Chapter 21

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, 31st October 2011

The morning was quiet as Sam and Dean slept on. Jess swooped into the room hooting cheerfully as she dropped something dark into Sam's chest. She perched on his nightstand and waited for him to wake up.

Sam groaned; his eyes opened. He yawned as the sound of hooting reached his ears. "Morning Jess."

She hooted again, looking very proud of herself. Ruffling her wings proudly, she flew to perch on his head. Sam chuckled scratching where he hoped was her chin and saw the dead mouse on his blankets.

"Oh great," he muttered. "Did you bring me a present for Halloween?" Jess trilled excitedly as he picked it up by the tail. "Here. You can have it back. I'm not hungry this morning."

Jess hooted again. She clamped the mouse in her beak and flew away through the open window.

"Well, that woke me up," Sam groaned as he stretched. I really need to find a stretching spell for this bed, he thought. He pulled the thick socks off his feet as the sheets were too small to cover him as well.

He got up and walked into the bathroom. When he emerged, dressed in his winter robes, he looked out the window. It was a bright Saturday, the sun shining over the lush green grass. It was getting colder, so he pulled a scarf out of his wardrobe. Not quite snowing weather, but Sam never did well in the cold.

Dean's door opened, and he came trudging through the bathroom. "Heya Sammy. What was with all the noise?"

Sam snorted, "Jess brought me a present."

"What present?"

"A mouse… I woke up, and it was on my chest," Sam answered.

"Ew…" Dean frowned.

Sam shrugged, not too bothered. "The kids have their first trip to the village today."

"Finally, I've been looking forward to this," Dean rubbed his palms together.

"You just wanted to go to that joke shop," Sam accused. "Do you always have to act like a child?"

Dean stared at him before answering. "Yes. It's a gift."

Sam turned his back on his brother with a roll of his eyes.

"What's with the scarf? Are you getting sick or something?" Dean asked.

"No, it's just starting to get cold. It's meant to be 40° today," Sam shrugged.

"You've always been a wimp when it came to the cold. Remember those mittens Dad got you? You never took them off when you were a kid. I think you were like six or something."

"Says the man who thought he was Batman for a year." Sam retorted easily.

"You're just pissy cause you broke your arm pretending to be Robin," Dean grinned as he tied his shoes.

"You jumped off the shed first!"

"Not my fault you followed."

"Okay, okay. I'll give you that one." Sam shrugged. "So how do you feel about chaperoning teenagers?"

"Aren't most of the staff going?" Dean asked as they left their quarters. "How many students go?"

"Yeah, it's third years and up. "Most people take up the opportunity. Be honest, you want to see Minerva let loose, don't you?" Sam smirked.

"I bet she's a closet karaoke singer," Dean whispered to Sam.

"Oh God," Sam laughed.

"Oh, I just realized. It's Halloween," Dean changed the subject. His eyes shifted around the corridor as they walked. They took no notice of the students as they made their way through the castle.

They made it a practice to keep the relationship of student/teacher in check, keeping their distance was something both brothers agreed with early on. They needed to keep up professionalism. It wasn't that they didn't want the kids to like them; they did. Well, to a point. They were their teachers after all.

But they saw so much of themselves in Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry, with the loss of his parents, reminded them of losing their loved ones. Hermione was clever like Sam and courageous like Dean. Ron showed bravery and loyalty far beyond his years that reminded the boys of themselves at his age.

They walked down to the Great Hall wondering how a bunch of witches and wizards did Halloween.

"No Dean, I'm sure they don't do trick or treating." Looking at his brother with an incredulous expression, Sam sat down in his seat.

⸸

Breakfast went by in a quiet affair. The older students were alight with chatter, discussing the trip to Hogsmeade. Sam and Dean left the castle a little after nine a.m., walking toward the castle gates.

"You're right, it is pretty cold," Dean shivered.

"I guess we're just not that used to it," Sam shrugged.

"I suppose you're right," his brother agreed. He looked thoughtful. "You know, it's strange being here. All the magic crap aside, it's weird not being home."

"We haven't got a home, Dean."

"You know what I mean! It's strange not seeing Bobby or Cas. Hell, I'd even settle for Rufus at this point. Cranky old bastard."

Sam laughed. "I guess we could go back to the States for the holidays."

"Yeah. Wouldn't be a bad idea."

Dean jumped when Minerva appeared before them seemingly out of nowhere.

"Do you have to keep doing that?!" Dean grabbed his shirt over his racing heart.

"Hello Sam, Dean," Minerva smiled, and Dean swore he could see a glint of mischief in her eyes. "How are you finding Hogsmeade?"

"We just got here," Dean pointed out.

"It goes without saying that you two are representatives of our school and are to set an example for the students." She told them as they continued down the snowy pathway.

"Of course," Sam nodded.

"We'll behave," Dean told her, only mildly offended.

"Good," replied Minerva briskly as she walked away.

"Wait, Minnie!" Dean called. Minerva swirled round to face him with a stern look. A few of the younger students nearby tittered in amusement.

"Mr Win-"

"Aren't you worried about letting the students loose?" Dean interrupted. "With the Ministry fallen and all?"

She walked back up to them, a strange mix of concern and sadness in her eyes. "With the world in the state it is right now, I think these children need all the limited freedom we can give them."

"You're right," Sam nodded. "We just want to make sure they're safe. That's all."

"Of course," Minerva agreed. "The protections on the castle have been extended to Hogsmeade. We have more staff attending this visit than usual, for added protection. Which is why the two of you are here. I hope the trust is well-earned?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Sam nodded. Minerva nodded and walked away again, excusing herself.

At this point, the scenic village of Hogsmeade came into view. To their surprise, the rooftops and cobblestone streets were covered in a thick layer of crisp white snow. Their footsteps made soft crunching sounds as they neared the vintage-styled cottages.

"It's Halloween… Isn't it a little early for snow?" Dean looked at his brother, ignoring the chattering of the surrounding students.

"It is a little higher up than the castle is. It was snowy here when we got off the train," Sam reminded him.

"Oh yeah, and the obvious. Magic!" Dean wiggled his fingers in Sam's face.

Sam laughed. "You're an idiot."

The brothers walked down the pavement slowly. Dean pulled Sam into the Quality Quidditch Supplies store and Sam had to talk him down after attempting to buy an autographed photo of the Holyhead Harpies.

"No, Dean." Sam frowned.

"But they're pretty to look at."

"Stop being a perv," Sam frowned. "Come on, I need some stuff from the bookstore."

They walked a little further down the street and into a bookshop called Tomes and Scrolls. Dean frowned, "Only you would go to a fun place like this and drag me to a bookstore."

"Come on," Sam rolled his eyes. "If you can stick it out, we can go grab a beer, okay?" he said as if bribing a child.

"Whatever," Dean shrugged. They walked into the bookstore. It wasn't long before they were leaving, a few books in Sam's hands. Dean grumbled.
"What's wrong with you?" Sam asked as they walked together down the street.

"You know what is really bothering me." Dean pulled his cloak closer around him.

"C'mon," Sam muttered. They ducked into a small pub and found a table. Sam went and bought them both a Firewhiskey and walked back to the table. Dean's brows were furrowed, looking a little tense.

Sam looked around wondering how much attention Dean was going to draw with his negative behaviour. He sat down beside his brother.

"I'm not in the best mood either," he began, his voice understanding.

"Yeah, well…" Dean shrugged.

"I know it's not an easy week, man." Sam put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "But we'll be okay, we'll get through it. We always do, just this year without booze." Dean huffed and downed his shot of whiskey. "You heard Minerva." Sam reminded him. "We promised her."

"I know, I know," Dean shrugged him off. "To Jessica," He raised his glass.

"To Mom." Sam clinked his glass with Dean's. They both downed their glasses. Neither brother noticed Harry Ron and Hermione enter the dingy pub and sitting nearby. It wasn't a huge seating area, so they ended up a few feet from the Professors.

"Blimey that Lavender girl won't give up…." Ron grumbled. "Between her and Ginny snogging Dean…"

Dean's attention was grabbed by his name being called, he turned to see the trio and smiled at them. His fingers raised in a weak wave.

"Sorry Professor, different Dean," Ron stuttered.

"It's okay Weasley." Dean nodded. "I'll give you a pass."

"Are you enjoying Hogsmeade Professors?" Hermione smiled weakly.

"Yeah, it's nice," Sam smiled. Dean took another gulp of his whiskey. "You got girl troubles, Weasley?"

Ron went beet red. "N-No." Hermione scowled at her cup.

"Leave the kid alone Dean," Sam chided.

"What? I'm just asking." Dean held his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay, okay."

They dissolved back into their own groups. Sam pulled out the book he bought in Tomes and Scrolls, leafing through the pages.

"Anything good in that book?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," the younger brother replied as he turned another page, eyes focused on the book.

"Like what?"

"There's some new stuff in here. A lot of stuff on Banshees."

"Aren't they Irish?"

"Legends come from Scotland too," Sam told him. He started to read. "A female death omen spirit that manifests to herald approaching death with wailing. Many people have described the terrible wail, which precedes a death, and certain families are traditionally believed to be followed by the Banshee. The word is sometimes also used to denote assort of demon, but in Nordic folklore, the banshee is always benevolent.

The banshee of legend is actually a disembodied soul, either of someone who in life was strongly attached to the family or who hated all its members. So, if she loves those whom she calls, the wail is a soft, tender, soothing chant, intended to either give notice of death's proximity or reassure the one destined to die, or to comfort the survivors. But if instead, the Banshee during her life was an enemy of the family, the wail is more like the scream of a fiendish ghost, delight over the coming fatal agony of one of her foes

"Sounds like a chick you don't want to piss off. Okay," Dean nodded. "Yeah, I think Dad had something in the journal about them."

"I think Bobby would like this book."

"We should probably get more books from him, nevermind us giving him more. Guy is a hoarder when it comes to books. He could open up an occult bookstore in that crappy junkyard."

"That's true," A short witch came around to offer them refills on their drinks.

"Thanks," Sam smiled. Dean nodded in gratitude.

Dean watched the kids filter in and out of the dimly lit room, ordering mugs of butterbeer.

"Did you notice all the boarded-up businesses, Sammy?" Dean asked as he took another sip of whiskey.

"Yeah, it looked like nearly 60 per cent if I had to guess." Sam looked around and saw Hermione looking at them curiously. "Hermione, do you mind me asking about the shops here?"

"A few of the businesses have closed. It's fear of You-Know-Who," Hermione told them.

"Diagon Alley has gone very similar. People don't want to leave their homes."

"They're all scared." Ron shrugged. "At least that's what Fred and George told Mum."

"I'm not surprised," Dean spoke in a grave tone. "I get it. Understandable that people want to protect their families."

"George said they wouldn't close, but Mum threatened to come down there and take them out by force if necessary."

Sam nodded. "I get it, but if it isn't safe-"

"They want to keep everything normal." Harry cut him off.

"It's best to avoid panic," Dean agreed with Harry, looking at Sam. "We've done the same thing."

"In what way Professor," Hermione looked at them quizzically. "If you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, there's not one instance that comes to mind. But sometimes it's better to keep acting like things are normal rather than to have people running around causing more chaos."

"When we were hunting Azazel, we had to try to keep calm at times and not let emotions get in the way. It didn't always work," Sam told them. Dean looked at his brother, surprised he was revealing personal information, but let it slide. The kids nodded, absorbing the information.

"Oh," Sam suddenly spoke after a few seconds. "I couldn't find much about it, but what is the deal with the old house on the hill?" he asked.

Hermione and Ron smirked a little, remembering their third year. "It's called the Shrieking Shack," Hermione explained. "The people who live in Hogsmeade say it's haunted. They say they hear screaming coming from the shack fairly often."

"Haunted? Maybe time for a field trip, Sammy," Dean grinned.

The trio looked at each other. "What?" Sam asked.

"The shack isn't actually haunted," Hermione told them. "Do you remember Professor Lupin?"

"What has he got to do with it?" Dean asked and then stopped. "Wait… does this have to do with his… you know…."

"Furry little problem?" Harry asked with a slight smirk. "Yeah. It does. I'm surprised you know about that."

"We're surprised you know," Dean pointed out. "And really, 'furry little problem'?" The three students laughed.

"My dad was friends with Professor Lupin when they were in school. He, my godfather, and Peter Pettigrew-" Harry grimaced at the name before continuing." They found out about his… condition, and they didn't shun him for it. Professor Dumbledore planted the Whomping Willow as a guard. A passage can be opened up to the Shrieking Shack if you know what to do. He used to sneak out there once a month to transform on his own. When my Dad and Sirius found out, they became unregistered Animagi to help him during his transformation. Werewolves are less likely to attack animals than humans, and also, they wanted him to feel less alone."

"Wow," Dean said, impressed. "They sounded like good people."

"They were, most of them.," replied Harry irritably.

Before Dean could press Harry for more information, they were interrupted as Luna and Neville came through the door, spotting Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They sat at their table.

"Oh, hey," Neville smiled. "I didn't realize you'd be here."

Luna smiled brightly. "Hello, Professors. Enjoying the Halloween holiday?"

"Yeah, it's nice over here. Good change of scenery," Sam agreed.

"How did you celebrate in America? I've heard things are a little different over there."

"Most kids dress up in costumes and go to people's houses and knock, asking for candy," Dean replied. "It's called trick-or-treating."

"We also do that," Hermione pointed out. "Well, Muggle families do. It doesn't seem to be a wizarding tradition."

"Well, we don't go breaking and entering people's houses…" Ron rolled his eyes. "There aren't many Pureblood families left now. Most of the Muggle traditions have blended in with our own."

"Makes sense I guess."

"Dressing up sounds interesting," Luna mused. "What would you be?"

"Well, the last one, I barely remember. I was four, and I dressed up as Batman," Dean explained. "That was the last time we did it. Our mom died a few days later and normal life was forgotten about I guess." Dean's words were strictly factual, not looking for sympathy or pity. It was just the way things were.

Harry looked down, Dean and Sam didn't seem to notice as Luna asked them another question. Hermione touched his shoulder gently and turned her attention back to Luna and Sam. Harry excused himself to go to the bathroom.

"Is Harry okay?" Sam asked.

"This is a hard time for Harry too," Hermione said softly.

"His Mum and Dad died on Halloween night," Ron told them.

"Sh… Crap," Dean remembered. "I forgot."

"He really doesn't talk about it much." Hermione offered quietly.

"Yeah, it's never easy," Sam frowned. "We understand. Our Dad's death is still pretty hard to get over."

Dean hid his grimace, thinking back. The sound of the crowbar hitting the metal of the Impala's trunk reverberated through his mind.

"There are worse things." Neville frowned.

"You're right," Dean agreed, knowing exactly what the boy was talking about. Although, there was no way he was going to bring it up. The kid wouldn't appreciate the sympathy, he could tell.

"I know Neville," Luna replied mournfully. "My mother died trying to create her own spells." She looked to Dean and Sam to explain. "She liked to be experimental, you see, but one day one of them went badly wrong. I was nine."

"I'm sorry," Sam said compassionately.

"It's okay," Luna said in her soft lilted voice.

At that moment, Harry came back into the room and sat down. He looked perfectly fine as if nothing happened.

"So, are you going over the curriculum Professor?" Luna asked Sam.

"Please Luna, we're outside of school. You can call me Sam." Luna nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, Sam got a new book," Dean teased. "Highlight of his week that is."

"Dean…" Sam frowned. Ron laughed a little, reminded of him dragging Hermione out of Flourish and Blotts after discovering a new book on Ancient Runes.

"Just stating facts is all," Dean shrugged.

Neville cleared his throat, looking around to see if anyone was listening. "Is there any truth to that article in the Prophet, sirs?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other and frowned. They were going to have to answer the question sooner or later. They'd brushed on the topic of course in class, to quell any rumours.

"The thing you have to know Neville is I made a deal to save my brother it was a stupid decision. But I'd do it again. In a heartbeat, no hesitation. That article tried to say that we were tainted somehow by Hell. We were affected, sure, but it didn't change who we were."

"We still put our shoes on the same way you do," Sam smirked. "Unless there's a magic spell for that."

Hermione laughed.

"Point is, we had good intentions. I wanted to save my brother. Sam fought the devil and saved the world. Ended up in Hell for his trouble," Dean continued. Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, Sammy."

"It's fine," Sam answered.

"So, the big guy… the horns and pitchforks." Ron tried to play off his surprise.

"Yeah." Sam grimaced. "The real deal. My brother's point is that we've made mistakes, but we try our best." His words were still calm, but internally begging for a subject change.

"You had to make hard decisions for the greater good." Harry nodded.
"Pretty much," Dean nodded. "Actually, we should probably ask, what do you guys think of the classes?"

"I find them quite enjoyable." Luna smiled. Dean and Sam nodded.

"It's all a little intimidating to be honest." Neville frowned.

"I know it's getting a little intense now, but you have to know what's out there," Dean told them.

"I don't mean any offence; I was just thinking it's maybe a lot for some people. Trust me, I know what lengths You-Know-Who will go to."

"Neville, you can handle it. You did great in the classes last year. You went with us to the Ministry," Harry told him.

"But you faced him," Neville pointed out.

"You should be confident with your abilities kid." Dean slapped the boy on the back. "You're badass."

Neville looked surprised but gave a weak smile.

"I think the classes are fine," Harry told them. "The memories are a good idea. Shows it's not fun and games."

"That's the effect we were going for," Dean grinned.

"It's almost like stepping into one of the portraits at Hogwarts," Luna chirped as she sat back down after ordering another round of Butterbeer.

"In what way?" asked Harry, confused.

"We can't physically interact with anything; it's like a three-dimensional portrait."

"Sure, Luna," Ron nodded, only to placate her.

The sky was beginning to get dark, so both teachers and students picked up their things and began the walk toward the castle.

When they arrived, they were met with the Great Hall decorated for the Halloween Feast. Cakes and pies were spread all along the tables, and Dean dug in with relish. Sam laughed to himself as he watched his brother. It was an amazing meal, and they both had more than their fill.

Later that evening, they retreated to their rooms, all the while Dean complained of a stomach ache.

"Dude, shut up. It's your own fault. You shouldn't have eaten that last slice of pie."

"Worth it!" Dean said dramatically, throwing his hands up in the air as he swung the door to his room closed. Sam shook his head. Someday he would knock some sense into his brother, but apparently, today was not the day.