Chapter 4: New Faces
Going a week without seeing his father was not a new experience for Sam Winchester. Nonetheless, it had begun to feel strange to wake up in the morning without those obligations or that sense of dread.
Sam woke up very groggy, splayed across the single bed that he'd been sharing with his brother. He didn't try to get up immediately, savoring the peace of the morning and trying to recall his dream. There had been a man, maybe, and a therapist telling him something, reassuring him, and then darkness and wet pavement.
"… No he's not coming back yet." Dean's muffled voice came from just outside the door. Sam sat up a little, suspicious and eager to overhear. "You have to give him more time... Of course I'm taking care of him, we're fine. I've got some money… well how else would I get it? I don't have a job. Look, don't worry; I'll look after him. Maybe if you give him some space he'll get over it."
Sam shifted uncomfortably, miffed at Dean's secret communications. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes and tried to flatten his mop of hair before creeping closer to the door to listen. Closer, he could hear how strained Dean's voice sounded, the hidden anxiety he'd been carefully concealing for the past week.
"I can take care of him, dad. I promise… I- I can't tell you where exactly, but we're in London. Term starts this week; I'm going to take him to get school supplies... I know. Yeah, I understand. I know my job… Just try to understand him. Try not to make everything a fight, please dad… Alright. I'm sorry. Bye." Dean hung up, then sighed heavily. Sam felt a rush of guilt, understanding from the tightness of Dean's voice that his brother would definitely not have wanted him to hear that conversation.
Quickly, Sam padded back to bed and flung himself back down before Dean entered the room. Feigning sleep, Sam watched through a slit in his eyes and Dean threw off his coat then walked over and stood above him. He could glimpse the oddly parental smile on his brother's face and in a moment, he felt a hand brush a strand of hair out of his face. The bed shifted slightly as Dean perched on a corner, watching protectively over his sleeping brother.
Sam allowed himself to bask in the warmth and security of the moment, an unbidden smile curling at the corner of his mouth. However, the moment was ruined when Dean suddenly jerked the covers out from under him and made a horrifying noise that might have been an attempt at a rooster crow.
"Rise and shine, Sammy!" Dean bellowed, no longer the uncertain boy pleading with his father, but filled with bravado, confidence and wisdom beyond his years. "We've got shopping to do." Sam scrambled out of bed, dignity wounded.
"Seriously Dean?" Sam whined, regaining his balance at the expense of a stubbed toe. "You couldn't think of a better way?" Dean laughed goo-naturedly.
"Remember that week when I woke you up every morning blasting 'Heat of the Moment?' That was in Bristol, right?" Dean reminisced fondly.
"No Bristol was the werewolf. That was some nowhere village in Devon. And it was one of the worst weeks of my life," Sam grumbled, pulling a shirt over his head and consequentially sending his hair flying out in every direction.
"Alright, alright. Buck up a little. We're going to get your school stuff today." Dean ruffled Sam's hair into a further state of emergency. Sam smiled despite himself.
"We're going to Diagon Alley right?" Excitement crept into Sam's voice.
"Yeah! I forgot dad never wanted you to go. Thought you'd get jealous I guess." Dean carefully avoided the topic of their father's general prejudice against the wizarding world.
"But now I'll go," Sam said, almost dreamily. "And I'll be there with everyone else."
"Yeah…" Dean smiled without his eyes, shifting a little uncomfortably. "Look, Sam, you know I'm going to look after you, but… Well we've never had a lot of money. Hogwarts has a fund, you know, so you'll get your stuff. It'll just have to be second hand for the most part. We can try to find some bargains."
"Dean, it's not a big deal. What matters is that I get to go. Who cares if my robes aren't brand new?" Sam said reassuringly and Dean's face relaxed a little.
"Good. Get ready and we'll go." Dean busied himself with making two cups of semi-undrinkable tea and Sam pulled on the rest of his clothes, hands shaking with anticipation.
Sam and Dean dressed for invisibility, an important skill they'd picked up whenever their father's cases took them to London. The idea of spending money on something as basic as a train repelled John, but Sam's short legs couldn't keep up with Dean's brisk walking pace, so they'd long ago developed the perfect system for jumping the barrier and bunking the tube.
The station at Elephant & Castle was busy that early in the morning, but Sam and Dean managed to fit smoothly in behind other patrons. This was, Sam thought, the one place where his smallness seemed a distinct advantage. Eager not to be stopped for a ticket, Dean hurried them onto the next train and leapt off the moment the doors opened at the Charing Cross station.
Sam was not familiar with Charing Cross Road, but he had a vague memory of being taken to sit in a book shop for a few hours while Dean bought his school supplies one year. Eagerly, Sam looked around, unsure of exactly how a secret wizard street would be hidden in a place like this. Dean led him a few blocks down the street then pointed.
"Do you see it this time, Sammy?" He squinted a little and pointed near the next corner. Sam's eyes shifted between two fairly average little storefronts, unfocused.
"See what? How am I supposed to know what to look for?" Sam asked irritably, gesturing widely.
"Just concentrate. Look where I'm pointing," Dean said, and Sam tried to follow the line of his finger, screwing up his face with effort.
Abruptly, Sam's eyes seemed to gain clarity and he noticed a grubby black pub squashed between two buildings. He gasped a little, shifting back and forth between the miraculous pub and the buildings beside it. Dean grinned.
"Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron, fine wizarding pub and lodging. C'mon." Dean loped along, disappearing into the pub. Sam followed into the dim pub, trying to adjust to the smoky darkness after the bright street.
The Leaky Cauldron was fairly empty, occupied only by the barman and a few elderly witches in tall dusty hats decorated with ragged stars and what appeared to be live birds. Dean saluted the barman as they passed through.
"Alright Tom?"
"Move along, Winchester," The barman, who looked something like a gnarled billiard ball, snarled sullenly, clutching protectively at a stack of plates.
"One day you'll appreciate my youthful vigor, Tom. It might spice up your little establishment. Bring in more business," Dean said, leering at the elderly witches who tittered and sent the birds on their hats into a frenzy of chirping.
"And who is this?" The barman said, noticing Sam and peering suspiciously at him as though he might have several missiles jammed under his jumper.
"My little brother, Sam. It's his first year." Dean leaned on the bar and casually lifted a bottle from the shelf while Tom was distracted by Sam. Sam sighed inwardly and attempted to smile innocently. Tom looked repelled.
"There's two of yeh?" His face had fallen as though he had discovered an unwarranted parking ticket. "Move along, move along."
Dean had shoved the bottle under his coat and allowed himself to be ushered out of the bar. Sam tramped along after them out into a little courtyard, completely closed in by a brick wall.
"Uh, Dean? Is he… imprisoning us?" Sam whispered nervously. Dean smirked knowingly and said nothing.
"Go get yer supplies, but don't even think about staying in my pub afterward," Tom grumbled, stomping back into the bar and slamming the door.
Dean, completely unbothered by the Tom's obvious hatred of him, stood contemplating the bricks for a moment. Sam peered closely at the bricks as well, eager to spot the magic before Dean this time.
This test, however, proved more straightforward. Fishing out his wand, Dean simply tapped a specific pattern of bricks and the wall began to gamely shuffle aside. Sam tried to hold the combination in his memory for the next time he visited.
But the pattern completely vanished from his mind when he saw what lay on the other side of the wall. A cramped little street unfolded in front of him, shops exploding with color crammed up against each other and equally colorful people packed between them. Men and women wearing sweeping robes in outrageous colors swished majestically from shop to shop, children pressed their faces against windows bursting with delightful and strange toys, and a few very abnormal creatures with tiny sharp faces flitted about on the sidelines.
Dean seized Sam by the arm and pulled him into the throng. Amid the crowd of magnificent people, Sam felt smaller than he'd ever felt in his life. He brushed through velvet cloaks, following the smell of butterscotch. A dirty man with very few teeth and a very patched hat attempted to sell him an amulet that appeared to be made of a sprouted onion and several shriveled lizards.
It was like being inside of a book, Sam thought. Every wild story that Dean had brought home over the years was suddenly manifested in front of him, with more glorious details than he ever could have imagined.
"So we'll need robes, I suppose. Then maybe books and we can see how much we've got left after that." Dean muttered, jolting Sam back into reality. "I'll go exchange our money and let you look around a little."
Dean shouldered off into the crowd, leaving Sam to poke his nose into all of the fascinating little shops he'd been eyeing. He darted into Eeyelops Owl Emporium and spent a few minutes staring at the vibrant variety of birds. He forced his way into the crowd at Gambol & Japes and spent a few minutes roaring with laughter over the brilliant tricks and jokes the wizarding world provided. Although he had no money to spend, one of the clerks let him examine the Fanged Frisbee.
His fingers only slightly gnawed on, Sam escaped back onto the street and headed next door to Quality Quidditch Supplies. The game held a sort of mystique for him. He knew that Dean played, but his brother never explained the game articulately enough, leaving Sam's imagination to embellish it to mythic proportions.
A group of other children, obviously students, were all gathered around a corner of the store, gazing longingly at a sleek brown broomstick. Sam quietly joined the group to listen.
"I hear it's the fastest broom in the world," sighed a boy around Sam's age.
"All the teams use it. No one ever flies on anything else," a little blonde girl in brilliant white robes announced.
"I'd love one," Sam sighed to himself, eyes bright. The blonde girl turned and looked him up and down scornfully.
"As if you could afford it. Even for a mudblood you're poor," she spat scornfully. Sam felt as though he'd been slapped. He backed away from the group, humiliated.
"Well I don't see you getting one any time soon, Lilith," snapped a slightly older girl with dark hair and a firm mouth. "Your daddy hasn't been buying you many presents lately seeing as he's rotting in Azkaban."
Lilith looked mortified and whirled out of the shop. Sam stood stunned, unsure whether he should leave or not. The dark haired girl approached him.
She was slightly taller than he was, although only a year or so older. Her brows were thick and her jaw strong, yet there was an appealing softness to her mouth.
"Sorry about that. Lilith's starting this year at Hogwarts and I'd rather not have her walking all over the rest of you," the girl addressed Sam. "I'm Ruby by the way, I'll be a second year."
"I'm Sam," he replied shyly. "Uh, first year."
"And your parents are muggles?" Ruby asked, not unkindly.
"Yeah, my dad's a muggle. But my older brother goes to Hogwarts." Sam said, encouraged.
"Good, I just wanted to make sure you aren't completely overwhelmed." Ruby laughed warmly. "Who's your brother?"
"Dean Winchester. He's a fifth year." Sam shrugged, fidgeting with a tin of handle polish. Ruby's eyebrows shot up, but her tone stayed neutral.
"Well, I'll probably see you at school. Do you need any help finding anything?" She asked. Sam fumbled for his supply list.
"Um, is there a second hand robe shop? I've only spotted the main one."
Ruby stretched out a hand and Sam grasped it tentatively. Laughing, she tugged him out of the store onto the street. Darting through the crowd, Sam felt his face grow warm as Ruby pressed purposefully ahead.
"Alright here you are, delivered safely." Ruby gave a mock bow and salute. Sam grinned and waved before she melted back into the crowd.
The second hand robe shop was dim and disorganized, long black cloaks piled haphazardly on long tables. A few other students seemed to be rummaging through the piles, looking for a size at least similar to theirs.
Sam looked around for Dean, but not seeing his brother, decided to start searching for robes that would not be comically large on him.
When he reached into the first pile, his hand bumped against another and he jumped. A girl with curly blond hair poked her head around the pile of robes.
"Oh hallo. Looking for the smalls?" She asked without condescension. Sam flushed.
"Uh, small. I mean yes. I'm looking for you. I mean smalls. We are both looking for smalls," he stuttered. The girl giggled a little and held out her hand. He shook it.
"I'm Jess. This is my first year, is it yours too?" She asked and Sam nodded. "Great! I'm so excited to go. My parents are… what do they say? Muggles! Yes, so they're utterly shocked, but honestly they should have guessed years ago when I accidentally exploded all the Christmas presents. Did you know you were magic?"
"My older brother was." Sam said, suddenly finding it easy to speak. "But I didn't think I had the stuff, you know? It was just a few months ago when I managed to dry clean my school uniform spontaneously that I knew. It's… amazing." Jess squealed with laughter, throwing her whole head back in a flurry of golden curls.
"Dry cleaning! So much less dramatic!" She declared, then sobered slightly. "Well, I hope you can do that with these robes." She plucked a very large pair with what appeared to be acid burns down one sleeve from the pile. Sam recoiled in mock horror, pleased that she laughed again.
"I can try," Sam smiled. Jess reached her hand forward again, and for a breathless moment Sam thought she might hold his hand again. Her eyelashes fluttered shyly and she seemed about to speak. Sam's mouth hung open and he hoped he didn't look like an utter prat.
"Sammy!" Dean bellowed as he strutted into the store. Jess immediately retreated to her side of the table and started sorting through robes again. Sam, mortified, spun around as, to his horror, his brother decided to seize him by the head and ruffle his hair.
"Hello Sam," came a more subdued voice from behind Dean and a sad-eyed teenager with a nest of dark hair stepped into view. He wore wizard's robes with a long tan trench coat draped over his slender frame. Yet his air of sleepy disorganization was offset with a sharp hawk nose and piercing blues eyes that gave off the alarming impression of barely controlled strength.
"Sam, meet Cas. Finally in person!" Dean relinquished his headlock on Sam and gave an affectionate punch to the dark-haired boy.
Sam had been hearing of the exploits of Castiel Milton for years now. To Dean, Castiel was somewhere between socially awkward baby and badass messiah defender of the weak. His family was apparently extremely old and influential, yet Castiel wandered on the fringes of popularity, bound by family duty and honor, yet unpretentious and recklessly loyal to muggles. Dean raved about him, although Sam thought smugly that he probably wouldn't want Castiel to know all that. Nothing bothered Dean more than having his swaggering masculine confidence undermined.
"Hi," Sam waved a little. "I've, uh, heard a lot about you."
"And I you," Castiel said sedately, his accent perfectly cultured. "Your brother talks incessantly about you. Worries, to be more accurate. But in person you seem much more… capable." Sam flushed and cast a scathing glance at Dean, but Castiel, although blunt, seemed to respect Sam's judgment of the matter.
"So I've exchanged the money, now we just need to spend it," Dean announced. "Look for the smallest possible robes."
Sam resisted the urge to bury himself in the pile of robes and never face the outside world again. As he turned to continue rummaging through the piles he caught a glimpse of Jess sweeping out of the store. Sam made an odd sort of choking noise in an inarticulate attempt to wish her goodbye, and had to pretend he was coughing when Dean cast him a funny look.
The work went faster with three people and soon they has found a pair of robes short enough so that he did not trip over the edge, although the sleeves completely covered his hands. Dean paid quickly, the grim strain of financial management etched on his face.
Sam turned and saw Castiel gazing at his brother with such powerful protective adoration that it startled him. Castiel fidgeted with the edge of his own perfectly new pristine robes, apparently fighting the urge to offer some sort of monetary assistance without wounding Dean's pride. A smile cracked across Sam's face and warmth flooded through him. If Dean was going to pick such strange friends, Sam hoped they were all like Castiel.
"Now onto your favorite part, Sammy. Books!" Dean announced as they left the store. "Just think of all the research you can do, day and night, avoiding any fun…" Sam rolled his eyes.
"Oi!" Yelled a voice through the crowd and a slender blond girl maybe a year younger than Dean shouldered her way through the crowd towards them. She had a sweet cherubic face with round dark eyes and a little pouting mouth. However, to Sam's discomfort, she had the most terrifyingly determined and formidable expression on her face that, in contrast with her beauty, made her presence extremely jolting.
"Jo!" Dean embraced her affectionately and her face softened into a smirk. "Haven't seen you all summer! How's quidditch and, uh, how's your mom?"
"I've been training all summer," Jo proclaimed. "We're going to have a winning team this year for certain. Ravenclaw doesn't stand a chance, even with that new seeker of theirs. As for mom, well, let's just say that she hasn't gotten scarier."
"I don't understand your obsession with Professor Harvelle, Dean. A good teacher must be strict with pupils in order to enforce discipline," Castiel said disdainfully. Dean snorted.
"Well apparently she can't see the difference between my boundless youthful energy and what she termed 'moronic childish buffoonery'" Dean grumbled, assuming a pretentious accent and sending Jo into convulsions of laughter.
Sam looked around, utterly mystified, but still feeling the warm glow of general acceptance. There was something about the way Dean lit up around his friends that cast sharp relief on his dutiful silence at home.
Dean rushed Sam through Flourish and Blots, nearly dragging Sam away from a few fascinating new releases. Castiel surreptitiously bought one of them and whispered to Sam that he could borrow it any time. Soon Sam had also visited the apothecary and the cauldron shop and he could tell that Dean was counting ever penny.
"Right, so we've used most of your funds, but there's just the wand left so…" Dean frowned. "Well, they have some cheap ones if you ask… it might not… fit you quite as well, but I've managed."
Sam almost didn't notice the wand shop. It was a bit dark and shabby, the name Ollivanders written in peeling paint above inscrutable windows. Across the street were the bright umbrellas of an ice cream parlor, which seemed to draw Dean's attention considerably.
"Hold on a tick. We're taking a little detour," Dean grinned and tugged Sam over towards the cheerfully bright umbrellas.
A man sat beneath one of them, his faded and ragged robes clashing with the vivid pink of the umbrellas stripes. He had a broad bearded face, with tired lines etched into it.
"Bobby!" Dean cried. The older man looked up from his book and his face broke into a fond smile.
"Don't bother me now ya idjit, can't you see I'm busy?" He grumbled pleasantly, his accent clearly American.
"I want you to meet, Sammy, er, Sam, my little brother. Sam, this is Professor Singer," Dean presented Sam. "He'll be a first year, so, you know, go easy on him."
Dean slid the bottle he'd stolen from the Leaky Cauldron onto the table next to Bobby who eyed it favorably.
"If you expect me to accept this crap as a bribe, boy, you are dumber than you look. You're lucky your brother already seems like a genius in comparison," Bobby replied and stowed the bottle inside one the huge pockets of his robe. Sam couldn't help but smile. There was something delightful about the old professor's façade of misanthropy.
Suddenly, Dean's eyes widened as a dark haired girl came out of the store next door, laughing with her friend. Sam raised his eyebrows sardonically.
"Sam, are you okay getting that wand by yourself?" Dean said, distractedly shoving the remaining money into Sam's hand then dashing off. Sam barely had time to nod before he realized he had no idea what the bizarre coins were worth.
Cas sidled up to the table and sighed.
"Lisa Braeden again. The new Ravenclaw seeker," He lamented.
"It might do him some good to stop chasing tail and actually learn something this year," Bobby agreed with a sage nod.
"At least he always comes top in your class. A real natural at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Castiek pointed out.
"Kid could be an auror if he'd just apply himself a bit for the O.W.L.s," Said Bobby, shaking his head. "And if his dad wasn't-"
Bobby cut himself off and gave Sam a tight smile. Sam, tired of words being thrown around that he had no comprehension of, bid them farewell and headed over into the wand shop.
Sam took a deep breath and looked up. Surrounded by new things, overwhelmed by new people, and completely alone, Sam Winchester suddenly did not feel magical at all.