(December 30, 2020) Aaaand cue the end of this nightmarish year. If it wants to skip tomorrow that's fine with me.

I've recently become a Warcraft player. I'm going to use that as an excuse of why I took so long to write this (even though I only started playing in November). Also, this website's mobile app has gotten insanely stupid regarding story uploads. No formatting is carrying over. Someone fix it! Now! Go go go go go!

Also the show is done and I am now officially sad. I'm surprised at the fanbase response, however. It's almost as bad as the Game of Thrones debates (lots of evidence of Daenerys being quasi-evil btw). Look, they couldn't do the big player ending because of the pandemic… and other stuff I'm not going to mention because it occurs to me maybe not everyone has seen it. I have a buttload of complaints regarding season 12 on, but I think the last few episodes mostly redeemed them.

Anyhoo, little messages always welcome! They keep a writer's heart happy. Thank you Dark-Supernatural-Angel, ngregory763, TimS1982 (request granted), and TurboKid95 for the reviews! And everyone favoriting and following gets tickles on their lightning shaped scars!

The Occlumency lessons arranged between Sam, Snape, and Harry worked out well enough. Snape would teach Sam, Sam would teach Harry, and Harry would spend an interminable number of hours feeling a tickle under his scar. Thankfully, Castiel's promise to monitor his dreams saved the boy from any further nighttime strolls down what he realized was the Hall of Mysteries. He just had to contend with them during the day.

"Harry? Harry? Harry!"

Harry let out a groan, sat up, and snapped, "What?"

"Class is over," Hermione replied quietly. "Are you all right?"

Harry rubbed his forehead with one sweaty palm. He'd been going down a flight of stone steps, skirting past a black door, following Mr. Weasley through a hallway… "No."

With a muttered deprecation Hermione heaved herself and her friend up from their desks. She glanced over at Professor Binns and was relieved to find the ghost already asleep. "Come on, before somebody sees."

They stumbled out of the History of Magic classroom into a full corridor of chattering students. Now masked by the noise, Hermione felt free to ask, "Was it the same place again?"

Harry nodded. "I don't even remember falling asleep."

"That's because you almost fell over right when Professor Binns started talking about Salem. Really, you missed an important lecture!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry growled. "Next time I'll tell Voldemort to keep his bloody walkabouts to himself!"

A bubble of quiet surrounded the pair for a moment. Frightened students stared, horrified, at the foolhardy idiot willing to speak You-Know-Who's name with impunity. Once they realized it was Potter, eyes were rolled and talking resumed.

"Hey!" called Professor Winchester from down the hall. "Harry!"

Hermione and Harry waved. The Professor's extraordinary height made him stick out amongst the throng. That, coupled with his status as an authority figure, allowed Harry and Hermione to swim easily through their fellow students to where their teacher was waiting. "Yes, Professor?"

"Just wanted to check in with you." The man's eyes darted from Hermione then back to Harry. "I heard you're having some issues."

Harry did his best not to let his temper break. It was one thing for Hermione to be bugging him and another for her to be bugging others. "I'm fine," he managed to utter through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure? Because I heard, um…" The Professor waved his hand around at the dispersing crowd. "That."

Harry sighed. "Can we talk about it later?"

His teacher's brow furrowed in concern. "Yeah, yeah. For sure. Anytime, okay?"

"Sam!" yelled an annoyed voice. "We doing this or not?"

Both Harry and Hermione looked uneasily at Meg. She had yet to show any signs of being evil, but it was hard not think of her as anything but. "Are you really going to use her in a lesson, Professor?" Hermione asked timidly.

Professor Winchester sighed. "Always best to have a prop… no matter how bitchy she is," he muttered as he turned away.

The pair of students followed. At least, thought Harry, there was no chance of falling asleep in the DADA classroom. It was the one place in the castle where it might actually be fatal.

With Umbridge monitoring nearly every class, Dean was forced to be elsewhere during the lesson. Castiel, however, was a good enough deterrent against possible demonic misbehavior. "Remember," he warned Meg, "no killing."

"Aw, Clarence," she crooned. She tilted her head and flipped her re-blackened hair. "You afwaid of widdle ol' me?"

"No, I'm afraid of you murdering children."

"What about that?"

The demon pointed to the corner where the pink-clad monstrosity sat demurely, quill and parchment in hand. Castiel thought for a moment. "If you do it is not to be in front of the students."

"Cass," Sam sighed. "Just… the two of you? Leave it— her alone."

Meg's lips twisted in a smirk. Honestly, for once, Sam couldn't fault her for feeling murderous. From what he'd been hearing Umbridge's omnipresence in both Hagrid and Trelawney's classrooms was frazzling both professors. The Head of Curriculum was remarkably adept at ferreting out her victims' weaknesses, with Hagrid being subjected to a barrage of complicated questions and Trelawney being asked to prove her precognitive abilities over and over again. As a result, according to Harry, Hagrid hadn't shown any creature more exciting than a crup (which was hardly larger than Sam's shoe) while Dean let it slip that Trelawney had stolen a bottle of whiskey from their room.

Meg didn't care one way or the other for the jittery Divination Professor, but she was oddly sweet on Hagrid. Cass thought she was glomming onto a possible ally against her future endeavors against Crowley; apparently being half-giant made him invulnerable to a good number of spells. Moreover, Hagrid hadn't flinched when the demon had flashed him black eyes, and she'd been suitably impressed by the man's size. When questioned about her intentions, however, Meg merely gave extraordinarily explicit queries about the half-giant's endowment.

With a sigh, Sam comforted himself with the thought that Meg still couldn't leave the castle walls. He could imagine the apoplexy Hagrid would have if the demon tried to make good on her promise to "ride that man like a Clydesdale." "Just stick to what we talked about, Meg."

"Aw, Sammy. You can always count on little ol' me."

The final student had taken their seat and the noise was slowly diminishing. "All right!" Sam called, quieting the final few stragglers. He waited a few moments for Malfoy to stop sniggering (probably about something either vindictive or just plain mean) before continuing. "Last week we covered the difference between magical demons and demon demons. Now we can see the differences firsthand."

Castiel tugged the cloth covering their borrowed aquatic tank. Its watery inhabitants were alternatively sulking and glowering at the angel who'd captured them (and had given them a rather stern lecture about behaving while in the classroom). "Grindylows," Sam said. He noted how Harry's face twitched at the sight of them. "In Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Scamander classifies them as 'water demons'. Your society uses the terms 'demon' and 'dark magical creatures' interchangeably, but true demons are something else all together."

"Hem, hem."

"Are you ill?" Castiel asked, unerringly making the same query every time the woman made her distinctive call for attention. Several students had begun mouthing the question along with him.

"No, I am not!" Umbridge snapped. Her response during the past few weeks had gone from polite, to condescending, to irritated, and was now tipping into furious. She took a few moments to calm herself before saying, "I merely wish to continue my objection to this lesson unit."

"What's the bitch going on about?" Meg asked Sam.

"She thinks it's too dangerous," he replied as Umbridge squawked wordlessly at the profanity. "But like I said before," Sam said loudly, "they need to know."

Seeing that she was going to be ignored, Umbridge quieted and began writing furiously on her parchment. Another day, another notice from Hogwart's Board for Dumbledore to shred for Fawkes' perch. At least she hadn't tried to take over the lesson again. Just a glance at the shotgun Sam had taken to keeping on his desk was enough to deter her.

Hermione rose her hand. "But our demons are, well, obviously not human. How are we expected to tell the difference by only looking at them?"

"You can't," Sam stated. "That's the problem. So instead, we've got those other methods. Anyone remember what they were?"

Hermione's hand shot up again. "Their eyes."

"The only obvious sign." Sam nodded at Meg. She rolled her eyes, but did as she was asked, purposefully blinking to cover her gaze with black. Several students gasped.

"But they don't walk around like that," Sam continued. Meg's eyes returned to their normal brown. "And they're not always black. We'll go over the variety next week. Any other ways?"

Hermione and a Ravenclaw boy both raised their hands. Sam called on the latter. "Water. I mean, water blessed by some sort of priest?"

"Yes, exactly. Holy water."

"Hem, hem."

Meg's eyes went black again. "For the love of all that's unholy can I just kill her already?"

"Please?" Seamus Finnegan added, not very quietly.

"I'm sorry," Umbridge simpered, "this… 'holy water' you speak of? Surely you don't mean to tell me that words spoken over water changes its abilities. It's just… water."

Fed up with the interruptions, Meg grabbed the flask marked with a cross. She marched across the classroom (temporarily unhindered as the traps that had been painted around the classroom had been disrupted with chalk) and stood in front of the Head of Curriculum.

Umbridge rose to her feet, sneering, and the pair of females glowered at one another. They were of a height, and both confident in their superiority, but there was no doubt which of the two was more dangerous. Thankfully, Meg had no current aspirations of violence towards the pink monstrosity. The demon merely unscrewed the flask and poured a generous dollop of sanctified liquid onto the back of her own hand.

Astonished students clamored at the sight of Meg's flesh reddening, steam rising from the area. When she tossed the remnants of the water onto Umbridge's face, the noise rose in volume. Several girls (including the victim) let out screams. The noise quickly died as the fifth years realized that the woman was moistened, but unharmed. "Happy?" Meg growled.

In response, Dolores shrieked, "HOW DARE YOU?"

"How dare I what?"

"THROW SUCH DANGEROUS SUBSTANCES AT A MINISTRY OFFICIAL?"

"I thought you said it was just water."

"That is what you said," a Hufflepuff boy called out. Others voiced similar statements.

Umbridge stuttered through several half-formed phrases as a smirking Meg looked on. Unable to properly justify her outrage, the ministry official plopped back down in her seat, her arms folded, looking more like a pouty toddler than a grown woman.

As Meg sauntered back to the front of the class, Sam let out an exasperated sigh. "Let's get back to the lesson…"

By the end of class, most of the students were looking at each other suspiciously. For a few weeks, an inordinate number of glasses filled with water were spilling from the tables, much to the bemusement of the rest of the staff. Sam was forced to spend a day explaining the ubiquitous devil's trap permeating the castle in order to make it stop. Everyone in the student body had, for one reason or another, left school grounds and therefore absolutely could not be a demon.

The actual demon was getting impatient, however, and decided to confront the issue head-on.

"Let me in," Meg growled at the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore's office.

It didn't respond. She repeated the request. It still didn't respond. She raised a hand, stiffened her fingers, and a fissure cracked down the gargoyle's face. The statue stepped aside (and regretted the day it had been given this stupid job).

As soon as Meg stepped into the Headmaster's office the ugly bird behind the desk began screeching. "Oh, shut up," she snarled. When it refused, her hand lifted.

"That is unnecessary," Dumbledore said sternly as he grasped the demon's wrist. He turned towards the bird. "Fawkes." The phoenix quieted, but not before shooting Meg a baleful glance.

The elderly wizard rounded his desk as the demon growled, "Look, I don't care how you do it. Get me the fuck out of here."

Dumbledore peered at her from over his spectacles. "And why?"

Meg's eyes overflowed with black. "Because I said so."

"Politeness is a virtue."

"I'm a demon."

"I suppose human niceties are out of the question?"

After an incredibly frustrated sigh, Meg uttered, "Please?"

"Excellent. You may leave."

"I—what?"

"You may leave."

Meg wanted to rip her nails down the smiling bastard's face. "Just like that."

"Of course. You see, my dear, the wards are keyed to the current Headmaster which is, as you well know," the wizard pointed at himself, "is me."

Eager to test out her newfound freedom, Meg stood. She started to call an obnoxious farewell when Dumbledore abruptly added, "But only if you wish to leave."

"Didn't I just say I wanted to get my ass out of this mausoleum?"

"Oh, and yes, of course, I've just given you permission. I thought, however, you might want to consider the benefits to you and yours if you stayed within the castle walls."

"There isn't any 'me and mine' in here."

"Really?"

"Really." The demon shoved the affection for a pair of innocent blue eyes away.

"Then I wish you well."

Wary, Meg stood up from the chair. "I can really leave?"

"Of course."

She pushed the seat back into place. "And if I wanted to stay?"

"Then I would ask that you refrain from terrorizing our students and professors." When her eyebrows lifted, Dumbledore added, "At least while in residence here at Hogwarts."

The demon pressed her lips together, thinking. Giving into impulse, Meg stated, "Snappy Snape still wants me there when he's giving Sam his occlumency lessons. Guess I'll stick around for a little while."

Eyes merry, the Headmaster nodded. "Of course! Just be certain to adhere to our agreement as was just stated."

"Right."

Meg stomped down the stone steps, the gargoyle stepping out of the way with alacrity. In between rationalizing her stay at the castle with reasons that had nothing to do with the stupid, hot angel she realized something. "As stated," the headmaster had said. Don't mess with the students or teachers, he'd said. A feral grin slowly spread across her lips.

He hadn't mentioned anything about the rest of the staff, including one very, very delightfully squishy Head of Curriculum.

As much as she wanted to, Meg couldn't string the woman's guts across the castle turrets. Dumbledweeb might take offense at how the sight might scar his poor widdle students' minds. Ah, but there were others in the facility who wouldn't mind spreading a bit of mayhem. Seed enough chaos in the school and the demon thought that putrid pink petunia might just lose her mind. Who were those twins? Fred and George? Word had it that they were already deep into developing a line of mischievous magical products with the long-term intent of selling them.

Why it was the perfect time to invest.

Life at the castle moved forward in much the same manner for several weeks. Meg and the Weasley twins created an unholy alliance during which she used her centuries of experience to advance their production research. Sam began winding down his module on demons and continued to take lessons from Snape. Harry endured day after day of occlumency-related issues, the worst of which coincided with the escape of ten Death Eaters from Azkaban (aided by the nefarious Sirius Black, of course).

With Umbridge continuing to assiduously attend the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, Dean was forced to give his own physical lessons only once every other week. He therefore found more time to check up on Moody's search for Kevin (with the former auror getting more and more frustrated by his own lack of progress), and on their current houseguest. "Hey, Sirius," Dean called as he walked from the Bunker kitchen to the library. "Check the news?"

"An owl brought me the Prophet in the morning. I saw."

"How bad is this?"

"Bad."

As Dean handed over a beer, he listened to the wizard give an abbreviated list of the crimes of the escapees, the worst of which being Sirius' own cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange. "She would be why the Longbottoms are never leaving St. Mungo's."

Dean took a long pull on his bottle. "Cass said their souls were damaged. What kind of sick fuck does that to a person?"

Sirius sighed. He glared morosely at the book he'd been using to research a haunting in Oregon for a hunter. "The kind raised in a home where the Dark Arts are revered. Where your mother and your father actively encourage you to learn the Unforgivable Curses and then use them on you when you refuse to comply." In the ensuing silence, the wizard sighed. "I suppose I'm lucky I met James and Remus when I did and was sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin."

"Nah, that ain't it."

Taken aback, Sirius sat up. "Pardon?"

With his feet propped up, Dean nonchalantly shrugged. "You got to Hogwarts at, what, eleven? Means you spent all that time with your shit family without breakin'. Something in you is just better than them."

A small, grateful smile curled the corners of Sirius' mouth. "Thank you for saying that. There are too many in my world who believe your blood dictates who you are."

"Yeah, well, they're dicks. Too much inbreeding."

"Wouldn't be surprised. Oh, by the way," Sirius said as he stood up and grabbed a stack of papers, "the boy, Kevin, left these here. I've puzzled out part of the second trial from his notes."

Dean choked on the last of his beer, coughing roughly as the wizard approached. "How?"

Wryly, Sirius replied, "I've had nothing but time. That, and an fully-grown wizard's talents. I used a few spells to fill in the gaps and deciphered most of it. There's something to do with a rescue, but I can't make sense of the rest."

After clearing his throat, Dean said, "We got the rest of Kevin's stuff back at Hogwarts. Want me to bring it?"

On the table Sirius had just abandoned, a phone buzzed. "No, I think I'm busy enough as it is. A hunter… Garth? He appears to be directing others to me for answers and this blasted device won't stop ringing."

Dean took a moment to digest the fact that Garth, a man who should thank every day he didn't die on the job, was now relaying information to other hunters. He shook his head; if the man wanted to play Bobby, then let him play Bobby. "Guess I'll have to find someone else."

"Oh, yes, I mean, I see, maybe. Perhaps this, and oh! Here: this corresponds to this, and—"

"So you can do it?"

Hermione nodded, not taking umbrage with the fact that Mr. Winchester had cut off her rambling. "It may take me some time, but I know how Kevin was keeping notes." The girl's brow creased in worry. "Is there any word as to his whereabouts?"

"Not yet," Dean sighed, "but don't worry. He's with his mom. She's tough."

He went next to check on Castiel. It was difficult getting used to the fact that the angel had gained some human needs, sleep being the most prominent. The past week, however, Dean had caught his friend in the Courtyard picking at a small plate of various foodstuffs held out by a house elf who occasionally patted the angel's arm and murmured encouragements. By the expression on his face, Cass wasn't enjoying having to quell that particular urge. Apparently, so he'd later told Dean, he could still taste each molecule, but now it was colored by actual flavor. The effect was indescribably confusing.

At the moment, Castiel was sitting against one of the stone walls having a theological discussion with a group of monks. A painted group of monks. A painted group of very drunk monks. They gave Dean a rousing cheer when he sat next to the angel. "The Right-chuss Man!" one called. "Thy counten-nen-nenance is mos' welcome!"

As Cass had become somewhat good friends with the ecclesiastical group (on their insistence; it wasn't every day that they met a representative of the Lord), Dean was used to their antics. "Uh, yeah, thanks. You guys mind givin' us a moment or two?"

"Most certainly!" heartily cheered the fattest of the lot. "Come now, fellows. We shall feast with the nymphs!"

Dean waited until the monk had used his considerable bulk to literally bounce his compatriots from the painting before giving Castiel the news. "We think we know part of the next trial. You up to it?"

Tiredly, the angel nodded. "Yes. What is it?"

"We're not sure yet. Something about a rescue."

Cass wiped a hand down his face and sighed. "All right."

Worried, Dean asked, "You all right?"

"That is a rather superfluous question. Of course I'm not. I'm becoming mortal. I will start being hungry. Thirsty. I will need to sleep. I will begin to be hurt. And I will eventually die. So, no. I am not 'all right'."

The vehemence with which Castiel listed the effects of the Trials took Dean aback. He hadn't even thought of how the change might be affecting the angel mentally; all he'd understood was his friend was going to be human, and to someone who was already human it hadn't seemed like such a big deal. "Cass, look, we can stop now. I'll do the Trials instead. We just need to go find another Hellhound."

"No." Castiel's jaw set. "I need to do this."

Astonished, Dean asked, "Why?"

"Penance. Naomi was wrong, but she was offering me a way to pay back for all the lives I took here and in Heaven. If I do this, then I have the right to beg for forgiveness."

"The fuck—" Memories of the struggles the angel had gone through before and after Lucifer had been sealed away filled Dean with fury. "They abandoned you, Cass! Hell, you were trying to save them, save us all from that dickwad, Raphael. You don't need to beg anyone for anything."

Castiel braced his palms against the wall and pushed himself up. He looked down at Dean. "Even if one of the things I need to beg for is your forgiveness?"

Dean didn't know how to respond. He was still angry at Castiel for what he'd done, beginning with making a deal with Crowley for the souls of Purgatory, tearing down the walls in Sam's mind, going off always and doing his own goddamn thing and just regularly fucking up. And yet, through it all, Castiel had remained loyal to Dean and his brother, going against family and the entire celestial hierarchy to stay by their side and lend them his aid. "No, there ain't nothing you gotta beg from me."

The angel's frown deepened. He crouched down to look Dean in the eyes. After a moment of awkward silence, Castiel firmly stated, "I don't believe you."

Nonplussed and ashamed, Dean watched Cass walk away. He'd been so focused on everything else he'd forgotten how his best friend had been traumatized over and over the past few years. Unfortunately, Dean didn't know what to do about Castiel's feelings. What he did know was when this was all over, Cass had a home and a family he could always come to no matter what.

Now they just needed to survive the school year, figure out a way to defeat Voldemort, find Kevin, find the Angel Tablet, avoid Crowley, and give Naomi what she deserved. After that, everything would be fine.