Chapter Text
Bobby Singer has suffered a lot of loss in his life. He always thought his most painful hardship would be losing the love of his life, twice. His wife’s possession, subsequent death, resurrection, and final demise had in no way prepared him for what the loss of a child was like, let alone multiple children. Watching his remaining boys deal with the loss as well has almost been even more painful than the death of three of the Winchester siblings.
In the six months since Azalea started the pattern of deaths, he has seen a lot of change in his oldest. Dean has grown into himself as a father, a brother, a man. Watching Bobby’s boy interact with his own boys has made him feel similar to the Grinch that stole Christmas, his heart swelling three sizes, but with pride rather than holiday cheer. He knows how much the losses of Lea, Adam, and Sam weigh on Dean. The fact that the man still gets up every morning and pushes forward for the benefit of Harry and Ben makes him so proud that some days he thinks he might burst.
Their return to normal living had been rough, especially considering that they weren’t quite sure what constituted as ‘normal’ anymore. He and Dean are hunters, they live to hunt down and deal with supernatural beings. Harry is a wizard, he wields a wand in the same defensive manner that Bobby would a gun, while still using it to wash dishes and mop the floors. Not evening mentioning the snowy white owl that roosts in the boy’s room. Then, there’s Ben. Benjamin Braeden-Winchester is a normal ten year old boy, or at least he was before angels murdered his mother and kidnapped him in an attempt to lure his father into agreeing to be a vessel for the archangel, Michael.
Needless to say, settling into a routine had been a long process with several hiccups. The first of which had been enrolling the younger boys in school. Ben had been happy to join the sixth grade class of Sioux Falls Middle School. Harry had unfortunately not felt the same toward becoming a junior at Sioux Falls High.
“No.”
“You have to go, Harry. You need to finish school. Get your diploma,” Dean sighed, putting his head in his hands as his elbows rested on the table.
“I am a wizard. I do magic. I don’t need to attend muggle school,” Harry argued adamantly, arms crossed over his chest as he sat in the seat across the kitchen table from Dean. Empty plates sat in front of them both. Bobby and Ben sat across from one another as well, watching the brothers argue. Ben looked between his father and uncle with wide eyes, as if watching a tennis match. When Bobby caught the boy’s eye, he nodded toward the living room. The kid had needed no further prompting to shoot out of the kitchen and away from the tense conversation taking place there. Bobby could hear the old gaming system he’d bought when Dean was a teenager booting up from his own seat. He took his own escape in the form of gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink. He began to wash the tableware as the brothers continued their argument.
“You do need to attend school. You need an education. Just because magic school didn’t work out, doesn’t mean you should give up your education altogether!”
The fight had gone on in the same vein for several minutes, each Winchester repeating their points back and forth until Harry had let out a huff and collapsed back in his kitchen chair, looking away.
Finally, “They’ll think I’m stupid.”
“What?” Dean asked incredulously.
“I haven’t attended a mundane school since I was Ben’s age,” Harry muttered, still not meeting Dean’s eyes. “They’ll think I’m stupid.”
“You are not stupid.”
Harry glanced up and Bobby busied himself with the dishes once more so he would appear to have been eavesdropping. Dean’s expression was thunderous.
“I got a G.E.D. I didn’t finish traditional high school. Am I stupid?” He asked.
“Of course not!” Harry answered immediately, his hair sparking with static, the telltale sign his magic was close to the surface.
“You aren’t either,” Dean continued, voice slightly softer, “You may be a little behind the other kids, but they wouldn’t be able to name any of the magic stuff you know. We can work on catching you up on math and everything. Just because you learned different things doesn’t make you stupid.”
Harry stared at Dean for almost a full minute without a response. When Bobby had chanced a glance over his shoulder, he had seen the last of Harry’s staticky hair settle flat on his head once more as the teen gave a short nod.
“Fine.”
Dean had let out a sigh of relief, leaned back in his chair with a triumphant expression.
“But, I get to go hunting with you.”
“Wait a minute-”
In the end, Ben went to middle school, Harry went to high school, and Dean gained a weekend hunting partner, but only on lower-level cases.
There had been one other issue when registering Harry for American high school. Well, maybe one isn’t exactly correct. Bobby is sure the boy received no less than twenty-five letters from his magical school begging him to come back before Dean threatened to use the school owls for target practice. There had been no need, as Harry’s own owl had taken to dive-bombing the other birds upon their arrival. The house had been awoken early in the morning several times to owl screeches as Hedwig attempted homicide on her feathered brethren.
Unlike Dean, Bobby had gotten the chance to practice his shooting. Particularly when a certain elderly wizard had appeared in their front yard. Albus Dumbledore had arrived with a blackened, almost rotting hand and a letter dictating what magical supplies Harry would need for the school year. The wizard had left with a bullet lodged in his shoulder. Bobby had learnt from his mistakes and didn’t let the headmaster get a word out before pulling the trigger.
Other than Harry’s communication with his friends, that had been the last they had heard from the Wizarding World. Harry started his junior year, made a few friends, went on a few hunts, and joined the Chess Club of all things. The teenager spent weekends working on some of the cars in Bobby’s yard with his brother when the two were chasing vengeful spirits or hungry vampires or the like. He’d even managed to get his drivers license after spending a few weeks behind the wheel with Dean. Bobby had even let the two work on the old Cadillac that Harry and Ben had taken on their joyride back in the summer. Dean and Harry fixed up the car until it practically looked new. Then, Bobby let Harry keep it, with the understanding that the boy had to stay in school and upkeep the vehicle. Based on the spread of breakfast food laid out on the kitchen table the next morning, the boy had seemed to think it was a fair trade.
Little Ben had settled into life as a Winchester as well. The boy had made many friends at his new school and had even had Dean sign him up for the town’s recreational soccer league. This meant that Bobby, Dean, and Harry spent many evenings cheering for Ben and shouting insults at the referee from the bleachers on the sidelines. Dean had even been in charge of team snacks for several games. His choices of potato chips and gummy words had been rather popular with Ben’s teammates.
Dean’s hunting had decreased a substantial amount in the past months. He still went out on local hunts and the occasional weekend trip with Harry when Ben had sleepovers at one of his friend’s houses, but there was no more sleeping in his car or ratty motels with only gas station burritos and greasy diner burgers for sustenance. Instead, he taught Harry and Ben about mechanical work and even did commissions on some of the locals’ cars. Most surprisingly, Dean Winchester was now a member of the Sioux Falls’ PTA. Bobby had thought he was having a stroke when he woke one morning to find the man baking pies for Ben’s school’s bake sale. Though, nothing will beat the absolute embarrassment he had caused poor Harry by chaperoning his class’ field trip. Bobby had feared that the teen might curse his older brother for showing up in socks and sandals and a pair of board shorts. Though Dean had made it clear that it had been payback for Harry putting glitter in the Impala when buying supplies for a school project.
Needless to say, the salvage yard had been anything but silent over the last several months. There were days where the boys were solemn, where grief came back with a vengeance, but they kept moving forward Bobby couldn’t be prouder if he tried.
With how normal these months have been, he should have known they were due for absolute insanity to show back up on their doorstep.
“Ben! Come on!” Harry shouts from where he stands by the front door, backpack slung over one shoulder. Bobby sees the impatient look on the teen’s face as he exits the kitchen and almost turns back around.
“Give me a second!” Ben’s voice hollers back from upstairs.
“I’m gonna leave you if you’re not down in two minutes!” Harry snaps, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff. He seems to notice Bobby, then. “He’s going to make us late.”
“What’s keeping him?”
Harry glances from the staircase leading to the second floor to down the hall toward the door that leads to the basement. After the events of the summer, Bobby and the boys had converted the half of the basement that wasn’t a bunker into a proper bedroom for Dean, leaving Harry and Ben with their own rooms upstairs. He leans in before whispering his answer to Bobby, wiggling his eyebrows, “He’s got his first crush.”
Bobby can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, shaking his head, “And that’s a secret?”
“I think he’s scared of whatever pointers Dean may give him,” Harry snickers, nodding toward the basement. As if summoned, the down leading downstairs opens and the eldest Winchester strides out.
Dean raises a brow at Harry, “You’re still here? You and Ben are gonna be late for school.”
“We’ve only got a week left of term anyhow,” Harry shrugs, leaning away from Bobby and straightening up, “Besides, it’s your kid’s fault if we are. He’s spent the last thirty minutes in our bathroom trying to style his hair.”
“Style his hair?” Dean asks. Bobby watches the younger man make his way to the staircase leading up, stopping at the bottom. “Benjamin! Get a move on before you’re late!”
“I’m coming!” Ben shouts down to them, a bit of attitude coming through his tone. Bobby holds in another laugh at the expression on Dean’s face.
“Now!” There’s a few seconds without a response before Dean speaks again, “If you’re late to school we’re not getting diner pie on Friday.”
“I think that’s punishing you more than him, son,” Bobby says quietly, sharing an amused look with Harry. Dean scowls at him, but footsteps pound down the stairs before he can respond.
“I’m ready, geez,” Ben huffs as he gets to the bottom. He seems to have at least half of a bottle of gel in his hair, spiking it upwards. Harry lets out a strangled cough that sounds more like a muffled laugh.
“Uh,” Dean stares at his son’s hair, stunned.
“What?” Ben asks defensively, one of his hands shooting up as if to adjust the gelled hair but hovering uncertainly over it instead.
“Nothing,” his dad says quickly, “I was just admiring the new look.”
The kid’s cheeks pinken and he ducks his head, adjusting the backpack on his shoulders. “It’s what’s in now, Dean.”
“Right,” Dean nods and quickly looks away. “Well, you two better get going. And I should too. I’m supposed to meet Rodney McCallister from the pharmacy and check his brake pads. “
“All of you get a move on,” Bobby commands, waving them toward the door, “I’ve got my own things to do and would rather enjoy a quiet house while I still have the chance.”
“Oh please, Bobby,” Harry says as he grasps the door knob, “you know you love us.”
The front door swings open, but the teenage wizard stops in his tracks. All four of the house’s occupants do, in fact. Bobby thinks he may have stopped breathing.
On the front porch, fist raised as if preparing to knock, stands Adam Milligan-Winchester. A very alive Adam. No one moves or speaks for several tense seconds.
“So, I guess we’re not going to school?” Ben breaks the silence.
The kid’s damn right, though. No one is going anywhere until Bobby figures out why an undead college kid is standing on his doorstep.
-
Azalea Potter-Winchester stumbles over her own feet as she and Sirius fall through the see-through curtains of the veil. Her back meets the rough stone of the chamber, her godfather landing practically on top of her.
“Oof,” the air leaves her lungs at the weight of the older wizard, her head knocking on the floor with the impact. Before she even has a chance to fully open her eyes, high pitched alarms begin wailing, the sound ricocheting against the stone.
“Merlin’s balls!” Sirius grunts, slapping his hands over his ears as he rolls off of Lea. She takes a moment to suck in a deep breath before pushing herself up to her feet, brandishing her wand. Her eyes flick around frantically, trying to find the death eaters they had just been battling. Trying to catch sight of her twin brother. An empty chamber greets her instead.
She spins in three quick circles, heart racing. Where did everyone go? Harry and her friends? The rest of the Order? Voldemort’s lackeys? The deranged Lestrange witch that had sent her and Sirius falling through the veil and out the other side? Several cracks of apparation halt her movements, falling into a defensive stance instead.
“Freeze! Lower your wands!” The figures around her wear red robes, surrounding her and her godfather. Sirius inches closer to her, still looking slightly dazed as he takes in the sight of the aurors.
“Lily?” The animagus’ voice is quiet as he holds his wand down at his side, confused.
“Not now Padfoot,” Lea hisses out the side of her mouth, narrowing her eyes at Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks, the two aurors she actually recognizes. She directs her next words to them, “Where’s my brother?”
“Azalea,” Tonks looks her and Sirius over with wide eyes, sharing a look with Kingsley. She casts another look towards Lea, lowering her own wand. “I’ll just…” The former Hufflepuff trails off before disappearing with another loud crack. Lea focuses on Kingsley instead, but keeps a wary eye on the other wixen as well. She places herself between Sirius and a scowling wizard with a rather bushy monobrow, the auror staring at her godfather with narrowed eyes.
“Lower your wands,” Kingsley directs the order to his fellows, the witches and wizards gape at him in response.
“That is Sirius Black!” A witch with short purple hair exclaims, wand still held aloft.
“And that is Azalea Potter. She is a child. Lower your wands,” The Order member glares, looking to each auror until they have all complied, then turning back to Lea. “Are you hurt?”
She ignores the question, repeating her own query instead, “Where is Harry?”
“Black, are you hurt?” The bald wizard changes tactics, avoiding Lea’s gaze now to focus on Sirius. She reaches out with her free hand to grasp her godfather’s sleeve, just in case they need to make an escape.
“Hm? No, Kings. Lily and I are just fine,” Sirius twirls his wand between his fingers, eyes glazed in the way they always are when he’s stuck somewhere between the past and present. “Feel a bit funny, though.”
“Auror Kingsley, are you not going to arrest this wizard? He is an escaped mass murderer-”
“He has not yet been properly identified, Auror Lexington,” He levels the same witch from before with a quelling glare. “We will follow proper protocol.”
The wizard that Lea had been eyeing before scoffs, taking a step forward. Lea stiffens, baring her teeth at him as she better positions herself between him and Sirius. “This is ridiculous! Black obviously kidnapped the Potter girl and has now gotten himself caught. I demand you arrest that wizard or I will!”
“Stand down, Auror Smith,” Kingsley almost growls the words, lifting his wand once more. The banging of a door cuts their interaction short. Lea turns, finding a door she had not noticed during their previous battle, blending in seamlessly with the wall. The wizard she least wishes to see in the world comes walking through it, following Tonks and Susan Bones’ aunt. Perhaps Dumbledore isn’t exactly the wizard she wishes to see least, but he’s definitely in the top three, right below Tom Riddle and above Severus Snape.
“Lower your wands!” Madam Bones barks out the order as the group comes sweeping toward them. The aurors immediately comply this time.
Tonks beelines for Lea, tripping slightly over her own feet. Once she’s in reach, she lays a hand on Lea’s shoulder, squeezing tightly with a strained smile. “Wotcher, Lea.”
“Tonks,” Lea nods in greeting, keeping her cautious gaze on where Dumbledore and Madam Bones have stopped a few feet from them. The headmaster has an expression of concern painted on his face, but the twinkle in his eyes gives away his glee. It makes her stomach try to curl in on itself. “Where’s Harry?” She turns back to Tonks, still keeping a tight grip on Padfoot’s sleeve as she looks demandingly up at the older girl.
“Erm,” Tonks glances nervously between her and Dumbledore. She gives Lea an apologetic look before shrugging and stepping back to be shoulder to shoulder with Kingsley. Madam Bones comes forward to take her place.
“Miss Potter, will you allow me to cast an identification spell upon you?”
Lea tightens her grip even more on her godfather, wrapping her fingers tightly around the wand in her other hand. After a tense, silent moment, she gives a stilted nod. Madam Bones raises her own wand and Lea resists the urge to flinch away from the spell she casts. She just came away from a vicious fight with Death Eaters, she can handle a simple identity check from the Head of the DMLE. Madam Bones must receive the results she wanted, as she quickly finishes and turns her wand on Sirius instead, casting the same spell without asking the man for permission. Her expression goes stony at the results of the spell and she takes another step forward.
“Miss Potter, step away from that wizard. Sirius Black, you are under arrest for-” the DMLE Head doesn’t get a chance to finish.
“No!” Lea raises her own wand, shouting out a spell without a care for the consequences. “Bombarda!”
The aurors around her scramble to throw up shields in front of Madam Bones, but it’s all for naught. Not a single spark leaves Lea’s wand. Not a twinge of magic twists in her gut. The familiar tingle in her fingertips doesn’t come. Everyone freezes.
Lea grips her wand tighter, trying to hide the tremors beginning in her fingers. She keeps her gaze on her wand as she waves it again, whispering, “Stupefy.” Still, nothing happens. Her heart sinks to her feet.
“Azalea, my dear, come here,” Dumbledore says in that false grandfatherly tone of his, holding out a wizened hand. Lea must be in shock, because she actually obeys the request. She continues staring at her wand in fear as she releases her godfather and shuffles toward one of the wizards she most hates. The sound of an arrest being made behind her is muffled by the blood rushing in her ears. Her magic isn’t working. She can’t even feel a spark of it. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. It’s…gone. The shock from this means she doesn’t even react when Dumbledore’s hand lands on the shoulder Tonks had held only minutes ago. They disappear with a resounding crack.