DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter, Supernatural, Sherlock, and Doctor Who all belong to their respective owners. If I owned them all, I'd be very rich.
The Hogwarts Express sped through the countryside, passing lakes and forests on its way to Hogwarts.
"I hate you, Cas." Dean repeated for the thousandth time.
"It was necessary." Castiel replied, staring intently out of the window of the train.
"But going to a goddamn school in Britain for learning mojo?" Dean objected.
"Necessary." Castiel reppeated, "With Lucifer turning the earth into his slayground, we need all the allies we can get, even if it means wizards. Being de-aged by those witches was a...complication."
"Are you first years?" A rather snooty-sounding(though that came with the British accent) came from the doorway, "This is my second year."
Dean barely glanced up at the bushy-haired girl, "Yeah." He said sullenly, still pissed at Castiel.
"American are you?" She asked.
Sam smiled up at her, "Yeah, I'm Sam, this is my brother Dean, and that's Cas."
"I'm Hermione Granger, I'm in Gryfindor." She replied, "Mind if I sit here? I can't find my friends and everywhere else is full."
"Go ahead." Sam said just as Dean asked, "What's Gryfindor?"
Hermione sat, "Oh, there's four houses, Gryfindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."
"Gryfindors are brave, Hufflepuffs are loyal, Ravenclaws are smart, and Slytherins are cunning." Cas spoke for the first time.
"Oh, how did you know?" Hermione asked.
Cas just went back to staring intently out the window.
"O-kay." Hermione said, a bit confused at the younger(ha) boy's behavior.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the landscape go by. Sam remembered their trip to Diagon alley with a strange sort of fondness. After all, it wasn't everyday you went and got a wand.
"Hogwarts, I presume?" The kindly-looking man leaned over the counter.
"Yeah." Sam replied, still staring around the little pub.
"Got any parents with you?" The bartender asked.
Sam looked up gave him a smile that could've charmed the birds from the trees, "Oh, no, they aren't wizards, see, and we were wondering if you could get us into Diagon alley."
The bartender smiled, "No prob." He said, leading them out back, "You know, you should of come with McGonnagal, or Hagrid, or Flitwick, they usually have a teacher come with new students."
"Oh, we'll be alright." Dean said.
"If you say so." The bartender answered, tapping the correct brick.
Sam, Dean, and Cas stepped onto the busy cobbled street. The human's heads were turning this way and that. This was pretty amazing, even after everything they had seen.
And they had seen heaven and hell and everything in between.
"First we need to go to the bank." Castiel said, leading them quickly down the street, "Then we're going to get school supplies. An owl if we want, though there's no-one to send letters to yet. You can't contact yourselves while in this time. Parents are fine, but I don't recommend it."
They went into Gringotts and Castiel produced a key from his Trench Coat(it deserves capitals) and they were ushered into a tiny cart and sent hurtling down the track. Sam quite enjoyed the ride, though Dean was close to loosing his lunch.
They came back out, pockets full of gold ready to be spent.
It was probably the first semi-legitimate money the Winchesters ever used.
The school books and uniform were easy, though they all fidgeted through the fitting. They even got a large barn owl, who fluttered around in her cage impatiently as they headed toward Ollivanders.
They reached the small dusty shop and ducked inside. Ollivander was nowhere to be seen, so Castiel spoke, "In bringing you into the past, I also gave you a...shot of magic. You have the potential, but will have next to no natural talent."
Dean swore softly, "You couldn't of done more?"
"No." Cas replied, "I apologize."
Just then, the rather creepy figure of Ollivander came out of the back room, "Hogwarts?"
"Yes." Castiel replied.
Ollivander wiggled his wand and a tape measure flew up and began measuring Sam, "Which is your wand-hand?" He asked.
Sam paused, then said, "Right."
"All right." Ollivander went to the rows and rows of wands stacked in their neat little boxes, "Each of my wands has one of three magical substances in its core. Phoenix feather, dragon heartstring, or unicorn hair. No two of my wands are the same, and each and every one of them has strengths and weaknesses. Try this one." He said suddenly, magicking a box over to Sam as the measure started on Cas, "Spruce and dragon heartstring, 9 inches and 10 centimeters. Excellent for curses. Give it a wave."
Sam raised the wand and gave it a little flick. A box flew off the shelves and hit Cas in the forehead. Sam gave him a sheepish grin and handed the wand back.
"You are definitely not a dragon heartstring wizard. They'll appreciate you for your power, but they'll be quite impatient with you and will disobey should you ever find yourself using one." Ollivander mused.
This went on for at least fifteen minutes before Ollivander handed Sam a box containing a yellowish wand with bark pulled back to provide a handle, "An American wand for an American wizard. Madrone and phoenix feather, eleven inches exactly, quite stiff."
Sam took the wand and waved it. A warm sort of breeze blew through the shop, rustling papers and the wands and boxes left scattered all around flew back into place.
"I confess I love it when that happens." Ollivander smiled, "Still, there's two other customers who can wreck my shop."
They fitted Dean next, it was nearly a half hour before he got a ten inch-one centimeter dogwood and dragon heartstring wand('A wand excellent for the offensive and the most powerful pairing I've made').
Castiel was trickier than the Winchesters, it was more than forty-five minutes until Ollivander found the wand that had hit him in the forehead. Ironically, that was the one that chose him, "Redwood and phoenix feather." Ollivander said, "Remember to use it often. I find that redwood gets impatient when it isn't doing magic."
The three of them were just about to leave when another young wizard with floppy hair and an unfortunate chin burst in, "Hi, I'm the Doc-John Smith." He said, "And I want Ollivander to take a look at an old family wand I got to see if it'll fit me well enough."
"That'll be twenty-two galleons and twelve knuts." Ollivander said, passing Cas the box. The angel passed the wandmaker the money and they turned to leave.
"Sycamore and...is that a mixture of Fwooper and Hippogriff feathers?"
John nodded.
Ollivander waved it around, "It's a powerful wand." He said, "Who made it?"
"I found it in the attic, I think the person who made it owned it and they died."
"Hmm...I don't much like Fwooper feathers; too erratic and unpredictable, but the Hippogriff feathers balance it out nicely, but this will be a hasty wand. It's perfect for charms and I think that you'll get along nicely with it." Ollivander handed the wand back to John and the young boy ran back outside.
Their thoughts were interrupted when the door slid open and a thin boy with curly black hair came in, carrying a trunk and a cage holding a sooty owl.
"Hullo." Hermione said, "I'm Hermione."
"You're a muggle-born Gryfindor in your second year. You're very obviously smart and the sorting hat considered putting you in Ravenclaw. It should have as well; Gryfindors are all too-brave duffers who can't tell when to stop fighting. You don't have that many friends, just two or three really close ones. You've been through a lot with them. You're very work-oriented and enjoy school. Good thing too. I don't want to be surrounded by a bunch of dunces. Did I get everything right?"
Hermione stared for a few moments before pulling herself together, "Gryfindor is not a bunch of duffers!" She objected.
"But did I get everything more or less right?" This new kid revised.
Hermione huffed, "Yes." She said.
The little first-year pumped a fist, "Eat dragon dung, Croft!" He plopped into the seat next to Hermione, "I'm Sherlock Holmes, and I'm obviously going into Ravenclaw."
Hermione's mouth quirked in a smile, "You don't know until you get there." She said.
"Actually, the sorting hat is not the only thing that can figure out where you belong. It just takes a little thinking and deduction. Families tend to be grouped together, though I'd hate to be in Slytherin with Croft."
Sherlock sat next to Castiel, "What's your name?" He asked referring to the three Americans.
They each responded at the same time.
"Pleasure." Sherlock replied, "Obviously Sam and Dean will be in Gryfindor."
"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you." Hermione responded, "The sorting hat can see inside your mind. You can't do that, not until fifth year, I hear we can study Occulmency then."
"Occulmency is a waste of time." Sherlock replied, "What I'm looking forward to is transfiguration."
"It's really hard." Hermione said, "At least, things like changing mice into goblets. You'll be starting with toothpicks to needles or clothespins into quills."
Sam, Cas, and Dean all looked out the window as the two intellectuals began talking about defense against the dark arts.
"Anything from the trolley?" A plump witch opened the door.
"Yes, please." Hermione took seven sickles from her bag, "I'll have a box of Bertie Bott's to share, cauldron cakes for everyone, and three flasks of pumpkin juice."
"That'll be six sickles and three knuts."
They shared the food comfortably(except for Sherlock and Castiel, who refused), until it was time to change into their robes.
Fifteen minutes later, the train squealed to a stop and they each grabbed their trunks.
"Hope you get into Gryfindor!" Hermione called as they parted.
"Firs' years, firs' years, over 'ere!" A deep and hearty voice called.
Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Sherlock all bundled toward the giant looming over a small bunch of scared-looking first years.
The giant led them down toward a lake and a fleet of small boats. In the darkness and confusion, Sherlock felt himself slipping further from the Americans and people he sorta knew. He was paused further back as taller students clambered into the boats. Why, he would have to be the second-shortest student there!
He tried to peer over the heads of the other new students and was able to see Cas, Sam, and Dean get into a boat and soon after joined by another student.
He would be left alone again, with people he didn't know and would hate him within five minutes. He went toward one of the still-empty boats and sat, watching the lantern play shadows on the gentle waves lapping at the prow. With any luck, no-one would come in.
"Hi, mate!" Another student clambered in, "I'm John Smith."
"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock replied, barely sparing a glance for John.
"Magic." John said as the boats began moving forward, "Who knew?"
"I did." Sherlock responded curtly, "Some of us are from magic families."
"Neat!" John said, "What house do you think you're gonna be in? Gryfindor sounds like it'd be good for me."
"Ravenclaw." Sherlock replied, "Most of my family have been in Slytherin, and I'm not gonna be like Croft. He's head boy and the perfect student and the perfect son."
"Oh," John said, "I've learned not to put too much in by families. Terribly unreliable. If you don't want to follow in their footsteps, you don't have to."
Sherlock smiled slightly, "Thanks." He said, "From what Croft's told me, we'll be seeing Hogwarts soon."
John straightened up and started intently as they rounded a bend and oohed along with the other students.
Hogwarts loomed ahead of them, its towers touching the stars that shone brightly in this place without electricity. Lights that seemed too bright for fires and candles shone out of every window and reflected in the water.
"Heads down!" The giant called as they slid into a crack in the cliff overgrown by ivy. The boats stopped at a large dock in the cave lit by floating balls of light.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."
"I'll take them from here, thank you Hagrid." A stern-looking woman(with a face that puppies and maybe even Dean would obey) said.
Hagrid left, heading up a stairway to the side.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall began, "The start-of-term feast will begin shortly." Dean straightened up and paid more attention at the mention of the feast. "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 learning at Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will sleep in the dormitory, eat at its table, and have classes within your house. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has their own noble history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will loose you house points. Whatever house with the most points at the end of the year will be awarded the House Cup, a tremendous honor. I hope each and every one of you will be a credit to your house. The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes. I suggest you smarten yourselves up while waiting." She swept up the same staircase Hagrid had gone leaving the first years fidgeting nervously.
Sherlock combed through his thick hair with his fingers as he talked with John, who didn't seem to care that he was wearing a bright red bowtie in place of the regular tie in his uniform.
Castiel didn't bother to run a hand through his scruffy hair and just stood there stiffly and uncomfortably.
Dean and Sam didn't tidy themselves up either; they hung back and put on a show of bravado.
McGonagall came back after about five minutes, "All of you, follow me." She said curtly and led them into the hall.
Twice as tall as it was long, and three times as long as it was wide, the Great Hall baffled the first years, many of which had never seen a room so big. They stared stupidly around and up to the ceiling that seemed to open up to the night sky with millions of twinkling stars. They stopped in the center and waited, some of them only just noticing the frayed and dirty hat that sat on a stool. A rip at the brim opened like a mouth and the hat burst into song.
A/N: Okay folks, sorry about starting a new story, but I'm gonna put this one to the side and write it when I'm bored/have writers block for other stories/don't have the motivation to write other stories. This story's gonna be updated pretty often by my standards.
Now, this is your choice 'cause I'm torn: Should Sherlock be in Gryfindor or Ravenclaw or Slytherin? Ravenclaw and Slytherin for obvious reasons, but Gryfindor for the ease of writing the story(which means more updates more quickly). Tell me your vote in the comments, and also add what you think of this story down there as well.