Title: Hey Little World!
Chapter Summary: Gabriel meets a witch. It goes about as well as you'd expect.
Warnings: Crack, far too much sugar, Adam is very pissy when he wakes up, Gabriel is very insulting to pretty much everyone, you know the drill.
Disclaimer: Don't own Supernatural, Harry Potter, EastEnders, Coronation Street, or anything else I may mention.
Notes: Today's chapter title comes from The Rascal King, by the Mighty Mighty Bosstones, which I consider to be the theme song of the Gabester. Also, Gabriel's views do NOT represent the views of this author. Well, okay, they generally do, but not in regards to British television.
A Hero or a Hooligan? Well, That Part's Never Clear.
The arrival and reading of the letters had led to a loud discussion, which quickly turned into a loud argument, which ended only when a pissed-off littlest Winchester started dropping hot pancakes on laps when people got too loud.
The run down was this: apparently they all had 'magic' (except for Bobby and Ellen, who Dean sulkily called lucky – he'd had over 25 years of experience informing him that magic, even if it wasn't straight-out evil in this dimension, was nothing but trouble), and they were all accepted to attend a school for it starting September 1st. Oh, and apparently they were also 'Muggleborns' ("Sounds like a racial slur!" Gabriel had chirped happily), so each family would be visited by a representative of the school who would explain what all was going on.
After a few laps-full-of-pancakes (and a lot more swearing), Ellen took control of the conversation. "Now, I don't see how we can stop them, so me and Jo and the baby angels-" Gabriel made a face, and got kicked under the table for his trouble. "-will go back to 'our house'," there was a distinctive pause before that, "And we'll meet up later to discuss."
"Can we have breakfast first?" Gabriel asked, giving his best puppy dog look, which was not very good. Sue him, neither archangels nor trickster gods needed to do much pleading in the course of their duties. Archangels were more with the smiting, and trickster gods – shockingly – were trickier. Still, it worked, probably because they had until noon and breakfast was half cooked anyway.
Then it was back to the seriously identical house next door (except that their kitchen table only held a note reading, Go next door, Bobby and the Winchesters are there, rather than the thick file of legal papers), where Ellen instructed them to return to the rooms they had woken up in and get ready for the day – and, she said, pointedly staring at Gabriel, they could feel free to stay in the rooms until noon, when the representative was due to show.
Up in his room (which looked rather like it had been attacked by schizophrenic painters and was somehow a total mess even though it had been neatly organized when he awoke, and he'd only spent about five minutes in it total), Gabriel carefully reviewed his wardrobe selection for the day – but who was he kidding? He was totally going with the t-shirt that read Jesus loves you, but I'm his favorite. Which, okay, Jesus actually thought he was a dick (carpenters, seriously), but whatever. Nobody else had to know that. A pair of jeans, sneakers, and pockets full of candy, and he was ready to go (he gave props to God – sure, Pop had disappeared for way too long and then dumped him in kid form in another universe, but at least the guy gave him a huge stock of candy along with vaguely blasphemous t-shirts).
Lollipop stick hanging out of his mouth – he had to get more of these, it had started out cherry and was now turning lemon, there were layers of flavors – Gabriel slid down the banister on the stairs, looking for a TV. He found it in the front-most room, with Castiel already sitting in front of it.
He scanned his brother's outfit as he flopped onto the couch and grabbed the remote. A collared shirt and slacks? Seriously? "You know, the TV works better when it's on," he snarked, hitting the power button and getting comfortable – and getting his sneakers all over Castiel's nice clean slacks.
An annoyingly familiar jingle sounded on the channel that popped up, and Gabriel's eyes narrowed. He hit the channel up button, and – yeah, he knew that too. He quickly found the news channel and stared.
Castiel's head tilted. "The lower corner of the screen reads 2 August 1995," he observed calmly.
"Yeah, and it also says BBC!" Gabriel whined. "Do you know what was on TV in Britain in the 90s? Nothing! Nothing but EastEnders and Coronation Street and kill me now!" He flopped over, playing dead in a typically over-dramatic fashion.
Castiel just blinked at him.
Whatever. He only had, like, two hours to wait. He could deal with EastEnders for that long.
(About a half hour in, Ellen checked the living room and found Gabriel alternating between yelling at characters on the screen, gasping, and explaining to Cas why so-and-so was married to Guy #1 but sleeping with Guy #2. Okay, yeah, he had watched a lot of EastEnders over the years; he wasn't ashamed to admit it! Except in that he was, really, as would any other self-respecting male of any species. She shook her head, and withdrew.)
Five minutes to noon, the whole 'family' (Gabriel snorted internally at that idea; he may have to claim Castiel, but these two women who had followed Morons #1 and #2 to their deaths? Nah. He cheerfully ignored the fact that he, too, had technically followed them to his death) gathered in the living room to await their 'representative'.
Ellen had turned the TV off and then threatened to tape Gabriel's mouth shut if he couldn't keep it shut himself. Gabriel had tried to use his angel mojo on her in revenge, and started sulking when it failed to work at all. Apparently Dad had made him completely human, which he thought was totally lame.
Right as the grandfather clock in the corner started chiming noon, there was a loud crack and a frowning lady in a green robe was in the middle of the room. She reminded Gabriel fondly of Raphael – he was really the least fun of the archangels, which was saying something if you'd ever met Michael.
Her frown quickly morphed into pursed lips as she took them all in: Gabriel with his usual smirk, blowing obnoxious bubbles with his gum and popping them loudly; Cas with his uncombed nearly black hair (Jo had made a comment about it, and Cas had just stared uncomprehendingly), white collared shirt, slacks, shiny black shoes, and intense (yet blank) stare; Jo, blonde pigtails now replaced by twin braids, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt she had stolen from Gabriel's room because God had apparently given her a ton of sundresses instead of something she'd actually wear; Ellen over all of them, discreetly fingering a knife – just in case; and none of them shocked in the least.
"You're not really the best good-will ambassador I've ever seen," Gabriel noted when it seemed like the lady wasn't going to say anything.
She frowned at him, and Gabriel felt very special about getting a frown all to himself. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry." She spoke with a faint Scottish brogue. "I usually start off with a demonstration of magic-"
"Don't let us stop you," Gabriel butted in. Jo elbowed him sharply in the ribs, making him squawk and making Cas give them both a disappointed frown that clearly read, I disapprove of your shenanigans. Cas, Gabriel figured, was probably the only person under the age of eighty who could – and would – use the term shenanigans seriously.
"-But by your reactions, I don't believe it to be necessary," McGonagall finished, giving all three of the children a disapproving look even better than Castiel's, given that his expressions always had an element of disconnect that screamed 'I don't know how to make expressions! Save my autistic-ass self!'
"Don't worry, we believe in magic. It's the specifics we're fuzzy on," Ellen said, taking her hand off the knife in an effort to be a tad more discreet.
This, apparently, trigged the speech function for MechanoGonagall. "Hogwarts is the premiere British school of magic. Students attend for seven years and learn a full range of subjects, including Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, and Herbology. It is a residential school, and at the beginning of their first year students are sorted into one of four houses, which act as a surrogate family while at school." At this point, she produced what looked like a brochure that had gorged itself on the Necronomicon and handed it to Ellen. "This is the pamphlet we like to give Muggle parents. It details the magical educational system and explains the process by which our exams are translated into the Muggle world."
Ellen started in on the pamphlet with the same intense scanning look that all hunters got while looking through texts to find details on their latest hunt.
"Where are we to obtain these items?" Castiel asked, holding up the second sheet of the letter he had received, which – if anything – looked more pristine than when it had first arrived.
"Yeah, I've tried asking for dragon hide gloves before, people just give you weird looks." That, of course, was Gabriel.
"There is a magical shopping district in London known as Diagon Alley, there are plenty of shops there to buy your supplies. If you are amenable, I could escort you there today," McGonagall offered.
Ellen nodded, and opened her mouth to give a verbal agreement, when what sounded like a small explosion went off in the direction of the Singer/Winchester/Milligan house. They didn't bother to exchange looks, and instead took off – Jo in the lead, followed closely by Cas and Ellen, McGonagall at a slightly more dignified pace, and Gabriel bringing up the rear, annoyed that he could just snap his fingers to get over there.
Storming into the living room via the kitchen – it was quicker than going to the front door – led them into a showdown. On one side of the couch, Bobby and Dean stood (both holding knives from the kitchen). On the other side, a man dressed in all black with long greasy hair, a very ugly look on his rather ugly face, and what Gabriel figured was a wand pointed at Bobby. In the hallway, a worried Sam on guard in front of a bored Adam.
The greasy man sneered when he caught sight of McGonagall. "McGonagall, good. You can take them as well." With that, he spun and popped out of the room.
Figuring that was the other representative, Gabriel turned to his own with a raised eyebrow. "Please tell me you're not in charge of who visits people for the explaining."
By the slightly guilty look on her face, she totally was. Gabriel treated himself to a chocolate truffle in congratulations on another guess well-done.