Chapter 11: Ice and Mirrors

Gusts of wind sent snow swirling down around the castle windows, settling in drifts on the windowsills. Sam wiped uselessly at the glass with his hand, peering through the glaze of ice to spot the slightly distorted chain of students piling into carriages on their way to the Hogsmeade station.

Anxiously, Sam rummaged through his bag, counting and recounting the flasks of potion Ruby had prepared for him before she left for the holiday. He could feel himself getting stronger with every drop and the idea of running out filled him with revulsion.

An owl flashed past the window, soaring until it was just a faint speck over the lake. The flow of students returning home had slowed to a trickle. Sam grinned, the thrill of having the castle almost entirely to himself for the holiday too much to resist. Leaning his cheek against the icy glass, he gleefully imagined the snowball fights to come.

As the last few students piled into their carriage, Sam leapt up from the window seat, completely forgetting about his bag and its precious contents. He sailed down the stairs from his dormitory into the deserted Ravenclaw common room, and then dashed off towards the Gryffindor common room.

The Gryffindor common room's entrance was marked by a portrait of a stout woman in a glorious satiny dress, and instead of solving a puzzle, she only required a password. When Sam panted up in front of her she cast him a critical glance.

"Password?" She asked.

"Audi Nos," Sam answered. The fat lady raised an eyebrow.

"Very well then," She pouted and swung forward, revealing the entrance. Sam stepped through into the Gryffindor common room. The Gryffindors had a cozier common room than the Ravenclaws, with a lower ceiling and large squashy armchairs crammed together into little circles.

"Come on guys, hurry up!" Sam urged Dean and Cas who were seated in two of the armchairs struggling into winter boots.

"I do not understand this enthusiasm for rolling in the snow. We spend most of our time avoiding it, and now suddenly it is time for a winter romp," Castiel said blandly, a hint of grumpiness creeping into his reasonable tone.

"Missing the point, Cas," Dean said, hauling himself to his feet. "The whole idea is to get as wet and cold as you possibly can."

"Says the one who spent half an hour learning a spell to make self-heating socks," Castiel shot back.

"I'd like to keep all my toes, thanks!" Dean squawked.

"Guys, snow!" Sam said, irritated with the squabbling and eager to leave.

Dean and Castiel stomped clumsily after Sam as he bolted back through the portrait hole. With their feet awkwardly large in winter boots, they clumsily stumbled down the stairs until they burst into the entrance hall. Gordon Walker poked his head out of a broom cupboard when he heard the commotion and scowled at them.

"If any of you gets your snowy footprints on this floor when you're done, you'll be mopping all night," he threatened and retreated.

Sam gave a long sigh and Dean raised an eyebrow at him.

"Don't worry Sammy, he's only grumpy because I almost impaled him with a Christmas tree last week," Dean grinned. "Don't see why he's so upset, I was just overcome with festive energy."

The grounds of Hogwarts were a uniform sheet of white, rolling drifts and unmarked fields of pure white. Sam charged out into it, stomping footprints into the smooth surface. He barely had time to dive to the ground before the first of Dean's snowballs sailed over his head.

Shrieking with laughter, Sam crawled away from the assault; frantically patting out his own snowballs and flinging them wildly back at Dean.

The fight lasted until they were so cold and exhausted that they both collapsed into the cushiony crush of snow beneath them. Castiel lay a few feet away, flat on his back. Slowly he flapped his arms and legs, leaving his shape imprinted onto the ground.

The trio finally staggered back inside after a few hours completely soaked and nearly frozen. Sam's teeth were chattering so hard he was nearly incoherent and Dean's fingers only regained a full range of motion after several hours in front of the roaring fire of the Gryffindor common room.

All three of them stripped off their robes so that they could dry and sat on the floor in shorts and thin cotton shirts. Castiel shuffled up to his room and returned with a game of exploding snap, which they played for hours.

When Sam began to yawn uncontrollably, Dean hustled him back to fetch his pajamas from Ravenclaw tower, but let him share his bed that night. Sam slept deeply and dreamlessly, listening to the soft sounds of his brother's breathing and the snow swirling past the window.

When Sam awoke on Christmas morning Dean was already awake.

"Sammy, kill the beauty rest and open these!" Dean grinned and chucked a few wrapped parcels onto Sam's chest. Grunting with discomfort, Sam struggled upright and looked blearily down at the packages.

"What about yours?" He asked. Dean shrugged.

"Couldn't wait. Quidditch books from Cas, cauldron cakes from the Harvelles, and a few muggle books from Bobby." Dean said, planting himself in front of Sam and offering him a cauldron cake. Sam's eyebrows shot up when he saw the incredible number of presents in front of him.

Tearing open his package from Bobby first Sam discovered a beautiful little chess set with delicate moving pieces. Dean whistled, impressed.

"You'll have to convince Cas to play a game later; that's really nice." Dean said, pleased but a little alarmed at the luxurious gift. "Mine's here."

Dean's shoddily wrapped package contained an assortment of candybars, a new quill, and what appeared to be a collection of stolen motel soap. Dean smiled a little nervously and scratched the back of his neck.

"It's not much, really, I just thought you might need-" Sam cut him off with a hug.

"Thank you. It's perfect." Sam whispered into his brother's ear, then turned to the next package. The Harvelles had sent him an enormous box of baked goods including homemade mince pies and chocolate frogs.

"Cas, are you up?" Sam called, poking his head around the post of the bed. Castiel was crouched next to a nearby bed, shoving an enormous stack of presents behind his bed. Fumbling a little, Castiel turned and tossed a very obviously broom shaped package over his shoulder.

"Yes, uh, just a moment," Castiel said. Sam couldn't help but grin a little. He'd hardly ever seen Castiel so flustered and his obvious embarrassment with his family's riches was rather touching.

"Here, open this one," Dean said stiffly, handing Sam a soft parcel. "It's from dad. He's still thinking of us, I guess."

Sam tore open the brown paper and discovered a luridly pink sweater. Dean snorted a little. Sam gave him a skeptical glare.

"Well, you know dad, always a joker," Dean grinned weakly.

"Who did you steal it from?" Sam asked tiredly.

"No one! I swear it came in the mail!" Dean protested, and then drooped a little. "… Someone else's mail, maybe."

"Look, it's ok that he didn't send anything," Sam muttered. "I'd rather he didn't. At home it was always just guns or knives or he just didn't show up."

Dean stared glumly down at the sweater and nodded wordlessly. Slowly, he reached over and stuffed the sweater under the bed and out of sight.

"Will you be opening mine next? I understand it is traditional for me to observe your reactions," Castiel said, appearing suddenly at the end of the bed. His face portrayed nothing but reverential seriousness, but his eyes betrayed a twinkle of humor.

Sam tore open the last gift and gasped to discover and enormous leather bond book entitled 'Hogwarts: A History'.

"It's comprehensive. I thought it would be of interest to you," Castiel offered, nervously gesturing to the book.

"It's incredible, thank you!" Sam cried. For a moment it seemed like Castiel might hug him, but they both shied away abruptly and settled for a sort of passionate handshake.

"Alright you two, enough off that. Get dressed so we can go get some food," Dean rolled his eyes at them.

"Brilliant, I'm starved," Castiel said and dashed back to his own four-poster. Dean leaned over to his trunk to pull out a pair of robes, but Sam hesitated.

"Actually, I've got one more thing for you," He whispered as Dean rummaged through a pile of clothing. "Bobby gave it to me for dad, but… I'd rather you had it."

From his bag, Sam removed a little parcel wrapped in newspaper. Dean stared down at it, then looked up and met Sam's eyes. His face looked strangely unguarded as he accepted the parcel. Gently he unwrapped it, and then held up the contents.

A little golden amulet gleamed in the pale light from the window. Dean touched it softly then slipped the cord over his head.

"Thank you, Sam," Dean said, his voice a little distant and overwhelmed, "I love it."

"Yeah, happy Christmas," Sam said, blushing a little and then busying himself with finding clothes.

Very few students had stayed for Christmas holiday that year and the great hall was consolidated down to one table where students and staff alike sat together. Sam knew very few of the other students who had stayed, only vaguely recognizing Bela Talbot. Dean managed to eat an enormous plate of bangers and mash, complaining all the while about how many of Ellen Harvelle's caldron cakes he had eaten that morning.

They spent the rest of the day quietly, sitting in the Gryffindor common room and enjoying one another's company. Castiel beat Sam several times at Wizard Chess, but Sam's losses took more and more time as he got the hand of commanding the delicate moving pieces. Sam scanned through the absolutely fascinating 'Hogwarts: a History' while Dean ate half of Castiel's massive trove of Christmas candy.

Dinner that night was small and festive. The kitchens had prepared an enormous goose and a selection of crackers were spread across the table. Sam jumped in his seat, spilling gravy down his robes, when an enormous dove burst from inside of the cracker he'd just pulled.

After the enormous dinner Sam began to feel very warm and sleepy, leaning back in his chair wrapped in a comfortably snug sweater. His eyes fluttered shut several times as he tried to pay attention to the conversation and when he let out a series of impressive yawns, Dean ruled that it was time to go to bed.

"Would you like to stay over again…?" Dean asked uncertainly. He still wore his amulet and kept brushing his fingers over it when he spoke.

"It's fine, I'll sleep in my bed tonight," Sam yawned as he slid out of his chair and stretched. For some reason his head was starting to ache and his mouth felt dry and sticky. Blaming on the candy, he shook himself out of the stupor and headed upstairs.

"Well, goodnight then. Happy Christmas," Dean smiled and pulled Sam into a one armed hug. Sam nodded and then headed upstairs towards bed.

As he climbed the dimly lit staircase, torchlight flickering over the walls, the hair on Sam's neck began to prickle. A cool draft swept through the stairwell and he shivered. He felt unsteady somehow, as though he was just slightly out of sync with the rest of the world.

"Probably just too tired," He said aloud, his voice echoing through the empty castle. He shivered again.

Suddenly he found himself running, hurtling up the stairs two at a time. He nearly punched the wall when the eagle-shaped knocker demanded that he explain what was lost without being stolen and what could come without being brought. He paced back and forth frantically for a moment, nearly incoherent with inexplicable rage. Finally, when he'd calmed himself down enough to think straight he spat out an answers.

"Stars."

The door swung open and Sam scrambled through it, pounding up the stairs into the dormitory and flinging himself down onto the bed. He seized his bag and threw the contents out in front of him. Then, seizing the flask he downed the sticky red potion in a long gulp then lay back on the bed and sighed.

Sam took a deep breath, both terrified of the effect it had on him and desperately thankful. Then he rolled slowly to his feet and walked as though in a dream to the seventh floor corridor. Standing by the tapestry, Sam squeezed his eyes shut and wished for fear. His hand found the knob and he walked into the darkness.

A wave of cold washed over him as he entered the room, stepping past the spell the guarded the students from the effect. Yet the cold did not paralyze him, didn't sap his strength. The potion burned inside of him, making him feel oddly numb and disconnected from his body.

Sam reached out a hand and pointed. His hand shook with strain, but at least his nose did not fountain blood as it had the first few times. Slowly, the cloaked figures glided out from the corners of the room.

Satisfied, Sam twirled around, letting the shadows dance around him. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he caught of glimpse of something bright gleaming in the darkness.

He stopped, staggering slightly with the momentum. Brushing a few shadows aside, he moved towards the glimmer, which shifted and wavered as he moved towards it. Abruptly Sam realized he was standing in front of a mirror.

He stared into his own eyes, puzzled. The face he gazed at was his, yet subtle differences betrayed the image as a not entirely true mirror. The face that shimmered in the dim glass hovered a few inches taller than Sam's. The hair lay smoothly across the forehead, and the mouth curled faintly.

Sam's eyes roamed over the mirror. The landscape expanding behind the other Sam was green and pastoral. A well-manicured garden led up to a cozy two-story house with a puff of smoke floating above the chimney. The other Sam waved over a group of bright-faced children who threw their arms around him, laughing silently. One of them was Dean, his face free of worry or pain, bouncing a football on his head. Hovering in the doorway stood a beautiful blonde woman, waving and beckoning.

Tears pricked in Sam's eyes as he recognized her. His mother. No longer a crumpled, hazy photograph, but real, glowing woman.

His vision rapidly blurring, Sam stretched out a hand and pressed it to the cool, impassable glass. He knelt before the mirror, closed his eyes, pressed his forehead against the smooth surface, and wept.