Do You Believe in Magic?

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the words.

A/N: Ok, so I just watched the Season One Supernatural finale and the first ep of Season Two and ooooh boy. Yes, that is about all I can manage on THAT subject. Thanks so much to all who reviewed last update, your feedback totally made my day and inspired me to churn out another chapter! This one's a bit shorter than the first two and it's more of a getting-to-know-you filler chapter where the boys and the trio find out key stuff about each other, but I promise chapter four will be a little more exciting. Please read and be sure to drop me a line and let me know what you think (invisible cookies to all who review...::cough::)!

ooo

Chapter Three:

Similarities All Around

Dean's mood had just gone from bad to worse.

This night couldn't have gotten any freakier if the Dark Lord Voldie-thing barged in and started going on a killing spree. It wasn't as if he hadn't heard about witches and wizards, it was just that he'd been led to believe that they had, as a people, been wiped out ages ago. It sounded as if there were large groups of them living all over the world, they had systems of government, they sent their kids to school—

It was sort of overwhelming.

He was sure the Potter kid hadn't told them even half of what was really going on, and that annoyed him. Dean didn't operate on a need-to-know basis; he liked having all the details on his terms, whether or not anyone else had a problem with that. The thing was, though, Sammy had been right. They weren't in charge—these seventeen-year-old kids were powerful enough to bust his EMF reader, knock him unconscious with a single spell, and wipe his memory if they saw fit.

Dammit, he knew there was something wrong with this village!

And now, to add to all that, Sam was passed-out on the floor, after having one of those damn Haley Joel moments, no doubt, and Dean had no idea what to do.

Exhausted, he let his head fall to his hands, but jumped, startled, when someone put a hand on his shoulder.

"Dean?" Hermione's voice asked quietly. "Do you mind if I use a spell to wake Sam up?" He glanced at her briefly, then shrugged half-heartedly.

"Thanks," he muttered. She nodded, then slid over to his brother, pulled out the stick-thing, and put it to Sam's temple.

"Ennervate," she murmured. Sam sat up fast, gasping, his eyes wide-open.

"Dean!" he screamed. "Dean!" Dean scrambled to his feet and rushed to his brother, kneeling and putting a comforting arm across his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hermione staring over at Harry pointedly; the kid rubbed the scar on his forehead, frowning at Sam.

"It's okay, Sam," Dean soothed. "It's all right, I'm right here. You're fine, ok? Fine."

"Werewolf—the—you—dead!" Sam closed his eyes and drew a long, rattling breath. "Oh God."

"What werewolf?" Ron asked, squinting at Sam in some bemusement. "What's he on about?" Dean opened his mouth to tell the kid to shut up, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Oh, stop it, Ron, can't you see he's upset?" she asked crossly, folding her arms as she leant against a wall.

"What did you see, Sam?" Dean asked, concern for his brother outweighing annoyance with Ron.

"It was bad," Sam murmured, calming down a bit. "There was a werewolf, and this…" He shuddered. "…this awful laugh, high and cold and just…God. And whatever it was it…" He stared at Dean in some horror, then shook his head, unable to continue.

"Ok, what's going on?" Dean glanced up to see Harry Potter standing before them, looking puzzled. "What's all this about a werewolf?"

"Kid, this is not the—"

"No, Dean, this concerns them, too." Sam sighed shakily, then made to explain. "I…I have...visions. I see or dream about things before they happen and they always come true unless I stop them." Hermione drew a sharp breath.

"Oh," she breathed. "I knew there was something about you!"

"What?" Ron demanded, looking from Sam to Hermione in some suspicion.

"Don't you remember, we learned about this in Divination! It's possible for Muggles to acquire the Sight!" Hermione snorted. "Of course, I was skeptical at the time since it was Trewlaney who said it, but—"

"It is?" Harry stared at Sam. "When did this start, Sam?"

"A while ago," Sam said shortly. "I can't really pin it down…" Hermione was now regarding him eagerly, looking thoroughly intrigued.

"I hope you don't mind," she said carefully, "but could I ask…what happened to you?"

"What?" Sam blinked at her.

"Well, I thought it was odd you know so much about the supernatural and that you seem so determined to hunt things down, but this makes things even more complicated." She eyed him. "The general rule is that for a Muggle to obtain Sight, or psychic tendencies, something highly personal on a supernatural level must have happened to them. It's very rare that a Muggle is born psychic."

"How do you remember this?" Ron asked, staring at her in some astonishment. "You didn't even last a month in Trewlaney's class…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"We've been through this, Ron; I listen." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Sam. Would you mind telling us, or is it…too personal?"

"Damn right it's personal," Dean snapped, but Sam shook his head.

"No, it's all right." He met Hermione's inquisitive gaze. "When I was six months old, a…demon…came into my room and it killed my mother. Pinned her to the ceiling, and then set the house on fire."

"My dad and the two of us survived," Dean put in quietly. "And ever since, it's been Dad's mission to hunt down the thing that killed Mom and destroy it. Along the way, we go after every other evil bastard in our path." There was a long silence, and then Hermione sighed.

"I'm so sorry," she offered quietly. "That must have been terrible for you."

"Yeah, well," Dean said gruffly. "We manage."

"So, this demon," Ron said seriously, "did you ever find out what it was up to?"

"No. We just know we weren't the only ones."

"Blimey…" Ron shook his head. "I've heard stories but I've never actually met anyone…pins its victims to the ceilings, eh? That doesn't sound familiar."

"I haven't read anything about it," Hermione admitted. "Ron would know most about something like that…Harry?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I haven't heard anything about that sort of demon, and you're right, Ron'd probably be the one who could say anything about it…"

"Why?" Sam asked curiously, momentarily forgetting the vision. "I thought you all went to the same school."

"Well, yes, we did," Hermione agreed. "But I'm a Muggle-born and Harry told you his aunt and uncle brought him up."

"Ok, I'm sorry, but what in the name of God is a Muggle?" Dean asked, running a hand over his face tiredly.

"Muggles are non-magic people," Ron responded promptly. "Like you."

"All right, so wait…how come you're a witch then?" Dean asked Hermione, frowning. "If your parents are Muggles…?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I believe my great-great-grandfather might have been a wizard," Hermione responded, shrugging.

"And your parents were magic?" Dean asked Harry. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, but my mum was Muggle-born as well, and her sister—my aunt—is no witch. So neither Hermione or I had any idea what we were until we were eleven and we got the letters inviting us to school, but Ron's pureblood and grew up knowing about wizarding stuff his entire life."

"Ok, so you people don't know anything about this demon thing either?" Dean scowled. "Just friggin' great."

"Right, now that we've cleared that up…Let's back-up for a second, here, Sam. You have visions and you saw a werewolf doing what?" Ron asked, frowning.

"It attacked Hermione," Sam said, shrugging. "And, um…" He paused, rubbing his head and wincing. "…You and Dean came through the door next and you jumped at the werewolf, Ron, and then the…the laugh—" Sam cradled his head in his hands. "Oh God. Dean, something killed…I mean, you died."

"Aw—that's the second time you've seen me…well, you know !" Dean cried, jumping to his feet. "Jesus! When is this supposed to happen, Sammy?"

"I have no clue. I just know that it does." Sam sighed miserably. "What're we supposed to do?"

"It attacks Hermione?" Ron asked in a very low, quiet sort of voice.

"Yes," Sam said simply, feeling more exhausted than he had in months.

"Bloody hell." Ron, like Dean, jumped to his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of what Sam supposed were robes. "You're sure you don't know when this is going to happen?"

"Positive."

"You know," Hermione said, her eyes meeting Harry's again, "this sounds very familiar, wouldn't you say, Harry?"

"Hermione, this is different. You know I'm no Seer."

"I know." Hermione met Sam's eyes. "Two years ago, Harry started having dreams and sometimes visions about what V—Voldemort was doing…it sounds a bit like what you're going through."

"Well then," Sam said, raising a brow at Harry. "You get headaches when it happens?"

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, meeting Sam's eyes. "Horrible ones. I still have the pain, right here in my scar, but the visions have stopped for the most part. Voldemort found a way to block me…but, I mean, when I saw these things, it was like I was him."

"Hm." Sam shrugged. "I'm never involved in them. It's like I'm watching a movie or something."

"Still, I think there might be some correlation." Hermione eyed Sam. "You said that you weren't the only one this demon attacked? And…it came into your nursery?"

"And his mother died saving him," Harry said quietly, eyes boring into Sam's.

"Or at least she was going to try to," Sam agreed.

"I'll do some research," Hermione said firmly. "We know the scar Harry got from the curse binds him to Voldemort and that when Voldemort tried to kill him he passed on some…powers…to Harry. Maybe things work similarly in the demon world."

"I've never heard of it," Sam said, "but I'd be interested in helping you."

"Oh, I don't believe this," Dean groaned, pacing the room agitatedly. "Look—college boy, know-it-all witch-girl—we don't have time for the library crap! Did you miss the part with the werewolf? Me dying?"

"Yeah!" Ron piped up as he stalked past Dean anxiously (he was pacing the room too). "Shouldn't we put up wards or something? Go out and find the werewolf?" He eyed Dean. "Say, mate, just what can those Muggle shot-thingies of yours do?"

"Shot-gun, kid. A silver bullet to the heart, works like a charm. Speaking of charms…" Dean gestured to Ron. "What can you guys do? Can you wave those stick things and turn the wolves back to humans?"

"Not a stick, a wand. And yeah, I think there's a spell, it's pretty complex though—" Ron broke off as the room burst into laughter. "Oi!"

"I never thought I'd meet anyone as rude as Ron," Hermione managed between giggles, "but oh Merlin…"

"They could be twins!" Sam hooted. "Well, except for how they look and talk and the fact that Dean's dwarfed by Ron, but—"

"Hey!" Dean folded his arms irritably. "Me'n this kid are nothing alike."

"Damn straight," Ron put in. "Fancy comparing some nutter Muggle Yank to me!"

"Yeah, fancy that, you psycho, wand-waving little—"

"All right, all right, that's enough!" Harry cut in, laughter subsiding a little as Ron drew out his wand, ears bright red. "C'mon, Ron we were just taking the mickey out of the pair of you."

"Hmph," Ron muttered, turning away from Dean and going to sit by Hermione.

"Look, you were right before. We should be thinking about how to deal with the vision," Sam said hastily in an effort to calm the waters (Dean was looking murderous).

"All right, so we know it was a werewolf," Dean said, running a hand through his hair. "That means it's gonna have to be full moon."

"Not necessarily," Harry said grimly.

"Of course necessarily. What sort of werewolf comes out when it's not full moon?"

"The worst kind," Ron said, now looking a bit perturbed. "Are you sure it was…in wolf form?"

"Positive," Sam said. "Definitely hairy and ugly."

"And you said you heard laughter?" Harry asked, rubbing his scar nervously.

"Yeah…and then there was this green light and…" Sam trailed off. "It hit Dean." Dean's hand automatically dropped to his pistol, and he resumed his pacing.

"There's no need to panic yet," Hermione said calmly. "If you're sure it was in werewolf form, then we have some time. Next full moon is in two days."

"What do we do until then?" Sam asked, his eyes meeting hers.

"We wait." She rubbed her broken ankle, wincing a bit. "We wait, and we plan."

Dean paused by the window, leaning against the frame and folding his arms. If Sam hadn't known any better, he could've sworn the look on his brother's face was fear.