Didn't See It Coming
Chapter 1
"C'mon Sammy," Dean called out. "The train's here."
Sam didn't even look up from the giant book he had his nose in as he stood up. He balanced the book in one hand as he tossed his blue scarf over his shoulder and tucked it more tightly around his neck. Dean shivered. It was a cold day for the first of September, and Dean was still wearing his muggle t-shirt and jeans.
"You are such a nerd." Dean rolled his eyes as Sammy stood beside him, eyes still scanning his copy of Advanced Potion Making. He'd barely put it down since Bobby took them to Diagon Alley for their school things last week.
"Yeah, okay," Sammy responded automatically. Dean watched the other students making their way over to the edge of the platform as the Hogwarts Express steamed into the station, its red side bright with rain. It stopped, and Dean hopped on, looking over his shoulder to make sure Sammy followed.
They found an empty carriage and took it over immediately, Dean throwing his backpack into an empty seat and spreading out. Much as he wanted to seek out the friends he hadn't seen all summer, he knew how much a quiet reading space mattered to Sammy. He sighed as he watched his little brother settle into his seat, shaking his long hair out of his eyes, and Dean lay back for a nap.
He was jolted from his doze by footsteps in the passageway.
"I told you, they need direct morning sunlight," a gentle voice murmured. "You should have planted them to the east of the house, or the southeast at least."
"But mother's gardens have taken over the whole estate," a boy replied crossly. "My window box was the only place I could plant the ruddy things."
Dean looked up, curious, to see two boys in the passageway, one of them holding a sad and wilted specimen. Dean couldn't recognize it; Herbology was never his best subject. A soft knock came before the door to the carriage slid open.
"Do you mind if we join you?" A Hufflepuff boy, already in his school robes, asked. Behind him stood his friend, an expensive-looking sweater over his uniform. Dean blinked and shrugged. Sammy looked up, surprised.
"Excellent," the other boy announced, swiftly removing Dean's backpack from an empty seat and sitting down. Sammy looked over at the potted plant in his lap.
"What's wrong with your dittany?" Sam asked.
"Not enough sunlight, according to Mr. Herbology over here," the boy in the black sweater grunted crossly. "Do you know how to cure it?"
Sam shook his head. "I could consult my books though." The boy waved his hand.
"Don't bother," he said. "I'll get Professor Sprout to look at it."
"I'm sure we can nurse the wee thing back to health," the Hufflepuff said placidly. He was still looking at Dean, who was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the boy's blue-eyed stare.
"Dean Winchester," he said, offering his hand. The Hufflepuff shook.
"Castiel Novak," he introduced himself, "and this is my friend, Crowley MacLeod."
"Any relation to Rowena MacLeod?" Sammy asked immediately. The well-dressed boy nodded curtly.
"My mother," he said.
Rowena MacLeod? Dean mouthed to Sam. Sam nodded, and waved his I'll explain later gesture. Dean was starting to hate how much his twin knew that he was completely ignorant of.
"Winchester," Crowley added. "I'm sure I've heard that name before."
Dean watched as Castiel offered Crowley much the same wave Sam had shown him, and he was grateful for it. His entire first year had been spent explaining that, yes, he and Sam were the twin sons of the famous Auror who'd given his life fighting Voldemort, and no, they were not keen on talking about it. In second year he'd found an easy way out, by reminding anyone who asked that they were also Campbells on their mother's side. After third year, he'd had to make his bragging more specific.
He remembered one episode in particular, last year, when he and Sammy were fifth years. An eager second-year Ravenclaw girl had been pestering Sam for more details about his famous father, when Dean intervened.
"You want to hear all about our family?" Dean asked. The Ravenclaw nodded. "Where to begin?" Dean exclaimed, putting himself physically between his brother and the curious second-year. "You must know our mother was murdered by Death Eaters, but do you know her entire family have been fighting Dark wizards since the Middle Ages? We can trace our origins back to Merida Campbell, who saved her Scottish village from Animagi who attacked in the form of bears…" Sam's eyes had grown wider and the listening Ravenclaw's eyes had narrowed as they listened to Dean make up total crap about the Campbell family. The girl had held out until Dean started describing his grandfather's (fictitious) unicorn conservation and relocation program before storming off in disgust.
Sam had not been exactly grateful.
"You have to stop making me look like an idiot in front of my fellow Ravenclaws," Sam had demanded.
"Well, excuse me," Dean retorted, "it didn't look like you were doing much to discourage her."
"The Campbells are an renowned family," Sam reminded Dean, "they've done plenty of great things. You shouldn't make up garbage to punish someone for being curious."
"Doesn't it bother you," Dean asked hotly, "that people are 'interested' in all the gory details of how our parents died?"
"Just because I don't want to talk about it," Sam said quietly, "doesn't mean people shouldn't ask."
"They damn well shouldn't ask," Dean countered. "At least, they shouldn't ask us." Sam shook his head, and Dean felt his ire rising. Stupid Ravenclaw Sam, with his 'pursuit of knowledge' bollocks. Acting superior to Dean, who'd been sorted into Gryffindor just like their muggle-born father and every member of the Campbell family on record. Sam just had to be different, as if the Winchesters weren't good enough for him. As if Dean wasn't good enough for him.
Crowley's voice jarred Dean from his reverie.
"Almost there," Crowley noted, looking out the window. "We ought to get back to the prefect's carriage."
"You're prefects?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. "How come you aren't with the others?"
"We were there to meet the new prefects," Castiel explained, "but then Crowley and I wandered off." Crowley crossed his arms. "He doesn't get along with the other Slytherins."
"I don't get along with most people." Crowley smiled. "That's what makes you special, Castiel."
Dean rolled his eyes, but felt a pinch in his gut. Castiel's blazing blue glance had seemed more than just friendly, but if Crowley was talking to him like that…
"Other Slytherins?" Dean repeated. He fought with his face, trying to achieve an expression of dismissive nonchalance.
"What did you think I was?" Crowley met his eyes with much more convincing contempt.
"Didn't think Mr. Herbology here would be best buds with someone from the Death Eater house." Dean retorted. Crowley scowled.
"It's not a 'Death Eater' house," he replied. "But don't worry: remarks like that show everyone you're a grunting Gryffindor." He smirked. "Think you'll remember your way off the train, or shall I get one of your prefects to show you the way?"
"Besides," Castiel interrupted, his face crumpled in concern. "There aren't Death Eaters anymore."
"Sure there are," Dean shot back, wincing internally as Castiel's shoulders seemed to fold inward. "Haven't you heard? They're back. He's back."
"The Ministry would like for us all not to panic," Crowley said, more than a hint of menace in his voice. "Though I'm sure you'd love nothing more than an opportunity to show off your heroism…. Just like your parents." His sarcasm burned a hole in Dean's gut and painted red spots high on his cheekbones.
"Are you really going to deny what everyone knows?" Dean asked, getting angrier by the second.
"What 'everyone' knows," Crowley said, framing his words with air quotes. "Is what Potter tells them, and we all know he's not quite the 'reliable source' you Potter-worshipping Gryffindors think he is."
"We don't worship Potter," Dean spat. "But we don't wish he was dead, like you Slytherins."
Crowley leaned forward, another insult on his lips, but he cut himself off abruptly. Dean followed his gaze to Castiel's face, blue eyes wide. Dean noted the trembling hand on Crowley's forearm. He could barely hear it, but he watched Castiel's lips form the words please don't.
Crowley got up.
"So nice to meet you," he said formally, nodding to Dean and Sam – who was watching open mouthed from behind his spellbook. "We must be sure to run into each other again." Putting an arm around Castiel's shoulders, he shot eye daggers at Dean, who raised his chin, accepting the challenge. Crowley and Castiel turned and left the carriage; a moment of silence descended before Sam started sputtering.
"What the hell, Dean?"
"What?" Dean snapped.
"What was that even about?" Sam asked. "You were baiting some Slytherin prefect – who can take points off you, by the way –"
"Like I care about house points," Dean huffed.
"You don't even know You-Know-Who is back!" Sam yelled, letting his book fall into his lap.
"So?" Dean whined.
"So?" Sam continued, aghast. "The MacLeods are only one of the most powerful wizarding families out there."
"I don't care," Dean spat. "I'm a Winchester, and we aren't afraid of anyone!"
Sam covered his face with his hands.
"Whatever," he said. "Have it your way. Just get your robes on, will you? We're almost there."
Even after the excitement of the feast, Dean still couldn't get his encounter with Crowley and Castiel out of his head. He was trying to sort out what about their conversation bothered him, when his thoughts were interrupted.
"I know," he heard behind him, "there's no way this can be good. Take the Daily Prophet ragging on Harry Potter all summer, add a Ministry official teaching classes at Hogwarts, and that odiferous speech –"
"You really think there's going to be a problem, Jess?" Dean turned. There was Sam, concern on his face, trailing after an irate blonde Ravenclaw.
"Hey Sammy!" Dean called. "Good feast, huh?" They ate well at Bobby's, but Dean had pined for Hogwarts roast chicken and gravy-drowned steak all summer.
"Yeah, I guess," Sammy muttered. "What did you think of all that?" He asked, indicating the great hall with his thumb over his shoulder. Dean shrugged.
"What, the Sorting Hat's 'get along' song?" Dean asked. "Whatever. As if we should forget what house produces Dark wizards and just hold hands and sing Kumbaya."
Sam's blonde friend opened her mouth – probably to disagree – but Sam cut her off.
"I don't know, Dean," he said, shaking his head. "Didn't you hear that pink nightmare's speech?"
"Blah blah, we're not eating yet, blah blah, be good kids, blah blah," Dean summarized. Sam and his friend rolled their eyes in sync.
"There's a reason your brother's not in Ravenclaw, isn't there?" The blonde asked Sam.
"Excuse me," Dean replied in mock offense. "Someone's gotta keep the world safe for you quill-pushers."
"See you in the Common Room, Sam," the blonde said, joining the throng of students heading back to their respective dormitories.
"Your friend's got quite the attitude," Dean commented. Sam bristled.
"Jess is—" he began.
"Yeah, whatever," Dean waved his explanation away. "You know what this means, right?" Sam's eyes narrowed.
"No, Dean," he protested. "We're in sixth year now. We are too old for this."
"Never," Dean cackled. "Watch your back, Sammy. Bobby's cease-fire is only in effect under his roof. Now that we're back at Hogwarts…" he spread his arms. "Prank war is back on."
"You are hopeless," Sam sighed. He made his way towards the staircase.
"Good night, bitch!" Dean called after him. Sam disappeared into the crowd.
"Get stuffed, jerk!"