Sam Winchester looked up at Dean, grinning from ear to ear. He was finally going to see what all this hype was about… If Bobby could be bothered to pick them up.

'Wonder where he is, the portkey's leaving any minute…' Dean worried, as he took another bite of lemon meringue pie, but just as he was saying so, there was a loud pop! and Bobby appeared in front of them.

'Alright, now, you boys behave, y'hear? I don't wanna have to tell your dad if Professor McGonnegal sends me a damn howler, Dean. Now grab hold of the portkey, and don't you dare let go until I tell you. Okay?' Dean and Sam eagerly grabbed the old, chipped mug just as it started to glow blue.

'Bye, dad,' Sam said as they disappeared, leaving John passed out on the couch.

As they whirled through the air, Sam felt like he was going to be sick. There was something keeping him absolutely glued to the mug, and it was making his hand really itchy.

'Alright, boys, let go!'

'Are you insane, Bobby?'

'Trust me! Let go!'

Sceptically, Sam wrenched his fingers from the porcelain…

…And fell flat onto his face on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley. He stood up and brushed himself off just as Dean and Bobby landed.

'Jerk.'

'Bitch.'

'Stop it, boys. Alright, off to Ollivander's, Sammy. Dean, you can run off and catch up with your friends, I think I see Castiel over there.'

'Oooooh, Dean's going to see his boyfriend!'

'Shut up, Sammy,' Dean replied before skulking off to run after Cas.

As they walked down the Alley, Sam gawked at all of the witches wizards dressed in funny-coloured cloaks and robes, and ducked out of the way of the way of no less than six different spells of various origin, none of which would have harmed him, but better safe than sorry. Every time Sammy saw a new shop, he had to re-evaluate what he considered strange: it seemed that the deeper into the alley they got, so too did the stores get stranger. They passed Eylops' Owl Emporium, Gringott's, Madame Malkin's, Ambrosius' Herbal Apothecary, and a variety of other such strange stores.

'Bobby?'

'Yeah, Sammy, what is it?'

'What if they got it wrong? What if Dean's the only one with magic?'

Bobby took a deep breath and stooped a bit to look into Sammy's eyes.

'Remember when you drew that pentagram on the floor without even touching the blood? Your dad thought you were possessed, right?' Sam nodded.

'Well, then, there you go. Muggles can't do that. Besides, Dumbledore's never been wrong about a student, Sammy, and he sure as hell ain't wrong about you. You're gonna be great. Now, let's get to Ollivander's and get your wand, huh?' Sam smiled and nodded at Bobby.

Just as they were about to go inside, a dark-haired boy about Sammy's age, and only a bit shorter, stormed out, leaving his older brother to pay for his wand quickly and run after him, calling 'Sherlock Holmes, you get back here right now!' Bobby and Sam shared a sceptical look before they walked inside, Sam slightly hidden behind Bobby.

'Ahh, Mr. Singer, hello! You haven't broken another of my wands, have you?' Sammy peeked out from behind his as-good-as-father.

'Oh, I see. Is this Mr. Winchester, then?'

'I'm Sam,' he squeaked as he stepped forward. Tapes began to take his measurements of their own accord, as Mr. Ollivander told him about the wizard selection process.

'Now, Sam, how much has your brother told you about wands? Anything at all?'

'He told me I don't get to pick my wand, that… it'll pick me?'

'And he's absolutely right. The wand chooses the wizard, and you will never get as good results with another wizard's wand. Alright, I think those are all the measurements,' Ollivander said, causing the tapes to fly off into their cupboard. The ancient wizard went to the back of the shop, and came back holding a faded old black box, about the length of a shoebox, but unreasonably narrow.

'Try this,' he said as he pulled a light-coloured wand from the box. Sam took it from him gingerly and flicked it in the direction of the door. Which exploded.

'Oh dear. Reparo!' Ollivander said as he flicked his own wand.

'Not my wand, then,' Sammy decided as he handed it back.

'No, I should think not…' Ollivander put the wand back before returning with an intricately patterned red-and-gold box.

'Ebony, 11", dragon heartstring… surprisingly swishy,' he told Sam as he handed it to him. Sam waved the wand briefly, causing the staircase to collapse.

'No! No! Certainly not!' Ollivander cried.

Seven wands later, Sam was sceptical of whether he really was magical. He cautiously took the offered wand ( 9 6/8", Oak, Unicorn Hair, slightly flexible), and flicked it. All of the damage that he had caused began to undo itself, and his hair got rumpled by a breeze that seemed to come from nowhere. Bobby clapped, and Ollivander looked incredibly relieved.

'Six galleons, please, Mr. Winchester.'

oOo

That evening in their room at The Leaky Cauldron, Sam pored over his new spellbooks by wandlight with a new spell he had learned: Lumos.

'Go to bed, Sammy,' Dean complained around midnight.

'If you sleep in and we miss the train, you won't get to go at all.' Sam stuck his tongue out at his big brother before whispering 'nox.' As he fell asleep, Sammy wondered vaguely if he would make any friends at Hogwarts.

oOo

Early the next morning, the boys took turns showering (Sammy first, so Dean wouldn't use all the hot water), then got dressed and headed downstairs into the pub for breakfast. Dean ordered a bacon and sausage quiche ('You can't have pie for breakfast, Dean,' Sam had said, to which Dean replied 'Yeah, but this is egg pie, Sammy, it's a breakfast pie.'), and Sam ordered the closest thing to healthy food he could find: a bowl of the lumpiest porridge that ever lumped. It had some kind of indiscernible fruit on it, which sort of made the skin on the back of Sam's neck tingle funny. About halfway through breakfast, a group of boys flew down the stairs and crashed into their table.

'Sorry about that,' said the tallest of the four, a boy with long, dark hair.

'James here decided it would be a good idea to try and curse my ear off.' He gestured to the boy next to him, also tall, with unruly, jet-black hair.

'I'm Sirius, by the way. Sirius Black.'

'Sam and Dean Winchester. Shove off, we're trying to eat,' said Dean, literally pushing a small, rodent-esque boy off of the table.

The boys ran off, causing trouble for the innkeeper somewhere else.

'Dean, that was rude,' Sam scolded his older brother, who really should have known better.