Hey! First of all, thank you so much to the following reviewers:

Elise477

Nemezus

Guest

Second of all, it's been a while since I read the Harry Potter books, especially the fifth one, which you will recall as 'roughly big enough to bludgeon an elephant to bloody death,' so my apologies for anything I get wrong.

Sam and Dean spent the week or so in between their arrival and the time a flood of witches and wizards in training would pour through the doors trying desperately to cram all of the necessary knowledge into their minds. Or, Sam did. Dean trusted him to summarize everything important for him, which was maybe not wise, but we'll get to that later.

They, of course, had more than enough practical knowledge (their entire lives, more or less, discounting the years each had taken off for college or a domestic life because the other was trapped in some afterlife or another) to teach a class on hunting and killing evil things. The problem came when it came to magical culture, because yes, there were apparently enough of them for them to have their own subculture.

They had frequent visits from the other professors as they arrived, several of whom seemed rather nervous around them. Sam tried to ensure them that they only hunted Dark Witches and Wizards, though his heartfelt reassurance was somewhat spoiled by Dean conspicuously cleaning his guns in the background.

Once Professor Sprout had left, shaking, Sam spun to shoot his brother a deadly look. "Dean," he said, running a hand down his face, "is that really necessary? If nothing goes wrong-"

"Winchester luck, Sammy. You just jinxed it."

"If nothing goes wrong," Sam repeated clearly, speaking over his brother, "we'll be teaching here for the whole school year. There's no point in you antagonizing the entire faculty."

With a huff, Sam returned to an excruciatingly thick tome called Hogwarts: A History that Dean was pretty sure would function better as a bludgeoning weapon. Dean was flipping through a substantially thinner book on common Dark magic curses.

"I recognize a few of these," he said suddenly, catching Sam's attention. "Remember that guy in the Samhain town, who was coughing up razor blades?"

Sam winced in sympathy at the memory. "They were in the Halloween candy."

"Yeah, him. Well, look at this," he said, passing the book over to his brother still open to the page. Sam squinted at it and read from the page aloud.

"'Acutus Cibus- A Dark spell to cut the innards of your enemy through his food.' Looks about right," Sam said. "Wow. I wonder..." he paused to flip back to the index and ran a finger down the worn parchment. "Here's the other one, the girl who boiled in the apple bobbing tank. Cruedelis Coquo."

Dean snatched the book back. "There's counterspells, Sammy! Ways to reverse the curse besides finding the hex bag."

Sam smiled. "See? This isn't that bad, is it?"

Dean scowled at him, schooling his excitement back into a definitely-still-not-happy face that wasn't fooling anyone, least of all Sam.

~o~

By the time the start of term rolled around, they were... well, not ready, but ready enough. Ready enough, at least, that they weren't completely caught off guard by the singing hat and the floating candles and everything else. They had a basic grasp of most of the spells they had to teach the students (though most of their lessons would be more practical) and understood that they were to help the fifth and seventh years prepare for their OWLs and NEWTs respectively, names that still had Dean snickering every time they were mentioned.

Dumbledore, in what Sam was sure was an attempt to placate Dean, had said that they didn't have to wear robes if they didn't want to, which was good as they didn't own any robes and had no idea where to get them. They were a bit out of place wearing their usual flannel and jeans at the head table, but neither Winchester brother was particularly concerned by the dress code or the strange looks they were getting from several students.

"Dude," Dean hissed under his breath, "some of those kids are only, like, ten."

"Eleven," Sam corrected.

"Still. They start 'em that young?"

"Looks like," Sam said, picking up on Dean's discomfort. Having been raised in a lifestyle they never had any choice in from a young age made them look at the youngest witches and wizards in a new light. He was pulled out of his train of thought by the entrance of a kid, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with messy black hair and glasses and maybe a weird scar peeking out from his hairline. He nudged Dean to attention.

"That's the one we're supposed to keep an eye on. Harry Potter."

"Oh, yeah. Another kid who has to deal with the 'Chosen One' bullshit, right? Poor kid," Dean commented with a sympathetic grimace as his eyes also found the fifth year student. Sam nodded unhappily. That was something they could always agree on: Destiny was bullshit.

The students were split into four long tables running the length of the room, each clearly color-coded, which made things thankfully easier for the Winchesters. There was the red Gryffindors, blue Ravenclaws, yellow Hufflepuffs, and green Slytherins, which Sam had repeated to Dean until he was ready to throw his nerd brother into a wall.

But he did remember them, so maybe there was something to Sam's method, not that he would ever, ever tell him that.

~o~

Harry Potter's year was not off to a great start. Before school had even started, he'd already been nearly expelled from Hogwarts for using magic to save his cousin (whom he didn't even like) and put on a full-blown trial just for protecting himself in a life-threatening situation. Ron and Hermione had become prefects and he should be happy for them and he really was trying to but he'd barely seen them since getting on the train, they'd been so busy, not to mention that Ron had been chosen over him and then he felt even worse for being jealous of his friend. When he finally arrived at Hogwarts, Hagrid had been missing and replaced by Professor Grubbly-Plank and the charming magical carriages were now pulled by gaunt, winged horses. Thestrals, Luna had said.

It was looking to be just a great year.

When they arrived, the first thing Harry did was scan the head table to a sinking disappointment when he saw that Hagrid was indeed nowhere to be seen before his interest was piqued by two men sitting up where the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would usually be, but they couldn't be, they weren't even wearing robes. They were looking at him strangely, not with the mixed excitement and pity he usually got, but instead something softer. Sympathy, almost like they knew exactly what he was going through, but that was impossible.

Wasn't it?

He listened carefully to Dumbledore's introductory speech, and heard the two men introduced as Professors Sam and Dean Winchester, who would indeed be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Then the feast began.