus held up a hand.

“Please Molly,” Dumbledore began. “It concerns the new teachers I have arranged for this year.”

“Slughorn? But we already know,” Molly said in a confused tone.

“I will call the meeting, and it will be revealed,” Dumbledore said calmly and raised his wand with his uninjured hand.

It took around ten minutes for the members of the Order of the Phoenix to arrive. Soon, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Tonks, Lupin, Bill, Fleur, Fred, George, Kingsley, Professor McGonagall, Severus, Hiesta Jones, Mad-Eye Moody and Mundungus, along with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting around the table. They waited for Dumbledore to speak.

“It has come to my attention that we have some new business to attend to.” Dumbledore directed his attention to Professor McGonagall. She set her teacup down and addressed them. 

“Under the instruction of Albus I have paid a visit to the United States of America.”

“The United States?” Hermione questioned. 

“What were you doing there, Professor?” Harry wondered what she would be doing on that side of the world. It was certainly not for a pleasure trip that’s for sure. 

“Fancy a holiday?” Ron snorted. “The last place I would expect you to pick would be America Professor.” He stopped smiling when his mother gave him a stern look.

“I was meeting our newest staff members.” Professor McGonagall replied, trying to keep up a look of indifference.

“New Professors?” Ron groaned. “And that means another subject that I’ll probably fail.” 

“Be quiet Ron.” Hermione hissed, eager to hear about the prospect of a new class. “What subjects will these new Professors teach?”

“Demonology.” Professor McGonagall sipped her tea as the others processed this. 

“As in the study of demons?” Molly asked in a concerned tone. 

“Yes Molly, I’m afraid so,” Dumbledore answered her. “With Voldemort,” -everyone but Dumbledore and Harry shuddered at the name- “gaining new members into his ranks, the possibility of the demonic variety is great. I thought that it would be to our advantage to have a skilled demon hunter on our side to instruct our students on the proper way to dispose of these creatures.”
They all sat in silence and absorbed everything that Dumbledore had said.

“So, will these new Professors be teaching us spells and counter curses?” Ginny wondered.

“Well, not exactly Miss Weasley.” Professor McGonagall tried to find the right words to use.

“You see, these new Professors were not brought up in a magical learning environment.”

“So, they are Muggleborns?” Hermione guessed.

“Well, not really. They are-”

“They are Muggles,” Dumbledore revealed, cutting Professor McGonagall short. “Average Muggles.”

“Muggles? How fascinating!” Mr Weasley was astounded. “I can’t wait to meet them!”

“But Professor, there hasn’t been a single Muggle teacher at Hogwarts since… well… since forever!” Hermione exclaimed, quickly going through the roster of the administration at Hogwarts.

“Which is precisely why I am bringing them in, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore told them. “I have heard what they have been through in their lives and I can think of no one better to instruct this new class.” 

“So, you think they can teach us to fight?” Harry asked, thinking of the possibilities of using hand-to-hand combat with the Death Eaters, smiling in satisfaction at the thought of punching Malfoy.

“Yes, I believe they do,” Dumbledore replied. “I was originally going to ask their father to come too, but I discovered that their father passed away as of around four years ago,” he finished sadly. “They’ve been travelling aimlessly ever since.”

“Their mother must be devastated,” Mrs Weasley said sadly, heartbroken over the loss.

Dumbledore patted her on the hand gently. “Their mother passed away when they were children.”

“Oh, those poor dears,” Mrs Weasley gasped.

Harry looked down at the table, the irony wasn’t lost on him that the two men had nearly the same upbringing as himself. 

“Yes, their lives have been difficult, but after their mother died, their father, John Winchester, raised his sons to fight demons and other supernatural creatures,” Professor McGonagall explained.

“He raised them to fight, is he mad?” Ron exclaimed. The elder members of the Order shared glances briefly with each other at his statement. 

“How fortunate to be born in an era of peace…” Moody grumbled under his breath. “Never having to fight for everything you had.”

“Some may say that, but John Winchester raised his sons in that life to protect themselves,” Dumbledore said simply, fixing Moody with a cold stare before turning his attention to the deputy headmistress. “Were they difficult Minerva?”

Professor McGonagall smiled curtly, remembering the guns drawn on her at the motel. “They were as to be expected. As you said, they have been through a lot, and they acted as I anticipated.” 

“But Muggles at Hogwarts? The Daily Prophet will have a field day,” Bill muttered.

“I am not concerned about what the Daily Prophet has or will print. I think they may have printed a story already,” Dumbledore said. He turned to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

“I need you to support the Professors this year. There will be a lot going against them. Surely the students will have something to say about this, but John Winchester was the best hunter America has ever seen, and his sons have been trained to be the current best.” Dumbledore said. “I’m counting on the four of you to put your best foot forward.”

“We’ll do that sir,” Harry replied, and his friends nodded. Ron was anticipating the agony of learning yet another subject he was doomed to fail. Hermione was mulling over the challenge of learning another subject Ron was sure she’d ace. 

“Headmaster, if I may say a few words.” The one person who had not spoken took this opportunity to speak.

“Of course, Severus, this is an open discussion.” Dumbledore smiled warmly. “If you have something to add, please do.”

“I think it would be more beneficial to the students if we would hire someone who has more experience,” Snape said, using his most superior tone. “I mean if you can’t have this… John Winchester… that you wanted in the first place. Need we address the issue again that he couldn’t even save his wife- why would you choose his son’s that don’t have as much experience.”  

Harry’s nails were digging deep into the palm of his hands by the time his least favourite teacher finished speaking. He was going to say something, but Hermione put a firm hand on his shoulder, and he held his tongue. It was one thing for Snape to bully people while they were at school. But he didn’t even know these people and was already passing judgement on them.

“Severus, my old friend, I wouldn’t dream of offering this job to anyone else. Though they are a little rough around the edges, as I recall, there was another situation similar to this that turned out fine.” Dumbledore reminded him. No one wanted to look, but everyone knew he was talking about Professor Lupin’s short term that Snape had spoken out against. But against Snape’s wishes, Lupin was still hired and, in Harry’s opinion, taught more about Defence Against the Dark Arts than any of the other teachers combined. Snape glared at Lupin, who wisely kept his face expressionless. Tonks took his hand under the table and squeezed it lightly.

“Also, there was no way John could have saved his wife. From what I have discovered, Mary Winchester was murdered by a demon. John found her and began hunting the supernatural as the circumstances were strange. I have not found out why, unfortunately,” Dumbledore explained.

“Pathetic, couldn’t even protect his family. The lazy arrogant man couldn’t do his duty.” Snape sneered. Everyone glared at him. Harry remembered Snape’s words from the previous year. Lazy, arrogant, speaking of his father.

“And just because their father was ’lazy’ means that they are just as bad?” Harry challenged him. He couldn’t stand it any more, he pushed away from the table and started towards Snape. “You don’t even know them! Their mother was killed when they were children, regardless of whose fault it is you-”

“That is enough Harry.” Dumbledore put his hand up to stop any more protests from him. “There is only one person who is to blame for Mary Winchester’s death, and that is the only reason that the Winchester men became hunters. Which gives them the passion that they need to teach this course with fire.” Snape scowled, defeated. 

Harry sat back and frowned. How dare Snape make fun of someone for what a demon did to them? The family had their lives torn to shreds and his Potions Master was criticizing and insulting them for it? He knew all about what it was like, growing up without a parent. He grew up without both. They had grown up with one, but John could have died at any point in their lives that would have left them alone. He felt a rush of sympathy for the Muggle brothers who had been treated so wrongly by fate but shook off the sympathy. He knew that they would not want it. People didn’t need sympathy, well he didn’t anyway. He was sure that how these men grew up, they would not like it either.

“Those poor men,” Mrs Weasley fretted again. “They have lost so much.”

“Minerva, how are their preparations going?” Dumbledore turned to the Professor.

“I will be going to collect them within the next few days, and I will be taking them directly to Diagon Alley to get them prepared for the start of term.” She tried not to let Dumbledore see her rolling her eyes at the thought of taking the two of them through the streets of London.

“Excellent. Everything is proceeding according to plan.” Dumbledore smiled and pulled out a package of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and popped one in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Hum…. Vomit, I haven’t had one of those in a while…. Would anyone else like to try their luck?”

Everyone present tried not to vomit themselves. Mrs Weasley however recovered enough to speak.
“I wouldn’t spoil your dinner with all those sweets Professor Dumbledore!” She gave a short little awkward laugh. 

Everyone else joined in the laughter and concluded the meeting, shortly after they were filling into the kitchen to get something to eat. 

“You will have to excuse me,” Snape sighed in a bored tone. “I have a prior engagement that I have to be off too.” And with that, he was out the door in a flash.

“Good riddance….” George muttered.

“Me as well, Molly.” Kingsley truly looked sad to miss out on Molly’s cooking. “The Minister starts getting suspicious if I’m gone for too long.” 

“Of course, Kingsley!” Mrs Weasley pulled out her wand and waved it. “I fixed this especially for you!” She smiled as a covered dish wrapped in what looked like a picnic blanket flew through the air and landed in Kingsley’s waiting hands.
“Oh, Molly, you spoil me too much!” Kingsley laughed and went through the door with the biggest smile on his face. 

Everyone ate in silence, mulling over what had been said. After everyone finished and dinner was cleaned up, Molly put her hands on her hips.

“Right! Off to bed now! Harry, you’ll be sharing with Ron,” Mrs Weasley smiled.

“Night everyone,” the teens replied and went upstairs. Harry followed Ron to his room. He gestured for Hermione to follow
Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat down. Harry told them of Dumbledore’s plan to give him private lessons, and they were as bewildered as him. What could Dumbledore want to teach him? Hermione even looked jealous. They heard a sharp voice, interrupting Ron and Harry’s teasing. It was Mrs Weasley, telling them to go to bed. Hermione left, blushing.

“So, what do you think, Harry? Muggles at Hogwarts…” Ron trailed off in bewilderment.

“Never heard of such a thing.”

Harry thought it over for a minute, remembering his astonishment when Hagrid came to visit him on that rock in the middle of the ocean. He was sure the Winchester brothers had the same kind of reaction he did. “I think it’s a good idea. I mean the last person they would expect Dumbledore to hire would be two Muggle hunters.” He replied. He looked up at the ceiling and wondered how the lessons would go.

“Suppose,” Ron shrugged, settling down in his bed with a frown. “Wait till Seamus hears about it. He’ll go mental.”

“What do you think about it, Ron?” Harry asked after a few moments of silence.

“About the new class? I think Dumbledore has lost his bloody mind,” Ron replied. “But he’s done something like this before and everything has worked out okay, so I guess it will work out this time. Anything has to be better than that dolt Lockheart….” 

“Yea…” Harry snorted out a laugh and looked out the window. “I wonder what they are like.”

“Well, you are the Muggle expert,” Ron said then paused. “Don’t tell Hermione I said that. You know all about them since you’ve lived with them for so long.”

“Yea, but the United States of America is a different place than London.” Harry remembered the one time that the Dursleys ’rewarded’ him by letting him watch television with them, from the kitchen.
The news anchor was reporting about a story in the United States that had gotten national attention.

“… and sources say that the man is still at large, and the streets are no longer safe.” The news anchor spoke.

“That’s the problem with those Americans.” Vernon Dursley said the word ’Americans’ like it was a curse. “Fires, shootings, earthquakes, they should never have split from England in the first place.”

“Yes, I’m so glad that we live here!” Petunia sniffed. “I would shudder to think what would happen to my Dudders if we sent him there!” she tried to pinch her son’s cheeks.

“Shove off Mum!” Dudley slapped her hands away. 

“Harry, are you alright?” Ron pulled Harry from his memory.

“Sorry, mate. I was thinking about something,” Harry apologized. He would never forget the sadness he felt for the people he saw on the news, people who were dead from one thing or another. He wondered how many of those would have been related to demons or some sort. 

“Well, I think it’s a good thing to know more about demons. I mean with all the cruel things Voldemort has done, who knows what he could throw at us next?”

“Mate, don’t say the name!” Ron shook the floors with his shivering.

“Fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself,” Harry smirked as he quoted Hermione. 

“Shut up.” Ron rolled over and left Harry to his thoughts.

“You’re right though,” Ron said after a few seconds. “Dumbledore’s right. If You-Know-Who is rounding up demons and Merlin knows what else, it’d be best if we knew.”

“Yeah it might help slightly,” Harry smirked, with an air of sarcasm.

“Shut it!” Ron snapped.

“Hey,” Harry said. “I managed to grab the Daily Prophet.”

“So?” Ron rolled his eyes. “What would you want to read that for?”

“It has an article about the Winchesters. I don’t know how it got out,” Harry said as he turned the light on. They looked at the article. The headline read MUGGLES AT HOGWARTS?

“Sources from Hogwarts say that there will be a new mandatory subject being taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this Autumn” Harry read aloud. “’Has Dumbledore finally lost his mind?’ a concerned parent who wishes to remain anonymous was quoted.”

“Probably that git, Malfoy if I had to guess,” Ron commented.

“The class is not only teaching our children about demons but is taught by two Muggle ’hunters’. Dean Winchester along with his younger brother Samuel (pictured above) have a most outstanding record of avoiding the Muggle police forces and for the deaths of many at  their own hands. Should we be subjecting our children to this kind of teaching style?”

Harry showed Ron the photos that the newspaper used, conveniently enough it was a moving picture from one of the brother’s infamous mugshots.

“Nice, being taught by convicted felons,” Ron smirked. “Mum will love that.”

“That’s what we have to prevent from happening,” Harry remarked. “There’s more to the article.” He handed Ron the paper.

“Our reporters spoke with Tom, the keeper of the Leaky Cauldron in London, inquiring about the Winchester brother’s appearance at Diagon Alley. ’Yea, I saw ’em.’ Tom recalled. ’Big brawny brutes they were. Had Muggle weapons and was askin’ if they had the right place. Sketchy fellows if you ask me.’”

“Well, that’s a load of rubbish,” Harry commented. “This is fake. Professor McGonagall said that they haven’t been to Diagon Alley yet.”

“And besides, Old Tom is a few needles short of a haystack,” Ron agreed. He continued reading. 

“There are talks on how to remove these vicious killers and to keep our children safe.

Vicious killers, Harry thought. Thinking back, he thought of Professor Lupin, realizing how similar this situation was. The prejudice, rumours.  

 We asked Hogwarts headmaster Albus Dumbledore for a comment but didn’t hear back from him in time to add his thoughts in this article. Stay tuned for more information in the days and weeks to come.”

“What do you think about the article?” Harry asked.

“I’m with you mate. This is a bunch of rubbish. But there’s just enough junk in here to make even Mum and Dad wary of them.”

“I don’t think they’d believe it,” Harry disagreed. “Especially after hearing everything today. There must be a reason behind this. They’re hunters. Maybe the people who died were possessed by demons,” Harry suggested. “Plus, most people don’t bother with the Daily Prophet any more.”

“Yeah maybe,” Ron replied. “The Quibbler is getting more reliable at this stage. That’s saying something. Besides, they always lie about this kind of stuff. Could you imagine if they’d found out about Lupin?”

Harry nodded. Lupin decided to leave, luckily before word got out about his lycanthropy. 

Ron yawned. “Let’s get to sleep. I hear that the letters are due to arrive any day. They’re late this year.”

“They would probably have to be. We probably need things for that class. Night.”

But Ron was already snoring.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

The Leaky Cauldron, London, England, 22 ^nd August 2011

Dean’s first impression of Diagon Alley was it was like an acid trip and Halloween was 24/7 for these people. Sam’s first impression was wondering if they had enough time to scour the bookshops. Minerva noticed their looks.

“We will have plenty of time left to shop after you’ve collected your money.” 

“But we have money,” Sam told her.

“Currency exchange Sam?” Dean snorted. Poor Sammy, where did I go wrong?

“Your Muggle money is just worthless paper here in the wizarding world. As are those,” she informed them, looking at Dean as he tried to take a picture of one of the shops. “The barrier between your world and the magical one prevent the signal from getting through. I am working with the Ministry’s Muggle Artefacts Department to try to make them operable in our world, but for right now they’re just useless paperweights.” Sam frowned at the idea that his laptop wouldn’t work either, feeling incomplete without it. Dean rolled his eyes, Damn, that’s inconvenient… Minerva went on. “There has been a temporary vault set up in your name at Gringotts. We have to go to claim it before you can go shopping.” 

Dean looked at his brother. “Well, I guess I just wasted an hour gambling to get some extra cash…”

“Excuse me, Mr Winchester?” Minerva turned to look at him. 

“I didn’t say anything!” Dean exclaimed. Lady’s got ears like a bat…. Or a cat… he held back a snicker.

She rolled her eyes and told them to keep up.

“I swear man, it’s like she stares into your soul with those eyes,” Dean muttered to Sam. “Are you sure she’s not a demon?” 

Sam smirked and then looked forward again to find that Minerva was missing.
“Where’d she go?”
“I’m far from that Dean Winchester.” She suddenly Apparated directly behind them, they could feel the heat from her rising anger on their backs, reminded of past school teachers that would catch students loitering in the halls. “But I can turn into something far worse if you two don’t get a move on!”

“Yes Ma’am!” Both brothers said as they were rushed down the street. 

The Winchesters turned their heads in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium — Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown and Snowy.

Several boys of about eleven years of age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. 

“Look,” the brothers heard one of them say, ’the new Firebolt, the fastest ever -”

Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Broomsticks?” he mumbled. “I am so trying one of them!” Sam laughed. 

“Dude… they’re broomsticks. You hate flying,” Sam laughed. Dean’s ears turned pink. In all the weird shit that was happening and was possible in this world, he should have put the pieces together. 

“Never mind…” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Minerva smiled.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments the Winchester brothers had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon.

They had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops.
“This is Gringotts Wizarding Bank,” Minerva explained. Sam and Dean looked up.

“Cool,” Sam muttered.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and they were in a vast marble hall. 

“What are they?” Dean asked.

“They are goblins. They run the bank,” Minerva replied.

About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. Dean frowned, remembering the leprechaun case from back when Sam was still soulless. These things looked exactly like it. Though that would probably be an insult to them, he cursed himself silently for letting Sam convince him to leave his gun locked up in the room back at the Leaky Cauldron. 

“Good morning,” Minerva said to a free goblin. “We have come to take some money out of the Winchester’s Hogwarts safe.”

“You have their key, miss?”

“Yes,” Minerva replied, handing the goblin a small key.

“Very well,” he said, handing it back to Minerva, “I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Gornuk!”

Gornuk was yet another goblin. He led Sam, Dean, and Minerva down towards one of the doors leading off the hall. Gornuk held open the door for them. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were little railway tracks on the floor. A small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They climbed in.

“Cool,” Dean muttered with a grin. “It’s like a ride…”

They plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor. 

The cart stopped beside a small door in the passage wall. San tried not to laugh as Dean worked to unclench his white knuckles from the side of the railcar. Dean’s face was pale as he took a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves. 

Gornuk unlocked the door. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. Sam and Dean’s eyes widened.

“Woah,” Dean breathed, the terrifying thoughts of getting back up to the main level of the bank were forgotten as he took in the small fortune. “We’re in the money now Sammy!”

Sam’s eyes were still wide. He turned to Minerva. 

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. Minerva smiled in return.

“Our pleasure, help yourselves to what you will need for your term,” she said, and Sam and Dean began gathering coins and placing them in the small bags that Minerva had given them.

Around ten minutes later, Sam, Minerva, and Dean walked out of Gringotts and walked down the street. Dean kept patting his pants pockets with a grin, Sam laughed and shook his head.

“If you don’t mind Professor, could you please explain to us again about these coins?” Sam asked as they were walking back to the shops. Holding a piece of each coin in his hand, studying them carefully.

“The large gold pieces are called Galleon’s, the silver pieces are Sickles, and the small bronze pieces are Knuts,” She explained quickly.
“You sure have weird names for your money, sister.” Dean pulled out the three coins she described. 

She pressed on, deciding to ignore his comment. “Now they all have different values. There are 17 Sickles in a Galleon, and 29 Knuts in a Sickle.”

“So there are 493 Knuts to a galleon?” Sam guessed after a second. Dean started coughing and mentioned the word ’nerd’. 

“That’s correct Mr Winchester. And don’t get any ideas of trying to duplicate it.” She looked at Dean mostly. “Duplicates are worthless.” She walked into a shop expecting them to follow her. 

“Why did she look at me?” Dean asked. Sam didn’t say anything; he just looked at Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“What? I may be a thief and a gambler, but I have never been accused of counterfeiting! Have you no shame!” He stood up tall and strutted into a shop called Flourish and Blotts with Sam chuckling behind him.

“Sam, Dean, I must go and sort out some things at Hogwarts,” Minerva said. “I must give you these before I leave,” she handed over two rings. “These are two very powerful rings. They hold traces of magic that will allow you to use wands while in the Wizarding World. It siphons the magic in the air and brings it into your body, allowing you to use magic. It is not very strong magic, but it is the best we could do on such short notice.”

“Wow,” Dean said. “Didn’t think we were actually going to use magic. Good magic I mean. Cool.” They both took the rings and slipped them on their fingers. They both felt a small tingle as the metal met their skin.

“I shall see you soon,” Minerva continued. “There will be Aurors, which are Dark Wizards catchers, to accompany you to King’s Cross train station on September first. Please be responsible with the wands and those rings,” she warned. Dean nodded, feeling the Spider-Man moment coming on, with great power comes great responsibility. 

“Why do we need Aurors?” Sam asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“It is for your protection, as many people would not approve of Muggles teaching at Hogwarts,” Minerva replied.

“Great,” Sam muttered as Minerva disappeared. Now they were being brought around like children. 

Sam and Dean walked inside the shop called Flourish and Blotts and Sam’s eyes went wide while Dean groaned. Shelves upon shelves were piled together with books.  The shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. 

“Hey Sammy, look at this,” Dean said, picking up a large book that read Curses: Get Revenge on Enemies. “Think it would work on Crowley or Meg?” he grinned. Sam smirked and shrugged. Sam looked around and found the Defence section. 

“Dean, do you think that would be useful?” Sam said, holding a large leather book. It read Supernatural Beasts and Defence.

“Yeah, it would,” Dean replied. “We really should have called Bobby and asked for copies of his books. Guess we’ll have to wait until we get to the train station though…”

“We know it all anyway, but some backup books couldn’t hurt,” Sam replied.

“True,” Dean replied. “Okay, so this is gonna be the book the students are getting?” he asked. Sam nodded as he looked through it. 

“Yeah it has good explanations, the illustrations could be better though,” Sam said as he went up to the counter and paid the two Galleons for it. They walked outside

“What’s the next thing we have to do on the Wicked Witch’s list?” Dean asked.

“I would watch what you say about her,” Sam warned him. “Remember what she did to your whiskey bottle? Who knows what she could turn you into…”

“Whatever man, if she doesn’t like me, I don’t like her. That is the extent of our relationship.”
Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out the list that Minerva gave him. 

“The next thing is robe shopping at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions.”

“Robe shopping? Like bathrobes? What would we need those for?” Dean asked, then just as they turned the corner, they saw the shop in question, in the front window was a periwinkle blue set of robes. 

“Fuck no. No way am I wearing those! What’s wrong with how we dress?” He looked around to see several adults with their children dressed in similar clothes to them. Though there weren’t many who weren’t dressed in long robes and billowy capes.

“Come on Dean, we have to wear them, it’s school policy,” Sam grunted as he dragged Dean into the shop.

“Come on man!” Dean complained. “I’m too pretty to wear a dress!”

“Welcome to my shop, can I help you boys?” the short grey-haired witch addressed them brightly.

“Yes ma’am, we were sent here by Professor McGonagall to pick out some robes,” Sam smiled. Dean was trying to escape, but Sam grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and pulled him back to the counter.

Madam Malkin looked at the two of them trying not to look concerned about their mental state while trying to be professional. “Of course, you must be the new teachers at Hogwarts she told me about. You’ll need two sets of robes, one for everyday use and those worn for special occasions. Who wants to go first?” Her words were polite, but the boys spotted a flash of unease cross her face. Dangerous hunters must freak wizards out, Sam figured. He came out of his musing as his brother was about to speak. Sam cut in.

“Not it!” Sam and Dean said. But unfortunately, Sam was a little quicker.

“Da-” Dean almost cursed but then realized that Madam Malkin was studying him curiously.

“Alright, I’ll go first.” He looked at Sam. “But you owe me big time little brother.”

“Stop fidgeting Mr Winchester!” “This will only take a second!” Madam Malkin shouted every few minutes.

“I hate this dress man!” Dean complained. He walked out of the changing room and looked at his reflection. “Hey, I don’t look so bad in these.” He twirled around and admired himself in the mirror.

“Alright Mr Winchester, take those off, be careful of the pins.” Madam Malkin wiped the sweat off her brow. “I’ll have them hemmed and sent to the Leaky Cauldron, along with a few spare robes to use, if they get dirty. I’ll take you next Mr Winchester.” She pointed to Sam. He put his book back in his rucksack and followed Madam Malkin into the back room.
Sam came out a few minutes later in a robe identical to Dean’s. 

“What do you think Dean?”

“I think you look ridiculous.” Dean put down Supernatural Beasts and Defence and came over to the mirror. “I, on the other hand, looked smashing in mine!” Sam sighed at his brother’s antics as Dean pulled a hand through his hair. Sam noticed something funny about his brother’s arm. 

“Hey, what’s that?” He reached out to grab Dean’s arm.
“It’s nothing,” Dean muttered as he pulled down his robe sleeves.
Sam grabbed Dean’s arm again and pulled up the sleeve. There were long, faded pink slashes down Dean’s wrists. 

“Dude, this is not ’nothing’. What the hell is this?” Sam hissed quietly, out of Madam Malkin’s earshot.

“Can we talk about this later?” Dean growled. 

“Later? Or never?” Sam muttered darkly.

“I promise we can talk about it later,” Dean said and turned to Madam Malkin. “Thank you for the robes. They look great.”

“I’ll have yours sent to the Leaky Cauldron as well as Mr Winchester.” She tried to control the fear on her face, wondering what they were whispering about before she came up.

“Please, call me Sam.” He tried to salvage her opinion of them by trying to be cordial.

They exited the shop and Dean waited till the colour in Sam’s face returned to normal. 

“Well, I guess our reputation as being the first Muggle teachers at Hogwarts has been tarnished… She was terrified of us. Might be an advantage just in case we have to gank the joint.” 

Sam didn’t say anything or look at Dean. He looked at the list. Sam looked tense. 

“Come on man, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Dean sighed. “I have just been going through a lot lately. It helped me cope.”

“Cope with what Dean?” Sam stopped and looked at Dean with concern in his eyes. “What is so bad that you couldn’t just tell me about it?” 

“You going to hell,” Dean answered. Sam stopped in his tracks, looking at Dean with wide eyes.

“Look, I swear I only did it once. I was shaving, and I don’t know, impulse caught me or something,” Dean explained reluctantly. “Next thing I knew I was waking up with Lisa panicking beside me while pushing a towel to my wrist.”

“Dean, you should have freakin’ told me!” Sam snapped, causing several people to turn and look.

“Tell you what? That I couldn’t cope with you gone? You knew I can’t do that Sammy,” Dean admitted angrily. Sam’s eyes brimmed with tears. He accidentally brushed past someone, not bothering to look back. 

“Dean… I know you hate talking about this stuff, but you gotta talk sometime,” Sam pleaded quietly. The realization was still hitting him. His older brother had attempted suicide. It was one of the last things he expected from his brother. Dean was the strong one, always there for him. Sam was the tainted one. Dean hadn’t been destined to lead a demon army from six months old, hadn’t been the one who had powers, was doped up on demon blood half the time and became Lucifer’s vessel after freeing him from hell. 

If anyone deserved to die, he did. His brother deserved everything he wanted. He deserved to have the life with Lisa and Ben that he wanted, maybe have kids of his own with her. He knew better. Even though he understood John Winchester’s actions, he was still at fault for this. He had dragged himself along with the two brothers into a nomadic, bloody lifestyle. Now he was doing it from beyond the grave here in London. Still, the knowledge that even for a split second, that Dean had wanted to die, was terrifying.

Dean sighed. “We can talk about it later Sammy,” he said in a tired tone. Sam huffed in anger. He knew that his brother wouldn’t say any more, and if he tried to push Dean, he would most likely end up with a broken nose and that was the last thing they needed right now. 

The brothers edged their way down the street with bags towards the Leaky Cauldron, passing a group of what looked to be sixteen-year-olds. There was a boy with very shaggy jet-black hair, round black glasses and piercing green eyes standing beside a bushy brown-haired girl with brown eyes. The other two beside them were red-headed, the girl a little younger-looking, and the boy was tall and lanky. The two groups didn’t pay much attention to each other. The Winchester’s, thinking they were probably future student’s they would be teaching, and the kids were trying to decide if they should stop for a butterbeer before or after shopping. Dean and Sam walked inside and up to their room, and Sam kept casting worried glances at his brother, which he ignored.

I’m gonna do whatever it takes to help you, Dean, Sam thought with determination.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

The Leaky Cauldron, London, England, 23 ^rd August 2011

“This place is strange,” Dean mused. He looked at the four walls surrounding them. “Did you see that guy this morning? He just pointed his wand at his cup, and it started stirring itself.”

“Mhm,” Sam mumbled.

“Hey, geek boy, are you listening to me?” Dean complained. “Nerdy boy says what?”

“What?” Sam asked, coming out of his trance as he put down the book he was reading.

Dean grinned. I was just saying how weird this place is, while you were busy making out with your book.

Sam ignored the comment. He looked at his brother laying on the four-poster bed, arm over his face. He looked completely at ease. Sam grimaced. How can he be so calm after the bombshell he dropped yesterday? How come he never told me? Sam wondered to himself. We are brothers; we aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other. Right?

“We’ll talk about it later,” he had said. But would later ever come?

He tried to kill himself. Accidentally or not. 

“Dean, we have to address this…” Sam finally spoke. 

“Man, this again?” Dean sighed. He didn’t look annoyed, just resigned. He knew this was coming. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Dean wasn’t trying to minimize the seriousness of what he did, but he needed to get it through to Sam. It was a split-second decision. It was a regretful memory, a moment of weakness. 

“Yes, this again,” Sam frowned.

“Please Sammy, just listen. You know I go to pieces when you’re gone. You’ve been in my position before. After the deal. It was hard for me, but I did what you said. I found Lisa and Ben. I got a job and settled down. I didn’t mean what happened.”

“It doesn’t change the fact you didn’t fucking tell me,” Sam snarked back.

He kept secrets from Dean, all the time. Drinking demon blood and hiding it from his brother, hanging around with the demon that eventually betrayed them. He hadn’t taken his eyes off his older brother since yesterday, watching him like a hawk, much to Dean’s annoyance. Sam was so used to Dean just being… there. He lay awake the night before worrying about Dean, hearing the soft breaths from the other bed that calmed him a little.

“Don’t you think enough was going on?” Dean shot back, trying not to lose his patience.

“With Terminator you running around? I had to make sure you were alright first. I was going to tell you. I wanted to tell you, there wasn’t enough time. Trust me on this.”

Dean’s eyes held sincerity as Sam examined his older brother’s expression. Dean was telling the truth. Could Sam be angry at him? Sam had done so much worse stupid shit when emotional. A glimpse of wet gravel soaking through the knees of his jeans, and the sound of the crossroad demon screaming as he sliced off his finger flashed in his head. Attempting to trade Dean’s life for his when he was in the pit was an idiotic move. They’d both done amazingly stupid things when grieving. 

“I believe you,” Sam said finally, his shoulders relaxing as let go of the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I’m sorry. I understand. I… it was a shock finding out that way.

“I know,” Dean nodded. “It’s okay. I can’t blame you for freaking out. Now that we’re done with the chick flick moment, will you stop being a bitch?”

Sam had to laugh. He had to admit, he’d been in a foul mood since last night, mulling over his brother and wondering what else could have happened in the year he was gone. Dean smirked back at him, happy things were peaceful, at least for now anyway. 

“What are you reading anyway?  Dean asked.

“Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,” Sam answered. “There’s a section about Harry Potter and Voldemort.”

“There are books about this kid?” Dean asked, surprised. His eyebrows were raised.

“Why are you surprised? This kid took down a dark wizard at a year old. It’s no wonder he’s famous.”

“Good point,” Dean replied. “What does it say?”

“Not much. Harry is only 16 at this point but for a 16-year-old kid, he’s gone through a lot. He lost his parents as a baby and was brought to his non-magical aunt and uncle. At 11 years old he started at Hogwarts. In his first year alone he took down, get this, a troll and faced Voldemort who was possessing a Professor. He then defeated a giant snake in the bowels of the castle that Voldemort placed there 50 years before in his second year. There’s not much to say here about his 3rd year, but a murderer named Sirius Black broke out of prison to kill him and then went missing. They still can’t find him. In his 4th year, he got entered in some competition that ended up with a fellow student getting killed. Voldemort was raised again and dragged him to the wizarding government last year in his fifth year to try to kill him again.”

“Shit… this guy really wants this kid dead, “Dean said, surprised.

“I don’t get why? What would a dark wizard want with a baby?” Sam asked.

“What would a demon want with a baby?” Dean replied rhetorically. Sam frowned.

“Anyway,” Dean began. “We still have more to get on that list, right?”

“Just the wands.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Soon the boys walked out in the late August breeze. They decided to venture inside quite early the day before, both exhausted. Everything on the list hadn’t been accumulated yet, but with two weeks before the term started they had plenty of time.

Dean and Sam ventured outside Diagon Alley the previous evening to contact Bobby and reassure him everything was okay. (In reality, the main reason was to calm Dean’s nerves when he came to the shocking realization that his Baby was left alone outside a random motel in Idaho.) Bobby promised he would pick her up and bring her back to his place. Eventually, he managed to shout down the phone enough to calm Dean down. All the while Sam was questioning his older brother’s sanity. 

As they walked down the cobblestone streets, they took a closer look at the surrounding shops. Selling everything from books to potion ingredients. They found the small, old looking shop quickly. Soon they were back in their rooms again, books strewn around the room, and two boxes on the bed.

 “Guy was a little kooky…” Dean looked a little weirded out. “What kind of name is Ollivander anyway?” More to himself. “Lotta weird names around here…”

“Well with some names in these textbooks it seems kind of normal. Alright, here we go,” Sam began opening his box. “He said they were specially made for us.”

“Probably to work with the rings I guess,” Dean answered. “So, what do we need to do? Say some phrases in Latin and whip out our wands? This sounds gay… And inappropriate.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “There’s a specific way to wave your magic wand… and it’s not all just Latin. Here, I picked up a basic charm and spells book. Maybe we should practice a little?” He flipped through the book to find an easy spell to learn. “Here, a levitation spell. Should be simple enough.”

“How in the hell do you pronounce that?” Dean squints at the page.

Sam picked up his wand and cleared his throat, pointing at one of the books. “Wing-GAR-dee-um leh-vee-OH-sa.”

Nothing happened. 

“Ooh magic…” Dean clapped sarcastically. 

Sam, determined not to give up, went back to the book and read the rest of the page. “The Levitation Charm is one of the first spells learnt by any young witch or wizard. With the charm, a witch or wizard can make things fly with the flick of a wand. The charm is an excellent test of your magical skills, wand control and above all, patience.”

“Could you get any nerdier?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Patience is something you do not have…” Sam shot back.

 “Look, you said there was a wand-waving right?” He leaned over his brother’s shoulder and started reading. 

“Cast the charm with a swish and flick motion. So, it looks like making a ’u’ in mid-air.” Dean nodded, taking his wand out of the box, and pointing it at the book. This is either gonna be really cool, or really stupid…. 

“Wing-GAR-dee-um leh-vee-OH-sa. The book hovered over the table. “Woah… it worked….” He grinned, much to his brother’s astonishment. He waved his hands under the book, looking for strings. He could imagine McGonagall somewhere watching them on security cameras laughing her ass off. 

“Congratulations Dean, you’ve now done a spell that most 11-year-olds learn in their first few weeks at Hogwarts,” Sam smirked.
“Shut up…” Dean grumbled. “I can’t believe I got the hang of it, and you didn’t. You always wanted to be a wizard. Remember when you were thirteen?” Sam blushed, mumbling words of protest.

“You looked so cute in your little cape. You’re living the dream, Sammy.”

There was a sudden tapping on the window and turned to see a grey owl on the windowsill. Dean went over and opened the door. Letting the owl swoop in. It crashed into the pile of books on the table sending them toppling to the ground. 

“Fucking owls again, have these guys ever heard of USPS?  Now we’ve got kamikaze owls…” As he spoke, he untied the letter from the bushy owl’s leg. 

Dean peered over the books, checking on the owl. He picked it up gingerly and set it upright. “Alright there, little buddy?” The owl squawked out weakly before grabbing a sandwich and started to nibble on it.

Dean opened up the letter and started to read.

Dear Sam and Dean Winchester,

I’m writing this letter to request your attendance at a special meeting in your honour, in two days, the 25th. If you wish to attend I will send someone to collect you. Unfortunately, I have matters to attend to at the school, so I cannot come to get you. I will be late for the meeting as it is. This man is a former Professor at Hogwarts and is very trustworthy. I have given him instructions to meet you in the Leaky Cauldron promptly at 6 pm. Just ask for the man who walks at midnight.

Sincerely Minerva McGonagall

“What do you think?” Dean asked, looking up from the paper.

“It looks like Minerva’s handwriting. I don’t know. Could be a trap, could be just more witches and wizards.” Sam sighed. “She seems trustworthy. The worst thing she’s done has been to transfigure my laptop into a teapot.”

Dean smirked, “She also threatened to turn me into something unnatural.”

“Well yeah because you pissed her off. Can you blame her?”

“True,” Dean allowed.

“If Minerva trusts them, I think we should go with it,” Sam reasoned. 

“Always the peacemaker,” Dean said sarcastically. “Oh wait, no you weren’t.” A glare from Sam cut him off.

“I’m probably crazy for saying this, but you’re probably right.”

Sam scoffed, “Look at this whole situation Dean. We’re doing correspondence with owls… meeting some guy who walks at midnight… all of this sounds crazy.”

“So, do you not want to go? We can take these rings off right now and go grab this first plane back to the States.” Dean sighed, not happy about that mode of transportation, but it’s better than travelling by enchanted socks. “But if we leave now, could we live with the fact that McGonagall might get hurt, or worse killed, and there was something we could have done to prevent it? And there are the students to think of. If they’re telling the truth, hundreds of kids could be dead because of this wizard Hitler guy.”

“You’re right. So, we’re going?” Sam asked.
“What the hell, saving people, hunting things, right?” Dean shrugged. He grabbed a spare piece of notebook paper and wrote. Sam took it and saw the word ’Sure’ in his brother’s handwriting. No signature, nothing. He sighed. 

“Hey little buddy. Can you take this back to Minnie for me?” He tied the letter to the owl’s leg. “There’s a nice cracker in it for you.”

“Don’t bribe the bird,” Sam complained. “It’s not a parrot.”

“You’re meant to give them something. I saw a guy doing it downstairs last night.” He gave the owl a cracker, and it hooted happily before flying clumsily out the window. “See? I observe.” 

“Fine, so I wonder who Moony is.”

Dean flopped on the bed lazily. “No clue. I guess we’ll find out in two days.”

They both jumped when the levitating book slammed down on the table.

⸸

Two days passed, Sam studied over all the books they had bought, and Dean had been, well, Dean.

Sam woke up in the middle of the night to see Dean standing in the mirror with his wand in one hand and the Standard Book of Spells: Grade One in the other. He was mouthing words to himself and waving his wand in the air. One attempt sent red sparks dancing across the ceiling causing Dean to curse and put the book away for the night. 

The next morning two boxes arrived from Madam Malkin’s, Sam paid the delivery boy and brought the boxes inside. Dean came out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth. Sam rolled his eyes and set Dean’s box on his bed. They dressed in their everyday robes and decided to go take one more look around Diagon Alley. Not sure if they would ever make it back to this place.  

They spent most of the day wandering around the street, finding more shops. Sam walked into Eeylops Owl Emporium, looking at all the owls, some of them hooting happily, and others asleep with their heads under their wings. One, in particular, caught his eye, a beautiful barn owl that hooted at him when she looked at him. Sam wanted to get an owl. But they figured there was no point, as there was an owlery on the grounds. Sam left, giving the barn owl an affectionate head rub and a longing look.

They discovered Sugarplum’s Sweet Shop, which Dean enjoyed. He almost dropped the piece of liquorice wand he was eating when he stumbled upon a colourful building down an area of the Alley that they hadn’t been down before. Weasleys Wizard Wheezes was written in colourful letters.

“It’s a joke shop Sammy!” he enthused. “It’s practically begging us to come in!” He raced off down the street, his robes flapping wildly in the breeze. Sam rolled his eyes and followed him. He looked up at the sign where an animatronic man was taking off his top hat, revealing a small white rabbit on his head. Then he put his hat back on and the next time it took off his hat the rabbit was gone.

Sam marvelled again at the shopfront. Wondering if it was magical or mechanical. The joke shop was certainly more colourful than the rest of the shopfronts.

They went inside and spent the next while looking around. They found pranks, sweets that made you ill to get out of class, and even love potions. Sam commented that they would have to be on the lookout for students using these to get out of classes or assignments. Then Dean called him a wet blanket, before agreeing reluctantly that he was probably right.

Soon they were paying for their purchases, handing the money to the tall, freckled, red-haired boy, who served them enthusiastically. They walked out with a bag. And Sam gave a passing comment that the teen reminded him of Dean when he was younger.

Six pm soon rolled around, and the boys were standing in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron. 

“You realize we have no clue who this guy is, right?”

“No clue, but we just need to look for someone unfamiliar. Shouldn’t be too hard. Most of these people are regulars here.”

“Good point,” Sam replied. At that moment a man went to the bar closest to them and ordered what they heard was a ’Firewhiskey.’

“Whatever that is, I want it,” Dean muttered. “Besides, could be our man.”

He walked up to the man. His fair hair was unkempt, and his clothes were patchy and frayed. Besides that, he had a kind smile, but four thin, long scars raked across his face. “Are you the man that walks at midnight?” Dean asked, feeling like a jackass. 

“It depends on who is asking. Are you travellers searching for a tabby cat?”

“Yes, we are,” Sam replied. “She sent us.”

“We shouldn’t talk here,” The man answered. “Come with me.” The boys nodded and followed him outside, down a dimly lit alleyway. Dean gripped the knife he had stashed in his front pocket but waited to see where things would go. 

“I’m sorry for all the theatrics. I just didn’t want to arouse attention,” The man smiled. “My name is Remus Lupin. You must be Sam and Dean Winchester.” He shook their hands. “Nice to meet you both.”

Dean and Sam shared a look before Dean shook his hand. “Nice to meet you too.”

“We’d better get going. We have to meet the Order soon.”

“Order?” Dean asked.

“Of course, I’m sorry. We are having a meeting. Professor Dumbledore thought it was better for you to meet some of us before the term starts. The Order of the Phoenix is a society he created, and we work on bringing down You-Know-Who.”

“Oh right. So-” 

“I think you should save your questions for when we can talk in private.” Remus interrupted Sam, casting a suspicious glance over their surroundings. “You never know who could be watching…”
“Okay, so how are we getting where we’re going?” Dean asked.

“The Floo Network,” Remus explained. They walked through a narrow door in the alley, into the back room of a derelict store, toward an old dusty fireplace. Remus pointed his wand at the fireplace and green flames ignited. “This will bring us to where we need to go.”
Dean looked at it nervously and Remus smiled. “It won’t hurt. It just means the Network is active. Dumbledore pulled a few strings to get a fireplace near Headquarters reconnected temporarily. We can’t go directly. There’s protection on Headquarters. You have to take some Floo powder, step into the fireplace and say “Number 11, Crossley Street. It’s an abandoned house. We have to walk from there. It’s not far. You then throw the Floor powder into the flames.”

Sam looked warily at the green flames, a headache beginning to form in his temples.

“You’re sure this is the only way to go?” Dean looked to Remus cautiously, remembering Minerva’s way of travelling.

“It’s safe, don’t worry,” Remus assured. “Would you like me to show you? I’ll go to Crossley Street and come back, and then you can go. I’ll follow back along.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go,” Dean replied, a slight frown on his face. Not having the wizard think I’m a wimp.

Remus nodded, grabbing a pouch from inside his pocket. “Take a handful of this powder.” Dean took a handful and stepped into the fireplace. 

“Number 11, Crossley Street,” he said. I can’t believe I’m doing this, he thought. He threw the powder down and green flames obscured his vision. Suddenly he was in a fireplace in another room. He stepped out. 

“Woah,” he muttered. A moment or two passed before the green flames went high and Sam appeared.

“Hey,” Dean replied, relieved. “How’d it go?”

“Not fun,” Sam frowned. Dean could only guess… Hellfire was not a good thing to be reminded of. 

“You’re okay Sammy,” Dean replied, brushing the dirt off Sam’s jacket. “Was getting worried there. Thought Scarface kidnapped you” Sam rolled his eyes. Then Remus appeared in the flames. 

“Everything alright?” He smiled. The brothers nodded. 

They followed Remus out of the abandoned house, and down the next street, and stopped in front of a row of houses.
“Read this,” Remus instructed, handing Sam a slip of paper. Sam read the words and then handed them to Dean, who did the same. The note read “12 Grimmauld Place is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.”

Suddenly the houses in front of them began to move. Number 11 and 13 moved away from each other, the people inside seeming to take no notice. An identical house came into view, a golden number 12 on the door. Dean and Sam’s mouths were hanging open and Remus looked amused.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England, 25 ^th August 2011

 “Wow,” Sam and Dean said in unison. Remus smiled. 

“Do try to keep up,” Remus replied as he walked up the worn steps. “I’m just pulling your leg,” he added with a smile. “I understand it is a lot.” Dean and Sam followed him up the steps. Remus’ hand moved toward the snake-shaped door knob and stopped suddenly. He turned to face the brothers. 

“Just a warning, you would probably want to be quiet until we get into the dining room,” he warned, voice already dropping to a mutter. 

“Why?” Sam asked.

“The previous owner of the house grew up here. His mother has a portrait… Let’s just say she is very… vocal if she’s woken.” His expression went from sadness to annoyance as he spoke. 

Dean frowned. Woken?

“Some witches and wizards have a painter create a portrait which is hung after their death. The portraits have enchantments. The portrait will act like the deceased did in life. Walburga Black was not a pleasant woman,” explained Remus as he noticed both brothers bemused expressions. 

Dean whispered to Sam. “And I thought our lives were messed up.”

“I know it’s strange,” Remus allowed. “We would have taken it down, but we can’t.” He looked very annoyed by that statement. “It’s stuck with a charm. We’ve tried… Merlin knows we have.” His expression turned to a scowl. The efforts to clean and put some order back into the house the previous year were long and somewhat successful, but there were still some things that needed to be done. Remus opened the door to a long, dark hallway. Portraits lined the walls, and Sam noticed a particularly large, plum coloured curtain, hanging on the wall. 

“We have to keep her covered. It’s the only way we get some peace,” Remus whispered.

“She still believes it’s her house.”

They passed the long hallway quietly; Dean made an offhand comment about a haunted house from Scooby-Doo. The house looked very old, at least a hundred years old. Old ornate gas lamps hung on the walls and a large chandelier hung from the ceiling. The wallpaper was peeling slightly at the corners, worn and scratched. 

Well, if anywhere would be haunted, this place would be, Sam thought grimly. 

“Is that you Remus?” a soft voice sounded from the room at the end of the hall. A short, plump woman came into the hall. She had striking red hair and a kind demeanour. 

“Hey Molly,” Remus smiled. 

“Get washed up for supper. It’s almost ready.” She looked behind Remus and saw the brothers. 

“Hello dears, I’m Molly Weasely. You must be Sam and Dean?”

Sam smiled. “Hello, Mrs Weasley.” Dean gave a small smile.

“Come meet the others,” Molly smiled. She looked over her shoulder at Remus. “Where is Tonks dear?”

“She got called into the Ministry. Kingsley had to go too. They won’t make it tonight.”

“Typical, such an important meeting, and they get called in. Oh well, Alastor can fill them in.” She seemed to be talking to herself by the end.  

“What’s for dinner?” Dean smelled appreciative.

“Don’t listen to my brother. He eats like an elephant,” Sam excused, as Dean shot him a glare. Molly just smiled.

“I understand. I have six boys. They’re like wolves.” Two red-haired gangly boys appeared in the kitchen, howling like wolves, as if on cue.

“Fred, George! Behave!” she scolded, and they walked back in, snickering. “Just because you’re of age now doesn’t mean you have to whip your wands out for everything! Come on in Sam, Dean,”

Sam wondered, with a slight ache in his chest, if that would have been how his mother would have raised him and Dean. He looked over to his brother and saw that he had a similar look on his face. The two teens went back to the table with a smirk and sat down. All eyes turned to Sam and Dean as they entered.

“’I remember you.” One of the twins looked over to Dean.

“You’re the guy from the joke shop today,” Dean realized. “Weasley makes sense.” He couldn’t see them clearly in the hall, with the dimly lit gloominess.

“Just opened this year,” the two said simultaneously. 

“Awesome,” Dean answered.

“Boys,” Molly said patiently, looking at her sons. “We have to get to business. We can discuss everything later.”

They entered a long room with an obnoxiously long wooden table. Ten people were sitting in the old chairs. They were a variety of ages and sizes, but the most notable was an elderly man who got to his feet as the boys came in. He wore half-moon spectacles balancing on a crooked nose over a long grey beard. He was wearing long maroon coloured robes. 

“Sam and Dean Winchester, welcome,” he smiled. “Albus Dumbledore,” as he shook their hands. That’s when both Sam and Dean spotted the hand that was still by his side was blackened and shrivelled, almost as if it was rotting.

“You’re Headmaster of Hogwarts?” Dean recalled from the letter. Do we curtsy… bow…? He mused to himself as he smiled at Albus. Dude looks ancient…. 

“Hello, sir.” Sam nodded, unsure what to do as well.

“I am,” the man smiled warmly. “It’s lovely to meet you both. Thank you for coming to meet us and agreeing to help us. We are in a very dark time in our world.”

Dean grunted. “It’s dark in our world too.” Sam quickly dug his elbow into Dean’s ribs.

“I understand, which is why I am so grateful for your help. “Albus didn’t seem put out by Dean’s words. He isn’t reaching for his wand anyway, Dean thought in relief.

“Please feel free to speak your minds here,” Albus smiled.  “Let’s start with some introductions, shall we?” Albus finished cheerily. The boys then turned and looked at the other people. Most of them were red-haired, apparently Molly’s children, five boys and a girl. One’s missing, Sam noted.

“It’s nice to meet you all,” Sam replied, diplomatic as ever.

“This is my husband, Arthur, my boys Bill, Charlie, Fred and George, and Ron, and my daughter Ginny.” One by one, Molly pointed them out.

“Hey,” Dean smiled a little. 

“Alastor Moody,” a grizzled man spoke. When they looked at him, they were taken aback. One of his eyes was fake, larger than the other, a vivid blue, which was darting around independently of his other normal brown eye. His face was covered in scars, and a chunk of his nose was missing.

Sam nodded, quickly moving past the blue crazy eye.

“Nice to meet you,” said Dean in a polite voice. Alastor seemed like a Bobby type of guy. Nothing getting past him didn’t take a crap, the whole nine yards. 

There was a soft knock on the door. Remus got up and walked into the hallway, out of sight. A few moments later, Minerva entered. 

“Hello Sam, Dean. I’m glad you made it here alright. I hope the trip wasn’t too strenuous.”

“Hey Minerva,” Dean replied, not daring to use his ’Minnie’ nickname… yet. “We’re still getting used to the way you guys travel.” He shot a glance at Sam before turning back to Minerva.

“Good to see you, Professor,” Molly smiled. “Ron, would you please go and get Harry and Hermione?”

“They’re getting things ready in the kitchen.”

“Sure Mum,” Ron nodded and got up. He walked from the room and turned to go down the hall.

“Harry as in… Harry Potter?” Dean looked to Molly for confirmation.

“Yes, he’s just inside,” Molly answered. Sam looked up when Ron came back in a few seconds later, followed by a girl with bushy brown hair tied in a slow ponytail.

Harry looked sullen, depressed at being back in this house again, The house that Sirius spent the last year of his life trapped in, unable to leave under Dumbledore’s orders. When he came to get Harry at Privet Drive 5 days before, the discussion arose about the ownership of the building. After a quick test involving Kreacher the house-elf, the Order deemed it safe to return to using it as headquarters.

Hermione pulled the hair tie from her hair and wiped the sweat from her brow, blushing when she noticed the others had seen. The last to come in was Harry. He was skinny for his age, they noticed, with round, black-framed glasses in front of piercing green eyes. His hair was jet black and shaggy and Sam could just about see a tiny red line on his forehead under the unruly mess that was his hair. As far as famous people go, this kid seemed pretty ordinary to the hunters. It certainly didn’t match the vision Sam had in his head based on the descriptions he read about.

Hermione beamed as she noticed the new Professors in the doorway.

“Hello Professors,” she smiled, looking from her Headmaster to Head of House, to the newcomers.

“Just call us Sam and Dean for now,” said Dean, friendly. “We’re not your teachers yet.”

Harry looked over them, his emerald eyes scanning over each one before glancing over at the headmaster. Sam stepped forward and offered his hand to Harry. “You must be Harry. It’s nice to meet you.”

Harry shook it firmly and stepped back. The two men looked fairly ordinary, Harry thought. He remembered the photos in the Daily Prophet from a few days before. They were a little older now, by just a few years. They looked out of place in the new robes they were wearing. Not used to wizard clothes yet, Harry figured. 

“You’re shorter than I thought you would be,” Dean commented as he shook Harry’s hand. Dean and Sam took a seat. 

“To be honest, the two of you aren’t what we expected either,” Ron frowned. Then curiosity lit his features. “Did you kill a guy?!”

Before Sam and Dean could say anything Molly whacked Ron on his hand with a wooden spoon. Ron yelped in pain, earning reproachful looks from Harry and Hermione.

“What?” Sam asked. 

“There was an article in the newspaper about you a few days ago. I don’t know how it got out,” Hermione explained, glaring at her friend. She raised her wand. “Accio Daily Prophet.”

A blur of white whizzed through the air and Hermione caught it. She handed the newspaper to Sam, who took a closer look. They scanned through the article, which was below a large, moving picture of Dean and Sam’s mugshots.

“It’s about St. Louis?” Dean asked. Sam nodded.

“And the mugshots from Arkansas,” the younger Winchester frowned. They looked up to all eyes on them.

“We didn’t kill anyone,” Dean sighed, wanting to set the record straight even if it was annoying. “A few years ago, a shapeshifter took my form and killed someone. It was caught in the act. We had to go into hiding essentially… A few years ago, an army buddy of our Dad’s needed help. He was the warden in a prison with a ghost problem. 

“We got caught on purpose and sent to his prison to help deal with it. Hence, the pictures,” Sam finished. 

Harry Hermione and Ron all shared shocked looks.

“Look, hunting requires us to do some things that are not exactly... legal, but it saves lives, so we do it,” Dean frowned. “It may not be the wizard way, but it’s the Winchester way.”

“I understand,” Hermione nodded. “The Daily Prophet is utter rubbish anyway. I wouldn’t let it worry you.” She then muttered under her breath. “I’d rather read the Quibbler at this point…”

“Okay dears, I think that’s enough for now. Dinner is ready.” Molly interrupted Dean before he could ask about the Quibbler. Dean and Sam watched from their chairs as platters began to float in from the kitchen.

“Cool,” Dean said, impressed. His stomach rumbled. “It reminds me of that scene from that one Disney film,” he said as he started to fill his plate. 

“Disney film?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Shut up…” Dean replied. 

The two brothers eat mostly in silence, watching the interactions between the other people at the table. Ron was wolfing down his food, talking to Harry. Hermione was chatting with Ginny. The youngest Weasley kept glancing at them periodically but never spoke to them. Her father was doing much the same but instead of fear, his eyes were filled with wonder at the sight of two muggles, wondering which question he should ask first. Sam was keeping to himself.

“Dragons?” Dean asked, looking at the redhead. “You raise dragons?”

“Yeah, in Romania. I came home to help with the war effort,” Charlie explained. His hair was long, a little longer than Sam’s.

Sam rolled his eyes. “No Dean.”

“You didn’t know what I was going to ask!”

“We all knew, “Sam shot back. He looked back to his food, catching sight of Arthur, who looked like he was going to explode from excitement. Sam cleared his throat. “So Mr. Weasley. What do you do at the Ministry?”

“I am the Head of the Office for the Detection and Confiscation of Counterfeit Defensive Spells and Protective Objects. It’s a new division. I confiscate fake protective spells and charmed objects. With You-Know-Who returned, the public is desperate to protect themselves. Some people will take advantage of that.”

“Are bogus charms that bad?” Dean asked between mouthfuls.

“They can be,” Arthur sighed. “Of course, it depends what spell is put on them, but essentially, they can be deadly.”

“Bloody idiots, messing around with things they shouldn’t.  They should just learn some protective charms. These gimmicks won’t help when Death Eaters come knocking,” Alastor grumbled. “The Auror office is filled to the brim with complaints.”

“Auror?” Dean asked.

“Dark wizard catcher,” Arthur explained.

“Also, what is a Death Eater?” Dean asked again.

“It’s a name given to You-Know-Who’s followers,” Remus said. The boys nodded and Sam turned to Arthur.

“You said your department was new,” Sam looked back at him. “Are you new to the Ministry?”

“No, I used to be head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. Sometimes Muggle objects would be tampered with by charms or curses. I would deal with it,” His eyes lit up.

“And used to take them home to tinker with…” Molly frowned. “Honestly, you could arrest yourself with the amount of junk you’ve been ’tinkering’ with.” She muttered under her breath about a car. The tips of Arthur’s ears went pink. Albus was chuckling quietly.

Dean grinned, “And what exactly, were you tinkering with?”

The table erupted in a groan and Dean looked at them curiously before one of the Weasley twins nudged him. “Tried to warn you, mate.”

“It’s fascinating! It’s called a walkperson! It runs on elektricity, and you can play music with it! I think I broke some red things inside, so it doesn’t work any more,” Arthur gushed

“Do you mean a Walkman?” Sam asked.

“Arthur has a fondness for Muggle objects,” Molly explained. “He likes to see how these things work.

“I can see why…” Dean nodded as a plate of chicken whizzed through the air past him. “Your world is a bit mind-boggling too.”

“Yeah. Minerva was explaining a bunch of things to us back in Diagon Alley,” Sam replied, looking down the table to see Minerva talking quietly with Albus.

“Actually,” Dean began. I don’t know if there’s a way to do this, but is there a way to get our phones to work?”

“Remember what I was talking to you about back in July, Arthur,” Minerva spoke up when Arthur looked confused. 

“Ah right, yes. Your communication devices. May I see them for a moment?”

“Sure,” Sam replied. Dean gave his phone to him and Sam passed them to Arthur. He beamed as he looked over the devices. “They really are quite fascinating, aren’t they? And so compact...”

“Focus Arthur.” Molly reminded him with a smile “I’ll take a look at them for you. I’m not sure yet, but I can give it a try.”

“Awesome, thanks.” Dean nodded.

“Professors… I mean Sam and Dean,” Hermione spoke up. “What’s it like living in America?”

Dean shrugged before answering. “I guess the same as it is over here. Though the magic in our world is slightly more threatening. There’s more bad magic out there than good. And it always seems to come with a price. I guess you guys are all over the world, but the witches we meet are mostly evil.”

Minerva spoke up then, “I have been doing some research in that area, Mr Winchester. It seems that the witches and warlocks you have encountered may have inert magical qualities like we possess. I believe you would call them Wiccans. However, some of them had their abilities bestowed upon them by a demon in exchange for their souls.”

“Yeah, that’s usually how it goes,” Dean nodded. “The witches we meet probably are more similar to Wiccans. They practice with hexes a lot… cat skulls, hex bags, that sort of stuff. It’s disgusting.” 

Hermione nodded, reminding Dean of how Sam acted when they were interrogating witnesses. She must be a booky type, Dean figured. 

“Ew,” Ron frowned. 

“Where do you live?”  Harry asked, having been very quiet up until this point.

“Not anywhere. We just move around. Motels mostly,” Sam replied.

“Sleeping in cars is also fun…” Dean added sarcastically. He shrugged. “We’re used to it

Molly patted her chest lightly, “Oh you poor boys. Living homeless…”

Sam and Dean looked a little uncomfortable at her pity but shrugged it off. They understood her point of view, but in reality, the Impala was the best home they’d ever known.

“Do you have a place to stay during winter break?” Arthur asked quickly, an idea already forming in his head.

“Just stay at the school I guess,” Dean replied.

“Oh, the school can be so drafty…” Molly sent another plate whizzing by. 

Ron cut in. “Most of the kids stay behind mom. It’s not that bad.”

“Besides, those jumpers you knit keep little Ronniekins warm and toasty.” One of the twins sniggered.

“Shut up!” Ron glared at the offending twin. Fred or George, Dean wasn’t sure. 
“Thanks for the offer, But I’m not sure what we’ll be doing. We might go back to America for the holidays,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, we might check on our friend Bobby,” Dean said.  “Make sure he hasn’t eaten a damn bullet.” The last part was under his breath to Sam, who nodded.
“So, what exactly will we be learning about in your classes?” Harry spoke after adjusting his glasses. The other children, as well as the adults, turned to look at the Winchester’s apart from Albus who became very interested in his teacup.

“We’re still working that out,” Sam told him. “We’re trying to figure out the best way to structure the lessons. You’ll be learning about the things we hunt.”

“It’s not just demons.” Dean continued.  There are wendigos, vengeful spirits, even some deities. You’ll learn all about those later.”

“You don’t want to be too far ahead of your classmates,” Sam grinned.

Harry nodded in understanding.

Remus sat up and eyed the three kids before addressing Sam and Dean. “I enjoyed my time teaching at Hogwarts. I’m sure you will too.”

“I taught Defence Against the Dark Arts for a year,” Remus told them. “Unfortunately, I had to leave for family reasons after that.”

“He was the best teacher we’ve ever had. No offence Professor.” Ron grinned sheepishly at Minerva. Molly began to gather the plates.

“Let me help Mrs Weasley,” Sam offered.

“Sit down Sam, it’s alright” Molly smiled and flicked her wand. The plates rose and stacked themselves, floating toward the kitchen.

Albus stood, causing the rest of the table to quieten down. “I suppose we should get the meeting started. There was a sudden tenseness in the air.

“Of course Albus. You four, up to bed” Molly immediately rounded on Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Ginny. 

“Mum!” Ron protested.

“You know the Order meetings are only for those of age,” Molly cut him off sternly before he could say any more. 

“Molly, we need to let them stay, “said Albus calmly. “I know you are worried. “But think of everything they’ve done in the past year. They are capable of this. Dumbledore’s Army was very successful.” He threw a wink to Harry, a twinkle in his blue eyes. Harry smiled at his praise. 

“They are still children, my children!” Molly hissed as she fussed over the dishes while trying to get the chairs moved back into the meeting room. Molly lost her concentration on the spell as she worried over what the children could hear. A loud crash drew everyone’s attention to the mess of glass on the floor. 

“Oh no…” She looked up in horror and before Sam could go help her clean up the broken pieces, an ear-splitting scream pierced the air. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

“MUDBLOODS! FILTH! STAINS OF DISHONOUR! TAINT OF SHAME ON THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS!  The ear-piercing scream rang it through the air.

“Oh, Merlin, here we go,” said Remus, getting to his feet at once. He left with Arthur and Molly to quieten down Sirius’s mother. Sam looked to Dean, not sure if they should \go to help. Dean slipped his gun from his pocket at once.

“It’s alright,” Albus assured, still calm. “Did Remus inform you of the portrait?”

Dean looked to the older wizard, his alarm quickly turning to shock as he remembered Remus telling them about the portrait of the old lady when they came in. “That’s the old lady’s portrait?”

“That’s her,” Ron scowled. 

“Wow…”

Minerva stiffened as she saw the gleaming silver object in Dean’s hand. 

“Sorry,” Dean muttered as he shoved his gun back into his pocket. “Instinct.”

Remus reappeared, the scowl deepening on his face as he straightened his tie and smoothed back his hair, muttering a quick apology before sitting back down. 

“It was my fault, Remus,” Molly reminded him while cleaning up the soup stain on the floor.

“Tergeo,  she muttered, pointing her wand at it, and the stain was instantly sucked from the floor and disappeared. Sam walked over to Molly kneeling to touch his hand on her shoulder.

“Are you alright Mrs Weasley? You didn’t get cut or anything did you?”

“I’m perfectly fine Sam,” Molly told him. “Thank you.” She got to her feet. “Albus, they almost got themselves killed last June.”

Harry stood up. “We want to fight. We want to be ready. It was my fault Mrs Weasley, What happened in June.”

“Harry-” Molly began before Albus held up his good hand.

“Please,” He said. “Everyone, be calm. Molly, I know this is difficult, but Voldemort has started to use Harry’s friends and family against him. They need to know. You can’t protect them from this war.”

Molly sighed heavily before nodding, she went to sit beside Arthur and kept her eyes on the table. Sam worried about the woman, knowing how she felt, but also remembering how being unprepared can be more of a vulnerability than the alternative.

“He’s right,” Dean confirmed. “I don’t know much about this Voldemort guy.” A shudder went around the table, apart from Harry and Albus, who stayed still. “But I do know that he’s probably not stupid. He knows to use his enemy’s weakness. Demons do the same thing. Most monsters in fact.”

“And if the two groups team up…” Sam left his statement hanging.

“All the more reason to be prepared.” They turned to see Ginny turning a bright shade of red. This being the first time she had spoken since the boys arrived.

“I know,” Molly admitted. 

“So, shall we go into the drawing-room?” Albus suggested with a wave of his hand. Everyone got to their feet and moved down the hall, almost creeping in front of the large purple curtain.

“Don’t wake the wicked witch…” Dean muttered. “What was she screaming about anyway?”

“The Black family were very proud of their heritage. They were Purebloods. Which means the family is all magical. A person who had one magical and one Muggle parent would be considered half-blood. A witch or wizard who had both Muggle parents is a Muggleborn,” Remus explained. 

“I am a Muggleborn, and Harry is Half-Blood. Ron’s Pureblood for example,” Hermione added. 

“So that’s how you know so much about ’Muggle’ things right?” Sam ended up by her side. 

“Yes,” Hermione nodded. “My parents are just ordinary people, they were surprised when I got my letter.”

“I can imagine,” Dean smiled a little. “Are there a lot of Muggleborns in Hogwarts?”

“More of those than Purebloods,” Ron commented. “There wouldn’t be many Muggleborns, but there would be a lot of Half-Bloods.”

“Not that it matters,” Alastor growled. “Pureblood supremacy is all it is. They believe magic should be kept within all magic families and anything less deserves death.”

“See Sammy? Wizard Hitler.” Dean whispered to his brother. Sam frowned.

They all found places to sit on comfy armchairs and Albus called the meeting to order.

“Again, thank you all for coming. We welcome our newcomers from the United States.” 

“No problem,” Dean shrugged. Albus nodded before turning to the Auror that had been surprisingly quiet throughout dinner. Dean felt creeped out by the spinning glass eye, feeling like he could see through him like an x-ray machine. “I believe you have some news to share with us, Alastor.”

“I received a report. Charity Burbage has not been home in over almost 2 weeks. No one has seen her. Her neighbour reported her missing after she didn’t show up for their monthly chess game.”

“Professor Burbage?” Hermione gasped, eyes wide. Harry and Ron both had a look of dread on their faces.

Minerva looked down, remembering how the Muggle Studies Professor helped her move Sybil back into her quarters at Hogwarts after Umbridge tried to evict her. Charity was kind to everyone she met in the halls.

“Does she have a family?” Dean asked.

“No,” Minerva replied, wiping a handkerchief under her glasses. “Her mother died during childbirth and her father passed away ten years ago.”

“Okay,” Dean nodded. “We’ll find her. She ain’t dead yet.”

“No need. We’ve already got people on the trail.” Alastor fixed Dean with a stare.

“Alastor is correct, we need you to train our students on how to survive a supernatural attack.” 

Sam and Dean both nodded. They didn’t like the sound of this. Sure, they were used to people going missing. It was how they got a lot of their cases. This person meant a lot to the people in the room. But they obviously couldn’t do anything now without gathering information first. They need to know thy enemy.

“You’re right,” Sam confirmed.

“Okay, so what, apart from Harry, does Voldemort want?” Dean asked.

“He wants control of the wizarding world, “Albus said, his face grave. “Under his rule, anyone less than Pureblood will be exterminated. He believes in Pureblood dominance.”

“Voldemort is a powerful, intelligent wizard. Last year, he formed a plan to get to Harry, and I am foolish to say that he almost succeeded, even as I at every turn, I tried to stop him. I anticipated wrongly, as I told Harry last June. He is now aware of the connection between himself and Harry, and I am still afraid that he will try that again. I’m sure we are all aware,” he said looking at everyone but the boys. “Of the atrocities in the Muggle world over the past week.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, his eyebrows raised.

“Brockdale bridge collapsed, causing a dozen deaths. Two murders, Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance, and a sudden hurricane In the West County.”

“I saw something about that on the internet,” Sam spoke up. All eyes looking at him, waiting for an explanation of the word ’internet’. “It’s all over the news.” 

“Trust me, it’ll take too long to explain,” Harry informed them. 

Dean nodded. “Anyway, so he’s declaring war on anyone born to Muggle families or magical people marrying normal people?”

“Yes,” Minerva nodded. “Also, anyone who even sympathizes with the Muggle population.”

“Like our family. They call us Blood traitors….” Charlie growled. 

“I see why you called in the experts then.” Dean’s eyes widened as they explained the hierarchy of the wizard community.

“I’m still trying to figure out Harry’s part in all this. Why does he want him dead?” Sam asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, no offence kid, but you wouldn’t have been much of a threat as a baby,” Dean pointed out. 

“16 years ago, a prophecy was made that, in summary, detailed the eventual defeat of Voldemort by a boy born at the end of July that year,” Albus explained. “This information applied to two boys, one of whom was Harry. The information was leaked to Voldemort, and he planned to kill the child. It’s unknown why he chose to target Harry’s family, but he did. The Order put Harry’s family under strong protection. But a supposed friend betrayed them. Voldemort went to Harry’s home on Halloween night and murdered both James and Lily Potter. He tried to kill Harry, but the curse rebounded on him. Lily sacrificed herself for her son, and that protection deflected the curse.”

“Sound familiar Sammy?” Dean muttered bitterly.

Sam glared at Dean before continuing. “So that’s how it all began, and Voldemort has made several attempts since then to finish the job. Is that what happened last June? I didn’t read anything about that in my research.” Sam looked at Harry.

“Yes,” began Harry, looking uncomfortable. “I started having this connection with Voldemort. He started to get into my head. He put a fake vision in my mind. He had Sirius…” He stopped and took a deep breath, the anger still present in his gut. “I didn’t know what to do….”

“I checked to see if Sirius was home before I left but… I was lied to. They said Sirius was at the Ministry. I went to the Ministry with my friends. We tried to rescue Sirius, but he wasn’t there. Voldemort tricked me, so we went. We were ambushed by Death Eaters. The Order arrived and Sirius…”

Dean and Sam nodded, understanding that he didn’t want to finish.

“We get it, kid. We’ve all done some stupid things for our family,” Dean told him. Sam had to fight the urge to throw Dean a glare because yes, Dean especially had done some stupid things.

“Voldemort turned up and fought with Professor Dumbledore,” Harry spoke again, sounding hesitant. “Voldemort left just as the Minister for Magic, he’s head of government, came in with other Ministry officials. They saw him and got their proof that he was back.” Harry’s words turned bitter at the end.

Alastor grumbled and straightened up in his chair. “A fat lot of good it did for Fudge… He lost his job because of it. Huge scandal that he kept something like that quiet. Rufus Scrimgeour is Minister now.”

“And worse for Sirius...” Remus sighed sadly, looking at Harry. “He died for it.”

“Did you say, Sirius? As in Sirius Black?” Sam asked, looking around at the others. “I read he escaped from prison.” He chose his words carefully, knowing there was most likely more to the story.

“Sirius didn’t do those things. He didn’t kill anyone. It was Peter Pettigrew. He was on Voldemort’s side the whole time. He was the one to give my parents’ location to Voldemort, and he framed Sirius for the murders.”  

“So he was wrongfully accused?” Dean asked, wanting to get his information straight.

“Yes,” Alastor confirmed. “They cleared his name a few weeks after the whole Department of Mysteries debacle… a fat lot of good it did.”

Minerva glared at Alastor. “That’s enough.” She was worried that they were going to upset Harry further.

“It’s alright Professor,” Harry told Minerva. “What’s done is done.”

 “And Sirius was important to you,” Sam stated, feeling like there was more to the story.

“He was my godfather,” Harry explained, determined not to let his emotions get the better of him. Lupin glanced at him, a sympathetic look in his eyes. “He was one of my father’s closest friends. He along with my father, and Professor Lupin, and Peter called themselves the Marauders. They had nicknames for each other and everything. 

“That’s another thing I don’t get. The nicknames and code words and how you can’t just be magically poofed in here.” Dean spoke up. “What’s with the secrecy?”

“This house is under what’s known as the Fidelius Charm. It involves the concealment of a secret inside a soul. That person is known as the Secret Keeper. I am the Secret Keeper of this house, to protect the location of the Headquarters. The only way for it to be broken is for the Secret Keeper to divulge the information,” Albus explained. 

“Is that what happened to Harry’s mom and dad?” Dean asked, realizing. “That’s how this Peter guy betrayed them?”

“Unfortunately yes,” Albus told them. “They put their faith in the wrong person.”

“Wait,” Sam stopped him. “How did we find out about this house then?”

“The note,” Remus told them. “It’s in Albus’s handwriting.”

“Ah, I see, so as long as the secret is kept then the house doesn’t need any more security than a simple lock.” Sam rationalized.

“Not to mention the old lady’s portrait scaring the hell out of anyone who gets in,” Dean added. 

Ron and Ginny laughed. 

“I would assume the security in Hogwarts is a little different considering the number of students and staff that know about it.” Sam continued his thought without acknowledging his brother’s interruption. 

“The protection of the castle is very strong. We take our students’ safety very seriously,” Minerva told them.

“Which brings us to the curriculum that we would like you to teach.” Albus sat up, ready to get to the heart of the meeting. 

“Right, so what kind of supernatural creatures have you seen?” Sam asked, wishing he had brought a notebook to take notes.  “We need a good base to teach from, we’ve seen a lot of monsters while we’ve been hunting, so we should get specific to the needs of your students.”

“Not many, some supernatural creatures feel threatened by our magic and keep a wide berth,” Arthur told them. 

“That would make sense, species often feel threatened by others when confronted in large numbers.” The others looked back and forth between each speaker trying to keep up with the track of the conversation.

“So basically everything,” Dean nodded. 

“A basic understanding of the creatures and how to prevent an attack.” Albus redefined. “Help the student’s not to feel threatened by those that would wish them harm. Unfortunately we teachers cannot shield them from everything. 

“That’s true,” Dean nodded. He looked at his brother. “So we just avoid some of what dad did,” he laughed. “Scaring the crap out of us I mean.” Not that John was a bad father, it was the way he was taught. So he didn’t know there was another way to instruct rather than through fear.

“I’m just kidding,” Dean added, his hands raised in surrender, as Sam looked at him.

“I was reading about the history of Hogwarts and noticed there are quite a few Ghosts that stick around the building. Are they mostly friendly?” Sam addressed the group.

“If you don’t count the bloody Baron and Peeves….” Ron rolled his eyes. “Peeves is a poltergeist and the Baron is the patron Ghost for Slytherin, aka the Pureblood House.” 

“Good Ghosts? That’s new…”  Although, he added in his head. After everything we’ve seen in the past week or so, a good Ghost might be the most normal of it all. “If Peeves is a problem we could probably take him out if you want.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Albus assured. “Peeves is not harmful. He can be annoying at times, but it is mainly pranks. Nothing to worry about. The Ghosts of Hogwarts are of no harm. Professor Binns, our History of Magic teacher is a Ghost.”

“Wow,” Sam muttered. Dean looked just as surprised. Albus went on to explain the backstory of Professor Binns briefly, explaining how he’d simply fallen asleep at his desk one day and died, and continued to teach in the afterlife.

After a moment, Dean nodded, “Anyway, so basically a crash course through some of our greatest hits?”

“Essentially yes, you have the creative freedom of your curriculum, as do most of our staff,” Albus replied with a smile, which Sam thought implied something deeper.

Dean and Sam both nodded, keeping his words in mind. It was one thing teaching on the job but in the classroom? 

“We need you all to understand that some things we’ve seen and faced are not for the faint of heart. We aren’t going to sugarcoat it because of their kids. Misinformation tends to get pretty sticky when you’re facing down some of these creatures.” Dean looked to Molly and Arthur, being the only parents in the room. “I would want these kids to be prepared as I was when Dad taught me about these things.” He looked at Charlie. “I’m sure working with Dragons wasn’t as cool as you thought it was when you were signing up for it after school right?”

“Not quite as cool,” Charlie agreed. “Thinking about a cool job while in school is different from actually doing it. It can be tough. Not that I don’t enjoy it. I love it.”

“But would you still have chosen it, knowing the risks beforehand?” Sam asked. 

Charlie thought for a moment before answering. “I know it’s dangerous,” he looked at his parents. “I know it drives you up a wall Mum, but it needs to be done. So yeah, I guess I would do the same regardless.” 

“Same as me,” Dean agreed. “We’re a little different. Everyone we know are hunters, and sometimes you don’t have a choice. Most of the hunters we know got sucked in because a family member got killed. Hell, it happened to us. You guys are choosing to let these students know what’s going on. I just wanted you to be prepared for when they start writing home about all this.”

Ron snorted and muttered, “Malfoy no doubt.”

“I will take care of any grievances against you. Not to worry.” Albus waved away Dean’s concerns as if it had happened before. Dean turned to look at Remus briefly, wondering why he retired from teaching but didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask. 

“We’re able for it Professor,” Hermione spoke for the first time in a while. “Last year, we created a… an organization called Dumbledore’s Army.” Dean raised an eyebrow at the name and Hermione’s cheeks went pink. “You-Know-Who fears Professor Dumbledore, you see… so we thought it was an apt name. Our Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was useless.” Harry and Ron held back a laugh. It was unheard of for Hermione to disrespect authority.

“She was sent from the Ministry by the previous Minister to spy on Hogwarts,” Ginny explained. “Toad face wouldn’t teach us how to protect ourselves.”

Molly frowned at her daughter but didn’t comment. From what she’d heard, Dolores Umbridge was a despicable witch. She seemed to think it appropriate, even though she couldn’t encourage that kind of behaviour from any of her children.

“I will have order!” Fred and George chimed in a high voice, simultaneously. “Hem, hem!”

“We decided to teach ourselves. Harry taught us several defensive spells that helped us. Especially those of us that went to the Ministry to try to find Sirius,” Hermione continued on a more serious note. “Without his help, I fear that a few of us, myself most certainly, would not be here.” She thought of the curse Antonin Dolohov hit her with. According to Madam Pomfrey, had the spell been spoken aloud, and not cast non-verbally, she probably would have been dead. 

Sam nodded, “We would teach in a similar style I guess. Making sure we gave you every advantage. But I’m not sure if there would be anything we could grade the student’s on.” Sam mused. 

“We’d have to rely on the books a little more, like that Professor you mentioned. We don’t have the know-how of your spells to use them reliably,” Dean said, raising the wand he was given and putting it back in the robes. 

“That side will be taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts,” Albus told them. “It is similar to the task we have assigned to you, but your class could be more hands-on.”

“We’ll work out something,” Dean told him.

“Should we give you a written curriculum of some sort to approve?” Sam directed his question to Albus and Minerva.

“College boy,” Dean ’coughed’. Sam punched him in the arm.

“No need, I trust you both to take the appropriate measures within your class. Now if that’s everything I think we should break with all this serious business and get to dessert. Molly, surely you have something wonderful planned after that delicious stew?” Albus smiled at Mrs Weasley.

“Of course,” Molly brightened up at the change of subject. She and Arthur had been very quiet, just observing, mostly. After her outburst, she came to the reluctant realization that her children were no longer safe in this world. No one was, and if the gruff American hunters could prepare them (more importantly, to protect themselves) then she could accept their teaching style. Albeit a little strange. 

Remus got out of his seat and followed her into the kitchen to help her. Arthur saw this as an opportunity to ambush the brother’s to ask them more questions.

“So, how are you boys enjoying your trip abroad?”

“It’s good so far. All this wizard stuff is new, but we’ve seen worse,” Dean told him.

“I see, yes, it can be very jarring for Muggles to get a glimpse behind the curtain’ as it were,” Arthur commented with a thoughtful nod. “Like when I worked with the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts office. We had to perform memory charms on a few Muggles here and there. But things always seemed to turn out okay for them in the end.”

Dean and Sam nodded. 

“So you had to tamper with people’s memories?” Sam asked. 

“It’s never something we want to do, but yes. It’s necessary to protect the Statue of Secrecy,” Albus explained as the deserts began to float in and land in front of everyone. “This looks delicious Molly.” he smiled before continuing. “It is our law to help keep our world secret from the Muggle’s world.”

“Yeah, it’s exactly why we don’t go around announcing we’re hunters. If people knew what’s out there, it’d cause panic,” Dean said, taking a bite.

“I can imagine.” Arthur nodded, looking thoughtful. “I’ve always wanted to know how Muggles lived without magic. It seems so difficult to manage.”

“You get used to it,” Dean shrugged. “Hard to miss something when you’ve never had it.” He snagged a piece of chocolate pie before it could whiz by. “This though is the best part about magic so far.”

Sam shook his head at his brother’s antics. He looked around the table. Ron was shovelling his cake into his mouth. Hermione was looking at him with an air of disgust.

“Slow down Ronald… honestly…” 

Dean started asking Fred and George about owning a joke shop.

“It’s wicked!” Fred said enthusiastically. “There was a lot of work that went into it, but it’s been very popular since we opened.”

“With everything going on since You-Know-Who came back, people need a bit of humour in their lives,” George added. “We’re happy to oblige.”

“I must get some more stuff from you,” Dean smirked.

“No,” interrupted Sam. “No more damn prank wars.”

“Prank wars?” The twins asked in unison, their eyes alight with curiosity. “Wicked…”

“Yeah,” Sam ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. “We did them a lot when we were kids.”

Dean frowned. “You never let me have any fun.”

“Cause that usually makes people, aka me, miserable,” Sam scowled. 

“So as far as hunting goes. What’s been your favourite hunt?” Hermione perked up.

“One where we haven’t almost died,” Dean laughed. Sam frowned and then he laughed. “The ghost sickness,” he snickered. “Dean got infected with a sickness from a ghost, and he was scared of everything.”

“Ha-ha….” Dean grumbled. 

“Wait so you can get something called ghost sickness?” Ron looked shocked.

“It’s rare, but yeah. Wasn’t fun. Especially since I saw Lilith toward the end,” he frowned.

“You never told me that,” Sam said, surprised.

Dean shrugged. “Didn’t seem worth mentioning,” he said as he took a bite of pie. “With all the crap going on it didn’t seem important.” Sam watched his brother, realizing this was the second seemingly unimportant detail (to Dean at least) that Sam thought was a pretty big deal. What else has he been hiding from me?

“Don’t start Sam,” Dean muttered, “It wasn’t important. I was trying not to freak out after… Also, you’ve kept your own secrets. Besides, it’s over and none now. No use crying over spilt milk.” 

Sam huffed and nodded. 

“Aside from ghost sickness… What else is out there?” Harry looked intrigued by the possibility of new information.”

“Almost everything,” Dean answered. “Vampires, Werewolves, Demons, Angels, Shapeshifters, Wendigos, Shtrigas, Rugarus. You know, a little bit of everything.” 

“Wow…” Ron said.

“That’s just in America. God knows what’s in London.” Sam sighed.

“Angels and demons are real?” Ginny asked, her brown eyes were wide. 

“Yeah, they are,” Sam nodded.

The conversation went on for almost another half hour when Molly looked at the clock and gasped.

“Oh Merlin, it’s 1 am.”

“Talk about losing track of time,” Dean smirked. “We’d better get back. Unless there’s a spell to reverse back time.” Hermione looked down with a frown. 

“Thanks for having us over for the meeting,” Sam said gratefully. “It was great to meet you all.” Dean nodded in agreement. 

“We will see you at the start of term,” Albus nodded with a cheerful smile.

“I’ll bring you two back to the Leaky Cauldron,” Remus told them. “I need to be getting home now anyway. Tonks will want a full report.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

The Leaky Cauldron, London, England, 1 ^st September 2011

Sam lay down in his bed at the crack of dawn, in their room, thinking about the things that happened over the past couple of days. At times, it felt disorienting to think about. How long had it been since they were at the motel? A couple of days? Months? It was actually only been around 2 weeks, but it felt longer. It took a while for all the information to set in. 

First, it was finding out that there was a whole other world that they never knew about right under their noses, then there was this evil wizard who wanted to destroy all Muggles and preserve magical blood. Then there were the near-constant revelations from Dean about what happened while he was soulless. It bothered Sam how much information Dean kept from him with the pretext of not wanting Sam to get riled up, but still, he deserved to know.

All of their purchases from Diagon Alley were put in trunks to be taken to the train station where they would board the train to go to Hogwarts. A magical school for kids that they would soon be teaching at. Sam rolled his eyes, never thinking he’d put Professor and Dean Winchester in one sentence together. 

He knew of the other two wizard schools in Europe but wondered if there was an American equivalent. Surely he and Dean would have found it during their travels, right? He rubbed his forehead, a headache beginning to form behind his eyes.

Meanwhile, Dean lay in the other bed. His eyes were still closed, not willing to commit to being awake just yet. Like his brother, his thoughts were centred around what lay before him. Some magical school sitting God knows where.

I wonder how they conceal a magical castle from the Muggles? He wondered. I guess there are spells strong enough to conceal something that large. He assumed Sam knew. He’d been gushing about some book called Hogwarts: a History since they got there. Then he thought about the people from the Order meeting. He had to admit, going without Minnie rattled his confidence a little bit. She had been the only witch they encountered, and he grew familiar with how to deal with her. He remembered meeting Remus in the Leaky Cauldron, thinking there was something sketchy about him. But when Dean looked past the unkempt hair and long scars down his face, he found his grey eyes reminded Dean of what he looked at in his reflection. Then there was the Weasley’s. The perfect representation of a family in Dean’s opinion. A loving mother, a curious father, and lots of siblings with diverse interests.

Dean didn’t want to think too hard about Crazy Eye…. Not that anything had gone wrong in their first meeting, but he seemed like the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to cross. On the other hand, anyone who looked at the guy could see that, unless they were stupid, or had a death wish.

Then there was the 16-year-old that this whole Order was trying to protect. Dean couldn’t help making the comparison to Sam’s upbringing in his head. They both lost a parent young, were forced to grow up too fast, and their lives were far from perfect. You would think those kids would be terrified. Out of all the Weasley kids, and that other girl (Heather? No, that doesn’t sound right…. The last name was Granger though.) Harry seemed to be the one Dean would pick as the one to buckle under pressure. But he sat there calmly discussing the tragic events of his parents’ murder and the subsequent 15 years of hell he had to endure. 

Dean finally opened his eyes and looked over to his brother’s bed. Sam sat up and  his back was turned to Dean.  Something about that kid made him want to protect him, like his dad asked him to protect Sam. 

They mostly stayed in their rooms for the final 2 weeks before term. Sam was researching and working out lesson plans. Right before they left, Minerva had given them a piece of paper with the year schedule. It also contained some information about the subjects the students were taught. Sam discovered that third-year students and up took elective subjects.

Through correspondence with Albus, they determined it would be best for students third year and up to take the class, but instead of an elective, it would be treated as a core subject. Meaning everyone would have to take it. 

“It’s a great way to piss off a bunch of 13-year-olds,” Dean mentioned offhand.

Sam got up and prepared for the day. He sat in the bed and looked through his laptop while waiting for Dean to wake up from his beauty sleep. He remembered at the last minute to give his laptop to Arthur as well as their phones. Arthur got it back to them fairly quickly. To their relief, it worked. As soon as they turned their phones on, they lit up with messages and missed calls from their friends, mainly Bobby. It was nice to still be connected to the non-magical world, to some degree at least. 

It was half-past eight; Minerva said that the Aurors would be there at ten to pick them up. Sam sighed, if they were going to be ready to leave by then he had better wake up sleeping beauty.

“Dean? Wake up, man.” Sam said.

Dean snored a little louder in response. 

“Dean?” Sam got up and shook the bed. “Dean?”

“Five more minutes dad!” Dean whined, deciding to annoy his little brother. “I’m canoodling with the Olsen twins.” And he smiled a sleepy smile.

Sam pulled out his wand, a little wary of using it, but deciding to have a little fun. Sam’s wand was elm, dragon heartstring and ten inches while Dean’s wand had a core of phoenix feather, made of oak and was twelve inches long.

“Hey Sam, mine’s bigger,” Dean grinned.

“Hum…” He picked up a book. “Hexes and Curses to Entertain Your Friends huh?” Sam grinned impishly. “This should be fun.”

He found a particularly nasty one and waved his wand. He frowned; the spell didn’t seem to work at first, just like the levitation charm. He looked at the page and wondered if he had mispronounced the spell. 

Just then Dean finally decided to wake up. “Hey bro, what are you up to?” He swung his legs off the bed, facing away from Sam, and stretched. 

“I’m fi-” Sam was about to reply, but then he caught sight of something curly sticking out of Dean’s underwear and then realized that it was a pig’s tail.

“What?” Dean turned to look at Sam. “Do I have something in my teeth?” Then his eyes bugged out. “Is my hair messed up?”

“No, you look good.” Sam tried to keep the smile off his face. Dean looked perplexed.

“Whatever man, I’m gonna take a shower before those guys show up.” Sam couldn’t control his laughter. Three… two… one…

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Dean’s voice came from the bathroom. “Sam what the fuck is this?!”
Sam tried to contain his fits of laughter and be ready for his brother to come out.
Dean came out of the bathroom with his towel on and looked as mad as Sam had ever seen him.

“Did you do this?” Dean muttered. “What in the hell did you do?” Sam busted out laughing and almost rolled off the bed.

“Dammit Sam this isn’t funny!” Dean growled. “Fix it now!” Sam continued to laugh, so he reached over for his wand. “Do it or I’ll…” 

“You’ll what? Leviosa me to death?” Sam kept the mood light but the look in his brother’s eye made him mutter the counter curse quickly. Dean huffed and went to take a shower, an idea forming in his head that he may have to use something from the Weasley shop to get him back. Of course, Sammy’s probably knows all those spells already by heart.

Once he got out and traded places with Sam, Dean spotted the food trays that had been brought up for them. Dean crept over to his trunk and pulled out the box of puking pastilles and looked back over to Sam’s plate with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Sam was going to kill him for this.

Sam came out of the shower and dressed quickly, seeing that Dean was already scarfing down his food. Better eat mine before he gets to it too. 

“Dude slow down,” Sam commented as he sat down. 

“I want to be ready to go when those guys get here,” Dean spat between mouthfuls.

“Alright fine…” Sam held up his hands defensively, he looked down at the food, kind of wishing for once that it was a greasy burger and fries. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, right? 

Everything was going great until he got to the toast with grape jelly on it. He sniffed it and looked over to Dean who was focused on one of the spell books he recovered from the trunks. “You did something didn’t you?”

“What?” Dean looked up. “You’re paranoid, man…. It’s just toast.”

Sam pushed his plate away at once, grimacing.

“Bullshit. Dude, I know you,” Sam accused. “You’re getting payback.”

Dean rolled his eyes, internally cursing his brother’s pickiness.  I’m offended you’d think I’d stoop so low.”

“You have a bag of crap from the Weasley’s shop in your trunk… and if I opened it, I’d find something open.  I’m not stupid Dean.” 

Dean grumbled under his breath as they finished. Sam laughed smugly. Just then there was a knock on the door and Dean put on some pants and a t-shirt and answered the door.

“Can I help you?” Dean looked at the two suspicious characters on the doorstep, it was a man and woman. The man was a tall black wizard with broad shoulders. He was bald with a cap on his head and a single gold hoop earring in his left ear. The woman was shorter and had dark twinkling eyes and a pale heart-shaped face and short spiky brown hair.

“Hello, my name is Kingsley Shacklebolt, and this is Nymphadora Tonks.”

“I told you not to call me that!” The woman’s hair changed again to bright pink. “It’s just plain Tonks!” Kingsley rolled his eyes. Tonks shook her head violently and her hair changed back to mousy brown. “Are you Sam or Dean?”

Dean laughed, turning on the charm. “I’ll be whoever you want me to be, baby.” 

Tonks looked behind him and smirked. “Keep it up, and I’ll give you a pig nose to go with that tail.” 

“Tonks one, Dean zero,” Sam mumbled, realizing the tail had returned. Dean scowled as he glared at his brother Sam rolled his eyes.

“I’m Sam, and he’s Dean,” he said, looking at the witch. Tonks smiled and waved her light-coloured wand. The tail disappeared from the backside of Dean’s jeans, and he sighed in relief. 

“So, you’re the Muggle Professors,” Kingsley said with a smile. 

“Yes, we are.” Sam came to the door. 

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Tonks smirked. “I’ve read your files. Sam is the smart and polite one.”

“Oh really?” Dean grinned. “What did my file say? That I was ruggedly handsome?”

She chuckled. “You don’t want to know. Besides, Remus and I are seeing each other. I assume you met him at the meeting?” Two points Tonks, Dean still zero, Sam thought. He watched his brother’s face fall. 

“Are you all set to go?” Kingsley asked. 

“I think so.” A delivery boy came up to them then and a covered cage in his hands. “Delivery for Mr D. Winchester?”

“Ah, it got here before we left. That’s me, thanks.” Dean took the cage from the delivery boy. 

“What’s that?” Sam asked, his curiosity piqued. 

“It was gonna be a present for you but since you gave me a pig’s tail….”

“You got me a present?” Sam sounded incredulous. When would he have had time to go get it? We’ve been together since we got here.

“Not any more. She’s mine.” Dean hugged the cage close and hid it from Sam’s view. 

“Come on.”

The two wizards looked at the exchange. Kingsley thought Dumbledore had finally lost his mind and Tonks was trying to keep from laughing, her hair turning a sunny yellow colour
Eventually, Dean caved and showed Sam his present. He revealed a beautiful barn owl that hooted dolefully. Sam grinned. It was the owl he had been admiring two weeks beforehand, while they were waiting to go to Grimmauld Place. She had large dark eyes set in a white heart-shaped face, tilting her head from one side to the other, looking at her new owners curiously. 

“Thanks, man,” Sam said gratefully.

“No problem. I’ve joint custody now,” Dean grinned. “I bought her.”

“She’s not some girl you hooked up with at a bar, Dean,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.

“I know that! Plus, we could send Bobby letters. Even with these charms Arthur put on them, I don’t think our phones will be very reliable and Bobby’d be pissed if we didn’t contact him somehow. Maybe we could send Cas a letter too. And don’t tell me seeing their reactions wouldn’t be priceless.”

“Why don’t we get this show on the road?” Tonks cut in before Sam could reply. She glanced at the clock with a worried expression.

“Speaking of roads, what about my car? Will she be coming too?” he asked with a worried expression. His baby was now at Singer’s Salvage Yard, though not for the reason most cars went there for.

“Your car will be brought to Hogwarts magically?” Tonks said it like it was a question not realizing that they wouldn’t understand how they could transport large objects with relative ease.

“That’s great, thanks,” Sam grinned.

“We will be Side-Along-Apparating you to King’s Cross station, where you will pass the barrier,” Kingsley said. “Minerva told us you were familiar with that mode of travel. Grab your bags.” Sam and Dean picked up the small duffel bags and the owl cage and stood facing the witch and wizard. They grabbed their arms and turned on the spot. They had the sensation of moving way too rapidly and suddenly, they were outside a huge old looking train station. 

“A bit of warning next time?” Dean said irritably. Tonks smiled. Sam looked at his ticket.

“Platform 9 and ¾, where’s that?” 

“It’s one of those things that they can’t see,” Tonks replied in a whisper. “The entrance is hidden in the place that they would least expect.”

“Why not just be like normal people and have it right smack dab in the middle of it all?” Dean mouthed off. 

“That kind of puts a damper on the whole ’secret wizarding world’ Dean.” Sam rolled his eyes.

The four of them got strange looks from everyone at Kings Cross. They even heard one person say, “That must be one of those people. They are so strange.”

“We have arrived,” Kingsley announced.

Dean and Sam looked at the wall that separated the trains at platforms nine and ten, and then they turned to get onto the train on platform nine. 

“What are you two doing?” Tonks grabbed them.

“Getting on the train?” Sam wondered still if this was all a big joke that Cas was playing on them, but if it was, it was pretty elaborate. Come to think of it, the angel really didn’t have much of an imagination for human stuff, much less a whole secret society of witches.

“No genius. The platform is there.” She pointed at the wall. “And I thought you were the smart one.”

“I thought the ¾’s was a typo,” Sam confessed, under his breath. “I thought we were going to get on platform nine and then connect somewhere else.” 

“No sir, Platform 9¾ is hidden behind that wall, we are going to go through the wall,” Kingsley informed them.

“You want us to run into a wall… on purpose?” Dean looked at the two wizards. “You’ve got to be kidding me! That’s it, I'm out!” He threw up his hands and walked away. He could take everything else, but he had to draw the line somewhere. Appearing out of thin air and stepping out of fireplaces was one thing….

Tonks was about to go after him and drag him back, but Sam interceded. “I’ve got this, he just needs a few minutes.”

“Well, he’d better get a move on!” Tonks looked at her watch. “The train will leave soon, and it’s the only way to get there.”

“I promise we’ll be on it.” Sam gave her his ’good guy’ smile. 

“Dude, this is crap! I’ve put up with a lot of things, but this is too much.” Dean said when Sam approached.

“We’ve dealt with a lot of crap in our lives Dean,” Sam pointed out.

“But running at a wall?” Dean said exasperatedly. “It’s gonna hurt like hell and then these people are gonna have us arrested. Then we’ll get transferred back to the States, and it’ll probably be a one way trip to the electric chair for me, Sammy.”

Kingsley approached them. “Watch,” he said in his deep tone. Dean and Sam shared a weary glance. Kingsley pointed towards an eleven-year-old sprinting towards the wall and just as Sam and Dean thought he was going to collide with the very hard looking brickwork, he vanished. The Winchesters’ eyes widened.

“Great, now we’re being shown up by eleven-year-olds!” Dean said. “It is cool though.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Remember that ghost kid that beat you up when Pamela made us spirits?” Sam grinned.

“He beat you up too!” Dean said indignantly. Tonks turned to them.

“Your turn!” she grinned.

“Best to get this over with,” Sam sighed. “Oldest first,” he grinned. Dean huffed. He ran towards the wall after checking that no one was looking. He saw the brick wall growing nearer and nearer and his eyes screwed shut as he met the wall. He didn’t feel the impact. It was as if walking through the cold, and then the loud noise of a steam engine met his ears. He opened his eyes as his brother appeared with the Aurors. 

“Better get on,” Tonks smiled. “Wouldn’t want to be late.”

“Thanks,” Sam smiled a little.

“Our pleasure,” Kingsley replied. Sam and Dean walked through the crowd of kids with their parents, getting on the train. They walked down the corridors, past compartment after compartment.

“Maybe we should just kick one of the compartments out,” Dean suggested with a shrug. “They’d have to listen to us. We’re teachers.” Sam didn’t bother answering. He walked further.

“Hey look, there’s a free one here,” he said, opening the door. The Winchesters walked inside and dumped their bags on the seats beside them. Sam put the owl cage down, looking to see that the barn owl was asleep with her head under her wing.

“On a train to a magic school… and I thought our life couldn’t get weirder,” Dean mused. Sam laughed.

“I’d say it would be a long journey,” Sam said, pulling out Hogwarts: A History again.

“Go ahead geek boy,” Dean grinned. “What are you going to call the owl, anyway?” he asked. Sam looked down, in all the excitement of getting to the train he forgot that she still didn’t have a name. His thoughts turned to the different names he thought of as a child when he would ask his father for pets, but nothing seemed to fit her. She was beautiful and quiet, putting Dean in his place when he wouldn’t let Sam hold her by biting him on the finger. “I was thinking of Jess,” he replied with a note of sadness. “She’s got many of the qualities I liked in Jess.”

“Yeah, Jessica was pretty alright,” Dean said, lacking the usual cockiness he would have supplied with the words. “I think it suits her.” Sam smiled a little.

“So, I was thinking,” Sam said, changing the subject. “Maybe some of our classes should be inside and outside we would have physical training once a week,” he suggested.

“Yeah, sure. They have to be able to fight without weapons and with them. Just the knowledge won’t help,” Dean said. 

“True,” Sam replied.

They didn’t say much more after that. A few hours passed, and they heard a woman’s voice calling out. “Anything from the trolley?”

“Great, I’m starved!” Dean exclaimed. “Hope they got liquorice.”  The cart stopped outside the door and the woman smiled.

“Would you like anything, sirs?” she asked.

“What have you got?” Dean asked. 

“Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Jelly Slugs, Liquorice wands and Pumpkin Pasties,” She smiled.

“Awesome. Can I get two of those beans, the liquorice, and some cakes?” Dean asked.

“No problem dear,” she said, handing him the sweets. “That will be four Sickles.” Dean handed her the money and went inside, grinning. He picked up the Liquorice Wand and took a bite, moaning in ecstasy. Sam grimaced.

“Dude, do not make those sounds… it’s just plain creepy,” he shuddered.

“Shut up Sammy, here, have a jellybean,” he said, tossing him the box. Sam sighed, but took a bean out of the box and popped it into his mouth. He spit it out at once.

“What the hell is that?” he exploded. “It tasted like vomit.”  Dean examined the back, seeing that vomit was one of the flavours.

“I guess they mean every flavour,” he muttered with a grin.

“Shut up De-” Sam was cut off by a disturbance down the hall. The brothers stood, sensing unease. They nodded to each other and left the compartment, seeing a blond boy who looked sixteen with what could only be described as two goons beside him a few doors down. 

“Potter, you’ll pay for what you did to my father!” The blond boy said angrily

“Funny,” a familiar voice sounded. “What will happen, Malfoy? Voldemort will do me in? He hasn’t had much success so far, has he?”

“You!” Malfoy shouted as he lunged forward. Sam and Dean sprinted up.

“Hey what’s going on here?” Dean interrupted loudly, trying to sound like an authoritative teacher. Malfoy stopped and looked back, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing Professors,” Harry told them, standing with Hermione and Ron. Malfoy’s eyes darted from the brothers to Harry Ron and Hermione. Two other students came out of the compartment. One was a girl with dirty blonde hair and mystical blue eyes, and she was standing beside a boy with dark brown hair, who looked slightly nervous. 

“No rough-housing,” Dean said simply. Except for Malfoy and his goons, the kids stood up and looked at them with shocked looks on their faces. This is cool, now I know why the teachers at school seemed to have a power trip… 

“Sorry but are you our new Professors?” the blonde girl asked.

“Yeah, we are. Now, you guys leave and stop causing trouble,” Dean said, looking to the three students in green. Malfoy’s eyes were filled with disgust as he glared at them. Dean caught on.

“What’s with the look? Is it because we’re… Muggles?” Dean asked in a calm tone, but only Sam could see the anger that lay beneath. He shot a sharp stare toward Malfoy.

“No,” Malfoy lied.

“Look, I know you’re lying. Listen, at the end of the day, we’re all human, and the creatures we’re gonna be teaching you about? They don’t care if you’re a witch or wizard or human. They’ll still kill you. So, I would drop the prejudice,” Dean said calmly. 

“Come on Crabbe, Goyle,” Malfoy said uncomfortably and the three left.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, England, 12 ^th August 2011

Harry awoke to the sound of Mrs Weasley at the bedroom door.

“Come on! Up! We need to be in Diagon Alley within the hour!” she called. Ron grinned.

“We’re up, we’re up,” he grumbled. His face suddenly brightened. “I get my broom today.”

Ron had been gushing about this broom since the day before. They received their O.W.L results the previous night. Harry, Ron and Hermione did well. Harry had mostly high grades, failing 2 subjects, which he didn’t feel too bad about, considering he collapsed with the vision of Sirius during one of them. Ron did similarly and  Hermione had gotten all O’s, apart from an Exceeds Expectations in Defence Against the Dark Arts. 

Molly rewarded Ron with a new broomstick, which they were going to pick up that day, along with their books. Both he and Harry arose and pulled on robes as they wiped the sleep from their eyes.

“Hey, do you think we’ll see the new Professors?” Harry asked. Ron shrugged.

“Maybe.” They walked downstairs in a tired fashion to see Hermione and Ginny around the table,  not fully awake yet either. Mrs Weasley set a plate of sausage and eggs in front of them along with orange juice. 

“Thanks, Mum,” Ron said. His mother smiled a little back.

“You’re welcome. Eat up. We have to get your things,” Mrs Weasley said.

“Where do we have to go?” Ginny asked.

“Well your textbooks in Flourish and Blotts, which are The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 6), Advanced Potion-Making, Confronting the Faceless for Defence Against the Dark Arts, A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration,  Advanced Rune Translation and Supernatural Beasts and Defence for Demonology,” Mrs Weasley read, frowning slightly as she reached the end. “It also says you need suitable running wear and notebooks.”

“Wonder why,” Ron said with his mouth full. Mrs Weasley whacked Ron on the back of the head with the paper and scolded him, telling him not to talk while eating. Hermione and Ginny got up and left to get ready while Harry and Ron chatted. Hermione and Ginny walked upstairs, and Ginny grinned. She grabbed the hairbrush before Hermione could and stuck her tongue out at her. Hermione rolled her eyes.

When the girls were done, they all gathered in the kitchen where Mrs Weasley was standing at the front door.

“Harry, dear I forgot. Bill got this out of your vault at Gringotts for you,” she said, handing Harry a small duffel pouch filled with Galleons.

“Tell him thanks Mrs Weasley,” Harry smiled back. Mr Weasley came down the stairs.

“I will, dear,” Mrs Weasley replied.

“Come on, we must head off now,” Mr Weasley said. One of the special Ministry of Magic cars, in which Harry had ridden once before, was awaiting them in the front yard when they emerged from the house, pulling on their cloaks.

“It’s good Dad can get us these again,” said Ron appreciatively, stretching luxuriously as the car moved smoothly away from the Burrow, Bill and Fleur waving from the kitchen window. He, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were all sitting in roomy comfort in the wide backseat.

“Don’t get used to it, it’s only because of Harry,” said Mr Weasley over his shoulder. He and Mrs Weasley were in front with the Ministry driver; the front passenger seat obligingly stretched into what resembled a two-seater sofa.

“He’s been given top-grade security status. And we’ll be joining up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron too.”

“Here you are, then,” said the driver, a surprisingly short while later, speaking for the first time as he slowed in Charing Cross Road and stopped outside the Leaky Cauldron. “I’m to wait for you, any idea how long you’ll be?”

“A couple of hours, I expect,” said Mr Weasley. “Ah, good, he’s here!”

Harry looked over and smiled as he saw Hagrid.

“Harry!” he boomed, sweeping Harry into a bone-crushing hug the moment Harry had stepped out of the car. The group moved through the Leaky Cauldron, noticing that the atmosphere was thick with tension. They arrived in Diagon Alley and Mr Weasley spoke.

“Why don’t those three go with Hagrid, and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone’s school-books?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” said Mrs Weasley anxiously, clearly torn between a desire to finish the shopping quickly and the wish to stick together in a pack. “Hagrid, do you think —? 

“Don’t fret, they’ll be fine with me, Molly,” said Hagrid soothingly, waving an airy hand the size of a dustbin lid. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid set off for Madam Malkin’s.

When they reached the shopfront, Harry could see through the window that Madam Malkin was upset about something, he wondered if there was something wrong.

“’Ello Madam Malkin!” Hagrid greeted her with a big smile.

“Oh, hello Hagrid! It’s good to see you again!” Madam Malkin replied with a small smile, chasing away her worried expression.

“I’ve brought in the youngsters ’ere for some new robes.” Hagrid gestured to Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Yea, I’ve used mine so much that they’ve got holes in them.” Ron pointed to the cuffs of his robe that were worn out from abuse. 

“Oh Mr Weasley, you have got to take better care of your robes!” Madam Malkin chucked and took him back first.

Hermione went in next and then Harry was the last to go.

“Madam Malkin, is everything alright?” Harry asked as she started pinning away. “You looked like something was bothering you earlier.”

Madam Malkin had a concerned look on her face but quickly replaced it with a calm demeanour.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just tired from a long day’s work. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Harry didn’t ask any more questions about it. Whatever was bothering her was her business. 

The four of them thanked Madam Malkin and left the shop. 

“Did you notice Madam Malkin’s expression before we came in?” Hermione asked them.

“I thought I was the only one,” Harry admitted. “She looked upset about something.”

“Yea, I thought it was a bit strange.” Ron agreed. “Did she say anything to the two of you?”

“She told me that she was just tired,” Harry answered. 

“Well, she confided in me that the new professors were in a few minutes before us,” Hermione said.

“Really? Did something bad happen?” Ron’s eyebrows knitted together.

“She said that they started fighting about something,” Hermione replied. “She didn’t say what about though.”

“Huh,” Ron sighed.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Hermione said.

“Yeah,” Harry frowned. “Hey look,” he said, glancing at the entrance to Knockturn Alley to see Draco Malfoy look around before walking down.

“The git going down into Knockturn? What a surpr-’’ Ron was suddenly cut off by a man who brushed past him. He was very tall, with long brown hair, hazel eyes and an angry expression as he walked after another man that was shorter than him by a couple of inches, with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. Harry remembered with a jolt that these were the men in the Daily Prophet, their Demonology professors.

“Dean… I know you hate talking about this stuff, but you gotta talk sometime,” the taller man choked out in a hard voice.

“We can talk about it later Sammy,” the other said in a tired tone. They walked down the street toward the Leaky Cauldron.

“That must be the new Professors,” Hermione recalled their faces from the Daily Prophet article. 

“What’s their problem?” Ron asked angrily. 

“Obviously, they are having a private conversation and didn’t want us to intrude, Ronald.” Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. “Honestly, you can be so thick sometimes.”

“That doesn’t give them an excuse to ignore us.”

“We have to keep our opinions to ourselves.” Harry reminded them. “Remember what Dumbledore told us to do.” 

“I know, we’re supposed to be nice to them.” Ron glowered in their direction but said no more on the subject.

“Ron, they were talking about something important,” Hermione pressed.

Ron huffed while Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Come on, let’s go see what Malfoy is up to.” Harry motioned for them to follow him down Knockturn Alley. 

When they reached the shop called Borgin and Burkes, he put his hand out for Hermione and Ron to stop while he peeked into the window to see if Malfoy was in there.

Malfoy was standing with his back to the window staring at a huge cabinet talking with the shopkeeper. It looked like they were having an argument of some sort. Malfoy was flailing his arms around like Dudley did when he was having a tantrum and the shopkeeper would respond in the same manner. They couldn’t hear much.

“Go, go, go!” Harry whispered as he saw Malfoy coming towards the door, they hid in an abandoned alleyway cloaked by the darkness. 

Malfoy looked terrible, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was looking more gaunt than usual, his platinum blonde hair was very unkempt. He noticed his reflection in the glass window from the shop across the way and fixed his hair and then straightened out his clothes. He set his face in his trademark scowl and stalked down the street.

“Wow, he looked like he’s gone a round with the Whomping Willow.” Ron crossed his arms and frowned. “What do you think he was doing in there?”

“I don’t know, But I was there once,” Harry replied. “It’s a little shop of horrors alright.” He flexed his hand, remembering the feeling of being trapped in that creepy hand trap thing.

“Can we go?” Hermione asked with a worried expression. “I don’t like being down here.”

They all walked quickly back up to Diagon Alley. 

“Oy! Where ’ave you lot been?” Hagrid gave them a good scolding for running off.

“We’re sorry Hagrid.” They apologized. 

They met up with the rest of the group in front of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, the shop that was run by Ron’s twin older brothers Fred and George. Many kids were staring into the windows and going into the shop with bright eyes and their faces were lit up with glee.

“WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO? YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO—THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT’S GRIPPING THE NATION!” Was the sign that greeted them as they went into the front door.

“Ron, did I ever tell you that your brothers are fantastic?” Harry asked rhetorically.

“Yea, well don’t tell them that,” Ron smirked. “You don’t want to make their egos better than they already are.”

They searched the shop, squeezing through the crowds of people. They met Fred and George near a display of love potions. Hermione complimented the spellwork involved, and Fred walked up at that particular moment. He offered her one for free, which made her turn a bright shade of pink, and mumble incoherently that it wasn’t necessary.

“How much for this?” asked Ron, holding up a small box.

“Five galleons,” Fred and George said simultaneously.

“How much for me?” Ron answered, a hopeful look in his eye as he took the chance.

“Five galleons,” they repeated.

“I’m your brother,” Ron scowled. “Come on.”

“Ten galleons,” the twins shrugged and grinned.

⸸

The weeks seemed to fly by while Harry was at the Burrow. It usually did whenever he visited, time seemed to drag on and on when he was at the Dursleys. One night in particular stuck out to him, the Order meeting. They met Sam and Dean Winchester, their new Professors.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed up after the meeting to discuss the subject. Hermione was thrilled with the new subject, as the other two thought she would be. They figured she read the new textbook cover to cover already. Ron seemed to hate the idea of any possible physical exercise associated with the new class. Harry wondered what kind of creatures they would be learning about. 

The two brothers seemed fairly normal in his opinion. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he heard the term ’demon hunters’. But what he imagined wasn’t it.  They seemed like ordinary people, for Americans anyway. Not that Harry met many Americans. Hermione still couldn’t believe what Ron asked within the first three seconds of meeting them, but he was confident that she would get over it… eventually….  

September the first came around in what seemed like no time at all. Mrs Weasley had woken them that morning, and they all sluggishly got dressed.

“It’s been six years, and you would think we would be used to getting up this early.” Harry yawned as he got up and stretched.

“Ugh, this never gets any easier.” Ron groaned into his pillow. “Hermione needs to find a wide-awake spell… or potion… or something….” And within seconds he was snoring into his pillow again.

“They’ve already invented that one mate, Accio alarm clock.” Harry waved his wand and the alarm clock that Hermione had given Ron last year for his birthday floated from the closet where Ron had thrown it the first time he used it. Harry set the time and set it right by Ron’s head. He figured he had just enough time to run over to the other side of the room before the alarm clock went off.

“Oy!” Ron bolted off the bed and landed on the floor. Harry couldn’t control his laughter as he looked at Ron’s dumbfounded expression. 

“You! I’ll get you for this Harry Potter, you little git!” Ron tackled Harry to the ground and started to give him a noogie. 

Mrs Weasley left the door to Ron’s bedroom open and just as Harry and Ron were getting into it Hermione walked by and shook her head. Rolling her eyes and said “Boys.” in a sigh.

“Come on everyone,” Mrs Weasley shouted from the story below.

They all walked downstairs, and hungrily devoured the bowls of cereal they had picked out.

They ate quickly, excitement for Hogwarts seeping into their minds.

“Ah, Harry!” said Mrs Weasley suddenly. “I forgot, I wanted to explain about the security arrangements for the journey to Hogwarts tomorrow. We’ve got Ministry cars again, and there will be Aurors waiting at the station--”

“Is Tonks going to be there?” asked Harry, handing over his Quidditch things.

“No, I don’t think so, she’s been stationed somewhere else from what Arthur said.”

The Ministry cars glided up to the front of the Burrow. Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks was safely enclosed in his travelling basket; and Hedwig; Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon; and Ginny’s new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, in cages. 

No cheerful Hagrid was waiting for them at King’s Cross Station. Instead, two grim-faced, bearded Aurors in dark Muggle suits moved forward the moment the cars stopped and, flanking the party, marched them into the station without speaking.

“Quick, quick, through the barrier,” said Mrs Weasley, who seemed a little flustered by this austere efficiency. 

Harry pushed his trolley directly at the solid barrier, and found himself, a second later, standing on Platform 9¾, where the scarlet Hogwarts Express stood belching steam over the crowd. Hermione and the Weasleys joined him within seconds. Harry motioned to Ron and Hermione to follow him up the platform, looking for an empty compartment.

“We can’t, Harry,” said Hermione, looking apologetic. “Ron and I’ve got to go to the prefects’ carriage first and then patrol the corridors for a bit.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” said Harry.

“You’d better get straight on the train, all of you, you’ve only got a few minutes to go,” said Mrs Weasley, consulting her watch. “Well, have a lovely term, Ron…”

“Now, dear, you’re coming to us for Christmas, it’s all fixed with Dumbledore, so we’ll see you quite soon,” said Mrs Weasley through the window, as Harry slammed the door shut behind him and the train began to move. 

Harry waved until the train turned a corner and Mr and Mrs Weasley were lost in view. He made his way toward her, dragging his trunk. People stared shamelessly as he approached. They even pressed their faces against the windows of their compartments to get a look at him.

“Fancy trying to find a compartment?” Harry asked

“I can’t, Harry, I said I’d meet Dean Thomas,” said Ginny brightly. “See you later.”

“Right,” said Harry. 

“Hi, Harry!” said a familiar voice from behind him.

“Neville!” said Harry in relief, turning to see a round-faced boy struggling toward him.

“Hello, Harry,” said a girl with long hair and large misty eyes, who was just behind Neville.

“Luna, hi, how are you?”

“Very well, thank you,  said Luna. She was clutching a magazine to her chest; large letters on the front announced that there was a pair of free Spectrespecs inside. They finally found a compartment and sat down. The talk was minimal as the time passed and a few moments after the food trolley arrived, Ron and Hermione returned. 

“Malfoy’s bullying some first years… git,” Ron scowled.

“It’s really wrong of him,” Hermione agreed. “He shouldn’t abuse his power like that.”

“Shouldn’t I?” asked a bored voice from the door as it opened to reveal Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. 

“Well, look who it is,” said Malfoy in a lazy drawl, pulling open the compartment door. “Potty and the Weasel.” Crabbe and Goyle chuckled trollishly.

“Shove off Malfoy,” Hermione replied angrily. 

“Was I talking to you, Granger?” Malfoy spat angrily. “Potter, you’ll pay for what you did to my father!” 

“Funny,” Harry said as if he were speaking to a two-year-old. “What will happen, Malfoy? Voldemort will do me in? He hasn’t had much success so far, has he?” 

“You!” Malfoy shouted as he lunged forward. They heard rapid footsteps approaching.

“Hey what’s going on here?” a voice interrupted loudly. It was Dean Winchester, one of their Demonology teachers. His brother, Sam, came to his side. 

“Nothing,” Harry replied. He noted that Luna’s face was a mask of dream-like calm, and Neville’s was filled with nerves. 

“No rough-housing,” Dean said simply. 

“Sorry, but are you our new professors?” Luna asked.

“Yeah, we are. Now, you guys leave and stop causing trouble.” Dean said, looking at Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy’s eyes were filled with disgust as he glared at them. Dean caught on.

“What’s with the look? Is it cause we’re… Muggles?” Dean asked in a calm tone. He looked eerily calm… too calm. Sam gave him a warning look.

“No,” Malfoy sneered.

“Look, I know you’re lying. Listen, at the end of the day, we’re all human, and the creatures we’re gonna be teaching you about? They don’t care if you’re a witch or wizard or human. They’ll still kill you. So, I would drop the prejudice,” Dean said calmly, feeling a little victorious smirk spread across his face from the little speech. He was reminded of gym shorts, dodgeballs, and a shiny whistle. It makes me their god….

“Come on Crabbe, Goyle,” Malfoy said uncomfortably and the three shuffled off in reluctant defeat. Dean and Sam also left.

“Wow,” Neville mumbled.

“Thank you, Professors,” Hermione smiled at the two older men. 

“No problem kiddo.” Dean grinned. “So are those guys friends of yours?”

“Not bloody likely….” Ron glowered in the direction Malfoy went. 

“I’m Luna Lovegood.” The blonde girl held up her hand for them to shake. “I’m in Ravenclaw House. This is Neville Longbottom, he’s in Gryffindor like Harry, Ron, and Hermione.”

Sam smiled as he shook her hand, engulfing her small hand. “It’s nice to meet you both, I’m sorry we had to meet like this.”

“It’s quite alright.” Luna smiled. “Can I interest you in a copy of the Quibbler?”

Dean looked at the others and saw Ron roll his eyes. 

“Sure.” Sam nodded remembering Hermione mentioned it was a good magazine. “How much?”

“The first issue is free,” Luna replied, then she disappeared into the compartment and brought out a copy of the Quibbler. 

“Are you sure we can’t pay you?” Sam asked as he took the magazine from her. “You wouldn’t be trying to butter up your Professors before classes start?”

The boy, Neville, looked horrified. “No! Of course not. We would never do anything like that.”

“It’s okay kid, he’s pulling your leg.” Dean smiled and the two of them headed back to their compartment. 

“So who was the wannabe Al Capone?” Dean asked. He was met with three bemused looks from the students. “C’mon… Scarface?” he frowned. 

“Dude… you really expected them to get that?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a classic!”

Sam shook his head exasperatedly. 

“You’re talking about a film right?” Harry frowned. “Dudley used to watch that with Piers.” 

“Yeah, it’s a film.” To his credit, Dean only looked mildly offended. 

“My parents wouldn’t let me watch it,” Hermione replied. 

“Yeah, I get that,” Dean shrugged. “Anyway, what was up with him?”

“He’s a git,” Ron supplied. 

“Ronald.” Hermione chastised him. He shrugged off her glare. “His father got into some trouble last June.”

Sam nodded, realizing what she meant. He had done a little digging, discovering a list called the Pureblood registry in a book in Flourish and Blotts. It listed 28 families, known as the ’Sacred Twenty-Eight’. They were the 28 families considered to still be Pureblood by the 1930s. The Malfoys were listed near the top. He recalled the name Lucius Malfoy from an article in the newspaper, him being one of many Death Eaters that escaped from a prison called Azkaban in July.  The pieces began to slot together in his head. 

“We’ll be arriving soon, we should probably get ready,” Hermione spoke up, knowing there were too many curious ears around. 

“Okay, let’s go,” Dean nodded to Sam. They walked back to the car.

“Was that kid’s dad involved in what happened to Harry in June?” Dean asked. “Cause it seems a little coincidental.

“Yeah, apparently he was one of the Death Eaters that went to trap Harry and His friends,” Sam told him. “He got put in prison for it. But there was a big breakout in July. Nobody has seen the Death Eaters since.”

“So is this just an isolated incident, or I wonder if the son takes after the father?” Dean frowned. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1 ^st September 2011

The Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station in record time, the billowing of smoke announcing its arrival. Students poured out of the steam engine in throngs. Sam and Dean Winchester stood among them, waiting to get off. Dean was about eye level with most of the seventh year students, but Sam stood out among the crowd, making him an easy target for onlookers to stare at.

“All firs' years over 'ere!” a booming voice called. Sam and Dean looked over and stopped in their tracks. Their eyes went wide as they saw a huge figure looming over the already tiny First Years. The man had to be at least 11 feet tall. He had a mane of black hair, and his face was almost obscured by a large black beard. He was wearing a giant moleskin overcoat. 

“Wow…” Dean muttered. “Giants…?” The huge man looked over the crowd, spotting the two unfamiliar adult faces, and walked towards them. “Hey Sam, look, it’s a distant cousin,” he whispered before he could get close. Sam rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to punch his brother in the balls. 

“Keep it up, Dean… I don’t mind never being an Uncle.” Sam muttered back. 

“Yeh must be the Winchesters,” He smiled. Under the bushy beard, his eyes were kind.

“Yes sir, I’m Sam, this is Dean.” The youngest Winchester shook the giant’s hand, for once his hand was engulfed by someone else's.“No need fer all that ‘sir’ nonsense,” the giant smiled. “Call me Hagrid,” he said. “Everyone, I’m the Care of Magical Creatures Professor.”

“Oh cool, another teacher. Magical creatures sound interesting.” Dean nodded, thinking a big guy like that probably comes in handy when creatures are involved.

“Sure are,” Hagrid’s eyes beamed with pride. “Some of the youngin’s think ‘cause it’s an elective that s’not a real class…” he shrugged. “But I have my favourites,” he smiled. “Good luck to ya both. I should be gettin’ back teh the firs' years.”

“See you then.” Sam nodded. “He seemed nice.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “Like a huge fluffy teddy bear.”

“Ah, Mr and Mr Winchester. So glad to see you made it in one piece.” A voice came up from behind the two men. They turned in shock to see Minerva’s amused face greeting their surprised ones.

“Would you stop doing that?!” Dean growled at her, nerves still frayed from getting to the train and perturbed about the confrontation with the students on the train.

“Why would you deny me the chance of scaring the wits out of you?” She chuckled playfully. “I am to escort you to the carriages where you will be taken to the castle, and then you will be sorted into your houses.” 

“Sorted into houses?” Sam questioned. “I thought that was just for the students.”

“Every person who enters these halls must be sorted into a house. It will be your responsibility to make sure your houses are accounted for in case of an emergency. It gives us heads of houses a few extra pairs of eyes.”

Dean snorted. “Couldn't you just make an extra set of eyes? Sorry, Ma'am.” He added, at her look of disapproval. “You’re Head of the lion one, right?”

“Gryffindor, yes,” She smirked. “Follow me.”

They followed her down to where a group of students were waiting. There was a carriage that was pulling as they were coming closer. 

“Man, it’s like fourth grade all over again,” Dean whispered to Sam. The students turned their attention to the two brothers as Dean made his comment.

“Hi.” Dean addressed them. “I’m Dean Winchester, and this is my brother Sam.”

“Hello, Professors Winchester.” The students said in unison.

“Please call us Sam and Dean,” Sam told them with a smile. “Professor Winchester would be too confusing.” 

“And nerdy,” Dean added in a whisper, Sam rolled his eyes.

“Well, since the introductions are over, I suppose I’ll be going then. I have to assist the first years,” Minerva gave them a stern nod and turned swiftly on the spot and walked up to the castle.

“Goodbye Professor.” The many children speaking with one voice bid her farewell. 

“OK, the speaking in unison crap is really getting old,” Dean told them, trying to look like the stern teacher type. They remind me of the twins from The Shining…. Dean thought to himself.

“I’m sorry Professor Winchester.” A small girl smiled sheepishly. “We are so used to addressing the Professors as such that you kind of get used to it.” She put her magazine up into her bag and approached them with an air of amusement. 

“Well throw all that out the window with us,” Dean smirked. “Luna, right?”

“Yes, Luna Lovegood.” She smiled brightly. She was wearing freakishly psychedelic glasses that she pulled off and sat on top of her head. “It’s a pleasure to meet you properly Dean Winchester.” 

“Dean,” Sam muttered disapprovingly, spotting his brother staring at the strange glasses. 

“It’s alright Sam.” Luna smiled dreamily. “These are called Spectrespecs. They allow me to see the wrackspurts. You can’t see them without these.”

“What are wrackspurts?” Sam asked her. 

“They are invisible creatures that float through your ears causing the brain to go fuzzy.” She leaned in and beckoned them to come closer. “There have been some nasty cases of them wreaking havoc on unsuspecting witches and wizards, a whole bunch of them broke out of the Ministry Elfin’ Safety Enquiry.”

“Where did you hear that from?”

“In the Quibbler.” 

Sam and Dean both came to the same conclusion that Luna was a sweet girl, maybe a little odd, but harmless, and needed to be protected from these snobby kids. Just then a carriage pulled up that was driven by two skeletal horses and no driver.

“What in the world are those things pulling the carriage?” Sam stared in horror as the other students paid no attention to them.

“Oh great, another bunch of freaks.” The same kid rolled his eyes as he stepped on the carriage. “Nothing is pulling them!” 

“Those are called Thestrals,” Luna replied to Sam’s question, paying no attention to the boy’s remark. “If you can see them, that means that you have witnessed someone die.”

Well, shit. Sam and Dean shared a look; they, more than anyone else could see the thestrals, better than anyone.

“Don’t be afraid of them.” Luna sensed their distress. “They have been given a bad reputation for being omens of death, but they are very kind and gentle once you get to know them.”
The remaining students got in the carriages and Sam and Dean elected to wait with Luna for the next carriage, giving the thestrals a wide berth.

Sam and Dean looked at each other. They had seen more than their fair share of death since 1983. 

First their mother, then Jess, Dad, Madison, Dean, and Sam themselves, Ellen, Jo, Gabriel Zachariah, Anna, Bobby, and Cas once. Some were enemies, some allies. There had been more deaths of course and the fact that they witnessed the deaths of the people they loved, watching them die, was too much to bear. Hell, a month before, Dean went to an unlicensed doctor to get his heart stopped, so he could talk to the Horseman, Death, about getting Sam's soul back from Lucifer's Cage. Both brothers died multiple times, excluding Dean's curse with the then thought to be Trickster. Their worst fears were leaving the other behind. They never said it, but they both knew it was true. 

The Winchesters got into the carriages. After a while of travelling through the darkness they could spot the darkness dissipating, lanterns began to appear every half a mile. They lit the path before the carriage began to turn the corner then Sam spoke…

“Dean, look,” Sam breathed.

Dean, who was curiously looking at the weird plant in Neville’s hands, looked up and mumbled, “Woah.” 

“That never gets old….” Neville grinned as he looked at the new Professors.

The castle was huge, the biggest damn building that they ever saw. Turrets were pointing into the sky, some breaking through the low-hanging clouds. Enormous greenhouses with strange plants of every shape, size and colour. A clock tower looming over the front entrance where the students were filing in from the carriages. Overall the castle had a mysterious aura to it, but the warm lights coming from every window seemed to welcome them like a warm embrace. They approached the castle with the babbling of the surrounding students. Both Sam and Dean left the carriage and stood, facing a huge door.  

They were stopped by a man with hunched-shoulders and a hunchback. He had a horrible, pasty face and bulging, pale eyes, along with sunken, veined cheeks, and thin grey hair. Dean nearly had a heart attack and thought this was another one of the goblins from Gringotts. But then this guy was too tall for those guys. 

“We need to check you,” he said, raising an object that looked like an aerial. It did nothing and he waved them forward.

“Weird,” Dean muttered to Sam. “Was that some sort of metal detector thing?”

“Maybe it detects harmful enchantments? They could hardly let a student bring in something dangerous, could they?” Sam countered.

They walked inside. The walls were made of cold stone with torches hung every so often. Marble sculptures adorned the room, but the main element in the room was the huge staircase. Sam looked over to see four giant hourglasses, one red, with rubies inside, the next green with emeralds, blue with sapphires and yellow with ambers.

“What are those for?” Dean asked, pointing to the hourglasses.

“The Houses can gain points by achievements and lose points for misbehaving. The House with the most points wins the House Cup at the end of the year,” Luna told them. “It’s quite an honour.” 

Neville sighed as he looked at the hourglasses. “I hope we can win this year.”

“Cool,” Dean noted.

“Where do we have to go?” Sam asked Luna.

“The Great Hall. We have our Sorting ceremony and a start of term feast,” she explained. Dean grinned. Did she say feast? I hope they have cheeseburgers, probably not, but a guy can dream. They had come to another huge mahogany door. People filled in and Dean and Sam waited outside. They stood out of the way of the students as the last of them filed in. 

“Pardon me.” A few of the younger students said. 

“Great, we stick out like a sore thumb,” Dean muttered as they tried to edge past the students and make it to the wall. “Where is the wicked witch when you need her?” Sam gestured to their left, seeing said ‘wicked witch’.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” Minerva said from the front of the line of first years. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.” She smiled brightly at them.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smart yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes lingered for a moment on the Winchester boys in the back trying to be inconspicuous

“I will return when we are ready for you,” Minerva said. “Please wait quietly.” She made her way to the back where Sam and Dean were trying to hide. “The two of you can stay with this group to be Sorted.”

A few moments passed with the nervous first years speaking rapidly to each other. Minerva came back out and smiled a little.

“We're ready for you now,” she said. The first years began walking inside and Sam and Dean were aware of the knives they kept in their boots. They always had to have some kind of weapon on them. It made them feel naked otherwise.

Sam tried to absorb as much about the place as possible, I mean how many chances are you going to get to be in an enchanted castle? He then started noticing the paintings move, not only moving but talking.

“Good luck!” One said to a passing student. “I hope you make it into my house!”

“This is beyond weird,” Dean muttered.

“Compared with what we’ve faced before, this should be a cakewalk,” Sam muttered with a grin.

They walked inside to see four long tables, decorated with the four House colours, and at the top was a small stool with a hat on it. Behind that was a long table that reached the width of the Hall, containing what could only be the teachers. Candles were floating above them around the Hall, and it looked as if it were open to the sky outside. 

“It says in Hogwarts: A History that it's enchanted to look like the sky outside,” Sam told Dean.

“Nerd,” Dean muttered, and Sam scowled at him.

They walked down the centre, noticing the students looking at them with interest. They were two six-foot-tall men in their late twenties and early thirties, among four-foot-tall eleven-year-olds.

And if things couldn’t get any weirder, the ratty hat started singing.

“A millennium ago, I think,
Before I was ripped and torn,
Four founders came together,
And dear Hogwarts School was born.
Each founder picked the qualities
That he or she liked best,
They put their thoughts inside me,
And now I'll put you to the test.
Do you have the courage,
That dear Gryffindor admired?
Or perhaps you have the knowledge
That fair Ravenclaw required.
Would Hufflepuff suit you better,
With your honest dedication?
Or Slytherin, with your ambition,
Or your purest of relations?
Don't fret, my friends, I will decide
Which house is best for all.
But listen well, I warn you now,
That such divisions do appal.
I've said it once, I'll say again
As I have said before,
That only by uniting,
Can there be an end to war?
For no side can be strongest
Whether they are good or not,
Than when we use the qualities
That I reveal you've got.
For bravery and teamwork,
And a longing to succeed,
Along with knowledge, sure and strong,
Are qualities we all need.

So, step right up, slap me on,
I'll tell you what to do.
The Sorting Hat will place you
With others just like you.
But heed my warning, listen clear,
Divided though you be:
Together we're united,
Through bonds of wizardry.”

Everyone applauded and Minerva approached the hat and reading from a scroll she called off names one by one.

The students went up and put the hat on their heads and after a moment, the hat roared the House out to the students and their new House cheered. Sam and Dean waited with bated breath. They walked up to the head table and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting there.

“Welcome to Hogwarts Messrs Winchester,” He said warmly, shaking their hands.

“Thanks,” Sam said. 

“My pleasure. We have kept seats for you here and if it is alright, I will introduce you to the students during my speech.”

“That's fine with me,” Sam replied. Albus rose out of his chair then and walked over to a podium that had an owl on the front and candles on top of its wings.

“When do we eat…?” Dean whispered to Sam, noticing the empty plates in front of them. “Ow!” He complained as Sam elbowed him in the ribs.

“Very best of evenings to you all.” He addressed the students. “First off, let me introduce the newest members of our staff. Horace Slughorn,” He gestured to his left and a short man stood up. The students started clapping. “Professor Slughorn, I’m happy to say, has agreed to resume his old post as Potions Master. Meanwhile, the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts will be taken by Professor Snape.” No one from the teachers’ table stood up, so the brothers had no idea who he was. There was scattered clapping throughout the hall, mostly from the table to the far right of the room. One student even called out “Snape?” in outrage.

“Also, we will be adding a new subject to our class roster as we welcome our new friends from the States, Professors Sam and Dean Winchester.” He gestured to where the brothers were sitting. They both stood up and smiled at the students. “They will be teaching Demonology to third-year students and up to …”

No one spoke or clapped for them. “We got a better reception with the Campbells,” Dean whispered.

“Now Messrs Winchester, if you wouldn’t mind stepping forward, we will be sorting you into a house.”

Sam and Dean approached the podium and the sorting hat was brought back out. Dean was the first to sit on the small three-legged stool, his knees were almost level with his shoulders, and had the sorting hat put on. Two seconds later the hat roared “GRYFFINDOR!” The table that held the Gryffindor students erupted in applause. Sam approached the stool with wary apprehension. He hoped that he and his brother would stick together, but he was afraid that he wouldn’t be classified as brave, and there was no house for cowards. He held his breath as the hat was put over his head. It was dark inside the hat, but it didn’t stay that way for long. Memories from his past whizzed before his eyes. Azazel, the special children, demon blood, Ruby, Lucifer.

“Are you sure you belong with your brother in Gryffindor?” the hat’s voice drifted lazily through his head.

I want to stay with my brother, Sam thought in his mind.

“But all the things that you have seen, the things you have done, you look more suited to be with Slytherin. Or maybe Hufflepuff, you are a very loyal person regardless of where your loyalties lie. Or perhaps Ravenclaw, you are the bright one of the two of you. But if you are sure, then I’d say…”

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat roared again, and the Gryffindor table erupted in cheers again.

Dumbledore and the others clapped their hands and the brothers returned to their seats at the head table, he then cleared his throat and continued. 

“Now as you know each and every one of you was searched upon your arrival here tonight. And you have the right to know why. Once there was a young man who, like you, sat in this very hall, walked this castle’s corridors, and slept under its roof. He seemed to all the world a student like any other. His name? Tom Riddle.”

He took a brief pause to look at the students with sad eyes. A small murmur ran through the crowd, Sam and Dean didn’t understand their reaction to a simple name.

“Today, of course, he’s known all over the world by another name. Lord Voldemort. Which is why, as I stand looking out upon you all tonight, I’m reminded of a sobering fact. Every day, every hour this very minute, perhaps dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle’s walls. But in the end, their greatest weapon is you.”

Sam noticed a boy with platinum blonde hair sitting at the rightmost table shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He remembered his face from the train, he was bullying Harry.

“Just something to think about.” Dumbledore smiled grimly. “Let the feast begin.” The tables were magically filled with food and everyone dug in, though it wasn’t with much enthusiasm.

“Woah,” Dean grinned as he immediately began piling his plate with food. Sam rolled his eyes as he ate. The chatter was growing from the students.

“Dean, Sam?” Dumbledore asked. The Winchesters looked up. “I would like to introduce you to our staff if you like.”

“Yeah sure,” Sam smiled a little.

“Beside you is Severus Snape. He now teaches Defence Against the Dark Arts and is Head of Slytherin House,” he said looking at a man in black robes, greasy black hair and black eyes with a hooked nose. He did not look up. “You know Minerva of course, and this is Pomona Sprout, Herbology Professor and is Head of Hufflepuff House,” he explained. “And this is Filius Flitwick, the Head of Ravenclaw House.” He introduced all the other staff, and they smiled at them. 

They finished quickly and dessert was served. Dean grabbed the first piece of pie he could while Sam chose chocolate fudge cake. He savoured the taste of the sweet chocolate. The food seemed to taste even better than it did at home and Sam wondered if there was some magical extra ingredient in it. When it was over, Dumbledore stood again and the food disappeared, leaving the plates pristine.

“Now that we are all fed and watered, I hope everyone will rest well for tomorrow's lessons. I shall finish with a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

Sam and Dean looked at each other in bewilderment as there was no other explanation to go along with his words.  Was it a spell, some ancient farewell, or just the crazy rantings of a senile old man? The students rose to leave. The brothers stood, wondering if they would find their rooms before morning.

“Will I show you to your rooms?” a woman they recognized as Professor Trelawney asked.

“Yeah that'd be great, thanks,” Sam said.

“This way,” she said. They left the Great Hall and walked through a maze of corridors and eventually ended up in front of a statue.

“Toffee Éclairs,” she said. Sam raised an eyebrow as the statue moved. She brought them up the stairs that had been revealed, and they stopped outside a door.

“This door contains your rooms. You will have your own rooms, but a door will connect them for convenience,” she said.

“Thank you,” Sam said. Dean nodded. They both went inside the doors and separated into their rooms. It was a little hard for them to get to sleep that night, even though they were so exhausted. They were used to sleeping in the same room, and it was a little strange at first. Neither one used to having their own room before. Both brothers fell into a peaceful sleep, though Sam did get up once to open the adjoining door to Dean’s room. It didn’t make much sense, but it made him feel better.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 6 ^th August 2011

The office was quiet, not a sound to be heard. Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk. He looked at his blackened, shrivelled hand. The pieces of his plan were starting to settle into place. Almost everyone knew of their mission. Albus was deep in thought. Possible pathways Voldemort could take shot through his mind. His gaze travelled to the broken ring on a table a few feet from him. It was a Horcrux. He knew that much. But he needed to know everything. Harry needed to know everything. It was vital everyone's lives depended on it. Both magical and Muggle.

He had little time to put his plan into action. A year at most, was what Severus told him before the curse would kill him. Severus was aware of his role, the Unbreakable Vow he made with Narcissa binding him to help Draco to please Voldemort. In this case, it was to kill him. Harry was the only one that could take over the hunt after he was gone, but he needed the information first before he could track down the rest. As far as he was concerned, the diary and the ring were both destroyed. There were two more, Helga Hufflepuff’s cup and Salazar Slytherin’s locket. It was a memory he gained from Hepzibah Smith’s house-elf, Hokey, that suggested Voldemort stole heirlooms. More research was needed. But would they have enough time? 

Hopefully, Horace would reveal the true extent of the conversation. All he revealed seemed fuzzy. There was definitely more to his memories. How many Horcruxes had Voldemort created? There were more than one for definite, the ring was enough evidence of that.  He thought of the classes he was going to assign to Harry during the year. He needed to know more about Voldemort, his origins. How Tom Riddle fell into the depths of the Dark Arts and became less than human. So much to do…

A quiet knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

“Come in,” Albus smiled pleasantly as he pulled a toffee from the small glass bowl beside him. The door opened with a quiet creak and Severus walked in. 

“Dumbledore, I have news,” Severus spoke. His posture was stiff. Severus approached the headmaster.

“The Dark Lord is planning an attack within the year. He is rallying his forces, going back to his plan last year. Recruit everyone he can to his side.”

“I was fearful of that,” Albus said calmly. “It is only logical that he would try again. He may try and recruit more creatures. There have been rumoured sightings of Wraiths and Rugaru in the country recently.”

“What?” Severus asked incredulously. 

“There are more creatures out there than you are aware,” Albus explained simply. “Things you cannot imagine. I fear Voldemort is trying to recruit these creatures for his army. By what you have just told me, it seems likely.”

“What do we do?” Severus asked. “If these creatures turn to the Dark Lord’s side, how will we stop him?”

“I have a plan. There are those out there that hunt these creatures. There are two of these hunters, known as the Winchesters. They are legendary amongst their profession. I am travelling to them soon. I am forming a new core subject: Demonology. My hope is for Sam and Dean to teach the students how to protect themselves in the very possible eventuality that Voldemort uses these creatures to his advantage.”

“You are planning to bring Muggles to Hogwarts?” Severus asked with a shocked expression.

“Muggle or not, they are experts. And good people, I’ve heard.”

“This is insanity.”

“Would you rather the students be unable to defend themselves?” Albus asked simply. Severus flinched. He continued as if nothing had happened.“Severus, it is vital you remain ignorant when I announce this. There will be an Order meeting if the brothers agree, to announce the class. This conversation never occurred.” Severus nodded in understanding. It was his place as an advisor to both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord.

“You must also feed this information to Voldemort,” Albus told him.

“That would be setting ourselves for defeat!” Severus replied angrily.

“It may seem that way, but it is for your protection. How do you think Voldemort would react in three months if you were to not inform him of Muggle hunters that have come to work against him? He would start to question your loyalty.”

“I understand,” Severus cut him off sharply. “I must be getting back, Dumbledore.”

“Indeed, safe travels Severus.” He turned to leave. “Oh, and Severus?” he looked back to see Albus smile. “Thank you.”

Severus left without another word.

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England, 24 ^th August 2010

The two men appeared out of nowhere, a few yards apart in the narrow, moonlit lane. For a second they stood quite still, wands directed at each other’s chests; then, recognizing each other, they stowed their wands beneath their cloaks and started walking briskly in the same direction.  The lane was bordered on the left by wild, low-growing brambles, on the right by a high, neatly manicured hedge. The men's long cloaks flapped around their ankles as they marched.

They turned right, into a wide driveway that led off the lane. A wrought-iron gate impeded their progress. Neither of them broke stride as they marched toward the gate. In silence, both raised their left arms in a salute and passed straight through, as though the dark metal was made of smoke. Severus and Yaxley moved forward with an air of trepidation. A handsome manor house grew out of the darkness at the end of the straight drive. Severus and Yaxley sped toward the front door, which swung inward at their approach, though nobody had visibly opened it.

The hallway was large, dimly lit, and sumptuously decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of the stone floor. The eyes of the pale-faced portraits on the wall followed Severus and Yaxley as they strode past. The two men halted at a heavy wooden door leading into the next room, hesitated for the space of a heartbeat, then Severus turned the bronze handle.

The drawing-room was full of silent people, sitting at a long and ornate table. The room's usual furniture had been pushed carelessly up against the walls. Illumination came from a roaring fire beneath a handsome marble mantelpiece surmounted by a gilded mirror. Severus and Yaxley lingered for a moment on the threshold. Their eyes were drawn upward to the strangest feature of the scene: an apparently unconscious human figure hanging upside down over the table, revolving slowly as if suspended by an invisible rope and reflected in the mirror and the bare, polished surface of the table below. None of the people seated underneath this singular sight were looking at it except for a pale young man sitting almost directly below it. He seemed unable to prevent himself from glancing upward every minute or so.

“Yaxley. Snape,” said a high, clear voice from the head of the table. The speaker’s frame was silhouetted by the ominous glow from the fireplace. The two men had to get closer to make out smaller, snakelike details: the smooth hairless head, slits for nostrils, gleaming red eyes with vertical pupils, and skin that was so pale that he seemed to glow in the faint light. Lord Voldemort smiled; it was more of a cruel scowl.

“Severus sit here.” He said, indicating the seat to his immediate right. “Yaxley, sit beside Dolohov.” 

They took their places as instructed. Yaxley was not very happy about it though, muttering something about being ‘the master’s favourite’. Severus moved to his chair and made no notice of Yaxley’s displeasure. Except for Draco Malfoy, who was looking at his hands, everyone around the table looked to Severus. Voldemort spoke first

“So?”

“There are new additions to the staffing at Hogwarts,” Severus said. 

“If you are referring to that idiot Slughorn, I am aware of it.” Voldemort dismissed him.

“No my Lord, there is a whole new subject being introduced this year, it’s mandatory to all students in the third year and above: Demonology.”

An uneasy murmur ran through the group, demons were not ones to be trifled with. Voldemort leaned closer to Severus. “Go on Severus.” 

“The Headmaster has summoned two Muggle demon-hunting brothers from the United States to teach this new subject, the Winchesters. They have a very sordid past, murders, and arrests, to name a few. The headmaster wasn’t very forthcoming with information on them.”

“Well, well, this is an interesting development,” Voldemort replied. “I have doubled my efforts to round up creatures that may give these brothers a challenge, and I am continuing to recruit. If Dumbledore is going to bring in more firepower, so should we.”

“And it looks like you need my help.” A voice rang through the hall. The group looked all around for the source of the voice. He had been lurking, invisible for quite some time, and in the past few moments, rage brewing. His hellhound had been circling the group, trying to find the weakest among them to start the carnage. It lingered on the stench of fear coming from a platinum blonde boy. The Winchesters, why in the bloody hell was it always them?! He took a calming breath and snapped his fingers.

“Hello,” said a tall stranger from beside Voldemort’s chair. They all turned to see a tall dark-haired man smirking at them. One of the wizards tried to draw their wand but with a flick of his hand, the wizard was sent flying and was pinned to the wall. “Oh, come now, those won’t be necessary. As I said earlier, I am here to help you with the Potter situation. I think we can help each other.” 

“What could you possibly do?” Voldemort replied. “Who are you?”

“Name's Crowley. Former King of the Crossroads, now, King of Hell,” Crowley replied with a smile. A large growl ripped through the air and several Death Eaters jumped, Crowley resisted the urge to smile at their reaction.

“My Hellhound. Nice huh?” Crowley grinned. “Sit!” he commanded, and the growling stopped. The boy sat still by his mother’s side, but his eyes betrayed his fear.

“As I was saying, you can help me kill the pesky rodents that the Winchesters are, and I can help with that Potter kid you want dead too,” Crowley noted.

“Why would you do that?” Voldemort replied in nothing but a snarl, detesting the arrival of a lesser being than he in his private meeting. The man looked to be easily dealt with, though the invisible beast he brought with him and how easily he pinned Dolohov certainly posed a problem. 

“Relax. Just a simple proposition. I will help you kill the Potter kid if you help me with a plan of my own.”

“What kind of plan?” Voldemort coldly said. He hid his interest in the demon’s proposition. There was an advantage of having demonic forces as allies better than enemies. But if the old man has brought in hunters from America…

“I want to break open Purgatory. It holds all the monsters that have been killed. Vampires, Rugarus, Shapeshifters, Leviathan, Wendigos, the lot. I want their souls, so I can harvest their powers to fight our wars. I've acquired an Angel friend of the Winchesters that I am sharing my army with, so he can fight his side. Not only that, but I'll give you 1,500 souls to fight along with your army and to take over,” Crowley explained. “Things even the Winchesters haven’t seen before.”

“I assume you want something in return,” The Dark Lord drolled, musing now. What could this vermin want from him in exchange for his help?

“Just the Winchesters dead, everything will fall into place.”

“Yes,” Voldemort said, and his followers looked at him in shock.

“Master, you mustn't team up with this- this- thing,” Bellatrix Lestrange exclaimed in outrage, getting to her feet and pointing her crooked wand at Crowley. The demon just smirked and blew her a kiss after winking at her. She was about to hit him with a curse but Voldemort looked up at her with a cold stare.

“Silence Bella,” Voldemort said with no emotion.

“It's a deal,” Crowley said as he and the man disappeared.

“My Lord,” said a dark woman halfway down the table, her voice constricted with emotion, “you must not do this.” She sat beside her sister, as unlike her in looks, with her dark hair and heavily lidded eyes, as she was in bearing and demeanour; where Narcissa sat rigid and impassive. Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, for mere words could not demonstrate her longing for closeness.

“Bellatrix, I hear an event has taken place in your family this week?” Voldemort was furious with her for threatening his alliance with the demon, he decided she needed to be reminded of her place. She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused.

“I don't know what you mean, my Lord.”

“I'm talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She is becoming close to the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud; after all, in the future, there might be pups,” Voldemort sneered. There was an eruption of laughter from around the table. Bellatrix's face, so recently flushed with happiness, turned an ugly, blotchy red.

“She is no niece of ours, my Lord,” she cried over the outpouring of mirth. “We, Narcissa and I, have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with either of us nor any beast she is involved with.” 

“Enough,” said Voldemort, an angry-sounding hiss grew louder and a large snake coiled around the chair Voldemort was sitting in. He looked over to it as the snake came up to his eye level, he stroked it lovingly. “Enough.” The laughter died at once.

“Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time,” he decided that was punishment enough as Bellatrix gazed at him, breathless and imploring, “You must prune yours, must you not, to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest. It is exactly why Potter and the Muggles must perish. They are a disgrace to us.”

“Yes, my Lord,” whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude again. “At the first chance!”

“You shall have it,” said Voldemort. “And in your family, so in the world … we shall cut away the cancer that infects us until only those of the true blood remain …” Voldemort raised his wand and gave it a tiny flick. The figure that had been floating quietly above them came to life with a groan. “Do you recognize our guest, Severus?” asked Voldemort, with a sneer on his face. Severus raised his eyes to the upside-down face. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman spoke in a cracked and terrified voice. 

“Severus! Help me!”

“Ah, yes,” said Severus coldly as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

“And you, Draco?” asked Voldemort, stroking Nagini's head with his wand-free hand. Draco shook his head jerkily, trying to hide the pure terror that he felt. Fear of his father’s wrath if he misspoke or brought more shame to the family name. Fear of the beast who came in with the demon that Draco swore was right behind him when it growled. Most importantly, he feared the man at the head of the table who addressed him for the first time since the meeting began.

“But would you not have taken her classes?” said Voldemort coldly. Draco wanted to look away from his father’s master but couldn’t. An image of a mouse caught in a snake’s grip entered his consciousness. Every cell in his body wanted to run from the room and never look back. 

Voldemort mercifully looked away from Draco after the boy didn’t answer the others around the table. “For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Murmurs of disgust echoed down the table.

“Yes … Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles … how they are not so different from us …” One of the Death Eaters spat on the floor. Charity Burbage revolved to face Severus again.

“Severus … please … please …”

“Silence,” said Voldemort. There was no mistaking the anger and contempt in Voldemort's voice. For the third time, Charity Burbage revolved to face Severus. Tears were pouring from her eyes into her hair. Severus looked back at her, quite impassive, as she turned slowly away from him again.

“Avada Kedavra” The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity fell, with a resounding crash, onto the table below, which trembled and creaked. Several of the Death Eaters leapt back in their chairs. Draco fell out of his, onto the floor.

“Dinner, Nagini,” said Voldemort softly. “As for the Winchesters and Potter. They will die. We let the Winchesters live, for the time being… Let them try…”

⸸

“You’re still helping the Winchesters. You hid it from me,” Crowley accused. Both Angel and demon were standing in some run-down warehouse in the middle of Kansas somewhere.

“It was unavoidable,” Castiel replied. Crowley rounded on him.

“You screwed up, Cas. That’s a crock of shit, and you know it. You should have stopped them from playing wizards. We need Voldemort on our side. And besides, Eve is out there. We can get to Purgatory through her.”

“What is your point?” the Angel interrupted.

“The point is…You're distracted, and that makes me nervous,” Crowley said with a small air of unease.

“I am holding up my end,” Castiel insisted, glaring at the demon’s half-assed excuse.

“Ah, yes. But is that all you're holding? See…the stench of those two are all over your overcoat, Angel. I thought we'd agreed — no more nights out with the boys,” Crowley chided. He was not stupid. He knew how much the Angel hung around with the Winchester brothers. Castiel was becoming more of a liability as time passed.

“I spoke with Dean. I needed to know how much they know.”

“About what? About me, maybe? Forgive me, but I think you might have a little conflict of interest here,” Crowley snapped. “In case you’ve forgotten, they think I’m dead. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Crowley had a point, of course. Castiel’s interest was conflicted. He still considered himself the Winchesters' guardian. After all, they taught him how to stand up… what to stand for… and what generally happens when you do.  Castiel remembered the fight with Lucifer, being exploded into tiny chunks. He was…done. He was over. And then the most extraordinary thing happened. He was put back together. His second chance. And they had won. They had stopped Armageddon. But at the terrible cost of losing Sam Winchester.

Castiel didn’t like the young man at first. He believed that Samuel was the man fated to bring on the Apocalypse. To his surprise, he found that Sam was kinder than he thought and cared about his brother more than anything else. Sam had made mistakes, and other Angels would surely have hated him for them, but Castiel came to realize that humans made mistakes.  He watched as Dean tried to live a normal life after his brother’s death, as he instructed him to, but the toll proved to be too great a price for him to pay. 

Castiel knew what he had to do next. Once again, he went to the depths of Hell, to free Sam from Lucifer's Cage. The first time had been bad enough when he got the command from his Father to rescue Dean's soul before the breaking of the First Seal. Of course, he was too late, and Dean had given in to Alastair's torture. It was nearly impossible to rescue Sam, but he was so full of confidence, of the mission. He saw now that was arrogance… Because, of course, he hadn't truly raised Sam, not all of him. Just his body. He left his soul to rot with Michael and Lucifer. Dean was very angry with him, but he didn’t understand the fragility of the soul… how… damaged it felt when he touched it…

“Please. I'm begging you, Castiel. Just kill the Winchesters,” Crowley interrupted Castiel's thoughts. “It’ll make things a whole lot easier. Having these wizards on our side will be an advantage.”

“No,” Castiel replied in a hard voice. Not after everything I have done to keep them alive. He added in his head.

“Fine. Then I'll do it myself.” he shrugged.

“If you kill them, I'll just bring them back again,” Castiel said determinedly. He wondered idly how much time Crowley would waste on the pointless exercise. 

“No, you won't. Not where I'll put 'em. Trust me,” the King of Hell replied, confident that the Angel wouldn’t want to play games with him.

“I said… No. Don't worry about them,” Castiel insisted.

“Don't worry? Like Lucifer didn't worry? Or Michael? Or Lilith or Alastair or Azazel didn't worry?! Am I the only game piece on the board who doesn't underestimate those denim-wrapped nightmares?!” Crowley exclaimed. 

“Just find Purgatory. If you don't, we will both die again and again, until the end of time. The Winchesters won't get to you,” Castiel assured. “They are busy.” Out of the way….

“Working against me! Let them get to me! I'll tear their friggin' hearts out!” Crowley exploded. “You don't think I know what this is all about?” He added flippantly.

“Enlighten me,” the Angel replied, emotionless.

“The big lie. The Winchesters still buy it,” Crowley mused. “The good Cas, the righteous Cas. And, as long as they still believe it, you get to believe it. Well, I got news for you, kitten. A whore is a whore is a whore.”

Cas slammed Crowley against the filthy wall, glowing blue eyes glaring into the demon’s, which turned red from anger.  The room was deadly quiet for a moment as the two beings measured each other’s strength.

“I'm only gonna say this once. If you touch a hair on their heads, I will tear it all down. Our arrangement - everything. I'm still an Angel, and I will bury you.” he snarled.

“This is NOT how synergy works!” Crowley yelled.

“I don't care! Do not hurt them,” Castiel repeated his warning, his voice just as aggressive as the first time he said it. His eyes seemed to glow white with anger. The emotion of protectiveness was growing. He let the demon go, and with a flutter of invisible wings, the Angel was gone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 2 ^nd September 2011

“I got a message that we have to be at Albus's office,” Sam told his brother.

Dean frowned. “Classes haven’t started yet, are we already in trouble? Why does the big man want to see us?” he asked as they walked down the halls.

“I don’t know, Jess just flew into the window this morning with a note saying to come to Albus’s office and the words ‘Sherbet Lemon’ were written underneath it.”

“Sherbet Lemon? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know Dean. Maybe we need it for some reason.”

“Whatever man, I just know that if we are in trouble for something, I’m blaming it on you.”

They walked down the halls using the instructions that were on the slip of paper from Jess. They finally reached a golden statue of an eagle with its wings forming a halo. There was a path to the right and the left of the statue. Sam looked down at the paper and then looked down both paths and looked at the paper again.

“Come on Sherlock, where do we go next?” Dean asked in an irritated tone.

“I don’t know man, it doesn’t say.” Sam scrutinized the paper again.

“Come on.” Dean looked at his brother sceptically. “Let me see it.”

Sam handed it to Dean with an aggravated sigh. “If you can figure it out, then be my guest.”

Dean mumbled to himself as he read the note. “… When you come to the bronze eagle, walk up the staircase.” He looked around. “Where is the staircase?”

“That’s what I would like to know.”

“Man, I’m really starting to hate these wizards. Everything has to be in code or riddles.”

“A code?” Sam repeated his brother’s words. Just out of curiosity he approached the statue, stepped inside and said, “Sherbet Lemon.”

The floors started to shake and then the bronze eagle started to turn, and stairs began to form beneath Sam’s feet. At the top of the staircase was a large wooden door with several carvings in it.

“I wonder if this door needs a password too,” Dean asked sarcastically. “Open Sesame!” He waved his hands dramatically.

The door didn’t budge. Sam sighed as he went to try the knob and the door swung inward.

“What?” Dean followed him inside. “If you can use Sherbet Lemon to make a magical staircase appear then it is perfectly within my rights to use Open Sesame on a door!”

They looked around the room. No one seemed to be in there, so they started to snoop.

“It looks like some pretty expensive things in here,” Sam commented. “Why would they leave the door to a room like this unlocked?” He saw a vat of swirling liquid that was glowing and walked over to it.

“Isn’t it obvious Sammy?” Dean smirked eyeing a bowl of black liquorice sitting on one of the tables. “They don’t need locks and keys when they have awesome riddles and passwords like ‘Sherbet Lemon’.” Just as he went to grab some liquorice, they sprang to life and started biting his hand.

“Fuck, ow! What the hell man?” Dean pulled back his hand, and it was covered with tiny bite marks.

“Oh, I forgot to warn you about those Liquorice Snaps.” A voice called to them. “They have a bite to them.”

Sam and Dean turned to see Albus sitting at his desk.

“Yeah, no kidding….” Dean frowned.

“We’re sorry Professor.” Sam walked up the stairs. “The door was open and….”

Albus put up a hand to stop him. “It’s quite alright Sam. A healthy dose of curiosity never hurt anyone.”

“Obviously, you’ve never heard the phrase ‘curiosity kills the cat’.” Dean laughed.

“Dean.” Sam chided him quietly. “He’s our boss.”

“Oh, Dean was only having some fun.” Albus rose from his chair and walked over to the boys. “I don’t mind in the slightest.”

“You have a very interesting office if you don’t mind me saying so.” Sam went back to admiring the vat of glowing liquid.

“Thank you very much, though it’s not all mine, several of these pieces were put in by the headmasters before me. But that there,” Albus said pointing to the object of Sam’s stare. “Is one of my most prized possessions.”

“What is it?” Dean became interested in the vat himself. He resisted the urge to poke the liquid with his fingers to see if it felt as cool as it looked.

“It’s called a Pensieve. I sometimes find that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind. I’m sure you know the feeling.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Dean sighed. “So, what does it do?”

“It’s a magical instrument used to view memories. You just have to remember a certain memory and then…” He pulled out his wand and put it to his temple. Sam and Dean watched wide-eyed as his wand tip illuminated and, almost as if a glowing string was attached to it, it detached from his temple and hung loosely from the wand.

“That’s so gross.” Dean grimaced.

“This is what a memory looks like.” Albus held up the glowing wispy string for them both to see. “Then you simply drop the memory into the Pensieve.”

He tapped the wand over the top of the Pensive and the string detached itself from the wand and dropped into the swirling liquid.

“Then you just lean over the pensive, and you can view the memory.” Sam leaned over the Pensieve intrigued by it, forcing Dean to join him, who didn’t want to get near brain juices. They couldn’t see anything, so they looked back at Albus, but he wasn’t there.

“Where’d he go?” Dean looked around alarmed. Other than Albus disappearing, the room looked undisturbed. 

“I don’t know.” Sam looked towards the door, and he was shocked to see himself stepping through the door.

“What?” Dean followed him inside. “If you can use Sherbet Lemon to make a magical staircase appear then it is perfectly within my rights to use Open Sesame on a door!”

“Sam? What am I looking at?” Dean’s voice raised in pitch as he watched himself walking across the room. “This is trippy man….”

“Maybe this is what Albus saw when we came in.”

 “Isn’t it obvious Sammy? They don’t need locks and keys when they have awesome riddles and passwords like ‘Sherbet Lemon’.”

“Oh, no! Man don’t do it!” Dean tried to stop himself from getting bitten, but he just phased through himself.

“What the-” Dean looked down, and he was stuck in the middle of the table. “It’s like we're ghosts or something.”

“Ow! What the hell man?”

Then their vision went blurry, and they came back to the present, Albus smiled at them.

“That’s amazing!” Sam said with a smile spreading across his face. “That would be amazing to use in our class. It’s hard to explain   things we have seen without showing the students what they look like.”

“I think it’s kind of creepy myself,” Dean commented. “But it would be useful.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a spare lying around somewhere?” Sam asked.

“Unfortunately, I do not, but I could let you borrow this one. I will send it to the Demonology classroom in a moment. I will need it back in the evenings though,” Albus patted Sam on the shoulder.

“Thank you,” Sam smiled.

“So, Headmaster, what did you want to talk to us about?” Dean asked.

“What are you talking about Dean?”

“The note?” Dean pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to Albus. “Our owl brought this note to us. Didn’t you see it?”

“Hmm.” Albus pondered over the small piece of paper. “I’m sorry, but this seems to be a mistake. I didn’t send this letter to you; I think someone is playing a practical joke on you.” He chuckled as he handed the paper back to them.

“Of course, sir, we have to go,” Sam bowed his head as he walked to the door.

“Catch ya later Merlin!” Dean winked and clicked his tongue. They walked out.

“Good luck on your first day!” They heard Albus call after them.

“Well, that was just weird.” Dean stuck his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Tell me about it,” Sam replied. “And stop clowning around…. We’re teachers now, we have to act like it.”

Around two hours passed. Sam and Dean ate breakfast in the Great Hall without much drama. The schedules were handed out by each Head of House as they got up to leave. 

“So, we're teaching about Wendigos?” Dean asked. Sam nodded.

“Yeah, we have the sixth-years first,” Sam said, looking at a piece of parchment. “I think we should show them the memory of our last hunt with one,” Sam said. Dean whistled.

“Our last hunt with one was when we were looking for Dad,” the elder Winchester answered.

“I know. I think it's better if they see for themselves,” Sam pointed out. They walked up the moving staircases. “The classroom is on the second floor, along with Muggle Studies.” Dean snorted in amusement. They went inside and waited. Soon, the students began to file in and sit down.

Some were wearing red and black robes, some green, and black. The chatter stopped immediately as they walked to the top of the class. Sam and Dean noticed that the Pensieve lay at the front of the large room.

“Shut it,” Dean said easily, causing the few that were muttering to quieten, he smirked. 

“As you all know, this is Demonology. Here, you'll study things that would make your skin crawl. You'll train to fight these creatures, how to kill them, and most importantly, how to stay alive,” Sam began. He noticed that all eyes were locked on him. 

“This class is no joke. This is serious, life or death is the price you'll pay. If you screw up, someone could die. You have to keep focused. Believe you me, you'll see Voldemort-” the class flinched. “-as a cakewalk compared to what you're all going to learn in this class.”

“Take it, easy Dean,” Sam cautioned. “Rein it in a bit.”

“They gotta know,” Dean shrugged, he cleared his throat before addressing the class again.

“Kay, today, we're going to be studying Wendigos. Anyone know what that is?”  A hand shot up, and he recognized Hermione Granger from the Order meeting.

“Name?” Sam asked, out of formality.

“Hermione Granger sir,” she answered. 

“Okay, what's a Wendigo then?” Sam asked.

“A Wendigo is a creature that was once human but was transformed into an immortal evil spirit when it took up the practice of cannibalism.,” she answered.

“Exactly.” Sam nodded.

The students started murmuring to themselves. “Cannibalism…?” one of them questioned quietly.

“Wendigos used to be humans who turned to cannibalism and eventually turned into a supernatural creature because of it.” Dean continued. Many students looked slightly revolted. 

“Take out your books everyone and go to page 173,” he said, and everyone got their books opened as the ruffling of material and swishing of paper sounded through the room.

Sam opened Supernatural Beasts and Defence. He rifled through it and found the chapter on Wendigos.

“Wendigos are believed to live in the northern woods of Minnesota and in the north-central regions of Canada. Kenora, Ontario, Canada, has been given the title of Wendigo Capital of the World by many. Sightings of the creature in this area have continued well into the new millennium.

Wendigos are generally rumoured to be gigantic spirits, over fifteen feet tall, lanky and with glowing eyes, long yellowed fangs, terrible claws and overly long tongues. Sometimes they are said to have a sallow, yellowish skin; other times they are described as being matted with hair. The Wendigo's full powers have never been recorded. The creature excels at stealth and is a near-perfect hunter, knowing and using every inch of its territory — caves, hills, trees, and bushes. Some stories say that Wendigos can control the weather through the use of dark magic,” he read. 

“Wendigos are powerful sons of b-” Dean began, but Sam gave him a sharp look.

“As my brother so politely put it, Wendigos are powerful. They have supernatural strength, speed, and are immortal. They have claws, and can imitate human voices to lure people in,” Sam explained. He continued on, writing down notes on the chalkboard. The student’s followed, scribbling on parchment dutifully.

The students were sitting uncomfortably, reading along with the brothers, the only other sounds to be heard were the frantic scribbling of the students trying to transcribe every word that Dean and Sam were saying.

“Now we think that the best way for you to learn about them is to experience an attack first-hand.” Dean continued.

The pale blond kid from the train raised his hand.

“Yes?” Sam asked.

“If these things come from your country, then how are we supposed to see one in person? And isn’t it dangerous to ‘experience an attack first-hand.’?” he sneered. Dean was about to tell the kid off, but Sam restrained him. “Little spoiled rich….” Dean muttered under his breath.

“Um….” Sam pretended to look for Malfoy’s name, again out of formality. “Mr Malfoy, to answer your question, the headmaster has allowed us to borrow a Pensieve. Also, monsters live all over the world. Not just America, they’re just seen more often in our country.”

The students started whispering amongst themselves one look from Dean silenced them all.

“A Pensieve allows us to show you memories from our pasts, showing you all the things that we will be discussing without anyone getting harmed by the thing itself.”

“Sam, I think your memory of the Wendigo is better than mine, I came in at the tail end, so why don’t we use your memory of it?”

“Alright, that’s OK with me.” Sam addressed the students. “This will take some time to set up, so read the rest of the chapter about Wendigo’s while we get things started.”

They started reading and Sam pulled out his wand.

“Well, here goes nothing.” Sam put the wand up to his temple, concentrated on the memory of the Wendigo, and started pulling the wand away from his temple.

“That’s still gross,” Dean commented as Sam stared in amazement.

“Shut up, you just wanted me to go first because you are afraid of it.”

“Yea, well, it’s…” Dean couldn’t come up with a good reason, so he just let it drop. “Oh, forget it, just get that oversized glow-worm into the pot and get to cookin’ already.”

With a few more minutes all the students had finished the chapter and were looking at Sam and Dean expectantly.

“OK, I’m going to give you guys a set-up for the memory that we are about to show you.” Sam addressed them. “A man went missing, and we went to investigate.”

“That’s the first rule of hunting, get intel and check the facts,” Dean interrupted.

Sam just looked at Dean without continuing.

“What?” Then it dawned on Dean, “Oh I’m sorry, was I interrupting your boring narrative?”

A few of the students giggled quietly. Sam frowned and continued. “The second thing about hunting is letting your source of information do the asking first. For instance, in this particular case, we pretended to be hikers planning a trip into Blackwater Ridge.”

“Ties into the third rule: Lie,” Dean smirked. “It comes with the territory of the job to tell white lies now and then. But we were caught in our lie, sometimes that happens, but sometimes it’s a good thing because it leads us to who we need to talk to.”

“We asked about the man that went missing. He told us that he would be due home in a few days, so it wasn’t technically a missing person’s report yet.” Dean said.

“So, we talked to the girl, to get more information. We told her that we were with Park Services and that we wanted to ask her some questions.”

Dean took over again. “Another occupational hazard is the fact that you have to make a lot of fake I.D.’s”

“We tried to explain it in human terms like he just simply forgot to check in, but she shot them all down.”

“Part four is collecting information and looking for patterns. We found out two other hikers had gone missing. In some cases, you have to go back further in the history of the place to find a pattern. We found out that this particular culprit attacks every twenty-three years, like clockwork.”

“We came across the lone survivor of one of these attacks. When we approached him about it, he was wary, but we got him to trust us. He said that it moved too fast to identify it. It came at night, unlocked the door to his cabin and killed his parents, dragging them off into the night.”

“He also showed us the parting gift that the creature gave him.” Dean’s face turned grim. “He had three long scars running from his neck down into his chest.”

The student’s faces contorted with uneasiness.

“We thought at first that it could have been a Skinwalker or a black dog, both of which we will be discussing later.”

“So now we move to step five: hunting.” Sam began again. “We gathered our guns, fresh with everything from silver and iron bullets, down to rock salt shells. We met up with the girl, her other brother, and a guide that she hired.”

“Yea, and what a brilliant idea that turned out to be,” Dean muttered.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Eventually we found the missing man’s campsite. It was torn apart and blood was everywhere. The guide automatically classified it as a grizzly attack. I spotted a clue that the others didn’t see; that the bodies were dragged away from the campsite, ruling out Skinwalkers and black dogs.”

Dean picked up the story. “Then a voice called out, luring us away from the camp-site where all the other’s gear was stashed. We couldn’t find anything and went back to find that the gear was missing. It wanted us to be cut off so that we couldn’t call for help.”

“I looked at our Dad’s journal again,” Sam continued. “I found what I was looking for.” He pulled out the book in question and flipped to the dog-eared page. “‘Wendigos are known to have large claws, big enough to leave the scars on our only eyewitness, and it can mimic a human voice,’ like it did to lure us away from camp, and they are perfect hunters good by day, unbelievable by night.”

“So, we move to step six: protection. There are several ways to protect yourself other than using a gun.” Dean remarked. “Things such as signs and symbols ward off certain supernatural beings; in this case, it was Anasazi symbols. Wendigo’s can’t cross over them.”

“So now that you have the backstory we are going to proceed into the memory. Everyone, get into a single file line and follow me into the Pensieve, Dean is going to be the last one in, so we can make sure that everyone makes it in OK.”

The students approached the front of the classroom and formed a single file line. Sam leaned over into the Pensieve and disappeared, and the other students followed accordingly. Malfoy and his cronies were the last to go in, followed closely behind by Dean.

The next thing Dean knew he was back in Blackwater, except this time there were two Dean’s, two Sam’s and a whole group of sixth-year students. What could possibly go wrong? He thought to himself.

“Now please remember that this is a memory, we are more like ghosts in this place, no one can see you or hear you. So, don’t be afraid, nothing is going to hurt you.” Sam reassured them.

Sam and the young boy were searching for the trail that would take them to the Wendigo’s lair. They found a trail of peanut M&M’s that they thought Dean had left behind for them to follow. And they eventually found it: an abandoned mine.

Sam shined a torch ahead of them. From the depths of the mine, the Wendigo’s growl could be heard. Sam pulled the boy against the wall and covered his mouth before he could scream. The Wendigo turned down a different tunnel, and they kept going down the tunnel that it had come from. There was a weak spot in the floorboards and the boys fell through the floor, landing in a pile of discarded bones. The young boy started to freak out and Sam tried to calm him down. Then they spotted Dean and the girl hanging by their wrists from the ceiling.

“Dean!” Sam rushed to his brother.

“Haley, wake up!” the boy went to untie his sister.

“Dean!” Sam started to shake him, and he slowly opened his eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied.

“Haley, Haley wake up!” The boy tried again to get his sister to wake up.

Eventually, they get them down and put them on the ground.

“You sure you’re alright?” Sam noticed that Dean was making painful noises and contorting his face in pain.

“Yeah. Where is he?” Dean asked.

“He’s gone for now.”

Haley noticed her older brother hanging and started crying. They desperately tried to wake him up and cut him down. He eventually woke up but was very weak. Dean spotted the stolen supplies and picked up some flare guns.

“Those’ll work,” Sam commented as Dean tossed him one.

They headed down the tunnel towards the exit, Dean and Sam in the lead with the flare guns and the girl with her brother’s in the back. The Wendigo’s growling sounded through the air.

“Looks like someone’s home for supper,” Dean remarked.

“We’ll never outrun it.” The girl said, looking to her older brother who was limping and leaning on his siblings for support.

Dean looked at the siblings, then at Sam. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Alright listen to me. Stay with Sam. He’s gonna get you out of here.” Dean told them.

“What are you going to do?” The girl asked him.

Dean winked at her, turned and started running and yelling. “Chow time, you freaky bastard!”

“Classy, as always, Dean,” Sam remarked.

“Thank you,” Dean smirked victoriously.

“All right come on! Hurry!” Sam led them down the tunnel. But soon they were confronted with the Wendigo’s growling. Sam pointed the gun at it and said, “Get him out of here!”

“Sam, no.” The girl insisted.

“Go! Go! Go!” He urged them.

They took off running towards the sunlight.

“Come on. Come on.” He muttered as he waited for the Wendigo to appear. He heard the growl again and turned to see the Wendigo right in his face. He shot it and missed, then ran towards the exit. He caught up with the others at the end of the tunnel with the Wendigo right behind them. “Get behind me.” He told the others.

The Wendigo approached them, taking its time. It didn’t see Dean come up from behind.

“Hey!” Dean yelled to get its attention. As it turned, Dean fired his flare gun at the Wendigo’s stomach, the flare went off and the Wendigo went up in flames. “Not bad, huh?” and he grinned.

The scene went blurry, and then they were back in the classroom, the students were gathered at the front of the classroom with an odd mixture of awe and shock on their faces.

“After that, we got the siblings back to the ranger’s station, and they called the police. We told the kids to lie to the police, otherwise, they would have been sent to the patty-wagon for being loons,” Dean told the group, attempting to use English slang.

“That pretty much sums it up.” Sam sighed. “I know it’s a lot to absorb in one sitting, but you get the idea that this stuff is serious.”

“And Wendigos are one of the easier things we have faced,” Dean remarked.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today.” Sam addressed the group. “For homework tonight, write down the six steps to finding a supernatural monster and how to spot a Wendigo from the patterns we described. Next class is on Thursday at 2 pm. Meet us on the Quidditch Pitch.”

“We are going to be training tomorrow,” Dean explained.

The whole class murmured in confusion and went back to their desks, except for Hermione, who smiled brightly and ran back to her desk as if she wanted to start this assignment straight away.

“She strikes me as your type Sammy,” Dean commented as she walked out with the rest of the class. “Nerdy and obnoxious.”

Sam cleared his throat and rolled his eyes at Dean. “I think as far as first classes go that was pretty good.” 

Dean sniffed and started putting away his stuff. “Wait till training day. Then it’s open season.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 2 ^nd September 2011

Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked down to the hallways to the Great Hall after classes. Ron and Harry were groaning about all the homework they were assigned on the first day. 

“Honestly, it’s not that bad. Especially Demonology. It’s just 6 points and a paragraph about Wendigos,” Hermione huffed. “They didn’t even mention how many inches it had to be.”

“I’d be surprised if half of Gryffindor isn’t up all night having nightmares about that bloody thing….” Ron mumbled to Harry. “That was bloody terrifying.”

“What was worse? The memory of a Wendigo, or Aragog?” Harry grinned as Ron blanched. He looked a little green under the freckles. “No spiders,” he mumbled incoherently.

Harry and Hermione smirked at each other as they sat down at their table. 

The three of them looked up to the staff table, like most of their other students, and saw the Winchester brother’s talking amongst themselves. After watching Sam’s memory of the hunt they wondered what they did in their spare times when they weren’t hunting. They hadn’t seen the brother’s once at the Order meeting but didn’t get to question them much, and classes were too public for them to interrogate them. 

“Maybe we should go to their office, ask about the assignment maybe?” Hermione whispered to Ron.

“You really want to stalk the Muggle Professors?” he asked incredulously. “I mean I know you like brown-nosing the teacher’s Hermione. This is taking it too far.” 

She hit him with a book. “Honestly Ronald. Are you not even the tiniest bit curious about them? What they’re like, how they’re handling all of this? It must be overwhelming.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “But they seem the type to be able to adapt well.”

Hermione looked down at her list of notes from the day, wondering when she could stop by the Winchester’s office. 

“What did you think of the class anyway?” Harry asked. 

“Sounds like a load of rubbish to me,” Ron grumbled through his mouthfuls of food. 

“Are their memories not enough proof?” Harry asked. Ron shrugged.

“I’m just saying that this just adds one more thing on the list of things that we have to do before we go to bed tonight.” 

“There are bigger problems in the world than your homework,” Hermione frowned.

“Oh give it a rest, you two,” interrupted Harry irritably.

“I found the lesson quite enjoyable,” Neville spoke up nervously. “I was terrified, but learned a lot.”

⸸

4 ^th September 2010

The boys woke up to a bright sunny day two days later on Thursday, the weather was quite warm by British standards. So the boys tried to soak up any sun they could, after some much helpful tips from Professor Sprout on where to go. 

In their first few days, they learned more about Hogwarts, mainly how confusing it was. It was a miracle they had directions to their classroom because the castle was enormous. They decided to explore, and they quickly got lost. Dean muttered about the damn staircase and wished he had a map. 

“This place is huge….” Dean mused as he and Sam walked around the corridors. “Echo!” he called and grinned when the sound bounced back. 

“Knock it off,” his brother frowned. “You act like a child, you know that?”

“What happened to the little boy in you?” he teased, mockingly acting offended, just to piss Sam off.

“We’re here to do a job, man,” Sam frowned.

“So, I can’t admire the architecture?” Dean asked incredulously. He looked to see Sam’s famous bitch face on full display “Fine…” he grumbled. “Shit, you’re moody today.”

Sam decided to change the subject as they turned a corner. “This place is interesting.”

“Yeah. It looks ancient.” Dean looked around at the stone walls surrounding them.

“Remember those ghosts the other day? Does it freak you out that they are just popping in and out of nowhere?”

Sam frowned. “It does. At least we know they’re good here.”

“I don’t know if they’re all good…” Dean said suspiciously, catching sight of what he realized was Peeves the Poltergeist. He was cackling, in the process of throwing glass vases from the balcony above.

“True,” Sam shrugged. “I wish Albus would take us up on the offer to waste him,” he muttered with a smirk.

Peeves apparently heard as he let out a shriek of mocking laughter and disappeared.

“He’s going to be a pain. I can tell,” Dean noted. After a moment, he spoke again. “How old do you think this place is?”

“I read in Hogwarts: A History that it’s over a thousand years old. The guys that set up the Houses opened the school. They did it to regulate the teaching of the kids because most were home-schooled at the time.” 

“Same reason they started mainstream teaching? Get a standard out?” Dean asked.

“Pretty much,” Sam shrugged. “Although I imagine it’s a lot more dangerous with these kids.” They kept walking through the corridors, going deeper into the castle.

“Okay, I give up. I’m completely lost,” Sam eventually spoke, frowning.

“Do you have a damn map in that fancy history book?” Dean asked pointedly.

“Not a very detailed one,” Sam frowned. “Plus, with the stairs changing, I’d say it’d be difficult to map it anyway.”

“Man, I wish GPS worked,” Dean frowned. He pulled out his phone hopefully again.

“Come on, we’ll find someone,” Sam said. They kept walking and a few minutes later, they finally met with  a student they recognized. Harry seemed to be lost in thought when they crossed paths.

Dean and Sam heard a few things about Harry since the Order meeting. The staff spoke of his politeness and bravery, mentioning his loyalty to his friends. Dean and Sam could well believe that, from hearing the young man’s story alone. He was very brave and stood by his friends. Seeing him now, they could tell he was down to earth, didn’t like all the fame and glory, like others who would bask in it. 

“Hey, Harry,” Dean called. 

“Hi Professor,” Harry said politely. “Everything okay?”

“Where the hell are we?” Dean asked. Sam awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at something as trivial as getting lost.

“It’s easy to get lost here,” Harry said. He felt relieved that he wasn’t the only one to get lost on occasion. “You’re near the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Anywhere, in particular, you want to go?”

“Quidditch Pitch. We booked it for later for class at 2,” Sam answered. “We just wanted to find where it was, so we could prepare for later. We wanted to explore too but got lost.”

“As I said, it’s easy to do. Class at 2? That would be us then,” Harry realized. “Us and Ravenclaw.”

“Those are the blue guys, right?” Dean asked and Harry nodded.

“I’ll show you where the pitch is. I have a free period before lunch anyway,” Harry offered. 

“That’d be great,” Sam accepted. “Thanks, Harry.”

They took off walking in the other direction. They passed through a seemingly endless stream of corridors and down several flights of the moving staircases, which had freaked Dean out on their first day.

Sam felt the rumble before the staircase moved. “You might want to hold onto something.” He told Dean as he stopped moving and held onto the railing

“What are you talking about S-” Dean started just as the staircase began to move. “Woah! Oh, fuck!” He tumbled down two steps. “What in the hell are these death-traps?!” Dean exclaimed. Sam hid a snicker at the memory. Dean and heights did not mix.

“So, Harry, You’re in your sixth year, right?” Sam asked, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “I’ve one year left.”

There was a silence before Harry spoke again as they were walking through more corridors.

“Your class was very interesting on Monday. I didn’t know there were so many things out there.”

“ Yeah, the world is full of some weird crap,” Dean shrugged. “Glad you liked it.”

“Does Dumbledore really think Voldemort is going to recruit monsters?” Harry asked suddenly. At their quizzical look, he explained. “Dumbledore talked about it. He brought me to my friend’s house after picking me up from my Aunt and Uncle’s.”

“Your Headmaster picked you up?” Sam asked, confused. It seemed a little strange. Harry laughed.

“It is strange I suppose. Dumbledore was the one to leave me in their care when I was a baby. And he wanted to have a word with them.” Dean and Sam nodded at the clarification.

“You seem very… in the know,” Dean pointed out. Harry was the most outspoken of the kids outside of class, he noted. 

“I have to be. I like to know what’s going on regarding Voldemort. Especially since he’s gone more secretive now that the Wizarding World knows he’s back,” He explained. “Finally,” he muttered under his breath. The brothers ignored that. 

“So, you liked the class?” Sam asked. Harry nodded and the hunter smiled.

“It was interesting to know what’s out there,” Harry continued. “Why are we going to the pitch for class anyway? You mentioned training?” They passed through a tunnel.

“You’ll find out later,” Dean said simply. Harry nodded.

“Here we are,” Harry said after a few more minutes as they walked into a giant oval field, three large hoops at each end. “I have to head back for lunch. My friends will be worried.”

“Go get lunch. Thanks again, Harry. It was nice of you,” Sam said gratefully. 

“You’re welcome Professors,” Harry smiled and walked away.

“Seems like a good kid,” Dean noted. “This place seems like it’d work.”

“Yeah. We should get some lunch and get ready for the class.”

They found themselves in the Great Hall fifteen minutes later. They sat in their appointed seats. 

“Morning Sam, Dean. How are you settling in?” Minerva greeted.

“It’s going well,” Sam told her. “The students seemed interested. We’re focusing on Wendigos this week.”

“That sounds interesting.” Filius Flitwick looked up from his food, fascination in his eyes. 

“We figured we would start with something easy.” Dean shrugged. “We have training with the sixth-years after lunch.”

“Training?” Filius queried.

The contents of the Winchesters’ class were very interesting to the other staff. None of them had much knowledge of what was out there. Wizards, Dean figured, kept to themselves in their own little bubble. As he mused over that fact, he grabbed a chicken leg and started to eat.

“We have to get the students trained on physical defence too,” Sam explained. “Wands only get you so far, so we figured some training wouldn’t hurt.”

“That is a good idea,” Filius nodded. “It would be good exercise too.” A certain spark glinted in his eyes as he looked excited, turning to both brothers again. “Dean, Sam, if you are interested, I could offer you some help with the training. I know of some Charms that may be helpful in defence and I could teach them in my classes if you think that will be beneficial.”

Dean and Sam looked at each other a little surprised at his generosity. Dean mulled over the possibility in his head, and he imagined the students causing a Death Eater’s head to grow twice its size. He laughed at the mental image, able to see the benefit to it. He wasn’t an expert on Charms at all, but he figured there could be something helpful to protect them against the various monsters they were teaching the students. Sam was coming to the same conclusion, weighing up the pros and cons in his head, analysing the different ways that all the subjects could work together to help best protect the students.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked, a little surprised. “What kind of charms could help?”

“Charms cover many aspects and can include some defensive attributes,” Filius explained. “Bombarda is a Charm used to provoke small explosions. There are also concealment charms which could help the students become invisible if needed for their own protection. A Confundus charm is also very useful which confuses the opponents which could give them an edge if they ever, Merlin forbid, came into contact with any of these monsters.” The small Professor looked horrified at the thought but continued to speak. “Those are only three examples; of course, there’s many more. I could give you a book if you like, and you can see the range of effects that these Charms have.” 

“Thank you, that would be great,” Sam smiled. Filius beamed and he went back to his food. Dean immediately became distracted by his own meal, digging in with relish.

 “This food beats diner crap,” he noted. 

“You’re right,” Sam had to agree.

“This is amazing…” Dean groaned; the sound lustful. Sam raised an eyebrow.

“Never make that noise again…”

“Okay fine. So, what’s the plan?” Dean asked. “Specifically, I mean?”

“Train them like Dad trained us. Basic defence moves, laps. To start with. Not as harsh as what he used to do. They’re not exactly brawny.”

“Yeah. That Harry kid is pretty skinny.”

“I was a skinny kid,” Sam replied with a raised eyebrow. 

“And you turned into a giant beanpole,” Dean shot back. “Better be careful or some kid named Jack might come looking for you.” 

“Thanks,” Sam said sarcastically. They lapsed into silence focusing on their meals. When they were full Dean put his fork down. He stretched backwards in his seat, then groaned a little.

“So…” Dean began. “We should get going, set things up.” 

“Yeah. You’re right,” Sam replied. They rose from their seats and started the long walk towards the Quidditch pitch.

“So, where do we start?” Dean asked as he put his bag on the ground. 

“We have to set up targets,” Sam answered as he opened his bag. They got to work. He started to place his targets. He forced one into the ground and gave a huff. 

“Magic could make this so much easier.”

“All a part of the job man,” Sam shrugged. 

“I guess,” Dean replied. “So, target practice, laps. What else?

“I don’t know. We can work it out later when we know them better,” Sam answered. Dean nodded.

“This brings back memories doesn’t it Sam?” Dean piped up “Training with Dad?”

“Yeah… it does. Bad memories on my part,” Sam replied as he stuck another target into the grass. “I was fighting with Dad, more than I was training.”

“Well, you did always butt heads,” Dean snorted.

“Yeah, we did. Looking back on it… I wish I handled things differently,” Sam sighed.

“Dad understood, underneath all the pissiness. He just was terrified to lose us. I’m not excusing what he did, but he had good intentions is what I mean. I’m just saying it could have gone better.” 

John Winchester was big on physical training when they were kids. He was an ex-Marine after all. Sam and Dean would run for hours, do push-ups, shooting practice, the lot. John would be relentless some days. They’d jog through the mud and rain, have training exercises until they were exhausted and sore. Dean pushed a stake into the ground as he spoke. It wasn’t an easy childhood and at times Dean did hold it against him, but John did the best he could in an impossible situation. Don’t get him wrong, his father was an asshole, but he loved them and would have done anything to protect them.

Dean looked over and saw a figure who he recognized as Madam Hooch glaring at him. 

“Why is she giving us the death stare?” he muttered to his brother. Sam laughed at the obvious answer as he spoke.

“Probably ‘cause we’re screwing up her field.” The unspoken duh was implied.

“We’ll put everything back!” He shouted. Madam Hooch gave a Curt nod and left. 

Sam and Dean watched as the students filed in, some looking excited, some nervous as they took in their surroundings. Most of the Muggleborn kids looked more prepared than the others, having had a few P.E. classes before starting Hogwarts. 

They looked to see that the Quidditch field has been completely transformed into a makeshift training field. Targets were scattered every few hundred yards. Crude rope walls were on either end with several obstacles in between them. Dean and Sam stepped back and appraised their masterpiece while their group of sixth years stood wide-eyed and shocked. Some kids looked like they were going to be sick.

Dean pointed to two separate barrels, one filled with blue shorts and shirts with brass embellishments, the other filled with the same items but in red with gold trim.

“I want you guys to change into these. We’re doing class a little differently today. 

“This is the start of the Practical Lessons for this course. We’ll expect you all back here in ten minutes,” Sam explained.

“Anyone late will get points deducted from their overall score,” Dean smiled at the look of terror in their eyes

“He’s joking…” Sam said, glaring at his brother. The students gathered clothes in their sizes and left to change.

“We did a pretty good job with this place,” Dean said, admiring his work. Sam nodded.
It was a few more minutes before the students came back, looking a little more nervous than before. 

“Hey guys, so as I said, we are starting physical training.  Hunting isn’t all about knowledge. You have to know how to protect yourselves. That is equally, if not more important. So, we’ll be putting you through the paces to see where you need some improvement. Don’t worry, this isn’t a race or a competition. Go at your own pace,” Sam explained.

“The point of this is to protect yourselves. So, we’re gonna start with some basic physical defence,” Dean continued, his eyes darting across the group.

“We’re going to give you a quick demonstration. Combat is about anticipation and action. You have to try to anticipate what the other person is going to do,” Dean told them. Suddenly his hands shot out, and he grabbed Sam without warning and put him into a headlock. The kids looked up in surprise, a few of them gasped. “Which is what Sam here forgot to do,” he smirked. 

Sam quickly moved the hand closest to Dean’s head, to his face, pushing him backwards. As he did that, he used his leg to sweep Dean’s feet from under him. Dean fell back, losing grip. Both brothers were using less force than usual, but it was enough to get the point across. Sam smirked as Dean tapped out, he released him. 

“Good technique and fast thinking can get you out of a sticky situation,” Sam finished, a little smug. 

The next few minutes were spent grouping the students into pairs and practising similar techniques with Sam and Dean watching closely. They didn’t want to give anything too advanced, so they kept it very basic. After a few minutes of this, they called for silence again. The students were murmuring again, wondering what could come next, when a plump looking boy raised his hand. 

“Sirs?” 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, pausing, not knowing the boy’s name. 

“Neville-Neville Longbottom,” the boy stammered. 

“Thanks, Neville,” Dean smiled, feeling a jolt of sympathy for whoever named their kid Neville of all things, and how is Longbottom a surname? He quickly brushed it off. “Got a question?” 

“Sir, why do we need to do the physical training? I understand about the self-defence, but we could always use our wands.” 

“I get it.” Dean nodded. It was a valid question. “I know most of you guys have grown up around magic. You don’t know what to do without it. A wand is a useful tool, but also a weapon. And the thing about that is, never rely too much on your weapon. What happens if someone breaks it? If it gets thrown out of your hand? Half the battle is about being resourceful.” Neville gave a grateful nod. 

Sam nodded at Dean’s explanation; proud of his brother for answering a serious question with a serious answer. “We’re not going to practice self-defence in detail yet,” He explained. “We want you to get through this obstacle course. Just to see where you are. Where we need to improve.”

“Get in a line, and we’ll start,” Dean ordered. The students gathered quickly in a line. There was a nervous energy running through the group.

“It’s one by one, the next person goes once the first is finished. Go,” Dean said, nodding toward Ron Weasley, who was unfortunate to be in the front of the line.

“Bloody hell…” he frowned as he started running. Dean and Sam watched as he took off, taking the first few obstacles. Dean nodded as he crossed the finish line where he collapsed into the grass, wheezing.

“Good hustle. Are you okay?” he asked when he reached him, handing him a bottle of water.  You did well. Just be careful of the rope walls.” 

“Thanks,” Ron gasped a little and drank some water. He went back to join his classmates. 

One by one, the students tackled the course. When it was Harry’s turn, the brothers noticed that even though he was skinny, he was fast, and his spells as he hit the targets were deadly accurate. Dean and Sam noticed a few standing out, such as Michel Corner and Hermione Granger, who tackled the course with determination.

The hour passed very swiftly, and most of the students left absolutely exhausted. Dean and Sam cleaned up with an air of accomplishment about them. They were satisfied with the day’s work noting a few students that excelled and would need a bit more training. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 9 ^th September 2011

The sun shone through the cracks in the curtains and directly onto Sam’s face. His eyes opened slowly, not used to seeing it due to the dreary weather of the Scottish countryside. He and Dean spent their first weekend at Hogwarts getting to know the lay of the castle, which seemed impossible due to the constantly changing staircases. But if they got lost there was always a helpful student ready to help get them where they wanted to go.  

Sam got up with a groan, still not used to sleeping on the fluffy mattress. If he had to be honest, it beat the hell out of sleeping on beat-up crappy motel mattresses. But it still took some time to get used to. He threw an arm over his eyes, attempting to block the sunlight out of his vision. He looked at the small old-fashioned clock, discovering it was 8 a.m. Sam pushed himself up and passed into the nearby bathroom. After a quick shower, he pulled his robes on. He rubbed the towel against his skull and left his hair to dry of its own accord. He walked to the window and stared out, still not used to seeing so much green countryside. The views that this Castle had… it really was beautiful, even for early September weather. 

He stretched, stiff from staying up till 3am due to the time change. It may have not been the best idea to stay up that late. But Sam used the time to plan for the next lesson. Sam thought that they’d rushed into the theory too fast. Dean tried to reassure his brother’s worries by bringing up the logical point that the kids needed to be trained as soon as possible. Calling the Voldemort situation a “powder keg ready to explode any minute.” Sam agreed, but a part of him thought the kids required a more in-depth understanding of how dangerous this was; in case any of them got any ideas.

He shook his head clear of the thoughts ravaging his mind and took in the view before him. The grass was picturesque green even with the clouds that threatened rainfall. Everything had a red hue as the sun rose. He took up the parchment on his desk, notes for today’s lesson. He picked up the heavy book beside it, one from Bobby’s personal library. 

Opening the book, Sam was greeted with the word Wraith in large block letters. Today’s class. Something else that was relatively easy to learn about.  Sam looked over his notes, his father’s journal propped open on the Wraith pages. It seemed like a good place to start, seeing as they originated in Scotland.

He could hear movement in the next room and knew his brother was up. He got the books and the papers he needed and moved to the adjoining door between their rooms and knocked. A moment passed, and it opened. Dean’s hair was still a little chaotic, and he ran his fingers through it with a yawn.

“Hey,” he greeted. 

Dean grunted in response, still not used to early mornings. Ironic, considering he was used to getting up early back home. Either he was getting old, or lazy. Maybe both.

“Damn, I need coffee… or booze…” Dean groaned.

“Preferably coffee,” Sam answered, appraising him with a raised eyebrow. 

Dean grumbled something unintelligible. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Come on man. It’s not that bad. You probably need to go on a detox.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Dean frowned. “So, Wraiths today?”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I’m just looking over my notes, and I wanted to get ready for the class rather than just go in guns blazing.”

Dean rolled his eyes and closed John’s journal. “What’s wrong with guns blazing?” Sam looked at him pointedly, Dean hated research, but he knew how much it helped to save their asses in a pinch. “Okay, okay. I hate it when you’re right…. I’m hungry, let’s get breakfast.

They walked down the seemingly endless hallways, quickly reaching the Great Hall. Dean frowned, “Great, we’re late.” The kids were all seated at their respective tables and watched them. They walked to the Head table and sat down. Mindful of the time, they ate quickly.

Pomona leaned over to Dean whispering rather loudly. “Late night eh?” She grinned widely.

“Don’t worry, you get used to the time change. I have a niece that moved to America a few years ago. She loves it there, but the time change was murder.”

“Oh really?” Sam spoke up after spreading jam over his toast. 

“Yeah, the lucky girl got a job at MACUSA, the US government as an Auror.” The plump witch beamed proudly. “Were all very proud of her.”

The bell soon rang. Both Winchesters finished their food and walked to their classroom. Dean sneaked some pastries in his pocket when Sam wasn’t looking. 

“Dean, I was thinking that we should talk with the kids, answer some questions,” Sam said when they reached their classroom.

“Like a Q&A?” Dean asked which Sam answered with a shrug.

“I think it’s a good idea. It can be a lot to take in,” Dean agreed. “So we have the Gryffindors and Slytherins this morning?”

“Same as every Thursday morning,” The younger Winchester snarked back.

“Shut up. We’re in a magical castle. Time has no meaning any more.”

“This isn’t Alice in Wonderland,” Sam rolled his eyes.  

Dean’s reply was cut off as the students began to file into the room. They were talking amongst each other as they sat down in pairs. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were the last to come in, sitting near the back of the class. 

“Hey guys,” Dean spoke, and the room fell silent. It amused him that some students seemed terrified, and would be as quiet as a mouse. But he also wanted the kids to actually like them, so they wanted to work to lessen the fears. Stupid newspaper, he thought. “So I’m sure that you guys have some questions after our first lesson, we figured we’d answer a couple of them. Well, as many as we can. We still have a new creature to talk about.” Sam smiled. “The topic is light today, not as intense as last week.”

One of the boys in the middle row raised her hand tentatively. Sam nodded at him to ask his question. “Um… Professors, why did we have to do so much physical training last week?”
“It’s important. We kinda touched on this in the training session, but you guys gotta have some knowledge of combat skills. Nothing too intense, but you have to know how to protect yourselves. It isn’t all wandwork.”

“No offence guys, but some of you wouldn’t last five minutes on a hunt.” Dean crossed his arms against his chest. Some girls in the class seemed to be eyeing the brothers up. “We’re not expecting you guys to be experts, so don’t worry,” he added, trying to put them at ease.

“Any others?” Sam prompted.

Hermione raised her hand. 

“Ms Granger?” Dean asked. 

“Yes, Professors. I was looking over the curriculum, will we have a former exam?” She asked, causing some other students to groan.

“Short answer, sort of. There will be exams, but probably not as formal as your other ones,” Dean answered.

Hermione’s face fell, as the rest of the students cheered. Sam smirked but made no other comment. “These questions don’t have to necessarily be about the course. Like it could be about some favourite cases, things like that.”

“Don’t be shy,” Dean added. Just keep it PG, he was tempted to add but held his tongue. His gaze travelled around the room, noticing how a few of the girls were staring at them. That’s creepy. Damn horny teenagers…… 

A Slytherin girl with long scraggly dark hair raised her hand and asked her question without being called on. “Do you really think what you’re doing makes any difference?” She sneered at them. 

“We think so,” Dean answered cooly, not letting her obnoxious question affect him. “These things don’t care who or what you are. All they want is blood and death.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Draco squirm slightly in his seat. The blond boy was sitting near the back with his cronies. His fringe was falling into his eyes. Sam noticed deep shadows under his eyes. 

“At the end of the day, we aren’t doing this, so we can get a pat on the back. We do it because people will die if we aren’t there to stop whatever it is that is going after innocent people,” Sam clarified and touched Dean’s shoulder before he could add something that would get them into hot water with the girl’s parents.

“The majority of people don’t know what’s out there,” Dean added. “We’d like to keep it that way for the most part.”

A Gryffindor hand shot up. “So why tell us, Professor?” 

“We don’t want you to be afraid of the creatures. We’re not here to scare you, we want you to be prepared.” Sam told them.

“What we’re looking to do is find a balance,” Dean continued. “As my brother said, we don’t want to scare you, but we want you to have a realistic outlook. These monsters aren’t going to take it easy on you because you’re kids.”

There were a few murmurs amongst the students before Neville raised his hand.

“Yeah, ah, Neville?” Sam nodded at him. 

“H-have you ever been… scared?” he asked, his voice slightly hesitant.

“Yeah,” Dean asked simply. He took a moment before continuing. “Course we have… We’ve mainly been worried about each other. When you go after these creatures, you want to have someone that has your back, like Sammy here, I trust him with my life. Your trust in your partner has to be bigger than your fears, then you’re set.”

“As much as I want to strangle my brother sometimes, he’s right,” Sam quipped, smirking at Dean. 

“Yeah, yeah whatever Sasquatch….” Dean rolled his eyes. “Alright, enough of this sappy show of emotion….” He cleared his throat. “Is there anything else anyone wanted to ask before we begin?” The students stayed quiet. 

“Okay, then so here’s today’s topic.” Sam wrote ‘Wraith’ on the chalkboard behind them in big capital letters. 

“Has anyone heard of a Wraith?” Dean asked. Most of the student’s shook their heads no. Hermione raised her hand. “Right Hermione, go ahead and start us off.” 

“Wraiths are humanoid creatures whose true nature can be seen only in a reflection, which looks like a sagging decaying corpse. They appear human except for the long, organic spike that they sheathe in their wrist and use to feed on their victims,” Hermione quoted the text perfectly, if not a tad bit disgusted.

“Blimey, that’s disgusting…” Ron grimaced.

“It’s not the worst thing, trust me.” Dean frowned. “You’re right. Wraiths can also crack open skulls and drink,” he grimaced before continuing. “Brain juice. The wraith that we took on in this case took to feeding on victims in a mental institution to avoid discovery.” 

Ron’s eyes widened, asking incredulously. “You were in a nuthouse?” Then added quietly.

“And I thought Lockheart was bad.”

“We had a friend, Martin, that called us for help. He was a hunter who worked with our Dad once upon a time. He had a breakdown, checking himself in for his own sake. A few years later, patients started to be killed,” Sam explained.

“So we needed to get in, and the easiest way? As patients. So we went to a shrink… and we told the truth about some things we’d gone through. Instant admittance pass,” Dean grinned. “Which I wouldn’t recommend.” 

“It was the easiest option,” Sam reiterated, a little sheepish. “We talked to Martin and eventually discovered that one of the nurses was the Wraith.”
“But not after it started to mess with our heads. It started to make us think we were actually cuckoo for cocoa puffs.”

“So let’s go over strengths and weaknesses.” Sam went back to the board. 

“A Wraith’s true reflection can be seen in a mirror,” Dean continued as Sam started to write. “And you can kill it with silver, so silver bullets, or a silver knife. If you can, hit them with a blunt object in the head, aka brain them.” 

Sam picked up. “Our friend, Bobby killed one by throwing a hatchet in its head.”

“Ew…” one of the Slytherin girls grimaced, wrinkling her nose.

Dean looked to her sympathetically. “We didn’t do that on this case. Their strengths are their ability to blend in with humans so well.”

“So, the memory that were going to show you is when we actually caught up to the Wraith,” Sam told the class. “Everyone line up.”

All the students rose from their seats and got in a line. They entered the Pensieve one by one. Dean and Sam followed them in. They landed in a hospital room.

Dean and Martin were standing in a hospital room. A woman screamed, and they hurried off. Dean kicked in the door to find Wendy on her bed, her wrists slit. Sitting on the bed over Wendy was a nurse. Dean looked over in a mirror to see that the nurse looked like the wraith. He looked back at the bed.

The kids looked in the reflection and one girl screamed and a Slytherin turned as green as his tie.  

“Is this real?” Dean asked.

The Wraith withdrew its hand from Wendy’s head. There was a skewer sticking out of its wrist, which entered Wendy’s head. The Wraith brought it up and licked it off before it went back into its wrist.

“Oh, it is, Sugar. It’s very real,” the Wraith smiled.

“Here comes the supernatural strength part.” Sam noted calmly as the events unfolded. 

The Wraith threw Dean against the wall. Martin attacked the Wraith with his blade, but she threw him into the hall. The Wraith pinned Dean to the wall by the throat and punched him a bunch of times. Martin, meanwhile, grabbed his blade and attacked The Wraith. She released Dean and put a hand up to shield herself. Martin cut its hand, and she yelled. Dean slid to the floor. The Wraith’s cut burned and crackled, and she shut the door, locking them in with Wendy. Martin saw that Dean was disoriented, and he got up to check on Wendy. After a moment, Wendy blinked.

“She’s still alive,” Martin told them.

The Wraith was heading down the hall, cradling its hand, and spotting two orderlies.

“There’s two patients in Wendy’s room. They attacked me,” it cried. The two orderlies rushed off, and the Wraith watched them go and smiled. Its hand dripped blood as it headed down the hall.

In Wendy’s room Dean tried to get his bearings against the wall.

“I was pretty out of it,” Dean frowned. “It was messing with my head.”

“Dean? Can you hear me? Dean!” Martin urged. Dean looked up and had a fragmented vision of Martin standing over Wendy’s bed, talking to him.

“You’ve gotta get out there and kill that thing. I’ll take care of her,” Martin was still talking, voice echoing in Dean’s ears.

“I can’t.” Dean muttered.

“You have to. You have no choice, son.”

The two orderlies walked in and grabbed Martin, who fought back. The orderlies were distracted by Martin.

“Go. Dean, run! Run!” Martin yelled.

“It makes things that bad?” A Gryffindor girl asked. Sam nodded.

“That’s why you don’t let them touch you or its game over.” Dean added. “I nearly died. The hallway was spinning and the lights were really intense. The only thing that kept me going, was knowing that Sam needed my help.”

Dean struggled to his feet and ran out the door. He fell against the wall and sat there for a few seconds before he pushed off from the wall and began to follow the blood trail. He fell to his knees against the wall.

The scene shifted around them again.

Sam was lying on a bed in a padded room. His ankles were strapped down, along with his wrists. The door opened, and the Wraith walked in.

“Hey! Let me go!” Sam yelled.

“No. You are far too angry to be out there in the real world.” The Wraith wheeled in a simpering voice. Sam and the Wraith look up at a mirror to see that it looked like the Wraith.

“You.” Sam realized with wide-eyed shock.

“Of course, it’s me.” It looked back at Sam. “I gotta say, you hunters don’t exactly live up to your rep.” It continued as it circled the bed. “I mean, Martin’s a wreck. He’s harmless.”

Sam began to fight the restraints.

“And you and your brother come in here, talking tough about killing monsters… kind of made you easy to spot. Then all it took was a touch….” It watched as Sam’s eyes grew wider with realization. “…and you were mine. Oh, I love it in here.” It knelt down at the head of the bed. “This place is my own personal five-star restaurant.” It trailed a finger across Sam’s forehead, and he jerked his head away from it. The Wraith stuck its finger in its mouth and licked it, moaning. 

“I wouldn’t let that bloody thing come near me…” Ron muttered, looking disgusted. “I thought the troll bogies were bad enough. Ow!” He exclaimed as Hermione hit him with her book.

“Pay attention!” She whispered as she went back to taking notes.

“Crazy brains.” It continued on as Sam struggled. It trailed another finger across his forehead. “They get soaked in dopamine and adrenaline and all sorts of hormones and chemicals that make them…delicious.” It licked its finger. “And the crazier they are, the better they taste.”

“You did this to me!” Sam growled.

“Well, I helped. But that rage?” the Wraith mused. “No, no, no. That’s all you.” It stood, walking to the side of the bed. “I don’t make crazy. I just crank up what’s already there.”

The Wraith sat beside Sam. “You build your own hell, but I give you the Legos. And when you’re ripe…” the Wraith smiled, the skewer popping out of its arm next to Sam’s head. “I make all of your problems disappear.”

The Wraith turned Sam’s head to the side, sticking the skewer closer to his head. The door flew open, and Dean stumbled through.

The Gryffindors cheered when Dean burst into the room. 

“You get away from him,” he groused, trying to sound threatening.

“Do you really think this is gonna end well for you, kiddo?” the Wraith mocked as she turned to face him.

“No,” Dean answered, taking out a silver blade. “But I’m crazy, so, what the hell?”

The Wraith chuckled and raised its hand. Its skewer went back into its arm. Dean swung the blade at her, but she ducked and threw him into the wall. Dean went after it again, and she grabbed his arm, throwing him into the wall. He dropped his blade. 

Sam watched, helpless from the bed. The Wraith threw Dean into the other wall, pinning him by the throat. Dean grabbed its hand as she raised its other one. The skewer jumped out, and was aimed at Dean’s forehead. Dean took hold of the other arm, trying to hold it away from his head. He grunted as he tried to push it away. Dean grabbed the skewer with his other hand and broke it off. The Wraith screamed as it backed into the other wall, holding its skewer hand, which is now spurting blood. Dean held the skewer for a moment and dropped it in revulsion. He ran over to the blade and picked it up. The Wraith turned toward him, yelling in rage. Dean stabbed the blade into its heart. The silver burned it as she hit the wall and slid to the floor. Sam and Dean stared at her.

“Brilliant…” Harry muttered.

The memory faded and the students and Winchester brothers were back in the classroom. 

“Alright,” Dean started, clapping his hands together. “Any questions about today’s lesson?” 

There was silence from the class. A student raised his hand.

“Fire away,” Dean smiled

“Ah… how did you get out of the hospital?”

“The alarm was raised, and we escaped, Sam answered. “In the mayhem they didn’t notice we were gone.”

“Most of the time it’s best for hunters to disappear,” Dean clarified.

“What about the Nurse?” Hermione asked.

“Most likely she never existed in the first place.” Sam twiddled with the chalk in his hands.

“Some monsters have a habit of slipping in somewhere where they can go unnoticed,” Dean told them. “It’s best to always be prepared.” 

Hermione nodded and started to write. 

Sam put his book away and spoke up. “So if there aren’t any more questions, then I guess you should hand in your homework.”

There was a rummaging as the students got out their parchment. 

“What’s the assignment for today?” A random student asked, as Sam went around collecting the homework.

“Ah…. Write up a paper on what you would have done in that situation,” Dean told them. “Remember what you learned in the first class and the training session last week. “Oh, and by next class have a partner, we’re doing things in teams from now on.”

“It’s always good to have someone watch your back.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 13 ^th September 2011

Harry dipped his quill into the ink bottle and looked at his best friend, his face scrunched up in frustration.  Harry had to admit, he wasn’t in the best mood either. His wrist was aching. Only 13 days into the term, and he had already gotten detention, after an unfortunate encounter with Snape. True, he’d kind of been asking for it. Telling Snape there was ‘no need to call him sir’ probably wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. Snape was being his usual bullying self, as they struggled in Defence Against the Dark Arts, with non-verbal spells. 

He spent the evening in Snape’s office, writing lines. The pain in his wrist was better than the memory of the scar on his right hand. I must not tell lies. It only tingled now when he thought of last term’s Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He had a feeling this year wouldn’t be any better, with Snape in charge of DADA. Although, he couldn’t possibly be worse than Umbridge. Though Snape was starting to think it was a challenge.

He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by Ron’s angry tone. 

“Oi!” he barked, glaring at the sofa by the fire. Harry glanced over to where his friend was looking and saw Ginny and Dean Thomas leaning toward one another, as if about to kiss. Like an arrow from a bow, Ginny’s head shot to the side to look at her brother.

“What?” she quizzed, brown eyes narrowing; suspicious.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” Ron fumed.

“Ron!” Hermione warned, but it went ignored. Ron’s gaze was firmly fixed on his sister. 

“I was just kissing my boyfriend!” Ginny seethed back, instantly defensive. Her face was beginning to turn as bright red as her hair. It occurred to Harry that maybe this hadn’t been the first time this argument happened. Dean, to his credit, looked a little embarrassed. 

“I don’t want my sister snogging boys in public!”

“It’s none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ronald,” said Ginny, reminding Harry of a smaller version of her mother. “Just because the only woman you’ve kissed was Auntie Muriel!” 

“Shut up!” Ron snapped back. 

Ginny rose with a huff. “I will not! Get over yourself, Ron! I’m not a child!” She picked up her books and retreated up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, stomping all the while. Dean rubbed the back of his neck before blowing out a puff of air. “Sorry mate….” And he walked up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories.

There was a long silence in which no one spoke. Only the awkward clearing of throats, and the scratching of quills against parchment. Hermione looked desperately like she wanted to say something, but the angry look in Ron’s expression held the words at bay.

“What’s with all this bloody partner stuff anyway?” Ron eventually mumbled after a while as he worked on his History of Magic homework. “This is worse than the Yule ball.” 

“It’s clearly about teamwork, Ronald,” Hermione said, barely looking up from her parchment, trying to avoid his eyes as she dipped her quill again.

“Me and Harry are alright, but what about you?” Ron grumbled as he looked over at her with a frown. “Who are you going to partner with?” Hermione put down her quill and glared at Ron.

“For your information, Parvati and I are teaming up. So you don’t have to worry about me Ronald, I can take care of myself.” She fumed before she picked up her books and stomped off up to the girls’ dormitories. She’d been angry, wishing she said something in Ginny’s defence earlier but was it her place?

“What’s her problem?” Ron frowned off after her, then he caught Lavender’s eye as he went back to his homework. She sighed and waved at him. He gazed around the room and his frown deepened as he looked to his right. 

“What is the matter with you, mate?” Harry asked quietly. “That was uncalled-for.”

“She’s my sister!” Ron complained.

“What’s the problem? She’s just dating, and Dean is a nice bloke,” As he said the words, there was an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He wasn’t really sure why.

“He’s too old for her… he’s in our year,” he scowled. “She’s only fifteen.”

“Which is one year younger than us?” Harry frowned, still not understanding what the big deal was. Ron threw up his hands in frustration. “You look just like Percy.” Harry snorted. 

“You really had to mention Percy?” Ron groused.

“Sorry, mate.” Harry patted his friend’s shoulder. “ Just calm down, I know she’s your sister, but she’s her own person. Can you imagine what it’s like? Being an only girl in a house full of seven brothers? I’m sure that she got with Dean because you two get on so well.”

Ron huffed, then grumbled. “I bet Dean wishes he could be Ginny’s partner for this ruddy class….”

“Don’t worry, he’s teaming up with Seamus. If you’re lucky he’ll end up in the Hospital Wing after this week’s training class,” Harry offered to try to cheer Ron up. It seemed to work, as he smiled slightly. “Come on, Quidditch tryouts are tomorrow.”

“And just because you’re the captain, you can’t just fast track me onto the team?” Ron clarified. 

“Sorry mate, no can do, everyone has to pull their own weight,” Harry said sympathetically. “But you’ll do great. You’re a great Keeper.” 

Lavender Brown walked over to Ron, biting her lip as she shifted back and forth. “Hello, Ron.” She spoke quietly. 

“Hello….” He replied in a confused tone. 

“I’ll be cheering for you in the stands tomorrow….” She smiled back, curling her hair around her finger. 

“Thanks?” Ron replied, going back to his work. Harry pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Lavender giggled a little before going back to her seat. 

“What?” Ron looked between Lavender and Harry. He decided to smack Harry on the shoulder and grabbed his homework before stomping up the stairs. 

The next morning, Ron and Harry waited for Hermione to come out of the girls’ dormitories. Ron thought, at least, that he was partially forgiven after he muttered an apology. They shuffled tiredly to the Great Hall. One of the Hufflepuff students was talking quietly beside them about having Demonology that afternoon.

“Ugh, I’m starving,” Ron complained as he sat down. “I still haven’t finished the assignment.”

“Ronald, you need to finish it. You won’t just fail but Harry’s grade depends on you too.” Hermione tried not to sound too obnoxious.

“Blimey, I know ‘Mione,” he grumbled. “I’ll do it. You sound like my mum.”

Hermione sighed, putting her hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re worried about Dean and Ginny. But I’m keeping an eye on her in the dormitories.”

“You are?” Ron asked.

“Of course Ron, she’s my friend,” Hermione replied with a smile. Ron nodded and smiled back. 

“I’ll help you with your homework tonight okay, mate?” Harry offered as he passed the jam to a fourth-year who asked him for it. 

“Are you talking about the Demonology class?” A musical voice came from the table behind them. They turned to see Luna looking at them expectantly.

“Hey Luna, yeah we are. What do you think so far?” Hermione asked.

“It’s rather interesting,” Luna replied thoughtfully. “I never knew there were so many creatures out there. Though, I’m sure these accounts are one-sided. I think most of them are misunderstood.” 

“I’m sure that Wraith was misunderstood.” Though Neville meant his words to be sarcastic, his shiver negated the intended effect.

“One-sided?” Harry laughed a little. “Luna, they’re killing people.”

“I suppose you’re right Harry,” she nodded. “I’ve been reading Supernatural Beasts and Defence, and there’s so much more out there that we didn’t know about. Has anyone else gotten to the ghoul section?”

Neville, Harry, Ron, and Luna looked at Hermione, the boys looking incredulous, and Luna looking in a dream-like state.

“These classes will be the death of me, I know it….  Neville frowned.

“You’ll be okay Neville,” said Hermione encouragingly. “You did fantastic in Dumbledore’s Army.”

Neville blushed shyly. 

“Anyway, some of these creatures look so interesting,” Hermione continued. “Even what the professors do. Hunters have been around for hundreds of years. I found a few books that were new in the library. There are so many creatures out there. Anything you could think of. Although, some of the creatures we know of are a little different. Vampires are very different from the ones in the Wizarding World. For example, the book says they don’t burn in the sun, just get irritation, and are not repelled by garlic-”

“Okay, okay Hermione, we get it,” Harry interrupted with a smirk. “Don’t spoil the fun.”
Hermione frowned a little before going back to her food.

“I think it’s exciting,” Neville spoke up. “Even though I can tell it’s going to get scarier.”

Ron nodded with a hum of acknowledgement.

Soon, Harry Ron and Hermione started walking toward the Quidditch Pitch, bags in hand.

“I am dreading this,” Ron grimaced. “Anyway, did anyone notice Dumbledore wasn’t at breakfast? That’s the third day in a row.”

“Probably Hogwarts business,” Hermione replied.

“I bet that it’s something to do with your classes, Harry,” Ron pointed out.

“How so?” Hermione asked.

“It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?” replied Ron. “Maybe he’s going to get more memories.”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied. “I guess it’s possible.”

The classes with Dumbledore had Harry’s mind spinning. He’d had one already, four nights before, the night of the first training lesson with the Winchesters. His curiosity was answered. He had several questions. What could Dumbledore want to teach him? Was it something to do with the prophecy?

It turned out that Dumbledore wanted to pull back the curtain on why Voldemort wanted to kill Harry in the first place. Harry was taken aback, under the impression that he had been told everything. Dumbledore informed Harry that he told him the facts, and they were to ‘journey together into the murky marshes of memory into thickets of wildest guesswork’, in his words. 

They travelled into the mind of Bob Ogden, a Ministry Official. He visited the Gaunt home, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. He came to the house to summon Morfin Gaunt to a hearing for a minor attack on a Muggle. The Muggle was Tom Riddle, who went on to become Voldemort’s father.  Harry witnessed the dirt and abuse in the home that was nothing but a shack. The Gaunts spoke only in Parseltongue, much to Ogden’s confusion. He tried to read the charges, but Marvolo, the father, was having none of it. He ignored the owls, as he perceived those who read as ‘wimps’. Marvolo beat his daughter, Merope, in front of Ogden, calling her obscene names and a disgrace to the family of Gaunt. Merope was revealed to be in love with the Muggle Tom Riddle, although the love was unrequited. This was the justification Morfin needed for the attack. Marvolo was disgusted by Merope. After he tried to choke Merope, Ogden sent reinforcements that returned to arrest Morfin and Marvolo. Dumbledore explained after the memory concluded that Merope slipped Tom Riddle a love potion, or perhaps put him under the Imperius Curse, he wasn’t sure. She eventually lifted the magic, and he left her, revolted by what she was. Harry noticed they were an odd family. Of course, they were Pureblood supremacists,  directly descended from Salazar Slytherin.  Neither of the three could read, and both Morfin and Merope’s eyes stared in opposite directions. 

The second memory involved a visit Dumbledore made to Wool’s Orphanage, where a young Tom Marvolo Riddle was growing up. It was revealed Merope died in childbirth and begged for her son to be named after his Muggle father who abandoned them, still clearly deeply in love. Albus went to speak with Tom, and told him of his magical abilities, and where he was to go to school. Harry saw how powerful Tom was at eleven, and very independent. He refused Dumbledore’s help in getting to Diagon Alley. He didn’t seem surprised by the news he was a wizard, in fact, he looked like he was scheming. Perhaps his first taste of power? Harry wondered. 

“Harry? Harry!” Ron’s voice drifted into his awareness.

“Huh?” Harry blurted. 

“You okay there mate?” Ron asked. 

“Yeah, sorry, got distracted,” Harry mumbled. They were approaching the Quidditch Pitch now. Both the Gryffindors and Slytherins looked around. The Pitch looked different from the previous week. There were floating targets hovering a few inches from the grass, unlike the crude ones from a week before that were embedded in the soil. There were various obstacles scattered around. The most surprising thing, however, was Professor Flitwick standing with the two Professors Winchester. Seamus laughed as he looked at the little wizard standing between the two men barely coming up to their knees. 

“Hey guys, welcome to training week two,” Professor Dean spoke first. 

“As you can see, we have some help with us today. Professor Flitwick has kindly offered to help by infusing some magic in this class. When you’re ready, go get changed,” Professor Sam instructed. 

The students moved into the changing area, donning their training clothes quickly. Harry pulled his red Gryffindor shirt over his head. The students walked back out into the pitch area and waited for the Professors to speak. 

“No need to look so worried guys,” Professor Dean laughed a little. “This week is similar to last week, but you’re going to be hitting some targets that Professor Flitwick is going to help you with.”

“Good afternoon students.” Professor Flitwick beamed. “I am happy to offer assistance to Professor Winchester’s on how to improve your charm skills. This will also help you in charms class as well. Today we will be practising ‘Confringo’.”

He spent the first few minutes of the class helping Harry and the other students with pronunciation and wand-waving techniques. Harry saw Professor Dean mouthing the spell and his hand twitched like he was practising the wand movement. “Do you want to join them?” Harry heard Professor Sam mutter.

“No…” Professor Dean shook it off and cleared his throat. “No, I wouldn’t want to show the kids up.” Harry rolled his eyes, the scene reminding him of Dudley when he was trying to be boastful about something. 

“Dean, we probably need to learn how to use these things. All we can do right now is make a book levitate.”

“True,” Professor Dean nodded and shrugged. He spoke up and addressed the students.

“Okay so, let’s try hitting some targets.” He stepped up to one of the floating targets and pointed his wand at it. “Confringo!” The end of his wand erupted with a fiery orange blast that shot straight towards his target, causing it to explode on impact. 

“Cool….” He muttered.

“Brilliant Professor!” Ron grinned. 

“Who’s next?” Professor Dean asked, looking around at the students. Daphne Greengrass raised her hand and took a try. As she did this, Harry noticed Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle glaring daggers into her back. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were gossiping nastily by the look of it. Her spell missed the target completely, blowing up a nearby obstacle.

“It’s okay,” Professor Sam assured. “Just take your time. We’re not going to leave until everyone hits the target once, so everyone will get a chance.”
Daphne nodded and tried again. This time her aim was perfect, causing the target to explode.

“Well done…” Professor Dean began.

“Daphne Greengrass,” she replied with a smile.

“Well done. Five-point thingies to Slytherin,” Dean told her. “I can do that right?” Professor Dean looked to Professor Flitwick. The small wizard nodded in confirmation.

The other students’ interest was piqued at the mention of House points. They lined up one by one and cast Confringo at the targets. Harry noticed that they didn’t give points to everyone, mainly those who produced a very powerful spell, like Hermione, or those who struggled at first, like Neville and Daphne. 

The students watched as Malfoy approached his target, “Confringo!” He shouted at the target angrily, watching in satisfaction as it exploded into tiny pieces. 

They continued through the students until everyone hit the target. In total, 20 points were gained for both Houses. Harry was given five points for his casting and accuracy, Professor Sam congratulating him.

“Ah, well done! Well done! This reminds me of the Dueling Club.” Professor Flitwick clapped as they finished.

“Duelling Club?” Professor Sam asked.

“There’s one every year. But my second year was the most… interesting,” Harry spoke up.

“Lockheart,” Ron coughed, not so subtly.

Professor Sam looked thoughtful for a minute before asking. “That’s the guy who lost his memory?” 

“How do you know?” Professor Dean asked.

“I read,” Professor Sam defended. 

“Yeah, that’s him. He accidentally wiped his own memory. They can’t fix it. He’s in St. Mungo’s Hospital permanently. Although, somehow he does remember that he liked doing autographs,” Hermione told them. Harry recalled the visit to the Hospital the previous year, after Mr Weasely’s attack.

“Wow…” Professor Dean frowned. “That sucks…”

It was later that evening after dinner when Harry returned to the Quidditch Pitch. His muscles were already sore from the training class, but it couldn’t be helped. Quidditch tryouts couldn’t be moved. He was Captain, after all, it was a weird feeling. He was the only remaining member of the team that had been there since Harry’s first year at Hogwarts, the last two were Fred and George who hadn’t finished their seventh year. Thankfully Ginny joined last year so that he wouldn’t feel so awkward. Half of the students just wanted to be in the same room as the famous Harry Potter. Ron walked beside him, seeming very excited. Ginny and Hermione trailed along behind them. When they got there, they realized that most of Gryffindor House must have turned up. Harry walked into the pitch. One confident looking seventh year strode forward and shook Harry’s hand. He saw Hermione wince out of the corner of his eye.

“Cormac McLaggen,” He introduced. “I’ll be trying for Keeper.”

“I don’t remember you,” Harry said in a confused tone.

“I missed last year’s. I was in the Hospital Wing,” Cormac explained as if it were common knowledge. “I ate a pound of doxy eggs for a bet.” He smirked at Hermione.

“Okay, well, if you’ll just wait with the others,” Harry said, gesturing to the line. McLaggen frowned a little but retreated back to the line. 

Harry began by asking all the students to divide into groups of ten and fly around the pitch. The first group were only first years, barely past their Flying Lessons with Madam Hooch. They flew clumsily, and Harry sent them away. No first years were allowed on the team, after all. He had been an exception in his first year, mainly due to Professor McGonagall’s competitiveness when it came to Quidditch. 

The second group was a number of girls that seemed like they were just there to ogle at boys. They went to the stands gladly to watch when Harry asked them to leave, starting to lose his patience. 

“Airheads…” Ginny rolled her eyes as they left.

“If anyone here isn’t from Gryffindor, leave now. Please!” Harry commanded, irritated, as he discovered a group of Hufflepuffs, trying their luck. The students left giggling. Harry sighed and continued on. 

It took two hours to accomplish, but by the end, he found three Chasers, Ginny, Demelza Robins, and Katie Bell. Jimmy Peakes and Ritchie Coote were appointed the new Beaters, and Harry moved onto the Keepers next. Each Keeper couldn’t stop more than three goals. The closest was Cormac, who saved four out of the five needed. Harry was surprised to see him shooting off in the other direction on the fifth and final penalty. He returned to the grass, muttering angrily. 

Now it was Ron’s turn. He flew to the posts nervously. Harry watched as he saved five penalties in a row. The watching crowd broke into a cheer. It seemed that Lavender Brown was cheering the loudest. Harry could see McLaggen stomping off the pitch angrily.

Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Well done Ron!” Hermione congratulated as she approached from the stands. It seemed the altercation from the night before was forgotten. 

“That was pretty cool,” said a familiar voice. Harry looked around to see Professor Sam and Dean walking toward them.

“Oh, hi Professors,” Harry greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came to watch. Professor McGonagall told us tryouts were happening. She seemed very… enthusiastic about it. So we thought we’d check it out. I don’t know anything about this, but your team looks good,” Professor Sam told him.

“Uh, thanks, Professor.” Harry blushed a little. 

“Professor McGonagall mentioned you’re pretty good at this?” Professor Dean asked.

“Yeah, I got onto the team in the first year. It’s unusual for that to happen.”

“Congratulations Harry.” Professor Dean clapped him on the shoulder. Harry blushed again.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” he protested.

“Will you come to the first game, Professors?” Ginny asked with a hopeful gleam in her eye.

“Sure, why not,” Professor Dean shrugged. “Count us in. Just don’t try to get me on one of those things.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 1^st October 2011
Harry walked into the Gryffindor Common Room in the morning, bleary-eyed. He had been up most of the night working out Quidditch plays with Ron.

“Hermione? What are you doing up so early?”

“I’m just going over my Demonology homework,” Hermione mumbled, and she scrawled on her parchment.

“It looks a little long,” he pointed out.

“I like to be detailed, what’s the issue?” Hermione frowned. Harry held his hands up in surrender. There was a short silence. “How was last night?” she asked. 

Harry was still a little tired from last night’s practice. He was very confident in the team he formed. Ron was growing more self-assured in his Quidditch skills, as Harry was glad to see. Ginny zoomed around the Pitch, a fantastic Chaser. Harry was sure she’d play professionally in the future. She loved it.

“It went great. Everyone’s doing well. Ron’s really coming into his own. Glad I picked him over McLaggen. He seemed very full of himself.” Hermione must have thought that he missed the small smirk she gave, but he didn’t. 

“What’s that look for?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Hermione said quickly, a little too quickly. 

“You know, it looked like McLaggen was acting strange at the tryouts, and he was standing in front of where you were sitting.”

Hermione blushed. “Oh alright, I did. I Confunded him,” she admitted. “You should’ve heard the insults he was firing about Ron and Ginny before tryouts! And he has such a temper! Acting like a child. I mean, honestly…”

“I guess,” Harry allowed. “Aren’t you meant to be a Prefect?”

“Oh shush,” Hermione snapped. “Just don’t tell Ron.” Harry laughed and nodded. 

Soon Ron descended from the boy’s dormitory, and they walked down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Hermione looked away quickly and Harry was trying to hide a smirk. Who knew Hermione could break the rules? 

They ate breakfast and walked into the depths of the castle. 

The Dungeons of Hogwarts were dark and dreary, lit by small lamps on the stone walls. Harry and Ron and Hermione walked down the hallway toward the Potions classroom.  They walked inside and sat down, looking at Professor Slughorn, who was standing at the front of the room with several cauldrons in front of him.

“Hello everyone,” He announced after everyone sat down. The noise hushed. “Today we are going to be looking at some potions that you have all read about before, but probably never made. Can anyone tell me what the first one is?”

Hermione’s hand shot up. Professor Slughorn pointed to her.

“Yes, Ms Granger?”

“It’s Veritaserum. It’s a colourless, odourless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth.”

“Very good!” Slughorn replied happily. “Veritaserum can be useful but is not very reliable. Can anyone tell me why?” There was silence and he continued. “The potion has a flaw. It makes the drinker say the truth, to the best of their ability, so their words may not be factual. Now, does anyone know the second one?” he asked, pointing to the second cauldron. The contents inside were mud-like brown colour. Harry grimaced, recognizing it.
Hermione raised her hand again and Slughorn pointed to her.

“Polyjuice Potion, sir,” she told him. 

“Excellent!” he smiled. “And the final is… yes?” Slughorn now looked amused, as Hermione’s hand shot up again

“Amortentia! It’s a love potion.” The girls in the class looked up in interest at the mention of a good old-fashioned love potion.

“She’s going to sprain her shoulder doing that,” Ron muttered to Harry.

“Yes, perfectly right. I assume you recognized it because of its mother-of-pearl sheen?”

“Yes, and the steam is rising in spirals,” Hermione confirmed. “It’s supposed to smell different to each person, according to what attracts them.” Harry heard Malfoy snigger but ignored him. 

“Take twenty-five points for Gryffindor, Ms Granger, well done,” Slughorn congratulated. 

“Amortentia does not create love,” Slughorn continued as he looked back to the cauldrons. “It causes an infatuation and is possibly the most dangerous potion in this room. Now, never mind that, on to today’s assignment.” He retreated behind his desk and spoke. “This potion is called the Felix Felicis,” he smiled as Hermione let out a gasp. “I assume you know what this does Ms Granger?”

“It’s liquid luck!”

“Yes, it is a funny little potion. Difficult to make and disastrous if brewed incorrectly. But when made right, you will find your endeavours will succeed, until the effects wear off of course.”

“Why don’t people drink it all the time, sir?” Ron asked. 

“If taken too much, it causes giddiness and dangerous overconfidence,” Slughorn replied.

“This is what I shall be offering as a prize today. One tiny vial of Felix Felicis.”

There was an excited murmur in the class. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy sit up slightly straighter. 

“I must advise that this potion is banned in organized events. The winner is to use it on a normal day only. The mission today is to replicate the Draught of Living Death. It is a complex potion, so I don’t expect a perfect potion. But the person that gets the closest, wins the prize. Off you go!” 

Everyone opened their books eagerly at once. Harry flipped through the tattered copy of Advanced Potion Making and as he noticed in his first Potions class, there were scrawled messages all over the pages. He found the section on the Draught of Living Death and began to work. He began to feel curious. His instincts were telling him to follow the handwritten instructions on the page, for some reason. He weighed his options: In six years he had never been successful in getting anything above an Exceeds Expectations from Professor Snape. Though Professor Slughorn seemed to like Harry well enough. But something in Malfoy’s smug expression made him really want to win. So even though the competition was slim, he thought, why not?

The instructions were not much different, adding a clockwise stir, and crushing the bean instead of cutting it. To his surprise, his potion was turning a pale pink. None of the other’s turned that colour, as far as he could tell. Hermione was sweating over her cauldron, her potion was still a deep purple. Ron’s was almost black. He was muttering under his breath while watching Harry. 

“How are you doing that?” she hissed. Harry shrugged.

“I crushed the bean instead of cutting it,” he told her. Hermione’s next words were cut off by Slughorn as he stood and clapped.

“Time’s up everyone. Stop stirring,” Slughorn announced. He began to make the rounds, looking into everyone’s cauldrons. When he peered into Harry’s, he gave a delighted smile.

“Well done Harry! A clear winner! You must have inherited your mother’s talent,” he gushed. “Fantastic at Potions, Lily was. Here, take your well-deserved bottle of Felix Felicis. Use it well.” Slughorn beamed as he handed Harry the tiny vial. Harry took it from him and slid it into the pocket of his robes. The Slytherins were glaring daggers into his back. Hermione looked disappointed, and Ron looked bemused.

Professor Slughorn concluded the class, seeming very enthusiastic. He issued the homework and they left. 

“How did you do that, mate?” Ron asked when they were in the Potions corridor. But Harry wasn’t listening. He saw Snape walking up the corridor and subtly tapped Malfoy on the shoulder. 

“Bathroom, I’ll meet you in the Great Hall,” he muttered. He walked away, leaving Hermione and Ron looking confused. Pulling his Invisibility Cloak from his bag and throwing it over himself, he followed Snape and Malfoy. They slipped into an unused classroom at the end of the corridor. Harry arrived, and they were already talking. Harry pressed his ear against the door, wishing he had one of the twins Extendable Ears. 

“You cannot afford mistakes Draco-” Snape was saying before Malfoy interrupted hotly.
“Stop looking at me like that. I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work!” Draco snapped.

There was a silence as Snape seemed to be pondering Malfoy’s words. 

“Ah… It seems your Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency,” he said. “What are you trying to conceal from your master?”

“Nothing! I just don’t want you butting your nose in!” he snapped. Harry felt a jolt of confusion. He’d never heard Malfoy talk like this to his Head of House before.

“So this is why you have been avoiding me? Do you fear my interference? Draco, if anyone had not come to my office after so many requests, I-”

“Give me detention then!”

“You know I don’t wish to do that,” Snape cut him off.

“Then stop doing it!” Draco snapped. Snape sighed. His voice dropped to almost a whisper. As he approached Draco.“I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother. I made the Unbreakable Vow.”

“You’ll have to break it then,” Draco scowled. “I don’t need or want your help. It’s my job. He gave it to me.”

“What is your plan?” Snape asked

“None of your business. I know what you’re up to. You’ll steal my glory!” Draco turned on his heel quickly and Harry had just enough time to get out of the way before he stomped out and down the hall. 

What could this possibly mean? Harry wondered. A mission? An Unbreakable Vow? Malfoy was acting strange since they saw him in Borgin and Burkes. Malfoy had been arguing with the shopkeeper. Merlin knows why… But down that street, it couldn’t be anything good. He was annoyed that he couldn’t catch a word of what they were saying. He walked toward the Great Hall. He stopped in his tracks as an image popped into his mind, something he hadn’t noticed. Malfoy showing something that Harry swore was on his left arm in the dingy shop in Knockturn Alley. Could Voldemort have possibly…? Harry broke into a sprint to the Great Hall. 

“I need to talk to you,” he said to Ron and Hermione. They rushed outside, curious and worried.

“Harry, what is it?” Hermione asked as they slipped into a classroom. 

“I saw Snape talking to Malfoy,” Harry told them. “He was offering him his help.”

“His help? Why?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know. He said he promised Malfoy’s mother something about an Unbreakable Oath?”

“An Unbreakable Vow…” Ron looked shocked. “Are you sure that’s what he said?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. What does it mean?”

“Well, you can’t break an Unbreakable Vow.”

“We got that Ronald,” Hermione said impatiently, racking her brain. “What if you break it?”

“You die,” said Ron simply. “Fred and George tried to make me do one. Dad found us and went mental. Fred reckons his left butt cheek still isn’t the same.”

“Well, moving on…” Harry said. “There’s more. Snape said someone gave Malfoy a mission. He said he wouldn’t tell Snape his plan. Do you remember when we saw him in Knockturn Alley?”

“Yeah, he was in Borgin and Burkes, right?” Ron asked, and Harry nodded. 

“There’s something I forgot….” Said Harry, pale. 

“Are you okay mate?” Ron asked.

“Is your scar hurting again?” Hermione fretted.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Harry waved them off. “ I could have sworn I saw him showing the shopkeeper something. Malfoy is a Death Eater!”

“What?! Harry, no that’s not possible. He’s sixteen. You think You-Know-Who’s recruiting teenagers?”

“It was something on his arm! He’s been given the Dark Mark. I’m sure of it!”

“I don’t know Harry,” Hermione said. 

“The conversation ended very quickly after I saw that. Borgin looked scared. Maybe Malfoy was threatening him.” Ron and Hermione looked at one another. Harry scowled, annoyed. A student wandered in and squealed in surprise.

“Sorry!” She left the room quickly.

“Harry, I don’t think it’s impossible… Just very unlikely,” Hermione spoke in a hushed whisper. “And it’s no secret you don’t like each other.”

“I know I’m right! He’s up to something!”

“Okay, Harry. Can we talk about this later? We’ll be late for Demonology,” Ron said. Harry sighed and nodded. They left the classroom, Harry feeling slightly annoyed.  

The trio were among the last students to file in, Malfoy looked as if the conversation with Snape hadn’t happened. Ron punched Harry in the shoulder to keep him from glaring at Malfoy. 

They sat in their seats and Professor Sam and Dean walked in. They walked to the front of the room. 

“Good morning guys,” Professor Sam greeted them warmly. Professor Dean was leaning against the teacher’s desk. “Everyone did really well at the training session last week. I’ll go ahead and collect last week’s homework. Please have it ready.”

As Professor Sam came around to collect their homework, Professor Dean picked up a piece of chalk and walked over to the blackboard.  They all started as he wrote ‘GHOUL’, the bold white letters standing out against the blackboard. 

“Now we’re getting to the good stuff,” Professor Dean announced. “Can anyone tell me what a Ghoul is?”

Ron raised his hand. “We have a ghoul living in our attic.” The Professors’ stopped short and gaped at him, making the boy feel a little self-conscious. “What? The worst thing he does is bang on the pipes at three in the bloody morning.”

“What…?” Professor Dean looked shocked.

“I guess there are two types of Ghouls,” Professor Sam muttered. “So, we need to go over the differences. Ron, what else can you tell us about your Ghoul?”

“He’s thick and harmless,” Ron shrugged. “They’re very common.”

“Well, I’m not sure if they’re universally the same.” Professor Dean pulled out a small leather-bound journal.

“This was our Dad’s journal. I mentioned it in passing in our Wendigo class. This contains every piece of information on every monster he knew of. A lot of Hunters keep journals on what they find out about. We consult it from time to time.” He started reading, “Ghouls are creatures that traditionally feed on the dead mostly by drinking their prey’s blood. Some have been known to feed on living humans. They can only be killed by decapitation or the destruction of their heads. They can shapeshift, appearing human by taking the form of the last person they ate. Ghouls are unaffected by silver or holy water. Ghouls are also known to create complex tunnel systems underneath graveyards, allowing them to freely move from grave to grave and feast without raising too much suspicion from hunters.”

A shudder ran through the group of students. “Blimey.” Ron’s eyes were wide. “Ours has never done that.” 

“Your textbook tells much of the same story.” Professor Sam continued. “A Ghoul is an undead supernatural being originating from Arabian folklore. A Ghoul or ghūl, which translated from Arabic means “demon”, is known to inhabit cemeteries or other types of burial grounds; in lore, they are known for preying on young children, drinking blood, stealing coins, and most famously consuming the flesh of the dead. It’s in eating the dead they can then assume the identity/form of the deceased. In some lore, Ghouls are not dissimilar to zombies, being corpses re-animated by witches or demons that can be commanded. Like zombies, the typical method for dispatching a ghoul is to destroy their brains.”

“Which means bashing their heads in,” Professor Dean told them. Professor Sam sighed and looked at his brother. 

“Professor?” A Gryffindor student raised his hand. 

“Yes?” Dean asked.

“Is it possible for our world’s Ghouls to become like that?” he asked. 

“Okay, guys look. First of all, just call us Sam and Dean. It’s okay. You have our permission if you want. Professor just gets confusing. Anyway, if they would hurt you, they would’ve done it already. Just be careful.” He advised. The students nodded. 

“I think it’s time for some backstory,” Sam spoke. “A few years ago we found out we had a half brother, his name was Adam. We went to meet him… His mother went missing. We discovered Adam wasn’t really Adam… He was a Ghoul. They killed him and took his form, to get to us. Our Dad kept him out of the hunting life. Unfortunately, that didn’t save him in the end. We found out the hard way what ‘Adam’ and his mom ‘Kate’ really were,” Sam explained. The students lined up and entered the pensive.

The students appeared in a small, dingy room. They saw Sam strapped to a table.  There was a cut in his torso, and the male Ghoul stuck into the wound. Sam groaned in pain.

“Ew…” A Slytherin boy wrinkled his nose.

“Thanks to your daddy, my brother and I grew up on our own. At least we had each other,” ‘Kate’ smiled bitterly. ‘Adam’ licked Sam’s blood off his finger. “Like you and your brother. Inseparable.”

“Actually,” ‘Kate’ mused. “It was very hard to get you on your own.”

“Like you said, Sam, the only thing you can count on is family,” ‘Adam’ grinned. ‘Kate’ drank some more of Sam’s blood and licked her fingers.

“And for twenty years, we lived like rats,” ‘Kate’ hissed.

“Graveyard after graveyard, all that stinking flesh,” ‘Adam’ continued. 

“Then we thought, ‘hey, why not move up to fresher game?’”

“And we knew just where to start,” ‘Adam’ smiled evilly. He dug the tip of the knife into the cut in Sam’s arm. Sam hissed in pain. 

The students winced at the gory scene. 

“Revenge—it’s never over, is it, Sam?” ‘Adam’ continued.

“First, it was John’s cop friend, and then his slut, and then his son,” ‘Kate’ smirked, pointing her knife at Sam and then at ‘Adam’. “Then I called John, but the son of a bitch was already dead.”

“So I guess you and Dean will have to do instead. Dean won’t interrupt us this time. We’re gonna feed on you nice and slow—like we did with Adam,” ‘Adam’ grinned as he went to make another cut.

“Oh, and, by the way, he was your brother,” ‘Kate’ informed Sam with a sinister smile. Sam struggled against the bonds. “You should know that.”

“He was still alive when we took our first bites.” ‘Adam’ looked positively giddy.

“And he was a screamer,” ‘Kate’ whispered in Sam’s ear.

“I can’t watch this.” One of the students covered their eyes and tried not to vomit.

‘Kate’ and ‘Adam’ each opened deep gashes on one of Sam’s arms. They held bowls underneath the wounds, ready to catch the blood as it poured down Sam’s arms in a torrent. 

“Sam, the more you struggle, the faster you’re gonna bleed out,” ‘Adam’ told him. “So you might as well lie back and relax.”

Suddenly the door banged open and Dean strode in, aiming his shotgun. He fired and shot ‘Adam’ in the shoulder. ‘Adam’ growled.

“Hey!” Dean shouted.

“Dean, they’re ghouls!” Sam explained. Immediately Dean fired, aiming for Kate’s head and pulled the trigger. Her body fell to the ground, dead.

“Which means head-shot,” Dean stated. Adam rushed Dean, glasses in the cabinet behind Dean smashing as he was pushed against them.

Some of the students moved out of the way. 

Dean grabbed ‘Adam’ and slammed him down, smacking a  metal bar into his head repeatedly, until he stopped moving. He got to his feet and immediately went to his brother. Sam groaned.

“Dean!” he gasped. Dean cut through the binding and put some towels on the wounds. 

“Come on. Come on. Come on. Hang on. All right, here we go. Here we go. Hang on, buddy. All right,” he muttered the whole time as he worked. 

“Thank you,” Sam gasped.

“That’s what family’s for, right? Keep pressure on that,” Dean told him. 

The students and the Winchesters exited the Pensieve. Some of the students looked green.

“Sorry guys, some of that was probably a little intense,” Sam told them. 

“Guess we should have warned you.” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry,” he smiled sheepishly.

Ron looked positively white. “I thought Spiders were bad.” 

“It doesn’t change the fact it was necessary to show you,” Sam told them. 

“Yeah, what we do isn’t a cakewalk,” Dean replied. “There are worse things out there, so be prepared for worse creatures as the year goes on.”

The students were quiet as Sam wrote down the homework assignment. 

“Well, I think it’s safe to say we traumatized them,” Dean grinned.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 9^th October 2011
Dean and Sam sat at the Head table, stomachs rumbling with hunger. Dean dropped into his chair and pulled over some pancakes. He started shoving a forkful into his mouth.
“It’s Third Years’ today, right?” Sam asked and Dean nodded.
“Ghouls again?” Dean grumbled. “I hate being reminded of how we screwed up with Adam. I should’ve done more. He felt like they failed him. Goddamn, fucking Ghouls. He shoved another forkful of food into his mouth to make himself feel better.

The first month of classes were going pretty smoothly, Dean thought. No one missing or dead, that was a plus. It was nuts, how much changed in such a short time. The Muggle Studies teacher was still missing though, and it irked Dean that they couldn’t just go out and search for her. Dean figured he would have to ask Albus about it when he could.

Dean looked up as the owls began to fly into the Great Hall. That’s still weird, he thought. Guys need FedEx… Or…. WizEx? He sniggered at his own joke, causing Sam to cast him a confused look. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jess flying toward them, a letter tied clumsily to her foot.

She hooted happily as she landed on Sam’s shoulder. Sam reached up and stroked her head. Jess ruffled her wings happily.
“Hey Jess,” Sam smiled and fed her a cracker.

“She thinks you’re her roosting perch because you’re so tall.” Dean smirked before asking her, “What did ya bring us, girl?”

“Hey, that's mine!” Sam complained as Dean untied the letter.
“Sharing is caring, bitch,” Dean laughed. Sam jerked the letter out of Deans hand.

“It’s from Bobby,” Sam smiled.

Dean peered over his shoulder. “What does it say?” He started to read, amused when he saw the first word.

Hey idjits,

The bird is kinda cute, but it’s damn needy when it wants food. It bit me twice. The fuckin’ thing is worse than Cas with those burgers last year.

“Good girl Jess.” Dean rubbed the owl’s head affectionately.

Anyway, things are good here. Pretty quiet by hunting standards, everything is quiet. Which kinda sounds like a bad thing, but I’ll take the breaks while I can have them. Before shit hits the literal fan.

Rufus and I hunted a Crocotta in Washington. Nothing too exciting, easy to tie up the case. Jody Mills called, found us a Vampire case in Wisconsin last week. I sent out a hunter instead; Garth. He’s a nice kid. I think you’d like him. The kid isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed sometimes, but he means well. As long as he doesn’t get his fool ass killed.

I haven’t heard from Cas in a little while. Guess he’s busy with Raphael and the God Squad upstairs. Have you had any luck with getting in touch?

How’s it like playing wizard? Typical, you two always get to have the fun. And before you ask there’s no way in hell I would swap places with you. You boys almost get killed on a weekly basis.

Dean laughed. “He ain’t wrong.”

Are there any updates on this Dark Wizard you’re after? You boys just make sure to stay alive, you hear me? And look after those kids too.
Anyway, enough of this rom-com crap. Just lettin’ you know I’m still alive. This bird is peckin’ at me… You should feed her more.
Bobby.

“Abrupt, as always,” Dean laughed.

“He’s okay, that’s what's important,” Sam stated and Dean nodded.

“True.” He spotted a snowy white owl swooping in over to the Gryffindor table to land beside Harry. He took the letter and started talking to his friends.
“So how are your classes going?” Horace asked.

“Great, really great. The kids are adapting well.” Sam smiled.

“That’s fantastic!” Horace beamed. “Well done, well done. Yes, I think we have a good term this year.”
“How’s Potions?” Dean asked. “You took over this year, didn’t you?”
“I used to teach here, but I retired. Albus thought it time to come back. With much persuasion, I might add. Mad times we’re living in… Potions is going well. ”

Sam smiled at the wizard.
“I gave my sixth years a little test last week,” Horace continued with a smile. “They had to try to brew the Draught of Living Death. Potter produced a perfect potion! Seemed to have inherited his mother’s talent,” he enthused.

“Funny,” Snape drawled. “Whenever I had Potter in my classes, he seemed to show no talent or interest whatsoever.”

“A lot of it depends on the teacher…” Dean smirked.

Snape was about to rise from his chair when something changed. A blue wisp suddenly appeared, shapeless. It hovered in the air before a voice spoke.
“I have a warning,” it began, and Sam and Dean were surprised to hear Remus Lupin’s voice echo quietly from it. Snape waved his wand. Muffliato, he thought.
“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead.” The wisp of blue smoke dissolved into nothing. The teachers tried to hide their alarm, not wanting to startle the children.

“I must contact the Order,” said Albus, dread in his eyes.  They returned to normal, finishing their meals with knots in their stomachs. It was imperative that they remain calm and act as though nothing had occurred.

It seemed like no time at all that Sam and Dean, Albus, Snape and Minerva were standing in an unused classroom. The door opened. Molly bustled in first, concern etched into her features. She was quickly followed by her husband, Kingsley, Remus, Tonks, Bill, Charlie, Fleur, and  Alastor. Most of the faces around the room were etched with worry.

“Kingsley? What happened?” Albus asked calmly, yet urgently.

 “The Ministry was taken during the night… It was all very quiet… They staged a coup. There were too many of them.”

“And Scrimgeour?” Minerva patted her hair nervously.

“He was found dead,” Tonks spoke. “I heard they tortured him, but that might not be reliable info. Once he was killed it was all over. The Death Eaters had the upper hand.”
“They tortured him?” Molly whispered in horror.

“We all know the Cruciatus curse is a favourite of theirs,” Remus scowled.
“What is that?” Dean asked.
“It is one of the three Unforgivable Curses,” Alastor grunted. “Use of even one of them gets you a life sentence in Azkaban. There’s three. The Imperius Curse, The Cruciatus Curse and the Killing Curse.”
“The Imperius Curse is used to control someone’s mind and actions,” Arthur spoke. “It was used regularly in the First War. “And so was the Cruciatus Curse… it causes unbearable pain.”

“Why not just kill the Minister?” Sam asked.
“I believe I have a theory,” Albus spoke. “I believe they would have wanted to know how to get to Harry.”
“You’re right sir. I was fighting Death Eaters outside while… They kept asking about Harry, and Scrimgeour kept saying he refused to give him up. It’s probably why they decided to kill him.”
Albus nodded sadly. “The Minister has been trying to get on Harry’s good side for a long time, since June. Cornelius was repeatedly in contact with me about having a talk with Harry.”
“After the horrid time the Ministry put him through last year?” Molly fumed. “They never believed him until You-Know-Who was staring them in the face in the Ministry!”
“I refused of course,” Albus continued. “Even until he was fired, he was trying. Scrimgeour seemed to take up that idea very quickly and sent similar requests. He sent Harry a letter late last month, asking for his support, so he could pass it on to the Ministry, for morale.”
“So, a poster boy?” Sam frowned
“Essentially, yes. Harry is of course wise for his years, and refused politely.”

“So, we are sure this is that Voldemort guy who attacked the Ministry?” Dean clarified, changing the subject.
Remus shook his head. “It was his followers. The Dark Mark has been spotted over the Ministry.”

“So that’s one missing and one confirmed dead.” Sam ran his fingers through his hair.

“If you’re talking about Charity, she’s dead.” Arthur sighed. “We can’t be sure, but we eventually found signs that she was taken by Death Eaters. There’s no way they would let her live… Not with her pro-Muggle ideals… It took us a while to find who saw her last and track them down. We discovered signs of a struggle near the spot where she was last seen.”

“What did you mean about something above the Ministry?” Dean asked.

“It is You-Know-Who's Mark. They cast it where murder by Death Eaters has occurred,” Snape spoke for the first time.

“So they leave a calling card?” Dean snorted.

“You might want to start taking this seriously, boy.” Snape sneered at him.
“Boy? Are you kidding me?” Dean stood up, his fists balled up.

Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Easy Dean. Calm down.” Dean sat down.

“I am taking this seriously. We know exactly what we’re walking into here. We’ve been through our own war.”

Albus stood up before Snape could speak. “We could learn from their expertise, Severus.”

Sam cleared his throat. “It was more of a personal battle. But we know about possessions and torture.”

“Look, you don’t know much about us yet. I get it.” Dean crossed his arms. “Sam and I have faced everything. Angels, Demons.” He scoffed. “Even the fuckin’ devil… I mean that is why you called us here right?”

“The Devil…?” Remus spoke incredulously, wondering if the two Muggles had suddenly gone insane.

“As in fire and brimstone yeah.” Dean was barely containing his anger. “After all of that, I didn’t come here to be insulted.”

“Dean, calm the hell down,” Sam snapped. “We know it sounds crazy. How do you think we felt?” He laughed a little, trying to defuse the tension. “But it’s the truth. We know all about what these guys do. Maybe not in specifics, in what they want. But they seem very similar to demons. And we know a lot about those.”
“We’ve been stabbed, shot, tortured, killed, you name it,” Dean added, calmer now. “We know how to do our jobs, we just want to help.”
“Killed?” Molly asked in horror. “That’s impossible… how?”
“Not as impossible as you think,” Dean said. “There are ways people can come back. None of them are good. Trust me. It never seems to end well.” He glanced over at his younger brother.

“Where was this logic a few years ago?”
“Shut up Sam… Not the time or place.”

Albus cleared his throat. “Maybe we should focus on the subject at hand…. Does this seem like a declaration of war?”

“He took down your government,” Sam answered. “If that’s not a war declaration, I don't know what is.”
“Sam is right,” Alastor agreed. “Pius Thicknesse has just been sworn in as Minister.”

“Thicknesse?” Arthur asked.
“Isn’t he Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?” Charlie asked. His father nodded.

“He was having a lot of meetings with Scrimgeour recently, and the other Heads of Departments,” Alastor grunted. “Hanging around him like a puppy.”
“He’s an ex-Auror,” Tonks explained to Sam and Dean. “He knows too much. Is it possible he’s been Imperiused? There have been so many changes in the Ministry in the past few months,” She added, her hair turned a dull blue as she spoke, her eyes betraying her fear.
“Take it down from the inside? You think that’s what he was planning?” Remus asked, he took Tonk’s hand, worried not just for himself but for her.

“It seems possible. If he had Thicknesse under the Imperius Curse, he would have much more access to the Minister directly,” Albus said, remaining quite calm.

“And now that he’s Minister…” Kingsley sighed. “There are rumours that the Death Eaters are targeting the Daily Prophet too.”

“I don’t get it,” Sam began. “Wouldn’t Voldemort want to be Minister? To have full control?”

“He doesn’t need to,” Remus laughed. “ Effectively, he is the Minister. If we are right, Thicknesse is his puppet, taking care of business, leaving You-Know-Who to set his sights beyond the Ministry.”
“And if something goes wrong, it’ll be Thicknesse that takes the fall,” Sam muttered darkly.

“It’ll cause fear,” Dean agreed with a nod… “If people are being controlled, how do you know who to trust?” There was a murmur of uneasy agreement amongst the group.

“There is a second issue at hand. It appears many of the shops in Diagon Alley were broken into this morning. Death Eaters were seen going in to talk to Ollivander.” Kingsley said. “Of course the Ministry is keeping this quiet.”
“Is he okay?” Sam asked, recalling the old man when they went in to collect their wands.
“No one has seen him,” Kingsley replied gravely. “He’s gone. There were no signs of a struggle. It was a small group of Death Eaters led by Fenrir Greyback.”

Remus’ face instantly became dark, anger in his eyes. With the scars covering his face, it made him look more menacing. Sam and Dean looked at each other, realizing that there had to be some history there.

“Is this Greyback dude high up in the Death Eaters?” Dean asked Remus. “Like the head Death Eater?”
“No, he’s far from it. He is one of the lowest ranks. Death Eaters are branded with Dark Mark on their forearm, and it’s seen as an honour. Greyback hasn’t been rewarded with it. He is hated amongst them. You-Know-Who only keeps him around as a threat. He’s a Werewolf, and he joined to have more access to victims. He is a monster. Fenrir has been known to attack even without the full moon, as apparently his hunger for flesh doesn’t state him enough only once a month,” Remus said in disgust.

“Not to pry or anything, the guy seems like a monster,” Sam cleared his throat, “but it sounds like there’s a more personal connection.”

“He is part of the reason you were called here.” Albus sat up taller in his chair. “Remus, I feel the time has come for you to tell Sam and Dean the truth.”

Remus looked to Albus and sighed, nodding his head. “I have history with Greyback. My father was very outspoken about Werewolves. Greyback was brought to a trial after he murdered two young Muggle boys. He was able to trick almost the entire courtroom of officials that he was a Muggle tramp unrelated to the attack. My father realized he was a Werewolf, and insulted him. I believe he called him ‘soulless, evil, deserving of nothing but death’. He was very close-minded. Greyback escaped and sought revenge. He found our home.  I was four, and playing in the front garden.”
Dean winced, knowing what was coming.
“He attacked me,” Remus said, gesturing to the scars across his face. “He also bit me and made me like him. Since a child, I have been a werewolf.” He looked to Sam and Dean, anger blazing in his grey eyes.

“I’m so sorry Remus.” Sam looked concerned for the man, realizing that he must have been uncomfortable around the two Hunters from the beginning. “It must have been hard growing up that way.”

“I was an outcast for seven years until I got my letter from Hogwarts.” Remus smiled sadly. “I met friends, including Harry’s father James and his godfather Sirius, with whom I would trust my life. Sadly, I am the only one left. I take a potion monthly that helps with the transformations. I am able to control myself now.”

Sam and Dean nodded. “Hey, we get it.” The latter spoke. “We’ve met some good people that have been dealt a bad hand in life, just like we were. We’re sorry about your friends.”

“It’s alright,” Remus reassured them with a weak smile. “I apologize if I came across as hostile. Werewolves have been treated with nothing but bigotry for years. Greyback and others give my kind a bad name. Most of us try our best not to harm anyone. Without my friends behind me, who did not judge what I was, I don’t think I could have done it. I owe James and Sirius with my life. I feel like I owe it to them to keep Harry safe and to prevent more deaths from happening.”

“Speaking of which, other than Charity and Mr Ollivander, who else has gone missing or dead?” Sam looked to Tonks and Kingsley.
“The Dark Mark was spotted over London. Florean Fortescue was found dead in his shop.”

“Shit,” Dean muttered.

“All these attacks… It’s like the first time…” Arthur said worriedly. Sam and Dean looked at each other.

“This happened before?” Dean asked.

“Before Voldemort’s fall on that October night, There were many attacks. Many Muggles and wizards alike were kidnapped or murdered. I created the Order of the Phoenix in the first war to try to stop Voldemort. But we lost many,” Albus told them.

“I was wondering why there were so little people at the Order meetings,” Sam said.
“Our numbers were greatly diminished during the war. The McKinnon family was murdered in their beds, the Bones,” Alastor told them. Molly sniffed into a handkerchief as she wiped her tears away.

“My brothers,” she hiccuped. “Fabian and Gideon were killed in a battle against Death Eaters. They were high ranking members of the Order.”
“I’m so sorry Mrs Weasley,” Sam told her. Dean nodded his agreement.
“I told you, it’s Molly dear,” she hiccuped again and sniffled, but she smiled, teary-eyed. “Thank you.”

“Harry’s parents of course were members,” Minerva spoke for the first time in a while. “Fine people…” Her voice was slightly strained.
“Even after Voldemort was defeated, it didn’t stop…” Remus spoke, his voice dark. “Some murdered, some worse.”
“Worse?” Dean asked, dreading the answer.
“I’m sure you’ve met Neville Longbottom?” Alastor asked.
“Yeah, sixth year Gryffindor. He’s a friend of Harry’s,” Sam nodded. “Little skittish but a nice kid,” Dean added.

“Not long after Voldemort’s defeat, several Death Eaters were trying to find where Voldemort had gone. Frank and Alice, Neville’s parents, were high ranking Aurors, and Order members. The Death Eaters were convinced Frank and Alice were involved in Voldemort’s fall from power. They were attacked… and were tortured into insanity. They have never recovered, and are in St Mungo’s Hospital, for lifetime care. To this day they do not recognize their son, even though he visits them regularly. It’s a damn shame too. They were great Aurors.”
“Fuck…” Dean muttered. “Poor kid.”

“So he just likes torturing whoever they can find?” Sam said angrily.
“Course he does Sammy,” Dean replied. “They’re sadistic bastards. What did I tell you before? Demons, I get; people, they’re crazy.” His words were deadly serious and bitter.
“Voldemort has made repeated attempts to get to Harry over the years, especially since his fourth year,” Albus spoke again.
“He tried to use me to get to him last year. I was attacked by You-Know-Who’s snake,” Arthur sighed and looked up, pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Harry saw it in his mind and raised the alarm. They got me to St. Mungo’s in time.”
“He saw it?” Dean asked. “Was it that connection you mentioned?”
“Yes. Harry saw into Voldemort’s mind,” Albus said. “It doesn’t happen very often.”
Sam and Dean nodded.

“So these attacks, are they just Death Eaters? Any sign of anything else?” Dean asked.
“If you mean by monsters, no. We wouldn’t know what to look for,” Kingsley frowned.

“It would be mysterious or odd deaths.” Sam clarified. “Bodies drained of blood would indicate a vampire, missing hearts for werewolves, that kind of thing.”
“No, nothing like that. Werewolves don’t do that,” Remus said.

“There must be two types of Werewolves,” Dean said. “It happened in class the other day when we were teaching about Ghouls.” He looked at Molly. “Ron said you had a Ghoul living in your attic.”
“Yes we do,” Molly said.
“Yours seem to be harmless. The ones we met, well they eat people,” Sam frowned.

“Oh my…” Molly’s eyes widened, and she looked at Arthur.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Dean told them. “He sounds harmless according to your son.”
“Looks like there are multiple sub-species of monsters,” Sam mused.
“Calm down college boy, you were Pre-Law, not Pre-Sciencey-Guy.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is Biology,” Sam shot back.
Dean rolled his eyes.
“So, what now? What do we do? Our children aren’t safe,” Molly fretted, remembering the arguments between her sons and Ginny about coming back to Hogwarts.

“Molly is right Albus. Students are being collected by the day…” Minerva spoke up in a worried tone. “Their parents are worried that Hogwarts is no longer safe.”

“Voldemort will not dare attack the school as long as I am here,” Albus spoke calmly, ignoring the collective wince from the Order members. “Though he has already proven that he will use any means necessary to get to Harry. Let us remember that he is what Voldemort wants.”

“So, why wasn’t he called here?” Dean frowned, “He deserves to know all of this. Are you planning on letting him in on this?”

“Harry will be informed,” Albus continued. “But this needed to be discussed with the Order first.”

“All of it?” Dean confirmed. Sam tried to get him to stay out of it, but Dean ignored it.
“Yes, he will know everything.” Albus looked to the Winchesters with a knowing look in his eyes. “You have grown attached to these students, haven’t you? Even though you have only known them for a short time.”

“The kids should be given the best chance,” Sam said. “We don’t want them getting hurt.”

The Order members, though from different backgrounds, all nodded in agreement. Protecting the children should be their top priority

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 12^th October 2011
It had been a few days since the emergency Order meeting. The teachers tried not to let the tension show and to show a strong united front for the children. For the most part, it worked. No one seemed to question the students leaving and Albus calmed the Governors down. The chaos at the Ministry had not touched the hallowed halls of the school and classes resumed. 

The Winchesters, for one, were relieved. The last thing they wanted was for the students to panic over things out of their control. They were safe…. For now anyway. 

Changes were too being made in the Wizarding World already. In three days, Thicknesse was sworn in, and a bounty was put out for all Muggleborns to prove their ‘magical status.’ Dean and Sam read the newspaper every day with disgust clear on their faces. Death Eaters were already being employed in the Ministry, and surely more were being put under the Imperius curse. Luckily, none of the students were affected, as Dumbledore would not let any changes come to the school. The students were safe as far as they were concerned. Safe, but scared. Even though life went on as normal, they saw more and more worried faces around them. 

The newspapers were another matter entirely. Sam and Dean saw more and more articles as it shifted its opinions, to mainly target the likes of Harry and Albus. They discredited their characters and did anything they could to smear their names further. The boys learned more about what the Ministry was doing in the previous year, before their fall to Lord Voldemort. According to brief snippets they heard from the students, a lot of them didn’t pay the Daily Prophet much mind. But some did, and it caused worry and mistrust in the past. In what they saw in the past few days, it was only going to get worse, as more propaganda was pushed out.

It was early in the afternoon when Dean walked up the stone steps of the Owlery to stretch his legs and to go see Jess.  He needed to clear his head. It had been an onslaught of information over the past few days, nevermind the last two months. He wouldn’t let Sam know, but he was starting to like the tawny owl. She hooted happily when she saw him come in. 

“Hey Jess,” he smiled. He rubbed her head affectionately. “Are you making friends up here? Are the other birds being nice to you? If they aren’t you let me know, and I’ll kick their feathery asses.” Jess buried her head into his palm, seeking pets. She stuck her leg out where the newspaper was tied to it. Dean untied it and was immediately met with a photo of his own face, along with his brother’s.

“Well, this can’t be good.” He unfurled the article. “Hey, at least they got my good side.” The words ‘WINCHESTERS TAINTED BY HELL?’ jumped out at him. He began to read. His eyes widened. What the fuck? Were the first thoughts to enter his head. He immediately bolted towards the castle. 

Dean darted up the steps to his room, and through the adjoining door into his brother’s, the newspaper clutched in his hands, his temper flaring. Sam jumped when the door banged open and Dean threw the paper at him. 

“What the hell?” Sam muttered as he unfurled the crumpled paper. His eyes scanned through the article.

“Exactly, someone found out about us going to hell…” Dean said. “Fuck, this is all we need right now.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “How in the hell did that get out? We didn’t tell anyone that.”

“Woah, Dean. Calm down.” Sam sighed.

“Calm down, you want me to cal-” Dean cut off his sentence with a laugh. “Sam, are you serious?”

“Look, we were going to tell them about it eventually, right? This just bumps the timeline up a little.” He picked up the article. “They got the chance to tell their version of events, let’s tell them ours. Instead of doing Rugarus today, let’s do Demons. We have class in an hour. Let’s get prepared.”

“Okay, okay…” Dean grumbled. “Why are you the voice of reason today?” He said rhetorically as he grabbed his bag.

“It’s a talent,” Sam said sarcastically. 

Together, Sam and Dean walked to the Demonology classroom and began to set up. Dean walked to the Pensieve and began to pull the memories from his mind. Dean grimaced at the thought of dragging out those memories again, he really didn’t want to relive them but knew the kids had to know, had to understand what happened when things went south. 

They walked to the table, Dean looked down and a small beetle scurrying across the polished mahogany. He grabbed a small cup and trapped the beetle inside. He could hear the small clinking sound as it tried to get out. Sam looked at him quizzically. 

Dean shrugged innocently. “It’s just a beetle, figure if that Malfoy kid pisses me off I can put it down his robes.”

Sam rolled his eyes as the students began to file in and take their seats. The boys were standing at the front of the class waiting until everyone was settled before beginning class. 

“Today we are going to talk about Demons,” Sam said to the class. “Specifically, yellow, white and black-eyed Demons.” The students fell silent.

“And before you ask, Demons are real,” Dean began. “Let’s address the elephant in the room. We saw the article this morning. We were going to teach you about this anyway, but we figured it would be better to target it now. Sam and I have been to Hell. You will find out why. We are going to give you the basics about Demons, then we will finish with our memories.” 

“But before we go in, some notes first.” Sam stepped forward.  The whole class groaned as they pulled out their parchment and quills.

“There’s a hierarchy of Demons,” Dean began. “They can usually be differentiated by the colour of their eyes, although they can hide it. The lowest level of Demons have  black eyes, and mid-tier Demons like Azazel, will have yellow eyes, and the top-level Demons will have white eyes, like Alastair and Lilith.” Dean frowned at the names. “Other low-level Demons are Crossroad Demons, which we will be covering later. They have red eyes”

“Open your books to page 72,” Sam instructed and began to read “Demons are malevolent spiritual entities that are the direct opposites to Angels. They are created from human souls that have endured extensive torture in Hell. In this process, they become corrupted, extremely evil, and also very powerful. Similar to Angels, they require a vessel to walk the Earth, though they are able to roam in their smoke form.”

“According to the tier of Demon, there will be different powers. White-eyed Demons are more powerful than both black, red and yellow-eyed demons. Demons have certain powers, such as possession, super strength, and telekinesis at the lowest level. Yellow and white-eyed are more powerful.”

“Possession is not a good feeling,” Sam told them. “I was possessed by a Demon briefly once. I had lapses in my memory in which the demon made me do horrific things. We eventually figured it out and performed an exorcism to make it leave. This brings us to protection. There are certain amulets that if you wear it can protect you from being possessed, as well as our method.” He pulled the collar of his robes aside to show the pentagram tattooed on his chest.

“We both got these tattoos to prevent any more possessions after what happened to me.” Not that it worked, he thought, thinking of Lucifer. “Holy water will burn a Demon. Placing salt on entrances like windows and doors will prevent entry by Demons.”

“Wicked!” A student smiled. “We can get tattoos?”

“Really? That’s the thing you take from this lesson?” Dean scoffed under his breath. “No, you can’t have tattoos…”

“Today, we are going to study one Demon in particular, Azazel.” Sam disregarded his brother’s comment. “We have had the most… contact with this Demon. He’s the Demon that started all of this. He murdered our mother when we were kids, and our father raised us as hunters to eventually track him down, and kill him. Which we eventually did. He was a yellow-eyed Demon.” Dean explained, keeping a neutral expression.

“From what we know about Azazel a week before his arrival, the geographical area has cattle deaths, electrical storms and temperature fluctuations. His presence also made clocks stop and electrical devices go haywire,” Sam started.

“He was impervious to Holy Water unlike normal Demons, possess human hosts but can also exist in a disembodied form, and had the ability to possess a reaper.” Dean put in.

“His abilities included creating and manipulating fire, telekinesis, and the ability to cause internal bleeding and grievous wounds with his mind,” Sam added.

“He has superhuman strength and is capable of making deals like your typical crossroads demon, and he’s also impervious to a salt barrier.” Dean finished. “So long story short, it was almost impossible to kill him.”

“Does he have any weaknesses?” Malfoy smirked. “How did you kill him? And if you killed him, then why are we talking about it? It’s not like we’ll be fighting him any time soon.”

“He does have weaknesses, iron stings nasty and this,” Sam said and then pulled out the Colt and slid it across the front desk. “This is called the Colt, and it’s a gun that can kill almost anything. But you have to have special bullets to use it.”

“As for your other questions Mr Malfoy,” Dean almost sneered the name. “We are talking about it because for every one thing we teach you about, there are probably thousands of other nastier pieces of work that haven’t been able to break out of Hell. And you never know what you’ll be up against in the real world.” Dean was very tempted at that moment to do what he threatened earlier but held back. 

“As for white-eyed demons, they include demons like Lilith and Alastair. Lilith was the first demon Lucifer created. Alastair was another one of the first demons. They are very similar but more powerful than the yellow-eyed demons,” Sam told them. 

“Today we have two memories to show you, both about Azazel. The first memory is an exorcism of a normal black eyed demon, and the second memory is the first time we tracked him down, and we realized he was possessing our Dad.” 

“So, I think it’s time to get started with the memories,” Dean said.

“Everyone, get in line,” Sam told the students, who got in line and entered the Pensieve.

The class appeared in a room. A woman was tied to a chair in the middle of a Devil’s Trap. Bobby, Sam, and Dean stood nearby.

“Are you gonna read me a story?” Meg mocked.

“Something like that. Hit it, Sam,” Dean ordered. Sam started reciting the exorcism.

“An exorcism? Are you serious?” Meg laughed.

“Oh, we’re going for it, baby,” Dean smirked. “Head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards.” Meg flinched in pain. Sam looked at Dean. Meg looked between the brothers.

“I’m gonna to kill you,” she hissed. “I’m gonna rip the bones from your body.”

“Wow…” Ron muttered.

“No, you’re gonna burn in hell. Unless you tell us where our Dad is.” Meg just smiled at him. “Well, at least you’ll get a nice tan.” Sam was still reading the exorcism. Meg began to shake in and gasped in pain. Sam stopped reading.

“He begged for his life with tears in his eyes,” spat Meg through her teeth. “He begged to see his sons one last time. That’s when I slit his throat.” Sam started reading again.

“For your sake, I hope you’re lying. Cause if it’s true, I swear to God, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!” Dean exclaimed. Sam continued reading. Meg started to show signs of being in pain again.

“Where is he?” Dean demanded.

“You just won’t take “dead” for an answer, will you?”

“Where is he?!”

“Dead!”

“No, he’s not! He’s not dead! He can’t be!” Dean yelled. “What are you looking at? Keep reading.” Dean saw Sam staring and snapped. Sam once again started reading.

“He will be!” Meg yelled.

“Wait!” Dean stopped Sam. “What?!”

“He’s not dead. But he will be after what we do to him.” The demon whispered.

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Dean hissed.

“You don’t.”

“Sam!” Dean commanded his brother to continue the exorcism.

“A building!” Meg blurted out. “Okay? A building in Jefferson City.”

“Finally,” Malfoy muttered in a sneer to his friends.

“Missouri? Where, where? An address!”

“I don’t know.”

“And the demon — the one we’re looking for — where is it?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know! I swear! That’s everything. That’s all I know.” Meg pleaded.

“Finish it,” Dean spat.

“What? I told you the truth!” Meg looked shocked and outraged.

“I don’t care.”

“You son of a bitch, you promised.”

“I lied!” Dean yelled. “Sam? Sam! Read!”

“Maybe we can still use her. Find out where the demon is,” Sam muttered to Dean.

“She doesn’t know,” Dean frowned.

“She lied,” scoffed Sam.

“Sam, there’s an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there. We’ve go to help her.” Dean told his brother. Bobby approached them.

“You’re gonna kill her,” he said.

“What?

“You said she fell from a building. That girl’s body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcize it — that girl is going to die,” he said in a sad voice.

“Oh no…” Hermione whispered.

“Listen to me, both of you, we are not gonna leave her like that,” Dean snapped.

“She is a human being,” Bobby replied.

“And we’re gonna put her out of her misery. Sam, finish it.”

Sam continued the final part of the exorcism. Meg threw her head back and screamed. The demon left her mouth in a cloud of black smoke. Meg’s body slumped forward, blood dripping from her mouth. 

“What happened to her?” Harry asked.

“She didn’t make it,” Dean frowned. “Demons like to treat their vessels as expendable.”
A few of the students shuddered at that.

The memory blurred and everyone appeared in a grubby shack that seemed to expand to accommodate all of them. There were three men, two of whom they knew, were the Professors. The other man looked older than the two, the students assumed it was John Winchester. 

“Well, this is fun.” John walked over to the window beside Dean. “I could’ve killed you a hundred times today, but this......” John let out a long sigh. “This is worth the wait.”

Dean tried to struggle, but he was pinned to the wall. 

The students observed that there were no restraints on him, this must have been the telekinesis they had been talking about. 

John looked over to him, his grin looking more like a sneer. “Your Dad, he’s in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit. He says ‘hi’, by the way. He’s gonna tear you apart. He’s gonna taste the iron in your blood.”

Dean grimaced. “Let him go, or I swear to God –”

“What? What are you and ‘God’ gonna do? You see, as far as I’m concerned, this is justice.” He comes over to Dean. “You know that little exorcism of yours? That was my daughter.”

“Who, Meg?”

“The one in the alley? That was my boy. You understand.” 

Dean rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What? You’re the only one that can have a family?” John’s voice became confused before clearing, and he smiled darkly. “You destroyed my children. How would you feel if I killed your family? Oh, that’s right. I forgot. I did. Still, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean glared. 

“I wanna know why. Why’d you do it?” Sam’s question brought the demon’s attention back to the younger brother.

“You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty, little Jess?” His tone was condescending.

“Yeah.” Sam glared at him. 

“You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him.” John looked back to Dean with a smirk, backing up towards Sam. “Been shopping for rings and everything.” His attention moved back to Sam. “You want to know why? Because they got in the way.”

“In the way of what?” Sam was fuming with anger, his hands would be shaking if he could move at all.

“My plans for you, Sammy. You… and all the children like you.”

The students looked to Sam, seeing the regret in his eyes. 

“Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh?” Dean forced a bored vibrato into his voice. “Cause I really can’t stand the monologuing.”

John walked back over to Dean again. “Funny, but that’s all part of your M.O., isn’t it? Masks all that nasty pain, masks the truth.”

“Oh, yeah?” Dean frowned, hating to be called on his bluff. “What’s that?”

“You know, you fight, and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don’t need you. Not like you need them. Sam, he’s clearly John’s favourite. Even when they fight, it’s more concerning than he’s ever shown you.”

Dean bit his tongue against the pain, it still hurt just as bad all these years later. 

“I bet you’re real proud of your kids, too, huh? Oh wait, I forgot. I wasted ‘em.” Dean just smiled at him and John looked at Dean. He stepped back and put his head down. When he looked back up, Dean suddenly yelled in pain.

Sam’s eyes widened as he realized Dean was being tortured. “Dean! No!

Dean started to bleed heavily from his chest. Sam struggled against the force pinning him.

“Dad! Dad, don’t you let it kill me!” Dean tried to get the attention of his father, asking him, begging him to fight back. But John just looked at him again and smiled. Dean started screaming in pain again.

“Dean!! No!!” Sam struggled against the invisible hold. Blood was flowing out of Dean’s nose and mouth from the torture. Sam struggled as hard as he could to break free. 

The students seemed to think there was no hope, even though they knew the Professors were still alive today.

“Dad, please,” Dean mumbled just before passing out.

“Dean!!” Sam yelled. 

 “Stop,” John whispered and Sam was suddenly let go. “Stop it.” Sam dove and grabbed the gun off the table. John turned to him, eyes yellow once again, and Sam aimed the gun at him.

“You kill me, you kill Daddy,” John grinned.

“I know,” Sam scowled. He fired the gun, shooting John in the leg. John fell down and so did Dean. Sam ran to his brother.

“Dean? Dean, hey? Oh God, you’ve lost a lot of blood,” Sam said, panic in his voice.

“Where’s Dad?” Dean whispered.

“He’s right here. He’s right here, Dean.”

“Go check on him.”

“Dean,” Sam tried to argue.

“Go check on him,” Dean gasped.

Sam got up and went to his father. “Dad? Dad?” he asked. John was lying motionless on the floor. His head suddenly snapped up.

“Sammy! It’s still alive. It’s inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son!” he said with great effort, clenching his jaw. Sam aimed the gun at John. “Do it now!”

The students’ eyes were wide with shock.

“Blimey…” Harry and Ron muttered together. Hermione was gnawing at her bottom lip. 

“Sam, don’t you do it. Don’t you do it,” Dean gasped from the corner. 

“You’ve gotta hurry! I can’t hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I’m begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!” John continued to beg.

“Sam, no,” Dean whispered again.

“You do this! Sammy!! Sam.....” John yelled. Suddenly, the demon left John’s body in a cloud of black smoke. It disappeared through the cracks in the floor. John looked at Sam accusingly, panting as he banged the back of his head against the floor in frustration.

The class was soon wrapped up without any other drama collecting the assignments and. Both Sam and Dean noticed that the students were very quiet today, no doubt from the article earlier. 

“Ms Granger, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley, could we see you for a few minutes?” Sam asked as the students gathered to leave. Dean noticed a jeering look from Malfoy. Glad the three were getting in trouble, or so he thought anyway. 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione approached the table. 

“Yes Sam, Dean?” Ron asked, using their names as they preferred. 

“We’re sure you heard about what happened at the Ministry the other day,” Dean began. The three nodded. 

“Good, we just wanted to make sure you were informed,” Sam confirmed. “We don’t want you guys in the dark.”

“Sam?” Hermione asked hesitantly, not used to calling a Professor by their first name. What is that noise?” she asked.

“Looks like it’s coming from the jar,” Ron pointed out. “What in the bloody hell is in that?” he said as he spotted something tiny and black trying to move the clear cup from the inside.

“Just a beetle I found,” Dean shrugged. “Was gonna let it out outside. But it looked kinda cool.” Hermione was already moving. She picked up the mug and quickly caught the beetle in her hand. Sam and Dean looked at her, confused. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“This isn’t an ordinary beetle. It’s Rita Skeeter,” she said in an annoyed voice. “See, Harry, Ron? Remember the markings?”

“Blimey,” Ron breathed. 

“Hold on… what’s going on?” Dean interrupted. “You’re telling me this is a person?”

“This is Rita Skeeter in her Animagus form,” Hermione explained. “She’s unregistered. She used to be a journalist for the Daily Prophet. She snoops on people in her beetle form. I found out about her and threatened to report her. Looks like she’s back to her old tricks,” she fumed. 

“You’re kidding right?” Sam mumbled.

“No,” Harry replied. “In my fourth year, she reported on the Triwizard Tournament. She reported a lot of lies about me. She’s always doing it,” he frowned. 

“Well, give her here,” Dean said. Hermione let the beetle scuttle into his hand. “Ms Beetle, you spy on us again, I’ll squish you. Capiche?” he threatened. He let the beetle down, and it scurried away rapidly. “Well, we can add talking to beetles to the list of weird shit we have done…” he said, more to himself than anyone else. Sam shook his head, exasperated.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 17 ^th October 2011

“I think we need to teach them about Hellhounds,” Sam said suddenly. 

They were sitting in their classroom, an hour before class started. Sam was sitting at the teacher’s desk, and making notes. Dean looked up in surprise from where he was standing. 

“What? Isn’t a bit early for that, Sammy?” he asked. Sam shook his head.

“Dean, these kids need to be taught what not to do as well as what to do. We need to warn them about what can happen if they make a deal. We just told them about Demons, and they saw the article. They need to know why we went to hell. It seems like a natural progression of events.”

“But why would they even need to know how to make one?” Dean asked incredulously.

“People make deals without knowing it all the time Dean,” Sam pointed out. Dean sighed.

“I get it… at least they know what they’re up against.”

“I’m guessing that we’re gonna show them my crossroads deal?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Sam replied quietly.

“We can’t show them me getting killed by the Hellhounds,” Dean said, “Kids shouldn’t see people dying like that.”

“I know Dean. I’m sure we can skip that part,” Sam said. “I read up on it. Apparently, if you focus while in a memory, you can skip ahead and skip to different people’s memories,” he explained.

“Oh right. I guess that could work. You’re right. The kids need to be warned,” Dean said, albeit frowning.

“Yeah, come on, we have to get ready for class,” Sam said, turning to the Pensieve. 

“Do you want to do it?” Sam asked. “We’re gonna have to explain what actually happened, with me dying, or do you want to show the memory?” 

“I don’t really want to, but alright. I’m gonna have to show my memory of making the deal anyway,” Dean replied as he opened Supernatural Beasts and Defence. He turned to page 142 and stared at the word Hellhounds in bold print. Something so simple, but the word sent a shiver down his spine. He pulled out the temporary wand and held it to his temple. He concentrated on the memory of those few days, his deal, and… death. He saw the silver strand come from his temple and swirl into the bowl.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered. 

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Hey, what do you wanna do later?”

“I dunno. Time to shine,” Dean muttered bitterly. Students filed in and sat quickly. 

“Hey guys,” Dean said with a lazy wave of his hand. Sam turned.

“Open your books and turn to page 142,” he said. 

“Hellhounds, sir?” Hermione Granger asked.

“Yeah, anyone know what they are?” Dean asked. None of the students answered.

“Well before looking at Hellhounds, you have to look at Demon deals,” Sam went on. “As we learned last week, red-eyed Demons are the ones who usually make deals. Demons deal with people for different things, wealth, love or raising a loved one from the dead.” A hand shot up.

“Yes?” Sam asked.

“People can come back from the dead?” the red-headed boy asked in shock

“People can be brought back by Demon deals that are normally done at a crossroads. An exchange of the person’s soul is taken for the deal,” Dean told the class. “They usually get around ten years, and Hellhounds come. They tear the soul from the body and drag it to Hell,” he said, the memory of the Hell dog’s claws ripping into him floating in his head. 

“We’re giving you these details to prevent a deal being made,” Dean went on. “The possibility could come up where you could make a crossroads deal, but we want to inform you of the crap it causes.” 

“We’d like to show you a memory. Sam, do you wanna elaborate on what happened?” Dean asked. Sam sighed.

“A couple of years ago, I was kidnapped by the Demon that killed our mother. He cursed me as a baby, along with several others. We were brought to an abandoned town and were made to fight to the death. The winner would lead a Demon army. Soon enough it was only me and a guy called Jake left. I fought him and knocked him out.” Well, I thought I did, Sam thought bitterly. “I heard Dean and our Dad’s friend Bobby calling. I was walking towards them and I felt pain and I didn’t remember anything after that.”

“Jake sneaked up behind Sam and stabbed him in the back, severing his spinal cord. He was dead pretty much instantly. I made a deal to bring him back,” Dean explained. Everyone was quiet, not daring to speak. “Now my deal was a bit different, I only got a year. Most people get ten years, but don’t let that make you think it’s okay to make one. You may think that ten years is a long time, but trust me it isn’t.” The students looked at each other nervously.

“Everyone get in a line,” Sam instructed. The students rose, getting in a single file line quietly. One by one they entered the Pensieve. When the boys joined their students, they were standing at a crossroads in the middle of the night.

Dean was alone in the centre of a crossroads, looking around. There was nothing but the Impala behind him. He was turning around impatiently. His face was drained of colour, hair a mess, clothes rumpled, like he wore the same clothes for a few days. 

“Oh, come on already. Show your face, you bitch!” he yelled. Suddenly, a beautiful woman in a black dress appeared.

“Easy sugar, you’ll wake the neighbours,” she said with a smile and her eyes glowed red before turning back to normal.  “Dean. It’s so, so good to see you.” She inhaled sharply. “I mean it. Look at you. Gone and got your family killed. All alone in the world. It’s too sweet. Excuse me, you’re gonna have to give me a moment. Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses.”

Sam scowled.

“That bitch,” he muttered. Dean grimaced.

“I should send you straight back to hell,” Dean said menacingly.

“Oh, you should,” the Demon said mockingly. “But you won’t. And I know why.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean challenged.

“Yeah. Following in Daddy’s footsteps. You wanna make a deal. Little Sammy back from the dead, and—let me guess—you’re offering up your own soul?”

Sam flinched.

“There are a hundred other Demons who’d love to get their hands on it. And it’s all yours. And all you got to do is bring Sam back. And give me ten years—ten years, and then you come for me,” Dean told her. The Demon smiled

“You must be joking,” she chuckled.

“That’s the same deal you give everybody else,” Dean protested.

“You’re not everybody else,” she said as she walked up to Dean. “Why would I want to give you anything? Keep your gutter soul. It’s too tarnished, anyway.” She whispered in his ear.

“Nine years.”

“No,” the Demon smiled.

“Eight.”

“You keep going, I’ll keep saying no,” she replied casually.

“Okay, five years. Five years and my bill comes due. That’s my last offer—five years or no deal,” Dean bargained.

The Demon leaned in for a kiss and then smiled. “Then no deal.”

“Fine,” Dean said simply.

“Fine,” she said walking away. “Make sure you bury Sam before he starts stinking up the joint.”

“Bitch,” Sam and Dean muttered together causing a few of the students to look at them curiously before turning back to the action.

“Wait,” Dean said, and the Demon stopped, smiling.

“It’s a fire sale, and everything must go,” she said softly.

“What do I have to do?” Dean begged.

“First of all, quit grovelling. Needy guys are such a turn-off.” She sighed. “Look… Look, I shouldn’t be doing this. I could get in a lot of trouble. But what can I say? I got a blind spot for you, Dean. You’re like a……… puppy. You’re just too fun to play with.” She sighed again. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll bring him back?” Dean asked.

“I will. And because I’m such a saint, I’ll give you one year. And one year only. But here’s the thing. If you try and welch or weasel your way out, then the deal is off. Sam drops dead. He’s back to rotten meat in no time. So, it’s a better deal than your dad ever got. What do you say?” Dean grabbed the Demon and kissed her to seal the deal.

“That was around the time I woke up,” Sam said. The scene shifted and Dean flinched a little.

“This memory will be edited a little, taking out the Hellhound’s attack. This was a year later when Dean’s deal came due. You’ll still be able to see what led up to it. That blonde woman was a Demon called Ruby. Well, we thought she was Ruby. We didn’t know that another more powerful Demon had forced Ruby out and possessed the same vessel.”

“The Hellhounds ripped me apart,” Dean told them, not sugar-coating it.

They were in a normal-looking home office Sam and Dean were spreading dust on the floor in front of the doors frantically, while Ruby watched. Loud barking sounds came from behind the door.

“Give me the knife, maybe I can fight it off,” Ruby urged toward Sam. Sam looked at her, a bit confused. 

“What?”

“Come on! That dust won’t last forever.”

Dean turned around and looked at them from behind Sam, eyes widening. After a few seconds, Sam held the knife out, offering Ruby to take it. 

“Wait!” Dean cried.

“You wanna die?” Ruby challenged, shooting a glare at him.

“Sam, that’s not Ruby. It’s not Ruby!” Dean yelled.

“When your deal is almost due you can see their true faces underneath the human they’re possessing,” Dean explained to the students’ curious looks.

Sam turned to Ruby, who raised her hand and quickly flung him into the wall, pinned, his feet a few inches off the floor the knife fell from his hand and clattered to the floor. Without looking, she flung Dean across the room, on top of a table, pinned too.

“How long you been in her?” Dean grunted.

Ruby’s expression changed, almost looking childlike. She looked down at her body with interest as she spoke.

“Not long,” she simpered. “But I like it. It’s all grown up and pretty.” Her eyes flashed fully white.

“Oh my…” Hermione whispered. “Her eyes….”

“And where’s Ruby?” Sam gasped out. Lilith’s eyes returned to normal.

“She was a very bad girl, so I sent her far, far away,” she said, tilting her head, a cracking sound reverberating through the room as she did.

“You know, I should have seen it before… but you all look alike to me,” Dean taunted. Lilith ignored him, walking toward Sam.

“Hello, Sam. I’ve wanted to meet you for a very long time.” She grabbed hold of his chin, forcing him to face her. She kissed him.

“Lovely…” Ron muttered. 

“Your lips are soft” she smiled. Sam moved his head away from her in disgust.

“Right, so you have me. Let my brother go,” Sam said, with a piercing glare.

“Silly goose,” Lilith teased. “You wanna bargain, you have to have something that I want. You don’t.”

“So, is this your big plan, huh? Drag me to hell. Kill Sam. And then what? Become queen bitch?” Dean gritted out.

“I don’t have to answer to puppy chow,” said Lilith nonchalantly. She walked away from Sam, toward the door. The loud barking had started again, fiercer than before. She put her hand on the doorknob.

“Sic ‘em, boy,” she smiled and opened the door.

The students were pale, and even though they didn’t see the rest as the room blurred around them, they knew it was horrific. Some of the students shuddered. 

The memory faded and blurred, and the students found themselves back in the classroom. The students returned to their seats, shocked by what they just witnessed. 

“Sorry about that guys.” Dean sighed.

“D-Dean, how did you get back?” Neville asked. 

“Well, this ties into what we’re going to be teaching you about soon. An Angel brought me back,” Dean explained. 

“An Angel, you have to be joking,” Malfoy snickered to his friends. 

“No Mr Malfoy, we’re not kidding,” Sam replied. “Just like Demons, Angels are real too. We didn’t believe they were real either at first. And you don’t want to piss one of them off either.”

“Then we started getting dragged into Angel business,” Dean frowned. “Long story short, an Angel pulled me from Hell. But we’ll talk about that next week okay?”

The rest of the class passed quickly, handing out new homework and collecting the previous week’s.

“Well, that was certainly interesting,” Harry commented as they left the classroom.

“I can’t believe they showed us that.” Hermione made a face. “It was painful to watch.”

“Think about them, they had to live through it.” Ron grimaced. “That Hellhound sounds like a right nasty piece of work.”

“And supposedly you can’t even see them,” Hermione remarked, pulling out her book and turning to page 142 and showed them the chapter head. “See? There is no pictorial reference in this book anywhere saying what the creature looks like.”

“Well, how in the bloody hell are we supposed to fight something we can’t see?” Ron asked.

“Maybe we’ll find out in training,” Harry shrugged his shoulders as they went into the Great Hall for lunch. “If there’s a spell to make them visible, Hermione will find it.” He smiled at Hermione.

The day flew by faster than Harry was expecting. At dinner, Hedwig flew to him with a note in her beak. Harry read the note, written in Dumbledore’s elegant script. The note invited him to a lesson that night before starting to burn at the edges. Harry let go of it at once, and it immediately burned up into a small pile of ash. Ron and Hermione looked at him worriedly, but, and, and, and, and he assured them that it was alright.

Later that night, Harry walked past the large gargoyle statue, up the steps and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Professor Dumbledore called. Harry entered.

“Welcome Harry,” he smiled in greeting. “I trust you are well since we last met?”

“Yes sir,” Harry replied.

It was a little under a week that Harry had been called to the Headmaster’s office. Harry was confused when Professor Dumbledore began with, not a memory, but a talk. Of course, Harry had seen the dreadful attacks on Diagon Alley, Ollivander’s disappearance, and the Ministry’s fall to Voldemort’s forces. He filled Harry in on the measures the Order were taking to combat this. It was a brief discussion, more to fill Harry in on everything, and tell him they would resume lessons next week. Harry informed Professor Dumbledore of the overheard conversation between Malfoy and Snape. He dismissed his concerns, saying he was not worried, and when Harry argued, he almost sharply insisted he knew more than Harry and was again, unbothered by the situation.

So here Harry was, a month and a half after his initial lesson, beginning his next. Professor Dumbledore invited him to sit.

“So Harry, in tonight’s lesson, we continue the history of Lord Voldemort, then Tom Riddle. You remember his excitement of coming to Hogwarts when I visited him. So he started like any other student, was Sorted into Slytherin House, and he quickly discovered the connection between his house and snakes. He showed off his Parseltongue to other students, although the staff were unaware. As far as anyone knew, Tom Riddle was a model student, and very talented.

“Sir, did you tell the other staff about what he was like at the orphanage?” Harry asked.

“No, I did not,” Dumbledore replied. “I was hoping he had grown from that behaviour. I kept a close watch on him regardless.”

“He made a lot of friends as he moved up in the school,” Dumbledore continued. “Although, I doubt he felt any affection for them. They were a mixture of weak seeking protectors, some seeking glory, and thuggish students looking for trouble. In time, they would become the first Death Eaters after they graduated Hogwarts. There were several notable instances when they were there, most serious of course was the opening of the Chamber of Secrets, of which Hagrid was wrongly accused. I have not been able to find many memories of him at Hogwarts. Most people are unwilling to talk about him. What I did find out was that Riddle was obsessed with his parentage. He searched in the Wizarding World for a trace of a Tom Riddle Sr, but never found him. He eventually realized his father would have never entered Hogwarts. I think this is when he dropped his original name. He began to look into his mother’s family, and eventually found traces of the Gaunt family. In the summer of his sixth year, he left the orphanage and went to visit his relatives. Now Harry, if you will stand.”

Both Harry and Dumbledore entered the Pensieve. It took Harry a moment to recall where he was, the Gaunts’ dishevelled shack. 

The room was dark and filthy, thick with cobwebs and mouldy, rotting food lay across the table, amongst crusted pots and pans. A man was slumped in an armchair by the fire, a candle at his feet, and jumped as a knock on the door woke him.

The door opened and a boy stood on the threshold, a lamp in his hand. He was pale, tall, and handsome; Lord Voldemort as a teenager. He looked around the room before him.

“YOU!” the man bellowed as he stumbled drunkenly at Riddle, his wand raised.

“Stop,” Riddle commanded in Parseltongue.

“You speak it?” the man stumbled to a stop.

“Yes, I speak it,” Riddle replied, entering the room. He looked disgusted, and maybe even a little disappointed.

“Where is Marvolo?” he asked.

“Dead,” the man replied.

“Who are you?” Riddle asked.

“I’m Morfin, ain’t I?”

“Marvolo’s son?”

“Course I am…” he trailed off, looking closer at Riddle and frowned. “You look like that Muggle. I thought you were him,” Morfin whispered.

“What Muggle?” Riddle snapped coldly.

“That Muggle that my sister fancied, who lives in the big house up the hill,” Morfin spit on the ground. “You look right like him. But he’s older now, older than you.” He swayed, still obviously very drunk.  

“Riddle came back?” Tom asked.

“He left her and serves her right. Marrying filth!. Robbed us, she did, before she left. Dishonoured us, the little slut.” Riddle moved forward and everything went dark.

Harry was suddenly in the Headmaster’s office again.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It went dark because Morfin did not remember the following events,” said Dumbledore simply. “He woke the next morning, with Marvolo Gaunt’s ring gone. Meanwhile, the Riddle family was found dead in their home. The Ministry knew it was a Wizards murder, and they knew a Muggle hater lived nearby, who had been imprisoned once already for his crimes against Muggles. They went to question him and Morfin admitted murdering the family.”

“He confessed?” Harry asked.

“He took Morfin’s wand and used it,” Dumbledore told him. “Murdered his Muggle family and went back to the shack to implant false memories in Morfin’s mind. It took some skilled Legilimency to get it out of him. You see, the Ministry can detect magic was cast, but not by whom. So when Morfin’s wand was found at the scene…”

Harry nodded in understanding.

“Now, there is one more thing I must show you,” Dumbledore said as he rose from his chair. They descended into the depths of the Pensieve again. 

They saw what appeared to be one of Slughorn’s Slug Club parties, which appeared to be coming to a close. Riddle stayed behind. Harry noticed Marvolo Gaunt’s ring on his finger.

“Look sharp Tom,” Slughorn told him. “You don’t want to be caught out of bed after hours. You are a Prefect after all.”

“Yes. Sir, I wanted to ask something.”

“Ask away boy,” Slughorn smiled.

“What do you know about Horcruxes?” Riddle asked. Immediately something changed. There was a strange fog in the room. Slughorn’s voice boomed through the room.

“I don’t know anything about Horcruxes, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did. Get out of here at once and don’t let me hear you mention them again!”

They were instantly back in the office again.

“What did that mean?” Harry asked. “Sir.”

“This memory has been tampered with,” Dumbledore explained. “I believe he is ashamed of what he actually told Riddle. Possibly to show himself in a better light. It was crudely done, as explained by the fog you saw. For the first time Harry, I will be tasking you with homework.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded.

“It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge his real recollections,” Dumbledore told him.

“Can you not use Legilimency? Or Veritaserum?” Harry asked.

“Professor Slughorn will be expecting both,” Dumbledore replied. “I do not want to risk him leaving Hogwarts by attempting again, or forcing it from him. So, that brings our meeting to a close. Good night Harry, and good luck.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 31 ^st October 2011

The morning was quiet as Sam and Dean slept on. Jess swooped into the room hooting cheerfully as she dropped something dark into Sam’s chest. She perched on his nightstand and waited for him to wake up. 

Sam groaned, his eyes opened. He yawned as the sound of hooting reached his ears. “Morning Jess.” 

She hooted again, looking very proud of herself. Ruffling her wings proudly, she flew to perch on his head. Sam chuckled scratching where he hoped was her chin and saw the dead mouse on his blankets.

“Oh great,” he muttered. “Did you bring me a present for Halloween?” Jess trilled excitedly as he picked it up by the tail. “Here. You can have it back. I’m not hungry this morning.”

Jess hooted again. She clamped the mouse in her beak and flew away through the open window.

“Well that woke me up,” Sam groaned as he stretched. I really need to find a stretching spell for this bed, he thought. He pulled the thick socks off his feet as the sheets were too small to cover him as well. 

He got up and walked into the bathroom. When he emerged, dressed in his winter robes, he looked out the window. It was a bright Saturday, the sun shining over the lush green grass. It was getting colder, so he pulled a scarf out of his wardrobe.  Not quite snowing weather, but Sam never did well in the cold.

Dean’s door opened, and he came trudging through the bathroom. “Heya Sammy. What was with all the noise?” 

Sam snorted, “Jess brought me a present.”

“What present?”

“A mouse… I woke up, and it was on my chest,” Sam answered.

“Ew…” Dean frowned. 

Sam shrugged, not too bothered. “The kids have their first trip to the village today.”

“Finally, I’ve been looking forward to this,” Dean rubbed his palms together.

“You just wanted to go to that joke shop,” Sam accused. “Do you always have to act like a child?”

Dean stared at him before answering. “Yes. It’s a gift.”

Sam turned his back on his brother with a roll of his eyes. 

“What’s with the scarf? Are you getting sick or something?” Dean asked. 

“No, it’s just starting to get cold. It’s meant to be 40° today,” Sam shrugged. 

“You’ve always been a wimp when it came to the cold. Remember those mittens Dad got you? You never took them off when you were a kid. I think you were like six or something.”

“Says the man who thought he was Batman for a year.” Sam retorted easily.

“You’re just pissy cause you broke your arm pretending to be Robin,” Dean grinned as he tied his shoes.

“You jumped off the shed first!”

“Not my fault you followed.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll give you that one.” Sam shrugged. “So how do you feel about chaperoning teenagers?”

“Aren’t most of the staff going?” Dean asked as they left their quarters. “How many students go?”

“Yeah, it’s third years and up. “Most people take up the opportunity. Be honest, you want to see Minerva let loose don’t you?” Sam smirked.

“I bet she’s a closet karaoke singer,” Dean whispered to Sam. 

“Oh God,” Sam laughed. 

“Oh, I just realized. It’s Halloween,” Dean changed the subject. His eyes shifted around the corridor as they walked. They took no notice of the students as they made their way through the castle.

They made it a practice to keep the relationship of student/teacher in check, keeping their distance was something both brothers agreed with early on. They needed to keep up professionalism. It wasn’t that they didn’t want the kids to like them; they did. Well, to a point. They were their teachers after all. 

But they saw so much of themselves in Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry, with the loss of his parents, reminded them of losing their loved ones. Hermione was clever like Sam and courageous like Dean. Ron showed bravery and loyalty far beyond his years that reminded the boys of themselves at his age. 

They walked down to the Great Hall wondering how a bunch of witches and wizards did Halloween.

“No Dean, I’m sure they don’t do trick or treating.” Looking at his brother with an incredulous expression, Sam sat down in his seat.

Breakfast went by in a quiet affair. The older students were alight with chatter, discussing the trip to Hogsmeade. Sam and Dean left the castle a little after nine a.m., walking toward the castle gates. 

“You’re right, it is pretty cold,” Dean shivered. 

“I guess we’re just not that used to it,” Sam shrugged. 

“I suppose you’re right,” his brother agreed. He looked thoughtful. “You know, it’s strange being here. All the magic crap aside, it’s weird not being home.”

“We haven’t got a home, Dean.”

“You know what I mean! It’s strange not seeing Bobby or Cas. Hell, I’d even settle for Rufus at this point. Cranky old bastard.”

Sam laughed. “I guess we could go back to the States for the holidays.”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

Dean jumped when Minerva appeared before them seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Do you have to keep doing that?!” Dean grabbed his shirt over his racing heart. 

“Hello Sam, Dean,” Minerva smiled, and Dean swore he could see a glint of mischief in her eyes. “How are you finding Hogsmeade?”

“We just got here,” Dean pointed out. 

“It goes without saying that you two are representatives of our school and are to set an example for the students.” She told them as they continued down the snowy pathway.

“Of course,” Sam nodded.

“We’ll behave,” Dean told her, only mildly offended.

“Good,” replied Minerva briskly as she walked away.

“Wait, Minnie!” Dean called. Minerva swirled round to face him with a stern look. A few of the younger students nearby tittered in amusement. 

“Mr Win-”

“Aren’t you worried about letting the students loose?” Dean interrupted. “With the Ministry fallen and all?”

She walked back up to them, a strange mix of concern and sadness in her eyes. “With the world in the state it is right now, I think these children need all the limited freedom we can give them.” 

“You’re right,” Sam nodded. “We just want to make sure they’re safe. That’s all.”

“Of course,” Minerva agreed. “The protections on the castle have been extended to Hogsmeade. We have more staff attending this visit than usual, for added protection. Which is why the two of you are here. I hope the trust is well-earned?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Sam nodded. Minerva nodded and walked away again, excusing herself. 

At this point, the scenic village of Hogsmeade came into view. To their surprise, the rooftops and cobblestone streets were covered in a thick layer of crisp white snow. Their footsteps made soft crunching sounds as they neared the vintage-styled cottages. 

“It’s Halloween… Isn’t it a little early for snow?” Dean looked at his brother, ignoring the chattering of the surrounding students. 

“It is a little higher up than the castle is. It was snowy here when we got off the train,” Sam reminded him. 

“Oh yeah, and the obvious. Magic!” Dean wiggled his fingers in Sam’s face.

Sam laughed. “You’re an idiot.”

The brothers walked down the pavement slowly. Dean pulled Sam into the Quality Quidditch Supplies store and Sam had to talk him down after attempting to buy an autographed photo of the Holyhead Harpies.  

“No, Dean.” Sam frowned. 

“But they’re pretty to look at.”

“Stop being a perv,” Sam frowned. “Come on, I need some stuff from the bookstore.”

They walked a little further down the street and into a bookshop called Tomes and Scrolls. Dean frowned, “Only you would go to a fun place like this and drag me to a bookstore.”

“Come on,” Sam rolled his eyes. “If you can stick it out we can go grab a beer, okay?” he said as if bribing a child.  

“Whatever,” Dean shrugged. They walked into the bookstore. It wasn’t long before they were leaving, a few books in Sam’s hands. Dean grumbled.
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked as they walked together down the street. 

“You know what is really bothering me.” Dean pulled his cloak closer around him.

“C’mon,” Sam muttered. They ducked into a small pub and found a table. Sam went and bought them both a Firewhiskey and walked back to the table. Dean’s brows were furrowed, looking a little tense.

Sam looked around wondering how much attention Dean was going to draw with his negative behaviour. He sat down beside his brother.

“I’m not in the best mood either,” he began, his voice understanding. 

“Yeah, well…” Dean shrugged. 

“I know it’s not an easy week, man.” Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “But we’ll be okay, we’ll get through it. We always do, just this year without booze.” Dean huffed and downed his shot of whiskey. “You heard Minerva.” Sam reminded him. “We promised her.”

“I know, I know,” Dean shrugged him off. “To Jessica,” He raised his glass.

“To Mom.” Sam clinked his glass with Dean’s. They both downed their glasses. Neither brother noticed Harry Ron and Hermione enter the dingy pub and sitting nearby. It wasn’t a huge seating area, so they ended up a few feet from the Professors. 

“Blimey that Lavender girl won’t give up….” Ron grumbled. “Between her and Ginny snogging Dean…” 

Dean’s attention was grabbed by his name being called, he turned to see the trio and smiled at them. His fingers raised in a weak wave.

“Sorry Professor, different Dean,” Ron stuttered.

“It’s okay Weasley.” Dean nodded. “I’ll give you a pass.” 

“Are you enjoying Hogsmeade Professors?” Hermione smiled weakly.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Sam smiled. Dean took another gulp of his whiskey. “You got girl troubles, Weasley?”

Ron went beet red. “N-No.” Hermione scowled at her cup.

“Leave the kid alone Dean,” Sam chided. 

“What? I’m just asking.” Dean held his hands up in mock surrender.  “Okay, okay.”

They dissolved back into their own groups. Sam pulled out the book he bought in Tomes and Scrolls, leafing through the pages.

“Anything good in that book?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” the younger brother replied as he turned another page, eyes focused on the book.

“Like what?”

“There’s some new stuff in here. A lot of stuff on Banshees.”

“Aren’t they Irish?”

“Legends come from Scotland too,” Sam told him. He started to read. “A female death omen spirit that manifests to herald approaching death with wailing. Many people have described the terrible wail, which precedes a death, and certain families are traditionally believed to be followed by the Banshee. The word is sometimes also used to denote assort of demon, but in Nordic folklore, the banshee is always benevolent.

The banshee of legend is actually a disembodied soul, either of someone who in life was strongly attached to the family or who hated all its members. So, if she loves those whom she calls, the wail is a soft, tender, soothing chant, intended to either give notice of death’s proximity or reassure the one destined to die, or to comfort the survivors. But if instead, the Banshee during her life was an enemy of the family, the wail is more like the scream of a fiendish ghost,  delight over the coming fatal agony of one of her foes

“Sounds like a chick you don’t want to piss off. Okay,” Dean nodded. “Yeah, I think Dad had something in the journal about them.”

“I think Bobby would like this book.”

“We should probably get more books from him, nevermind us giving him more. Guy is a hoarder when it comes to books. He could open up an occult bookstore in that crappy junkyard.”

“That’s true,” A short witch came around to offer them refills on their drinks.

“Thanks,” Sam smiled. Dean nodded in gratitude. 

Dean watched the kids filter in and out of the dimly lit room, ordering mugs of butterbeer. 

“Did you notice all the boarded-up businesses, Sammy?” Dean asked as he took another sip of whiskey.

“Yeah, it looked like nearly 60 per cent if I had to guess.” Sam looked around and saw Hermione looking at them curiously. “Hermione, do you mind me asking about the shops here?”

“A few of the businesses have closed. It’s fear of You-Know-Who,” Hermione told them.

“Diagon Alley has gone very similar. People don’t want to leave their homes.”

“They’re all scared.” Ron shrugged. “At least that’s what Fred and George told Mum.”

“I’m not surprised,” Dean spoke in a grave tone. “I get it. Understandable that people want to protect their families.”

“George said they wouldn’t close, but Mum threatened to come down there and take them out by force if necessary.”

Sam nodded. “I get it, but if it isn’t safe-”

“They want to keep everything normal.” Harry cut him off. 

“It’s best to avoid panic,” Dean agreed with Harry, looking at Sam. “We’ve done the same thing.”

“In what way Professor,” Hermione looked at them quizzically. “If you don’t mind me asking?”

“Well, there’s not one instance that comes to mind. But sometimes it’s better to keep acting like things are normal rather than to have people running around causing more chaos.”

“When we were hunting Azazel, we had to try to keep calm at times and not let emotions get in the way. It didn’t always work,” Sam told them. Dean looked at his brother, surprised he was revealing personal information, but let it slide. The kids nodded, absorbing the information. 

“Oh,” Sam suddenly spoke after a few seconds. “I couldn’t find much about it, but what is the deal with the old house on the hill?” he asked.

Hermione and Ron smirked a little, remembering their third year. “It’s called the Shrieking Shack,” Hermione explained. “The people who live in Hogsmeade say it’s haunted. They say they hear screaming coming from the shack fairly often.”

“Haunted? Maybe time for a field trip, Sammy,” Dean grinned. 

The trio looked at each other. “What?” Sam asked. 

“The shack isn’t actually haunted,” Hermione told them. “Do you remember Professor Lupin?”

“What has he got to do with it?” Dean asked and then stopped. “Wait… does this have to do with his… you know….”  

“Furry little problem?” Harry asked with a slight smirk. “Yeah. It does. I’m surprised you know about that.”

“We’re surprised you know,” Dean pointed out. “And really, ‘furry little problem’?” The three students laughed.

“My dad was friends with Professor Lupin when they were in school. He, my godfather, and Peter Pettigrew-” Harry grimaced at the name before continuing.” They found out about his… condition, and they didn’t shun him for it. Professor Dumbledore planted the Whomping Willow as a guard. A passage can be opened up to the Shrieking Shack if you know what to do. He used to sneak out there once a month to transform on his own. When my Dad and Sirius found out, they became unregistered Animagi to help him during his transformation. Werewolves are less likely to attack animals than humans, and also they wanted him to feel less alone.”

“Wow,” Dean said, impressed. “They sounded like good people.”

“They were, most of them.,” replied Harry irritably.

Before Dean could press Harry for more information, they were interrupted as Luna and Neville came through the door, spotting Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They sat at their table.

“Oh, hey,” Neville smiled. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

Luna smiled brightly. “Hello, Professors. Enjoying the Halloween holiday?” 

“Yeah, it’s nice over here. Good change of scenery,” Sam agreed. 

“How did you celebrate in America? I’ve heard things are a little different over there.” 

“Most kids dress up in costumes and go to peoples houses and knock, asking for candy,” Dean replied. “It’s called trick-or-treating.”

“We also do that,” Hermione pointed out. “Well, Muggle families do. It doesn’t seem to be a wizarding tradition.”

“Well, we don’t go breaking and entering people’s houses…” Ron rolled his eyes. “There aren’t many Pureblood families left now. Most of the Muggle traditions have blended in with our own.” 

“Makes sense I guess.”

“Dressing up sounds interesting,” Luna mused. “What would you be?”

“Well, the last one, I barely remember. I was four, and I dressed up as Batman,” Dean explained. “That was the last time we did it. Our mom died a few days later and normal life was forgotten about I guess.” Dean’s words were strictly factual, not looking for sympathy or pity. It was just the way things were. 

Harry looked down, Dean and Sam didn’t seem to notice as Luna asked them another question. Hermione touched his shoulder gently and turned her attention back to Luna and Sam. Harry excused himself to go to the bathroom.

“Is Harry okay?” Sam asked.

“This is a hard time for Harry too,” Hermione said softly.

“His Mum and Dad died on Halloween night,” Ron told them.

“Sh… Crap,” Dean remembered. “I forgot.”

“He really doesn’t talk about it much.” Hermione offered quietly. 

“Yeah, it’s never easy,” Sam frowned. “We understand. Our Dad’s death is still pretty hard to get over.” 

Dean hid his grimace, thinking back. The sound of the crowbar hitting the metal of the Impala’s trunk reverberated through his mind.

“There are worse things.” Neville frowned. 

“You’re right,” Dean agreed, knowing exactly what the boy was talking about. Although, there was no way he was going to bring it up. The kid wouldn’t appreciate the sympathy, he could tell. 

“I know Neville,” Luna replied mournfully. “My mother died trying to create her own spells.” She looked to Dean and Sam to explain. “She liked to be experimental, you see, but one day one of them went badly wrong. I was nine.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said compassionately.

“It’s okay,” Luna said in her soft lilted voice.

At that moment, Harry came back into the room and sat down. He looked perfectly fine as if nothing happened. 

“So are you going over the curriculum Professor?” Luna asked Sam.

“Please Luna, we’re outside of school. You can call me Sam.” Luna nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, Sam got a new book,” Dean teased. “Highlight of his week that is.”

“Dean…” Sam frowned. Ron laughed a little, reminded of him dragging Hermione out of Flourish and Blotts after discovering a new book on Ancient Runes. 

“Just stating facts is all,” Dean shrugged. 

Neville cleared his throat, looking around to see if anyone was listening. “Is there any truth to that article in the Prophet, sirs?”

Dean and Sam looked at each other and frowned. They were going to have to answer the question sooner or later. They’d brushed on the topic of course in class, to quell any rumours.

“The thing you have to know Neville is I made a deal to save my brother it was a stupid decision. But I’d do it again. In a heartbeat, no hesitation. That article tried to say that we were tainted somehow by Hell. We were affected, sure, but it didn’t change who we were.” 

“We still put our shoes on the same way you do,” Sam smirked. “Unless there’s a magic spell for that.”

Hermione laughed.

“Point is, we had good intentions. I wanted to save my brother. Sam fought the devil and saved the world. Ended up in Hell for his trouble,” Dean continued. Sam shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry, Sammy.”

“It’s fine,” Sam answered.

“So the big guy… the horns and pitchforks.” Ron tried to play off his surprise.

“Yeah.” Sam grimaced. “The real deal. My brother’s point is that we’ve made mistakes, but we try our best.” His words were still calm, but internally begging for a subject change.

“You had to make hard decisions for the greater good.” Harry nodded.
“Pretty much,” Dean nodded. “Actually, we should probably ask, what do you guys think of the classes?”

“I find them quite enjoyable.” Luna smiled. Dean and Sam nodded.

“It’s all a little intimidating to be honest.” Neville frowned.

“I know it’s getting a little intense now, but you have to know what’s out there,” Dean told them.

“I don’t mean any offence, I was just thinking it’s maybe a lot for some people. Trust me, I know what lengths You-Know-Who will go to.”

“Neville, you can handle it. You did great in the classes last year. You went with us to the Ministry,” Harry told him. 

“But you faced him,” Neville pointed out. 

“You should be confident with your abilities kid.” Dean slapped the boy on the back. “You’re a badass.”

Neville looked surprised but gave a weak smile. 

“I think the classes are fine,” Harry told them. “The memories are a good idea. Shows it’s not fun and games.”

“That’s the effect we were going for,” Dean grinned. 

“It’s almost like stepping into one of the portraits at Hogwarts,” Luna chirped as she sat back down after ordering another round of Butterbeer.

“In what way?” asked Harry, confused.

“We can’t physically interact with anything; it’s like a three-dimensional portrait.”

“Sure, Luna,” Ron nodded, only to placate her. 

The sky was beginning to get dark, so both teachers and students picked up their things and began the walk toward the castle.

When they arrived, they were met with the Great Hall decorated for the Halloween Feast. Cakes and pies were spread all along the tables, and Dean dug in with relish. Sam laughed to himself as he watched his brother.  It was an amazing meal, and they both had more than their fill. 

Later that evening, they retreated to their rooms, all the while Dean complained of a stomach ache.

“Dude, shut up. It’s your own fault. You shouldn’t have eaten that last slice of pie.”

“Worth it!” Dean said dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air as he swung the door to his room closed. Sam shook his head. Someday he would knock some sense into his brother, but apparently, today was not the day.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 2 ^nd November 2011

The clouds were overcast, dull grey and threatening rain to come. The morning was cool as the brothers left the castle. It was strange how fast they were getting used to this new life in the magical world. Just a few days ago, orange pumpkins floated above the House Tables in the Great Hall amongst the candles as they celebrated Halloween. 

But none of that compared to the worst day on the calendar: November 2^nd. All too soon, they awoke on that dreaded morning. This date would go down in infamy in the Winchester’s lives as the day their mother was ripped from them. And not only that, it was the same day that Sam lost Jessica. Sam grieved the most over the loss of Jessica. He was only a baby when his mother died. Jessica was murdered on the 22^nd anniversary of Mary Winchester’s demise. He finally understood why his father started this insane crusade for his mother. He felt guilty for all the fights and petty crap he put his family through. Even though Dean said he forgave him for all of it, he still felt bad that he wasn’t able to get his father’s forgiveness. That would haunt him for the rest of his life.

They got up and washed with dread, slowing their motions to a near crawl. It was always a tough day for them. Nothing about that changed since coming across the Atlantic.

“Mornin,” Dean yawned as they met up outside their rooms. He looked about as bad as Sam felt. His hair was in a mess, his eyes were bleary and red-rimmed. He muttered something about allergies as Sam appraised him.

“Hey,” Sam replied. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like shit,” Dean shrugged. Sam wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t slept well himself. But they didn’t talk about it, at least not until they were done with the day and could shut themselves in at night. “I called Cas last night. He actually answered for once.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked as they walked toward the Great Hall. 

“Well I figured since we’re doing Angels in class today, I guess we should get the info from the source. Guest speaker sort of thing.”

Sam stopped short, causing Dean to come back to him. “Wait, you want Cas to talk to the kids?” Sam asked incredulously.

“He’s the expert,” Dean shrugged casually, resuming his walk down to the Head Table.

“Dean, we’ve barely heard from him since August. He’s busy fighting a civil war up in Heaven, I don’t think he can come to play schoolteacher right now.”

“He agreed,” Dean said as they sat down. “Said he could spare a few hours. He said he was sorry he was away for so long,”

“Okay, if you think that’s a good idea…” Sam laughed a little. “Why does he always answer for you?”

“I dunno,” Dean shrugged and smirked. “Maybe that ‘profound bond’ thing he mentioned.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dean replied, internally smacking his forehead. Shut up dipshit…. He thought to himself. Death’s words echoed in his head. ‘Don’t scratch the wall….’

They were quiet after that. Both choosing to avoid the elephant in the room. They walked to their classroom in silence after breakfast. 

Dean sent out a quick prayer to Cas as the students began to file in. 

“Morning Professors,” Hermione said, still wary of calling them by their names.

“Good morning Miss Granger,” Sam nodded at her.

“Good morning  Sam.” She opened her pack and took out her book, quill, and parchment.

“What will we be studying today?”

“You’ll see.” Dean smiled mischievously.

“This can’t go well….” Ron frowned as he and Harry entered the class with the rest of the students. Sam waited till everyone was in their seats, in the groups they assigned, until he began speaking.

“Can anyone tell me about Angels?” Sam looked at them.

“They wear white frilly gowns and play the harp?” Seamus smarted off from the back row.

Just then a gust of wind and a flutter of wings erupted from behind him disrupting the parchment and toppling over a stack of books.

“I don’t own a harp,” the man in the trench coat tilted his head. Focusing his attention on the scared boy in the fourth row. “Angels are warriors of God. Only a few have taken interest in being a harpist.” His face relaxed into a smirk, enjoying his private joke, as he walked down the aisle up to the front of the class where Sam and Dean were waiting.

Sam looked at the mess the Angel’s dramatic entrance caused. “Well, there goes all the organizing that I spent a week doing.”

“Yes, Angels are warriors of God, who you rebelled against,” Dean explained as he regarded the Angel.

“Everyone, I would like to introduce you to Castiel, our special guest lecturer for today.” Sam stepped aside to give Cas the floor.

“Hello, human offspring.” Cas formally addressed the class. There was an uncomfortable silence. Dean had to turn his back on them to hide his embarrassment. He groaned in frustration and smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “Just like AA Cas…”

Sam cleared his throat and tried to gain control of the class again. “OK, does anyone else have a theory about Angels? Anyone besides Seamus?” Hermione raised her hand. “Yes, Miss Granger.”

“Angels are supernatural beings found in Christianity, Judaism, Zoroastrianism, and Islam. Angel comes from the Latin word Angelus, which came from the Greek word, Angelos, meaning ‘messenger’. 

“Wow, kid, keep this up, and you could be teaching the class for us,” Dean smirked as he turned to Cas. “She pegged you good,” Cas said nothing but stared straight ahead. The students were still a little intimidated by him. It was one thing to see creatures in memories, but to physically have one appear in their classroom on near command. 

“Well done,”  Sam smiled. He started to read from the book. “According to these religions, Angels typically act as messengers from God. Though superhuman, Angels can assume human form and according to the Hebrew Bible, often appeared to people in the shape of humans of extraordinary beauty. They are also described as pure and bright and are said to be formed of fire and encompassed by light. Angels are thought to possess wings and are depicted that way in Christian, Jewish, and Zoroastrian art where they are also commonly depicted with halos. In the Bible, Angels are a medium of God’s power; they exist to execute God’s will. Angels reveal themselves to individuals as well as to the whole nation, to announce events, either good or bad, affecting humans.”

“An Angel is created by God, able to manifest physically on Earth by occupying what is called a vessel. That is the safest and most conventional way for Angels to interact with humans on Earth as their true voices and appearances can kill,” Cas informed the class. “We are not omniscient beings, although our knowledge, especially that of Archangels, is extensive. Our power exists in the form of Grace, which can be removed to be reborn human. Removing Grace, however, is said to be very painful.”

“There are many levels of Angel. I am a Seraph. We are a higher class, above normal Angels. There are higher ranking Angels than myself, known as Archangels. There are four. Michael, Lucifer, Raphael and Gabriel.” Castiel did not speak any more about the four Archangels; there was no need. One was dead, and two others still imprisoned in the Cage.

Lavender raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“Lucifer, do you mean the devil? Sir…” she asked in a slightly trembling voice.

“Lucifer, yes, he was a fallen Angel. Cast down by God for threatening his human creations,” Cas continued. 

All the students, not just Hermione, were frantically scribbling down every word. “They never paid that much attention to my lectures,” Sam complained quietly.

“That’s why Sammy, they’re lectures. Hard to believe you can even make hunting boring,” Dean muttered back. “And don’t piss off the nerd Angels.”

“We can be killed, but it is difficult. We can be killed using an Angel Blade,” Cas told the class as a long silver pointed blade unsheathed from his sleeve and he showed them. There were murmurs amongst the class.

“The true form of Angels can vary. Some are considered beautiful; others have four faces and six wings.”

“What is your angelic form then?” Cas looked to see who asked, and it was a pale blonde sickly-looking boy.

“What is your name?” Cas asked him.

“Draco, Draco Malfoy.” The boy stood with a smug smile on his face.

“Well, then Draco, Draco Malfoy, my true Angelic form is the size of the Chrysler Building.” 

The students looked at one another questioningly.

“It’s a building in New York City,” Sam explained. “Sit down Mr Malfoy. Please continue Castiel.”

“Show off,” Dean snickered quietly. 

“Most Angels prefer to appear to humans as a brilliant white light, which can burn people’s eyes out sometimes. So, for those reasons, we prefer to communicate with humans through dreams or vessels.”

“So why don’t you demonstrate for us?” Malfoy sneered.

“I wouldn’t be able to show you, as I said earlier. I would melt your eyes from your sockets…” 

“Bloody brilliant!” a Gryffindor student laughed as Malfoy sat down. 

“OK Cas, I think they get the idea. Let’s continue on with what we are going to show them.” Dean patted Cas on the shoulder before he could continue telling the student’s creepier stories about Angels.

“Okay, so that leads up to the memories, I’m going to explain how we met Cas,” Dean told the class. “Anyone any ideas?”

Hermione’s hand shot up. Dean pointed to her.

“You mentioned in the Hellhound class. An Angel rescued you from Hell,” she told him

“Yep, gold star for you,” Dean grinned. 

“Dean, I don’t see how an astronomical object is a reward,” Cas frowned. 

“I’ll explain later Cas,” Dean shook his head. “When I went to Hell after my Demon deal, Cas was the one to pull me out of the fire. Literally.” 

“My Garrison was tasked with the mission of rescuing Dean Winchester from Hell. We descended into Hell and fought the Demons to get to Dean. We lost a few Angels to the armies of Hell in the process, but I managed to pull him from the Pit and I rebuilt his body once on Earth and brought him back to life.”

Sam turned to the Pensive. “Yes, the memory we are going to show you is how we first came to know Castiel and some of the times that he got us out of some tough scrapes.”

“More like saving our asses,” Dean muttered as he stepped in first followed by Cas and the students. Sam brought up the rear.

Dean and Bobby were in an old barn, and hundreds of sigils covered the walls.

“You sure you did the ritual right?” Dean asked and Bobby gave him a look.

“Sorry. Touchy, touchy, huh?” he grinned. 

Sam chuckled. “Shut up.” Dean frowned.

Suddenly a loud rattling shook the roof. Dean and Bobby armed themselves with shotguns and took their positions at the far end of the warehouse.

“Wishful thinking, but maybe it’s just the wind,” Dean said sarcastically. The door burst open and Castiel entered. The light bulbs above his head shattered in a shower of sparks as he passed them. As he approached, Dean and Bobby both opened fire, but the shots had no effect. Dean took the demon-killing knife as Castiel got close.

“Who are you?” Dean demanded.

“I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” Castiel replied simply.

“Wow... quite the entrance Castiel.” Neville smiled.

“Thank you, small human,” Castiel smiled.

“Oh my god...” Sam wiped his face with his hand.

“Yeah. Thanks for that,” Dean said casually.

Dean reared back and plunged the knife into Castiel’s heart. Castiel looked down and pulled it out, dropping it to the floor. 

“You tried to stab him with the knife?” Sam said with a raised eyebrow.

“It was not effective,” Cas replied. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Duh…”

Bobby attacked and without looking, Castiel grabbed Bobby’s gun and used it to swing him around. Castiel touched Bobby’s forehead with his fingertips and Bobby crumpled to the ground.

“We need to talk, Dean. Alone,” Castiel said quietly. Dean crouched over Bobby, checking his pulse. He glared at Castiel.

“Your friend’s alive,” Castiel told him.

“You tried to hurt him?” Hermione looked to the Angel in alarm.

“Not intentionally...” Castiel shrugged.

“If anything Bobby got a good night’s sleep that way.” Dean offered in the Angel’s defence.

“Who are you?” Dean shot back, ignoring his words. 

“Castiel.”

“Yeah, I figured that much, I mean what are you?”

“I’m an Angel of the Lord.”

“Get the hell out of here. There’s no such thing,” Dean shook his head.

“This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith,” said Castiel, stepping closer. Suddenly, lightning struck outside, and behind Castiel were the shadows of two giant wings behind him. The lightning faded and his wings disappeared.

“Wow,” Lavender Brown whispered. She bit her lip nervously as she moved closer to Ron. Ron shuffled away.

“Some Angel you are.,” Dean deflected. “You burned out that poor woman’s eyes.”

“I warned her not to spy on my true form. It can be… overwhelming to humans, and so can my real voice. But you already knew that.”

“That is why we do not look upon an Angel’s true form.” Cas looked at the students.

That stopped Dean short. “You mean the gas station and the motel. That was you talking?”

Castiel nodded. “Buddy, next time, lower the volume.”

“That was my mistake. Certain people, special people, can perceive my true visage. I thought you would be one of them. I was wrong.”

“And what visage are you in now, huh? What, holy tax accountant?” Dean mocked. Castiel looked down at himself. “This? This is… a vessel.”

“You’re possessing some poor bastard?” he exclaimed.

“He’s a devout man, he actually prayed for this.”

“Well, I’m not buying what you’re selling, so who are you really?”

“I told you.” Castiel frowned.

“Right. And why would an Angel rescue me from Hell?”

“Good things do happen, Dean.”

“Not in my experience.”

The students looked to Dean, worried about his grim outlook on life.

“What’s the matter? You don’t think you deserve to be saved?”

“Why’d you do it?”

“Because God commanded it. Because we have work for you.”

“God?” Ron muttered sceptically.

The memory changed. They saw Dean leaning against the Impala. The radio came on, very scratchy.

“Dean!” Castiel’s voice sounded from the car’s radio. Dean leaned in the driver’s side window.

“Cas?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Castiel replied. Dean got back in the car.

“You gotta stop poking around in my dreams. I need some me time,” Dean said.

“Listen to me very closely. This isn’t a dream,” Castiel replied. Dean looked around.

“Then what is it?” Dean said, confused.

“Deep down, you already know.” Dean stayed still for a moment, his eyes widening.

“I’m dead,” he breathed.

“Condolences,” Castiel replied.

“Where am I?” Dean asked.

“Heaven,” Castiel told Dean.

“Heaven?” The students murmured in amazement.

The memory morphed, and suddenly, they were in a bar. A man was behind the counter and Sam and Dean saw themselves sitting there with a drink each.

“That was our friend Ash. He died in an accident a few years ago,” Sam explained.

“Good God, the Roadhouse. It even smells the same,” Dean said, smiling.

“Bud, blood and beer nuts. It’s the best smell in the world.” He walked behind the bar and snapped his fingers. “How ‘bout a cold one? Up here? No hangover.”

“So… no offence-” Sam began.

“How did a dirtbag like me end up in a place like this? I’ve been saved, man. I was my congregation’s number one snake handler,” Ash interrupted. Sam smiled.

“And you said this was your heaven?” Sam asked.

“Yup!” Ash grinned. “My own… personal…” Ash shotgunned his beer while Sam and Dean watched with eyebrows raised. He burped.

“And when the Angels jumped us? We were…” Sam trailed off.

“In your heaven,” Ash finished.

“So, there are two heavens?” Sam guessed.

“No. More like a hundred billion. So, no worries, it’ll take those Angel boys a minute to catch up,” Ash grinned.

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“Don’t think about it too hard guys. It’s like how the portraits work in the castle.” Sam explained for the confused students. 

“See, you gotta stop thinking of heaven as one place. It’s more like a butt-load of places all crammed together. Like Disneyland except without all the anti-Semitism,” Ash explained. Dean and Sam still looked confused.

“Disneyland?” Sam asked.

“Mm-hmm. Yeah. See you got Winchester land. Ash land. A whole mess of everybody-else-lands. Put them all together: Heaven. Right? At the centre of it all? Is the Magic Kingdom. The Garden.”

“So, everybody gets a little slice of paradise,” Dean stated.

“Pretty much. A few people share—special cases. What not,” Ash said.

“What do you mean ‘special’?” Dean asked.

“Oh, you know. Like, uh, soul-mates.” Silence met his statement. Dean and Sam didn’t look at each other. “Anyway. Most people can’t leave their own private Idaho’s.”

“But you ain’t most people,” Dean pointed out with a grin.

“Nope. They ain’t got my skills. Hell, I’ve been all over. Johnny Cash. André the Giant. Einstein. Sam, that man can mix a White Russian. Hell, the other day? I found Mallanāga Vātsyāyana.”

“Who?” Sam asked.

“He wrote the Kama Sutra. Huh, that boy’s heaven? Ah, sweaty. Confusing,” Ash laughed.

“All this from a guy who used to sleep on a pool table,” Dean replied.

“Yeah. Now that I’m dead, I’m living, man, a whole lot more,” Ash smiled as the memory faded.

They exited the memory, and the students went to their seats.

“As you saw,” Dean began. “Everyone does get their own slice of Heaven. At the centre of it all, there’s the Garden. You relive your greatest hits.” 

“Any questions?” Sam asked. A hand rose.

“Yeah?”

“How did you end up in Heaven in the first place?” Seamus asked.

“We were shot by hunters,” Sam replied simply. “The Angels brought us back afterward.”

The students were very quiet after that.

The Great Hall was buzzing with conversation later that day; the students and teachers were still talking about the Halloween feast. Minerva congratulated Filius on the beautiful decorations and Hagrid looked positively giddy over his large pumpkins that were still on display in the Great Hall.

But the boys couldn’t appreciate the room, they were locked in their own memories after their classes were done. Barely hanging on, they kept thinking if they could make it for a few more hours, then they could fall to pieces. Neither was in a mood for eating. This was a hard day for both brothers, and they wanted things to be as quiet as possible. But when had any of their plans actually worked? As soon as they entered the Great Hall they saw Snape glaring at them from the Head Table. Sam noticed his brother’s reaction to the man. Dean also wasn’t in the mood to be interrogated by anyone.

“Why do I have the feeling that this is going to end badly?” he asked rhetorically.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to start anything unless he does,” Dean muttered darkly as he cracked his knuckles and psyched himself up like he was getting ready for a fight. Sam sighed and followed Dean to the head table.

“Professors.” Dean greeted them with a smile.

“Good afternoon Sam, Dean” Pomona greeted them brightly. The boys smiled at her, a little forced. Dean and Sam sat, lifting a glass and said solemnly and quietly. “To Mom.”

They clinked glasses. They heard Snape give a small scoff. Today, that was enough to set Dean off. This emo drama queen had finally pushed him over the edge.

“What is your problem man?” Dean snapped at Snape.

“I have no problem man.” Snape narrowed his eyes at them, mocking his tone of voice.

“Well, you must have something twisting your emo panties in a twist.” Dean retorted.

“Because everyone else has welcomed us here with open arms except you, therefore you must have a problem with us.”

“Dean, stop it.” Sam tried to restrain him, but Dean shook him off. Snape put his fork down and turned to face them. 

“Some of us actually work to provide these students with a quality education teaching them fundamental skills that they will use in the future, not frolicking in the past fighting bogeymen.” He glowered. There was a whoop coming from the Slytherin table.

“We are teaching these kids practical skills that won’t get them killed on the battlefield,” Dean replied hotly. “In case you hadn’t noticed Voldemort is massing an army against you!”

By this time both men were standing and had an audience of not just the staff, but the students as well. The entire Great Hall fell silent. “Or does the great and mighty Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor already know that?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to a Muggle like you!” Snape hissed.

Dean looked back at his brother and then turned back to Snape. “I’m no different from you.”

Snape scowled. “We are nothing alike, you swine! Besides, what proof do we have that you two aren’t with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and are trying to undermine Hogwarts from the inside?”

“How dare you.” Sam cut in before Dean could respond. “We were asked to come here by your people.” Dean’s eyes widened in surprise, not expecting Sam to jump to his defence.

Something changed in Snape’s expression, as he gave a sudden smirk. “Interesting day for you two, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean growled at him. 

“Severus….” Minerva eyed him warily. “Sit, please.”

“Curious that the two women in your lives met their untimely demise in quite a similar way, and on the same day as well.” Snape sneered. 

“How would you know that? We didn’t tell anyone about-” Sam was about to mention Jess, but was interrupted by Dean shoving his chair back into the wall.

“Shut the hell up,” Dean moved to leave. Albus watched the scene, calm, ready to intervene if needed. “And you didn’t answer my brother.”

“We all have secrets, Mr Winchester….” Severus regarded them both with cold black eyes.“It only takes a little bit of prodding to uncover them all. The mind can be like an open book.”

“Are you poking around our heads?” Dean glared. His blood turned to ice in his veins. His mind immediately went to Sam. The wall was very unstable. He already had one close call while Dean was with him. But how many other headaches was Sam hiding? And now he knew that Severus could just go poking around wherever he wanted? 

“Severus, that is quite enough,” Dumbledore interrupted. “Sam and Dean are my guests. I will not have them harmed. I will speak to you later.” Snape gave a curt nod and sat down. 

The chatter resumed and soon the hall was abuzz with voices. Dean tried to calm down, tried to control his anger, tried to remember that as Albus said, they were guests. He tried, but it was so damn hard. Dean and Sam didn’t stick around long after that.

“That bastard. Are you sure you’re okay?” Dean asked again.

“I’m fine Dean,” Sam replied. 

“He could have cracked the damn wall. Maybe we should shag ass and go back home.” Dean fumed.

“And leave the kids defenceless? You know we can’t do that,” Sam frowned. “It’s over now. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Dean looked over at him.

“Yes!” Sam growled. “Dammit, I’m fine okay?” He slammed the door to his room in Dean’s face.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 6 ^th November 2011

Dark grey clouds littered the sky, the rain threatening to rear its ugly head. Dean pulled his scarf a little closer around him, holding back a shiver. Though the weather was depressing it couldn’t dampen the buzz of excitement. It was almost like electricity jolted through the crowd that surrounded Sam and Dean. The students were talking amongst themselves excitedly. Dean and Sam walked toward the Quidditch Pitch.

“This should be fun,” Sam noted as they sat down in the stands with the other teachers. Both brothers made a point not to look at Severus Snape, sitting at the end of the teacher’s stand, Horace Slughorn by his side.

Dean glowered as he looked over at Severus, then he noticed Albus looking over at him, nodding with a smile. Dean nodded back, before sitting down beside Sam. His mind drifted back to four days ago. He’d needed assurance that it wouldn’t happen again. 

After he checked to see that Sam was asleep in his bed, Dean walked through the darkened corridors. Other than the occasional snoring coming from the sleeping portraits, the halls were eerily quiet. Only the sound of his footsteps met him as he walked. The Gargoyle was in sight. Out of nowhere, a wild cackle pierced the air and the torches in the corridor that he was in went out. “Great….” He frowned, trying to pull out his wand. “Thanks, Peeves! What was that damn light spell again? Lumin, something? Oh, right, Lumos!”

The tip of his wand illuminated and Dean stepped back in shock when he saw the face of Albus in front of him, looking quite amused.    

“Dammit!” Dean stepped back. “Why do you keep doing that?!”

“It keeps the staff on their toes.” Albus smiled.

“I can see that,” Dean nodded. “Can we talk?”

“I figured you were coming to see me. Would you like to step into my office?”

They walked up the stone steps and into the office. Albus gestured for him to sit, and Dean plonked himself into the chair.

“What can I help you with Dean?” Albus asked, he rested his elbow on the table and tented his hands under his chin, looking at him through his half-moon spectacles.

“We need to talk about your DADA teacher.” Dean tried to keep his tone casual. “What he did today was not okay… I’m sure you saw the Prophet article, but it’s true, all of it.”

Albus nodded but did not speak.

“We both spent time in Hell. Sam, more recently. He spent a year locked in a Cage with Lucifer himself. It screwed his head up. We found a way to hold the Hell memories back.”

“The wall, I heard you mention it at breakfast.” Albus nodded.

“I never mentioned anything about it this morning,” Dean frowned. 

“I apologize,” said Albus delicately, careful of how to proceed. “Severus and I are what is known as Legilimens. The study of egilimency allows a witch or wizard to navigate through a person’s mind and interpret one’s findings.”

“So you two can read minds? You heard me thinking about it, didn’t you?” His voice was ever so slightly accusatory. 

“I do apologize for the inconvenience. It should never be used as an implement of torture or harm.” 

“Sam’s mind is fragile at the minute. The wall could last a lifetime. Could. If it crumbles, he could die. I’m not taking that risk.” Dean said in a determined voice. “The last thing he needs is for the two of you running loose in his head. So please, no poking around in his head.” He tried to sound respectful, but the anger at the DADA Professor was still burning inside. 

It took all Dean’s strength not to shoot the bastard in the few days since Snape invaded Sam’s mind. Despite the fact that he hadn’t really done any damage, it was the fact that he was even looking that pissed Dean off the most. How fucking dare he poke around in their heads? And never mind all that, who knew what this could have done to Sam? What if it knocked some memories loose? Dean didn’t know how much prodding the wall in Sam’s head could take,  but too much would spill the darkest secrets forward. There was no way in hell that he was risking that. Not a chance. Of course, he badgered Sam, resulting in a few sharp words from the younger brother.

And Sam wasn’t lying. He felt fine. Sure, Snape was poking around in his head, but mind-reading wasn’t that dangerous. Dean was just overreacting. Still, they decided staying away from Snape was for the best, or else the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would end up with a bullet in his brain, no questions asked. 

Of course, even the prospect of an exciting Quidditch match didn’t keep the students from discussing the brothers again after the article. Whispers of their mother’s murder travelled around the school as gossip, much to the brothers’ chagrin. They tried to ignore it as they took their seats.

“Hello again you two,” Minerva greeted with a smile. “Fine day for a match.” They heard a soft laugh and looked to see Pomona looking quite amused. 

“Minerva can be quite…. Ah… competitive,” Pomona smiled. “You’d want to see what she did to Severus one time when he let a Slytherin blurt a Ravenclaw.”

“Blurt?” Sam asked.

“He locked his broom handle with another player and tried to steer him off course,” Filius chimed in, amused. “Minerva was furious.”

“Of course, poor sportsmanship is not appreciated,” Minerva said briskly.

“So how does this game even work?” Dean asked.

“Oh, of course, you don’t-” Minerva began. “Each team has seven players; three Chasers, two Beaters, a Keeper, and a Seeker. There are three balls; a Quaffle, a Bludger and the Golden Snitch. You see these hoops?” she asked, pointing to the three fifty-foot high golden poles with hoops on the end. 

“Yeah,” Dean said.

“The Chasers will throw the Quaffle to one another, to try to get it through one of the three hoops. Each goal is 10 points,” she told them. “Oh, here we go,” she smiled, looking down at the pitch. Dean and Sam followed her gaze and saw the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs walking out on the pitch. The referee, Madam Hooch, raised her wand to her mouth and spoke. Her voice was amplified across the pitch.

“Captains, shake hands.”

They spotted Harry, who approached a boy who they recognized as Zacharias Smith, a sixth year. 

The whistle sounded, and they watched as all the players rose into the air. 

“So, how does this work? The Chasers try to get the Quaffle through the hoop to get points?” Sam confirmed, reminding Minerva of her forgotten explanation.

“Oh! Yes, of course. The Keepers guard the goals and try to stop the Quaffle from going through.”

“Okay, so like soccer,” Dean muttered. 

“Do you see the small dark balls flying around the Pitch?” Both brothers nodded. “Those are Bludgers. They try to knock the players off their brooms. Two beaters have bats to try to protect their side from them.” At that moment a Bludger whizzed over their heads after being knocked off course from hitting a Hufflepuff Chaser.

“Seriously?” Dean asked, surprised. “Being knocked off the broom at fifty-foot high in the air is part of it?”

“It can be a little dangerous, yes, but we have precautions,” Minerva assured.“Madam Pomfrey is always on standby.”

“Have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?” Sam asked.

“Never at Hogwarts. We’ve had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that,”

“Like when young Mister Potter broke his arm.” Pomona nodded. “Then that nutter Gilderoy turned it into jello….”

“Jello?” Dean asked, afraid to hear the answer.

“Lockheart was the DADA Professor in Potter’s second year. He thought he could heal his arm, and accidentally removed the bones from his arm instead.”

“And he was a Professor here?” Sam asked with a wide eye as Ginny scored a goal for Gryffindor. 

“COME ON MAXINE!” Pomona yelled at her team’s Keeper, then she turned to Sam. “Yes, we were all a bit surprised when Albus brought him on staff.”

Minerva gave a tight frown but didn’t say anything.

“So is that what some of the students meant by the job being cursed?” Dean asked.

Filius looked at him, surprised.

“I looked into it. Not one DADA teacher has lasted longer than a year since the 80s,” Sam replied. “We heard rumours.”

“Sammy does his homework.” Dean grinned. 

“Yes, I do,” Sam rolled his eyes. Minerva tried to contain herself as Ginny scored another goal, she looked over to Pomona who was going red in the face. 

“Let’s see if Potter made a good choice with Coote and Peakes. Shame the Weasley twins left… They were the best Beaters the Gryffindor team has had in years.”

“Okay, so how do you win?” Dean asked.

“That’s where Potter comes in. Potter is our Seeker. The Seeker has to weave in and out of all the players to catch the Golden Snitch. See the way he’s darting around?” she said. Sam and Dean looked around to see the small blur that was Harry Potter zooming around the Pitch in what looked like an erratic fashion, darting this way and that. “Potter is trying to catch the Snitch. Once the Snitch is caught, the game ends. Quidditch matches have been known to last hours. I think the record is actually six months. It’s very small and fast, which makes it hard to catch. The team’s Seeker who catches it gains their team 150 points. Most of the time, the team that catches the Snitch wins, but not always. Potter has been on the team since his first year. It’s unusual, but he has a talent. Fine Seeker, like his father.”

Minerva looked positively giddy as she continued to watch. It was a side of her the boys never saw before. They could hear a soft voice from the commentator’s box that echoed across the Pitch.

“That’s Cadwallader of Hufflepuff with the Quaffle. He had a fight with Ginny Weasley in the match last year when she flew into him. I think it was on purpose. He was being quite rude about Gryffindor- Oh look! He’s lost the Quaffle. Ginny took it. She’s very nice… I like her.”

By the end of her rambling, Dean and Sam were laughing. Filius was chuckling, and Minerva pinched the bridge of her nose. They watched as Ginny threw the Quaffle toward the goals, and it sailed past the Keeper. 

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Luna announced. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors cheered, eliciting boos from the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs.

“Dude,” Sam nudged his brother and pointed to the commentator box. Dean looked, expecting to see Luna standing in the box. It was Luna, but her head was covered in a pointed hat, topped with a stuffed lion’s head. She tapped the hat with her wand and the lion’s head let out a roar. 

“Wow…” Dean laughed. “That’s kinda weird but cool.”

They focused their gaze on Harry, watching as he dove through the Chasers. There was a sudden cheer as Ron Weasley blocked an attempted goal by Hufflepuff. 

“Are they singing?” Dean asked suddenly, looking at the scarlet Gryffindor stand. 

And sure enough, they were. At the top of their lungs, they were belting out a lively tune.

‘Weasley is our King,

Weasley is our King,

He didn’t let the Quaffle in

Weasley is our King.

Weasley can save anything,

He never leaves a single ring,

That’s why Gryffindors all sing:

Weasley is our King.’

The brothers smiled and let out a cheer. They could see Ron giving the cheering crowd a bow.

They could see the grin on his face from where they sat.

“Who would’ve thought Weasley would turn out to be such a good Keeper, though I suppose it’s in his blood,” Minerva commented after he blocked another goal. “Along with his twin brother’s and Ginny, their older brother Charlie was on the team when he was in school.” 

“Oh,” Dean nodded. 

“He’s had a big improvement since last year,” Filius noted. 

“He’s charting his own path.” Minerva nodded, looking at the boy circling the Gryffindor goals. “No longer riding on Miss Granger’s coattails on schoolwork, and confident enough to step off Mr Potter’s shadow.” She smiled, proud of her student. 

Dean smiled. “You’re a good egg, Minnie.” Minerva looked away at the compliment.

“My name is Minerva,” she replied, as much as she tried to sound stern, she did not sound a hundred percent angry.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Dean grinned. They turned their attention back to the match. 

Sam and Dean watched Harry take a sudden dive and his hand extended. The announcement was made. “Potter has caught the Snitch. Gryffindor wins!” Luna exclaimed. The Gryffindors erupted into loud cheers. 

“We won, Sammy!” Dean yelled with the other students. “We won!” 

Sam laughed at his brother’s excitement. 

“What? This is kinda cool. I’m not getting my ass up there but yeah.”

When most of the staff and students were gone, Sam and Dean walked onto the Pitch. 

“Hey Harry, good game,” Dean called as he saw him talking to his teammates. 

“Thanks, Professor.” Harry smiled back. “What do you think of Quidditch?”

“It’s interesting.” Sam smiled.

“You’re pretty good at it, I hear,” Dean said as Ron approached. “Good job Weasley.” 

“Thanks,” Ron smiled,

In the changing rooms not long after, the team were filling out. Hermione entered, twisting her scarf in her hands.

“Harry, you shouldn’t have done it,” she said, determined. 

Harry tugged on his robes with a curious look to her. “Done what?”

“You know! Felix Felicis! You spiked Ron’s drink this morning.”

Ron came up to them, his cheerful face falling a little. “You gave me the lucky potion? I mean it makes sense. The weather was so good and everything…”

“No, I didn’t,” Harry replied with a grin. He dug in his pockets. “I wanted Ron to think I’d done it. I faked it when I knew you were looking.” Sure enough, the bottle was still full of the golden liquid, the cork sealed with wax. 

Hermione looked at him, mouth agape.

“You did it because you felt lucky,” Harry told Ron. Ron turned to look at Hermione.

“‘You spiked Ron’s drink this morning!’” He imitated her voice, ending it with a sneer. “See, I can save goals without your help, Hermione!”

“I never said you couldn’t. Ronald, you thought that you were given the potion too!” But Ron was already gone, storming up towards the castle. 

“Uh…” Harry said awkwardly, scratching his head. Well, his plan had definitely blown up in his face. “I think they’re having a party in the Common Room, Shall we go?”

“You go!” Hermione snapped and stormed out.

A few minutes later, Harry entered the Gryffindor Common Room.  Cheers greeted his entrance and he was soon surrounded by people. He was pulled this way in that, congratulations coming from everyone. He just managed to get out of the way of the Creevy brothers without getting his picture taken. Eventually, he managed to reach Ginny, who was smirking. Her smirk made his insides feel like a Bludger was set loose in his stomach.
“Hey,” he smiled.

“Are you looking for Ron?” She asked with a grin. “He’s over there. Hypocrite.”

Harry followed her gaze and saw Ron. His arms were wrapped around Lavender Brown, kissing her deeply, a crowd around them cheering. Harry’s eyes widened. “Wow…. Um…. Okay.”

“It looks like he’s eating her face, doesn’t it?” Ginny frowned, still angry about his outburst a few weeks before. “But I suppose he’s got to refine his technique somehow. After all the crap he gave me about Dean,” she scowled. “Anyway, good game, Harry.” She patted his shoulder and walked away. 

He watched her leave and out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a glimpse of bushy brown hair. Harry squeezed his way through the crowd and through the portrait hole, though it took a while to get there.

“Hermione?” Harry called, but no one answered him.

He continued to look and heard quiet crying. He pushed open the first door he tried; an empty classroom. There Hermione was, sitting on the teacher’s desk. There was a small ring of chirping birds over her head, circling. 

“Oh, hello, Harry,” she sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I was just practising.”

“Yeah… They’re fantastic.…” said Harry. There was some truth. He was impressed at what she could pull off in this emotional state. He had no clue what he could say to her. That Ron was an idiot? Before he had a chance to say anything, Hermione spoke in a brittle voice. 

“Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations.” She looked at him when he didn’t say anything, she crossed her arms with a glare. “Don’t pretend you didn’t see them. He wasn’t hiding it.”

Suddenly the door opened. Ron stumbled inside, pulling Lavender with him. He was laughing, which suddenly cut off when he saw Ron and Hermione.

“Oops,” Lavender giggled. She slipped out of the room, the door closing behind her. 

Hermione was glaring at Ron, and he was refusing to do the same. Her eyes were like ice.

“Hi Harry, wonder where you got to!” Ron said, breaking the tense silence. Hermione got off the desk and approached Ron.

“Lavender is waiting for you,” she said in a quiet voice. “She’ll wonder where you are.” Her voice trembled ever so slightly. She turned on her heel and went to leave. Ron relaxed, shoulders slumping. He was grateful she didn’t yell at him. 

“Oppugno!” a voice shrieked.  The boys jumped and looked at Hermione, she had her wand pointed at Ron. The birds over her head suddenly flew like bullets out of a gun straight at Ron. He yelped and tried to protect his face. The birds pecked and clawed at his skin. Harry ducked out of the way. Hermione left. 

“Get off me!” Ron shrieked.

Hermione slammed the door shut and broke into a hurried sprint down the hallway. Her eyes were obscured with tears. Suddenly she felt something very hard as she ran into it. She stumbled back and opened her eyes. 

“Woah,” Dean Winchester said. “Careful there.” He saw the tears in her eyes and immediately looked concerned. “What’s wrong Hermione?” He asked. 

“N-Nothing,” Hermione gulped, wiping her eyes hurriedly with her sleeve. “I-I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” replied the Demonology Professor simply. “Was someone being a dick to you?”

“Really Professor. I’m sorry. Ron and I. We just had a row. That’s all. I-I have to be getting back to the Common Room. It’s almost curfew.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Dean said uncertainly. He let her go. He watched as she continued down the corridor, uttered a quiet password to the Fat Lady, and disappeared out of sight.

Dean frowned with concern for the young girl, knowing she must be at a sensitive age now.

He turned and heard movement out of one of the classrooms. The door opened. Harry and Ron emerged and stopped short when they saw the hunter. “Bloody Hell….” Ron’s eyes widened. Dean noticed there were tiny cuts on his face.

“Oh, hi Dean,” Harry said, looking at the portrait and realizing they would have to go through Dean to get there.

“Hey,” Dean replied. “I saw Hermione just a minute ago. She said there was a fight between her and you Ron?”

“Well… sort of….” Ron frowned. 

“Ron just kissed another girl. Hermione didn’t react well.”

“No shit Sherlock,” Dean muttered and Ron and Harry looked sheepish. “I thought that was the girl you were talking about in Hogs Head. Anyone can see she likes you. I’ve only known her for a few months. You’ve known her for how long? Six years?”

“But she kissed Viktor Krum!” Ron said petulantly.

“Uh… who?”

“He’s a Quidditch player. A famous one. He came over for the Triwizard Tournament two years ago.”

“So, a jock?”

Ron looked at him dumbfounded. “Basically, yeah.” Harry nodded.

“So you’re going to hold that over her for two years?” Dean frowned. “Come on, Ron. Look, a woman back home? Lisa, we dated years ago, but she went and had a son. I didn’t hold that against her. People make mistakes, that’s what makes us human,” Dean explained. “Also, she’s a free woman. And you’re sixteen. No rush.”

“What did you do when you were sixteen, sir?” Ron mumbled.

“I was kissing girls in janitor’s closets,” Dean matched his attitude. “But I hadn’t got a mom who would kill me if she found out. Don’t give your mom a heart attack okay? She’s a nice lady.”

“Okay, sir…” Ron replied.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 28 ^th November 2011

The Great Hall was filled with chatter. Dean and Sam sat in their seats at the Head Table. 

“The owls are late today,” Minerva noted as she looked at her silver pocket watch. 

“Weird,” Sam replied. He rubbed at his eyes with a yawn. 

“Are they usually late?” Dean frowned over his coffee. 

“Sometimes, but not often,” Minerva replied as she drank her tea.

“Huh….” Dean frowned. As if on cue, the owls began to fly in. Jess swooped into the Great Hall towards Sam and Dean. She perched on Sam’s shoulder 

“Thanks, Jess,” Sam smiled as she dropped the Daily Prophet in his lap.

“Are you still reading this crap?” Dean asked.

“Know your enemy Dean.”

“Guess you have a point,” the elder Winchester replied as he shoved some waffles in his mouth.  

“Would you at least eat a grapefruit or something?” Sam asked, grabbing a piece of toast and putting jam on it. 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“There are natural sugars. Not just processed crap.”

“Yeah,” Dean rolled his eyes, “they suck.”

“At least I’m not going to keel over from a heart attack by the time I’m fifty,” Sam shot back.

“Hey, my plan is to go naked, tied up in some sex dungeon. And I’d be happy with that,” Dean muttered back.

“You are disgusting,” Sam frowned. 

“And you’re a nerd….” Dean matched his tone. “But you don’t hear me complaining.”

“That’s all you do!”

“Details, Sammy.” He saw Snape looking over at them and Dean nodded with a smug look on his face.

“Crap, Dean, look,” Sam said after a few moments. Dean looked at what he was pointing to. In bold letters were the words ‘WANDMAKER FOUND DEAD’ in the corner of the front page. 

“Shit…” He looks up to see the students and the other staff looking at each other worriedly. Some of the students were talking amongst themselves, reading the article. Albus stood up and walked out of the Great Hall. Sam scanned over the article.

Sources from an anonymous source reported the finding of Garrick Ollivander this morning. Ministry officials upon investigation, found the famous world-renowned wandmaker’s body just after three o’clock this morning. The investigation is still ongoing. 

Garrick Ollivander was a master of his craft, made wands for witches and wizards across the world. He was the last proprietor of Ollivander’s Wand Shop, established in 382 BC in Diagon Alley. Originally a stall set up by an ancestor of the Ollivander family, the stall, which became a shop, remained in the family since, producing the finest family of wandmakers Britain has ever known. He is preceded in death by his daughter, and he leaves behind his wife and son. The future of the famous wand shop is still unknown. 

“What’s that, the third death in the paper this week?” Dean frowned. “He’s really starting to pick people off…” Earlier in the week, Dean and Sam’s Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class was interrupted by Pomona, who pulled Hannah Abbott from the lesson. Only later did they find out that her mother died that morning. Murdered by Death Eaters, Aurors suspected. Hannah left, understandably inconsolable and did not return. Pomona later told them that she had been pulled out of school and would not return this year. 

Minerva wiped her eyes with a small white cloth, “It won’t be long before they try to come here.”

“That won’t happen.”

“Perhaps it would be best for us to call a meeting of the Houses in their dormitories?” Snape looked at Minerva pointedly. 

“That’s a good idea, Severus,”  Minerva replied. “I’ll talk with the Gryffindors after breakfast.”

The chatter died down after the papers were delivered to the students. Most of the kids there got their wands from Ollivanders. His shop was a comfort in the few shops that were still open in Diagon Alley. Without it there it would be another dark reminder of Voldemort’s handiwork. 

Breakfast was a quiet affair and the students went to their classes sluggishly.

“Hey guys,” Sam greeted the class when the time came. Dean gave a casual wave of his hand and a smile. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed Hermione walking away from Harry and Ron, sitting with Parvati. Sam didn’t think much of it at first because Parvati was Hermione’s partner, but then he remembered Dean telling him about talking to Ron about Hermione. Sam wondered if Dean shouldn’t have meddled, but he supposed Ron deserved it. He looked to where the young boy was sitting, his red hair a dead giveaway. Ron was looking down, twiddling his quill between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Today we’re going to study Ghosts,” Dean said. There was a little murmuring among the class. A Slytherin put up his hand.

“We know about Ghosts.”

“The Ghosts you and I have met are very different,” Sam told the students. “We know they are harmless. They also cannot affect the living world.”

“The Ghosts we meet are deadly,” Dean continued. “There are a lot of different types, some of which we’re covering today.”

“So, does anyone have a definition for a Ghost?” Sam asked. Harry put up his hand.

“Yes Mr Potter?” he asked. 

“It’s an imprint of a person after they die. They were either afraid to die or they had some connection to the location they haunt,” Harry answered.

“Pretty much,” Dean smiled. “Ten points to Gryffindor.”

“A Ghost is the spirit of a deceased person that, for some reason or another, was unable to pass on to the next life, or whose rest had been disturbed. Ghosts are neither good nor evil, as their behaviour is ultimately dictated by who they were in life and how they died. There are many types of Ghosts,” Sam read from Supernatural Beasts and Defence.

“When people die, they are met by Reapers, which we will tell you about later. Reapers essentially touch a dying person, causing death. Sometimes, a person doesn’t want to go to the afterlife and wants to stay on Earth. So, they stay, or that person has unfinished business.” Dean said. 

“This is where the differences start to come in, there are a lot of beings that could be put under the umbrella term of Ghost,” Sam explained. He moved to the chalkboard and began to write the word GHOST. Underneath, he wrote two headings ‘Harmless’ and ‘Harmful’. Under the left, he wrote, ‘Death Echo, Death Omen and Revenants’ in a list. On the Harmful side, he wrote ‘Vengeful Spirits, Poltergeists and Buruburu.’

“We’re going to start with the harmful side. It seems like a lot, but some of these are not complicated. We’re gonna start with Vengeful Spirits.”

“Just going to add something here,” Dean spoke up. “The majority of these ghosts have the same weaknesses and are killed in a similar fashion. In the hunting community, they are known as pretty easy hunts, more or less a milk run.”

“Vengeful Spirits are ghosts, who have had something wrong done to them in their lives. It’s usually what killed them. It causes them to remain after death, to try and avenge themselves. Over time, they slowly become obsessed and act violently, harming innocent people. They can also be summoned to hurt people. Sometimes their vengeance can spread on to others, who had nothing to do with them, but have, or are doing something that is similar to their death,” Sam explained. The students begin to scribble down notes. 

“To kill a Vengeful Spirit you must find the body, salt and burn it. If the body is already burned then the Spirit is possessing an object. Once you know what object it is possessing then you salt and burn that,” Dean continued. “You can use several things to protect yourself. They can be repelled by salt and iron. If you put a line of salt across a doorway entrance, they can’t cross it, like Demons.”

“Poltergeists are spirits, but they seek recognition and attention. Much like our resident headache Peeves. It would just want chaos for the sake of it. They’re not human spirits. So you can’t burn the remains, in most cases anyway. If a Spirit turns into a Poltergeist, you can. Some houses are haunted by Poltergeists and you can purify the house using a ritual to destroy it. Ghosts can also destroy a Poltergeist by cancelling themselves out. It destroys both,” Dean frowned.

“An example of this is our mother,” Sam told the class. “She was murdered when we were young. Her spirit lingered in the house until a Poltergeist started haunting it, terrifying the new family. We went to investigate, and our mother appeared to us when we were doing the purification ritual. She confronted the Poltergeist and sacrificed herself to destroy it.”

There was a silence in the room and Dean moved quickly on, not wanting to linger on that fact. “The third type is the Buruburu. It’s Japanese in origin, and is a Ghost born of fear,” Dean told the class. “It’s rare, but if someone dies in a terrifying manner, they can infect others with that fear when they become a Buruburu. The people experience intense fear themselves, and develop what’s known as ‘Ghost Sickness’. It makes a person scared of everything. Eventually, the fear is what kills you.”

“Now moving onto the harmless Ghosts,” Sam moved on. “The first is a Death Echo.”

“This is a Ghost that is trapped. The spirit is stuck re-enacting its own death in a loop. They’re harmless. Why it happens is because the person is trapped in a painful cycle of their own death, usually in the place they died. You can shock this out of them and calm them enough to move on.”

“Next we have Death Omens. These ghosts are harmless. Usually, they stick around to warn the living. For example, we were on a case in which a woman was murdered by a corrupt police officer. She manifested and tried to warn other people. We eventually figured it out.”

“The last one we’re gonna cover is Revenants. They are very rare. They are created when a person is in denial about their death to such an extent, they almost seem alive again. Revenants can affect the world around them, be touched and touch people. Unlike normal ghosts who can only do it with great concentration or intense emotion. They are sort of like zombies in a way. Like Death Omens, if you prove their death to them, they can move on.”

“So we are going to show you some memories now,” Dean said. “The first is a case we worked on that some of you may know as the myth of Bloody Mary. Every culture has a myth about her, apparently, there isn’t much truth to them, but it turns out, this one was real. Mary Worthington was a woman who was murdered and her eyes were cut out. She haunted the mirror she died in front of. People who said the name ‘Bloody Mary’ three times would summon her. She would then kill someone nearby that had kept a horrible secret. Their eyes would liquify and they would die.”

“Sounds charming….” Parvati frowned. 

“The second memory involves the Poltergeist we told you about in our old home,” Sam continued. “Along with our mother’s appearance. The final memory we will be showing you is our encounter with a Buruburu.”

The students gathered as usual around the Pensieve. 

Sam was standing in an antique shop, surrounded by mirrors. He was holding a crowbar. Bloody Mary was in a mirror. Sam spotted her and smashed the mirror. She moved to a different one, and he smashed that too. She moved again. Sam turned and looked into another mirror. 

“Come on. Come into this one,” Sam muttered. His reflection changed. Sam started gasping for breath, blood trickling from his eyes. He clutched his chest, dropping the crowbar.

“It’s your fault. You killed her. You killed Jessica,” Sam’s reflection was still standing, glaring down at him. “You never told her the truth—who you really were.” Sam fell to his knees.

“But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Those nightmares you’ve been having of Jessica dying, screaming, burning—You had them for days before she died. Didn’t you!? You were so desperate to ignore them, to believe they were just dreams. How could you ignore them like that? How could you leave her alone to die!? You dreamt it would happen!” Sam’s reflection yelled.

“So the ghost makes you confess to lies when someone has died?” A Gryffindor looked to Sam who nodded in response.

Suddenly Dean’s crowbar smashed the mirror. Dean dropped down to Sam’s level.

“Sam? Sammy!”

“It’s Sam,” Sam gasped back.

“God, are you okay?” Dean said as he saw the blood coming from Sam’s eyes.

“Uh, yeah” 

“Come on, come on.” He helped Sam up and put his arm around his neck. Bloody Mary appeared in the mirror and emerged from it. She was crawling toward them. She got up and walked toward them. Dean and Sam started bleeding from their eyes. Dean grabbed a mirror and turned it to face her. Bloody Mary stopped in her tracks.

“You killed them! All those people! You killed them!” the reflection accused. Bloody Mary started gasping. She suddenly melted into a pile of blood. Dean smashed the mirror on the ground.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean asked.

“Yeah?” Sam replied.

“This has got to be like…what? 600 years of bad luck?”
Sam laughed breathlessly.

The memory blurred and reformed. The students were standing in a normal suburban kitchen, although things were scattered everywhere. 

“This is our family home,” Dean explained with a note of sadness in his voice. 

Inside the kitchen, Sam was flung into a set of cabinets. He stood up and was pinned against the wall by an invisible force. A figure engulfed in flame made its way towards Sam. Dean rushed into the room.

“Sam? Sam!” Dean yelled as he found him. He saw the figure and raised his gun.

“No, don’t! Don’t!” Sam exclaimed.

“What, why?! Dean looked at his brother incredulously, 

“Because I know who it is. I can see her now.”

Suddenly, the fire vanished. Instead, standing in front of them was Mary Winchester, exactly as she was the night she died. Dean’s eyes widened and he lowered his gun.

“Mom?” he said softly. Mary smiled and stepped closer.

Hermione looked sympathetic to the brothers. I don’t know what I’d do without my Mum and Dad, she thought.

“Dean.” Dean had tears in his eyes as she said his name. Mary walked away from him and went to Sam. “Sam.” 

Sam’s eyes were filled with tears. Mary’s expression turned sad. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sam gasped. His mother said nothing, looking at him sadly. She turned away and walked a few paces away. She stared upward. 

“You get out of my house,” she commanded. “And let go of my son.”  Her spirit burst into flames. The flame engulfed her and vanished. The force holding Sam to the wall was released. He walked over to Dean, and the two of them looked at each other, stunned.

“Now it’s over,” Sam stated.

Dean and Sam’s throats were tight with grief. Once again the memory faded. Now everyone was standing outside an old abandoned mill, observing Bobby and Sam talking.

“That’s our friend Bobby Singer, I’m sure we’ve mentioned him before.” Sam pointed to the older man.

“This is a terrible plan,” Bobby frowned.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam agreed. 

“I know I said, “scare the ghost to death” but this?”

“Hey, you got a better idea, I’m listening,” Sam scowled.

Bobby and Sam split up, using walkie-talkies.

“Any luck?” he asked through the device.

“I don’t know what’s wrong, Bobby. Last time he came right at us. It’s almost like he’s, uh…like he’s scared,” he said, lowering his shotgun.

“So now what?” Bobby asked.

“I guess I got to make him angry. Hey, Luther!” Sam started to tear up drawings. Machines whirred to life. “Come on, Luther! Where the hell are you? What are you waiting for?” 

Luther appeared behind him and threw him into the wall. They continued to fight, and Sam managed to wrap a chain around his neck.

“Bobby, punch it!” Sam yelled. Bobby, outside in the Impala, floored it. Luther’s spirit was dragged across the gravel until it vanished.

“Nice.” A large Slytherin boy grinned. 

The students exited the Pensieve. There was mostly silence as Sam and Dean collected the homework from the previous lesson and handed out a new task. The students left.

Harry slipped into bed, absolutely exhausted, although he doubted he could sleep with his thoughts whizzing around in his head. Over the last month, Harry had only one lesson with Dumbledore before tonight. Initially disappointed that Harry couldn’t persuade Slughorn to give up the memory, the headmaster showed him two more memories. 

One from a woman named Hepzibah Smith’s house-elf, Hokey. Riddle visited Hepzibah, now an employee at Borgin and Burke’s. She showed him two relics she collected. A locket that Harry recognized as once belonging to the Gaunts. Merope stole this locket, originally Salazar Slytherin’s and sold it while heavily pregnant. The other was a cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. She asked Hokey to put them away. Voldemort realized that it belonged to his family. Hepzibah was found dead two days later, and her house-elf was blamed after her memory was altered. It was soon noticed that the heirlooms had gone missing, and Voldemort disappeared. 

The second memory involved Voldemort returning to Hogwarts soon after he graduated. He spoke to Dumbledore and asked him for a position in the school. Voldemort revealed he approached Armando Dippet with the Same request almost 20 years before. Dumbledore confronted him about his true reason for coming, as it was not to teach. He didn’t know exactly what Voldemort truly wanted, but he did know that several Death Eaters were waiting for their master in Hogsmeade. He pointed this out and Voldemort left, furious.  

Then came the issue of the memory. Harry made one attempt, in which Slughorn kicked Harry out of his office, very angry at the mere mention of the word ‘Horcrux’. Harry realized eventually that he could use Felix Felicis. The potion led him to Hagrid’s hut. On the way, he met up with Slughorn. They both attended the funeral of Hagrid’s Acromantula friend, Aragog. During the night, Slughorn became quite drunk, and eventually with some persuasion, gave Harry the memory he sought. 

Immediately after getting back to the castle, Harry rushed to Dumbledore’s office. Upon viewing the memory, it revealed that Slughorn in reality, told Voldemort all about Horcruxes. He revealed to him that a Horcrux was the term for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul and that one ripped the soul apart by committing murder and then hiding the piece of soul in the preferred object. Therefore, the person was protected should their body be destroyed because they had a piece of their soul hidden safely elsewhere. Voldemort seemed very interested in if it was possible to split the soul more than once, and what would happen if he created multiple Horcruxes, stating seven. Slughorn was horrified at the idea. Voldemort left after assuring Slughorn that he wouldn’t tell anyone.

This confirmed a theory Dumbledore had been working on. Harry realized that this was why Voldemort didn’t die that Halloween night. The Headmaster revealed that they had both destroyed one each, Harry, the diary and himself; Marvolo Gaunt’s ring. He told Harry that these two pieces were destroyed, leaving four pieces to be found, and the last being Voldemort himself. He told Harry that Voldemort would not have made Horcruxes out of random, useless objects, but trophies with a powerful magical history worthy of the honour.

Not only that, but he believed that the locket and the cup were made into Horcruxes, and possibly something of Rowena Ravenclaw’s, also telling Harry of his theory that Nagini, Voldemort’s snake, had been turned into a Horcrux. Dumbledore also informed Harry that on the night of his parent’s murder, he believed that Voldemort went to Harry’s house with the intention of killing him to make his final Horcrux and circumvent the prophecy all at once. 

Harry rolled over in bed and tried to clear his head of the whirlwind of thoughts.

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 15 ^th December 2011

December came quickly to the students’ delight, and it brought with it, a blanket of snow over the grounds, just in time for Christmas. Sam and Dean were looking forward to it. They saw as the decorations were put up. Fantastic trees that reached the seemingly invisible ceiling of the Great Hall. Decorations were everywhere they looked, and it reminded Sam and Dean of their childhood Christmases. Sure, they had no money, and Dad was nearly always gone, but that didn’t matter. Dean had always tried his best to make sure that his little brother had a good time. It was a few hours after the final Quidditch match of the season. Gryffindor had beat Slytherin 250 to 120.

Sam and Dean retreated to their quarters, tired. The plan was to rest up before Horace’s party later that evening.

A hoot woke Sam from his nap, along with a tapping sound.
“Huh?” he mumbled, sitting up. He wiped the drool from his lips. The parchment in front of him lay forgotten. For a moment he was confused. Looking to the window, he could see Jess looking at him with big golden eyes, ruffling her wings. There was a parcel tied to her leg. Sam jolted to awareness and walked to the window, opening it.

“Hey girl,” He smiled. “Sorry.” He rubbed her head and brought her inside. Jess hopped onto Sam’s bed, nibbling at the corner of one of his books on the nightstand. She shook her wings, attempting to get some of the snowflakes off her feathers. Sam picked up a discarded t-shirt and dried her off gently, giving her a cracker. Untying the parcel was easy. They were getting used to this owl post stuff. At the start, they planned on using their phones, but they found themselves using the wizarding modes of communication more than they expected to. 

Sam put the parcel down and opened it. He pulled out two pieces of paper. He got up and walked to the door that connected to Dean’s room.

“Hey Dean, wake up! Mail call!” He knocked on the door and turned the knob. Dean was sleeping on his stomach. 

“Dude, wake up,” Sam said as he shook his brother’s shoulder. Dean jerked awake.

“Wha- What?!”

“It’s just me. We got a letter from Bobby and Cas,” Sam told him. Dean ran a hand over his face and held his hand out. Sam handed him Bobby’s letter first.

Sam and Dean,

’Bout damn time I hear from you two idjits. Hope you haven’t killed anyone. Apart from that Snape son of a bitch. He’s a freakin ass for doing that to ya Dean. Been a few cattle mutilations recently. We’ve been scoping it out. Demons have been swarming lately, and we don’t know why. With Crowley gone, I guess they would be some sort of uprising. Anyway, Feathers is here, and he wants to say something. Damn Angels have no patience. By the way, got you two something for Christmas.

Anyway, write back, you two. I don’t wanna have to come over there and kick your asses.

Bobby.

Dean snorted and they swapped letters.

Hello Dean and Sam,

I am hoping you are well. Bobby seems to be wrong about Angels having no patience. Patience is a human emotion, which most Angels are unable to experience. Heaven has been in an uproar since the apparent absence of God. The Angels do not know what to do. Bobby is reading over my shoulder and telling me to be cheerful and not to be a “killjoy” although I am not sure what that means.  The anniversary of the birth of Jesus is approaching and Bobby has decorated. It confuses me. Why would an Angel sit upon a coniferous tree? Angels are warriors of God, and it seems very illogical. Bobby has sent you some gifts along with this, and he helped me choose them. My gifts are rings, carved with protection symbols. Bobby has bought Dean a leather jacket and you, Sam, a new occult book. I am hoping you are well. 

Castiel.

P.S. This bird seems to have formed an attachment to me… She won’t stop rubbing her face on me. 

“Typical Cas,” Dean muttered. “Surprised he’s back on the board now.”

“Yeah, you think he’d call,” Sam frowned.

“So, where are these presents they were gabbing on about?” Dean asked.

“On my bed,” Sam answered and Dean was gone. Sam stifled a laugh.

They had taken out their gifts. Castiel’s rings were made of simple small curved bands that crossed over and connected to form a ring that had tiny black onyx gems along it. Along the inside, were protection symbols carved into it. Dean’s new leather jacket was something he loved, yet his old one held symbolism for him. His father had given it to him. He knew it wasn’t original and new, but who cares? Sam had a new occult book from Bobby’s small library. 

The Great Hall wasn’t as full as it usually was due to the holidays as they arrived for dinner. Some decided to stay at the castle with the rest of the staff. They ate in mostly silence. Beside them, Horace was talking excitedly about his upcoming party.

“It was the social event of the season back when I first taught here!” Horace smiled as he turned to Sam and Dean. “You two are planning to attend right? Oh, we’ll have a grand time!” 

“Sure Horace, I love a party,” Dean grinned.

“No purple nurples this time Dean,” Sam laughed. 

“Shut up…”

“Purple nurples?” Horace asked with a curious look on his face. “What are those? Some sort of potion?” 

“It’s just alcohol,” Sam replied. 

Horace turned his nose up. “Oh no, children are attending the event. We wouldn’t want to set a poor example for them.”

“Of course not,” Sam assured.

“Though I do have some set aside for special occasions.” Horace stage-whispered to Dean with a wink. “Don’t tell anyone, very hush, hush.”

Sam and Dean shared a smirk, the old Potions Master seemed more like a Hufflepuff rather than a Slytherin. But they guessed that it goes to show that not all Slytherins were evil incarnate.  

Breakfast soon came to a close. Dean and Sam walked down the Hall toward the doors. Dean was about to go over their plans for the day when a blur of brown hair whizzed by them.

“What the hell was that?”

“WON WON!” a girl who they recognized as Lavender Brown practically screamed as she wrapped her arms around Ron’s neck in a hug. Sam and Dean shared a smirk, getting it immediately. From the way Hermione was glaring daggers at Lavender’s back, she was jealous. Extremely. Lavender pulled Ron away by the sleeve and Hermione watched them go with a scowl. 

“Dean, don’t meddle….” Sam warned his brother as he started towards Hermione.

“I’m not meddling….” Dean rolled his eyes. “I’m just nudging a little.” 

“I’m fine Harry,” Hermione replied, looking not fine at all. 

“If you don’t mind me intruding. I can’t help but see there’s some trouble with the three of you,” Dean stood beside Hermione. “Are you still angry at Ron?”

“Not angry, just… irritated I suppose….” She sighed in defeat. “He really can be a pain sometimes.”

“I get it,” Dean nodded. “Look, just try to ignore them. You can look forward to the party in a while.” 

“That is an accomplishment seeing as they’re snogging more than breathing….” Harry muttered. 

“Quite the double standard don’t you think?” Ginny was fuming as well. 

“He’s just acting out,”  Sam said. “Trust me. I’m not saying it’s right, but that’s what he’s doing.”

“In other words, he’s a 16-year-old boy.” Dean shrugged. “No offence Harry. But I did stupid stuff when I was sixteen too. ”

“He was a nightmare,” Sam laughed a little. “It’ll be okay Hermione. Don’t worry. Go have fun tonight, show Ron that you don’t care.”

“Thanks, Professors,” Hermione smiled.

The large room was packed with people.

“Is it too ’peopley’ for you Sam?” Dean grinned as he took in the party-goers.

“You forget I was in college,” Sam grinned. “I got fairly good at beer pong.”

“Surprised a nerd like you pulled your head out from between those pages for five minutes, nevermind went to parties,” Dean smirked. “You just scream ’fun sucker’.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and moved over to the food table.

“Hello Professors,” said a dreamy voice from behind them. They turned to see the little blonde witch regarding them with a content smile. She wore a dark blue dress that suited her slender figure. It was weird to see the students in something other than their normal school attire.

“Oh hey Luna, you made it.” Sam smiled. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes,” Luna smiled back. “It’s nice to get out of Ravenclaw Tower once in a while and go to events. Unfortunately, we don’t have Dumbledore’s Army any more. It was almost like having friends.”

Sam and Dean looked at each other, sharing a worried glance before turning back to Luna.

“You’re friends with Harry and the other’s right?” Dean asked kindly.

“Yes you are,” said Harry as he approached. “We are your friends Luna.”

“See?” Sam smiled. “And we’re your friends too, sort of.” Luna nodded and looked at Harry dreamily.

“Good game Harry,” Luna smiled. 

“Thanks, Luna,” Harry smiled back. “You did a great job in the box today.”

“I tried not to play favourites and to be a fair judge.” Luna beamed at the praise. 

“Well done,” Dean nodded. 

The teens and the boys worked the room separately before Horace called the party to order.

“Everyone, everyone! Thank you for coming to my little get together for Christmas. I want to congratulate the Gryffindor team for a fantastic win today. Though don’t get too downtrodden my dear Slytherins, your time will come.” He boomed cheerfully. There was a cheer as a sea of red started to celebrate.

Horace called them all to order again and directed them all to take their seats. Sam and Dean sat to the left of Horace and the latter directed Harry to sit on his right. 

“What the hell is going on?” Dean muttered to his brother. Sam shrugged, just as confused. 

Horace clapped his hands. “Shall we begin?” 

“Uh…” Dean muttered. “Where’s the food?”

Horace waved his wand. Suddenly food filled the tables. 

“Where does all this food come from Horace?” Sam asked as the students began to dig in.

“We’ve been here for months, and you’re just now questioning it?” Dean asked around bites of a chicken leg. 

“I assumed there’s a kitchen somewhere, but what I mean is how does it get here from there?” Sam rolled his eyes. 

“We have house-elves that work in our kitchens,” Horace explained. They prepare the food for the castle.”

“House-elves?” Dean asked.

Hermione bristled at the mention of the creatures. “It’s utterly barbaric….” She whispered under her breath.

“Not all treat their house-elves like the Malfoys,” Harry pointed out. “House-elves are usually servants,” he explained. “Some wizarding families have them.”

“They’re forced into a life of service.” Hermione frowned. “It isn’t fair Harry.” 

“I’m not saying it’s right,” Harry held his hands up in surrender.

Horace cleared his throat, “Maybe we should change the subject. I believe congratulations are in order for you, young Wallenby.” Tipping his glass in Ron’s direction.

“Weasley sir,” Harry whispered.

“What?” Horace asked. “Oh yes, quite right, my mistake.”

After the meal, the mood shifted to individual small groups; Harry, Ron, and Hermione still sat at the table with Horace, Sam, and Dean. 

“Are you two enjoying yourselves?” Horace smiled as he produced a bottle from inside his pockets.

“Yes, Professor thanks for inviting us.” Dean smiled.

“You are quite welcome, my boy, here.” He uncorked the bottle and poured the liquid into their glasses. “Have a glass of mead, it’s a special blend!” He turned to offer it to Ron, Hermione and Harry, pouring it into their glasses. 

“I was saving this for a Christmas present, but I think the occasion calls for it. Besides, young Wimbly did a spectacular job at today’s match.” Ron grumbled and Harry tried to correct him yet again.

“I appreciate it, Professor.” Dean held up the glass and clinked it with his Harry’s. “Bottoms up!”

Ron already chugged his goblet’s contents, embarrassed by Horace’s praise. Dean and Sam’s goblets were to their lips ready to drink when they immediately noticed the greenish complexion Ron’s skin took on. Sam caught the scent of something foul from the bottle.

“Wait! Don’t drink it!” Sam dropped his glass.

“Ron, mate?”  Harry asked, worrying about his friend as he started to sway unsteadily on his feet. 

Suddenly, time stopped. The glass fell from Ron’s fingers and shattered on the stone floor. At once everyone stopped what they were doing to look. Ron swayed once again before his body crumpled.

“Ron!” Dean exclaimed. His limbs were flailing uncontrollably, foam dribbling down his mouth and his eyes bulging out of their sockets. Dean turned Ron on his side to clear his airway.

“C’mon kid,” Dean muttered, taking his pulse. It was rapidly thumping against his fingers.

A crowd began to form around them.

“Ron?!” Ginny exclaimed.

“Stay back. Give him some room. Ron, can you hear me?” Sam’s voice was alarmed but level-headed as he looked for the Potions Master.

“Horace, what the hell was in that?” Dean exclaimed.

But Horace seemed paralysed by shock, all the while Ron twitched and choked on the floor, his face was turning blue. 

“Horace! Do something!” Dean yelled, trying to snap him out of it.

Harry came out of nowhere and was carrying something that looked like a medical kit. He pulled out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of Ron’s gargling filled the room. Then he found what he was looking for, a shrivelled kidney-like stone. Hermione stared wide-eyed at Ron, feeling powerless to help her friend, still confused about where they stood. She looked to Harry, praying that whatever he was doing would stop the convulsions. 

“What is that?” Sam asked.

“A bezoar,” Harry replied as he shoved it down Ron’s throat. Ron’s whole body shook for a second longer, he gasped for breath, and his body became limp and still. There was a deafening silence as the onlookers waited to see what happened. 

“What’s happened to him?” Sam asked, his eyes wide, still worried that Ron hadn’t woken up yet.

“I’m not really sure,” Harry said. “We should probably take him to the Hospital Wing.” Ron then opened his eyes and started coughing. Dean helped him up.

“What happened?” He mumbled as he slumped against Dean’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry kiddo, we’re gonna get you up to Pomfrey okay?” Dean assured the sickly teen. 

He took his weight and walked him toward the Hospital Wing.

“I’ll contact the Headmaster,” Horace said in a shocked voice. His hands were trembling.

Dean and Sam supported Ron’s weight as they half-carried him. Ron’s head was lolling, his skin a pale sickly colour. 

“What in the world-” Poppy Pomfrey stuttered as she saw the two Demonology Professors coming in with Ron, followed closely by his friends and sister. She quickly directed him to the nearest bed. Sam helped him into the bed. 

Both brothers watched as Poppy examined him. She waved her wand, mumbling various spells. It was a short while later when she was taking his temperature when Dumbledore, Minerva, Snape and Horace came into the room. Hermione, Harry and Ginny sat by Ron’s bed. Hermione was holding Ron’s hand.

“It appears Mr Weasley will be just fine. I have just spoken to his parents.” Dumbledore said. “They will be in soon.”

“What exactly happened?” Minerva asked. Sam and Dean gave her a rundown on what had occurred.

“Good thinking on your part Harry for using a bezoar,” Dumbledore commented. “You must be very proud of your student Horace.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. Very proud.” Horace still looked like he was trying to remember something from before. He was clutching the bottle of mead.

“I think we all agree that Potter’s actions were heroic,” McGonagall said. “The question is why were they necessary?”

“Why indeed.” Dumbledore walked over to Slughorn. “This appears to be a gift, Horace. You don’t remember who gave you this bottle? Which by the way,” he took a sniff, “possesses remarkably subtle hints of liquorice and cherry when not polluted with poison.”

“Actually, I had intended to give it as a gift,” Horace admitted.

“To whom, I might ask?” Dumbledore asked, passing the bottle to Snape.

“To you, Headmaster,” Horace said regrettably. Silence enveloped the room.

“I think someone is trying to get rid of you Professor Dumbledore,” Sam muttered. 

The silence was suddenly broken by a screeching sound. 

“Where is he? Where’s my Won-Won?!” Lavender cried. 

“What the-” Dean muttered.

She rushed toward Ron’s bed, seemingly unaware of the onlooking teachers and fellow students. “Has he been asking for me?” Her eyes landed on Hermione and they narrowed.

“What’s she doing here?”

“I might ask you the same question,” Hermione clipped.

“I happen to be his girlfriend!” spat Lavender, outraged.

“And I happen to be his… friend…”

“Don’t make me laugh” Lavender shot back, eyes flashing. “You haven’t spoken in over a month! I suppose you want to make up with him now that he’s suddenly all interesting?”

Hermione laughed, amazed by Lavender’s words. “He’s been poisoned, you daft dimbo! And for the record, I’ve always found him interesting.” She blushed ever so slightly.

“Please tell me we were never this bad,” Sam said quietly. Ron stirred ever so slightly and mumbled in his unconscious state. 

“Ah see? He senses my presence. Don’t worry, Won-Won. I’m here,” Lavender crooned. 

“Hermione…” Ron mumbled. “Hermione. Hermione.”

Lavender’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She looked around at everyone and burst into a fresh bout of sobbing. She fled the room, her sobs echoing off the walls. Everyone watched her go.

“Oh to be young and to feel love’s keen sting,” Dumbledore mused cheerfully. He and the other teachers left Ron to sleep. Harry, Hermione, Sam, and Dean stayed where they were.

Dean and Sam watched as the Hospital Wing’s doors opened yet again, revealing Molly and Arthur Weasley. Molly’s face was tear-stained, worry etched on her face, Arthur’s brows were furrowed behind his glasses. They came forward to their son’s side at once. 

“Oh, Ron…” his mother fretted. Her hands hovered over him, as if afraid to touch him.

“He’ll be okay Mrs Weasley,” Sam assured. 

Molly and Arthur seemed to only be aware of their presence at that moment. They looked up and saw the two brothers. Their eyes then landed on Harry.

“Oh Harry, dear. Thank you…” Molly sniffed as she pulled the boy into a crushing hug. Dean thought he heard a faint grunt of pain. 

“Dumbledore told us how you saved him with the bezoar,” she sobbed. “Oh, Harry, what can we say? You saved Ginny… you saved Arthur…. Now you’ve saved Ron.”

“Don’t be… I didn’t…” muttered Harry awkwardly. 

“Half our family does seem to owe you their lives, now I stop and think about it,” Arthur continued, his throat thick. “All I can say is that it was a lucky day for the Weasleys when Ron decided to sit in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express…”

“He’s my friend. I had to help him somehow,” Harry deflected as Molly let him go. He didn’t want the praise. He just did his best to help his friend. 

“It’s no trouble… really.” Molly looked to her husband uncertainly, worry in her eyes.

Sam cleared his throat, “Molly? He’s going to recover.”

“I know,” Molly nodded. She dabbed a handkerchief at the corner of her eyes. “I just can’t keep doing this any more.”

“Hogwarts is the safest place for them right now Molly.” Arthur put his arms around her shoulders. “Don’t start this again.”

Ginny looked at her mother. “Mum, we’re staying here.”

“Ginny this is a conversation for the adults” Molly chided.

“We’re safe here!” Ginny shot back. “Safer than at home!”

Dean stepped in. “If I could say something-” Sam put his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Molly looked at him sharply. “I get it, Molly. We’re all scared. But I would never let anything happen to these kids. I’d die before I let anything happen to them. They’ve also seen the worst of the worst when they broke into the Ministry right?”

“I have to protect my children,” Molly replied sharply. 

“We understand.” Sam smiled gently. “I know you just met us, but you can trust us.” 

“We’ll protect your kids,” Dean assured. “If not, you can kill us or turn us into a pocket watch or whatever.” 

“I’m sorry this happened,” Sam continued. 

Molly waved her hand at him absently as she wiped her eyes again. “Oh, it’s not your fault… But Albus assured us the school was safe.”

“And it is Molly” Arthur hugged her gently. Molly wiped her tears away.

“S’ok Mum…” Ron mumbled.’

“Ron? Oh sweetheart,” Molly rushed to her son’s side. Dean looked away wanting to give mother and son privacy, but he also had a lump in his throat. Molly Weasley was a loving caring mother, something they’d lost and would never have again. It was nice to have someone that would protect you and do anything for you. “We should probably go, Sammy.”

Sam nodded and they moved to leave.

Suddenly Dean felt arms around him and realized Molly was hugging him. Ginny, Hermione, and Harry were watching, surprised. “Thank you for helping save my son…” Molly said. Arthur pried her away gently, looking grateful, also a little apologetic. 

“Yeah, well…” Dean started to blush. “No problem.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 23 ^rd December 2011

It was two days before Christmas. Snow covered, the hilltops and mountains surrounding the castle, The wind was blustery and wild, cutting into the skin. “So damn cold…” Dean complained as he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “This castle is drafty.”

“You ’re telling me you ’re not used to it yet?” Sam asked. 

“Shut up Sam…” Dean grumbled, shivering. Sam laughed a little.

Both brothers were relieved. Things had calmed down, it seemed. It had been a week since Ron ’s poisoning. They noticed the redhead nursing an equally red mark on his cheek that loosely resembled a handprint that morning. Obviously, the breakup hadn ’t gone down well. Dean wondered if he would need a little pep talk, but his fears were easily dismissed when he saw Harry and Hermione talking to him. Hermione seemed much more attentive to him. Their relationship apparently mended.

“See? My meddling helped,” Dean smirked.

“Yeah yeah,” Sam rolled his eyes. “Are you going to add matchmaker to your list of hunting skills?”

“Hilarious,” Dean retorted.

“I wish Bobby could be here to see this.” Sam mused.

“Yeah, he ’d love it. He’d complain about the cold too.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shoved Dean ’s shoulder, planning to hit him in the face with a snowball later. He smirked to himself.

“I am ready for some more Firewhiskey. I swear that warmth stays with you all the way back to the castle.”

“I wonder if wizards have AA?” Sam mused.“No, there ’s probably a magic spell that cures a hangover.” 

“You should learn that one,” Sam grinned.

They were walking out of the castle toward Hogsmeade and saw Harry, Ron and Hermione at the clock tower.

“Hey,” Dean greeted.

“Hi sirs,” Hermione smiled back. 

“How are you guys doing?” Sam asked.

“Fine,” Hermione replied.

“Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks,” Harry suggested. “It’ll be warm.”

“Sure,” Sam and Dean shrugged.

“Might be able to pick up a few witches, eh Sammy?” Dean grinned, nudging his brother who was rolling his eyes.

The street was not very busy; nobody was lingering to chat, just hurrying toward their destinations. There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the winter weather. There were two men a little ahead of them, standing just outside the Three Broomsticks. One was very tall and thin. As Dean, Harry, Sam, and Hermione drew closer, the tall man drew his cloak more tightly around his neck and walked away, leaving the shorter man to fumble with something in his arms. Harry suddenly spoke.

“Mundungus!” Sam and Dean shared a look. Obviously, Harry knew him. The man jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open.

“Oh, ’ello, ’Arry,” said Mundungus. “Well, don’t let me keep ya. Gimme that!” he snapped at Dean, who was holding a silver cup. The Black family crest was embossed proudly on the silver. 

“Thank you!” said Mundungus, snatching the goblet out of Dean’s hand and stuffing it back into the case. “Well, I’ll see you all — OUCH!” Harry, to the other ’s shock, pinned Mundungus against the wall of the pub by the throat. He pulled out his wand.

“Harry!” Sam protested. “Stop!” He didn ’t know where the line was between student and teacher in this instance. They ’d never seen him act like this. “You took that from Sirius’s house didn ’t you,” said Harry dangerously, his anger barely in check.

“I-no-what…?” spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple.

“What did you do, go back the night he died and strip the place?” snarled Harry. “Give it to me!” Harry snatched the cup from his hand angrily. “You had no right to take this! You ’re worse than a damn Niffler!”

There was a sudden bang, and Mundungus was gone.

“Shit!” Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the spot. “COME BACK, YOU THIEVING-!” he yelled.

“There’s no point, Harry,” Dean said. “He’ll be gone by now.”

“He’s nicked Sirius’s stuff! Nicked it!” Harry exclaimed angrily. “How dare he….”

“Harry…” Hermione touched his shoulder gently. 

Harry knelt down and looked at the array of objects Mundungus left behind after his escape. Ron helped him collect the items.

“Hang on.” Harry grabbed Ron ’s arm as he held up a long chain to inspect it. He took it from him. There was a heavy, gold oval-shaped locket that hung from it. There was an ’S ’ in green stones on the front. Harry ’s eyes widened, recognizing it at once. Slytherin ’s locket. His blood went cold.

“I have to go,” said Harry suddenly. He bolted in the other direction.

“Harry?!” Hermione and Ron called after him.

“Watch it!” A gruff-voiced man exclaimed as Harry pushed past him. 

Ron looked at Hermione. “Should we go after him? He seemed kind of upset.”

“Maybe we should give him a minute,” Sam frowned.

“Yeah… he ’s probably just upset over that guy,” Dean was frowning too, knowing it probably wasn ’t the case. Ron nodded. “Suppose not…”

“Let ’s get inside, It ’s getting too cold out here,” Sam instructed. Ron and Hermione nodded.

Ron assured Hermione that if it was important Harry would fill them in later.

They walked in silence into the Three Broomsticks. The group didn’t plan on sitting together, but with the combination of the cold winter winds and the warm food, the small dining room was packed. They found a booth and sat down. Hermione came back to them with four Butterbeers.

“Sorry, it took so long…” She set the mugs down and they each took one. “Madam Rosmerta is swamped.”

Dean looked for the witch among the melee. Spotting her bustling around three tables. “She needs to hire some help around here. You know I ’ve always wanted a bar?.”

“No Dean….” Sam frowned. “You only mentioned it a thousand times.”

“How cool would it be though Sammy?!” Dean grinned. “And a magical bar at that.”

“Awesome…” Sam replied sarcastically. 

Hermione and Ron smiled at the brothers. 

“Anyway,” Dean waved his fork between the two students as he chewed. “You two seemed to have made up.”

Ron choked on his Butterbeer and Hermione turned pink. 

“Subtle Dean…” Sam rolled his eyes as he took a sip.

“I believe in getting to the point,” Dean shrugged.

“Ronald and I have reconciled our differences,” Hermione sniffed. 

“Sorry about my brother,” Sam apologized, glaring at Dean. “He doesn ’t think before he talks.”

“And my brother is always a smart ass.”

“Dean, be professional, will you?”

“I believe the word you ’re looking for is smartarse….” Ron smirked. “Bloody hell, you two bicker more than Percy did with Fred and George.”

“Typical brother stuff.” Dean shrugged. He caught the little frown Ron gave when he mentioned the name ’Percy ’. “How is your family Ron?”

“Mum is a bit mental at the minute.” Ron made a face. “Charlie has come in from Romania to visit for a couple of days. He went back in September. Now he ’s back for Christmas. She ’ll have plenty to obsess over. She might try to get him to assign us a dragon bodyguard.”

“Let me guess, he ’s the favourite?” Sam smiled a little. 

“I ’d say it’s a tie between him and Percy.” Hermione smiled. 

“Dragon bodyguards? Sounds awesome!” Dean grinned. 

“Mum wants us to go home for Christmas. I think she still wants to pull us out of school. We ’re staying here for Christmas. If we go home, I think she might not let us back,” he frowned. “She still treats us like kids.”

Dean and Sam ’s replies were cut off by distant shouting. They joined the others in going outside. They recognized the voices of Katie Bell and her friend, they were becoming shriller and louder as they got closer to the huddle of students. The two girls were arguing about something Katie was holding in her hand.

“It’s nothing to do with you, Leanne!” they heard Katie say. Leanne made to grab hold of the package Katie was holding, but Katie tugged it back and the package fell to the ground.

At once, Katie rose into the air, almost gracefully, her arms outstretched, as though she was about to fly. Her hair was whipped around her by the fierce wind, but her eyes were closed, and her face was quite empty of expression. Sam, Dean, Ron, and Hermione froze.

Katie let out a terrible scream. Her eyes flew open, displaying terrible anguish. She screamed and screamed. Leanne started to scream too and seized Katie’s ankles, trying to tug her back to the ground. 

“Move!” Dean shoved past the concerned students, making way for Sam, Hermione, and Ron to come through. “Leanne!” 

“Professor! I can ’t- She-” Leanne was babbling incoherently tugging fiercely on Katie ’s ankle.

They ran towards Katie and tried to pull her down. They managed to lower her, but she was still convulsing in obvious agony.

“Oh, bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed.

“We have to get her to the castle,” Sam said. Dean nodded and bent down, scooping her into his arms, and ran off toward the castle with her. They followed.

“Did it just happen all of a sudden, or…?” Sam asked Leanne as they saw Dean disappear.

“It was when that package tore,” Leanne sobbed, pointing at the now sodden brown-paper package on the ground, which was split open to reveal a greenish glitter. Sam bent down, his hand outstretched, but Hermione seized his arm and pulled him back. She pulled the scarf from around her neck and wrapped the necklace in it.

“We’ll need to show this to someone,” Hermione said and began walking.

“Give it to me, Hermione,” Sam said. She gave Sam the scarf gently. They reached the castle within a couple of minutes. Minerva was hurrying down the stone steps through swirling sleet to meet them.

“Dean says you four saw what happened to Katie Bell. Upstairs to my office at once, please! What’s that you’re holding, Sam?”

“It’s the thing she touched,” Sam replied.

“Oh Merlin,” said Minerva, looking alarmed as she took the necklace from Sam.

Sam and the others followed Minerva upstairs and into her office. 

“Well?” she said sharply. “What happened?”

Leanne, after calming slightly, began to explain what happened to Katie. When she finished, Minerva looked sympathetic.

“You ’re sure Katie did not have this in her possession when she entered the Three Broomsticks?” Minerva asked Leanne.

“It ’s- it ’s like I said.” She sniffled. “She left to go to the loo, and when she came back she had the package.” She took a pause. “She said it was important that she deliver it.”

“Did she say to whom?“ the Professor inquired.

“To Professor Dumbledore.” Dean, Hermione, Ron and Sam all shared a silent look before turning their attention back to Leanne.

“All right,” She said kindly. “Go up to the hospital wing, please, Leanne, and get Madam Pomfrey to give you something for shock.” When she left the room, Minerva turned back to the others.

“What happened when Katie touched the necklace?”

“She rose up in the air,” Dean explained. “And then began to scream and collapsed.”

“She will need to go to St Mungo’s,” Minerva. “The sooner, the better.” She sighed. 

“Are you sure you didn ’t see anything out of the ordinary before Katie was possessed?”

“No Professor,” Ron replied. 

She sat back down and rubbed her temples.

“Professor Winchester, would you mind taking this down to Professor Snape?” Minerva motioned towards the still bundled up necklace.

“Sure thing Professor.“ Sam smirked. “You know my brother and I deal with cursed objects all the time. We could take a look at it if you want.”

“I am well aware of that but for all intent and purpose; I think Professor Snape would want to examine it.”

Sam picked up the necklace and walked down to Snape ’s office.

Minerva looked at Ron and Hermione. “I suggest the two of you go back to your dormitories.”

⸸

Harry was panting as he broke into a sprint toward the castle. He was barely aware of bumping into several people on his way. How could he miss this? All this time, Slytherin ’s locket, suspected Horcrux, lay in the Black family home. Out of all the knick-knacks scattered in the Black house. The one thing that Dumbledore had been searching for was right under their nose.

What seemed like a lifetime ago, where in reality was only a little over a year ago, Mrs Weasley tasked everyone in the decontamination of the house. It involved the ridding of several questionable items from the home, along with various types of vermin. Among them was the locket. When no one could open it, it was discarded. How had Mundungus found it? Kreacher, Harry realized as he ran. The loyal house-elf stole back various objects. He remembered Sirius ’s harsh words as he pulled a piece of jewellery from Kreacher ’s hiding spot and threw it away.

“Damn house-elf…” he muttered under his breath. Harry was amazed. How had he not recognized it when they viewed the memories? He should have put the pieces together. So now there was a Horcrux in his hand.  A part of him wanted to bury it somewhere, disgusted by what it contained. A twisted, mangled piece of Voldemort ’s soul. 

By the time he reached the gargoyle, he was panting. “Lemon… drop,” he gasped before sprinting up the stairs. He knocked insistently on the door.

“Come in,” said a calm voice on the other side. Harry pulled the door open and bolted inside.

“Harry?”

“Sir… locket… Mundungus…” he gasped. 

“Slow down Harry.” Dumbledore guided the young man into a chair. Harry dug in his pockets and pulled out the locket. “Is that?”

Harry nodded, breathless.

“How did you find this Harry?” Dumbledore asked, rising to his feet. 

“We were in Hogsmeade,” Harry told him, starting to get his breath back as he put the locket down. “Mundungus had Sirius ’s stuff. He was flogging it. I was angry, and I took the bag from him. That ’s when I saw the locket. When we were cleaning Grimmauld Place last year, we found it. No one could open it, so we threw it out. We figured it was rubbish.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And you’re sure this is the locket?”

“I mean, I think so,” Harry replied. “It looks like the one in the memories.”

“Thank you, Harry.” Dumbledore smiled. “This is fantastic. We must be careful, don ’t touch it more than necessary.”

“Why Professor?” Harry frowned.

“Horcruxes can have some nasty enchantments,” Dumbledore said and raised his blackened hand. Harry ’s eyes widened. 

“Is that because of a Horcrux?”

“Yes, my hand was cursed when destroying Marvolo Gaunt ’s ring,” Dumbledore explained gravely.

“It is best to destroy them as soon as possible.”

“Are you alright sir?” Harry asked.

“I am fine. That ’s not what is important now,” Dumbledore said as he walked to a nearby cabinet. “What is important is that we must destroy it.”

“How?”

“Using the Sword of Gryffindor,” Dumbledore explained. “I came to realize recently, that in your second year when you stabbed the Basilisk, you impregnated the blade with the venom. This Sword was goblin made. Objects like this only take in that which makes it stronger. I realized basilisk venom could destroy a Horcrux when you stabbed Tom Riddle ’s diary with the Basilisk Fang. Putting everything together, I realized that the Sword could now destroy Horcruxes.”

Harry sat in shocked silence. Dumbledore brought the Sword to his desk and held it. 

“Harry, I need you to open the locket,” he instructed, “and to do as I say, exactly. I believe the locket must be opened using Parseltongue. It was spoken in the Slytherin family for generations.”

Harry sat up, looking down at the small locket. 

“On three, one, two, three.”

“Open,” said Harry in Parseltongue. Nothing happened at first, then with a hiss, the locket started to open.

“I have seen your heart, and it is mine,” a familiar, high, cold voice echoed from the depths of the gold locket. Two faint figures appeared. The image of a girl flickered to life, no older than fourteen or fifteen. Blonde hair tumbled down past her shoulders, framing a kind face. The other figure was male, in his late teens. Blonde hair also, with blue eyes and a thin white moustache. The image swiftly faded as a crash sounded in the room along with a scream. The locket lay shattered on the table. 

“Are you alright Professor?”

“Yes, perfectly fine,” Dumbledore assured. “You did quite well, Harry. Well done.”

A knock on the door interrupted them. Harry looked to the door to see Dean come in.

“Hey Professor, you better come down here...”

The sight of the wind swirling among the trees, blowing dead leaves from their branches, dull though the sight was, the wind made no sound as if nothing were in the trees in the endless forest. Although in Purgatory, there were nothing but monsters that hid in the shadows.  Purgatory was separate from both Heaven and Hell. It was once described as the backside of nightmares. All blood and bone and darkness, filled with the bodies and souls of all things hungry, sharp, and nasty. It was originally created by God to contain the oldest of creatures, Leviathans.  Long story short, it was not a good place to have a vacation home. The sky was grey, cloudy casting a sense of foreboding in the air. All of a sudden, the silence was broken by a feral growling sound. A large, human-shaped figure leapt from behind a tree, aiming for its prey, two humans. 

One man was in his fifties, 6“1 in height with hard features, dark stubble, and brown, almost black hair, brown eyes and muscular build. The man beside him was a few inches shorter, at 5“9 with long black hair to his shoulders, grey eyes, an average build and looked to be in his mid-thirties. The older man pulled out a curved blade and with swiftness, sliced the vampire’s head off with a smooth cut. The headless body fell to the ground.

“Damn son of a bitch.“ He scowled as he wiped the blood off his blade.

The men exchanged glances. Both ended up in Purgatory for different, yet also similar reasons. They both died to save someone they loved. The older man was there for years after his spirit faded, and now he was constantly fighting, but it wasn’t any different to his life on Earth. He had been constantly fighting, as had the younger, who was only there around six months after going down in a fight. 

The younger man had only been there a few hours when the elder saved him from a creature that he discovered was a Leviathan. He couldn’t kill it but was able to slow it down. He fought those things before, and whatever he did, he couldn’t succeed in killing them. The men discovered things about each other, and they began to trust one another, unusual for both men.

They knew they had to get out. They heard rumours of a portal between Purgatory and discovered it was real after getting it out of some creatures. The two men were able to pinpoint it, and here they stood, staring at a blue vortex that swirled as they approached.

“Here goes nothing,“ the elder man muttered. The younger man smiled. 

“See you on the other side,“ he replied and they both began to approach the vortex. As they drew closer, it seemed to be sucking them into it, and both men disappeared into it and the vortex was suddenly gone with them.

The men both landed in a small alley. 

“Where are we?“ the younger man asked. 

“I have no idea,“ the eldest said. “There’s a place over there with newspapers outside,“ he said.

“Brilliant!“ They both sprinted towards the building, which they identified as a small shop.

The younger man grabbed a sodden newspaper and looked. 

“Great, the Daily Prophet,“ he read. “23^rd of December 2011.“

“Five years,“ the older man breathed. “Damn.“

“We’re in Diagon Alley, in London,“ the younger man said suddenly. “I didn’t recognize it.”

True, the alley looked extremely different from the last time he had seen it. They looked at the paper again.

“Wait! What the hell?!“ the older man said, grabbing the paper.

The younger man looked at the paper. “Muggle professors strike again: are our children safe?“

“Sources have found that the Muggle professors, Samuel and Dean Winchester have been teaching their students vile creatures that no child should see,“ the older one read, and his jaw dropped. He looked at the picture that went with the article.

“We have to get to Hogwarts,“ the younger man said.

“Yes we do,“ the older man replied with determination.

John Winchester threw the paper to the ground as he and Sirius Black left to find their families with a loud crack.

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 25 ^th December 2011

Christmas Day arrived with a flurry of snow and ice. The Winchesters were still in their rooms. Sam was deeply asleep, although his head was tossing, mumbled words forming.

Flashing images met his mind, memories from the past. As a rule, Sam and Dean tried to block the past, but sometimes the memories came back without warning. The memories spurred forth now like a broken dam. 

He saw his childhood, arguing with his father constantly leaving for Stanford. If you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back! Then, Jessica was on the ceiling, stomach slashed open, staring down with accusation in her eyes.  It’s your fault, Sam. You weren’t there.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Dean awoke and stretched. He smiled. Today was Christmas Day. It had never been great for them as kids, but he tried to make it as good as he could. He bought, well stole presents, and he noted with a snort of amusement the year he had accidentally gotten Sam a Barbie doll and a cheer-leading stick. Dean smiled a little. He felt the small golden amulet that hung from around his neck and he didn’t give a damn if he was being sappy. His brother was his life. They only had each other when it came to it. Dean got to his feet and groaned. He walked to the room that connected to his brother’s quarters and knocked.

“Sammy?” he called. There was no answer. Dean sighed and opened the door. He walked towards his brother and shook him. 

“C’mon Sammy, rise and shine.” Sam didn’t move. There was a slight defensive groan from the back of his throat. Dean rolled his eyes.

“Get up Sasquatch!” Dean grinned. He walked to Sam’s window and opened it. There was a gathering of snow on the windowsill which he gathered in his hands and walked back to his brother’s bedside. He dumped the snow all over his brother and laughed as Sam’s eyes sprung open.

“What the hell!” His brother shouted as Dean began laughing his ass off. He glared at Dean.

“You’re such a jerk,” he grumbled. Dean grinned.

“Merry Christmas bitch,” he laughed. Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

“Happy Christmas Dean,” Sam corrected as he threw snow at his brother.

“Here, got you somethin’,” Dean said. He walked inside his room and pulled out a square package. Sam smiled a little and unwrapped it. He found a wizard chess set.

“Thought you’d like it, geek boy,” Dean grinned. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, Dean,” he said. His brother shrugged.

“Here,” Sam said and tossed Dean a small wrapped box. Dean smiled and opened it. It was a small Swiss army knife.

“I was able to get Filius to enchant it, so it’s unbreakable, and you won’t have to sharpen it or anything,” Sam said.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean smiled. “Come on! Christmas breakfast!” he grinned. Sam laughed.

Sam walked over to the closet and opened it. He shot back immediately, horror and dread filled his veins.

“No,” he whispered. A man stepped out and smirked. 

“Sammy,” Lucifer smiled. Sam stepped back in shock. There was a knock on the door before Minerva entered. Lucifer approached and Dean moved Sam out of the way. The figure changed and suddenly, it morphed into a duplicate of Sam. His eyes were fully black.

That’s not Sammy, not my little brother, Dean thought. 

Minerva strode forward and spoke with her wand raised. The thing changed into a pale man with black robes and a snake-like face with slits for nostrils and scarlet eyes with cat-like pupils.

“Riddikulus!” she exclaimed and the thing disappeared.

“W-what the hell was that?” Sam asked, still very pale, his skin was clammy.

“That was a Boggart. It takes the form of what someone fears most,” Minerva said.

“Who was the guy you saw?” Sam asked. 

She sighed before addressing them. “That was Lord Voldemort.

“That’s him?” Dean asked. “What kinda drugs was he on?” he muttered.

“Albus would like the staff to come to breakfast. He enjoys Christmas morning,” Minerva continued, ignoring Dean’s comment.

“Sure, just let me get dressed, and we’ll be down,” Sam replied, trying to shake the appearance of ’Lucifer’ off. Minerva left. The boys pulled on their clothes and had quick showers. Dean wore his new leather jacket and they both wore their rings from Castiel. Twenty minutes later, they were approaching the doors to the Great Hall. They walked inside and smiled. Few students were left during the holidays. They quickly looked to see Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna sitting together at the Gryffindor table. They walked towards them.

“Hey,” they said. “Happy Christmas.” Harry turned to them. 

“Hey sirs, happy Christmas,” he said. “Did you get anything good?”

“Sam got me a Swiss army knife and I got him a wizard chess set. We both got rings and I got a leather jacket and Sam got a book,” Dean replied. “Nerd,” he grinned at his brother.

“Don’t mind him,” Sam said, shooting his brother a look. They saw them grin in response.

“C’mon Sammy,” Dean said. “Dumbledore’s motioning.” Sam raised an eyebrow. And they say he’s the older one. They both approached the staff table.

“Merry Christmas Samuel, Dean,” the old Professor smiled.

“Thanks, Albus, and please call me Sam,” Sam replied, smiling. 

“Or Sammy, if you want to pi-tick him off,” Dean grinned, backtracking a little as Sam gave him a look for swearing in front of the Headmaster.

“I hope you enjoy your Christmas,” Albus said. Sam and Dean nodded 

“You too.”

Since there were so few students there for the holidays the staff sat with their House tables, making the scene more homey and comfortable. Students from other Houses mingled as well.

More parents were insisting their students come home for Christmas, once word of Katie Bell’s attack got out. Two attacks within two weeks didn’t help the reputation of the school. Katie would be okay, thankfully. She had to rest in St Mungo’s for a while, but it was looking likely that she would be back after Christmas break. 

Sam and Dean took seats beside  Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Luna. Food appeared before them suddenly and Dean grinned.

“How are you guys?” Dean asked. 

“We’re fine,” Ron replied. 

“Are you enjoying your holidays’ Professors?” Ginny smiled at the Winchesters.

“Yeah, the castle is nice at this time of year,” Sam smiled.

“Not to mention drafty….” Ron sneezed.

“Got a cold?” Dean asked. 

“No. Side effects of the poison. Don’t tell Mum.”

“No problem, I won’t,” Dean winked. 

There was a loud screech and Ron’s face paled a little. “Oh no….”  

Ginny laughed a little. Dean and Sam looked up to see Errol, the Weasleys owl hurtle unsteadily toward them, a large box clutched in his feeble claws.

Ginny put her arms out and managed to catch the bird before it flew into a large Christmas cake. “Easy there, Errol.” She petted the owl on the head and set him upright. 

“Ruddy bird…” Ron grumbled as he untied the box. “Big box this year.”

“From your Mom and Dad?” Sam examined the box tied up with brown paper and string. 

“Christmas presents,” Ron grinned. He opened the box. “Hang on, there are two extra ones in here.”

He pulled out five jumpers. “Here’s yours Harry,” he said, handing Harry a brown paper wrapped gift with his name on it. He passed the others around. “There’s one in here for you two Professors.”

Ron’s ears went pink as he spoke, looking at the letter his mother sent. “I suppose it’s a thanks for everything after Slughorn’s party…” 

“Looks like ours match again, Hermione.” Ginny smiled as she pulled out a dark pink jumper with a golden ’G’ embroidered on the front. 

Hermione smiled. “I always liked this colour,” she said as she pulled out a jumper of the same colour, with a gold ’H’.

“Maroon again!” Ron complained. “Every year…” He dug in the box. “Here we go.”

“So we get sweaters too?” Dean asked as he ripped the paper off excitedly.

“Dude,” Sam frowned at him. He looked at Ron, cheeks slightly pink. “Your Mom didn’t have to do this for us, Ron.”

“Trust me. You’ve become her hero now. She doesn’t make these jumpers for just anyone,” Ginny pointed out. 

Dean opened his, to find a dark blue jumper with a green ’D’ on it. He tried to keep his emotions in check, not used to people going out of their way to make something for them. He pulled the jumper over his head and found that it fit perfectly. “Wow… it’s warm.”

“Mum puts a warming charm on them,” Ginny told them. Sam slipped his on, it was the opposite of Dean’s colours, a dark green with a blue ’S’ on the front. The sleeves covered his hands, he folded the sleeves back once. “You missed the note sasquatch…” Dean unpinned the safety pin from the front of his jumper and handed it to him. Sam looked at the small piece of paper.

Dear Sam and Dean,

I hope you are enjoying yourselves at Hogwarts over the holidays. I made you two jumpers. It’s a family tradition. And before you say anything, I insist. You helped my son, so you deserve it. Dean, I think yours should fit perfectly. Sam, I hope I didn’t make yours too small. I made the sleeves a little longer than I normally would, you’re so much taller than Arthur… I hope you like them. It’s just a little token of our gratitude.

Molly and Arthur Weasley.

“Wow,” Sam smiled. “This is too much… Your mom is so sweet.” Ron blushed again.

“I dunno. I think it’s weird,” he mumbled.

Down in the bottom of the parcel was a small box that had the easily recognizable emblem of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes on it. 

“Awesome!” Dean grinned.

“Oh God…” Sam muttered.

“Hey, I haven’t used any of my stash on you… yet….” Dean pulled the box from the parcel and opened the card. “Dear Sam and Dean, I know Mum sent you those jumpers, she used Bill as a stand-in for Dean. We happened to be in the house when she sent these off, so we decided to send these along with Errol. I hope he makes it there in one piece. Happy Christmas from Fred and George,” he read.

“This is gonna be fun,” Dean grinned. He was about to open the box of goodies when there was a large flutter of wings. Ron was startled by the appearance of the Angel who was directly across from him at the table. He almost toppled back off the seat. 

The Winchesters turned to see their friend standing behind them. “Oh hey, Cas!” Dean grinned. “Happy Christmas.” 

“And you too,” Cas replied stiffly, blue eyes shifting between the students and the brothers.

“What’s wrong Cas?”

“Nothing Dean. I have some news. It seems that humans can escape Purgatory, something we have never heard about.”

“Who escaped?” Hermione piped up. Castiel looked at her, brow furrowing in confusion and his head tilted to the side. “Sir.” Dean’s eyes flickered to the staff table, who looked tense, with wands ready.

“It’s alright,” he said to them. They slowly lowered their wands.

“Who’s back Cas?” Dean asked.

“John Winchester and a man named Sirius Black,” Castiel said calmly.

John awoke with a groan. He stood, heart, beginning to race. He still wasn’t used to waking up to a quiet morning, not having to kill something that wanted to eat him for breakfast.

Honestly, being in Purgatory for three years took a toll on his psyche, and there was only one thing that kept him from going crazy. He sighed as he sat up and surveyed his surroundings.

Since he and Sirius ended up in Diagon Alley, they travelled to a small village, Hogsmeade, which took them a few days. Sirius was weak, and therefore, was unable to do something he called ’Apparition’. It still took him a minute to get used to this magical stuff if he was being honest, but it was starting to get more normal. If there was a ’normal’ for him anyway. They stopped to rest in an old hovel, something John was used to as he raised his boys.

His boys… Sam and Dean… He missed them so much. It was the only thing keeping him sane in Hell, with Alastair’s knife cutting into his flesh thousands of times over, and finding himself ’miraculously’ healed afterwards, ready for another round of torture. The last time he remembered seeing his sons was when they killed Azazel. He never felt prouder of them.

They did what he failed to do. 

His last words to his boys echoed in his head. He tried to patch things up before he turned himself over, but he knew he had only made things worse. For his last words to Dean, it was about the mission, don’t be scared. He remembered leaning over to his son’s ear. Dean, there will come a time when Sammy will be in danger. You have to save him, or if you can’t, you have to kill him. Speaking those words ripped his heart in two, and he wished he never had to say that to his son. The words were buzzing around in his head like a swarm of angry bees. 

John sighed. He hadn’t remembered much after Hell, apart from seeing his sons again. He watched as Dean pulled the trigger that ended that Yellow-Eyed sonofabitch that ripped his Mary from him, took a mother away from her sons, and turned their lives into ones filled with hunting, worry and pain. Nightmare monsters after nightmares. 

John walked over to Sirius and nudged him. The wizard’s eyes shot open, and he raised a wand, one he obtained after a raid of the empty Ollivanders Wand Shop. 

“Put that away, come on,” John said, rolling his eyes.

“Kay,” Sirius said, grinning. “Showtime!”

John grinned back at him, shaking his head. “How are we getting in?” 

“There’s a passage leading into the castle from here. I’d say they’d be in the Great Hall,” Sirius replied. 

“Right, let’s go,” John said. He grabbed a knife, and the salt shaker he took with him while getting food from a small pub called the Three Broomsticks. They both stood and walked to a small section of the floor, which Sirius lifted up. He got in and John followed.

“There’s a dangerous tree at the end and a specific branch has to be touched to freeze it,” Sirius said and raised his hands to John’s raised eyebrows. “Long story. Just know if you get hit, you’ll more than likely get killed.”

“I went through Hell and Purgatory, and now I have to worry about getting killed by a tree?”

John sighed as he followed Sirius through the trap door.

John and Sirius walked down the passage, and suddenly it turned, then dropped, and it was about a mile before it began to rise slightly again. Eventually, Sirius stopped and picked up a small twig. He nudged a small branch. He heard the rustling stop. 

“Come on,” Sirius said and they both climbed out. 

“Now or never,” John replied as they began walking to the castle. Sirius was moving too fast for John to admire the beautiful castle and John was worried that he would get lost if he didn’t keep up. Sirius assured him that there were no guards at Hogwarts, but John knew he didn’t want to end up in Azkaban as Sirius had been. The wizard seemed more at home in Purgatory, explaining that it was a lot like the wizard prison. 

“Hang on mate.” Sirius stopped short and transformed into a large black greyhound. This wasn’t a surprise to John. Sirius told him he was an Anim-whatever. 

In the realm of ’weird’, it didn’t really make much of a difference anyway. “Lead the way Fido.”

They walked toward the castle. John looked up and saw five figures walking toward them. John instantly saw his sons. His eldest looked up and his mouth opened in shock.

“What?” Dean exclaimed. “Cas, our Dad’s been dead for five years now, you know that.” 

“I am aware, Dean. Your father and this wizard have found a way out of Purgatory and are coming here to see you.”

Dean and Sam’s eyes were wide. Ron and Hermione looked to Harry who looked like he had been punched in the gut. 

“You can’t just spring this on us Cas!” Dean whispered angrily. “Especially about Black.” He barely registered the fact that Hermione waved her wand and mumbled a spell. 

“Sorry,” Harry asked. “You said, Sirius Black?”

“Yes,” replied Castiel simply, the significance of the name not registering with him. “Dean, they will be here in a few moments. I must go.” With that, Castiel was gone.

“I don’t believe this,” Dean muttered, “Damn Angel being so cryptic…”

“Sirius is alive?” Harry mumbled, his eyes wide. “I- I saw him...” Hermione touched his shoulder sympathetically. 

“It’ll be okay Harry,” Dean reassured. “We should go out and find them before my Dad tries to kill Malfoy or something.”

The group started towards the door hurriedly, Harry wanting to find Sirius as well. The group quickly left the courtyard and raced across the bridge into the grounds.

“Castiel couldn’t have given you more directions?” Hermione frowned. 

“The guy likes to be vague, what can I tell you?” Dean sighed. “Where would a hunter and a wizard go in a castle full of children and magical adults? God that sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

Just then they caught sight of two figures. A man and a dog were walking toward them. Sam’s heart leapt into his throat, along with all the words from his late-night conversations with himself of what he would say to John if he got the chance to meet with him. Dean was better at keeping his reactions in check, his thoughts were more centred on making sure the two men were actually what Cas claimed them to be.

“Hang on Harry.” Dean caught the young boy as he started towards the man and dog. “It could be a trap. We have to run some tests first.” Dean’s eyes landed on his father, suspicious and probing. Sam’s stance was similar, wary, and apprehensive.

“Dad?” Sam asked,  looking at his father.

“Boys,” John Winchester said. 

“You can’t be our Dad, he’s dead,” Sam shook his head as he spoke. But would Cas lie? He thought.

“I’ll prove it,” John said as he pushed a sleeve up. He dragged the knife across the skin, watching as the special silver knife gave no reaction. Sam took out a flask of holy water, opened it and threw it at his face. Again, there was no reaction.

“Dad,” Dean whispered again, finally convinced. 

“Sam, Dean,” John whispered as his sons walked to him. They looked at their father in astonishment. 

“How’d you get back?” Sam asked.

The dog barked and pulled on John’s jacket. “Had a little help,” John replied.

“Sirius!” Harry gasped. Sirius panted, his tongue hanging out and his tail wagging happily.

He padded forward and suddenly, there was no dog. In his place, there was a man. Harry met his eyes and couldn’t really see him because of the tears in his eyes. Sirius ran and hugged Harry as he crashed into him. Sirius smiled. Hermione and Ron were looking utterly gobsmacked. Dean smiled, seeing an instant change in Harry’s appearance, he looked happier than Dean had ever seen him. He looked to his brother, noticing the same thing in his expression, though it was mixed with a little bit of grief.  

“I can’t believe this,” Dean said.

“How did you make it out?”  Sam asked.

“We found out that there was a portal for humans to get through,” John said. He looked up with sudden tears in his eyes. “Boys, I am so proud of you both.”

“We had a bit of help from you,” Dean replied and John smiled sadly and nodded. Dean took a deep breath, anger beginning to pool as memories arose. The control snapped, and he strode forward and punched his father in the jaw. John looked at him in shock.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed.

“This happened a long time ago, and I’ve put it behind me. I just want to know one thing. Why did you tell me that Dad?” Dean said quietly. 

“You needed to know. I’m sorry,” John sighed, knowing what Dean meant.

“For your information, Sam didn’t ’go dark’. The others did.”

“I had to save you. I’m your father, and it’s my job to protect you,” John replied. “You should know why I did it. I know about your deal. You only have about six years left.”

“I got one year,” Dean replied and John’s eyes went wide.

“You only got a year?” John whispered. Dean nodded. “How are you alive?” John asked.

“Long story,” Dean said, and Sam smiled a little bitterly.

“Have we stopped fighting?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Sammy playing peacemaker? Boy things have changed,” John muttered to himself, but Sam and Dean snorted in amusement.

Chapter Text

Chapter 28

Several hours passed, and Sam and Dean still couldn’t believe it. Their father was alive and well. Dean remembered desperately wishing for this after his death. Trashing the Impala was only one of the things he had done, smashing the crowbar through the window, and swinging it at the trunk, again and again, denting the trunk, as if it would lessen the crippling grief he felt.

Dean was lying on the bed and turning the Swiss army knife that Sam gave him just like Jo used to do. It was his way of keeping her memory alive. Thinking of her, of Ellen, and all the other friends that had died made him feel regretful that he wasn’t strong enough to save them. And then there were the countless times that Sammy died. Each time Sam died felt like a stab to his chest. The most recent time, Dean had tried to kill himself to end it all. He realized he sounded like a hypocrite, remembering his words to Sam after he ‘saved’ him by taking him to that crackpot healer. What is dead should stay dead.

Dean looked at the long since faded scars on his wrist and then at the knife Sam had given him for Christmas. He smirked a little, thinking the gift might have been a little tongue in cheek given the fight they had at Diagon Alley. He examined the blade, watching as the light caught the metal. How easy it was to cut through the skin all those months ago. It seemed almost effortless. Now, he felt the desire beginning to pull at him again, he pressed the cold metal to his skin. He sighed, who would care if he were gone? His dad basically told him the same thing a few days before he died. Sure, he knew it was the demon talking, but the funny thing about demons is they used a slight truth then magnified it to cause more pain for their victims. The thought of that slight truth had convinced him.

He sighed. There was a knock on the door and Sam’s voice called out.

“Come on dude. Dad wants answers.” 

“He ain’t the only one….” Dean mumbled and got up walking to the door, opening it as he closed the Swiss army knife with the other hand and put it in his back pocket.

“Dad wants to know everything?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I think we should tell Harry, Ron, Hermione and that Sirius guy too. They’re involved now,” Sam said. “Just to make sure everyone is on the same page.”

“Awesome… Just fucking awesome...” Dean muttered sarcastically. “This is gonna be fun.”

Dean and Sam walked out of the room and a few moments later, they found themselves in the Demonology classroom. Dean looked over and saw his father, Harry, Sirius, Ron, and Hermione sitting in chairs inside. The members of the Order were present too. Sirius after all was a member of the Order. They were all happy to see him but kept their distance and their hands trained on their wands, just in case. The adults looked out of place sitting at the student tables, especially John, but then again he and his boys looked out of place at Hogwarts. The members of the Order watched the back and forth interrogation of the man called John Winchester with wary eyes. 

Lupin was still in shock about seeing his friend on this side of the veil. He was the only one who was close enough to Harry to restrain him, so he wouldn’t go after Sirius. While in his own heart he was grieving for Sirius just as much as Harry was.

Sirius was the one who suggested that the other marauders should become Animagi to help Lupin get through his werewolf transformation. Then, when they graduated, they all joined the Order of the Phoenix. He and James got along so well that it shocked Lupin that Sirius would have murdered Harry’s parents. But it was only later that he realized that Sirius had only become the scapegoat for indirectly murdering James and Lily when it really was Peter’s fault. 

There were many late-night conversations in Grimmauld Place during Harry’s fourth year, where Sirius blamed himself for James and Lily, but he made peace with what had happened and had come to terms with it. He served his penance for 12 years in Azkaban. Lupin felt the same responsibility, felt guilt every time he had looked Harry in the eye during his time at Hogwarts.

Now that Sirius was back, Lupin didn’t know what to think, there were several questions he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t risk asking them in front of an audience. It’s like the Winchester boys said, they have no way of knowing how the two men got back in the first place, or if they are who they claim to be. Dean had verified their existence saying that certain tests had been done but wouldn’t go into detail about them. 

As for Mad-Eye; he was sceptical of the newcomer. He didn’t have a particular issue with Sirius, but John unnerved him. After Barty Crouch Jr. had thrown him in that trunk and impersonated him for a semester he was a little weapon shy, though he’d never dare admit it.

He stood gruffly in the corner waiting and watching. Mr and Mrs Weasley had shown up a few minutes after everyone else. Molly had to drag Arthur away from John quite forcefully because he was asking too many questions about Muggles. John didn’t shy away from the questions, just answered them simply saying, “But I’m not a regular, normal, human being, so I don’t know if that has any relevance.” Then he smiled awkwardly.

With Molly being the protective mother that she was, part of her wanted to shield the children from John. But by the same token, she was happy that Sam and Dean were reunited with their father, no matter the circumstances. Despite her initial fear of hunters, she found herself accepting John, at the end of the day, he was Sam and Dean’s father after all. She didn’t know the two well, but she knew enough to know that these were good men. They deserved to have him back after they brought Ron back to her. 

Across the room, Sam and Dean were speaking to their father, keenly aware of the eyes of the others on them. The boys had many questions for John, just as he had so many for them. John waited for them to start, he had time to think of the questions that he would ask over the few days it took him and Sirius to get to the castle. 

“Where have you been all this time?” Tonks asked.

“A place called Purgatory,” Sirius explained. To the confused looks around him, he continued. “It’s where monsters go where they die. John told me that. I don’t know how I ended up there. But I’m glad I met up with John, I probably would have died without him.”

“How much do you remember, Dad?” Sam asked. “Before you…” He couldn’t make out the word died; it hung in his throat. 

“I remember the graveyard… and killing Yellow Eyes,” John said, trying to remember the past, but it was all a little hazy. Being in Purgatory, he could only remember the last few moments. He came out of Hell and grabbed Yellow Eyes, giving Dean enough time to use the Colt on him and kill that son of a bitch.  “The next thing I remembered was being stuck in that Godforsaken forest, and I met Sirius after a couple of years.”  He saw his sons nod after sparing a glance at the young man sitting with Harry.

“How’ve you boys been?” John asked. Sam and Dean exchanged a look. 

“Just awesome Dad,” Dean muttered. John frowned.

“Right,” Sam said, changing the subject. “After you died, we met the Harvelles.” John made a face at the mention of William’s family. “We went on a couple of hunts, routine things.”

“How are Ellen and Jo?” John asked. “She must be almost 30 by now.”

“Dead,” Dean replied simply, looking down. “No, thanks to us…”

“Jo got attacked by a Hellhound two years ago,” Sam clarified. “Ellen wouldn’t leave her.”

“They made a bomb to kill the Hellhounds, they gave us a shot to go after Lucifer,” Dean added bitterly. “They died to give us a shot.” He looked over to see Molly with tears in her eyes. 

“Lucifer?” John asked incredulously.

“We’ll get to that,” Sam frowned.

Hermione was sitting closest to the trio and listened with interest to hear what John had to say. She still couldn’t get over the fact that she was looking at three people that had died and come back from the grave. Her research said that there was no possible way to accomplish this with magic. She nudged Ron to get his attention and motioned to the three of them. The other Order members took notice of the three hunters as well.   

“We found out about some kids like Sam,” Dean began. “‘Special’ kids.”

“What happened to them?” John said. 

“Some of them went nuts,” Sam scowled. “They’re dead. A few months later, Yellow Eyes decided to round up all the psychic kids and make us all fight to the death. Soon enough it was only me and a guy called Jake. He stabbed me in the back when I was going to Dean and Bobby, and I bled out,” he finished. The word hit John like a ton of bricks. He paled, knowing it would’ve been bad but not that bad.

“Oh my…” Molly mumbled. Hermione, Harry, and Ron grimaced, remembering touching on this in class.

“Then, I made a deal,” Dean confirmed. “He was dead for two days and I cracked. I went to a crossroads, and I was given a year,” he said matter-of-factly, not caring that the other wizards were listening. John’s mind was still reeling from the fact that Sam died, but to hear that his eldest son made a deal and had gone to Hell? It nearly knocked the wind out of him. He remembered Alastair’s voice from the rack. Hmm, seems you’re not the only Winchester to make a deal Johnny boy. Dean will be with us real soon. 

“That was a stupid move son,” John frowned. Dean’s hackles instantly rose. 

“Fuck you,” he glared, shocking the others slightly. “Sam was dead. I saved him, that’s what you wanted.”

“The same night,” Sam continued, trying to clear the air. “We went and killed the Demon, as you know.”

“Incredible,” Arthur mumbled to himself.  

“As the year passed, I tried to get Dean out of the deal. But he wouldn’t let me, because the Crossroads Demon told him that if he tried to get out of it, I’d die. I met a demon, Ruby-”

“Or as I like to call her, ‘Bitch’,” Dean cut in.

Sam rolled his eyes but continued. “She helped us out. She saved our asses a couple of times,” he threw Dean a glare. “And agreed to help us in finding a way out of the deal. We didn’t manage to though. We were too late… the Hellhounds were set on Dean.” He paused for a minute, reliving his brother’s agonizing last moments. “I couldn’t burn him, so we buried him.”

The Order looked shocked at this revelation. John’s heart skipped. Hellhounds? The news washed over him, shocking every nerve in his body. His son met those vicious bastards. He felt a rush of guilt. He left his oldest to die at the hands of those hellish dogs, and his youngest to bury his brother. John felt a surge of protectiveness for his sons, that they had to go through it alone, but also pride, as they had got past that. Guilt also burned through him for feeling responsible for putting them in this position in the first place. But how was Dean alive?

“Four months,” Dean anticipated his father’s question. “The equivalent of forty years in Hell later, I woke up in my own grave, dug myself out and found Bobby. He tried to kill me, but after I proved it was me, we left to find Sam. We met up. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Turns out I was brought back by an Angel, Castiel. He dragged me from Hell because God had ‘some work for me to do’,” Dean said, his voice turning bitter as he finished. “We found out that Lilith, the demon that had my contract, was trying to break the 66 seals to free Lucifer from Hell.” 

Dean suddenly sighed. “Alastair… he would come over. And he would make me an offer to take me off the rack if I started the torture.” Suddenly the Demon’s words started to make sense in John’s head. Had he not made him the same offer? “Every day I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For 30 years, I told him. But then I couldn’t do it any more,” Dean said, his eyes lowering slightly. 

“Me cracking in Hell broke the first Seal.” Dean tried to stop the memories from coming back, the words that Alistair said to him coming back in a flood. “Pulled out all the stops, but John, he was, well, made of something unique,” he said. “The stuff of heroes. And then came Dean. Dean Winchester. I thought I was up against it again. But Daddy’s little girl, he broke. He broke in thirty. Oh, just not the man your Daddy wanted you to be, huh, Dean?” Dean paused for a moment, staring into the eyes of someone who understood the pain he went through. “I guess you were stronger than me.”

“You cracked? You started the fucking Apocalypse!?” John exclaimed, causing the others to look over at him. “It ain’t that simple Dean!”

“It’s not like I wanted to, Dad!” Dean said, outraged. “You have no fucking right to judge me!”

“Don’t start this ‘holier than thou shit with me.” John stood up, anger coursing through him.

“Dad, don’t tell me that you never thought about it. I know he tortured you too. They were betting for you to crack first before you escaped Hell.” 

Sam sighed, looking over to the kids and his colleagues. This is going really well… he thought to himself sarcastically.

“We died for your goddamn tirade, and you’re pissed at us?” 

“I never wanted this for you two!” John whispered angrily. 

“I’m not even getting into this with you,” Dean snapped. “We made a mess, but we cleaned it up. End of story.”

Molly stepped up, sensing an escalation in the tension among the three hunters. “Maybe we should take a break.” 

“No, it’s okay Molly,” Dean assured. His eyes were still hard, but he relaxed slightly. Sam nodded in agreement.

“Dad, be pissed all you want, but we did what we had to do. You weren’t there to tell us what to do, and you aren’t gonna start telling us now,” Sam spoke firmly, but calm. 

John thought through his response carefully. He spared a glance around the room and met with Sirius’s concerned stare. The man nodded knowingly, reminding the hunter of the conversation they had about what they would say to their boys when they got back. Sirius helped John to remember that starting a fight with his sons was not the first thing he wanted to do. 

He sighed, realizing that he didn’t have a rebellious, yet studious teenager, nor an obedient yet robotic one any more. He looked back to his sons, realizing he was looking at two young adults. The words caught in his throat at the surge of pride that shot through him. 

“You’re right,” John sighed. Dean raised an eyebrow in surprise. 

“Good, now we’re all calm, let’s get this over with,” Dean frowned, wanting this to be over as soon as possible.

“Anyway, eventually the Demons broke enough Seals, and Sam got tricked into breaking the last one when he killed Lilith, because of Ruby,” Dean continued. “I really enjoyed stabbing her,” he continued in a muttered tone, more to himself than anything else.

“With what? A regular knife can’t kill a demon,” John said, raising an eyebrow.

“This one can,” Dean said, pulling the demon-killing knife from his pocket.

Arthur edged closer to the group, fascinated by yet another muggle artefact that seemed to have magical abilities.

“Calm down Dad, it’s just a knife,” Ron muttered with a roll of his eyes.

“Where did you get that knife, Dean?” John eyed the blade curiously. 

“Ruby,” Dean answered simply. “Stole it from her. It’s my trophy, I think I earned it.” 

Sam continued the story. “We started trying to get Lucifer back in the Cage. After a while, we managed to get the Horsemen’s rings that would re-open the Cage. We found out that I was Lucifer’s vessel and Dean was Michael’s. We would have to let them possess us, and we would fight to the death. It’d roast half the planet. Dean wouldn’t do it. They brought back Adam,” John looked shocked.

“Was Adam a fellow hunter?” Tonks asked, almost afraid to.

“He was our half brother, and yeah, we know that you knew,” Dean answered Tonks while looking at John bitterly. “How could you keep him from us?”

“How did you know?” John asked. His mind reeled, thinking of his third son. He saw Dean give a pained look, and his stomach twisted in discomfort. No… not him too… “Wait, you said ‘brought back’?” His blood went cold.

“He called your phone and told us. We went to meet him, and we found out it was actually a Ghoul. It turns out Adam was killed by them. I’m sorry, Dad,” Sam said quietly.

“God…” John gasped out, looking down. 

“I knew you wanted to protect him,” Dean sighed. “It wasn’t in the Angel’s plans.”

“What do you mean?” John asked.

“After I wouldn’t say yes to Michael, they raised Adam as a backup,” Dean said. “Sam said yes to Lucifer and he and Michael had a showdown. I don’t think Adam had a chance to say no to Michael. But before we could talk to him Cas threw a Molotov at him, and he burned up in Holy Fire. Lucifer blew Cas into a million pieces in retaliation, snapped Bobby’s neck and beat the crap out of me before Sam got enough control to open the Cage with the Horsemen’s rings and threw himself in along with Michael who had reappeared. Cas was brought back, and he raised Bobby. I went to live with Lisa, an old girlfriend. Around a year later, Sam turned up. We still don’t know how he got back. I’m not sure what happened to Adam after that. Lucifer Molotoving Michael might have actually killed Adam. When Lucifer blew Cas up, it killed his vessel, Jimmy. ”

“That’s pretty much it,” Sam sighed. 

“I’d say so…” Harry mumbled, his face pale, not realizing how much the hunters had gone through.

“So, my boys are training the next generation of hunters,” John asked. His eyes moved to the three students, sitting near the wizards. Hermione looked away then, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping. Harry and Ron sat up a little taller, feeling a strange sense of pride at the look John gave them. 

“No Dad, we aren’t training killers, we are saving these kids’ lives.” Sam disagreed, walking to the door. “I’m not going to say this will be easy, but Dad, it’s going to take a while.” Dean followed. 

“You should be very proud of your boys Mr Winchester.” Minerva felt like she should speak to the boy’s defence. “They have done a great service for our students.” 

Hermione, Harry, and Ron shared a look.

“That is one messed up family,” Ron muttered, and John glared at him.

“Shut up Ron,” Hermione snapped as Mrs Weasley exclaimed “Ronald!” John picked up Dean’s phone from his desk. He left the classroom before scrolling through the contacts and pressing the green button. Does this thing even work here? Worth a try.

“Whaddya want idjit? Why didn’t you use that pigeon you sent me the last time if you wanted to talk to me?”  John raised an eyebrow.

“Hey Bobby,” he said. There was a silence

“Listen here you son of a bitch. I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night. John Winchester is dead.”

“I don’t have time for this…. Bobby , look, it’s really me. Ask me somethin’ only I would know.”

“What was our last argument about?”

“Sam leaving for Stanford. You shoved a shotgun in my face and told me to get the hell off your property,” John said. There was another long silence.

“So you’re back John,” Bobby said finally. “How in the hell…?”

“Yeah Bobby, I’m back,” John replied. “Long story short, I was in Purgatory. I got out and here I am. I found a portal that connected to the mortal world.” There was another long silence.

“I’m guessing the boys know? Since you’re using Dean’s phone.”

“Yeah, they know,” John sighed. “They’re pretty pissed at me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Bobby said sarcastically. “You were an asshole for most of their lives.”

“Are you done yet?” John frowned, knowing the hunter was right. 

A few more seconds passed by until Bobby spoke again.

“Are the boys there?” He asked. “Let me talk to ‘em.” John sighed. 

“Still don’t believe me, do you? I wouldn’t expect any less from you, Bobby. Actually, they just left. I think I can still catch them though. Hang on.” John pulled the phone away from his ear and ran out into the hall. Thankfully Sam and Dean were just a few yards away it looked like they were arguing with one another. John jogged to catch up with them. He offered the phone to Dean.

“Bobby wants to speak with you.” Dean took the phone and held it up to his ear. 

“Bobby? Yeah, it’s me.” He looked at John. “I’m not sure if it’s true either but what can we do about it now? I mean, a few months ago we didn’t know that there’s a magical castle in Scotland that trains kids on how to fly around on brooms and to wave sticks around shouting phrases in Latin.” Sam punched Dean in the arm, hand outstretched for the phone, Dean waved him off. “Bobby, there’s no need for you to come. You couldn’t find this place even if you wanted to. There’s some magic cloaking device that hides the castle from normal people. That’s a compliment for you Bobby, not an insult… Dad was travelling with some wizard that he met in Purgatory.” A pause. “Yeah, we did all the usual tests, holy water, cutting him with the knife, the whole nine yards. He’s human,” Dean looked at John, grinning. “Yup. Still an asshole.”

“Let me talk to him.”  Sam held out his hand for the phone again. 

Dean held the phone away from his ear. John and Sam couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he was apparently yelling at Dean. 

“Bob-Bobby!” Dean yelled back. “Bobby! Sam wants to talk to you.” Dean gave the phone to Sam. “I thought he was going to crawl through the phone and choke me.”

“Bobby, look, Dad is standing right here in front of me, and I’m pretty sure he’s real, and the wizard that came with him too. He poured salt in a circle around him, and he stepped out. Along with the other tests, it seems legit to me.” He sighed. “Okay, Bobby we will.” 

He hung up and handed it back to Dean.

“He’s pretty pissed at me, isn’t he?” John guessed.

“You could say that again,” Dean replied. “He doesn’t trust you, and neither do I. Not for a while anyway. I’m not the same soldier I was.”

“What is it going to take to make you boys realize that it’s really me? That I am really here, and I’m not a demon?”

“I don’t know.” Dean sighed as he turned and walked down to the Great Hall. “I guess we all have to figure it out together

Chapter Text

Chapter 29

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England, 27 ^th December 2011

Harry woke up in the stuffy room at Grimmauld Place. He groaned and put his glasses on. He yawned and sat up, scratching his head. The room was littered with his possessions, strewn across the floor. Books and parchment lay in a messy pile beside his trunk. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted under the old worn door. His stomach started to rumble, and he went to open the door with a sense of excitement.

This was the second morning waking in Grimmauld Place, and Harry was still dumbfounded. Sirius was alive. The first day, he kept staring at his godfather, a thrill of excitement in his bones. He kept feeling like he would blink and Sirius would be gone. The months of grief evaporated as he saw his Godfather again. He couldn’t believe what had happened. It changed everything. It was a shining light for him in the darkness of the last few years. Could this be the end of his time with the Dursleys? He hoped so. 

He hesitated in the doorway for a moment. To another, it may have looked like he was in a trance. It probably was partly the truth. Since Christmas Day it felt like he was in a dream,  one he did not want to wake up from. Could life be so cruel to take it away from him again?  Since his third year, He often imagined getting away from the Dursleys and living with Sirius. Of course, it wasn’t good to dwell on it.  In his fourth year, Sirius was on the run, and in his fifth, he was locked up in this very house. The idea was fraught with complications,  but he dared to hope. He wanted to walk around in Diagon Alley with him, to go to all the magical places that Sirius told him was on his bucket list. The way the Wizarding World was at the moment though, it wasn’t safe. Despite his posthumous pardon, Sirius would probably be kidnapped by Death Eaters or the corrupt Ministry in a heartbeat.

Christmas Day seemed to pass with less merriment than usual. Even though Harry was over the moon ecstatic about Sirius being back, his sudden appearance with John Winchester had thrown a wrench in Mrs Weasley’s plans for Christmas dinner. Most of the day was spent filling in Sam and Dean’s father. After a quick discussion with Professor Dumbledore, it was decided that Harry and his friends go to Number 12 Grimmauld Place for what remained of the Christmas break. 

“Sweet Merlin, Molly…” He heard Sirius grumble from downstairs. “You have this house stocked to the rafters… I can’t find a thing in here.”

“Oh relax Sirius,” Mrs Weasley chided. “I have it all organized.”

“Accio flour,” Sirius said as Harry entered the room. A bag of flour zoomed from the pantry and into his hand, a small poof of white coming from the bag as he caught it.

“See? It’s not that hard Sirius.”

“Oh, morning Harry,” she smiled, noticing him

“Good morning Mrs Weasley,” Harry greeted

“Are the others up?” Sirius asked as Mrs Weasley started mixing batter.

“I don’t think so,” Harry replied. “Can I help with anything?”

Mrs Weasley shooed him away. “No, Sirius and I have everything under control. Thank you. Go get the others up, would you, dear?”

“Sure.”

A few moments later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting at the kitchen table. Ron was trying to get Hermione to agree to a game of wizard’s chess. Sirius pointed his wand at the cooker. The dial turned, and he non-verbally cast Incendio, causing the burner to ignite and start to burn. A pot of baked beans landed gently on top. Harry smiled at the sight, realizing what he had missed out on all these years. 

Soon, everyone was gathered for breakfast. Lupin, Tonks and the Weasley family sat, sans Percy, who was still avoiding his family due to his involvement with the Ministry. Even though Mrs Weasley welcomed him back with open arms he still felt like he was alienated from them. Mrs Weasley and Sirius never completely saw eye to eye. She often accused him of reckless behaviour. Especially at the expense of her son’s Fred and George. Ever since Sirius had informed them he was one of the Marauders, they seemed to idolize him and followed him everywhere. They were even more surprised at the fact Lupin was the famous ’Moony’, cursing themselves that they never made the connection. Fred and George both rounded on Harry, demanding, no, whining, about why they were not informed his father was Prongs. 

“I didn’t know until recently.” Harry defended himself.

“Sure…” they replied simultaneously. 

Harry rolled his eyes and shared a smirk with Sirius and Lupin. 

“This looks fantastic Molly,” Tonks smiled. Her hair was once again a brilliant pink. She seemed so much brighter in the last few days. “You’ll have to show me your recipe for this gravy. I’d love to make it next year.” 

“Of course dear,” Mrs Weasley smiled, glad to have another woman around. She waved her wand and the last of the plates settled on the table.

Sirius looked up at the clock on the wall. “They’re late.” He frowned. 

“Who is, Sirius?” Fred looked at him. Ron smirked. The twins were idolizing Sirius, much like how once he had idolized Viktor Krum. He was never gonna let them live this down.

Especially because he was in on the secret.

“I invited the Winchesters. When I spoke to John. He said they were looking forward to it.” Sirius replied, absently scratching behind his ear.

“That’s a nice idea,” Mrs Weasley smiled.

“I wonder how they’re getting on with their father…” Hermione mused. “It seemed tense before. 

“A bit…. The guy was intimidating…” Ron frowned. “Bloody hell, he never stopped glaring at everyone.”

“Glaring’ is a bit of a strong word,” Ginny protested.

“You weren’t there,” Ron argued. “Gives ’if looks could kill’ a literal meaning.”

“Don’t be dramatic Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. 

“I think I agree with you Ron, dear.” Mrs Weasley passed him a plate of food. “The way they were arguing with each other…”

“They were raised differently Molly,” Mr Weasley reminded her with a small smile. “I think Sam and Dean can take care of themselves.” 

“John told me a bit about it,” Sirius spoke up. “Wouldn’t go into it much. He’s not one for touchy-feely conversations. There is a lot more going on with the three of them than we will ever know. He loves his kids. They’ll work it out.”

“I hope they’re not lost. Should we go try to find them?” Tonks looked at Lupin worriedly.”

At that moment, there was a knock on the door. 

“Charlie dear, would you mind getting the door?” Mrs  Weasley looked at her eldest son.

“Sure Mum,” Charlie replied.

“Remember to warn them…” Mrs Weasley added.

“Please don’t forget. I really don’t want to deal with my mother right now,” Sirius grimaced. 

“Bill, you’re a curse breaker,” Ron began. “Isn’t there a way to get her picture off the wall?”

“I’ll look into it,” Bill replied as the three Winchesters entered the room.

Sirius smiled at them as he stood up. “Welcome John, Sam, Dean. It’s great to see you all again.”

“Hey Sirius,” John replied. “Thanks for having us.”

“Sorry, we’re late.” Dean smiled apologetically, “Sammy here couldn’t decide what to wear.”

The youngest Winchester glared at his brother.

“I think you look smart, dear.” Mrs Weasley smiled at Sam. “Very smart.” Sam’s cheeks went a subtle pink.

“Just adorable,” Dean added.

John smacked Dean on the back of the head. Dean’s expression hardened, but he stopped himself from snapping back at his father. 

“Come down here, we’ve made room.” Mr Weasley waved them down to his end of the table. John and his sons took their seats.

“John, I don’t think you’ve met my eldest sons. This is my eldest, Bill, and his fiancée Fleur. And Charlie is down beside George.” As Mr Weasley introduced them, they nodded to the newcomers. 

“Nice to meet you,” John greeted.

“How’s the wedding planning going?” Sam asked Bill and Fleur.

“It eez difficult,” Fleur frowned. “With the war. But we love each other.” She hugged Bill’s arm closer, smiling up at him.

“We’re moving it to next year,” Bill told them. “We’d rather wait until it’s safer.”

“There is no guarantee that this will be over then,” Lupin said to no one in particular. 

“Let’s not ruin a perfectly good meal with a lot of talk.” Mrs Weasley’s friendly tone was marred by the serious set of her mouth as she dared anyone else to speak.  

Sam and Dean nodded. 

“Oh, I almost forgot. Thanks for the sweaters Mrs Weasley,” Sam spoke after a moment.

“Of course dears!” Mrs Weasley blushed. “It was the least I could do.”

“You didn’t have to get us anything, but we still love them,” Dean assured her with a grin. “England is freezing at this time of year.”

John snorted. “It reminds me of that vamp case in Maine.”

“I remember that,” Dean frowned. 

“It was about 4 below outside I think.” John mused as he decided to tell the story to the small group. “Dean had just turned 13 I think, right?” Dean nodded. “You were bound and determined to help me on that case.”

“The vamp shoved me headfirst into a frozen lake. I was lucky I didn’t get trapped under the ice,” Dean continued.

Hermione gasped. “That’s absolutely barbaric….”

“That’s a vampire for you.” Dean shrugged. “They won’t take it easy on you just because you’re kids.”

“I remember from class,” Hermione nodded.

“What have you been learning about in class?” John looked at her, trying not to look ’stern’ as Sam explained to him.

“Angels, Demons, Wraiths, Wendigos, loads of stuff,” Ron shrugged.

“Wow, covering everything, huh?”

“Pretty much,” Sam nodded. 

“Good, you need to know how to defend yourself.” John smiled. 

Dean frowned, knowing John was playing the nice guy for the moment. Though Sam did ask him to behave around the kids.  The breakfast continued on without much incident. Bill and Fleur left first after she insisted on going to check on her parents and her little sister. 

The others left soon after that after Sirius had to practically shove Molly out the door after she wanted to help clean the dishes. Sirius and Harry were left in the living room.

“So Harry,” Sirius began as he settled into his chair. “Term starts next week. Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. 

“Good, good.” Sirius nodded. There was a short silence. Neither man didn’t know what to say. 

“Look I will understand if you-”

“I wanted to talk to you-”

Both of them laughed a little as they started talking at the same time. “Why don’t you start first?” Sirius motioned to Harry. 

“Okay, uh…” Harry began. “I’m glad to have you back Sirius…”

“It’s good to be back.” Sirius smiled. “I realize the last few years were not the easiest for you, and I couldn’t really help you much. I’m sorry about that.”

“You were locked up in Azkaban. That wasn’t your fault. I understand.” Harry smiled.

“So I have a lot to catch up on.” Sirius smiled. “The twins are hanging out of my sleeve after you told them who I was.” He barked a laugh.

“They idolize you.” Harry agreed, laughing with him. “The Marauders helped them a lot with their pranking.”

“It’s good to see the next generation carrying on the traditions we started in school,” Sirius grinned. 

“I can see why Mrs Weasley calls you a bad influence,” Harry laughed. 

“Molly does have strong opinions. She reminds me a lot of Lily,” he smiled sadly. “She took no-nonsense.”

“From what I’ve heard, I can see that,” Harry smiled.

“So what have I missed?” Sirius asked.  

“Where to begin…? Ah…” Harry rubbed his hands on his legs. He explained what happened since the battle at the Department of Mysteries within the Ministry.

“Wow,” Sirius muttered. “James would be proud.”

“It’s been uneventful.”

“Are you joking, Harry? You’re having private lessons with Dumbledore.” Sirius put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s really not a big of a deal,” Harry shrugged it off, his ears turning slightly pink. “It’s just some defensive spells and stuff, just in case Voldemort tries to do me in again.”

Sirius frowned slightly, deciding to get off the subject. He suddenly chuckled. “So what about you and Miss Granger?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“What?” Harry spluttered on his pumpkin juice.

“I have eyes, Harry.” Sirius rolled them for emphasis. “Besides, I saw how Ginny couldn’t keep hers off of you this morning. Ladykiller just like your father.” 

“No, Sirius,” Harry protested. His glasses were starting to fog up slightly from the heat coming off his face. “It isn’t like that at all.” 

“Sure it isn’t…” Sirius sipped his Firewhiskey with a smile on his face. He was rather enjoying Harry’s flustered look. At this point, Lupin and Mrs Weasley would have stepped in and told Sirius to leave him alone 

“I’m just messing around,” Sirius grinned, ruffling his Godson’s hair. “You’ve got plenty of time.” 

“Sirius…” Harry began. “What was it like, wherever you were…?” 

Sirius sighed, putting down his cup. He looked Harry in the eyes. “I don’t want to frighten you, Harry,”

“You won’t,” Harry replied. “I think after all the crap Voldemort has done over the last few years, I can handle this.”

Sirius nodded, “It was a terrible place. There was no rhyme or reason to the order there. Constant killings of creatures. Any monster you could think of, all in one place.”

“Sounds horrible…” Harry mumbled. 

“It’s okay Harry, we got out,” Sirius smiled. 

“Thanks to Mr Winchester.” Harry nodded. He thought back to his reaction to the hunter after the initial shock of seeing Sirius again. Seeing elements of John in both of his son’s. No one could deny the tense atmosphere John had with his sons. Obviously, some bridges had been burned. 

“Yes, what do you really think of him?” Harry asked. “He seems difficult to get along with.”

“John has a few issues to sort out, most of them being with his children. He wouldn’t tell me much”

“Dean and Sam don’t mention him much in class,” Harry told him. “Just they use his hunting journal from time to time.”

Silence hung in the air. Part of Harry was lost for words. 

“There is something I wanted to ask you, Harry.” Sirius began.

“Of course Sirius,” Harry replied.

“I was wondering if you would consider staying here with me,” Sirius said. “You know after the term ends. I know we spoke about this during your third year but… I think James and Lily would want the two of us to stick together.”

“Sirius, I-” Harry interrupted.

“It wouldn’t be an imposition, Harry,”  Sirius cut him off as well. “I want you here. You’re family. When Lupin told me about you living with Lily’s sister…. Those awful people.” His expression turned hard like he very much wanted to say something stronger about Vernon and Petunia Dursley. “They have mistreated you for 16 years.” 

“I have to go back with them, at least for a couple of months,” Harry explained, wishing it didn’t have to be so complicated. 

“After everything they’ve done?” Sirius asked. 

“I know what they’re like,” Harry replied. “But I have to stay, at least until my birthday.” He explained further at Sirius’s confused look. “Dumbledore said it has something to do with Petunia and Dudley being my blood relatives. It’s like how Mum’s love shielded me from Voldemort when I was a baby.”

“What?” Sirius frowned.

“When Voldemort killed Mum and Dad,” Harry paused as he saw Sirius wince. “Mum tried to stop him from getting to me. When he killed her, it put some sort of protection on me.”

“So your safety lies in the hands of Petunia Dursley?” Sirius’s question was marred by his sceptical frown.

“It means I have to go back to the Dursleys because I’m around blood relatives. Just until the Trace is broken when I’m seventeen.” Harry’s voice was bitter as he spoke.

“I see…” He looked down. “If that’s what Albus thinks is best…” He sighed, and continued in a bitter mumble. “He always gets what he wants.”

“At least I only have a few more months.” Harry offered hopefully. Sirius nodded, but still looked annoyed.

“They never treated you like their own,” he said furiously. His knuckles were stark white under the tattoos from clenching them so tightly.

“They treat me as well as they can. Although, it did get a little better after I blew up my aunt.” Harry grinned.

Sirius grinned. “Ron told me about that once. Brilliant! Marjorie was a horrid woman, I met her once when I had to pick James up from Lily’s house.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes went wide.

Sirius’s grimace turned into a slightly rueful smile. “There may or may not have been a slight incident with a feral dog and her precious bulldogs….” 

“Sirius… you didn’t…”

“Damn right I did.” Sirius chuckled. “I didn’t hurt it. Just roughed him up a bit.”

“Oh, Merlin…” Harry sighed, caught between sympathy for the dogs and amusement at the image of Marge’s reaction in his mind.

Sirius chuckled a little. They started talking about subjects in school. A few minutes into the discussion, Lupin popped his head around the door. 

“Moony,” Sirius smiled. “Come join us.” Lupin nodded and smiled. He pulled up a chair. 

“Is Tonks with you?” Sirius asked.

“Yeah,” Lupin nodded. “She’s having a chat with Molly.”

“Molly should have left by now, sweet Merlin…” Sirius sighed dramatically. “I know how to keep a household just fine….”

“Oh, leave her be. I think she feels bad for how harsh she used to be with you,” Lupin smiled easily. Sirius frowned. “Sure, she’s not cleaning your house from top to bottom…”

“One thing I did not miss was your grumpiness,” Lupin rolled his eyes. “It must be the fleas…” 

“Oh, go howl at the moon,” Sirius shot back with a grin. Harry smiled. “I’m happy for you mate. Make sure you take care of my cousin.”

“I will try, but you know how Nymphadora is. She’s stubborn.”

“Oh I know,” Sirius laughed. “We’re all a little mad.” There was a slight downturn in his lips at that, not liking to bring up the insanity of his family. 

“True.” Lupin nodded. “So Harry, How are your classes going?”

“Good,” Harry shrugged. “Really well.” 

“How’s the Demonology classes?” Lupin asked Harry.

“It’s interesting.” Harry tried not to make a face. “I’m learning a lot.”

“I can’t believe Dumbledore got Muggles to teach at Hogwarts. I mean, they seem like nice people, but who thought it’d ever happen?” Sirius snorted. 

“He did hire a Werewolf for a teacher.” Lupin smiled.

“True,” Sirius shrugged. “What are they like? John was very closed off about them.”

Harry shrugged. “They’re very private. I’m surprised they let us stay when they were talking to their father. I guess they knew that there was no way to avoid it.”

“That’s probably true,” Sirius agreed.

“Dean is a bit more of a prankster, Sam is more serious.”

“Who does that remind you of?” Lupin smirked at Sirius. “You know, your name is really quite ironic.”

“Like I haven’t heard that one before Moony,” Sirius shook his head. “Haha,” he added sarcastically. 

“If James could see us now.” Lupin’s smile turned bitter. Sirius smiled sadly.

“Well, we still have Harry.” Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder and smiled down at him. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 30

12 Grimmauld Place, London, England, 6 ^th January 2012

Sirius watched Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley’s leave the house and sighed. Harry looked back at the house and waved at his Godfather. What the hell… Sirius shrugged and walked forward, transformed into the large black dog. He barked happily as he trotted beside Harry, tail wagging and tongue lolling out.

“Oh for heaven’s sake Sirius…” Molly sighed but said nothing more.

“He is technically a free man now,” Arthur pointed out.

“Not helping Arthur,” Molly frowned. 

The kids laughed as Sirius strode forward ahead of them, holding his head up high. 

“If I had a rolled-up newspaper right now….” Molly rolled her eyes. “Snuffles!” she gasped, as Sirius stopped suddenly and peed proudly on a lamppost, looking back at her in the eye. 

“Snuffles… that’s disgusting….” Hermione wrinkled her nose up. Sirius barked and Harry swore it sounded more like a laugh. He couldn’t begrudge him his happiness. Ron looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Ginny was giggling.

“This is why I don’t like dogs…” Molly sighed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long until Sirius arrived back at the dreaded House of Black, after seeing off the children. Sirius sighed as he sat in the old armchair in the drawing-room. He didn’t know what to do with himself now. He was a free man, but when he thought about it, was he really? Sirius guaranteed that if he was spotted, he’d be dragged back by Death Eaters, possibly back to his insane cousin, so she could kill him, again. He sat there and brooded over his predicament until a knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. He walked over to the door, wondering who would be coming to see him. In the back of his mind, he wondered if it could be Lupin again, worried he might be having trouble. He opened the door, revealing Albus Dumbledore standing on the doorstep. 

“Oh, Albus,” His voice was coloured with surprise and confusion. 

“Hello Sirius, may I?” the Headmaster replied.

“Of course, come on in.” Sirius stepped aside and allowed the man to enter. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“No, thank you, Sirius,” smiled Albus. “I’m afraid this is more than a social call.”

“Alright,” Sirius nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to ask you about something that was found in your home. A golden locket on a similarly golden chain. There were emeralds set in the shape of an ’S’ on its face. Does this sound familiar to you?”

“Never heard of it,” Sirius frowned. Albus appraised him sceptically. 

“I’ve never seen it. It’s probably something of my mother’s,” Sirius shrugged. “Why is it so important?”

“The locket was an heirloom of Salazar Slytherin’s. It held a curse that I was able to break. Mundungus Fletcher ransacked this house after your death, and one of the things he took was the locket.” He continued on, ignoring Sirius’s face turning from confusion to anger. “Harry found it a few weeks ago and brought it to me. He knew about the curse and knew it was of utmost importance that I break it right away. I would like to know how it ended up here, to begin with.”

“Damn Mundungus….” Sirius frowned. “Albus, I’ve no clue about the locket. I don’t know how it could have ended up here.”

“Would it be possible that  Kreacher might know?” Albus asked.

“I’m not sure. You could ask him, but isn’t he at the castle?”  Sirius inquired. “Could have saved you a trip.” Sirius frowned. Kreacher was the last thing he wanted to think about at the moment. Now that he knew of the house elf’s true treachery. Sirius remembered the panic he felt when he learned Harry and his friends went to the Ministry alone. Not only had Kreacher sold him out, but he also put Harry and the others in danger. Sirius wanted nothing more than to curse him into oblivion, never mind talk to him.

“He wouldn’t answer my questions. I’m not his master.” Sirius replied dismissively. 

“I left him to Harry. He probably wouldn’t obey me either.”

“Therein lies the trouble, you being brought back creates a problem,” Albus mused.

“Thanks,” replied Sirius sarcastically, causing Albus’s mouth to twitch in a smile. “I suppose you can try. Would you like to bring him here, or will I go to the castle?”

“I think here is easier. If you call him, we can see if you have regained ownership of him Plus he has become more agreeable. Slightly.” Sirius appraised him with a sceptical look.

“I’m sure he has… Kreacher?” Sirius called, already ready for this to be over. 

A moment passed and a loud crack boomed through the kitchen. There the elderly house elf stood, eyes widening when he saw who summoned him. 

“Master Sirius,” Kreacher mumbled, bowing absent-mindedly. “ You are alive. Kreacher thought…”

“We all know what you thought Kreacher,” Sirius spat, trying to keep control at the sight of the creature that handed him over to Voldemort. “Professor Dumbledore and I have some questions for you Kreacher,” Sirius asked. “I order you to answer them truthfully. Understand?”

“Yes, Master,” said Kreacher, lips moving in no doubt insults. Sirius kept his cool, knowing how important this was to Albus. He was curious as to why. But he knew asking Albus would have no effect.

“Last year, there was a big gold locket in the drawing-room upstairs. We threw it out. Did you steal it back?” Sirius asked. There was a moment’s silence, during which Kreacher straightened up and looked at Sirius.

“Yes. Mundungus Fletcher stole it all. Miss Bella’s and Miss Cissy’s pictures, my Mistress’s gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and the locket, Master Regulus’s locket….” Sirius was about to speak, but Kreacher’s voice had become higher pitched, close to a wail as his eyes filled with tears. 

“Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!” the elf wailed. He lunged for the poker at the grate, and Sirius snatched it before he could get there. No need for the elf to mutilate himself yet.

“Kreacher! Stay still and answer my questions!” Sirius snapped. “You said the locket was Regulus’s. Where did it come from? I’ve never seen it, or seen him with it.”

“When Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord the family was so proud, as he was too, unlike Master… who betrayed Mistress and broke her heart,” Kreacher added bitterly.

“Kreacher…” Sirius warned, holding the poker aloft. Kreacher winced but continued. 

“Master Regulus was so proud, so happy to serve … And one day, a year after he joined, he came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said … he said that the Dark Lord required an elf.”

“Voldemort needed an elf ?” Dumbledore repeated calmly.

“I don’t get it.” Sirius frowned.

“Oh yes,” Kreacher moaned. “And Master Regulus volunteered Kreacher. It was an honour, said Master Regulus, an honour for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do … and then to c-come home.”

“So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher to Gringotts Bank… to the Black family vault…”

“The Dark Lord placed the locket inside. And then he was gone.”

“So what happened when you got back here?” Sirius asked. “What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?” Sirius never got along with anyone in his family, but he tolerated his brother better than the rest.  Sure, his brother ran off and became a Death Eater, but most of him blamed the family he was brought into. Maybe if they hadn’t been Voldemort supporting psychopaths, his brother wouldn’t have run in, wand sparking and gotten himself killed when he realized he bit off more than he could chew, and tried to leave. Could this creature that he despised so much give him insight on his brother.

“Master Regulus was very worried, very worried,” croaked Kreacher. “Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then … it was a little while later … Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he was usually, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell … and he asked Kreacher to take him to Gringotts Bank, where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord …” The house-elf started to cry even louder, sniffling and wiping his snot on his pillowcase clothing. The two wizards listened intently to the house-elf.

“M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had,” said Kreacher, tears pouring down his face. “And he told Kreacher to take it and to switch the lockets …”

“What?” Sirius asked in surprise. What was he at…? He thought. He was loyal to Voldemort. What would have caused him to change his mind?

“He ordered Kreacher to leave without him. He told Kreacher to go home…and never to tell my Mistress what he had done but to destroy the first locket. Kreacher swapped the lockets and watched … as Master Regulus … was engulfed in flame by the dragons…”

“Regulus did a very wise thing,” Albus told the elf. Sirius’s head snapped towards the Headmaster, realizing his whole childhood of hatred was misplaced.

“Why is this locket so bloody important anyway?” Sirius asked incredulously, voice slightly shaky.

“The locket is a very important piece of the puzzle into bringing down Lord Voldemort,” Albus said simply.

“How? You mean actually killing him?”

“I am not too sure yet,” Albus lied easily, looking back down at Kreacher. “But I believe Regulus knew the truth and worked undercover to bring him down from the inside.” The words hit Sirius like a brick wall. His stomach dropped. “He was a spy?” Sirius’s voice was hollow as he slumped down in one of the kitchen chairs. “Oh, Merlin…” The poker fell from his hands with a sharp clatter.

“So you brought the locket home, and you tried to destroy it?” Albus asked, getting back to the task at hand.

“Nothing Kreacher did, made any mark upon it,” moaned the elf. “Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work … So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open … Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his Mistress was mad with grief because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened…” Kreacher was wailing again, rocking back and forth, looking tortured.

“Kreacher,” Albus spoke calmly. “We have found the locket and managed to destroy it. Regulus did not die in vain. Your mission has been completed. You may go back to Hogwarts now if you like.”

If it was possible, the house-elf sobbed even louder and wailed, sinking to the floor. He disappeared with another crack.

“I don’t believe it….” Sirius ran a hand over his face. “Regulus was against Voldemort this whole time… I never knew.”

“I realize this may be hard to hear,” Albus replied. “I’m sorry Sirius. Thank you for helping me get this information. But, there is one more thing I must discuss with you.”

“What else would you want from me?”
“I’m sure you know by now, the truth about the Ministry battle.” Sirius nodded and Albus continued. “Sirius, Kreacher gave that information to Narcissa and Bellatrix because they treated him better than you did yourself. He was feeding them information about not only you, about the Order, for months because he did not like his current master. If you treated him with kindness instead of hatred, he might not have betrayed you.”

“I know,” Sirius nodded and sighed. “You don’t know what that elf was like. He was as twisted as my family. Just another reminder of how mad they were. I know he wouldn’t have done it if I was nicer to him… I’ll… I’ll try.”

“That is all I can ask for Sirius.”

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

January came bearing slightly warmer weather than December had brought. Dean was in his and Sam’s room in the staff quarters going over their class plans. The past couple of days were tough on the three Winchesters. The brothers were still barely talking to their father, but it had got slightly better, only contributing to the proof that they loved their father dearly. Things were struggling along. Dean and Sam, after some discussion, decided to share a room and give their father the other. After all, what was sharing a room to them? Nothing they weren’t already used to. They had grown up in the same room all their lives. Sharing a room was partly for their comfort, and also due to the fact that neither son wanted to sleep in the same room as their father. ’Why do I have to give up my room?’ Dean scowled. Sam asked him if he really wanted to share a room with his father, and it shut Dean up quickly.

Dean had been feeling worse and worse since John’s arrival. He was happy to have his father back of course, yet the nagging in his head never stopped. His father gave his life for him. It brought a wave of grief so intense that it threatened to push Dean over the edge. He fought with severe depression since his teenage years but never said anything. He just sat back and drank until his mind went numb. Booze had been the answer for years. What was it that Bobby said only a few months before? Just because it kills your liver doesn’t mean it’s not medicine. How true that was. It numbed the pain and the fear of whether he was going to make it another day. It was a constant battle. They never knew when they would die, not that anyone did of course, but they had both died multiple times at this stage, so the blackness of death did not hold any peace. 

Dean’s eyes peeled open to the sunlight streaming in the window. He became aware of a knocking on the door that joined to their father’s room. Great… He pushed himself out of bed and pulled the doorknob, revealing his father. 

“Thought you two would be up by now,” John noted. 

“Wha…?” Sam mumbled, sitting up. “Dad?” he wiped his hand over his face. Usually, Sam was the first up, but he’d spent most of the night, even after Dean gave up and went to bed, planning the first lesson back after the Christmas break the next day.

“I made some changes,” John announced walking in past Dean, a scroll in his hand

“You what?” Dean asked. “Well come on in then….” He asked as he got up.

John immediately went to the table and sat down. Dean and Sam got out of bed and approached him, sharing a glance. This is bound to be fun, the look seemed to say.

“Wait, are those my lesson plans?” Sam asked as he looked at the scroll.

“They are,” John replied. “I looked over them. This ’viewing memories’ stuff isn’t going to work.”

Sam looked over the scroll. Crossed out words with scrawled paragraphs in the margins were littered all over the page, with some entire paragraphs struck through. Sam’s organized lesson plan now looked like anarchy.

“What have you done?” Sam nearly growled.

“Sam and I stayed up all night doing that,” Dean looked at his father with hard eyes. “And what’s that ’memory stuff won’t work?’ crap?”

“These kids need more hands-on experience.” John frowned.

“That’s what the training classes are for,” Sam snapped, looking over the scroll. “You changed everything. Half of this is outdated lore. ”

“What do you want us to do? Throw them into the Forbidden Forest and say ’may the Force be with you?’  Dean rolled his eyes. “Or drag a demon into a class of thirteen to seventeen-year-olds? That’ll go over real well Dad.”

“Our lesson plans are fine,” Sam agreed with his brother. “You’re back five minutes, and now you wanna take over?”

“McGonagall said she wanted me first. I’m just trying to help you.” John’s expression hardened. 

“Well, you’re not.” Dean snapped. “Our way works, and it doesn’t put the kids in danger, but they see what has to be done first hand. Trust me. They’re traumatized enough.”

“These kids are in a damn war. Even we don’t know everything about it. Some of the students have had family killed, been pulled out of school. Their lives ruined.”

“Sam, don’t even bother,” Dean scowled and turned on his father. “You don’t fucking get to tell us how to run our classes. You’re on thin ice with us as it is. Don’t push it, asshole.”

John’s eyes were wide with shock before they turned to anger.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, boy?” John’s voice was cold as he stepped closer to Dean.

“Get the fuck out of my face,” Dean glared. “If you know what’s good for you. Look, maybe in time things will blow over, but back the fuck off for five goddamn minutes and see if that’ll happen before you try to take over!”

“Dean’s right,” Sam added. “For once just back off. We’ve had time to simmer down about some of the crap you pulled, but you being back blows it right back up again. We don’t need your help with the classes. Not only that, but we know a lot more than you think, more than you’ve found out.”

“Fine. At least let me sit in on your class.”

“No,” Dean snapped at once. “Absolutely not.”

Before John could answer, Dean’s phone started ringing.

“We’re not done here.” Dean glared at John as he walked into the other room to take the call. “Hello?” he greeted, angrier than he meant.

“Hey Dean,” the voice of Bobby Singer sounded through the speaker, sounding tired and stressed. 

“Bobby, are you okay?” Dean picked up on his tone. Sam came through the doorway and Dean pressed the speaker button. 

“What’s going on Bobby?” Sam asked.

“Case went bad,” Bobby replied. “Rufus is dead.”

“What?” Dean’s eyes were wide as he looked at his brother. “No… this isn’t happening. What the hell happened?”

“We found some new creature. Khan Worm. It gets into your head and controls you. Rufus and I went looking for it after a string of deaths. Ran into your grandpappy and one of your Campbell cousins.” Dean and Sam looked at each other.

“I hope you kicked Samuel’s ass for us,” Dean replied. “After everything that bastard did.”

“I know, I know,” Bobby replied, thinking of Samuel’s betrayal, handing the brothers over to Crowley in return for his daughter’s resurrection. “That’s not everything. Samuel and Gwen are dead too.”

“Shit….” Both brothers didn’t know how to feel. “Do we need to come home?”

“No, It’s-” 

The line disconnected suddenly, causing a shiver of panic to pass through them. Suddenly Bobby Singer appeared before their eyes, the phone still raised to his ear.

“What in the hell…?” Bobby asked, his eyes wide. He lowered the phone slowly. “Where in the hell am I?!”

“You’re in Hogwarts…” Dean replied. “How, I haven’t a clue why…”

“What happened?!” John burst in. “Bobby?”

“Balls…” Bobby sighed.

Chapter Text

Chapter 31

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 10 ^th January 2012

Several days passed since Bobby’s arrival at Hogwarts, and it caused a bit of an issue, to say the least. The first few days were spent explaining the inner workings of Hogwarts to Bobby, and all the while restarting classes with the students. They were still wondering how in the hell Bobby got there in the first place. They looked at various possibilities, even contacting Cas and asking him. When the Angel said no, they gave up trying to explain it.

Bobby and John joined the staff table at all the meals much to Snape’s ire. But Dumbledore must have explained to him that it was probably in his best interests to leave it alone. Sam and Dean threw themselves back into work for classes. Bobby even joined in on one or two of them, adding in his knowledge and expertise.  It seemed to make John a little on edge that his boys still didn’t trust him. 

Dean would have been lying if he said he didn’t take any satisfaction from watching John squirm just a little bit. John, to his credit, bit his tongue. It was still tense between John and his sons, neither brother wanting to talk to their father much. After the argument between them over the classes, they kept a bigger distance from John. After all, Dean said they would forgive John eventually, but it would take time. Sam still stood by the conversation he had with a younger John when they’d gone back in time to the late 1970s.  He understood why John did what he did, but he was not in charge any more.

Teaching had to be placed on the back burner for now, the bigger problem was Eve. If she was creating new creatures, it probably wouldn’t be long before Voldemort tried to reach out and recruit her for his army. Bobby told them that Rufus spoke of a ’Mother’ while possessed by the Khan Worm before his death. 

In July, before Dean and Sam had even come to Hogwarts, a case hunting Dragons led them to discover the first mention of the Mother of All, in Bobby’s house.

“It basically describes this place. It’s like the backside of your worst nightmares. It’s all blood and bone and darkness. Filled with the bodies and souls of all things hungry, sharp, and nasty.” Bobby read from the book in his hands.

“Monsters?” Sam asked.

“It’s monster land. According to this, it goes by many names, most of which I can’t pronounce, but I’m thinking you know Purgatory.” Bobby frowned.

“Purgatory? Awesome. Well, that is good to know. So, you’re saying that these, uh, dragon freaks were squatting in the sewers and reading tone poems about purgatory?” Dean snorted.

“Oh, no, no, no. They’re reading an instruction manual.” Bobby shook his head.

“What?”

“Yeah. If you’re nuts enough to want access to a place that gnarly, this book will show you how to open a door.” Bobby turned a page.

“Door to purgatory. Well, I know a demon who would have loved to have known about that. So, how do you open the door?”

“Ask Cloverfield. I’m pretty sure he’s got that page. It gets worse.” Bobby pointed to a passage. 

“Worse?” Sam asked, dreading the answer.

“This ain’t talking about how to take a vacation over there. This is all about opening a door to let something in,” Bobby replied.

“Bring something here. What?” Sam asked, curious.

“I’m working on it.”

“Could you give us something?” Dean demanded impatiently.

“I got a name. Mother.” Bobby

“Mother? Mother of what? Mother of dragons?” Sam snorted, thinking of Daenerys Targaryen in A Song of Ice and Fire.

“I wish. It says it a few times here. ’Mother of All.’” Bobby pointed to a title.

“What the fuck does ’Mother of All’ mean?” Dean frowned.

“I don’t know.”

So now they began their search. It was obvious Eve was brewing something big. So they needed something to find, trap and kill her, and they needed to do it fast. This meant long nights researching and lots and lots of coffee. They even took a brief trip back to the U.S. via Portkey, raiding one of Samuel’s old lock-ups, hoping to find something interesting. They brought some things of interest back to Hogwarts. John was shocked to learn of Samuel’s resurrection. He was starting to believe that Dean was right about the world being different from when he was alive. 

They began pouring through books. Sam, Dean, John, and Bobby were in the Demonology classroom late into the evening, books strewn on each table. Sam and Dean were reluctant to let John help, but they eventually relented. They took the divide and conquer approach. Bobby tried going to the library once to grab more books on the occult but got freaked out by the restricted section. He was a little leery of the magical happenings in the castle but kept an open mind. He seemed to like the refillable coffee mugs though. Bobby suddenly spoke up after hours of research.

“Bingo. Either of you jokers ever heard anything about a Phoenix?” Bobby asked.

“River, Joaquin, or the giant flaming bird?” Dean joked. Sam shot him a look, obviously not in the mood for games at 3 am.

“It says here that the ashes of a Phoenix can burn the mother.” Bobby read.

“The Mother of All?” Sam asked for clarification and Bobby nodded.

John sighed as he put down the book he was looking at, grabbing a cup of coffee. “It couldn’t be something simple like an incantation over a sacred blade?”

“It’s never that easy,” Sam replied.

“Great. So, where do we get one?” Dean smacked his hand on the table.

“You got me. I thought it was a myth.” Bobby shrugged. “It’s not like we can just find one lying around somewhere.” 

Sam frowned, something was bugging him, like some obvious solution to their problem was within reach, but he couldn’t think of what it was.

“All right, great. Well, let’s see if we can find something out about a Phoenix.” 

Everyone grabbed a book again and started reading. The time seemed to drag by, especially for Dean. He dragged another book off the pile and opened it, not expecting much, but he got a thrill of excitement as he spotted the word ’Phoenix’ in a very old leather-bound book.

“Guys. Guys, check this out.” Dean joined Bobby, John, and Sam at the table and began to read from the book in his hands. “’March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. Gun killed a Phoenix today. Left a pile of smouldering ash.’”

“Really? Whose gun?” Sam looked interested.

“Colt’s,” Dean answered with a grin. “Obviously.” 

“Colt? Colt like –” John’s eyes widened.

“Like the Colt. From…” Dean held up the book, grinning. “… Samuel Colt’s Journal.”

“What?!” Sam grinned “That’s his?”

“Yeah.” Dean’s grin matched his brothers as he looked down at the book like the pages were made of gold. 

“Dude, no fucking way,” Sam laughed.

“Dude, yes fucking way.” Sam grabbed for the book. “Well, let me see it.” Dean held it away from Sam. “Shove off, get your own.”

“Cut it out.” Bobby hit him on the head with another book. “Well, what else did he say about the Phoenix? What does it look like? Has it got feathers?” Bobby asked.

“It just says ’Phoenix.’” Dean shrugged, examining the page one more time. 

“Apparently Samuel wasn’t one for being long-winded,” John replied, reading over Dean’s shoulder.

“So get this, from what I know about Phoenixes, they can never die. They are always reborn from their ashes,” Sam explained.

“Did he say where he tracked it?” Bobby looked at Dean. Dean shook his head.

“All right, so I guess we got to find one of our own.” Sam sighed.

“I know where we can find one,” Dean grinned. “March 5, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. We’ll ’Star Trek IV’ this shit. We hop back in time, we join up with Samuel Colt, we hunt the Phoenix, and then we haul the ashes back home with us.” Dean smiled at the thought of meeting his hero: Samuel Colt. 

“Time travel?” Bobby rolled his eyes

“Yeah,” Dean replied like it was the sane option.

“You realize you’re in a magical school right? Where you’re surrounded by thousands of magical objects? There’s probably a hundred better options.”

“Don’t see you suggesting any,” Dean snapped.

“You’ve been here for a couple of months now, you didn’t think to check?” John retorted. “We didn’t even know Eve was a thing!” Dean glared. Here we go… Sam thought.

“Would you both just shut the hell up?” Bobby slammed a book shut. “We won’t get anywhere arguing you idjits.”

“You’re right Bobby, I’m sorry,” Dean replied, ignoring John. Silence fell.

“So, does anyone know how we can get back to March 5, 1861? And no judgments.” Bobby warned.

“Time travel…” Sam mused to himself. “Wait, there’s something Hermione said once. She had something one year that allowed her to travel in time.”

“What was it?” Dean asked.

“She called it a Time-Turner,” Sam replied, still in thought. His face fell. “Shit.”
“What?” John asked. 

“They were all destroyed last year,” Sam frowned. “She told me. I forgot.”

“Awesome, back to square one,” Dean grumbled, downing a shot of Firewhiskey. “What now?

“Oh Fuck… doesn’t Dumbledore have a Phoenix?” Sam asked, realizing. “Why the hell did I not think of this before?!”

“Son of a bitch….” Dean grinned, “Let’s go ask him if he’s got any of its ashes.” 

Sam and Dean rose to their feet at once, moving towards the door.

“You two, stay here. Don’t kill each other,” Sam instructed. The brothers left at once, making their way toward the Headmaster’s office. “Do you think he would keep something like that?”

“I have no clue, but we have to try.”

The two brothers moved through the various corridors and moving staircases until they reached the giant gargoyle statue.

“Éclairs,”  Sam guessed. “Toffee apple, Lemon drop,  mint humbug.” He started reeling off all of the British candy he heard of on TV over the years. Suddenly, the gargoyle started to move.

“Awesome. Well done Sammy,” Dean congratulated.  They walked up the stone staircase and knocked on the door. A moment passed before it opened with a  quiet creak.

“Sam, Dean, what can I do for you at this late hour?” Albus asked, peering through his half-moon spectacles at them, smiling. The wizard was dressed in purple pyjamas, and a pointed matching nightcap. 

“Sorry for waking you up this late Professor, but we have an important question to ask.  We need your help.” Dean asked. Albus stepped aside and allowed them to enter.

“What can I do for you?” Albus asked. 

“You have a Phoenix, right?” Sam asked.

“I do,” Albus smiled curiously. “Fawkes is his name.”

“Professor, we received word from home that there is a danger to not just the States, but everyone. A creature named Eve was risen from Purgatory.”

“Purgatory?”

“We don’t know much about it, but apparently it’s where monsters go after they die.  According to our research, Eve is the mother of all monsters. There have been outbreaks of new monsters that hunters have never seen before. One of which has killed some of our friends.” Dean looked away, thinking of Rufus. 

“We believe that Eve is behind it,” Sam explained.

“How may I help you with this?” Albus asked them. “And my condolences.”

“We were researching and came across Samuel Colt’s Journal,” Dean told him, handing him the book. “Colt is a man that created a gun that was thought to kill just about anything. But, back in the 1800s, he killed a Phoenix with the gun. Phoenix ashes are the only thing that we know of that can kill Eve. We were hoping you had some of the ashes from Fawkes.” Dumbledore looked at the page Dean showed him. 

“Am I right in saying that Phoenixes can be reborn?” Sam asked as Albus spoke Fawkes’s name. A small bird with scarlet and gold feathers flew onto a perch near Dumbledore’s side. It chirped happily as it cuddled into Dumbledore’s hand. 

The boys were a little underwhelmed by the creature sitting before them, it was definitely smaller than they thought it would have been. It looked like it was still a hatchling. Dean was expecting to see this magnificent firebird with a long beautiful tail. This just looked like Tweety Bird, but red, and magical.

“Yes, they can. It’s a shame that this Samuel Colt struck down such a glorious creature. They really are remarkable birds. But what is in the past cannot be undone. It just so happens you have caught Fawkes a few days after a Burning Day. He was reborn again two days ago. I have some ash,” he smiled. “It’s a good thing you caught me when you did. I was about to have the house-elves sweep it away. The ash is beneficial to the health of a reborn Phoenix.”

“Could we have some?” Dean asked. 

“If you don’t mind,” Sam added.

“Of course,” Dumbledore smiled. 

It seemed like no time at all that Sam and Dean were walking toward the Demonology classroom with a large vial of grey ash and even larger smiles on their faces. They burst through the door. Bobby and John looked up. 

“Any luck?” Bobby asked. Dean grinned and held up the vial.

“Good job boys,” John smiled. 

“Now, how do we summon this bitch?” Dean asked.

“That is an excellent question.” John frowned down at the book he was reading before they came in.

“I think I found something here. The ingredients seem simple enough,” Bobby said, shoving his book toward them.

“Right. Now we just need a place to put her…” Sam frowned. “We can’t risk the students.”

“You’re missing a prime opportunity to get them hands-on experience,” John grumbled.

“Don’t start damn it,” Dean glared. “They’ll be torn to pieces!”

“Hold on… what was that place Harry told us about? The room of need or something.”

“Room of Requirement.” Sam corrected.

“Whatever.” Dean waved off his brother. 

“How do we find it?” John asked. 

“Harry told us it’s a room that changes itself according to what the person needs. It’s on the seventh floor. You need to walk by the entrance three times thinking of what you need,” Dean explained. “Sounds good for a trapping a Purgatory bitch.”

“Hang on, do you think we could use some backup?” Bobby asked. “Calling Cas might not be a bad idea.”

“Cas?” John frowned.

“The Angel that pulled me out of Hell, remember?” Dean reminded him. John noticed his son’s hand went to his shoulder absent-mindedly.

“Okay… Cas? You got your ears on? We need your help. We got a lead on Eve, and we can kill her.” We’d appreciate some Angelic backup.”

 Nothing happened. 

“Damn it Cas, we need your help here,” Dean called. 

“Are you sure he isn’t deaf?” John smiled. Dean glared at him.

“Dean,” A voice sounded from right behind Dean. Dean turned, hand to his chest, heart pounding beneath.

“Goddamn it, Cas!” Dean panted. “Stop sneaking up on us!”

“My apologies,” Cas replied. “You have a lead on Eve?”

“Yeah, we figured we needed some help,” Sam replied.

“Of course.” Cas nodded.

“So this is what an Angel of the Lord looks like?” John appraised the Angel.

“Hello John Winchester,” Cas replied.

“Okay, introductions over, let’s go,” Dean said hurriedly.

The five men walked through the Castle, reaching the seventh floor quickly. Sam and Dean both found the spot Harry had told them about.

“Here goes nothing,” Dean sighed. Both he and Sam passed the door three times, thinking intently of their need for somewhere to trap Eve.  Bobby and John watched them sceptically (at least that was one thing they could agree on; that Sam and Dean had a few screws loose). Cas seemed to be impassively curious but made no comments. After a few attempts, a large door appeared in the stone before them.

“Cool,” Sam muttered. “Thanks, Harry.” Everyone walked inside. The room was mostly empty, sigils appearing on the walls.

“Protective sigils,” Cas explained as he examined them.

“This room is awesome,” Dean grinned. “Already juiced up with protection.”

The men got to work setting up the spell. Bobby mixed the ingredients in a bowl and began the incantation. Bobby soon finished and ignited the concoction. 

The figure of a woman appeared in the centre of the room. She was beautiful, with long brown hair down to her mid-back, and blue eyes. She looked upon the people before her and smiled. Suddenly, Cas, Bobby, and John vanished. 

“Don’t worry,” the woman said. “Your friends are safe. We need to talk. Alone.”

“Let me guess. Eve.” Sam stated.

“Pleasure.” Eve smiled.

“Why don’t we step outside? Chat?” Dean asked.

“Why? This is private.” Eve was still smiling. She sniffed the air. “Phoenix ash. I’m impressed. I bet you had to go a long way for that.”

“You have no idea.” Dean shrugged. Instantly, their guns started to burn red-hot. Sam and Dean dropped them. They watched in horror as the guns melted into nothing but a useless lump of metal.

“Relax. I’m not here to fight.” Eve said as if trying to soothe a small child.

“No? Just to rally every freak show on the planet, bring in Khan Worms and half-assed spidermen, and dragons. Really, sister? Dragons?” Dean glared at her.

“So I dusted off some of the old classics. I needed help.” Eve shrugged.

“With what?” Sam scoffed. “Tearing apart the planet?”

“You misunderstand me. I never wanted that. Not at first,” Eve said. Dean scoffed. “I liked our arrangement,” she continued.

“What arrangement?” Sam asked.

“The natural order. My children turned a few of you, you hunted a few of them. I was happy.” Eve answered.

“Okay, so what changed?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“My children. No, thanks to you, started getting kidnapped and tortured. Even my firstborns. I was pushed into this. After all, a mother defends her children.” Eve replied.

“Really? You’re gonna use the Mother of The Year defence? You?” Dean rolled his eyes.

“It happens to be true. Know what? Maybe you’ll believe it if I look a little more like this.” Eve said and suddenly, her figure changed. Her hair became blonde and her facial structure changed. Suddenly, Mary Winchester stood before them. Sam and Dean’s expressions hardened.

“Oh, you fucking bitch.” Dean spat.

“She died to protect you, didn’t she? See. You understand a mother’s love. I am no different from her,” Eve stated simply.

“Alright, you know what?” Dean threw his hands in the air. His anger at the fact that some monster decided to use his mother’s face as a bargaining chip, was boiling over. “This conversation’s over. If you’re gonna kill us, kill us.”

“You? No. It’s Crowley I want dead.” Eve replied, her voice deadly serious. Sam and Dean almost laughed.

“Well, you’re too late there. That little limey mook got roasted months ago,” Dean replied. “Guess you didn’t get the memo.”

“Crowley’s alive,” Eve smiled. Something about her expression told them she was telling the truth.

“That’s impossible.” Sam scowled.

Eve scoffed. “I see his face through the eyes of every child he strings up and skins. Any idea why he’s hurting my babies?” she asked.

“He wants Purgatory, right? Location, location, location.” Dean asked, trying to get past the surprise of Crowley being fucking alive.

“Is that what he told you?” Eve laughed. “It’s about the souls.”

“What about ’em?” Sam scoffed.

“Their power, you simple little monkey,” Eve mocked. “Fuel. Each soul a beautiful little nuclear reactor. Put ’em together, you have the sun. Now think what the King of Hell could do with that vast, untapped oil well. How powerful he’d be. Now, Crowley wants to siphon off my supply, and torture my children to do it? Okay, fine. I’ll quit playing nice. I’ll turn you all. Every soul, mine. Let’s see how hot his Hell burns when everyone comes to me. He asked for it.” Threatened Eve.

“You know, last I checked, there were a few billion of us. That plan might take a while.” Dean shrugged. “Good luck.”

“What exactly do you think I’m doing here?” Eve asked. “I’m building the perfect beast.”

“Wait a second, all those — all those things we’ve been finding.” Sam realized,

“Call it beta testing.” Eve smiled.

“Well, I think your formula might be a little off. They’re imploding all over, from what we hear,” Dean told her. He could have kicked himself for not being back in America to stop this from happening, but he realized that there was nothing to be done about it for now.

“Oh, there were a few unfortunate failures. But I eventually got it right. Quiet, smart, inconspicuous. It can spread through a whole town in under a day. There’s nothing you can do about it now.” Eve shrugged. “So let’s talk.”

“Nothing to say,” Sam replied.

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Eve countered. “I have an offer to propose. Crowley. As you know, not so easy to find. So, here’s the deal. You find him, bring him to me… I let you live.”

“Pass.” Dean frowned, not wanting to be a supernatural being’s lackey. Sam looked to his brother. 

“Dean,” Sam argued.

“Sam, no. The answer is no.” the older brother snapped back.

“You say that like you have another option.” Eve smiled.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.” Dean shrugged.

“You think?” Eve asked. 

Bobby John and Cas suddenly appeared in the room.

“What the hell…?” John muttered, seeing the creature impersonating his late wife. “Mary?”

“Not even close. Well, so much for your plan B.” Eve grinned and turned to look at Cas. “And you, wondering why so flaccid? I’m older than you, Castiel. I know what makes Angels tick. Long as I’m around, consider yourself unplugged.” She turned back to Sam and Dean. “Work for me. It’s a good deal. Bonus, I won’t kill your friends.”

“Alright, look. Before we came here we were working for an evil dick. We’re not about to sign up for an evil bitch. We don’t work with Demons. We don’t work with monsters. And if that means you gotta kill us, then kill us!” Dean took a step forward,

“Or, I turn you. And you do what I want anyway.” Eve smiled.

“Beat me with a wire hanger, answer’s still no.” Dean frowned. Eve suddenly grabbed Dean’s shoulders and placed her head next to his. A shiver ran through his spine. John stepped forward to help his son, but Bobby stopped him.

“Don’t test me,” Eve warned. 

“Bite me.” Dean challenged. Eve sank her teeth into Dean’s throat. Dean winced as red-hot pain shot through his neck.

“No!” Sam and John exclaimed. Bobby’s eyes went wide.

“Dean!” Cas yelled. Eve suddenly staggered backwards, looking at Dean in horror. Her hand went to her throat. Dean smirked.

“Phoenix ash.” he grinned. “One shell, one ounce of whiskey before I came in here. Down the hatch. Little musty on the after-burn. Call you later, Mom.” Dean mocked. A blinding light shone from Eve’s chest. Her form changed back into the beautiful brunette woman. She continued to cough, choke and clutch her throat. Dark liquid started to pour out of her mouth and nose. Her body hit the floor, dead.

Sam sighed in relief, internally cursing Dean for not letting him in on the plan. “Hey Cas, um, Dean’s bleeding pretty good.”

“Yeah, I think she turned me into something weird…” Dean winced in pain. “Could you clear that up too?”

Cas put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. The hunter pulled his hand away from his throat, and the skin was untouched like it never happened.

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean sighed. 

“What in the hell is wrong with you?!” John roared as he grabbed Dean and pulled him over to the side. 

“Dad?!” Sam yelled. Bobby pulled Sam back. “You need to let this happen, son.”

“What’s your problem?” Dean growled. “I ganked the bitch, I thought you’d be happy!” 

“She could have killed you! I could have lost you….” Suddenly the anger in John’s voice was replaced with grief, then relief. “I’m not ready to let you go just yet.” He wrapped his arms around his son. Dean looked back at Sam and Bobby, a shocked look on his face. He recovered just enough to add, “What, you thought I came in here with no plan? Come on old man. I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” 

It wasn’t long before everyone was in their respective rooms. Cas left pretty soon afterwards, needing to return to Heaven to assist in the war with Raphael. It left Sam, Dean, Bobby, and John in the boys’ room,  sharing a bottle of Firewhiskey.

“So, another big bad of the list,” Dean smirked.

“Yeah, but now we have Crowley to worry about,” Sam frowned. “We burned his bones. I don’t get it.”

“I don’t either.” Dean brooded over his Firewhiskey, wondering if there was some connection… It couldn’t have been a coincidence that John and Harry’s Godfather came back from Purgatory just days before the mother of all monsters decided to show up. Maybe she was going to use them as a bargaining chip to help away Sam and Dean’s decision? Or did they slip through one of the back doors Crowley was trying to find to get into Purgatory?

Chapter Text

Chapter 32

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 17 ^th January 2012

“God, I’m exhausted,” Dean complained, pouring some coffee into his mug.
“You’ve said that about ten times now,” Sam pointed out.
“And ten times now, you’ve ignored my plight,” replied Dean petulantly.

John was already sitting with them, and beside him, as was Bobby. They were both quietly discussing the best way to take down a Djinn. The last week had been tough. The boys appreciated their father’s help with the whole Eve situation, but things weren’t smoothed over completely yet. Even though they had sort of made up after he chewed Dean out for being basically a human sacrifice to get Eve. He thought back to the argument he had with his sons.

Looking back, he was a goddamn asshole. Here he was, back five minutes, and he was taking over. They were right. These thoughts took over John’s brain as the boys, he and Bobby finished breakfast and walked toward the Demonology classroom. It was a miracle that they were even letting him sit on today’s lesson; Reapers.

The students started trickling in a few at a time and Dean started to pull out the memories.

First, there was Tessa the night that his Dad died, oh and let’s not forget the time that Dean himself became Death. Of course, with their backgrounds what Reaper wouldn’t want to follow them around? He-heh… our groupies…. He thought to himself.

John was sitting in the doorway of the office observing them silently. Sam was checking the slides that he had prepared to give the students a better visual aid and Dean had a stick to his forehead and was pulling out a glowing silver thread. Both were totally at ease being here in this strange place. He had to admit, when Sirius first told him that he was a wizard, he didn’t know what to think. In his line of work, nothing really surprised him any more. He had a brief knowledge of wizards but most of it consisted of normal people using demonic rituals to gain supernatural powers. But he had searched for all the usual signs but yielded no results. The boys had told him that it was in their blood, literally. Like they had hunting in their blood.

It made sense, but he was still sceptical, today was his first day observing the class, he would pass judgement after that. 

“Okay class, before we begin our lessons today, we have a special guest to introduce you to.” Dean motioned for John and Bobby to come down and meet the students. “You already know the expert Bobby Singer, he’s sat in on a few of our lessons. This is our father, John Winchester. He taught us everything we know about hunting.”

John came to stand beside his son awkwardly but tried to maintain that ’strict father/teacher’ face. The students shuffled in their seats uncomfortably. 

“Alright everyone, today’s topic is…” Sam called out imitating a drum roll on the projector, trying to alleviate the tension. “Reapers.” A slide rolled onto the screen with the word Reaper on it and a depiction of an ordinary man dressed in a black suit.

The class murmured and most started scribbling down notes on their parchment. A hand flew into the air. 

“Yes, Miss Granger?” 

“I thought Reapers were dressed in black cloaks and wielded scythes.”

“Well that is one depiction of them, but in our line of work, this is what they look like. I guess they modernized with the times. Basically, Reapers are invisible to humans unless the person is near death or in spirit or astral projection form, so no one really knows exactly what they look like,” Sam explained.

“And by the way, Death did have a scythe, he just lost it, believe it or not,” Dean said, remembering the old Horseman with a strange love of fast food.  “Met him a few times.” Hoping this would give him some street cred with the students.

“You’ve met Death?” Malfoy said incredulously. 

“Yep,” Dean replied simply, a stupid grin on his face. Sam rolled his eyes. 

“Those who can see them, don’t live to tell the tale, or are either in our line of work.” Dean cut in. Sam switched slides and there was a ton of information on it, the first one being that Reapers are invisible. 

“Reapers are able to stop time and are capable of altering human perception to make themselves appear any way they want.”

“Like in the example, we are going to show you.” Dean gestured to the Pensieve.

“Reapers are vulnerable to Death’s Scythe. Death’s Scythe is a special weapon used by Death that kills Angels, Demons, and Reapers.” Sam explained before Hermione could raise her hand to ask. “They can be bound using spells and Enochian Runes. Enochian is the language of Angels. And they can also be possessed by Demons, but only by powerful Demons.” He turned off the projection screen. “Does anyone know what level of Demon would be able to possess a Reaper?” 

Hermione’s hand shot up while everyone else looked away from Sam. 

“Come on,” Bobby spoke up. “You kids have good heads on your shoulders. Don’t let Granger do all the work for you.” Hermione lowered her hand with a small frown, looking at Harry and Ron. A slightly shaking hand raised slowly. Bobby called on him and the boy spoke quietly. “What did you say, boy? I’m old, and I don’t hear well.”

“A-a yellow, uh- or white-eyed demon. Sir?” Neville Longbottom’s face turned as red as his silk tie, wishing he hadn’t spoken at all.

Bobby smiled, nodding. “That’s right.” 

“Great job Neville. Ten points to Gryffindor.” Dean congratulated him as the boy returned Bobby’s smile. 

“And now that the boring nerdy stuff is over let’s get to the fun part.” Dean clapped his hands together and rubbed them together. “Some backstory on this. We were in a car accident while Sam and Dad were driving me to a hospital because I was already hurt. A semi-truck hit us, and we all ended up in the hospital. I was in a coma, and they said I was gonna die. I was a disembodied spirit and I had an encounter with a Reaper.  Line up.”

The students got into a line quickly and entered the Pensieve. The Winchesters shared a grave look as they took in the scene. Sam and his father were arguing. Dean’s spirit stood a few feet away. 

“I said SHUT UP!” Dean yelled over them and smacked a glass of water from the table, and it crashed to the floor. Sam and John looked at each other. Dean looked stunned.

“Blimey,” Ron frowned. 

“Yeah, oh and by the way, they can’t see me.” Dean nodded. 

“Dude, I full-on Swayze’d that mother,” Dean muttered. He suddenly crumpled in pain, flickering. Nurses and doctors ran by the door.

“What is it?” Dean managed to choke out.

“Something’s going on out there,” John said, jerking his head for Sam to go and find out. They left the room and Sam arrived at Dean’s room and stopped. Monitors were beeping, a doctor and some nurses were surrounding Dean, performing CPR on him. The paddles were applied, and Dean’s back arched from the electricity. Sam was in the doorway, tears in his eyes and he spoke shakily.
“No,” be breathed.
“Still no pulse,” the nurse reported.

“Oh my goodness.” A Gryffindor girl gasped.

Dean put his hand on her shoulder. “Hey it’s okay, your teacher is alive and well today,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Okay, let’s go again, 360,” the doctor said.

“Charging,” the nurse said, and the doctor shocked Dean again.
Sam was still in the doorway, crying. Dean came up behind him. He saw a ghostly figure floating over himself in the bed.

“That was the first time I had ever seen a Reaper.” Dean frowned, “Scared the hell outta me.”

“You get the hell away from me. Stay back!” he yelled, approaching as his body was shocked in the bed again.

“I said get back!” Dean yelled.

Sam blinked, looking like he heard something. Dean grabbed for the thing, and he latched on momentarily before it hurled him at the wall and then soared out of the room. The monitors slow, quiet.

“We have a pulse. We’re back into sinus rhythm,” the nurse said. Dean ran into the hallway, looking for the spirit. Sam sighed in relief and backed into the hallway. Dean came back and stood beside him.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I’m not going anywhere. I’m getting that thing before it gets me. It’s some kind of spirit, but I could grab it. And if I can grab it, I can kill it,” Dean said gently.

The scene changed to another hospital room. Dean and a dark-haired woman were standing in the middle of the room.

“That was the Reaper that was trying to take me. I guess she wanted to take on a hands-on tactic.” He grinned. “Plus she was really hot….”

“So I guess that was her changing her appearance to suit the person?” Malfoy drawled as he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Mr Malfoy, but she had been masquerading as a lost soul that I was trying to help.”

“Hi, Dean,” Tessa said quietly.

“You know, you read the most interesting things. For example, did you know that Reapers can alter human perception? I sure didn’t. Basically, they can make themselves appear however they want. Like, say, uh, a pretty girl. You are much prettier than the last Reaper I met,” Dean frowned.

“I was wondering when you would figure it out,” Tessa replied.

“I should have known. That whole ’accepting fate’ rap of yours is far too laid back for a dead chick. But the mother, and the body, I’m still trying to figure that one out.”

“It’s my sandbox, I can make you see whatever I want,” Tessa smiled.

The memory blurred slightly and refocused.

“There’s no such thing as an honourable death. My corpse is going to rot in the ground and my family is going to die! No. I’m not going with you, I don’t care what you do,” Dean frowned.

“Well, like you said. There’s always a choice. I can’t make you come with me. But you’re not getting back in your body. And that’s just facts. So yes, you can stay. You’ll stay here for years. Disembodied, scared, and over the decades it’ll probably drive you mad. Maybe you’ll even get violent.”

“What are you saying?”

“Dean. How do you think angry spirits are born? They can’t let go, and they can’t move on. And you’re about to become one. The same thing you hunt. It’s time to put the pain behind you.”

“And go where?” Dean asked.

“You were gonna go with her,” Sam said, more to himself. Dean sighed.

“I didn’t think I had a choice.”

“Sorry. I can’t give away the big punchline,” Tessa replied with a compassionate smile. “Moment of truth. No changing your mind later. So, what’s it going to be?”

“This is how vengeful spirits are born,” John said to no one in particular. “Some say it’s unfinished business, I say it’s the inability to move on.”

The memory once again changed. Now they were standing in a convenience store. 

“Here I asked Death for his help with something. In return, I had to wear his ring for a day. I gained the powers of Death himself, not just a Reaper, but it’s a good example of how it works. He’s like a Reaper on steroids.” Dean explained. “Tessa, the Reaper I met after the accident, helped me.”

A robber was pointing his gun at the cashier, who was standing behind the register with his son. “Come on! Come on! Let’s go!” he commanded.

“They can’t hear you. They can’t see you. Just let this play out.” Tessa told Dean.

“Well, who am I taking?” Dean asked.

“Wait and see.”

“You want me to shoot the kid?!” the robber yelled. “Hurry up! Oh, you think I’m kidding? And don’t forget the drawer under the register. Come on, move it! Let’s go!” Suddenly the cashier pushed a bag off the counter onto the floor, and while the robber bent to pick it up, he pulled a gun out of the drawer under the register. He pulled the trigger and the man fell to the ground. Dean didn’t move. 

A few students jumped at the sound of the gun. “Sorry about that. Should have warned you.” Dean mumbled. “Just so you know, I kinda got a little power drunk here.”

“Hello? Tick-tock,” Tessa frowned impatiently.

“He’s in agonizing pain, right?” Dean asked.

“Uh, yes,” Tessa almost rolled her eyes.

“Give me a minute.” After a moment, Dean touched the man’s arm. He went limp and his spirit appeared beside Dean and Tessa.

“Why?” the spirit asked.

“Mostly because you’re a dick. Enjoy the ride down, pal. Trust me — sauna gets hot,” Dean smirked a little.

There was a whoosh as they exited the Pensieve.

“That’s basically everything we need to see,” Dean said. Hermione put up her hand.

“Yeah?” Sam asked. 

“Sir, are there any distinguishing features of a Reaper that are present in their human forms? Like a way to tell a normal person from a Reaper in human disguise?”

“Well,  you are the only one that can see them if you’re dying, or dead. They will only talk to you,” Dean explained.

“Sir, the true form of a Reaper is similar to a Dementor,” Harry said, raising his hand.

“What’s a Dementor?” John asked. A shudder went through the class.

“They make you relieve your worst memories by sucking the happiness out of you,” Harry said.

“Sounds awesome,” Dean muttered sarcastically. “Reminds me a little of the Shtrigas though.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John scowl. He remembered the night the Shtriga came for Sam and John had stopped it. They never talked about it again. John never even added it to his journal. The journal! Dean rummaged in his bag.

“Oh, here Dad,” he said, handing him the old, worn leather journal. The bell rang, signalling the end of class.

“Okay guys, homework,” Sam called out and everyone groaned. “Write a short essay on Reapers. Around 12 inches of parchment.”

“Well?” Sam asked, turning to look at his father. “Good enough for you?” There was a sarcastic edge to his tone. 

“Sam…” John sighed. “You boys are doing great. I’m sorry for everything I did.”

“You ought to be,” Bobby grumbled. “These boys are heroes, idjit.” Dean didn’t speak. The kids left the room with an abundance of chatter. The silence that was left was broken by the sound of fluttering wings. Castiel appeared by the doorway, stumbling. 

“Cas?!” Dean exclaimed. “Hey, buddy, what’s wrong. What happened?”

“It is done, and they have risen and are here,” Cas stated mysteriously, putting a hand to his forehead with a groan of pain. 

“Cas, what the hell are you talking about?” Sam asked incredulously. “Who’s here?”

“The war is growing more dangerous. More hunters are needed. The decision has been made to raise hunters from the dead to help with this war.”

“More people back from the dead?” Dean said with a raised eyebrow, looking back at John.

“Who?” Sam asked. 

The door opened and two women entered. They were around the same height. One of the women had long brown hair, brown eyes and was wearing a grey jacket, black tank top and jeans. The younger woman had long blonde curls framing her beautiful face. She looked around twenty-five years old with hazel coloured eyes.

“Hey boys,” Ellen Harvelle smiled. Sam and Dean’s eyes were wide.

“Jo, Ellen?” John asked.

“John Winchester,” Ellen replied, looking from the shocked sons to their father. “Never thought I’d see you topside again.”

Dean and Sam’s minds were in whirls. Jo and Ellen were alive, and according to the trench coat wearing Angel, they wouldn’t be the only ones coming back.

“You gonna just stand there?” Jo said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Jo,” Dean breathed, walking forward. He walked up to Ellen and pulled her into a hug.

“C’mere boy,” Ellen smiled at Sam as she released Dean. Sam walked forward and hugged her. 

Meanwhile, Dean turned to Jo and lifted her chin, moulding his lips to hers. Jo’s lips twitched and mashed themselves to his even closer. Sam pulled from Ellen’s hug to see Dean and Jo’s lips locked. He smiled. He knew it. Those two flirted so much and they both had it bad. They separated and Dean noticed Sam’s smile.

“Shut up,” he said before Sam could say anything. Ellen cleared her throat.

“Only been back five seconds…” She muttered to herself. “So, boys, how did it go?” Ellen asked.

“The Colt didn’t work,” Dean sighed. It had been for nothing. The Hellhounds, the bomb… Jo smiled a little at Dean, seeing him staring. “I’m good as new,” she said, lifting her tank top to reveal smooth skin where there used to be a gouge in her stomach. 

“Good,” Dean replied, relieved. 

“It would be nice to have some help since Crowley is helping the other side,” Sam stated. 

Across the room, the blood pounded through Bobby’s veins as he saw Ellen. The gruff hunter had a soft spot for her, and in the few months before her death, she and Bobby had begun talking a little. They seemed to click at once. Ellen was a match for Bobby’s smart-ass attitude.

Castiel stepped forward.

“The others will be here soon.” 

“Others?” Sam asked.

“Other hunters,” Castiel elaborated.

“That’d give us an advantage,” Jo said.

“True, but who are you bringing back?”

“Ash, Caleb, Pastor Jim Murphy and Mary Winchester,” Castiel said. 

The three Winchester men’s jaws dropped.

“Mom?” Dean said in a shocked tone.

“Yes,” Castiel replied. “She along with everyone else should be here momentarily.” Cas vanished without a word.

“They’re bringing back hunters. Mary never knew anything.” John scowled after a long moment.

“Dad,” Dean sighed, wondering how best to break the news to his Dad. “Mom was a hunter. Her whole family was. She hated hunting. She wanted to hide it, and have a normal apple pie life.”

“Samuel and Deanna raised her in the life,” Sam explained. “Look, if what Cas is saying is true, Mom can tell you.” Hope flared in his heart. Could his mother really be alive again? He had only got fleeting glimpses, old photos, second-hand memories of her. Nothing to tie himself to her personally. But to actually see her and touch her? 

Dean was already gone. He threw open the door and as it closed shut behind him, he came face to face with his mother for the first time in almost thirty years. Mary was wearing the same clothing in which she died, a simple white nightgown. She looked bewildered and scared. Dean approached her carefully. Her eyes locked on him, not even taking in her surroundings. He reached out his hand to touch her, see if she was actually real, that it wasn’t some cruel trick. Suddenly, Dean found himself flipped and on the ground, her foot on his neck.

“Where am I? Who the hell are you?” Mary demanded.

“I’m Dean. Winchester. I’m your son.” Dean grunted, wincing in pain. And a little surprised she flipped him so easily.

“No.” Mary frowned, confusion settling in. “My Dean is 4 years old.”

“I was when you died,” Dean replied, breathing shakily.

Mary gasped suddenly. The weight on Dean’s neck disappeared as Mary stepped back in shock, her blue eyes wide. Memories flashed through her mind. John in his chair, Sammy alone with some mysterious figure… The yellow eyes… Burning…

Dean got to his feet and stared at his mother. Mary was staring into space, frozen. He could hear the sounds of footsteps far behind him.

“Mom?” Dean began quietly. “Listen to me. Your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas,” Dean explained.

“How do you know all that?” Mary whispered, still trying to process what was going on.

“Dad told me. March 23. 1972, you walked out of a movie theatre, Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh, Mulroney’s, and you talked, and he was cute, and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that you met –” Dean continued, tears in his eyes.

“John Winchester,” Mary interrupted. The footsteps were getting louder.

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea. A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“And then I burned,” Mary said finally. “How long have I been gone?”

“Twenty-eight years.” Mary walked forward and touched Dean’s cheek.

“Dean,” Mary whispered. She saw bits of her young son in this man’s appearance. His bright green eyes, his light hair, a mischievous grin.

“Hi, Mom,” Dean replied with tears in his eyes. They hugged for what seemed like a long time. 

“Come on…” Dean said eventually. “Dad and Sam are waiting to see you. Mary nodded tearfully.

They turned to go back the way they came when two figures jogged into view. Mary looked to the tall younger man but didn’t recognize him. The older man to the side, however… “Mary,” John whispered with tears in his eyes. Mary’s eyes widened.

“John?” she whispered as she ran forward, she threw her arms around John’s neck and kissed him deeply. Dean followed, smiling at his brother. They knew their father needed this moment too. John stared in shock as tears rolled down his face. John held her as if she were made of nothing but porcelain. He kissed her softly on the lips. All his life he had wanted his wife back. Now he had her in his arms, he didn’t know what to think. There was just the mind-blowing happiness that filled his entire being. Sam and Dean looked on, wiping their tears on their sleeves. 

Mary and John broke apart after a minute, and she looked to her sons. 

“I probably look a little different from the last time you saw me.” Sam’s ears turned pink as Mary appraised him. “Sammy…” She encased both her sons into a hug only a mother could give. Sam buried his face into her soft blonde curls, something he had never forgotten about her. The tears came, but Dean didn’t give a damn as he joined the hug. He and Sam clutched their mother tighter as they let their emotions go. Sam looked into Mary’s face, which had happy tears running down her soft pink cheeks. 

“My babies,” she whispered. She kissed both of them on the cheek. She looked to the man behind her sons and her face broke out in another tearful grin. 

“John,” she said, and Sam and Dean let go.

“Why did you never tell me?” John whispered to his wife.

“You didn’t need to know. I thought I could escape the life. I’m so sorry John, I should have told you,” Mary said regretfully. She had taken herself away from her boys for almost thirty years. But there was nothing that could be done about it now. All she could do was be there for them. They walked back to the classroom. A minute later the door opened again. 

“Buenos Días bitches!” they heard a voice say, and they turned to see Ash grinning at them as they came through the door.

“Ash,” Sam and Dean grinned.

“The one and only,” Ash smirked. “I see you’ve tried not to get yourselves killed since I last saw you.” Sam laughed.

“Come on,” Sam said. “We better talk this all out.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 33

“So, that’s everything,” Dean said. They told the others everything that had happened, how they were hunters, how John had died, and how they themselves had died, multiple times. The hunters were left in shock as they absorbed the tsunami’s worth of information that was given to them. They told of the apocalypse, and the parts they played in it. 

Mary’s face was pale, her shock evident. John raised their babies in the life. How could he?  The blood froze in her veins, as her sons spoke of the horrors they endured in their lives. It wasn’t what she wanted for them. She wanted them to live a normal life, away from monsters and Demons. Tears blurred her vision and she spoke through a tight voice. 

“John, I need to talk to you,” she said. Sam and Dean looked at each other, both sharing a look that said ’uh oh’.

John got to his feet and followed his wife outside. He was expecting this. Mary looked horrified and saddened when she heard how he raised their two children. 

“Why?”  Mary asked simply. “Why did you do this to them?”

“Mary, I can’t change what I did.  What I saw that night… I think I would’ve lost my mind if I didn’t do something. I had to avenge you. My real fear was that something would come for them.  After all, that Demon was over Sam’s crib. Hell, I thought he wanted Dean too.”

“If you hadn’t involved them then nothing would have been after them!” Mary hissed at him. 

“The Demon did want them, Mary,” John replied. “Didn’t you hear what Sam said about the army? If they weren’t prepared…”

“My babies were raised as soldiers,” Mary whispered.

“What else was I supposed to do Mare?” John sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry that it happened, but it happened…”

“I know John…” Mary bit her lip. “But the cheap motels, moving around, credit card scams. They never had a real home.” John laughed humorlessly. “We were poor. I blew through our savings in the first year, and the kids’ college funds in the next three. I did my best Mare and I know I’ve been a pretty fucking shitty father, but I needed to keep them safe from what’s out there. It was the only way I knew how.” He sighed as he put his hands on her shoulders.

“I wanted to give them their best shot. I knew what was out there. I couldn’t just leave them defenceless.”

“I understand. This just isn’t what I wanted for them. Were they happy…?” Mary asked, trying to keep her calm. Because part of her still wanted to whoop his ass. 

John frowned and rubbed his neck absently, looking out the window. 

“We were Mom,” Dean spoke from a short distance away as he approached. “Dad tried his best. We had a good time growing up.” It was the nicest thing he’d said to or about John since he’d gotten back. John nodded his thanks to Dean out of Mary’s line of sight. Dean nodded back, really not wanting to see his parents fight on their first night back together. 

“Dean… I’ve missed so much. Sammy’s first words, his first steps, your first day of school, graduations, proms, all of it,” Mary began, wheels turning in her mind. “I should have been there for you.”

“It wasn’t your fault Mom,” Dean smiled a little. “Blame Yellow Eyes.”

“I’m glad the bastard is dead….” John grumbled. “I’m so proud of you boys.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Dean and Sam smiled slightly. It seemed the hatchet was buried. For now anyway. The four adults could start acting like the family that each of them wanted to be. It could be a new start.

They drifted off to their own things after that, exploring the castle. John bowed out of the grand tour of the castle and headed back to the room. Sam declined due to needing to prepare for classes and trying to figure out where to put the hunters that had arrived. 

So Dean showed his mother around the castle solo. They walked around the various areas of the castle, showing her the currently empty Great Hall, the grounds. He spoke of everything they’d done in the past few months, about the changes in the Wizarding World. In truth, he was nervous to approach what he knew Mary really wanted to talk about. He and Sam. 

“Oh, I could show you the Hippogriffs. There these things that have heads like eagles and a back end like a horse, or the greenhouses, they have these giant plants-”

“Woah, slow down Dean.” Mary interrupted, chuckling a little as she put her hand on his shoulder. “You keep looking at me like I’m going to explode,” she was smiling softly as she spoke. “Breathe.”

“Sorry,” Dean replied sheepishly. “I just want to show you everything… and I’m afraid that any minute now, I’ll wake up.” He shrugs. “This will all be some… weird… acid trip I’ve been on. Fuck knows what else this world can do…”

“Which means we need to slow down and cherish all the moments.” She touches his cheek.

“So, what now?” Dean asked. 

“Tell me about yourself and Sam,” Mary replied. They sat down on one of the stone benches overlooking the Black Lake and his Match.com bio ran through his head briefly. 

“Ah, well… that’s a long story.” 

“Just the basics then?” Mary smiled.

“Sam’s the smart one. Got himself a full scholarship to Stanford. Pre-Law,” Dean smiled. “I got my GED.” 

“You dropped out of school?” Mary looked at him.

“School wasn’t for me,” Dean shrugged. “And if you wanna get technical, Sam dropped out too. His girlfriend died in his final year when he left to help me with… something. It was the Demon that killed you.” Dean frowned, wanting to change the subject. Mary seemed to pick up on that.

“What about you? Girlfriends? Prom?” Mary asked.

“Uh, well, we didn’t exactly… Go to prom…” Dean said softly, smiling a little at his mother. Mary’s lips twitched.

“Be that as it may, I still missed everything in your lives,” Mary frowned. “I was thinking, You mentioned that memory thing… Do you think you and your brother could show me some?” Mary asked.

“Sure thing Mom,” Dean shrugged. “Are you sure? Not all of it is pretty.”

“I need to know,” Mary answered at once, giving an expression that meant ’no arguments’. Dean saw where Sam got his bitch face from. 

“Yes ma’am,” Dean nodded. “Let’s go.”

Together they walked back toward the castle. They were quickly able to find Sam when Dean used what Mary found out to be a ’cell phone’. Sam met them in the Entrance Hall.

“Hey, Mom wants us to show her some memories,” Dean explained.

“Really?” Sam asked. Mary nodded.

“Okay, sure Mom,” he smiled a little back. 

“I’m just gonna tell Dad where we’re going,” Dean said.

“Dinner just started. He’s at the usual spot,” Sam told him.

“Thanks.” Dean walked into the Great Hall and toward the Head Table.

“Dad, you may wanna stay away from Mom for a while,” Dean said casually, smirking.

“Why?” John asked in a confused voice, an eyebrow raising.

“Cause she’s gonna be pissed at you when we show her these memories,” Dean joked lightly, grabbing a chicken leg.

“What are you talking about, Dean?” John asked, looking at his son with more confusion than before.

“Mom asked if we could show her some childhood memories,” Dean explained. John nodded, face paling a little. 

“We’ll stop her from doing any real damage,” Dean said light-heartedly. John’s mouth twitched.

“C’mon, we better go. I’d say your mom’s excited,” John said as he got up. They met up with Mary and Sam in the Entrance Hall and made their way to the Demonology classroom. Sam and Dean put their wands to their foreheads and pulled the memories out one by one.

“You ready?” Dean asked his mother. Mary nodded excitedly. The group moved to the Pensieve, dropping into the shining blue liquid. 

John was walking around a motel room. He had a six-month-old Sam over his shoulder, rubbing the sobbing infant’s back, trying to calm him down. 

“Shhh Sammy,” John said softly, bouncing him slightly in his arms.

Mary looked at the scene in concern, maternal instincts rising. Looking at the state of the dingy motel room and the half-eaten containers of food on the small table. She realized that this must have been just shortly after her death. 

“Daddy?” a small voice sounded from the chair. 

“Yeah, Dean?” John asked, smiling a little, although it was obvious it was fake.

“Daddy, where’s Mommy?” the almost five-year-old said in a tiny voice, expressive green eyes lowered. John froze, his left hand supporting his youngest, and his right on the baby’s back. He pulled his right hand away and rubbed it over his now moist eyes. 

“Mommy, she’s gone to Heaven, Deano,” John said finally. Dean’s eyes filled with tears as he looked up at his father.

“I want Mommy back,” he sniffled. “Is she an Angel?” he asked. John didn’t answer.
John put the sleeping baby down in the crib, and the memory blurred slightly, and the next image was Dean in the crib, arm around his baby brother, sucking his thumb as he slept. 

Mary wiped her eyes of the tears she could feel falling. The memory blurred to once again show a ratty motel room.

“Come on Sammy,” Dean was saying. Dean looked slightly older than Mary remembered, possibly around six. His hands were outstretched. John stood a few feet away, holding baby Sammy upright by his arms, letting the baby walk cautiously. Sam walked forward clumsily.
“You can do it, Sammy!” Dean grinned. Sam giggled. John let go of his hands, hovering in case Sam fell. Sam took another step and faltered, falling flat on his face before John could catch him. Sam lay still for a moment before letting out a wail.

“Shit,” John muttered under his breath. “It’s okay little dude…” He picked up the sobbing baby. “You’re okay.”

“See Sammy? You were always a clumsy giraffe,” Dean grinned. Sam thumped him in the shoulder. The memory dissolved, revealing a bright September day.

John had a one-and-a-half-year-old Sam by the hand. The little boy looked up at his older brother as the sandy-haired child scowled.

“Daddy, I don’t wanna go to school,” he pouted. 

“You have to, son,” John said gently.

“But Daddy…” Dean bit his lip.

Mary noticed the difference. John was like the father she knew in the first memory, but John’s voice had changed slightly. Only one year as a hunter had changed John, even a little.

“Who’ll look after Sammy?” Dean whimpered. Looking up at the toddler who was grinning at him while waving a chubby hand at him. 

“Sammy will be fine,” John soothed, gently nudging Dean closer to the group of playing five-year-olds that would be in his class.

The memory faded to show a nine-year-old Dean, with his little brother playing with green army men on the disgusting puke green carpet.

Dean got up and looked at Sammy. 

“Want dinner?” he asked. The mop of brown hair looked up to reveal innocent brown eyes. 

“Pwease Dean,” Sam said. Dean nodded and opened the cabinet, frowning. There was only one can of Spaghetti-O’s left. He opened the can and poured it into a saucepan. 

“Don’t you want any Dean?” Sammy asked.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Dean replied.

John looked away, horrified at seeing how he had left his son’s alone from this angle.

The memory again faded as Mary gave a stern look to her husband.
“You didn’t leave them with enough money?” she glared. “You shouldn’t have left them alone in the first place!” John looked down.

The memory refocused, showing a fifteen-year-old Sam Winchester.

He was scowling, patches of his long hair in his hands. 

“Dean! You put Nair in the shampoo?!” he yelled. Nineteen-year-old Dean Winchester was laughing his ass off. 

“Dude, your face!” he choked out, holding his ribs. “Wait, did you take the bottle out with you?” he asked.

“Uh…” Sam trailed off. Dean’s face paled.

“Dad’s in the shower!” he exclaimed. Sam just about peed himself laughing.

“Dean Winchester!” a roar sounded from the bathroom. Dean gulped as John came out, hair falling from his scalp.

Both Dean and Sam were laughing their heads off. Mary stifled a giggle behind her hand at the image. They exited the Pensieve. 

“You looked happy,” Mary smiled, trying not to think of the first memory of their grief, and focus on the happier times. 

“Yeah, told you,” Dean smiled. “It wasn’t all doom and gloom.” 

There were a few minutes of silence as John absorbed what had occurred in the last few days. His wife was back, his family complete. It didn’t erase what he had done, the mistakes he had made. God knows there were a lot of those. He knew that now was time to start mending the wrongs. He was a fucked up human being. John knew there was probably no use in justifying the damage he had done to his sons. 

John looked at his wife, talking to their sons. The love in her eyes was palpable. Mary was the type of person that loved with their whole heart. 

He frowned as he realized how much better she was at the whole parenting thing than he was. I mean she had only been a mother for technically four years and was such a natural at this. He had been a father for twenty-seven years and look at how they had turned out.  He sighed.

“Hey, Sam? Can I talk to you?” John asked. This was the first step, talking to his youngest. They had a rocky relationship, to begin with. 

“Uh, sure Dad.” Sam looked at his brother before he walked off with John. They walked a short distance away.

“What is it?” Sam asked. The words weren’t snappy or harsh, like he’d spoken to his father for the past while, or even during his teen years. He had a lot of time to process everything that had happened since his father’s death, and he had come to terms with what had happened. Even though he did lose his temper when John messed with his lesson plans. What could he say? Old habits die hard. Now there was a bit of awkwardness between the two of them that hadn’t been there when Sam was younger. Now that he had the chance to fix their relationship, Sam was at a loss for words. But John spoke before he had a chance. 

“Sam, I screwed up with you a lot, didn’t I?” John sighed.

“No, that’s okay,” Sam shook his head. The response came out automatically, it was a knee-jerk reaction.

“No, it’s not. Sammy, tell me the truth.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Sam grimaced. He was trying to make up with his Dad, not rehash the past.

“You didn’t have a problem talking about it before you left,” John pointed out, trying not to sound too bitter.

Sam sighed, frustrated. “Dad… for me? That fight… that was a lifetime ago. I don’t even remember what I said, and I mean… yeah. You know what? You did some messed-up things. But I don’t… I mean, when I think about you…” his voice broke. “And I think about you a lot… I don’t think about our — our fights. I think about you… I think about you on the floor of that hospital. And I think about how I never got to say goodbye.” There were tears in Sam’s eyes now. John put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, looking into his eyes.

“Sam. Son. I am so sorry,” he said sincerely.

“I’m sorry, too. But you did your best, dad. You… you fought for us, and you loved us, and… that’s enough,” Sam nodded.

⸸

It seemed to be a day filled with apologies for John. He took a deep breath as he prepared to knock on the door. He wasn’t normally a nervous man. For God’s sake, he’d faced creatures that would make grown men piss themselves over. He had been dreading this particular conversation for several reasons, but he needed to talk to her about it. It had to be done. He knocked. The door opened.

“John,” Ellen said, arms crossed and appraising the hunter with a sceptical look on her face.

“Ellen,” John looked down and then back up at her. “I need to talk to you.” 

“Wondered when you were gonna come and talk to me,” Ellen said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Come on, I don’t want Jo to hear this,” he said, causing Ellen to glare. She followed John down the steps, outside, and they ended up in the grounds.

“You know we’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later Ellen,” John sighed. “You know as well as I do that I haven’t been in the roadhouse since…” he trailed off.

“Since you got my husband killed, I get it. Do you have a point here, Winchester?” Ellen snapped.

John sighed. “About what happened that night. Ellen, I have wished every day since it happened that I could change it, that the damn thing would have taken me instead.” How could he make it up to Ellen? Just saying ’I’m sorry’ wouldn’t cover it. “I was a fool for not checking that salt line, if I had just done that, or if it had been me instead of Bill…”

“Shut up Winchester.” Ellen had turned away from him, holding her arms across her chest and grabbing her arms, almost as if she was trying to hold herself together. She hadn’t thought of Bill in years. She tried not to, because of what was happening now; feeling like she was falling to pieces. “I don’t need your pity or your crap. Why do you want to drag this out now after all these years?”

“Because,” John frowned, not really knowing what to say either. “I screwed up. Plus, I don’t want any animosity between us. I don’t know if you noticed, but earlier, Jo and Dean kissed. It looked like there’s some sort of connection between them.” 

“Really?” Ellen drawled sarcastically. “I’m not blind John. If you had stuck around long enough you would have put a chastity belt on that boy.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe…” John rolled his eyes, seeing a smile touch Ellen’s eyes.

“Look John… What happened to Bill was one of the darker sides of the job,” she whispered. “Bill knew what he signed up for. You did a good thing that night John, whether you believe me or not. You stopped the hellspawn from being released into the world. ’The life of one for one billion.’” She smiled slightly; one of Bill’s famous sayings. She turned away, leaving John stunned as she went back to her room. John sighed to himself.

Crowley’s Hideout, Bootbock, Kansas, U.S.A. 22 ^nd January 2012

Crowley summoned Castiel to an old circular metal laboratory. He was pacing back and forth in front of one of the old metal tables. He stopped when he heard the fluttering of Angel wings.  

“What?” Castiel asked in a bored and tired voice. Crowley had so many ’jobs’ for him to do lately with harvesting the souls that Crowley had promised Voldemort. He was feeling less like a partner and more like an errand boy.

“Touchy, touchy Feathers!” The King of Hell inspected the Angel from head to toe. “You should really think about doing something….” He gestured to every part of Castiel. “With that,” he finished.

“What do you want? I still have some more souls to collect for your army.” Castiel’s eyes bored into Crowley ignoring what he said. 

“Oh, it’s not my army,” Crowley mused. “I am merely the silent partner in this little game of ‘War and Peace’.”

“I don’t understand.” Castiel looked at him puzzled, the first real emotion that he had shown in a long time. Hadn’t this been the deal that was struck between the three of them?  

“Oh, you Angels, you can be so naïve.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “This is the only bit of fun that I get to have while I’m topside here, watching two civilizations annihilate one another is what I live for! Don’t you Angels get to have any fun?” Castiel just looked at him with that blank expression that he was known best for. “Well anyway, I have a job for you to do.”

“What now?”

“I need you to get rid of the ’Winchester’ problem.”

“And by ’get rid’ of you mean…?” Castiel narrowed his eyes.

“I need you to kill Dean Winchester, now. Since you didn’t bother the last time I asked.”

“Why? He is no threat to you.” Castiel tried to hide his anger beneath his composed features.

“You know Castiel, I was pretty confident that Eve could lead us to Purgatory…” He shot Castiel a sharp look. Castiel hid his surprise that Crowley knew. Of course, he knew… “And I’m confident that she could have if she was still alive! Single best chance to get over the rainbow, and the Winchesters killed her!” he glared.

“Eve was becoming a threat,” Castiel replied.

“You screwed up, Cas. You let the hounds mangle the pheasant, and now I am up to my elbows in it!” Crowley yelled. “Out of all the hunters that I’ve come across, he and his brother are the only ones who can stop me from opening Purgatory. This is your last chance Feathers.” Crowley leaned in close and whispered threateningly. “If you don’t kill him, I will.”

“I will not let you hurt Dean,” Castiel growled. Crowley smiled a little. Suddenly, a ring of fire ignited around Castiel.

“Thought you’d say that,” Crowley said, and he disappeared, leaving Castiel alone, at a loss of what to do. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 34

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 22 ^nd January 2012

Harry woke up in his four-poster bed in the boy’s dormitory. It was still dark outside, so he knew it was nowhere near morning. It was the sharp pain in his scar that woke him. And the nightmare might have something to do with it too. He sat up and rubbed his eyes and slipped his glasses on, trying to remember what the nightmare was about. His heart was still racing against his ribs. He jumped when he heard a noise that almost sounded like a growl. Then rolled his eyes when he realized it was Ron snoring.

A tapping noise caught his attention. He looked around to see Hedwig tapping her beak against the nearest window, a letter tied to her leg. Harry crept over to the window, narrowly missing Trevor the toad, and letting her in the room. Hedwig hooted happily and nuzzled against Harry’s hand. 

“Hey, Hedwig.” Harry smiled softly. His fear over his nightmare seeming to evaporate at the sight of his favourite companion. He untied the letter and unfolded it, seeing Sirius’s handwriting.

It had been a few days since he had heard from his godfather. It was a brief letter. Sirius hadn’t much to say. He wished he could just talk to him; Ask for his advice on… basically everything. Harry wished Sirius could just be a free man. He knew he essentially was, but Sirius couldn’t exactly walk out in Death Eater infested England. Hopefully, if Professor Dumbledore managed to bring Voldemort down by destroying the Horcruxes, they could all be free. He sighed as he scribbled a quick reply and sent Hedwig off with a biscuit. Harry moved back to his bed and lay down. He closed his eyes and tried to get more sleep.

The month since he came back to Hogwarts, wasn’t very eventful, for a change. The only difference he noted was the Demonology classroom had three new teachers: The Winchester’s mother, Mary, father John and their friend Bobby. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the two brothers, getting their family back. It seemed a little hypocritical that they told the class ’what’s dead should stay dead.’ Now they seemed ecstatic with the family reunion. Not that Harry blamed them of course, but he wished he could have the same. On the other hand, he also felt like a hypocrite. Hadn’t he been given back Sirius? He shouldn’t be so greedy. He should be happy for the Professors. Frustrated, he shoved his pillow over his head, trying to block out his thoughts. 

The next day was quiet. Due to his lack of sleep, he almost dozed off in History of Magic. Granted, that wasn’t an unusual occurrence. There was a popular joke that Professor Binns took the term ’bore me to death’ quite literally. Ron had to prod him a few times, resulting in a muttered ’huh?’ from Harry.

“Focus mate,” Ron muttered under his breath. 

Unfortunately, Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts went much the same way, although luckily, he didn’t fall asleep in Snape’s class. The last thing he needed was another detention from him. They went into the Great Hall, for dinner, bellies empty and rumbling. 

“Has anyone seen Hermione?” Ginny asked as Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table.

“Not since DADA,” Ron replied with a shrug. “We had a free period after. She had Arithmancy.” Ron’s words were suddenly cut off by a shrill sounding shriek. In a blur of brown hair, they saw Hermione racing down the length of the Great Hall.

⸸

Dean was in the classroom, cleaning up some supplies after a fourth-year Djinn class. The hunters were already in the Great Hall. 

“Hello Dean,” a voice sounded, and Dean turned, knife raised. Crowley stood there, smiling. He waved his hand. Dean scowled at Crowley as he approached the hunter.

“Well look who decided to show up,” Dean smirked. “Pulled your head out of the ground, have you?”

“You Winchesters have been a thorn in my side,” Crowley sneered, eyes glowing red. Dean smirked.

“I know, we’re just that awesome,” he said cheekily. Crowley grabbed Dean by the throat and slammed him into the wall.

“Listen to me, you bastard. You and your brother will die,” Crowley snarled, and plunged his knife, aiming it at the frantic muscle that was Dean’s heart. It would kill him quickly, but to his satisfaction, it would be a painful death. At the last second, Dean moved, and Crowley watched as the metal sunk to the hilt into the area directly under his sternum. He smiled as Dean cried out in agony. He twisted the knife, hearing Dean beginning to moan in pain, nothing but nonsensical mumblings.

Crowley pulled the knife from Dean’s body with a rapid motion and Dean fell to the ground. Blood poured from his abdomen, staining his robes. His green eyes were unfocused, and blood dripped from his mouth in steady drops. Crowley smiled as he vanished in an air of black smoke, leaving Dean for dead. Cas, Dean thought. Help…

Hermione Granger was walking down the hallway towards her Demonology classroom. Her mind filled with questions about her homework. She rounded the corner and arrived at the door. She heard a voice speaking in the room.

“Listen to me, you bastard. You and your brother will die,” the voice snarled. Hermione saw a glimpse of a figure before it vanished. She heard a cry of pain, followed by weak pained noises before a thump resounded in her ears. She edged into the room and gasped. Dean was lying on the ground. He seemed to be barely conscious. His green eyes were nothing but slits as his hands pressed to his abdomen, trying to stem the flow of blood. Hermione dropped to her Professor’s side.

“Professor, it’s going to be okay,” she said, pulling out her wand. 

“Vulnera Sanentur,” she said softly. The bleeding seemed to slow slightly, but she couldn’t close the wound completely. She needed to find his brother and parents. Hermione stood and raced out of the classroom. She didn’t want to leave her professor, but she had to get some help. 

Hermione ran down the moving stairs in the Grand Staircase Tower, her heart racing, with tears in her eyes. She reached the bottom and left the tower, reaching the Entrance Hall. Just as she was making a run for the main door that led outside, the door opened, and she saw Sam and his parents enter. His mother was smiling, and his father was grinning at something.

“I swear, Jess got such a scare,” Sam was saying with a soft smile. He looked up when he saw a panicked Hermione approaching.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?” he asked in a concerned tone.

“Professor! Please come quick! Your brother is in trouble! I have done everything I can to stop the bleeding, but he needs help!” Sam’s eyes widened.

“Hermione, what happened?” he asked urgently.

“I think he’s been stabbed,” she choked out. She saw as the Winchester families’ faces paled. Sam took off running at once, racing towards the Demonology classroom. Hermione, John, and Mary followed.  Worry etched into their faces for their son and brother. 

When they arrived in the Demonology classroom, they found Sam kneeling next to Dean. Sam had two fingers pressed to Dean’s carotid artery, and the other was on his bare chest over his heart. Sam must have ripped Dean’s shirt because the grey material was nothing but grey bloodstained strips at his side. It brought the stab wound into horrible clarity. Even from a few feet away, John knew it was bad. Dean was lying in a pool of his own blood that brought his skin into a horrible chalky complexion.

“What’s his heart rate like?” John asked as he grabbed the shredded material that used to be his shirt and pressed it to his abdomen to help stop the bleeding. The blood was still seeping out, but it didn’t seem to be as bad as before.

“It’s rapid and skipping. I think he’s gone into shock,” Sam choked out. 

“Dammit,” John muttered as he turned to the terrified sixteen-year-old girl.

“Can you get the nurse for us? And some of the hunters. We need some help here,” John said in a forced tone.

“Of course,” Hermione whispered before leaving the room in nearly a blur. 

Hermione raced down the steps again, checking the clock. It was five o’clock. Dinner time. She ran to the entrance of the Great Hall and slipped inside. She sprinted up to the Head Table. Harry and Ron called after her. The hunters were off to the side, talking about past hunts. 

“I’m sorry!” She gasped, out of breath.  “Dean really needs your help, now!” she added urgently. The gruff hunter, Bobby, raised an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong with that idjit?” he asked.

“He’s been stabbed,” Hermione told them in a rushed whisper. Ellen and the blonde girl, Jo stood at once. The women and Bobby left the room with Hermione following after telling Madam Pomfrey. The other students and teachers turned to look at the small group as they left the Great Hall, Hermione sharing a curious look with Harry and Ron. Dumbledore called for order and the usual chatter resumed. 

They arrived in the classroom in record time. Madam Pomfrey kneeled down, checking Dean’s pulse and breathing.

“It’s a little weak,” she said, pulling out her wand. 

“Tergeo,” she continued, and the blood covering Dean’s torso siphoned away. “Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur, Vulnera Sanentur,” she chanted, smiling a little as the wound began to close. 

“How the hell did this happen John?” Bobby exclaimed.

“I don’t know,” John admitted, running a hand over his face. “This girl just came out and told us what happened.” Bobby turned to the teenager.

“I heard a man saying he was going to kill Dean, and I heard a thump, and I found him like that,” Hermione said in a shaky voice. She couldn’t look away from her Professor’s body.

“Who was talking?” Sam asked, looking up from his brother’s face as Madam Pomfrey worked. 

“I didn’t quite get a good look at him. But I think he was average height, slightly round build, and he had a beard,” Hermione replied, out of breath. “He had red eyes. Perhaps a crossroads demon?” she remembered.

“Crowley,” Sam snarled.

“I’m going to put him on a few doses of a Blood Replenishing Potion and monitor him for a day or two. I will also give him Essence of Dittany, which will minimize scarring,” Madam Pomfrey said to the group. She started to work immediately and used a floating charm on him, making it easier to transport him to the infirmary.

⸸

Hours passed and now Dean was in the Hospital Wing surrounded by his family and fellow hunters. Sam, Mary, and John went to work on warding the area around the hospital bed. Madam Pomfrey had only complained about the extra precautions once, after Sam assured her that the warding could be removed once Dean had recovered. He had responded well to the Blood Replenishing Potion and other potions and spells he was given to fight the different symptoms. Dean was lost in a world of darkness. The air whistled through between his lips and he could feel his heart pulsing steadily beneath his ribs. He groaned. He remembered being in the Demonology classroom, someone was with him… Crowley’s face flashed through his hazy memory. Crowley was in Hogwarts. He had to warn the others.

“Dean? It’s okay angel, take your time,” a soft voice said. Dean fought to regain consciousness.

“M-mom,” Dean breathed.

“Yes, sweetheart it’s me,” Mary said. She squeezed Dean’s hand gently from her position at his bedside. Dean’s eyes opened slowly, blinking at the lights. His mother, father, brother, Ellen and Jo were at his side.

“Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?” John said, placing a hand on his shoulder. He was oddly tender at this moment. 

“Good I guess, considering,” Dean said, surprised. John smiled back a little. A squeeze of his right hand pressed him to look over. He saw Jo there, smiling.

“When will you ever stop getting yourselves into things?” she asked. Dean smiled back.

“Hey, it’s a talent,” he said smiling.

A while later the Hospital Wing was empty except for Dean and his family. It had been about three hours since Crowley had stabbed him.

“I swear Mr Winchester. If you don’t start taking care of yourself you will work yourself into an early grave.” Madam Pomfrey muttered as she made Dean take some potion.

Dean made a face as the liquid ran down his throat and coughed before saying, “That’s the perks of the job Madam Pomfrey. You might as well reserve this bed especially for me, I’m gonna probably be back here in a few days for something else.” He laughed which caused him pain. Madame Pomfrey sighed, rolled her eyes, and walked back to her office. After a few gasps of air to deal with the pain, he saw Ellen standing protectively behind Jo. Jo’s hand was wrapped around Dean’s and hadn’t let go of it.

“Hi, Ellen.” He smiled, hesitation making his voice crack, or it could have been the liquid chalk he had just drank that Madam Pomfrey swore was a potion. He wasn’t sure.

“Hi, Dean.” She smiled back. “You just can’t stand to stay out of trouble can you?”

“I try to Ma’am.” Dean tried to pull his hand away from Jo. She looked at him questioningly as she let go. Dean cleared his throat as he tried to jerk his head towards Ellen nonchalantly. 

John noticed the interaction between the three of them. 

“Out of all the scary monsters that you have beaten, you’re afraid of Ellen?” He asked out loud, seeming to state the obvious.

“Yea, she’d shoot my ass if I did something stupid.” Dean grinned at his father.

“Damn right I would kid,” Ellen smirked as she rubbed Jo’s shoulders.

Dean started laughing lightly and then spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing further back talking amongst themselves. 

“What are they doing here?” He rasped, pointing towards the trio of students. 

“Isn’t it enough that they are concerned for their favourite teacher?” Jo smiled playfully as she slapped Dean’s hand down lightly.

“You really should be thanking Hermione,” Sam replied seriously. “If she hadn’t found you when she did…” Sam paused. “I don’t know what would have happened.” Hermione smiled shyly at the mention of her name. She stepped toward the bed, so Dean could talk to her.

“So, I hear that you saved my life.” Dean smiled at her.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” She blushed. “I was coming in to ask you some questions about our essay. When I found you, I only tried to stop the bleeding and then went to find your brother.”

“That’s pretty good in my opinion.” 

“I guess you have a Guardian Angel after all sir.” Ron piped up. 

“Speaking of Guardian Angels,” Dean looked at all the smiling faces that surrounded his bed, his mother, father, brother, his father figure, Jo and Ellen, and the three students that he had come to know and love, he realized that there was a face missing. 

“Where’s Cas?” Dean tried to sit up and see if the Angel was sulking in a corner, but Jo pushed him back down on the bed. Sam exchanged looks with John and Bobby. 

“He hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Really?” Dean leaned his head back down on the pillow. “I thought he would have shown up by now. It’s like he has a radar in his bird brain telling him I’ve got a paper cut or something.” Dean frowned, realizing how close to death he was and the Angel that risked his life to pull Dean out of Hell hadn’t been there to help.

“Maybe he was helping someone else?” Mary offered an explanation. 

“You don’t know Cas like we do,” Sam muttered darkly. 

“I came as fast as I could!” came a shocked voice from nowhere.

A ruffle of feathers announced the Angel’s arrival. Cas appeared behind John and Sam, looking worse than usual.

“Dean.” Cas sighed in relief. “I thought I would be too late. How are you feeling?”

“Like I just won the Miss World Pageant! What do you think?! Where were you earlier Cas?” Dean shouted at the Angel, he gripped his abdomen and his face twisted with pain as he gasped for air. Mary and Jo encouraged him to lay back down.

“I’m sorry Dean, I was… detained.” Cas looked down at the floor.

“Detained? I’m swimming in my own blood and your excuse is you were detained?” Dean said through his teeth. He knew it wasn’t fair to unleash all this on Cas, but he didn’t care. 

“I said I was sorry, what more do you want from me?” Cas shouted at him, Sam and Bobby were stunned. Cas had never raised his voice to a shout before.

“I want you to be there for me!” Dean shouted back. “You have really dropped the ball lately Cas! It’s like you don’t even care any more! I mean, what the hell?”

Cas had nothing to say because he knew Dean was right. He hadn’t been there for the Winchesters’ lately. 

“That’s enough boys,” Mary said after a few seconds of silence. “Dean needs some rest; all this company isn’t good for him. I think we all need to take a breather.”

“Mary’s right,” Ellen added. “You two can kill each other when Dean is back up to full speed.”

“Fine.” Dean crossed his arms across his chest and turned away from the angel. His voice was full of hate with a slightly disappointed edge to it.

“Fine,” Castiel muttered sadly as he disappeared, the gust of wind ruffling the sheets as Dean’s face softened into one of sadness. The hunters left him alone to rest.

A few minutes later, Jo crept back into the Hospital Wing.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“I thought you needed some company,” Jo said, sitting in the chair by his bed. “I told my mom I forgot something in our room.”

“I have no problem with that,” Dean shrugged.

Together, the two hunters talked well into the evening, until Madam Pomfrey ordered Jo out. As Jo got up to leave, she turned and smirked slightly, before crashing her lips to Dean’s. Dean’s eyes widened a little, but he returned the kiss. When they separated, Dean smirked.

“I knew you always had a crush on me.”

“Shut up. You’re such a jackass.” 

Chapter Text

Chapter 35

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 24 ^th January 2012

Madam Pomfrey had insisted on keeping Dean in the Hospital Wing for a further two days, much to his chagrin. Sam, John, and Mary had taken over the classes after being introduced to the students. From what Dean had heard, it was a funny story. The students had been really freaked out to see so many hunters in the one room. The hunters, Bobby and the Harvelles stayed just out of sight, listening to the lectures. They would add their own two cents if they wanted.

The past week had been tense. Dean remembered the argument with Cas and frowned. He regretted what he said that day. Stress and shock had made him agitated, and he needed to take the frustration out on someone, and it turned out to be Cas. The guilt had washed over him as the Angel left, leaving his family to look at him in shock. 

Dean happened to look at the calendar this morning and noticed that it was January 24^th, his birthday.  Birthdays were a big deal if you were hunters. Not that you would get many presents, because being in this line of work they don’t make many friends. No, it meant that you had survived a whole year without getting killed one way or another. Nothing had ever really happened on his birthday. When Sam had gotten older, he had sneaked off to the diner to get a pie, which he would stick a candle in for the annual event. Dean smiled slightly as he remembered carrying the small candle around in his pocket.

“Come on Dean, get off your lazy ass!” he heard Jo call from outside the door. He cracked an eye open. Sam had already left.

“Coming,” he called back. He got to his feet and stretched. He threw on clothes quickly and walked to the door, opening it.

“Hey babe,” he grinned. Jo rolled her eyes. They had been together since the night Dean had been stabbed. Dean and Jo moved into their own room. Cas hadn’t been back since their argument, Dean wanted to make up for what he said. His words were said in anger, he wanted to apologize, he just didn’t know what to say.

“What’s wrong?” Jo asked.

“Really shouldn’t have said those things to Cas,” Dean replied.

“Well if it’s bugging you so much, why don’t you just call him?” Jo offered.

“I know he wouldn’t answer, he was pretty angry with me, human-like Dean replied. Besides, what would I say to him? He added to himself. Jo nodded, not really understanding but knowing this was important to him.

All they could do now was try to face this impending war. As they walked through the halls, Dean envied the younger students who had no idea what was coming.

“Ignorance is bliss Jo,” Dean commented.

“What?”

“Nothin’,” Dean replied simply. He smiled a little.

“I like birthdays, how about you?” he smirked. Jo looked at him, mentally rolling her eyes at her boyfriend. She swore he was bipolar.

“Yea… I guess,” she said, playing along. They continued walking down the staircase in the Entrance Hall.

A few moments passed as Jo and Dean reached the Great Hall, in which they slipped inside. They walked down the middle, again the students watched. The knowledge of Dean’s stabbing was spread around the whole castle within an hour. The student body watched in surprise as Dean slipped an arm around Jo’s waist. They both walked towards what had come to be known as the ’hunter’s table.’ He thought about messing with them and just collapsed midway down the table’s length but thought better of it. 

“Hey Dean,” Sam smiled. “Happy birthday.” He held out a medium-sized soft package.

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean grinned. He and Jo sat beside each other. He looked across to see his parents smiling at him. 

“Come on, open it,” Sam pressed with a smirk. “I’m surprised you didn’t shred it to pieces like you normally do.” 

“Hold your horses,” Dean snorted as he began opening the paper. He lifted a black t-shirt from the newspaper. It was plain black, with a red AC/DC logo on the front.

“This is awesome Sammy,” Dean smiled.

“Wait,” Sam said, reaching down and lifting a rectangular box onto the table. 

“A laptop?” Dean asked in surprise.

“It’s from Mom, Dad and I,” Sam grinned. “So now you’ll probably stop clogging mine with porn.” Dean rolled his eyes, grinning.

“Thanks, guys,” he said gratefully.

“It’s enchanted, so it’ll work like my laptop and our cell phones,” Sam explained. “All you have to do to charge it is to point your wand at it and say Intentio”

“Here son,” Mary smiled, passing a tiny package to him. “Just another little thing from your Dad and I,” she said as she slid it across the table to him. 

“You guys didn’t have to.” Dean protested quietly as he unwrapped it to find a small silver dog tag hanging from a leather chain. He looked at the back of the tag, reading the words.

Dean Winchester — January 24th, 1979.  Dean examined the simple metal, fingertips tracing over the dates.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled. “Come on, let’s eat!” he grinned. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean pulled a pie covered with chocolate in front of him. As Dean’s arm moved, Jo caught sight of something on his left shoulder.

“Dean, what’s on your shoulder?” Jo asked, pulling the short sleeve of his grey t-shirt up to reveal a burn mark in the shape of a handprint. Jo’s eyes widened.

“What the hell is that?” John asked.

“I got it when Cas raised me from Hell,” Dean shrugged and continued eating. He knew that Sam, Bobby, Cas and Anna knew about it, maybe more of the Angels, but not a lot of people knew. It wasn’t something he liked to announce, he even avoided looking at it all together. He turned his head to see Jo smiling. She was silent for a few minutes.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Dean asked.

“Oh, nothing.” She smiled, then she started to sing. 

“In the arms of the angel,

Fly away from here,

From this dark cold hotel room,

And the endlessness that you fear,

You are pulled from the wreckage,

Of your silent reverie,

You’re in the arms of the angel,

May you find some comfort here.”

By the time Jo had finished, most of the hunters were laughing their heads off. Dean was pouting at his girlfriend. Stupid Sarah McLachlan song…. 

“Suck it up buttercup,” she grinned. Dean smiled back. 

Sam observed his older brother. Dean seemed happier than he had been in years during the past week. His mood was lighter, and he joked more. The depression seemed to be easing slightly. Maybe that was due to having Mom back, or Jo. Sam didn’t know. All he cared about was that his big brother was happy.

“Hey Dean,” Ash called across the table. “Here,” he said, tossing him a book. “All the lore I could find on Djinns. Thought it might be helpful for you.”

“Thanks, Ash, this should come in handy.”

“I’ll give you your present later,” Jo whispered in his ear. Dean grinned at her. Sam looked disgusted. Dean laughed at him and continued eating as Ash gave a ’whoop’, further embarrassing Sam. They ate in silence. 

The hunters walked to the Demonology classroom and began to set up for the class. It wasn’t long before the students began to file in and sit down.

“Hey class,” Sam announced. “Today we’re gonna learn about Djinns. Anyone know what they are?” No one answered, no surprise there.

“Okay, Djinns are human-like creatures with tattooed skin that prefer to live in large ruins with a lot of places to hide. They feed on human blood and can poison their victims with a touch. Their poison causes reality-altering hallucinations and can be used either to kill their victims quickly, or to leave victims in a coma-like state while the Djinn feeds on their blood over a long period of time,” Dean explained.  “Turn to page 149.” There was a sudden scramble for books and parchment. Dean turned to the page he had mentioned and began reading.

“Djinn are best classified as genies and are able to read a person’s mind to learn their deepest desires, but the Djinn do not truly grant wishes. Instead, they send their victims into a fantasy universe where they believe their wish has been granted while the Djinn can drink their blood slowly over the course of days. Time passes slowly enough in the fantasy universe that the Djinn’s victims will feel as if they’re living an entire lifetime before their physical bodies die. When Djinn access their powers, either their eyes and hands glow blue, or their tattoos move and extend down their arms. There is a variant form that possesses the same powers and weaknesses but turns the victim’s insides to “jelly” and feeds on fear rather than happiness. To this effect, they trap people in hallucinations of their worst nightmares rather than their happy dreams. They can poison others with a touch. Their poison causes hallucinations that the Djinn can control and in large doses, it can cause death. They can read a person’s mind to learn their deepest desires. Their weaknesses are silver and lamb’s blood. A silver knife dipped in lamb’s blood can kill them,” Dean read.

“We have only come in contact with a Djinn once when it attacked and drugged Dean,” Sam explained.

“No, it was twice,” Dean corrected. “It was how we reunited after…  you know.” Sam nodded.

“Right, the memory we’re gonna show you is from my attack a few years ago,” Dean went on. The students lined up as normal and were transported into a memory. 

Dean was sitting on the steps of a family home, smiling as he held a beer, drinking from it. A car drove up outside the yard.

“I don’t believe it,” Dean breathed. He got up. Sam and Jessica got out of the car. Sam was dressed differently, just in a pair of jeans and a hoodie. Dean attacked Jess with a hug while Sam took out the luggage from the trunk.

“This is the dreamscape the Djinn trapped me in,” Dean informed the class, looking over at Sam who only paid attention to Jessica. 

“Jessica,” Dean smiled.

“You’re, uh… Good to see you too, Dean.” Jess replied. Dean laughed. “Can’t breathe.” Dean let go quickly.

“Sammy,” Dean smiled.

“Hey,” Sam replied.

“Look at you. You’re with Jessica, it’s — I don’t believe it,” he laughed.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed.

“Where’d you guys come from?” Dean asked in a confused voice.

“We just flew in from… Califor– “Sam began, but Dean cut him off.

“California! Stanford. Huh? Law school, I bet,” Dean grinned. Sam motioned to the beer in Dean’s hand. “I see you started off Mom’s birthday with a bang as usual,” he noted.

“Wait. Mom’s birthday, that’s today?” Dean said, eyes widening.

“Yeah. Yeah, Dean. That’s today. That’s why we’re here. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“Wha…” Dean said in shock, eyes cast down. 

The memory faded, to reveal a restaurant. Everyone was in their best, standing at the table.

“Okay, so a little backstory here,” Dean got the student’s attention. “The little girl there, she was caught by the Djinn too. That’s when I realized that something was wrong.”

“So are all these Dreamscapes connected then?” Ron asked.

“As far as I can tell, it looks like it. But we haven’t had enough contact with them to be one hundred percent sure.” Sam looked over to Dean, not realizing that this was what his brothers’ perfect vision for what their lives were supposed to be.

Over Sam’s shoulder, Dean saw a girl. The others did not notice her. He brushed past Sam and walked over. Sam turned around. Dean passed a lot of people and suddenly, the girl was gone. Dean turned around to see his family looking at him with concern.

The memory blurred, and suddenly, they were in an old warehouse. Dean was holding a knife. Jessica, Mary, Carmen, and Sam were around him.

“Why is it our job to save everyone? Haven’t we done enough? I’m begging you,” Sam breathed. “Give me the knife.” Dean looked at Carmen, Sam and Mary, tears in his eyes. He backed away looking at the floor. He raised his head, looking at Sam.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered. He thrust the knife into his torso. Blood spat from between his lips.

“DEAN! DEAN! Dean,” Sam was saying. 

“I knew I had to get out.” Dean’s face was pale as if reliving this particular memory was making him physically ill. “It was the only way I knew how to get away.”

Suddenly, they were in the same room, but Dean was hanging from the ceiling, his eyes wide open. A blood bag hung next to him.

“Oh, God. Come on,” he said, shaking him. “Hey. Wake up. Wake up, damn it!” Dean grunted a little. His eyes focused on Sam.

“Hey. Hey,” Sam smiled a little.

“Ahh… Auntie Em. There’s no place like home,” Dean breathed.

“Thank God. Thought I lost you for a second,” he said, pulling out the tube in Dean’s throat

“You almost did,” Dean replied.

“Oh god. Let’s get you down,” Sam said, breathing heavily. Sam reached up and started to cut through the rope as Dean winced in pain and grunted. Two bright blue eyes shone next to Sam in the shadows, and the Djinn sprung.

“Sam!” Dean yelled. Sam turned around, attacking the Djinn with his blood-covered knife. The Djinn had Sam for a moment and Sam dropped the knife. Dean tried to pull himself loose. The Djinn got the upper hand on Sam and had him by the throat. He moved his hand to his forehead, but Sam had a hold of his wrist. The Djinn opened his fist and blue light appeared around his hand. Dean thrust the knife into the back of the Djinn. It turned and the blue light went out of its eyes. It fell to the ground, dead.

The memory faded. They were all back in the classroom. Some of the students shaken by the memories but were holding it together pretty well

“That’s basically everything,” Dean said, “No homework tonight,” he said, and the students smiled. The bell rang and they began filing out.

A few hours passed which left the hunters and staff in the Great Hall. Dumbledore had been informed of the staff birthday and organized a dinner for the staff and the hunters. Everyone was in high spirits. Most of the teachers had accepted Sam and Dean as one of their own, and in turn, Dean and Sam had gotten used to their odd quirks. But there was one Professor that they had yet to meet officially in person. But it was just because she didn’t like ’descending into the mortal realm” Whatever the hell that meant. Dean thought to himself one day when he was talking to Flitwick during a combined training/Charms class with the students. The Winchesters had heard that she was a psychic, or (as the wizards called her) a Seer. But apparently, she wasn’t a very good one. They supposed she made a special trip down to the ’mortal realm’ for some reason. She kept to herself mostly during the first part of the meal, only speaking when spoken too and often her words would sound as far off and misty as she seemed to be. Though things became a little more interesting, about halfway through the meal, when Professor Trelawney stood. Her eyes were wide behind her strange glasses. She appeared to be in a trance, her eyes unfocused. The other teachers turned to stare at her, their faces ranging from surprise to disdain. And then she began to speak in a strange, deep, booming voice.

“It shall come to pass that a time of celebration turns to silence. As those fight, some shall fall. The time to vanquish the Dark Lord shall come. Destruction of the soul and the supports will bring about the death of many. Gates shall be opened, monsters spilt, along with blood, tainting waters,” she spoke loudly, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and look at her.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered. “Did she just make a prediction?” 

Sam nodded. “I think so.”

Minerva walked towards the hunters.

“I wouldn’t take much trust in what Sybil predicts. She is rather… unreliable when it comes to predictions,” she told them, although she was slightly worried. This seemed to be a real prediction.

⸸

Later, Jo and Dean sat on the bed in his room. Jo sat in Dean’s lap, smiling at him. She kissed his cheek.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Dean smiled back. “Do I get my present now?” he asked with a coy grin. Their lips crashed together, as Jo shoved Dean against the headboard. Dean pushed his lips firmly against hers, a deep rumble in his chest. He felt Jo grin against his lips. 

“That a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” she smirked.

“Oh, haha,” Dean smirked, looking into her eyes. 

“Now is not the time to be cocky, Dean Winchester,” Jo answered as she started to pull the fabric from his skin. Dean peppered her neck with kisses as she gasped. She made short work of his robes and soon, he was just in his boxers, a visible tenting in the grey material. 

“You are far too dressed,” Dean smirked as he reached under the shoulder strap of her vest to lift up her bra strap temptingly. Jo lifted her arms and slipped her tank top off, landing in the growing pile of clothes. Dean reached behind her and unclasped her bra, letting the garment fall. 

“Beautiful,” Dean murmured as he kissed down the column of her neck, causing her to moan. Jo mumbled something chest moving quickly.

“What was that?” Dean grinned teasingly and was met with Jo’s sharp look. 

“I said hurry up Winchester,” she moaned. “Eat me out.”

“With pleasure,” Dean grinned. He kissed downward, cupping her breasts in his hands, pinching the nipples gently with his fingers. His lips soon met where his fingers were, and he took one nipple into his mouth. Jo moaned, snaking her fingers into his hair. He moved slowly, sucking on the left before doing the same to the right. He continued to kiss down her belly. Dean pulled the jeans from her body, along with the silk pink panties.

“Wouldn’t have figured you to be a pink person,” Dean mumbled.

“What? All girls need a bit of pink,” Jo shrugged. Dean went to work. He gently sucked her clit into his mouth and slipped a finger inside her. Jo moaned and her hips bucked. Dean grinned. He alternated between sucking on her clit and using his thumb to rub in tight circles. He slipped a second finger inside her. It seemed like no time at all before he felt her walls tightening around his fingers. Jo moaned, her hips bucking, throwing her head back. 

“Oh god… fuck,” she gasped. Dean sat back and allowed her to ride the waves. After a moment, she sat up and crashed her lips to his, tasting herself on him. They traded places, and she suckled on his neck and pushed him back on the bed. She slipped his boxers off and immediately wrapped her lips around his cock. Dean sucked in a sharp breath and moaned. She lowered her mouth further onto his cock, using her hand for what she couldn’t fit.

“Fuck… Jo…” he gasped. Jo kept moving and a few minutes later, Dean patted her shoulder.

“Stop, Jo, wait,” Dean warned. “I’m… I don’t want…” Jo nodded and sat back. 

“So what way are we doing this?” Jo smirked. 

“I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dean looked into her eyes. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want.”

“I want you,” Jo replied simply. “Fuck me, Dean.” Dean grinned and rolled them over, watching her expression carefully. He only saw complete trust. He dug in his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom.

“Good idea,” Jo grinned. He tore open the packet and rolled the condom onto his length. Dean moved on top of her and slid his cock inside her. Jo moaned as he filled her. Dean stilled for a moment. Jo’s eyes were closed, just feeling. Her hips started to move closer, so Dean took that as a sign he could move. He moved back and Jo whined at the loss of him, but he thrust forward again, causing her to moan. He kept a slow pace and started to move faster. Their moans filled the room as Dean continued to move inside her. Dean felt her muscles starting to tighten around him.

“Oh fuck, God Dean, I’m coming…” Jo moaned as he felt the tell-tale spasming around him. Dean felt his own orgasm rip through him. He gasped and groaned, falling beside her. He slipped out of her gently, and he tied and discarded the condom. They breathed heavily for a moment. Dean looked down at Jo, who was grinning.

“That was so much fun,” She laughed.

In Dean’s experience, sex was just a casual thing. This time, it was different. Although it was romantic, it was hunger that ignited between them and made it all the sweeter. He loved the woman that he held in his arms. The night was led with an experience that was nothing short of bliss. Jo was smiling as her head lay on Dean’s chest, listening to the soft thumps of his heart as she drifted into sleep. Dean’s last thought ran through his head as he succumbed to darkness. Ellen is going to kill me.

Chapter Text

Chapter 36

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 14 ^th February 2012

Valentine’s Day rolled around faster than expected. Dean stirred and opened his eyes. Jo was across the room, slipping a bra on. 

“Mmm,” Dean grinned. “I like the view.”

“Don’t objectify me, Winchester,” Jo snapped, but she was smirking. She wiggled her butt teasingly and laughed. 

“So, Valentine’s Day,” Dean began, looking at the calendar on the wall.

“Don’t tell me you buy into that stuff,” Jo looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“You don’t?” Dean asked, although, mostly not surprised. 

“I worked in a bar,” Jo reminded him. “Drunk hunters drooling over me all day? No, thank you. A girl has standards. Although… gotta admit, they’ve got a bit low lately…”

“Hilarious,” Dean rolled his eyes as he crawled out of bed. He stretched, yawning. 

“What have you got planned for today?” Jo asked him as he pulled his robes on. 

“Something easy,” Dean shrugged. “The kids deserve a break.” He winced slightly as he pulled the cloak on. The stab wound was almost completely healed, but sometimes he found it hard to move. 

The castle seemed bright and full of life as they moved through the corridors.

“What the hell?” Dean mumbled as he looked up. Little pink paper aeroplanes were zooming around them, jabbing people in the face in a way that looked almost on purpose. One turned in mid-air and zipped toward him, Dean and Jo both ducked, and the aeroplane hit the wall right behind where Dean’s eye would have been. A familiar cackle reached his ears. 

“Peeves…” Dean scowled.

“Oh, ho ho!” Peeves cheered gleefully. “So scared of the Muggles,” he taunted.

“You will be when I trap you in salt,” Dean threatened. Peeves just cackled madly. Dean suddenly had a lightbulb moment. “Or I’ll drag you to Dumbledore.” Peeves’ eyes went wide and he flew away. 

“What was that about?” Jo asked.

“Albus is the only person Peeves respects,” Dean replied. 

“Oh, okay,” Jo nodded. 

“C’mon, I’m starving,” Dean put a hand to his stomach. They continued the walk down to the Great Hall.

“Hey,” Sam greeted as they sat down.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, grabbing some bacon. “Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“I don’t know,” Sam shrugged. “Late morning?” He smirked. Dean dropped the bacon he was holding with a look of disgust. 

“Fuck… forget I asked,” Dean frowned, holding back a shudder. Jo tried to hide her laughter. Dean looked down at his food, preferring not to think about what Sam had just said. 

“Oh lighten up,” Ellen admonished. “Those two haven’t seen themselves in almost thirty years.” 

Speaking of Ellen, she made it clear her stance on their relationship. “Jo is an adult, and she can and will do what she wants, even if I object,” she had said. “But you make sure you take care of her Dean,” Dean promised her that yes, of course, he would take care of Jo. He wouldn’t let anything like Carthage happen again.

 “I know, doesn’t mean I wanna hear about their sex life,” Dean replied.
“Says the guy who had a very visible hickey the morning after his birthday,” Sam muttered. 

“You’re just jealous.” Dean shot back. “Bitch.” 

“Jerk.”

“Stop fighting you two,” came the sound of Mary Winchester’s voice as she and John came out of seemingly nowhere. They sat down and started to fill their plates.

“Any romantic plans?” John asked with a smirk as he looked at his eldest son. There was still some work to be done in the bonding department between him and his sons, but they were on their way. Mary being back certainly helped, as she told the three of them to quote ’grow a pair and make up,’ unquote.

“Not really,” Jo shrugged in response. “We’re not crazy about Valentine’s.”

“Dean used to call it ’unattached drifter Christmas’,” Sam snorted. Dean shot him a sharp look. 

Soon the hunters were walking toward the Demonology classroom. The students murmured as they came in. Dean had just finished extracting the memories into the Pensieve.

“Hey guys,” Sam smiled. “Today’s gonna be a little different.”

The students put down their books warily and eyed the hunters suspiciously, knowing in the Winchester classroom that ’a little different’ usually meant a lot different. Harry Ron and  Hermione looked at each other. Hermione looked curious and eager, as usual. The excitement was still high after the Apparition classes the day before. It was a nice change from the fear they sometimes saw in the students’ eyes. Their world was slowly becoming unravelled,  they needed something to take their minds off it.

Sam stood up, “So we’ve been pushing pretty hard lately.”

“So, we figured today could be a nice break for you guys,” Dean took over.

Ron smiled. “No class or homework then?!”

“Brilliant!” Harry grinned.

“Not exactly.” Sam’s remark was cut off by a chorus of boos. Dean started laughing.

“Cut ’em some slack Sam.” Bobby grinned at him. John and Mary grinned from the corner of the room.

“Okay fine. No homework at least. But the class still goes on.” Sam relented. Whoops sounded around the room from some of the students. 

“So, we’re gonna show you some more light-hearted sides of the job today,” Dean took a step forward. “And some of the strangest…”

“Kind of like a blooper reel I guess,” Sam added.

There were a lot of confused looks from the students at that. 

“Crap,” Dean muttered. Sam cleared his throat. Apparently, they didn’t have those in the Wizarding World. “Anyway. So, since it’s Valentine’s Day, we thought we would cover Cupids,” Sam smiled.

“Now, we’ve only met a Cupid once. We were on a case where couples started to kill each other. These were couples marked by Cupid’s Arrow. So, it was strange, to say the least.”

“A Cupid is a minor class Angel. They match people together,” Sam explained. Lavender raised her hand.

“Yes?” Sam asked.

“So he really isn’t any different from a love potion?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Dean replied.

“I don’t see how….” She grumbled
“It’s more permanent, and genuine,” Sam explained. “That’s where the idea of soulmates comes from.” Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Ron’s ears turning pink.

“You okay there Mr Weasley?” he asked. Sam elbowed him. “What? It’s a legitimate question…”

“M’fine…” Ron mumbled.

“Anyway,” Sam cleared his throat. “Everyone line up, and we’ll view the memory now.”

The students lined up and entered the Pensieve. They landed in a run-down storage room. A man was a short distance away from Sam, Dean, and Cas.

“So, where is he?” Dean asked. The Cupid appeared suddenly and grabbed Dean in a hug.

“Here I am!” he announced.

“Help!” Dean exclaimed.

“Is he-?”

“Yup.” Dean popped the ’p’.

“And he’s wearing a-.”

“Oh yeah.” Sam nodded.

“And he’s basically feeling you up?” Ron grimaced. “Blimey, that’s lovely,” he said sarcastically.

“Pretty much, yeah.” Dean blushed a little at hearing Jo snicker. “Okay, it was uncomfortable for everyone involved.” 

“Oh, help is on the way.” The Cupid smiled. “Yes, it is. Yes, it is.” He spotted Castiel. “Hello, you!” He dropped Dean and walked to Castiel. The Cupid picked Castiel up as he hugged him.

“This is Cupid?” Dean asked.

“Yes,” Cas nodded.

“And look at you, huh?” the Cupid looked at Sam and approached, arms outstretched.

“No,” Sam turned away, but Cupid appeared in front of him, hugging him too.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” he grinned.

“Is this a fight? Are we in a fight?” Dean asked, thoroughly confused.

“This is… Their handshake,” Cas explained.

“I don’t like it,” Dean frowned.

“No one likes it,” Cas stated.

The kids snickered, Dean noticed Malfoy and his cohorts grinning in the corner. 

“What can I do for you?” the Cupid smiled.

“Why are you doing this?” Cas asked.

“Doing what?”

“Your targets — the ones you’ve marked. They’re slaughtering each other,” Cas told the Cupid.

“What? They are?” The Cupid’s eyes were wide.

“Listen, birthday suit, we know, okay? We know you been flittin’ around, popping people with your poison arrow, making them murder each other!” Dean exclaimed.

“What we don’t know is why,” Cas glared.

“Ooh, the Angel is getting pissy…” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

“Language Mr Malfoy,” Sam scolded. 

“You think that I,” the Cupid gasped, shocked. “Well, uh… I don’t know what to say.” He started to cry and walked away.

“Should… Should somebody maybe… go talk to him?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Give ’em hell, Cas,” Dean smirked. He patted Cas on the back.

“Um… look. We didn’t mean to, um… hurt your feelings.” Cupid pulled Cas into a hug. Cas stayed stiff, looking uncomfortable.

“Love is more than a word to me, you know. I love Love. I love it! And if that’s wrong, I don’t want to be right!”

“He’s barking mad…” Harry remarked.

“Yes, yes. Of course. I, uh… I have no idea what you’re saying,” Cas frowned.

“I was just on my appointed rounds. Whatever my targets do after that, that’s nothing to do with me. I was following my orders. Please brother. Read my mind. Read my mind, you’ll see.” Cas stepped forward and concentrated for a moment.

“He’s telling the truth,” Cas stated.

“Jiminy Christmas. Thank you,” the Cupid exclaimed, relieved.

“Wait, wait. You said you were just following orders?” Dean asked, confused.

“Mm-hmm,” the Cupid confirmed.

“Whose orders?”

“Whose?” the Cupid laughed. “Heaven, silly.”

“Why does heaven care if Harry meets Sally?” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, mostly they don’t. You know, certain bloodlines, certain destinies. Oh, like yours.”

“What?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, the union of John and Mary Winchester. Very big deal upstairs, top priority arrangement.”

“Are you saying that you fixed up our parents?” Dean asked.

“Well, not me, but… Yeah. Well, it wasn’t easy, either. Ooh, they couldn’t stand each other at first. But when we were done with them, a perfect couple.”

“Perfect?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” the Cupid smiled. 

“They’re dead!”

“Really?” Jo asked.

“Yeah…” Dean frowned. “Our lives were being controlled even before we were born.”

“I’m sorry, but… the orders were very clear. You and Sam needed to be born. Your parents were just, uh…meant to be,” he smiled and started to sing. “A match made in heaven- heaven!” the Cupid replied. Dean punched Cupid in the face and doubled over.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean groaned as he clutched his hand. The Cupid vanished, looking upset.

“Smart move,” Malfoy muttered.

“Where is he? Where’d he go?!” Dean looked around.

“I believe you upset him,” Cas stated.

“Upset him?!” Dean exclaimed.

⸸

Sam was in his room. Dean and Jo had already left for the Great Hall, planning to go to Hogsmeade afterwards for a drink. He was happy for his brother, glad that he had someone to look after him. His head continued to thump painfully. It was like that since the morning, never letting up. He didn’t want to worry Dean. He frowned, rubbing his temples as he pulled open his dresser drawer and started looking for some painkillers. Sam surveyed the empty packet with a groan. Were wizards ever going to invent paracetamol…? He pulled out his wand. “Accio Tylenol!” Nothing, well it didn’t hurt to try.

He sat on his bed. The pounding in his head getting worse

“Damn it…” He frowned.

Maybe he should have talked to Dean before he left… told him what was going on. But he would have worried the crap out of him. He didn’t want to do that to him. Maybe it would be fine to just skip Hogsmeade today.

He knew he’d accidentally done it before it hit. When it did, everything went black. He barely noticed himself fall to the ground. His whole body was thrashing this way and that, face screwing up in pain. He was shaking with an intense pain running through his body. All the while he could see the fires of Hell behind his eyelids. He heard Lucifer’s voice in his head, laughing and jeering, just like in the Cage. His muscles shook with pain, but eventually, it subsided. It seemed like a lifetime. His body slumped, limp. He lay on the floor for a long while, breathing heavily. His chest was heaving, lungs starved of precious oxygen. Heart pounding and with shaking hands, he pulled himself up on the bed and just sat there. He cracked the wall, again. Shit.

As the next while passed, he tried to think of a way to fix this. He couldn’t keep having these seizures until the wall broke, completely reducing him to a puddle. He received a text from Dean asking where he was. After replying, saying he was going to have a rain check on the Hogsmeade visit, claiming sickness, he used Jess and sent a quick memo. It wasn’t long before he got a reply. 

Soon, Sam paused in front of the golden eagle that was the entrance to the Headmaster’s office. He said the password and started ascending the stairs. Albus was waiting for him in his office.

“Please have a seat, Sam.” Albus gestured to the open seat in front of the professor’s desk.

“Thank you for meeting me, Professor Dumbledore,” Sam smiled as he sat in the seat opposite Dumbledore. “I’m sure you are wondering why I asked you to meet me in private.”

“I’m sure there are many reasons, but I have a guess.” Albus inspected Sam with his eyes peering over his half-moon spectacles. “You want to know if you can extract memories and forget them completely?”
Sam stared at him, dumbfounded. “How do you know?”

“I have often wondered that myself.” Albus walked over to his personal Pensieve. “I, like yourself Sam, have many things from my past that I wish that I could forget. There are certain spells that can alter a person’s memory. Obliviate being the only one I know of guaranteed to work. The spell is used to hide a memory of a particular event.” Albus noticed Sam’s expression. “One which may be of use to you, I assume.” 

“I do have… certain things in my past that I would rather forget,” Sam admitted his time in Hell would be one of them. It was certainly the biggest one.

“It can backfire if done incorrectly,” Albus warned. “One of our previous Professors suffered a nasty accident with Obliviate… his memories were completely and permanently wiped. He is currently residing in St. Mungo’s Hospital.”

“Yeah,” Sam frowned. “I don’t want to go that extreme. Just certain things.”

“There is also the Pensive that you are using. There’s debate about whether or not you make a copy of the memory, or if you take the memory out of your head altogether.” Albus mused, coming back to his desk.

“But is there a way to pull the memories out and keep them out?” Sam was interested in Obliviate, but he didn’t want the memories gone permanently. Albus pointed to the shelves of bottles behind the Pensieve. “Those are personal memories that I have collected, some are my own, and others are copies of other people’s memories that have been given to me. I am still not sure how it all works. We could spend months going over every little detail about this issue. All I can tell you is to experiment with it, pull out a memory and see if you can remember anything about it.” He laced his fingers together and placed them under his chin. “But before I send you away, I must ask you why.”

Sam looked down at his hands.

“I just want the pain to go away, the memories, the nightmares, all of it.” He felt like the weight of his memories were pressing down on him literally.

“I understand Mr Winchester. I do hope you will be successful in your endeavours. And please let me know what you find out.”

“Thanks,” Sam said gratefully, and he left the office.

⸸

“Come on, Dean, I could drink more than that,” Jo challenged as she downed her Firewhiskey. “Don’t be a pussy.”

Dean frowned. “What?” 

Jo pushed the bottle of Firewhiskey toward him. “You know.” She smirked.

“Maybe I don’t.”

“Are you going to sit here and dick around or are you gonna take a shot?” Jo laughed as she grinned. “Or have you gone soft?”

“Look at you, two penis jokes in a row,” Dean grinned as he downed his shot. “Gold star for you.”

“I learned from the best.” She winked.

“True, true,” Dean smirked. 

The two of them were in the Three Broomsticks for the evening, figuring a drink was in the cards. Or many, many drinks.

“I can drink you under the table, Winchester,” Jo scoffed.

“Are you sure about that?” Dean grinned, kissing her. “Cause I know a few things I can do better. Making you scream for instance,” he muttered saucily. Jo frowned as he nibbled on her ear. “I know how to make you scream too.” She smirked as she pinched his nipple hard. 

“Ow… Anyway,” Dean began, changing the subject. “What do you think of all this stuff?”

“It’s trippy,” Jo replied, sipping on her beer. “But it seems interesting.”

“They’re good people,” Dean agreed.

“The chick at the bar keeps looking over here at you.” Jo nodded over to the barmaid. “She’s pretty.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” Dean smirked.

“I don’t know, do you think that she’s pretty?” She looked into his eyes.

Dean had to think quickly, not wanting to spend Valentine’s Day in the dog house, or worse, in the friend zone. “You’re the prettiest thing in this bar babe.”

“Good,” Jo smirked. “You better believe it.” Their lips met in a kiss again. 

“That was fun last night,” Dean trailed a finger along Jo’s arm. “I’d like a rerun.”

“That could be arranged,” Jo laughed. They continued to drink for a few moments before Dean spoke again. 

“It’s so different,” he began. “Having you all back.”

“I can imagine,” Jo replied. 

Mary and John walked in at that moment. They spotted Dean and Jo.

“Hey, you two, we wondered where you got to,” Mary smiled.

“Hey, any sign of Sam?” Dean asked.

“I thought he was with you?” John frowned.

Dean pulled out his phone and sent out a quick text to Sam. “No, he said he would meet us here.” 

“Is there a reason to be worried?” Mary’s concern grew at the worried look in Dean’s eyes.

“I just texted him,” Dean replied. His phone pinged. He looked at the screen and read. “Rain check? Not feeling well.”

Jo frowned, “Should we head back? I kinda feel like an ass being out here if he doesn’t feel well.” 

“He did mention something about feeling tired this morning,” Dean replied. “Maybe he’s just feeling a bit run down.”

“Maybe we should go back.” Mary looked concerned for her son. “If he’s sick I should be there taking care of him.”

“Okay sure,” Dean nodded. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 37

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 19 ^th February 2012

The next few days were reasonably quiet. Dean was snoring lightly laying on his side, one arm around Jo’s bare shoulders. It was a blustery windy morning. Slowly, something started to come into his awareness. His head moved to one side, eyes peeling open. For the first half of a second, his eyes had to adjust to the light.  Then a familiar figure came into his vision,  looking confused with his head tilted to one side. 

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas! What the hell?!” Dean hissed as he looked to Jo beside him.  His heart leapt into his throat,  banging against his ribs. She was still sleeping peacefully.

“My apologies,” Castiel replied. “I need to speak with you, Dean.” 

Part of Dean wanted to tell the Angel to fuck right off. The fact was, despite him feeling a little guilty about snapping at Cas in the Hospital Wing, he still had a point. Cas wasn’t there. He’d been flitting in and out all year. Angel civil war or not. And Dean was stabbed, no, fucking dying, and he hadn’t shown. He remembered the last few seconds of consciousness he had, praying to Cas to help him.  

Dean slipped out of bed, pulling his dressing gown around him and put a finger to his lips, then pointed at the door that led to the corridor. Both hunter and Angel left the room.

“What is it, Cas?” Dean asked, surveying the Angel with a levelling stare. The Angel didn’t speak  “Hurry up Cas. It’s cold, and I’m flapping in the breeze here,” he frowned.

“I can help you if it’s cold…” The Angel tilted his head in confusion, wanting to help him anyway he could to make it up to him.

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m good Cas… what do you want?”

“I want to apologize,” Cas began. “I was not there when you needed me.”

“That was a pretty dick move there.” Dean agreed with him.  But I’m sure you had your reasons, man.” 

“I did, but that was no excuse. I should have come when I heard your prayer, but I was incapacitated.”

“You said that…” Dean nodded. “What happened though?”

“I became aware that Crowley wanted to kill you. He was angry about the death of Eve. I’ve been keeping an eye on him since we found out he was alive. I confronted him, and he trapped me in Holy Fire.”

Dean sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re alright though?”

“I am fine. It’s you I’m concerned about,” Cas replied at once. 

“I’m alright. They magicked me up good and proper,” Dean replied. “I’m sure I glow in the dark now.” He added with a grin. Cas did not smile.

“I don’t think magic can make you phosphorescent,” Cas frowned. 

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what that means,” Dean sighed. “But you’re forgiven Cas. Just don’t jump off the radar again.”

“Of course.” Cas nodded. “Thank you, Dean.”

“No problem buddy,” Dean smiled a little.  He watched as the Angel flew away. 

A noise behind him made him turn. 

“Hey, what are you doing-” Sam was asking, when the wind blew in the wrong direction.

“Oh, God… Dean….” Sam groaned, covering his eyes. “Please tell me you are not commando under that thing…” he said rhetorically, knowing full well, unfortunately, that he was indeed, commando. Dean covered his lower half with a mock offended look on his face.

“Why were you looking?!”

“Kinda hard to miss.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Dean grinned. “Poor Jess… she must have been so disappointed…” Sam shot him with, what Dean liked to call, a level 6 bitch face.

“I’m gonna get dressed,” Dean smirked. “Unless you wanna check out my ass….”

“No, for the love of God, go change.”

Dean retreated back into his and Jo’s room

“Where were you?” Jo asked, sitting up in bed. 

“Cas turned up. He said sorry for not being around when I was stabbed. Turns out he confronted Crowley, and he trapped Cas in Holy Fire.”

“Wow. Angels have issues with Demons. What a surprise.” Jo rolled her eyes.

“True,” Dean shrugged. He pulled on his robes quickly. “I must be popular today. Sam wants to talk to me too.”

“Oh okay,” Jo nodded. “See you at the Great Hall?” 

“Sure.”

Jo got dressed and left soon after. There was a soft knock on the door.

“You decent?” came a disapproving Sam.

“Yes.” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam entered the room. “Prude…” He added under his breath.

“What’s up?” Dean asked.

“I need to tell you something.” Sam sighed, sounding annoyed.

“Okay then. Spit it out sasquatch. I’m starving.” Dean grumbled as he tied his shoes.

“Remember when you guys went to Hogsmeade on Valentine’s?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, you were sick,” Dean looked at Sam as he spoke. “Why? Were you not?”

“Not really,” Sam sighed.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked suspiciously. 

“I think there’s a crack in the wall.” Sam hung his head.

“Another one?” Dean’s eyes widened. “And you waited 5 days to tell me?! What the fuck, Sam?!”

“Because I knew you would react this way!” Sam exclaimed. “Look, I’m fine.”

“Would you know if you were fine?! Dammit, Sammy.” Dean started to pace. “You could’ve died! I thought you didn’t want any more secrets between us! Now the shoes are on the other foot I guess.”

“You know that isn’t fair Dean.” Sam crossed his arms across his chest.

“You promised you wouldn’t poke at the fucking wall,” Dean scowled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“You think I did this on purpose?!” Sam replied heatedly. 

“I didn’t say that,” Dean glared.

“But you sure as hell were thinking it, weren’t you?!”

“Stop putting words in my mouth, damn it! I’m just worried about you!” After a minute of tense breathing, he added. “I’m sorry man…” 

Sam looked at Dean in surprise.

“I don’t wanna fight with you over this,” Dean continued. “I just want you to look after yourself. You’re my pain in the ass little brother. You know it’s my job to worry.”

“I… I know,” Sam replied, taking a calming breath. He knew Dean was just looking for his best interests and wellbeing. “I’m sorry too.”

“But you’re okay? I mean nothing got shook loose up there did it?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Sam replied. The conversation with Dumbledore could stay private.

“I’m okay.”

Breakfast that morning was an awkward affair. They didn’t speak much. Sam told his parents what happened a few days before. They were worried of course, and a little angry that Sam didn’t tell them. Sam understood why, but he just wanted to forget about it. 

“Why didn’t ya tell us, ya idjit?” Bobby had scolded.

“Did you see the Daily Prophet?” Sam asked, changing the subject.

“Why are you still reading that crap?” Dean frowned, looking at the newspaper in Sam’s hands. From here all he could see was a bunch of Dark Magic propaganda. 

“I know, but nevermind that. It says here that the wandmaker, Mykew Gregorovitch was found dead in his home last night.”

“Wandmaker?” Dean asked. “Wasn’t-”

“Ollivander, yeah,” Sam replied. “That’s the second wandmaker to be murdered in a few months.”

“That’s weird…”

⸸

Harry was walking down the corridor, the Marauder’s Map in hand. He unfolded the parchment, a firm purpose in his thoughts. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he said quietly and tapped the Map with the tip of his wand. At once, the ink began to appear, bringing the Map to life. It didn’t take too long for Harry to find the name he was looking for, although he was surprised at where he found it. Draco Malfoy’s name appeared in the second-floor girls’ bathroom. Right beside it, was the name, Myrtle Warren, or ’Moaning Myrtle,’ as most of the school knew her. 

This wasn’t the first time Malfoy acted strangely. He had been like that all year. First in Borgin and Burke’s before term started and showing Borgin what Harry suspected as the Dark Mark. Then his hushed conversation with Snape, when the Professor offered Malfoy his help. Harry got no further in his quest for answers about what Malfoy was up to. It was also his subtle behaviours that changed. Malfoy no longer goaded Harry or threatened him with cursing or insulting Harry, any way he could to get under his skin. It was all very strange. Harry tapped the Map with his wand, said “Mischief Managed,” and put the map away.

Harry tore across the Castle, stopping short of the second-floor girl’s bathroom. Unfortunately, he hadn’t thought to pack his Invisibility Cloak. Harry peered around the doorway. Malfoy was panting, muffled sobs to be heard. He was looking in the mirror, clutching the sink below him. His knuckles were white as he looked into his own teary blue eyes. He then bowed his head as another voice drifted through the room.

“Don’t,” Myrtle soothed. “Don’t cry. You can tell me what’s wrong.”

“No,” Malfoy choked out.

“I can help-”

“No one can help me!” Malfoy interrupted, turning on the spot to face the ghost. His hands were trembling. “I can’t do it… It won’t work. He’ll kill me if I don’t do it soon!” Tears were streaming down his face, to Harry’s surprise. Malfoy’s shoulders were shaking. He sniffled and looked beyond Myrtle, spotting Harry’s figure at the door.

“You!” Malfoy fumed and pulled his wand from his cloak. Harry did the same. Malfoy fired a hex in Harry’s direction, which flew mere inches from his face. The curse hit the wall lamp beside him, and it shattered. Harry dove away from the broken glass.

Harry sent a Stinging Jinx towards Malfoy, which grazed his left hand, causing him to cry out. He sent a Leg-Locker curse that again missed, smashing the cistern behind Malfoy. Water poured all over the floor. Myrtle was screaming for them to stop.

“No, STOP IT!” she shouted. “Don’t fight!”

“Cruic-” Malfoy began, raising his wand.

“Sectumsempra!” Harry yelled. A white light shot from his wand. Malfoy’s scream filled the air. Harry’s blood froze in his veins. It was as if an invisible sword had slashed open Malfoy’s face and chest. Blood spurted from the wounds, mixing in the water soaking the floor. 

“No,” Harry choked, staggering back a few steps. “I- I didn’t mean to.”

Myrtle was screaming again. “MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

At that moment, Sam rushed into the room, stopping short when he saw what met him. 

“Shit…” he mumbled. He ran forward, dropping to his knees. 

“What happened?” Sam demanded.

“I didn’t mean to… we were fighting and-” Harry was stuttering.  As if the timing couldn’t be worse, Snape rounded the corner and rushed inside. He pushed Harry out of the way, face livid. He knelt over Malfoy and drew his wand, murmuring the same words Madam Pomfrey had when Dean was stabbed, Sam noticed. 

Snape traced his wand over the deep gashes Harry’s curse had made. The wounds seemed to be knitting together again. Harry was frozen in shock. Sam was checking Malfoy’s pulse and stood.

“I’ll get Madam Pomfrey,” Sam said. Snape looked to the fellow Professor for a brief moment and nodded. Sam sprinted from the room. Harry was left standing stock still, horrified. Snape lifted Malfoy into a pseudo-standing position. 

“Hopefully Winchester has told Madam Pomfrey already. You need the hospital Wing. There may be some scarring but if you take dittany straight away you might avoid it. Come,” Snape said as he carried Malfoy out of the room. “Potter, you wait for me.”

Five minutes later, Sam returned.

“They have Malfoy in the Hospital Wing, he’ll be fine,” Sam told Harry, and he visibly relaxed. 

“Harry, what happened?” Sam continued. 

“We were fighting. He pulled his wand on me first. I didn’t know what the spell did,” Harry told Sam. Snape entered the room then, fixing Harry with a cold stare.

“I can take it from here Professor Winchester,” Snape said coldly. “Apparently, I underestimated you, Potter,” he said quietly. “Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic? Who taught you that spell?”

“I read about it somewhere.”

“Where?”

“It was a library book,” Harry invented wildly. “I can’t remember what it was called.”

“Liar,” Snape accused. “Bring me your school bag.”

Harry raced from the room, his footsteps splashing in the water as he left. He took no notice of anyone as they took in his dishevelled appearance. He quickly managed to talk Ron into giving his copy of Advanced Potion Making to him. Then, he shoved his own into the Room of Requirement. A few minutes later, he was back in front of Snape, who held out his hand wordlessly for Harry’s school bag. Harry handed it over, panting and waiting. One by one, Snape extracted Harry’s books and examined them. Finally, the only book left was the Potions book, which he looked at very carefully before speaking.

“This is your copy of Advanced Potion-Making, is it, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry.

“You’re quite sure of that, are you, Potter?”

“Yes,” said Harry, with a touch more defiance.

“This is the copy of Advanced Potion-Making that you purchased from Flourish and Blotts?”

“Yes,  said Harry firmly.

“Then why,” asked Snape,  does it have the name ’Roonil Wazlib’ written inside the front cover?”

“That’s my nickname,” he lied quickly.

“Your nickname,” repeated Snape.

“Yeah… that’s what my friends call me,  said Harry.

“I understand what a nickname is,” said Snape. The cold, black eyes were boring once more into Harry’s; he tried not to look into them. Close your mind… Close your mind… But he had never learned how to do it properly 

“Do you know what I think, Potter?” said Snape, very quietly. “I think that you are a liar and a cheat and that you deserve detention with me every Saturday until the end of term. “What do you think, Potter? 

“I — I don’t agree, sir,” said Harry, avoiding his gaze.

“Well, we shall see how you feel after your detentions,” said Snape. “Ten o’clock Saturday morning, Potter. My office.”

“But sir…” said Harry, looking up desperately. “Quidditch… the last match of the-”

“Ten o’clock,” whispered Snape, with a smile that showed his yellow teeth. “Poor Gryffindor. Fourth place this year, I fear…”

⸸

That night, Harry walked into the Demonology classroom, pulling his Invisibility Cloak off of him. His mind was still whirling from what happened. Earlier, within fifteen minutes of the incident, he was dragged into a meeting with Professor McGonagall, telling him he was lucky not to be expelled, and to take Snape’s punishment as mercy. News of Harry’s attack on Malfoy spread around the school like wildfire. Pansy Parkinson had already been to see Malfoy,  speaking loudly about the vicious attack on the poor Slytherin student. Hermione was of course horrified, insisting that the Half-Blood Prince’s book was malicious, and he should hand it in to Professor McGonagall at once. Harry refused. After dinner, he had gone into the Demonology classroom and got permission to use the fireplace in their office. He needed to talk to Sirius. 

Harry dropped to his knees in front of the fireplace feeling like he was being sentenced to Azkaban. His shaking hands dove into the Floo Powder, and he spoke clearly, even though his voice was also trembling.

“Number 12, Grimmauld Place,” he said and threw the powder into the fireplace. Instantly, a green flame ignited in the fireplace and began to lap upward. Harry stuck his face into the flame and was able to see the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. On second thought, it would have been a better idea to use the mirror Sirius once gave him, but it lay shattered in the bottom of his trunk. Who knew if it even still worked? Or if Sirius still had the other one after Mundungus raided the place?

“Sirius!” Harry called. He heard distant footsteps, and Sirius entered the room. His gaze surveyed the room, and he spotted his godson’s head in the fire.

“Harry?” Sirius instantly approached and got to his knees to face Harry. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Sirius, I — I made a huge mistake.”

“What’s wrong?” Sirius asked.

“I attacked Malfoy,” Harry blurted out.

Sirius’s eyes widened. “You did what?” A small part of his mind wanted to congratulate Harry, but the teen seemed upset, so it must have been bad. “I’m sure it was in self-defence. Right?”

“Kind of,” Harry replied. “I was watching him on the map”

“Again?”

“I know he was up to something, Sirius”

“Okay, okay. Go on.”

“He was in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, and he was crying.”

“You went in alone?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point. He caught me and started firing hexes at me. We started duelling. I hit him with a spell I found… it was like he was stabbed, Sirius.” Saying it out loud, again, made it ten times worse. “I could’ve… I could have murdered him.” 

“Calm down, pup. You didn’t do it intentionally.”

“Of course I didn’t. I had no idea what the spell did,” Harry replied. 

“Where did you learn a spell like that?” Sirius asked.

“It was written in my Potions book…” Harry admitted. “The person that owned it before me wrote a tonne of notes in it. This one said ’for enemies’ I never thought-”

Sirius interrupted him. “Is the Malfoy boy alright now?”

“Snape came in. He healed Malfoy up. He’s in the Hospital Wing now. Malfoy will be alright. Snape wanted to see my books. I’m not sure why.” Harry knew he was rambling. 

“Listen to me, pup. You need to get rid of that book. Now.”

“I did. I hid the book and showed him Ron’s instead. I was already in enough trouble. Professor McGonagall said I was lucky not to be expelled.” Harry was still speaking in a rush.

“I know Harry… take a breath.” Sirius wished he could be there in person to comfort his godson.

Harry nodded and did so, trying to stay calm.

“That’s it.” Sirius smiled nodding. “I’m sure Snape wanted you expelled.”

“Probably,” Harry frowned. “I have detention with him every Saturday until the end of term. I deserve it.”

“Just keep your nose down until then. Don’t let the blighter get under your skin.”

“I won’t,” Harry nodded. “But he was saying something… before he saw me.”

“What?” Sirius asked. 

“He was talking to Moaning Myrtle. She was comforting him. He was saying that if he didn’t do something, he would kill him.”

“Who’s he?” Sirius asked. It was at that moment that in the excitement and joy of having Sirius back, Harry realized that he had not told him of his suspicions of Malfoy. 

“I talked with Mr Weasley and Lupin,” Harry began. “A few months ago. They said I was nuts.” 

Harry recalled the brief interaction he had with the two older wizards. After the Order meeting in which the Winchesters explained their past to their newly resurrected father, Harry filled Mr Weasley and Lupin in on what he knew about Malfoy while John Winchester left to speak with Bobby Singer on the phone. They doubted Malfoy’s alliance with Voldemort and rise to the rank of Death Eater.

“Harry,” Sirius stopped him calmly. “From the beginning.”

“Before term started,” Harry took a breath and began again. “Ron, Hermione and I followed Malfoy down Knockturn Alley. He was talking to Borgin, and I think Malfoy showed him something on his arm. Borgin seemed scared. I think it could have been the Dark Mark…”

“You think Voldemort branded a sixteen-year-old?” Sirius asked.

“I don’t know!” Harry replied, frustrated. “But that’s not everything. A few months ago, he and Snape were talking. Snape was offering him his help. I didn’t hear everything, but he said he’d promised his mother, made the Unbreakable Vow.”

“I don’t know Harry.”

“If you don’t believe-” Harry began

“I didn’t say that,” Sirius replied. “But we’ll look into it, okay? Just be careful. Remember, head low.”

Harry took a breath. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 38

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 27 ^th February 2012

Dean was sitting down by the Black Lake. He wanted some time to himself, to think. His mind was on his little brother. The concern he had about Sam’s wellbeing increased a thousandfold since Sam told him what happened to him on Valentine’s Day. It was, and had always been, his job to protect his brother. Sure, Sam was pissed when he exploded on him like that, but could Sam really blame him?

Dean was still angry at Sam for keeping it from him, after everything. In the last few months alone, they’d been through so much. And now with Crowley and whatever the fuck he was up to right now. Surely back to trying to crack Purgatory. Which was all they fucking needed right now.  He needed to keep those he loved close. Those who he had already, Sam and Bobby and those he had just gotten back. His parents, Ash, Ellen, and Jo… especially Jo.

The first time he had ever had any infatuation about her was when she went missing on their Dr. H. H. Holmes case. At first, his thoughts were ’Ellen is going to kill me if anything happens to her.’ but the longer she was gone, the more anxious he got for her safety. His mind started turning then about starting a life with Jo. 

There wouldn’t be any reason to hide anything from her; they would both be in the same line of work. He had encountered plenty of hunters that were married to their partners, so it could work for them too. And she was a real pistol when she wanted to be, but kind as well. He could see a future with her. But when they took her back to the Roadhouse and Ellen told Jo why she didn’t want her hanging around with him and Sam, he thought everything was over.

It was a long time before he had seen her again, by that time he had forgotten about that one fling in Philly. But after seeing her bound and gagged by Sam who was possessed by Meg brought back all the memories and emotions. Of course, she had to feel the same way right? If she hadn’t, why did she drag Dean out of the water after Sam shot him? Not only that but patched him up too. She went on her own after that, as she still hadn’t come to terms with John’s involvement in her father’s death. The last time he saw her was…

The time they tried to kill Lucifer. The night had started out playful. Dean had given Jo that ’last night on Earth’ one-liner, she turned him down flat, but that made him want her even more. Later he, Sam, Jo, and Ellen met Meg, and she unleashed the Hellhounds on them. Dean had almost been killed by one when Jo leapt in and saved him, but she had been wounded herself in the process. Dean stopped thinking about it right there, not wanting to relive the last time he’d seen her on this side of the dirt. 

But now you have her back, a small voice reminded him. He felt his heart leaping into his throat like this was his second chance to make things right, to make amends for everything. The gears were turning in his head. They had a good relationship so far. She was caring but took no-nonsense. And God, the sex… he could fuck her all day if she let him. She seemed as eager as he was. They spent a lot more time in the staff quarters since her return, much to Sam’s disgust. Dean came across a spell; Muffliato, which prevented other people from hearing. It was perfect. 

“Hey, stranger.” A voice came from behind him. He opened his eyes to see long blonde hair blocking out the sun and tickling his face.

“Hey,” he smiled.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked.

“Just thinking,” Dean began. “Jo…” Jo looked at him, waiting for him to continue. She handed him a small glass. Dean smiled, chugging the whiskey down.

“What do you wanna say?” she asked. Dean took a deep breath.

“You deserve better, Jo,” Dean breathed, trying to stop it from hitching with emotion.

“Dean, my life was good. Really,” Jo smiled a little. “And I’m back now.”

“You were a kid,” Dean stated in remorse. 

“Not true,” Jo disagreed.

“You and Sam. I just — you know, hunters are never kids. I never was. I didn’t even stop to think about it,” Dean ranted, his voice breaking a little.

“It’s not your fault. It wasn’t on you,” Jo replied, taking his hand in hers.

“No, but I didn’t want to do it alone. Who does? No, the right thing would have been to send your ass back home to your mom,” Dean spat bitterly. He saw Jo smirk.

“Like to have seen you try,” she smiled. Dean snorted in amusement, lips curling in a small smile.

“Jo… I’ve been thinking about everything… How much we’ve all lost, and how easily it could happen again.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Might as well be happy while we can, huh?” he smiled.

“So, what are you getting at Winchester?” Jo asked. Dean lay on the grass, moving his hand back and digging into the back pocket of his jeans. When he retrieved his hand, it was closed in a fist, palm up. His fingers uncurled, revealing a simple diamond ring. Jo’s eyes widened. 

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked. Dean nodded.

“I probably should do this properly but being on a teacher’s salary…” he trailed off rolling his eyes. As Jo smiled, standing over him. She picked up the ring from his hand. 

“So, do you wanna?” Dean asked, a faint red stain beginning to form on his cheeks, under the freckles. Jo smiled. Dean watched as she pushed the ring onto the slim third finger of her left hand. Dean’s eyes widened. Jo suddenly laughed and bent down to kiss him. 

“Yes,” she smiled. Dean grinned. She pulled Dean to his feet. As they walked to the castle, Dean’s hand snaked around Jo’s waist.

They arrived in the Great Hall just as breakfast began. Jo and Dean walked towards the hunter’s table, but Dean stopped.

“Don’t tell them until after, ’kay?” he smiled. “I don’t want a big production out of it.” Jo nodded. Her left hand slipped into her denim jacket pocket. Dean took a seat beside Jo. Breakfast was a quiet affair. Sam kept his eyes down, quiet. The seizure a few days before was a shock. Sam knew that Dean was still a little pissed off with him. He almost felt normal now, whatever normal was for him anymore. Apparently, he’d recovered from whatever the fuck had happened to him that night. 

Just before the students left for their classes, Albus stood, calling their attention.

“Before we go to our classes, I hope you all will join me in congratulating our own Professor Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle in their engagement,” Albus smiled. Dean gulped; eyes boring into the stone walls as the students applauded. He looked at his fiancée. Dumbledore must’ve seen the ring. 

“Before your mother kills me,” he said. “I love you.” Jo laughed humourlessly as they saw the grinning faces of the Winchesters and the one pissed off face of the other Harvelle. Dean smiled weakly as he waved at Ellen.

Dean saw his mother’s eyes fill with happy tears. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around her son’s neck in a hug. While she hugged Jo, John walked to his son and pulled him in tight.

“Congratulations, good luck with Ellen” he smiled at them both. Sam was grinning from ear to ear as he punched his big brother on the shoulder lightly. He hugged Jo and stepped back. Ellen looked at the two, trying to calm her emotions. Her little girl was engaged, going to leave her, to live with a man whose father was responsible for her own husband’s death. It wasn’t Dean’s fault, of course. She sighed. She was excited for her daughter and her new… fiancé. Referring to Dean Winchester as a fiancé was a little strange, to say the least.

“Dean,” she said, seeing the man gulp audibly. “I’m not mad. You make her happy. I know you love her.”  Dean looked surprised.

“But,” she continued. “If you ever do anything, you’ll be dead before you hit the ground!” she threatened. “You understand me?”

“Threat noted,” Dean replied in a surprised voice. He was surprised and he half expected Ellen to blow his head off. He was looking down, wondering if she had her gun with her now or if he could haul ass before she could go back to her room and get one. 

“Congrats boy,” he heard Bobby say from the table. 

“Thanks, guys,” Jo smiled, kissing Dean on the cheek.  Dean’s cheeks were a little pink from embarrassment. 

“You’ll certainly have your hands full Joanna Beth,” Ellen said with a little smile as she took a drink of water. 

“I’m up for the challenge Mom.”  Her hand reached under the table to squeeze his upper thigh, causing him to jump a little. She grinned. “I know how to tame him.”

The bell rang then. The hunters rose from their seats.

“Lesson plan?” Jo asked. 

“Yeah, we haven’t got any students in the first period,” Dean replied, wrapping an arm around his new fiancée’s waist. To say he was elated was an understatement. Jo agreed to marry him. It was more than he could ask for. “I won’t be long.”

Together, Sam and Dean walked toward the Demonology classroom. They put together their necessary materials and got straight to work. Sam desperately wanted to talk about his brother’s engagement, but Dean seemed to be in the ’let’s get this crap done’ mode. Plenty of time for celebrating later. 

“So, we’re doing Tulpas this week?” Sam began, putting a roll of parchment on the table

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “That sounds fine. I’ll ask Bobby for a few books on them.” Sam hummed in reply as he flicked through the pages of Supernatural Beasts and Defence.

“I was thinking,” Dean began as he looked up at his brother.

“Yeah?” Sam asked. 

“We have done a lot on defence, but what about when shit goes wrong?” Dean asked.

“What do you mean?” His brother looked confused as he tried to understand the meaning behind Dean’s words.

“I mean, we haven’t shown the kids any first aid,” Dean replied. “Dad drilled it into us as kids.” It wasn’t a lie. John was adamant about teaching his sons how to patch up bruises, cuts, gashes, take care of broken bones. He had them practising CPR the minute they were able to. Both brothers remembered the training well. And it came in handy. 

“That’s true,” Sam replied. “But is it needed?” he asked. “I mean, they have magic to do that. Look at how quick Poppy fixed you up, and Malfoy.”

Dean’s mind went back to the night Sam told them about what Harry had done. Honestly, he didn’t think Harry meant to do it. But still, seeing Malfoy lying in the Hospital Wing under bloody gauze? The kid was lucky he survived.

“Still can’t believe Harry did that. Who knew he had it in him?” Dean said, more to himself than anyone else.
“I know. He did say that he didn’t know what the spell did,” Sam replied. “Not that excuses things.”

“We’ve hunted things for less,” Dean agreed.

“Dean…” Sam frowned. “Harry is just a kid, he didn’t know. He made a mistake. And he seemed pretty torn up about it.”

“I know, I know. I was just stating the facts.” Dean waved him off. “Anyway, back to the point. I still think we should show them the basics. Our whole mantra has been what happens if the wand gets knocked out of their hands.”

“True,” Sam nodded. “Good point. So for next week’s training classes?”

“Yep,” Dean agreed. He thought back to their Angel friend’s odd behaviour the last few times they had spoken. “Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you noticed Cas being a bit odd lately?”

“In what way?” Sam wasn’t paying much attention, trying to organize books for the lesson today.

“You haven’t noticed?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “We’ve barely seen him since we got here. He barely keeps in contact. It’s weird.”

“He’s busy with Raphael-”

“If I hear that winged dick’s name again, I’m gonna lose it,” Dean grumbled. “I know he’s busy with his Angel war pissing match, but he’s freaking MIA most of the time, man.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam replied, trying to give the Angel the benefit of the doubt. Dean, of course, had filled Sam in on what had happened when Cas came to apologize. Since the attack, they put up protection all over the castle to prevent Demons from entering. 

“He told me he wouldn’t go missing again, but between that and what happened a few weeks ago… I prayed to him before I passed out,” he admitted. 

“You did?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I thought it was lights out for me,” Dean replied, frowning. Better get this over with.

“When he ’ignored’ me, it pissed me off. That’s why I snapped at him in the Hospital Wing. As we found out, Crowley had him trapped ’cause Cas tried to stop him.” Sam nodded and touched his shoulder to Dean’s briefly to get his attention.

“Man, he knows. It’s Cas. He understands you’re worried about him.”  Dean nodded.

“Okay, is the chick-flick moment over?” Dean snorted. Sam laughed. 

“Yeah, it’s over.” Sam grinned. “So are we gonna talk about it or what? You’re engaged!” He noticed the slight flush in Dean’s cheeks, but like the good brother he was; he didn’t comment on it. Yet…

“I was fuckin’ terrified man,” Dean laughed. “I didn’t think she’d say yes.”

“Are you nuts? She’s been obsessed with you for years.”

“Shut up…” Dean blushed again.

“Seriously though Dean. I’m happy for you. Congratulations. You deserve it.”

“Thought we said chick flick moments were over?” Dean wondered, then smiled. He was in too much of a good mood to bust his balls over it. “Thanks, Sammy.”

⸸

Sam was walking down the corridor. It was right after dinner. The hunters’ table filled with celebration and merriment as they toasted Dean and Jo’s engagement. Mary and Ellen began talking about wedding details already. They were thinking of over the Easter break, figuring the sooner, the better and the students would be on holiday anyway. John pulled Dean aside, saying that he hadn’t got a chance to say it earlier in the day, but he was proud of his son. Sam smiled to himself, but it was short-lived, as he suddenly felt a hand on his face.

“What the hell?!” Sam’s words were muffled. 

“Shut up Moose,” a Scottish drawl hissed in his ear. Crowley pulled him into a nearby classroom. He locked the door behind them and sealed off every exit.

“Crowley,” Sam glared. “What in the hell?”

“Alive and in the flesh,” Crowley smirked. “And I’m taking out the trash…” 

“Screw you,” Sam glared, “Exorcizamus te…”

“Now, now. None of that.” Crowley threw him against the wall. Sam grunted in pain as he hit the stone. “It’s hard to talk when you can’t breathe.” Crowley approached Sam, and he wrapped his fingers around his throat. Sam struggled, trying to pull his hands away. A few seconds went by and the air he was trying to pull into his lungs felt like sucking through a straw. He began to feel light-headed. 

“Bet you’re wondering how I got in here,” said Crowley smugly. “That’s for me to know, and you, never to. You won’t live long enough to wonder anyway.” His hand tightened and Sam gasped in pain. 

“Crowley…” Sam grunted. His hands went to Crowley’s again, trying to pull it away.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You Winchester’s are like cockroaches.”

Sam grunted in pain. “Dean will find you.”

“No he won’t,” Crowley grinned. The fingers on his other hand tightened and Sam felt as if he’d been punched in the chest. Something cold and unyielding was wrapping around his heart.

“I’ll make sure to snuff you out.” Crowley glared. The grip around Sam’s heart increased.

“I-” Sam choked. 

Suddenly the door burst open.

Crowley glared. His head whirled around to see Albus Dumbledore entering. He pulled out his wand and wordlessly pointed it at Crowley, causing him to fly against the opposite wall. Sam fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. His heart was racing, but the icy grip was gone. 

“Oh, bollocks…” Crowley muttered. He vanished. “Damn that ancient, dress-wearing crackpot…” he said once he appeared in a room full to the ceiling of random objects. He moved quickly. Those wizards could lock down the castle any minute. He ducked into the cabinet and disappeared in a flash of light.

Meanwhile, in the classroom, Albus was helping Sam to his feet.

“I’m okay, Professor,” Sam assured. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Sam. That was the Demon Crowley, correct?”

“Yeah, that was him,” Sam grimaced. “I don’t know how he could have gotten in here…”

“That is a mystery,” Albus mused. “We will increase the protection on the castle, so this does not happen again.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam assured. “The warding we put up should have kept him out.”

“Okay. I need to talk to Dean and the others.” Albus nodded and Sam left the room. He sprinted toward the staff quarters. “Dean?!”

Meanwhile, Jo lay naked on their bed, gasping Dean’s name, as her fiancée knelt between her legs. Her fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue lapped and suckled her clit. He was about to slip another finger inside her when he heard his brother’s urgent shout. 

“What the-” Dean muttered. “Sorry babe.” He quickly pulled on a shirt, boxers, and jeans.

“Dammit….” Jo frowned, breathing heavily.

“Sam, what the hell is going on?” Dean asked as he pulled the door open. He could see Mary and John coming out of their rooms too. 

“Sam?” Mary asked.

“It’s Crowley. He was here….” Sam panted.

“What?” Dean asked. That’s when he really looked at his brother. Sam had bruises starting to form on his throat. His eyes were wide. “He did this to you?” 

“He tried to kill me,” Sam nodded. His heart was still racing in his chest, pounding against his ribcage and his breathing was harsh.

“Where is he now?” Mary put her hand on Sam’s cheek.

“Gone. Albus came in, and he got the hell out of dodge.”

John stood up. “We need to go check the warding. The bastard got in somehow.” He went out to gather the other hunters. 

“Are you okay man?” Dean asked Sam.

“Yeah. I think he tried to give me a heart attack or something…”

“Go check the warding with the others, Dean. I can take care of your brother.” Mary nodded to her eldest.

“Okay,” Dean nodded. Mary helped Sam to his room.

“I’m okay Mom,” Sam assured. “Really. People try to kill us all the time.”

Mary frowned. “That isn’t something you should get used to.” Sam laughed and shrugged. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m okay,” Sam smiled and pulled Mary in for a hug. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s okay Sammy,” Mary smiled motherly.

Chapter Text

Chapter 39

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 3 ^rd March 2012

A few days had passed since Sam’s attack. Dean told him to take a few days to recuperate and that he, John and Mary would take over teaching. Sam insisted he was fine, but Dean said he would tie him to the bed, but when Sam told him how wrong that sounded, he relented. But Dean dragged out one of the cushy armchairs for Sam to sit in during the lecture.

“I’m not sitting in that Dean….”

“Fine, then it’s mine,” Dean replied with a smirk and dove into the chair.

“You didn’t really get that for me, did you?”

“Nope.” He gave Sam a dumbass smile. “But if you don’t want it… Finders keepers.”

“What are you? Six?”

“And a half!” Dean stuck out his tongue.

“And they trust you, two idiots, to run a class full of teenagers…?” Bobby rolled his eyes, but his words weren’t harsh. He liked seeing those boys happy. God knows they deserved it.

“I know? Crazy right?” Dean smirked. “Wonder what glue Albus was sniffing.”

“You shouldn’t talk about our boss that way Dean,” Sam commented as he set up the slides for the lesson. “I swear he has ears everywhere.”

“Oh lighten up,” Dean shrugged. “Just because you had a demonic induced heart attack doesn’t mean I’m gonna take it easy on you. And you said I’d be the first one to die of one.”

“Whatever…”

A paper aeroplane zoomed into the room suddenly.

“What the hell?” Sam muttered as he caught it. The paper rustled in his hand and sprang to life, the sound of Albus Dumbledore echoed through the room.

“There will be an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix at 6 pm tonight, please come to my office to discuss the details. Password is ’Apple Drop’” Sam yelped as the letter burst into flames. The letter burned up and vanished.

“Well, that saves on recycling…” Dean muttered. “Don’t wait up I guess babe.”

“You guys are hunters too, You guys need to be in on this.”

“You’re right Sam,” Dean nodded. “I’m nominating all of you. ”

The rest of the day passes without that much incident. They had fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherins that day. Ginny Weasley got herself detention for hexing one of the other students when he bad-mouthed her family.

“The git deserved it….” she had grumbled.

The class on Changelings went on smoothly after that. The boys went to the Great Hall for dinner at five. Dumbledore made no mention of his exploding note when they greeted him at the staff table.

“Good evening,” he greeted with a smile.

The meal went on with its usual chatter. The boys and the other hunters walked to the gargoyle statue, 

“Strange place to put an office….” Ellen muttered.

“Apple Drop,” Dean said to the gargoyle, and it started to move, revealing the stone steps behind. The hunters walked up the steps and knocked on the door. 

“Damn magic….” Bobby grunted as they passed through the entryway.

“Hello everyone,” Albus smiled from behind his desk. “Oh, good, you’ve brought the others. Welcome to my office.”

“Hey,” Dean smiled. “It’s okay I brought them right?”

“Of course. The more, the merrier.” Albus smiled. “Today we will be travelling to my organization’s headquarters. I trust you have told them about the Order?”

“Yeah, we’ve filled them in,” Sam replied. “Though we haven’t told them about the Floo Powder.” 

“This is a way of transportation that we use to travel through fireplaces,” Albus explained.

Dean and Sam had to admit, seeing Ellen and Bobby go ape shit over getting into a burning fireplace was hilarious to watch, now that they were a part of the wizard club. One by one, they travelled by Floo Powder to Number 11, Crossley Street, the abandoned house Sam and Dean first arrived at when going to Grimmauld Place in August.

“Convenient, but scary as hell…” Jo muttered.

The group moved toward Number 12 Grimmauld Place and knocked lightly on the door. 

“We need to be quiet until we get to the kitchen. I’ll explain later,” Dean advised.

“Okay…” Jo replied, confused.

Everyone walked into the kitchen, seeing several people already there. 

“Sam Dean! Delightful to see you again.” The two men were enveloped in a hug by Mrs Weasley. Sirius embraced John, happy to see his friend again.

“Hey Molly,” Dean smiled. 

“Good to see you too,” Sam added. Molly’s eyes roamed over the newcomers and then looked at the pair with questions in her eyes.

“Guys this is our Mom, Mary Winchester, our friends, Bobby Singer, Ellen, and Jo Harvelle,” Dean introduced. “It’s a long story Molly, but they’re here to help. They were brought back in January to help with the fight.”

“Oh my,” Molly gasped, looking at Mary, knowing the brothers lost their mother very young. “You have some fine boys, Mrs Winchester.”

“Thank you. I’m pretty partial to them too.” Mary grinned. John laughed.

“Hey…” Dean pouted. Sirius stepped up.

 “Welcome to my home.”

“Thanks for having us,” Ellen nodded.

“Oh!” Molly interrupted, catching sight of a ring glinting on the young woman, Jo’s finger. 

“Yeah,” Dean caught on to Molly’s look and smirked. “Jo and I got engaged last week. We figured why the hell not.” Molly hit his shoulder lightly. “Language…”

“Mom…” Dean whined. Mary just shrugged. 

“She’s not wrong.”

A light knock on the door interrupted the pleasantries. 

“Ah, that’ll be Dumbledore, I’ll be right back,” Sirius announced as he left the room. A few seconds later he returned with the old wizard in tow. They moved into the kitchen and sat down. The Weasleys were sat at the table, along with Fleur, Sirius, Alastor, Kingsley, Tonks, Remus, Minerva and Snape. They were also surprised to see Harry, Ron, and Hermione at the table too. Dean noticed the Weasley twins congratulating their little sister.

Albus stood up. “I suppose this is everyone?”

“You tell me,” Dean muttered. Sam hit him. Albus’s mouth twitched upward in amusement. 

“Professor, is this about the attack on the Winchesters?” Harry spoke up first. “Or has something else happened?”

“Something has happened,” Albus replied. “I have become aware that Gellert Grindlewald was found dead a few hours ago in his cell in Numengard Prison.”

“I assume that he is someone important?” Jo looked to Dean for clarification. 

“I dunno,” Dean replied.

“Gellert Grindlewald was a Dark Wizard,” Alastor spoke up. “Not as bad as Voldemort but that’s where he learned all his tricks,” He grumbled. “Dumbledore defeated him in 1945, and locked him up in Numengard, a prison Grindlewald built for his enemies.”

“That’s ironic,” Dean snorted. “Okay, so I guess it’s a good thing he’s dead.” he shrugged. “What’s the issue?”

“Dean has a point. What does his death mean?” Sam asked. The others looked at Albus, waiting for him to speak.

“It is the lead up to his death that is important,” Dumbledore began. “But first, some history is needed.” His eyes turned slightly sad as he prepared to speak. “Unfortunately this has more to do with me than I wish to admit. I made some foolish choices in my youth.” That took a few of the wizards present by surprise. Dumbledore always seemed wise and all-knowing. Logically, they knew it probably wasn’t the reality, but he always came across that way.

“Some of you may know that my father, Percival, was imprisoned in Azkaban when I was very young. What you don’t know is why.” Everyone looked at each other curiously, wondering what this could have to do with why they were brought here today. “At six years old, my sister, Ariana, was approached by three Muggle boys who had seen her practising underage magic, and when she could not show them, they attacked her. My father tracked them down and attacked them out of revenge.” 

Dean looked over at Sam, wondering if he knew about this, but Sam looked as surprised as he was.

“He refused to explain why he had done it and was imprisoned for life for his crimes. My father was afraid Ariana would be committed to St Mungo’s for life, as she would be a serious threat to the Statute of Secrecy. We quickly became aware that Ariana was affected deeply by what had happened. It destroyed her. She couldn’t control her magic. It would burst out of her at random times,” Albus continued. 

“The poor girl,” Mary replied quietly, Molly nodding her head in agreement.

“It’s what’s known as an Obscurus,” Alastor grunted. “It’s a manifestation of the repressed energy of a young witch or wizard. It’s rare, but it happens. It’s fatal.”

“We were never fully sure, Albus replied. “But it is a close comparison.”

“So for us Laypeople; It’s basically like a supernova collapsing in on itself?” Bobby commented.

“Yes,” Albus nodded. “We had to keep her inside, my brother, Aberforth took care of her mostly, along with my mother. Unfortunately, when she was fourteen, there was an accident. Ariana lost control of her magic, and my mother was killed.”

The hunters and wizard’s felt a collective sense of loss for the woman that they had never met. They felt bad for Dumbledore as well. For someone so kind-spirited to have such a horrible upbringing.

“I, unfortunately, was not home at the time,” said Dumbledore regretfully. “It is one of my greatest mistakes. That was when I met Gellert Grindlewald, fresh from his expulsion from Durmstrang. We became fast friends. I quickly became clouded with illusions of grandeur. He claimed it was ’for the Greater Good,’ that wizardkind rise above that of the Muggles. I admit I was lost for a time. I was gifted and brilliant, and wanted glory. Any harm done would be repaid a hundredfold in benefits for wizards. Did I know, truly, what Gellert Grindelwald was? I think I did, but I closed my eyes. If the plans we were making came to fruition, all my dreams would come true. The breaking point was an argument we had in my home one year. Gellert wanted to set off, in search of the thing we are going to discuss today. I was torn, needing to stay home to look after my family. An argument broke out. Ariana became upset at the fighting and duel that resulted. I don’t know who did it, but my sister was killed in the altercation. My brother never truly forgave me for it. I do not blame him.” 

Dean understood why Albus would want to keep this to himself. Hadn’t he basically done the same thing to Sam? Once he found out about the demon blood. Now the seizures?

“Which brings us to our discussion today. As you are all aware, Garrick Ollivander was kidnapped and later found dead earlier this year, and more recently, Mykew Gregorovitch, another wandmaker was found dead also. And as I mentioned, today, Grindlewald met the same fate.”

“What connection does that have with your story, Professor?” Hermione asked. Her eyes were slightly puffy. 

“Ms Granger, it has to do with this,” Albus replied as he pulled out a book and laid it on the table for all to see.

“The Tales of Beedle the Bard?” Tonks looked at Albus incredulously. “Fairytales?”

“Yes, for those who are unaware, mainly our hunter friends; this book contains a story that many thought to be fictional. I thought so myself until I met Grindlewald; The Tale of the Three Brothers. Does anyone know the story?”

“Yeah, Mum read it to us,” Ron replied. “Sir.”

Albus opened the book to the right page and began to read. “‘There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across. However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across it when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure.’”

“‘And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of the three new victims, for travellers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him.’”

“‘So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from a branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother.’”

“‘Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead.’”

“‘And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death. So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.’”

“‘Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way, and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had and admiring Death’s gifts.’”

“‘In due course, the brothers separated, each for his own destination. The first brother travelled on for a week more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible.

“‘That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden upon his bed. The thief took the wand and for good measure, slit the oldest brother’s throat. And so Death took the first brother for his own.’”

“‘Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry, before her untimely death, appeared at once before him. Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered. Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as to truly join her. And so Death took the second brother from his own.’”

“‘But though Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the youngest brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.’”Albus closed the book and looked at everyone else. 

“The three objects referred to in this story; the Resurrection Stone, the Cloak of Invisibility and the Deathstick, or Elder Wand, are known together as the Deathly Hallows. Ownership of all three makes one the Master of Death. This is what Grindlewald was searching for in his youth. I became glamoured with the idea until the death of my sister. I wanted the glory and the power.”

“Sir, you’re saying these objects are real?” Harry asked. 

“This sounds like a load of crap.” Ellen frowned.

“I assure you, it is not,” Albus smiled, understanding her viewpoint. “And Harry, you in fact are in possession of one right now.”

“What?” Harry’s eyes widened. 

“Your Invisibility Cloak,” Albus told him. “I was in possession of it the night your parents died, as I told you in your first year. The reason was because I wished to examine it, to see if it was the genuine Hallow. It was, but it belonged to you. Invisibility Cloaks are common, but the spellwork fades after a time. Yours has been handed down in the Potter family, father to son, since the time of Ignotus Peverell, the third brother in this story.”

“What…” Harry replied, shocked. “H-how…. I’m a-”

“A direct descendent? Yes. I could not keep something that rightly belongs to you,” Albus smiled. “But it is not the only Hallow I have found.” He reached into his robes and pulled out his wand. He presented it to the others. To the hunters, it looked like any old ordinary wand. There seemed to be nothing special about it. “This is the Elder Wand. By the time I came into possession of it, I was no longer fascinated by the Hallows. From what I have found, Gregorovitch became the owner at one point and loudly boasted of that fact. Grindlewald stole it from him in the dead of night. And in 1945, I won the wand after his defeat. I have been the master ever since. I believe Voldemort does not wish to be Master of Death, so he has no interest in the other Hallows, but he wants the Elder Wand, as evident by the deaths he has left in his wake.” 

“So he wants the wand,” Sam said. “What do we do?” John sat up and spoke for the first time that night. “Destroy it. That seems to be the sure-fire way to do it.”

“I have tried,” Albus replied. “The wand is able to repair itself. I have owned this wand for almost seventy years now, and I am still discovering its abilities.” 

Seventy, how old is this guy? John thought.

“That does leave the question of what to do about the wand,” Albus said.

The discussion led on for hours into the night. Mary and Molly kept everyone fed as they discussed what to do. It was almost midnight when they decided to call it a night. 

“It’s getting late….” Remus murmured. 

“Yeah, we have got to get back,” Dean agreed. “We’ve got a class first thing.” Molly looked up, “Surely it’s too late to leave, and so many of us at one time.”

“We’ll leave in groups,” Albus advised.

They agreed and began to leave in small groups. The brothers were about to leave with their family when Molly rushed up to them.

“Wait, please, before you go,” Molly began. Arthur was at her side. “We wanted to offer for you all to come for Easter.” 

“We’d love to, but we were planning to get married over Easter,” Dean explained. “Free time and all.”

“We can change the date, Dean.” Jo smiled. “It seems like a good idea.”

“Are you sure?” Dean asked her.

“Nonsense!” Molly exclaimed. 

“We have the space,” Arthur added. “You could get married here.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose Molly…” Dean looked at Jo.

“Yeah, I mean you barely know us. We wouldn’t want to put you out.” Jo continued.

“You are all doing a great sacrifice to help us with the war,” Molly replied. “It’s the least we can do.”

Fleur stepped up behind her future in-laws. “Please come, it would be an honour.”

“We’ll think about it Molly,” Dean smiled. Jo nudged him in the side. “Oh, ah. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Okay dears,” Molly smiled kindly. “Let us know.”

“We will.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 40

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, 11 ^th March 2012

Things had become more tense over the course of the week following the Order meeting. The knowledge that Voldemort could be after an all-powerful wand that was in Albus’s possession, was chilling. It meant that Voldemort had a beeline for the castle in his mind, not only for control but now for the Elder Wand as well. 

The Wizarding World was becoming even more dangerous as each day passed. The hunters and wizards heard of more and more attacks, people going missing, families murdered in their beds. It was horrible to hear about it every day. On more than one occasion John had suggested taking the fight to Voldemort, but there were too many pieces involved, too many lives at stake. Though, despite not being magical themselves, the hunters started to love their new community and felt like they were a part of it now. They considered the Wizards to be their friends. These people were good and the boys wanted to defeat this magical tyrant.  They would help the wizards in any way they could. Everything was just getting more complicated and confusing. Like a high stakes chess match, or in Dean’s case, a high stakes poker game.

There was an edge of positivity, as Dean and Jo spoke of their upcoming wedding. They discussed Molly and Arthur’s offer of having the wedding at their home and contacted them via owl post a few days later. They accepted and almost immediately, Mary, Ellen, and Molly began planning.

Another piece of light in the bleak future when Katie Bell finally returned to school after an extended break. She told Sam and Dean that she could have returned in January, but it took almost three months of persuasion before her parents allowed her to return. They welcomed her back with a warm smile as she went to catch up with her fellow Gryffindors. 

“You know, I don’t blame the parents,” Dean said as he pointed his wand at a target, causing it to levitate. They were in the Quidditch Pitch again, ready for another training class.

“Yeah, remember Molly last week?” Sam frowned. “She’s been looking so stressed recently.”

“She just wants her kids safe,” Mary sighed. “I understand how she feels.”

“I know,” Sam replied as he pulled more objects out of the box. “The sooner we get this Voldemort guy dead, the better.”

“You’re telling  me.” Dean scowled. 

“I understand what you guys are saying, but you’ve got to start seeing these kids as more than just kids.” John walked up to them and crossed his arms. “If you don’t prepare them for war, there’s no telling what could happen to them. And before you say anything, I know that’s what you’re trying to do. But these kids need to know how to defend themselves. There should be no hesitation, the other side won’t show them mercy because they’re children.” Two months ago, a statement like that from John would have caused an argument or a fight, maybe both. But now it was different. Scores and grudges were settled now.

“I know Dad,” Dean replied. 

“They look terrified….” Mary bit her lip as the students filed back onto the Pitch in their gym clothes. “Maybe they could use a bit of bolstering from their teachers?”

Dean nodded. They walked towards the group of Slytherin and Gryffindor students. “So guys, ready for some more target practice?”

Harry, Hermione, and Ron nodded, looking determined. They stood out in a group of tense kids, Neville looked like he wanted to be brave and determined but still had a little bit of trepidation in his eyes. 

“C’mon guys, it’ll be fun, Dean smiled, trying to ease their worries

⸸

Jessica Moore was lost, in utter darkness, the only thing that she could remember was Sam. He kept her company when she was lonely, held her hand when she was scared. He reassured her that everything was going to be alright, that he would protect her. But then he left, his brother came to pick him up. Now, she was all alone, surrounded by children in long dark robes talking loudly amongst themselves.  She looked around, trying to recognize anything familiar about this strange place. She had a good guess as to where she was but nothing looked the way she had remembered it.

“Where am I?” She asked out loud to anyone who could hear her. None of the children bothered with her. They barely paid her any mind, milling about in the halls.  She started walking about the halls herself. Maybe somewhere, someone would recognize her, the teachers at least. How long ago had it been?  Surely someone would recognize her. Why else would she be sent here? She continued roaming the halls. Eventually, she seemed to come to a Hall of some sort. She walked down the large marble staircase and glanced at four large hourglasses, a red one filled with rubies, a green filled with emeralds, a blue with sapphires and a yellow filled with topaz gems. There were crests at the top of each, a lion, a snake, an eagle, and a badger respectively. Was she at… Hogwarts? She recalled the name dimly from her memory.

But how did she get here of all places? She didn’t remember much before waking up in an old room, a classroom. She had been minding her own business. Her friend had knocked, and all of a sudden, she knew she was dead. Was she really dead, or just passed out? Panic set in quickly. She needed to find someone she knew, and she had a feeling that he was here, wherever here was, if not Hogwarts. She turned to the right and heard a commotion of voices behind a huge mahogany door. Jessica walked towards it, her heart beginning to race. 

She opened the large doors, revealing four long tables. Throngs of teenagers, ranging from eleven to seventeen sat at them, talking loudly and some waving wands. She walked down the aisle, watching as the teens turned to look, quietening down slightly. 

Meanwhile, Dean laughed at the hunter’s table.

“Yeah, Sam lost his shoe. He sounded like a kicked puppy,” he chuckled. His little brother glared at him. 

“Says the guy who screamed at the sight of a cat!” he shot back. Dean narrowed his green eyes.

“I caught the ghost sickness! It wasn’t my fault!” he said, affronted.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Bobby teased. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Dean scowled, remembering Bobby saying the same thing when Bobby and Sam were making fun of him beside the Impala. Oh!

“Crap, I forgot, I gotta get something outta the Impala for class. Comin’?” he asked.

“Sure,” Sam shrugged.

“I swear I’m gonna kick your ass for that,” Dean scowled as Sam got up.

“Nah,” Sam shrugged. “Cause you love me too much.”  Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah whatever Sasquatch.” They turned together to walk out of the Hall, but stopped, eyes widening.
“Holy fuck…” Dean muttered.

Sam halted, his throat closing at once. His heart seemed to stop in his chest, breath hitching. His parted lips trembled, and he fought for his vocal cords to work. He could have sworn he was dreaming. He saw a woman in front of him, her soft pastel blue eyes filling with tears. The blonde waves of hair caressed her bare shoulders, the tanned skin visible. She was wearing a long white nightgown that hung past her knees.

“Jess,” Sam breathed. Jessica Moore’s eyes filled with renewed tears as she broke into a run, her bare feet slapping against the marble floor. Sam’s arms widened, curling around her body as she flung herself into his arms. Sam’s eyes filled with tears and spilt over as he buried his face into her golden hair. Dean saw the small jerky movements of his shoulders and smiled sadly. He stepped back a little. I don’t know what in the hell is going on, but Sam needs this, he thought to himself. Mary and the other hunters stood up to see what was wrong and Dean backed off to fill them in on what was happening. 

“Sammy,” Jessica sobbed. He pulled back, looking back at her. He crashed his lips to hers, kissing her for the first time in over six years. In the back of her mind, Jessica noted that Sam looked different. His fringe was gone, hair longer than before. He looked older, and had started growing some stubble.

“Sam, I don’t know what happened,” Jess whispered. “Brady…. He knocked. He was strange. Then his eyes… they turned black!” she cried. “Then it was just fire…” Sam pulled her tight. 

“You’re fine,” Sam soothed gently. “I love you Jess.” Jess pulled away, looking to the side.

“Dean?” she questioned.

“Jessica,” Dean smiled, pulling his brother’s girlfriend in for a hug. Jessica’s mind was reeling. She remembered the last time she saw Sam. Meeting Dean and when he told Sam their dad was missing. Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days. 

“I was dead, wasn’t I?” she whispered. Sam nodded sadly. Jessica’s breath hitched.

“H-how long?” she whispered.

“Over six years,” Sam told her sadly. She paled.

“So much has happened,” she whispered in shock. “Did you ever find your father?” she asked. 

“See for yourself,” Dean said as they turned and began to walk to the hunter’s table.

“How…?”

“We’ll explain later.” Sam smiled, “I want to introduce you to some people.”

The chatter in the room resumed, the students were used to this kind of thing, Dean supposed as he followed behind Sam and Jess.

“Mom, this is Jessica Moore, my girlfriend.” Sam proudly announced through his tears. 

“Mom…?” Jess asked.

“Hey Jessica,” Mary smiled, touched, knowing how freaked out Jessica must be feeling at the minute. She recalled Dean filling her in when she’d just come back. “I was brought back too. I know this must be hard”

“And this is our Dad, John,” Sam said.

“It’s good to meet you.” John smiled as he shook Jess’s hand. 

“It’s nice to meet the both of you too.” Jess smiled slightly, uncomfortable at the hundreds of curious eyes watching them.

“We should go somewhere private,” John advised. “Too many wandering eyes and wayward ears…” He looked around suspiciously.

“You’re right,” Sam nodded and looked at Jessica. “Come with me?”

“Sure, Sam.” Jessica nodded. 

Together, everyone walked to an unused classroom. Dean cast Muffliato on the room before everyone sat down. It took a while, but over the next few hours, the hunters explained everything about their lives, the monsters, and demons. Jessica couldn’t get her head around it. Her boyfriend hunted demons and ghosts for a living. What was she supposed to make of that? She didn’t realize that she only knew half of who Sam Winchester was. Sure, she was a little pissed that he hadn’t told her, but she knew why. She could’ve gotten hurt, or worse. Which was exactly what happened.

Sam slipped his hands around Jessica’s shoulders as she sat beside him.

“Demon hunter, huh?” she said, looking up at her boyfriend. Sam smiled a little and let out a small huff of amusement.

“Yeah, as we told you, Dad raised us in it,” he told her. He watched as her eyes looked down into her lap.

“You know you could have told me,” she said softly.

“I couldn’t Jess,” Sam replied with a sigh. “I couldn’t put you in that danger.” 

“I still got killed for it anyway…” Jess reminded him with a grim smile. “And who says I can’t protect myself?” She added indignantly.

“What does that mean?” Sam looked at her with a smirk.

“Nothing.” She turned away from him, so he couldn’t see her face. “So, you fight monsters right?”

“Yea, some part-time job.” Sam sighed, she still hadn’t turned back around, it was starting to bother him. 

“I thought you said you didn’t have much to do with your Dad or brother any more?” She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I mean you never talked about them.”

“Well, I…” He was trying to find a way to explain it. “It’s hard to explain. I kinda have a love/hate thing goin’ on with my dad. And Dean, well, you met him.”
Jessica smiled. “Yea, your brother sure is a character.”

They sat in silence for a while, contemplating everything that was said between them. A few students walked by and greeted Sam with smiles and waves.

“So you are a hunter, and you hunted witches, yet you are teaching at a school for witches and wizards?” Jessica raised her eyebrows and giggled.

“Uh, yeah…” Sam laughed with her, it did sound funny when it was put that way. “It sounds a bit hypocritical, but you know it’s ah… complicated.”

They walked toward what Jessica learned was the staff quarters. Jo and Mary told her she could use some of their clothes, as walking around in a white dress and bare feet was starting to weird out the students. She picked out some jeans, hiking boots, and an old rock band t-shirt. 

They then left the Hogwarts grounds and went to Hogsmeade, going to the Hog’s Head Inn. They needed somewhere quiet to talk, and the rundown pub was the perfect place. Sam brought them some Butterbeer, and they sat down. Jessica looked like she was having an internal dilemma. She looked like she wanted to say something to him, but then changed her mind and started talking about something else. 

“Jess, are you sure everything is OK?” Sam finally broke and asked her.

She paused for a few seconds, staring off into space. “I haven’t been completely honest with you Sam.” She said without looking at him. Her voice sounded like a child’s when they knew they had done something wrong and were waiting for punishment.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked worriedly. 

Instead of answering him, she leaned over and pulled a long wooden stick out of her boot and placed it on the table. When she got into Sam’s room to change, she was surprised to find her wand on the bedside table.

“I’m a witch.” She said simply. Sam’s eyes widened almost comically. “Surprise?”

“You-” he said, his mouth opened wide. Jessica picked up the almost golden coloured wand and Sam watched as sparks flew from its tip.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sam said finally, taking her hand.

“The same reason you didn’t tell me about hunting. I didn’t know how you would react,” Jessica told him. “And if I knew at the time you were a hunter that would make things more difficult.”

“So how did you get started?” Sam was still trying to piece this all together in his mind.

“My ’powers’ didn’t come in till I was 11. Then I found out that my mom was a witch, my dad didn’t know either. I went to Ilvermorny; it’s kind of like Hogwarts, but it’s the American Wizarding school. It’s the same school my mom went to. I went there for 7 years, after I finished my seventh year they gave me the option of staying on and selecting a major, like Hexes, Transmutation, or Potions or leave to go live my own life. I chose to go to Stanford. I mean being a witch is great, but I just wanted to be normal, like you.” She smiled a little. “My mom wasn’t very happy with it, but she agreed. She always told me to watch out for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Didn’t really make sense at the time but now...”

“How did you know about him?”

“Everyone in the Wizarding World knows about him. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was a big threat, even in the States. Even though many believed he was gone for good, a few of us thought he would come back.”

Sam sat there in total shock. His girlfriend was a witch! How could he not have noticed? 

“The night I was killed I was going to tell you that I was a witch. My mom had called me and told me that there was a surge in Death Eater activity in England. I was going to go back to Ilvermorny to help teach at the school, like a substitute, while a few of the teachers went to investigate.”

“Something as huge as Voldemort” Jessica flinched a little. “And we didn’t know about it?” Sam was wondering why he and Dean hadn’t heard of him before now.

“Well, it’s been said that No-Majes aren’t very bright.” She nudged him playfully.

“Very funny,” Sam scowled playfully, and he kissed her on the lips. “I understand. I can’t say much. I hid hunting from you.”

“I guess we’re even,” Jess quipped. Sam laughed.

“I love you, Jess.” Just then there was a peck at the window. Sam turned his head to see his owl, Jess, peering in through the glass. She had a note attached to her leg, she ruffled her feathers happily as he came to open the window.

“Is that your owl?” Jessica asked. 

“Yeah, she is,” Sam replied. A faint blush coloured his cheeks and he laughed quietly. “About that, we may have a little problem.”

“Oi, no owls allowed in here.” The barkeep told them as he saw Sam bring the owl in.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know. I’ll take her outside.” Sam ducked his head in apology.  Both Jess and Sam got to their feet and walked outside. Jess hooted almost angrily as if she were put out by the barkeep kicking them out.

“It’s okay Jess, I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to be in there. I’m sorry.” Sam rubbed the owl’s head affectionately. 

“What?” Jessica asked, looking at her boyfriend and the owl. Sam’s cheeks went pink again.

“Yeah, that was the problem I mentioned. I sorta named her after you.” Sam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Surprise?” The owl stared at her human counterpart with a tilt of her head.

“That’s really sweet Sam, but what do we do now?” Jessica asked, a little amused as she rubbed the owl’s head.

“Well, she already knows her name….” Sam frowned. He looked a little sheepish. “I’m not sure what to do now,” he smirked, and opened the note, seeing it was from Dean.

Yo, Sasquatch, 

We need you back here ASAP,

Your favourite brother

“He had to send her for that…?” Sam rolled his eyes.“Could’ve just called me,” he grumbled. Thinking about it now, Dean had been spending more time with their owl than Sam had been lately. Even going as far as to clean out her perch in the Owlery. “Maybe she could be Dean’s owl?” Jess hooted quietly, turning away. “Oh come on, don’t be like that.” He shook his arm a bit to get her to turn back to him. “You’ll still be our favourite owl.”

Jessica had to hold back her laughter.

“Having a bad breakup there Sam?” she asked.

“Apparently,” Sam muttered as he wrote back a reply and tucked the letter into the string around her leg. “If you take this back to Dean I’ll give you three biscuits tomorrow.” He grinned at the owl. She hooted quietly and flew off towards the castle.

“So, where does this leave us?” Jessica asked quietly as they began walking back to the castle. “I mean, if you dated someone else while I was… you know…. I wouldn’t blame you.” 

“There were a few brief flings,” Sam admitted. “But nothing long term since you…” Sam didn’t want to admit the multiple relationships he had with women that had ended badly. Sarah, Madison… Hell, even Ruby… “I mean if you would rather see other people…” She pulled him to a stop, looking him directly in the eye. 

“No, I don’t want to see anyone else.” 

Sam smiled. “We’ll take it slow then?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean, we’ve found out a lot about each other,” Jess smiled. “But I don’t want to throw it away. Can we just start over?”

Sam looked at her sceptically, a slow smile spreading across his face before extending his hand. 

“Hi, I haven’t seen you around these parts. Are you new?”

“You missed tipping your hat,” Jess giggled and shook his hand. “You’d look like Walker Texas Ranger,” she laughed. 

“Well, thank you, Ma’am.” He gave her a goofy grin. “Are you heading my way?”
“I am,” Jess linked her arm with his. “Sir, you could pull off the Merlin hat too, you know.”

They both headed back to the castle, cackling every now and then. And the big emergency Dean needed them for? Turns out he wanted to show off his pack of Exploding Snap, much to Sam’s exasperation.

Chapter Text

Chapter 41

The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, England, 26 ^th March 2012

“Arthur, I swear to Merlin, if you are in that kitchen and if you are touching that turkey, I’m going to cook you for dinner!” Molly’s voice carried through the house as Ron appeared in the fireplace. It was early afternoon in the little kitchen at the Burrow.

“Mum’s in a fine mood. What did you do to her?” Ron smirked as he saw his father with a piece of turkey in his mouth.

“Don’t tell your mother,” Arthur mumbled between bites as he used his wand to cast a charm on the turkey resting in the pan to replace the bites he had taken. 

“Oh for Heaven’s sake,” Molly muttered as she came in. “Do I have to put your wand in time out, dear?” She asked with an innocent smile. “And you wonder where Fred and George get it from.”

Fred and George appeared behind Molly at that moment. She almost dropped the tray of carrots she was holding.

“Our ears were burning,” they chorused.

“I swear, where is my wooden spoon….” Molly grumbled as she set the carrots down.

“That’s it, none of you get any of this food until the attic is cleaned.”

“I didn’t do anything Mum!” Ron whined. “I literally just stepped out of the fireplace.” 

“And you’ve gotten soot all over the floor.” Molly pointed to the floor. “So you’d better start cleaning.” Ron pointed his wand at the soot and muttered “Tergeo.” The soot siphoned up into his wand, vanishing. He grinned victoriously.

Molly turned on the twins and her husband. “As for you three, no magic. Now get out of my kitchen. Ronald you can stay.” 

“What’s wrong with Mum?” Fred muttered to his father as they left the room. 

“Are you alright Mum?” Ron asked as he tucked his wand back into his jeans pocket. “I mean I know Fred and George get on your nerves but-” 

“I’m quite alright dear.” She interrupted him, hugging him, as Harry, Hermione, and Ginny entered.

Hermione smiled as she sniffed the air. “Dinner smells delicious, Mrs Weasley.”

“Thank you, dear,” Molly smiled and pulled Hermione and then Harry in for a hug. “How are you? Keeping up with your studies?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Harry smiled.

“I passed my Apparition test last week,” Hermione smiled. Unfortunately, Ron had failed, having come of age at the start of the month, and Harry was not yet seventeen, so he was not allowed to take the exam. 

“Congratulations dear!” Molly pulled her in for another bone-crushing hug.

Hermione looked to Ron, a silent plea for help in her eyes. “Uh, Mum…?” He tapped his mother on the shoulder. “You’re crushing her.”

“Oh, sorry!” Molly let go of Hermione, her face turning as red as her hair as tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m just so happy for you dear.” 

“It’s okay,” she smiled.

Ginny pulled on an apron. “Can I help you, Mum?” 

“Can you grab the potatoes, Ginny?” Molly asked. 

“Sure Mum.” Ginny smiled as she went out back to the garden. Harry followed after her, saying that he wanted to help her with the gnomes. The sun was shining brightly in the small garden just off to the side of the Burrow.

“It’s nice out today,” Ginny noted as she started gathering the potatoes. She had been having a pretty crappy year so far. She’d had worse of course. Her relationship with Dean Thomas had ended rather bitterly last month due to a row over his protectiveness. Ginny thought of herself as an independent woman. She didn’t need someone hovering over her like that. The others knew of course, but they were quiet about it. Ginny assured them that the break-up was bound to happen, as they just didn’t work.

“Huh?” Harry mumbled, he had been distracted by the way her hair seemed to shimmer as bright as a flame in the sunlight. “Oh yea, nice out. I heard you got detention last week for hexing Shelby. Maybe Fred and George are rubbing off on you.” He suggested with a small huff of amusement.

“So what if they are?” She asked in an annoyed tone. Remembering what the girl had said to earn a hex. ’You’re just interested in him because he’s the chosen one, get in line sister. Everyone knows you faked all that stuff in your second year to get his attention.’ “That bitch Shelby deserved it,” Ginny grumbled. “She called me a liar.” 

“About what?” Harry asked.

“It’s nothing,” Ginny replied. “Nothing I can’t handle anyway.”

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Harry held his hands up defensively. He looked back toward the house to see if he could see Mrs Weasley, Ron, or Hermione from where they sat picking potatoes. He faintly heard the sound of pots and pans getting cleaned, and then further off he could hear the disgruntled twins complaining about Ron getting them in trouble. For the most part, it was practically as if they were alone, but with the added thrill of excitement of being caught at any moment.

“Ginny, can we talk?” Harry asked.

“We’re talking right now Harry.” She reminded him with a smirk, her brilliant blue eyes feeling like they were looking directly into his soul. She stared at him for a long moment in thought, before she pressed her lips to his. Harry’s eyes widened in shock, but he returned the kiss. She dropped the potatoes she was holding and wrapped her arms around his neck. When they eventually parted, Harry looked at her with bemused eyes. 

“Well, you weren’t gonna initiate it,” Ginny laughed.

“You’re right.” Harry’s ears turned pink. “Sorry… I was nervous.”

“I can tell,” said Ginny dryly as she wiped sweat off his brow, finger brushing over the scar on his forehead. The sound of tutting reached their ears. They turned and saw George, grinning from ear to ear.

“Afternoon,” he quipped, amused, giving Ginny and Harry the impression that he’d seen everything.

“Shove off George,” Ginny muttered. George held his hands up in surrender.

“Just here to say the hunters will be here soon.” His grin turned saucy. “Figured you’d rather me catch you than Mum, or worse Ron.” 

Harry and Ginny went back inside with the potatoes.

“I was wondering what was taking you all so long.” Molly smiled as they handed her the potatoes. “Were the gnomes in the patch again?”

“Something was…” George muttered under his breath and Ginny stepped on his foot, causing him to yelp in pain.

“Is the attic cleaned out yet?” Molly turned on him, reminding him of the task she assigned to him.

“We’re almost done, but Fred sent me down here for a snack. We were getting hungry and wondered what was taking so long.” 

“Okay dear, go grab something,” Molly told him. “Once your father is done, tell him to cast the charm for the extra rooms.” 

“Will do, Mum,” George nodded. He grabbed some food and went back upstairs

“I think it’s nice of you to offer your home to the hunters Mrs Weasley,” Hermione commented as she looked for something to do to help. “It will be nice to have something to celebrate.”

“I thought so too,” Molly smiled. “With so much tragedy happening, we need something bright and positive. I’ve been talking with Mary and Ellen, organizing some things. I thought Ellen was going to be a harsh woman, but she’s really kind. I was pleasantly surprised.”

“Yeah, she’s quite nice,” Harry agreed. “But don’t cross her.”

“Just like you Mum.” Ron smiled. Molly laughed a little.

“I just hope they like it…” Molly replied with a little apprehension in her voice. “I want them to be comfortable here.”

“They will be,” Hermione assured.

Molly nodded as she bustled about the kitchen. The fireplace sprang to life again revealing Bill and Fleur. Bill was dressed in a simple white shirt and emerald green vest that complemented Fleur perfectly. She looked like spring personified, complete with enchanted butterflies that flitted around her skirts. 

“Oh, Bill!” Molly smiled, going to kiss her son’s cheek. 

“Hey Mum,” Bill returned the hug Molly gave.

“Suffocating again, Mum.” Ron reminded her with a small smile.

“How are things going with Easter plans?” Bill asked.

“Oh you know, busy little beavers. I had your father make sure your rooms were in order. We’ll be having a few extra guests this year with the Winchester professors and their family coming over. Oh, that reminds me, Harry? Did Sirius say he could make it?”

“Yeah, he said he’s all for a party,” Harry laughed.

“I bet he’s a regular party animal.” Ron chortled. 

“He is. He and your father used to love a party,” Molly smiled a little as she looked at Harry. 

At that moment, the fire roared to life with green flames. Bill and Fleur stepped out of the way to let Charlie through, his clothes were rumpled and soot-covered his face, part of his hair that was pulled back in a low ponytail was smoking slightly as if it had caught on fire. 

“Hey, guys.” Charlie grinned. 

“You are a mess, Charlie…” Bill frowned at his brother’s appearance.

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?” Charlie smirked at his brother. “Just because I don’t have a wife to coddle me into wearing fancy clothes… No offence Fleur.”

“It is okay Charlie,” Fleur smiled. She pulled out her wand and pointed it at Charlie, the spell cleaned his face and mended his clothes.

“Thanks, Sis.” He grinned and turned to go up the stairs. Bill, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all had to hold back their laughter when he turned because there was a baby blue bow tied to his ponytail. Fleur smiled triumphantly.

The fire roared to life once again. One after another the room began to fill with each of the hunters from Hogwarts, first was Dean and Jo, followed by Sam and a young woman Molly had yet to meet. Finally, Ellen, Mary, John, and Bobby were last.

“Welcome! Welcome everyone,” Molly smiled, as she looked at the group. Arthur came running down the stairs, his bow tie askew and hair messy.

“Hey Molly,” Dean smiled. “Thanks for having us guys.”

“It’s no problem,” Arthur assured. Molly pointed to her neck, and he looked down, adjusting his bow tie. “I hope you’re ready for supper. It’s delicious.” He muttered an apology at Molly’s glare. 

“Sure,” Dean grinned.

“You’d never deny food,” Sam laughed.

“If it were up to you Sammy, I’d die of rabbit food,” Dean rolled his eyes. Sam held his hands up defensively and mumbled under his breath. 

The rest of the Weasley family came downstairs. There was a knock at the door and Ron opened it to reveal Tonks, Remus and Sirius who had all travelled together. 

“Sirius!” Harry grinned and went to hug his Godfather.

“’Ello pup.” Sirius grinned. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” Harry smiled. 

“Quite a few more people here than last year Molly…” Remus murmured. 

“The more, the merrier,” Molly grinned.

“It’s alright Remus, their friends,” Tonks whispered in his ear. 

“So who is this lovely lady Sam?” Molly asked. 

“This is Jessica,” Sam introduced. He went around the room and introduced her to everyone.

“She and I dated in college. She was brought back to … like the others. Just last week.” Sam explained.

“Hello.” She smiled at them. Arthur put down his fork and studied the girl quietly. “I recognize you… Jessica Moore? From Ilvermorny?” 

“Yes,” Jessica smiled, blushing. 

“You were supposed to be on the teacher’s roster for this year, but you were reported missing. We all thought…. Well, that doesn’t matter now.” Arthur smiled. Jessica nodded.

The knowledge of Jessica being magical surprised everyone. Both she and Sam were still coming to terms with how different each other were from what they knew. They both realized that it didn’t matter as much as they thought it would. Their love started to rekindle almost instantly, like she had never died. Dean was thrilled for his brother. In truth, he felt a little bad since he and Jo had gotten engaged because he knew Sam had no one. Not that Sam needed anyone to be happy, but Dean just wanted his little brother to have everything. It was times like this that he felt like more of a parent than a brother to him. 

Everyone took their places at the table. Soon Jess was treated like another member of the strange extended family. “

“This turkey is amazing,” Dean complimented. “What’s in it that makes it taste so good?” His voice turned to a mutter. “It’s like crack…”

“I’m sorry?” Molly looked at him confused. “I’m not familiar with that herb….”
Jo held back a laugh.

“It’s nothing Molly,” Sam said quickly. Ellen nudged Jo in the ribs and gave her a disapproving look. John smacked Dean on the back of the head. “Ow….”

“How is the joke shop going?” Sam asked the twins.

“Sales are kind of in the toilet right now.” Fred frowned, “But it’s to be expected.”

“Diagon Alley is deserted,” George agreed. “Everyone is scared to go out. It’s dangerous out there.”

“Yeah, hopefully, we can stop Voldemort from getting the wand,” Dean agreed. 

“Could we please change the subject?” Molly asked, looking a little nervous. “No Order business…”

“Sure thing Molly, I’m sorry.” Dean nodded sympathetically.

“It’s okay dear,” Molly smiled, just wanting to not hear about the terrible things happening in the war for a while. Fleur saw this as an opportunity to speak to Jo. “Are you excited about the wedding?”  

“Yeah,” Jo smiled back. “Hoping to keep this one in line.” She nudged Dean with her elbow.

“Hey, you’re just as bad as me…” Dean grumbled. 

“That’s true,” Jo laughed.

“Have you discussed colours and dresses?” 

“Uh… not really.” Jo wrinkled her nose up. “I’m not really a girly girl.” 

“Oh my dear, we should get you one,” Molly fussed.

“You should get a dress babe.” Dean smiled at her. “When are you gonna have a chance to  dress up again?” 

“Are you saying my jeans and t-shirts aren’t doin’ it for you any more Winchester?”

“Don’t you answer that Dean Winchester,” Ellen warned. “Joanna Beth, be polite. ”

Jo and Dean smiled at each other. 

“I would be more than happy to help you design a gown.” Fleur smiled warmly.

“I can’t let you go to that trouble,” Jo replied.

“Nonsense dear Everyone deserves a beautiful wedding dress,” Molly said, and it seemed disagreeing wasn’t an option.

“If you’re sure.” Jo smiled. 

“We’d be happy to pay of course.” Ellen offered. “Y’all are already doing so much.”

“Consider it a gift from Bill and me.” Fleur touched her husband’s hand with a warm smile.

“Then it’s settled,” Molly smiled. 

“You’ve given Molly the best gift. She loves planning.” Arthur smiled.

“We have everything sorted for the wedding,” Molly smiled. “Just the dress robes and dress now for the happy couple.”

“Oh, I get dress robes too?” Dean looked up in surprise. “I thought I would just get one of my tuxes out of Baby….” 

“It’s traditional,” Molly smiled. “They are very similar to your Muggle suits. Or so Arthur tells me.”

“I mean, sure,” Dean shrugged. “Why not?”

“Unless you would like to have a traditional Muggle wedding.” Arthur smiled, internally begging them to agree, so he could have a front-row seat to study a Muggle ceremony and make comparisons. He was mentally crossing his fingers. “They may want to stick to their own traditions, Molly dear.”

“What do you think Jo?” Dean asked.

“It’s a good idea,” Jo smiled. “It sounds fun.” Her grin turned sarcastic. “I’ve always wanted to see you in dress robes.”

“You’re hilarious.” Dean rolled his eyes and laughed.

The rest of the meal passed with cheerful chatter and laughter. The Order members left and went to their respective houses. Dean was persuaded to go with Jo to find dress robes. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much convincing. Soon Ellen, John, Jo, Dean, Molly, and Fleur got ready to leave for Diagon Alley. They assured the other members of the Order they would be safe.