It's the smell of coffee and bacon that eventually wakes Sam up. It's out of place, but he supposes Dean has just come back from a diner with a hot breakfast to celebrate another successful case. Upon opening his eyes though, Sam doesn't see the cracked wallpaper and questionable stains of bedsheets over him, but motes of dust illuminated by the morning sun and a miniature library surrounding him. Memories of the previous night hit him in a wave.

Using magic to torch the ghost, Hendrickson and company appearing, and then escaping to Bobby's place. Sam rubs a hand over his face to wipe the last bit of sleep from his eyes and to reorient his mental map to Bobby's house. Heaving himself off the couch, Sam stretches and curses that Dean still insists of taking the larger couch despite his shorter stature. Sam notes that the couch in question has a pillow with a Dean-shaped imprint, but although Dean is no longer there, Sam suspects he knows where to find him.

As Sam lumbers into the kitchen, a cup of coffee in a chipped mug is thrust at him. He takes it from Dean gratefully and sits across from Bobby at the small kitchen table, leaving his brother to continue pretending to be Gordon Ramsey, but with less yelling and swearing. Sam sips the coffee appreciatively – Bobby, for all his cheap liquor and philosophies of rough living building character, has always held quality coffee in high regard, much to Sam's delight.

"Mornin', Sam. Did you sleep alright?" Bobby asks.

"As good as I can when everything below my knees is hanging over the edge of the couch," Sam glares at the back of Dean's head as he works over the stove.

"Why didn't you just make the couch longer?" Bobby asks in disbelief, and in an instant, Sam feels like an idiot.

"Using magic again will take some getting used to," Sam groans with his face in his hands.

"I'll get the couch fixed up for tonight," Bobby assures. "If you'd believe it, I'd forgotten how much you'd outgrown that couch."

The click of ceramic on wood has Sam's stomach growling in anticipation. He takes his hands from his face and sees a plate full of scrambles eggs, bacon, and toast. "Thanks, Dean," he says before shovelling the eggs into his mouth. Bobby had been given a plate too but with slightly smaller portions of food.

"Just be glad Bobby had eggs in the fridge that weren't expired and bread that wasn't mouldy." Dean says, setting his own plate down next to Bobby who flicks his head without looking up from his plate or stopping eating.

"So Bobby," Sam says, swallowing his mouthful of food. "You mentioned yesterday that you had a case for us. What is it?"

"I've got an old friend who should arrive this afternoon. I sent him a letter last night telling him you two were here. I think we should wait until he gets here - no sense explaining everything twice," Bobby says. Sam nods and continues eating.

"Well, Baby's running fine, thanks for asking," Dean comments after a short silence.

"If anything happened, it would have been because of your shoddy magic," Sam says.

"Sorry, did you suddenly become The Human Torch? How did you plan on burning a ghost's bones without even a broken match?"

Sam opens his mouth to fire an insult back but Bobby interjects. "That's what forced you to use magic and get the Congress on your asses again?" He sounds incredulous. "It's a wonder you've survived this long. Idjits." Sam and Dean both laugh. 'It's good to be home.' Sam thinks as he chews on his bacon with a smile on his face.

-.-.-.-

Sam ends up spending the rest of the morning looking through new additions to Bobby's book collection. There are some which are just compilations of other books he already has, but Sam takes some of the more exciting ones outside to read on the back porch. Bobby threatens his health if Sam doesn't return them to the shelf in the same condition they left. Sam has a feeling it's an empty threat delivered any time he or Dean use Bobby's collection for research, but he's never tested it, and he doesn't intend to now.
Sam settles into the old Muskoka chair, putting his notebook on one wooden arm and the stack of books on the other, ready to write out notes he finds interesting or important. As Sam gleans information from the books, he hears the sounds of Dean working away at fixing one of the cars in Bobby's garage.

Sam won't be surprised if several other cars come in over the next few days from word of mouth getting around that Bobby's nephew is back in town. Dean's learned everything he knows about cars from John and Bobby, but his special care for the Impala over the years has given him a knack for fixing almost any problem cars can have in no time. Some of the locals know this, and they like to have Dean check up their cars when he's stopped by Sioux Falls for a visit of any length.

By around noon, Sam's become so engrossed in the books that he is reading that he is surprised when he glances up to find that he is sharing the porch with about half a dozen of Bobby's ravens. One of them has a letter strapped to its leg, crawing to be relieved of its burden.

While Bobby usually sticks with typical white envelope paper from the corner store, this one is made of yellowed parchment and has a fancy red seal pressed with what looks like a crest of sorts. The image tickles something in Sam's memory, but the letter is addressed to Bobby, so he takes it inside. Axl, as Dean had named the bird many years ago, flies over and perches on Sam's shoulder, nipping at his ears.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get you some treats. I'm sure Bobby's got some in the-" Sam raises his wand on instinct, judging it to be a better weapon against the bearded man in robes sitting at the kitchen table. The man doesn't so much as flinch as he sips from his cup of tea. In fact, he slowly sets it down and opens his mouth to speak just as Sam's opens his to demand an explanation. Before either can speak, Bobby opens the front door and surveys his kitchen.

"Oh for pete's sake, boy, but your damn wand down. Do you honestly think I would let someone in my house that I didn't trust, let alone serve them tea?" Bobby asks.

Sam sputters, "Well, no, but-"

"Who let Gandalf in? If I knew we were having a Lord of the Rings marathon, I'd have brought by sword." Dean traipses in behind Bobby and goes to the sink to wash his hands of oil and other grime from the car he was working on.

"I have not met any Gandalfs in my many years, but if he looks like me, I'm sure he's a charming fellow that I'd like to meet." Although Sam gauges the man to be at least as old as dirt, his eyes twinkle like a child's beneath his half-moon glasses. Dean barks a laugh and Bobby shakes his head. Sam allows his wand to fall back to his side, but he still holds it tight in his grip.

"Really Sam. Put your damn wand away." Bobby growls.

"No, Robert, it's my fault. I must have been faster than your raven that I sent with my letter." Sam holds up the envelope in his hand as Axl croaks proudly. "Ah, that would be the one."

"I figured I'd let Dean come in and wash up before getting you, Sam." Bobby explains.

"Oh," Sam says lamely, finally pocketing his wand. Sam grunts as Axl pushes off of his shoulder and flies over to Dean who now has a handful of treats and is feeding them to the bird generously.

"I suppose introductions are called for. I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Headmaster of Hogwarts?" Sam asks just as Dean requests if he can get the name written down.

"Yes, and yes, although I hardly think that the latter is necessary, as you can just call me Albus or Professor Dumbledore. And I presume that you are Dean?"

"The one and only," Dean smirks.

"Thankfully," Sam mutters, earning himself a glare.

"And you must be Samuel." Dumbledore is smiling at their antics as he looks towards the taller Winchester.

"Yeah, but I usually go by Sam." Dumbledore nods in acknowledgement. "So, I'm sorry if this is rather blunt, but what are you doing here?"

"Did it get too rainy across the pond? Looking to dry off?" Dean asks, petting Axl absently on the head.

"The weather has been rather dreary lately, but no. I am actually visiting here on other business. I was hoping that you both would be able to assist me."

"How?" Sam's curiosity is piqued. The acclaimed greatest wizard of this age asking the Winchesters for help? 'This ought to be good,' he thinks, sitting down at the kitchen table. Bobby grabs another chair and sits down too. Dean remains leaning against the counter.

"Well, I'm not sure how much you keep up with news about Hogwarts, but we have found ourselves in a bit of a mess as far as staffing goes," Dumbledore explains. "Our teaching position of Defence against the Dark Arts has been declared 'cursed' due to the high rate of staff turnover." Sam wonders what he was getting at with this. "In fact, last year the professor in the position was actually possessed by a part of the dark wizard Voldemort's soul. You may remember him from a decade or so back."

Sam's scrunches up his face in thought. "Yeah, it was something about a Harvey Turner being a hero or something? Defeating Voldemort even though he was just a kid?" He turns to Dean. "Dad had wanted to check it out, right Dean? It was only your fear of flying that-"

"Let's cut to the chase here," Dean interrupts, glaring at Sam for bringing up planes. "I don't see what you want us to do about your school's problem - it just sounds like bad luck to me. I'm not sure if there is a curse that we could break if we tried."

"Oh, I don't want you to break any curses," Dumbledore says. "It is the stigma around the position that has led to me not being able to find anyone suitable and willing to take on the job. I came to Robert to see if he knew anyone who would wish to be a professor at Hogwarts this year. He suggested both of you."

There is a pregnant pause as the Winchesters digest this information, and it is soon shattered to pieces with laughter.

"You want Sam-"

"You want Dean-"

"To teach?!" They finish at the same time and then keel over in laughter. Sam holds onto the table to try and stable himself and Dean clutches to the kitchen counter for support, Axl abandoning his shoulder in favour of flying outside the open window, squawking angrily. Dumbledore looks on slightly confused but still smiling politely while Bobby's face flickers with a strange mixture of frustration and embarrassment.

"Well, yes," Dumbledore replies as both brothers try to stifle their laughter unsuccessfully. "Robert recommended you both highly for this position. As the previous headmaster of Ilvermorny, I trust his judgement in this matter."

Dean sobers up quickly. "You're serious?"

"Yes. If Robert believes that you are qualified to teach the students at my school, I am sure that you will both do an excellent job."

"Oh Bobby, you do care." Sam says, giving false doe eyes to Bobby who just glares at him.

"Just because you're the best wizards I know doesn't mean too damn much. I don't exactly hang around the brightest crowd."

Dean solemnly puts his hand over his heart. "Robert, we're touched."

"My foot will be touching your ass none too gently real soon boy." Bobby threatens pointing his finger at Dean who returns his anger with a grin. It's Sam who brings the conversation back to the topic at hand.

"You do know that we're wanted by America's Magical Congress, right? Dean and I have a bit of a checkered past with the police and whenever we do unwarded magic, they come hunting us down to try arresting us." That was the reason Dean chose to send them to Bobby's. The wards that were in place obscured magic use and made it almost impossible for aurors to pinpoint their location. To them, the Winchesters had managed to escape right off the map. Again.

"Besides the creatures that you hunt, have you ever harmed anyone intentionally?" Dumbledore asks raising one of his eyebrows.

Sam shrugs. "Not if they weren't gunning for us first."

"Yeah," Dean says without much conviction. Sam looks up at him, but Dean won't meet his eyes. Thankfully Dumbledore doesn't comment on it.

Sam knows his brother, and he knows there was a lot that was unsaid in that one word.

Dumbledore places his elbows on the table and tents his fingers looking intently at both the Winchesters. "Then, I believe that Robert's judgement of you two is valid, and I trust you two to teach the students of my school. And besides," Dumbledore smiles, "as far as I am concerned, the Ministry of Magic is not invested enough in American affairs to raise any complaints at me finding teachers for my school from the States, and I am not inclined to inform them of said affairs."

Sam feels excitement beginning to bubble inside of him despite his concerns about Dean. "We still have a magical signature that can be traced. We can't use magic without the Congress tracking us down."

Dumbledore's eyes become mischievous. "I have a friend who should be able to help. I will arrange for you both to meet him." A smile breaks over Sam's face, his excitement coming to the surface.

"So," Dean claps his hands together, "When do we start?"