Chapter 2

Boise, Idaho, 19th August 2011

The morning of August 19th brought with it cloudy skies and bad weather that would make even the happiest person alive miserable. Despite the weather, Sam and Dean Winchester slept uncomfortably. Not that they weren't used to it.

Sam woke first, his bleary hazel green eyes opening to stare at the ceiling. He yawned then winced in pain, feeling the stinging burn of the gash that had been stitched up. Frowning as he sat up, his older brother was still laying on his stomach, over the covers, fully clothed with his head to the side and his mouth slightly open. He snorted in amusement.

Getting out of bed, he walked to the tiny bathroom that lay across from the beds. The room was cool, forming goosebumps on Sam's skin. The prospect of a good shower made him feel a lot better as he entered the bathroom and turned the shower on. The hot water gushed from the nozzle and Sam smiled a little as he got undressed. He stepped into the shower, enjoying the hot water as it flowed down his skin. After his hair had been washed with what Dean dubbed 'chick shampoo', he got out and wrapped the towel around his waist as he heard sounds outside the door, surely Dean getting up. He heard the alarm clock go off about ten seconds before he heard it crash against a wall. Yes, Dean Winchester was definitely awake.

"Hey Sasquatch! I know you're tall enough to hit the ceiling in there but save some hot water for me!" his brother's voice grumbled through the door frame. Sam rolled his eyes. He got dressed in his blue and white flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. Both items had tiny holes in them, small trophies from previous hunts. The cut near his thigh from skidding across the dirt to avoid an attack. There had been a small piece of glass sticking out of the ground that found its way into his leg. Dean had cussed the whole way to the ER two days later because the cut got infected. They spent three days in the hospital with Sam telling his brother not to worry over him. Then Dean would reply, 'That's what I'm supposed to do. I'm the big brother.'

Sam opened the door to see his brother at the table examining the note. "She said she'd be here at two in the afternoon," Dean stated. Sam looked at his watch. "It's only ten in the morning," he answered. "You would know if you hadn't broken the clock…." Seeing the broken pieces of plastic and gears on the floor.

Dean shrugged at the pieces. "We might as well pack. And get some breakfast," Dean left the room with a smile on his face at the prospect of food.

Sam grabbed the keys to the Impala. "I'll get breakfast. What do you want?"

"Usual!" Dean called back, then added threateningly. "Be careful with Baby…" Sam left the room, closing the door behind him. He walked towards Dean's baby.

Their father had given Dean that car when he had turned eighteen and Dean had looked after it ever since. In a bizarre twist of fate, when Dean had been brought back to 1973 by Zachariah, Dean had helped his then nineteen or twenty-year-old father choose the car instead of the Volkswagen van he was originally going to buy.

Dean usually never let anyone but himself drive the car. But on the rare occasion that Dean was either unconscious from a hunt or booze Sam would get the honour of driving his beloved car. He remembered the accident with their father. They had been driving, only an hour after the Yellow-Eyed Demon had stopped possessing his father.

They had carried a barely conscious and badly hurt Dean to the Impala when a huge demon driving a semi-truck had smashed into them, forcing the car back before finally stopping as a useless heap of metal. The three of them had been rushed to the hospital. Sam was okay, which was a little surprising even though he wasn't on the side of the car that the truck hit, he had only gained a few bruises and cuts. His father had got a broken right arm and broken leg with cuts covering his exposed skin.

Sam had only realized later that the reason he had not been hurt so badly was probably that Yellow Eyes didn't want Sam dead before he would form his demon army and make the special children fight to the death…

Dean had got the worst of it, he was comatose. It was terrifying as the doctors told him that his brother would never wake up. How could they say that? They didn't know Dean. He was a stubborn bastard, a guaranteed trait inherited by Winchesters. Then Dean had woken up. It was the best Sam had ever felt, seeing his brother alive and awake. Sam remembered walking down the corridor a few hours later after Dean told him what had happened while he was in a coma. A chill ran down his spine as he stopped in his tracks to see his father on the floor, clearly dead. Sam and Dean had both watched as the doctors tried and failed to revive their father.

'Time of death, 10:41 am.' The doctor's voice echoed in his head, thumping against the side of his skull. Sam sighed; it had been devastating. To make it worse, they had found out that John had made a deal to save Dean in exchange for the Colt, which was the demon-killing gun, and his own life.

He pulled into the first grocery store he found, leaning against the door frame and thought about the last argument that he had with his Dad.

'Go to hell' was the last thing he'd ever said to his Dad. Looking at the situation with new eyes, he could understand his Dad's intentions. Sam was only a baby when his mother died, so he never really knew her, therefore he couldn't mourn the loss. But for his Dad, and Dean, it meant more to them to kill the demon than it meant to him.

But his father was right; he should have killed it when he had the chance. How could I have killed it though? He thought to himself. I would have killed Dad in the process. That's just something I couldn't live with. John Winchester had been possessed by the Yellow-Eyed Demon; Sam had the opportunity to kill it. He could have shot his father with the Colt, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He seriously doubted Dean could have either.

After their father's death, Sam had never seen Dean so depressed. He drank more, sat alone and wouldn't answer him when he asked him something. Sam sighed. He got up and got out, walking inside. His hair swept in the breeze, getting in his eyes. It wouldn't be long before he would have to give himself another homemade haircut.

He entered the store and walked over to the deli counter. On the other side was a woman with way too much make-up and peroxide blonde hair. "Hey," the woman smiled. Definitely Dean's type… He thought.

"Hey, could I get two rolls with bacon sausage and egg please?" he asked the woman whose name tag read Cindy. Sam nodded as she started making the rolls, looking in the distance. He looked out the window, seeing a small tabby grey and black cat on the wall that bordered the store's parking lot.

His phone pinged and Sam looked back, pulling his phone from his pocket. He looked at the screen, the cat forgotten momentarily. The display read a text message from Dean. 'Get more beer on the way back. All out.'

"Of course," Sam muttered to himself.

The peroxide haired woman came back with their order. Sam thanked her and retrieved the beer and whiskey before paying, along with a few snacks and Cokes. Placing the food on the passenger seat, he drove back to the motel.

As he drove, his mind wandered back to the letter. Cas had told him that the woman was telling the truth about everything. But was Cas telling the truth? Would he lie to them? No. Sam shook the thought off. Cas wouldn't do that.

He arrived back at the motel and with a sigh, Sam got out of the car and went to their room. Fumbling for the key, he pulled it out and opened the door to see Dean putting their things in their duffel bags. He was in a different shirt and his leather jacket was on along with a new pair of trousers.

"Hey," Sam said as he set the food down. Dean approached him and took his food from Sam and grabbed a fork. He dug into his food and Sam rolled his eyes as he got his own. They ate in silence and when they were finished, they threw the paper plates of food into the trash.

"We have a few hours to kill," Dean said. "Might as well clean the guns." Sam nodded as Dean dug out the weapons bag.

He ran a cloth over his favourite pistol, dragging the oil away with it as he cleaned it. Sam joined him. The exercise didn't involve much to talk about other than asking for the oil or the occasional comment about picking up more ammunition. Three hours later at one o'clock, they decided they had to do something.

"We have to get ready," Sam said. Dean nodded and threw him a can of spray paint and pointed to the ceiling. Sam nodded as Dean rummaged a bag of rock salt from the duffel. He poured a new salt line in the doorway and along the only window that was at the back. Sam sprayed the ceiling with the symbol he knew so well.

Dean got up, the amulet bouncing slightly over his t-shirt. After Dean had thrown it in the trash after getting back from Heaven, Sam had retrieved it. He knew that Dean would regret throwing it away like that. It meant a lot to Dean. Years ago, when they were just kids, Sam was going to give it to their father as a gift for Christmas, but when he never showed, Dean got it instead. It turned out the amulet was special. Cas once said it would glow hot in God's presence. It was re-gifted to Dean by Sam a few weeks beforehand. Rummaging in his bag, he found it amongst his stuff. His soulless self didn't bother giving it back. He remembered the surprised look on Dean's face when he gave it back to him. It was partially an apology for how he had acted, a piss poor one in his opinion. But it was something.

By the time they had finished, it was 1:55 pm. Dean and Sam were standing facing the door, guns in hand, the hair on their arms standing on end in anticipation. A loud crack sounded from behind them and the two brothers whirled around. They looked for the source of the noise and saw nothing out of place except for a tabby grey and black cat sitting calmly on the tiny dining table.

"That cat was outside the grocery store when I was getting the food," Sam noted quietly. The cat sat perfectly still, only its eyes moved as it appraised the two men in front of it.

"First a fuckin' owl last night, now a cat today?" Dean grumbled, he stepped forward to shoo the cat away when it moved, jumping off of the table, the Winchester's eyes widened in surprise. The cat became larger and a few seconds later, a woman was standing in front of them. She looked to be in her mid-fifties, but she had an aura that implied that of someone a few decades older. Her face looked strict with jet black hair tied back in a sharp bun under a pointed hat. She wore a plain black dress adorned with the lion symbol Sam and Dean had inspected on the wax seal of the letter.

Dean and Sam had their guns aimed at her at once.

"Those are hardly necessary," the woman said, gesturing to the guns. Neither Winchester relaxed and she rolled her eyes. "Who are you?" Dean growled.

"Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor House in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm sure you received my letter yesterday," Minerva said calmly. She looked around the squalor around her trying to find a decent place to sit, giving up after finding none.

"Christo," Dean mumbled. She did not flinch.

"Latin, impressive. That will come in handy with spell work." She nodded, satisfied.

"Prove it. How do we know you're not lying?" Sam demanded.

Minerva sighed. "If you want proof…" She pulled a small hexagon shaped card somewhere from beneath her robes and tossed it to Dean. He inspected it quickly with a huff of surprise before handing it over to Sam. "I hope that meets your qualifications satisfactorily."

Sam looked at the card. There was a picture of the woman standing in front of him, but this picture was different. The picture moved like a video, she had a downturned, small mouth as if she had just eaten a lemon, and her arms were crossed, her free hand drumming along her forearm. Then in the next second, she walked out of the frame. Underneath the moving picture was her name 'Minerva McGonagall.'

"It moves!" Dean whispered in shock as he flipped the card over and back again trying to figure out its secrets.

"Well naturally." Minerva rolled her eyes. "Oh, that's right, Muggle pictures do not move." She looked at Sam in particular.

"Did you — did she just call me a Muggle?" Dean stuttered. "What the hell is a Muggle?!"

"Language please Mr Winchester," Minerva sounded miffed. "If that doesn't convince you, maybe this will." She sat down at the small dinette table and pulled out her 'enchanted stick' and tapped Sam's laptop Dean's bottle of whiskey on the table three times each. "Vera Verto," she muttered, and the laptop turned into a teacup and the whiskey into a pot of tea.

Both men stood mystified as she poured the tea into the cup and started drinking it. She hid a smile behind the teacup, glad to see her little parlour trick works on adult muggles as well as young children.

"That was a perfectly good bottle!" Dean whined. "That's still pretty cool though…" his mind almost went haywire with the possibilities of this. If she can make booze into tea…

But Sam looked at her darkly. Nothing good can come from a woman who makes hot tea out of whiskey. She completely disregarded Dean's comment. "Look on the back of the card if you want my credentials."

Dean flipped over the card and read it aloud. "'Professor Minerva McGonagall: Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor house and Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She is listed in the Ministry of Magic's Animagus Registry as a tabby cat with square spectacle markings around the eyes. After graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry of Magic for two years then she chose to return to Hogwarts to teach Transfiguration. She replaced her old mentor Albus Dumbledore as the Head of the Transfiguration Department when he ascended to the position of Headmaster.'" He looked at his brother with a shrug. "She seems legit." Then he put his gun down.

"Are you serious Dean?!" Sam glared at his brother while keeping his gun trained on the Professor. "We have no idea of what she's capable of! Look what she did to my laptop and your whiskey bottle? Who knows what she could do to us!"

"I can assure you, Mr Winchester, that I am not here to do you any harm. I am here to answer any questions you might have regarding the job and to see if you have accepted." Minerva smiled warmly at Sam and sipped the last bit of the tea left in her cup. She then picked up her wand, which she had left on the table where the men could see it and waved it over the transfigured objects, and they went back to their original state.

"Sam, you were all for this yesterday!" Dean snapped but Sam didn't answer. "And over the past couple of years, what hasn't been done to us? You were cuddling with that damn owl last night for crying out loud."

Sam sighed. "I guess you're right. I'm sorry Ms McGonagall," he said in the polite tone he used when posing as an FBI agent, or what Dean called the 'lawyer' tone.

"It's very understandable Mr Winchester, and please, you may call me Minerva," Minerva replied with a smile. "I have been in this position before. It is my responsibility to go to Muggleborn homes and tell them that they have magical blood and can attend Hogwarts."

"What's a Muggleborn?" Dean asked as he sat across from her.

"A Muggleborn is a witch or wizard who is born to non-magical, or Muggle, parents," Minerva explained.

So that's why she called us Muggles, Sam thought. "Is Hogwarts anywhere near London?" He remembered Castiel talking about the three schools, also noting Minerva's British accent.

"Hogwarts is located in Scotland and has been there for over 1000 years," Minerva answered.

"What was the House's thing about?" Sam asked again. Dean shot his brother a smirk. Typical college boy. He was such a nerd.

"There are four Houses of Hogwarts, named after the four founders, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw." She flicked her wand and four banners appeared out of thin air. One was a dark red decorated with a golden lion, the one next to it was a golden yellow colour with a black badger, the next was rich emerald green with a silver serpent on it and the last one was royal blue with a bronze eagle. "The students are Sorted into Houses based on their personalities and traits in their first year at the start of term feast. Gryffindors are brave and daring, Hufflepuffs are chosen by their hard-working and loyal natures, Slytherins for their cunning and hunger for power and Ravenclaws are sorted into their House because of their clever minds," Minerva explained, she flicked her wand again and the banners disappeared.

The two brothers took a moment to absorb this new information. Dean looked at Sam. I know where you belong, he thought with a smirk.

Minerva watched the brothers' exchange with an air of amusement. Dean Winchester looked like he had the personality of the Weasley twins. He seemed mischievous, yet focused, protective of his family. Merlin, help us all…. She thought fondly. Sam, on the other hand, looked eager to learn, but yet was also focused on the task at hand.

"What subject would we be teaching, Professor?" Sam asked. "What could we teach your students that they wouldn't be able to learn from you?"

"Ah yes," Minerva looked through her robes and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper and unfurled it. "Demonology; A study of supernatural creatures." She let the scroll roll in on itself and handed it to Sam for him to look over the course. "We did research and found out that your father had a lot of experience in this area, and we were going to contact him for the position." Her eyes were downcast as she continued. "We are so sorry for your loss." But then she apprised them with a look of pride. "Naturally, as his son's you will be perfect for the job if you agree to the position. You would be teaching our students about fighting demons and other supernatural creatures because we fear that You-Know-Who may involve them in his quest for power and to help kill Harry Potter."

"Okay, but who is Harry Potter?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, what's so special about him and this Voldemort dude?" Dean piped up.

They both noticed when she winced. "Please don't say that name. Harry Potter is legendary in our world. When he was a year old, You-Know-Who came into his home and…" She struggled to get the words out. "Murdered his parents. He then tried to kill Harry but couldn't," Her voice turned mystified. "He was thought to be destroyed that night, but it appears he has returned, two years ago, when Harry was fourteen. Potter confirmed it after bringing back one of our Hufflepuff students that You-Know-Who had murdered. The Ministry of Magic simply refused to believe that he had returned. It was only after he turned up in the Ministry one day last June to kill Harry that they finally started to believe him. You-Know-Who is the name we have given to Voldemort," she tried to hide her wince, "because most of the wizarding population are terrified to even speak his name," Minerva told the brothers.

"Poor kid," Sam said sadly. Dean nodded in agreement. Harry seemed to have a similar life to theirs, orphaned at a young age.

"So, we have to train these kids like our Dad trained us?" the elder Winchester asked. "God help them." He added with a snort as he took a swig of whiskey.

"Well, we would hope you could teach them practical lessons where training will be involved, but also having classes in teaching them about the creatures you encountered in your lives," Minerva told them, waving her hand at the letter in Sam's hand. "It's all there in the scroll."

Dean didn't even have to look at Sam to know what his answer would be. "We'll do it."

"Wait Minerva, why did you change from a cat when you got here?" Sam asked.
Minerva smiled. "Oh yes. I am an Animagus, which means I can turn into an animal at will. If that is all I should be going now. I will return in a few days to bring you to London where we can get your supplies for the year. The term begins on September first and I will give you more information about that when I see you again. Goodbye," Minerva smiled and stood up and shook their hands stiffly and without another word she disappeared with a crack.