Dean ripped open the letter quickly. Sam had moved closer to Dean, eagerly, but the older boy had taken no notice.

Dean would never tell Sam, but he was worried. He was worried about being cooped up with these wizards, weaponless; worried about going to a magical school; and on top of it all, he was worried about his father. He knew he shouldn't be, that he should be angry at Dad, like Sam was, but when he thought about Dad leaving them, there was only an icy cold hurt in his chest- and more worry. It had only been a day since he'd left, and Dean knew his father was a grown man, a ex-marine, nonetheless, but Dean liked to be there to back the older man up, in case he ever got hurt, which in Dean's defense, happened a lot.

As he observed John's hand writing, a warm hope shot through him. Maybe Dad was alright, maybe all of Dean's worry and pain was for nothing, maybe Dad was coming back…

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Boys,

I'm not coming back. This isn't how I planned this hunt, but maybe it's for your own good. You're gonna have to start jobs on your own sooner or later.

Dumbledore told me that using owls to send letters isn't safe anymore, don't really see how it ever was in the first place, but he did something magically to this bird so no one could intercept it. This is a one time thing- no more letters after this- so listen the hell up, and burn this paper when you're finished reading it. I'm on our demon's ass. I'm gonna get him this time.

The demon you're hunting is one bad S.O.B. I just got off the phone with Bobby and he says England is filled with signs of demonic activity- electrical storms, animal mutilations, people missing- so keep your eyes open. This is your first demon hunt since that girl in Ohio five years ago, so remember- salt, holy water, and Latin exorcisms are your best bet.

Sammy- You better have memorized that exorcism I taught you or you and your brother are screwed to hell. Dean- look after your brother and find that goddamn demon. When you get to that wizard school, Dumbledore will have everything you need to find and kill this thing. Don't screw it up. And don't let anything happen to the Potter kid.

Trust Dumbledore only. Everyone else is open for possession.

Dad

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Dean felt it stab through him again- the hurt. Only this time, it was more intensified. Dad wasn't coming back.

He crumpled the letter into his fist as he slammed his hand onto the wooden table. Harry, Hermione, and Sam jumped. He left the letter there for Sam to read and paced around the kitchen like a caged animal. Dad wasn't coming back. Dean and Sam had never been on a demon hunt on their own. And now they were supposed to do all this by themselves? Their dad expected too freaking much from them- and although Dean was hurting and was nervous to be on such an important hunt without his father, he'd do exactly what Dad said anyway.

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Sam finished their father's letter. He wasn't surprised, but he could see that Dean was. Dad was obsessed with the demon that killed his Mary; he wouldn't abandon a potential lead on the monster just to help his sons- even if their lives depended on it.

Had Dean really thought that John would come back to help them? His whole life Sam had thought his older brother was always right about everything. He'd always thought that Dean was better looking, stronger, and smarter- but now Sam was seriously questioning Dean's intelligence. Maybe Dean wasn't perfect after all…

Whatever momentary mental breakdown Dean had been having ended. His face was smooth and carefree yet again. "Well, I guess Dad's not coming back." he announced to Harry and Hermione, who he seemed to just remember existed. "So it looks like we're taking care of this damned demon on our own, huh Sammy?"

Sam looked into his older brother's face, a cool untroubled mask. How did Dean push his emotions away like that? Sam cleared his throat. He realized the three of them were still staring at him, waiting for a response. "Guess so." he threw out, unsure of how to handle the situation.

"Is your father alright?" Hermione asked, tentatively.

When Dean didn't answer, Sam explained. "I'm sure he's fine. He got called away to another hunt, but he trusts we can take care of this hunt on our own." Lie. Dad didn't trust them on their own- it was just convenient for him to have his sons stay while he went away to pursue his revenge. It saddened Sam how easily untrue things poured from his mouth now. Lying was part of the job, and over the years he'd gotten good at it. Dean was better, and once upon a time Sam thought that meant Dean was a better person because of that, but now…

"Harry?" a Mrs. Weasley's voice called from the upstairs. "Harry, are you down there, dear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley. So are Hermione, Sam and Dean." Harry called back.

"Oh," she didn't sound too happy. "Well then I suppose… I suppose you should all come up here then."

Sam looked to Harry, who shrugged. "Let's go find out."

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Going up the stairs, Harry heard the sound of hurried and hushed voices and the clinking sounds of metal and the scrape of leather.

Dean, obviously sensing trouble, put a finger to his lips, pushed around Harry, and peeked through the door first. His muscles slackened from their stiff tension, and he nodded that the coast was clear.

They stepped out into the open area to find Sirius, Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley hurriedly placing various objects into two chests that they had apparently opened.

"Sam! Dean," Mr. Weasley exclaimed, looking up from the group's task. The two other adults also glanced up, guiltily.

"What's up?" Dean asked, frowning at the two opened boxes.

The adults looked to one another sheepishly. "Well, these boxes came addressed to you," Mr. Weasley admitted. "And we want to trust you- we really do- but we can't take any chances when it comes to safety."

Harry glanced at Sam, who looked torn between anger, and amusement. "So you opened our mail?"

Sirius gave an abashed grin. "Well… we like you boys well enough, but we're still suspicious of you. Then we saw all this odd rubbish and we had to take a closer look." Harry saw with surprise and horror as his godfather carelessly extended his arm and shook a gun in his hands. "What in the name of Merlin is this?"

Sam and Dean immediately went into protective mode, fluidly, they shoved Harry and Hermione behind them, ignored the "Hey, wait guys-" that came from Harry, and put out their hands in defense.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, there, Sirius," Sam said calmly.

Dean's approach was harsher. "Put the gun down before we make you, man," Dean stated, his eyes glinting dangerously.

Sirius looked alarmed by their sudden reaction. "What?" he gasped. "This thing's a weapon?" repulsed, he dropped it to the ground. Harry heard a light metallic 'click' and then a huge 'BANG' went off.

The noise made everyone cringe.

Someone darted in front of him as he heard Mrs. Weasley yelp, Sirius grunt, and Mrs. Black's portrait begin to scream.

When Harry looked up again, Sam was using his long arms and body to shield Harry and Hermione, and Dean had rolled to the ground to gather the gun. He opened a compartment and looked inside. He sighed. "Just rock salt." He announced to Sam, who visibly relaxed. "Still, what kind of a freakin' idiot mails a loaded pistol?"

Mr. Weasley got up from his crouch, and to his feet, and magically closed the curtains on Mrs. Black's portrait. The vase behind Sirius' head had exploded from being shot by the pellets of salt, and he used his wand to repair it.

Mr. Weasley turned back around, amusement in his eyes. "So that's a gun!" he went to Dean. "I've seen them in pictures but I've never seen one up close. Are they the same sort of weapon that Please-men use?"

Whatever reaction Dean had been expecting, it wasn't this. "Excuse me?" he asked, blinking several times.

Harry felt his face redden despite himself. "I-I think Mr. Weasley means, 'police men', Dean."

Dean's face hardened, and then looked puzzled. He asked no one in particular, "Huh. Sirius almost shoots someone, and you're asking questions like nothing's happened?" He decided not to answer Mr. Weasley and instead unloaded the rounds in the pistol, put the gun in the waistband of his jeans, and threw white bullets back into the box. He pulled a hand down his anxious face. "Let's not do that again, ok?" he said, patiently to the adults.

Sam approached the other box. He rummaged through it, and smiled at some various objects. "Looks like we'll have everything we need, Dean," Sam told his brother. "Look- a sawed-off, just like mine back home, a Glock in the model I like, a machete, shotguns, holy water, a whole bunch of amulets- what's in yours?"

Dean stared at his brother incredulously. "What's with you? Do you think it's Christmas or somethin'?" He shook his head, but pulled a shiny silver gun out of the pile, and grinned at it. It looked like it belonged in his hands. "A .45," he inspected it, and tried out it weight. "Not as good as mine, but pretty good." That gun went in a belt loop in his jeans.

Sirius looked back and forth from brother to brother. "No hard feelings, boys?" he asked cautiously.

The Winchester brothers looked happier and more at ease around the weapons, and they both waved Sirius off. "No hard feelings, man," "Don't worry about it,".

Mrs. Weasley had her hand to her chest. "Why would Dumbledore send you boys, weapons?" she gasped.

Dean looked over at her, holding two long knives, happily. "You guys have your magic sticks; we have our guns and sharp toys…"

"What are these?" Sam said suddenly, holding up a long black robe.

Dean laughed loudly. "Dude, somebody got you a dress?!"

"That's the Hogwarts uniform." Hermione told them.

Dean and Sam stared hard at her. "What?" they both gaped, simultaneously.

Harry chuckled as well. "Yeah, the Hogwarts uniform is black robes."

Dean shook his head. "Oh hell no," he reached into his box and pulled out robes his size. "I'd rather take on fifty demons than be seen in a freakin' robe!"

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It was the day before he, Sam, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children were off to Hogwarts, so Mrs. Weasley had gone to a place called Diagon Alley to pick up the school supplies everyone needed, and had prepared a big farewell dinner, which was also a congratulatory dinner for Hermione and Ron, because they had both been selected to be school prefects.

The basement had been decorated with banners that said "CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE- NEW PREFECTS" and Mrs. Weasley was laying full dishes out on the wooden table.

Almost the whole gang from the first day was there- Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, Remus Lupin, the Weasley family, Harry, Sirius, and Hermione- everyone except Dumbledore and the butt-hole called Snape.

As Dean and Sam went down the stairs, Dean noticed that pink-haired Tonks fumbled with a stack of ceramic plates, and Dean reached out and caught her just before the plates toppled from her hands. "Thank you, Dean!" she gasped breathlessly. "I would have Banished them to the table, but I wasn't sure I could make them re-appear without chipping them… I'm kind of a klutz…"

Dean had no idea what Banished meant, but he got the gist that it was something to do with magic. He nodded like he understood anyway. "'It's no problem." he assured her.

She sighed, relieved, as she placed down the plates. "So, are you excited about going to Hogwarts?"

Dean shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Doesn't make a difference to me. Do you go there?- 'cause it'll make a difference then…"

Dean knew she liked him when she laughed. "You're adorable, Dean. No I graduated about… six years ago?"

He raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. Tonks looked about his age, but she had to be at least twenty-three or twenty-four. So he confessed his surprise.

She grinned again. "I can look however I want, Dean," she explained. Suddenly, Tonks' face began to change. He watched, halfway between horror and fascination as she turned into somebody who looked very much like Ginny.

"You're a shape-shifter?" he gasped, wishing he had checked his new weapons for silver bullets- even though he knew he wouldn't be able to kill her. But she couldn't have been a shape-shifter like the ones he'd seen. She transformed quickly, gracefully, extremely unlike the normal shifters that tore their skin off.

"We magical folk prefer the term, 'Metamorphamagus'. But yes, I guess you could say I'm a shape-shifter."

"Wow." Dean said, scratching his head. "I've actually never met a chick shape- I mean Metamorpha-whatever, before… so you can change your body into whatever you want it to look like?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

She smirked, and slowly she morphed into a taller woman with curves in all of Dean's favorite places. Long, golden, wavy locks tumbled down to her mid-drift and her eyes were melted into a deep blue. "Or whatever you want it to look like…" she whispered.

Dean's eyes widened and he had to gulp before he could choke out, "Kinky…"

Tonks giggled again, and transformed back into her normal pink, spiky haired self- though Dean noticed with satisfaction, that she might have left a little more curviness from the blonde's body on her. When she walked away, Dean noticed it more- and he grinned. Tonks may have been a klutz, but she was a fun girl…

************************************************************************

Sam quickly slinked away from the flirting Dean and Tonks, and made his way over toward Ron, who was fiddling gloomily with his new Prefect badge.

"Hey," Sam greeted, sitting beside the youngest Weasley boy. Ron looked up at him and nodded in acknowledgement. Well, so much for stimulating conversation… thought Sam.

"So because you're a prefect, does that mean you're at the top of your class?" Sam asked, hoping for a response.

Ron frowned. "Well, no, not really…" he admitted. "I mean, Hermione's definitely at the top of our class, but I thought…"

"Thought what?" Sam pressed. Ron had definitely not been as open and welcoming as the rest of the inhabitants of Grimmuald Place. Maybe the boy would finally open up to him.

"It's nothing. It's just-" Ron lowered his voice. "Harry's my best mate, we're close- like brothers. And I don't know why I'm telling you this and if you tell anyone I swear-"

"I'm pretty practiced at keeping secrets," Sam admitted.

Ron seemed satisfied with his answer. "It's just- I've always been jealous of him. He's on the Quidditch team, he's famous, and he's definitely smarter. He's also Dumbledore's favorite student- and yet I got chosen to be Prefect. How is that possible?"

Sam was surprised. He and Ron were living similar scenarios. "You think it's a fluke? You think you getting picked for Prefect was a mistake?"

Ron shrugged. "I guess…"

Sam shook his head. "I can't say I know much about this particular instance, but I know for sure that you're being too hard on yourself. Dumbledore obviously saw something in you that Harry doesn't have. I don't wanna get all emotional on you or anything," he said laughing. "But you're not Harry, and you don't have to be like him and you're not gonna be treated like him. And maybe in some cases that's a good thing."

Sam and Ron continued to talk for the rest of the evening. They both had a lot in common. And Sam finally decided that night that maybe it was time to follow his own advice.

************************************************************************

Dean had to pee. He'd drank one too many of these amazing drinks called 'Butterbeers', and although they contained no real beer, they were addicting just the same; which is why he had to pee.

He hurried up the stairs and almost turned to the bathroom when he heard an odd familiar sound. Somebody was crying.

Dean stopped short and turned. "Hello?" he called in a loud whisper. Nobody answered, and the crying continued. Dean pulled the .45 from his jeans and with a quick expertise loaded it with salt rounds. He tiptoed toward the sound and peeked in through the door where the pitiful noise came from.

Mrs. Weasley was backed up against the dark wall, tears streaming down her red grief-stricken face. Her wand was pointed at a body on the ground- it was her red-headed son, Ron.

Dean burst through the door, sending old paint-chips flying, and aimed the gun at her. She killed her son, she killed her son. She killed her son?

The woman yelped in surprise at Dean.

"What the hell did you do?" he bellowed at her.

She sniffed and let out another choked sob. "Oh, oh," she gasped, covering her mouth.

There was a loud resounding CRACK, which was not unlike a gunshot, and Dean looked down at the body again, which had changed into a different, older boy.

Mrs. Weasley dropped her wand and fell to her knees. "Bill!" she cried.

CRACK. The body changed into a dead Mr. Weasley. CRACK. The body was dead Ginny. CRACK. The body was dead Harry.

Two and two clicked in Dean's head: this was a supernatural creature he was familiar with- it was a Boggart…

"Mrs. Weasley, stand back!" Dean ordered.

Mrs. Weasley obeyed, and Dean stepped up to face the monster. He knew it would turn into his worst fear, and he was well aware of what that fear was, but when it appeared he wasn't ready for it.

CRACK. The long lanky form of Sammy lay sprawled on his back, collapsed on the ground. He was bleeding from the chest, he was choking, gasping, dying- "Dean…" the dying Sam said, lifting a bloodied hand toward his brother. "Dean this is all your fault…"

Dean's breath hitched in his throat. He'd seen this fear played out in his head a thousand times in nightmares, but that didn't make it any easier.

Boggart-Sam's eyes flashed a demonic black. "Sammy's dead!" it jeered. "And it's all your fault!" it laughed manically, a harsh, cold, evil laugh. That's when Dean shot it three times with his gun. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

The salt rounds left a layer of white powder hovering in the air. When it finally cleared, the Boggart was gone.

Dean let out a deep breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and turned to see Mrs. Weasley gaping at him.

Dean heard furious pounding on the stairs and then Lupin, Moody, Sirius and Harry ran through the open door. "What's going on here?" Lupin panted.

"It's ok," Dean explained, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off.

"It was the Boggart, Remus." She explained. "The one Mad-Eye told me was up here. I thought I could handle it on my own, b-but, b-but…"

Suddenly Mrs. Weasley began sobbing again, and she chose to cry on the nearest shoulder- which just so happened to be Dean's. She buried her tear-stained face in his arm, and he stood there, shell-shocked, not sure as to what to do.

"I see them dead all time!" she moaned. "Even when I dream!"

Dean patted her awkwardly on the back. Women usually didn't cry on him…

"And then, then Dean came," Mrs. Weasley's sob's were slowing down. "And he took on the Boggart himself. Without a wand…" she realized she was making Dean uncomfortable, moved away, and then looked up at the oldest Winchester with admiration. "I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for you- thank you, Dean,"

"It's no problem, Mrs. Weasley," he told her, trying to smile, but he, like her was still shaken.

She knew his worst fear now, and he knewshe could see the hurt lingering in his eyes. "How about you and I make a cup of tea? Or coffee, rather?" she suggested, beaming up and him while wiping the wet from her eyes.

Dean nodded. "I'd like that."

For the rest of the night, Dean was doted on by Mrs. Weasley, like a son.

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I'm sorry this chapter took so long- I had a lot of artwork that needed to be dont. I actually didn't finish the art work- but writing this is more fun.

I've actually been thinking about the Tonks scene and Mrs. Weasley/Boggart scene since the very begining of this fic- I quite like how it turned out- but I'd really like to know what you guys think.

Questions? Comments? Suggestions? I'm all ears. Just press the review button! :)