Professor Umbridge

Dean was the first to wake the next morning, when he rolled over and his scars tugged harshly. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and pulled open his curtains. The first thing he noticed was that John's curtains were outside open, and that at some point in the night, Sherlock had made his way to their dormitory. Dean attempted to get dressed, but his scars were now so tight he couldn't lift his arms enough to take off his pajamas. He sighed. It was definitely time to go to the hospital wing, so he threw his cloak around himself and hoped that no one would notice he wasn't dressed at breakfast. He wanted to eat before he went. He stood awkwardly, just as Seamus was beginning to stir.

'Go to the hospital wing,' John mumbled in his sleep as Dean passed.

'I'm going, jeez,' Dean sniggered. He laughed again at a notice the Weasley twins had put up looking for testers for their merchandise, and carefully made his way down the marble staircase. He knew without looking that Cas wasn't there. He was rarely at breakfast, even when he was feeling okay.

Dean was barely in his seat before Sam was throwing himself down in the next seat.

'Are you okay?' Sam asked. 'It was full moon last night.'

'Yep. Totally fine.'

Sam looked down at his legs. 'You're… still in your pjs.'

Dean rolled his eyes. 'Fine, so they're a little tight, no big deal.'

'That's your own fault for not taking the potion Cas gave you.'

'Whatever, Sam,' Dean grumbled.

Professor McGonagall came around with their timetables, which Dean didn't look at, then Harry and Ron came in with Hermione arguing with the twins.

'You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long,' Fred was saying. 'You've got your exams coming up and they'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw.

'Yeah, fifth year sucks,' Dean agreed.

'That why you're doing it again?' Sam teased.

'That implies that I actually did it the first time, which I did not.'

Then Sherlock and John arrived, neither of them looking particularly well-rested. Hermione handed them their timetables but neither of them said a word.

Dean finished his breakfast and stood. 'Right, I gotta go, I'm tired of looking at all your ugly faces.'

'Gonna go look at a prettier face?' Sam smirked.

'Yep. Madam Pomfrey's up there waiting for me.'

'Aren't you coming to History of Magic?' Hermione asked.

'Yeah, like I would go to History of Magic,' Dean laughed.

'Dean, you can't skive off in front of a prefect,' Hermione frowned.

'I'm not "skiving off", I'm going to the hospital wing. You wouldn't dock me points for being injured, would you?' He gave her a charming smile and she rolled her eyes.

'No,' she said begrudgingly.

'All right then, see you squares later.'

Dean made his way back up the stairs, and his back was burning by the time he got there. He took a moment to catch his breath and went inside, expecting to find Madam Pomfrey, but instead he saw Castiel standing at the end of the room, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He still looked exhausted and ill, but miles better than he had been the day before.

'Oh,' was all Dean managed. 'I didn't think you'd be here.'

Cas didn't move.

'But since you're here, can you take a look at my back for me? It's driving me crazy.'

Cas just stared at him for a moment, then nodded and pointed at the bed nearest to him.

Dean sat down and waited for Cas to collect his potions. 'Uh, could you help me with this?' he said, tugging on his shirt. 'I can't get it off.'

Cas nodded and helped Dean pull his arms through his shirt and over his head. Cas then sat on the bed behind Dean, and Dean smiled. He'd seen Cas treating things on other students' backs before, but he always stood to one side to examine them. This was for Dean and Dean alone. He could feel Cas trembling behind him, so he didn't say anything for a while.

Cas put his hand to Dean's back and he shivered. It was cold against his inflamed skin. Then Cas began methodically working a soothing potion into Dean's scars.

Dean took a chance when he felt Cas's shaking subside. 'Thought you'd come visit over the summer,' he said. 'You missed a bunch of crazy stuff, you know. Harry got attacked by Dementors and some Death Eaters tried to kidnap John. It was wild. What happened to you?'

Cas stopped, and Dean could hear him holding his breath.

'Me and Sam had to stay at Sirius's house for a while too, but you wouldn't have liked it there. It was gross.' Dean continued on, telling Cas all about his summer, but pointedly leaving out the parts about Demons, until Cas began to wear down. Dean chanced another question. 'I thought you were moving to Hogsmeade anyway. Wouldn't that save you a trip to King's Cross?'

Cas finally cracked, and Dean felt Cas's head drop onto his back.

Dean let out a small, surprised gasp. 'Cas, what's wrong?'

It took Cas a few gulps of air before he could get it out. 'Gabriel's gone,' he choked.

Dean's heart dropped. 'What do you mean he's gone?'

'We- we went back to our house. We were only supposed to be staying one more night to pack, but he disappeared before I woke up. I don't know where he went. He left me.' It was long overdue, and the words poured from Cas's mouth. 'I need him. I can't do this without him, he's supposed to keep me safe.'

'Keep you safe from what?'

Cas avoided the question. 'I can't do this alone.'

Dean finally turned to face Cas. His eyes were swimming and he was holding his arm tightly. 'Listen, I'm sorry about Gabriel, but you know what? I bet he's just fine. You told me yourself that he's the best you've ever seen at defensive magic, right?'

Cas nodded.

'And hey, the guy loves you more than anybody. I'm sure he wouldn't have left unless he thought it would be the best thing for you.'

Cas looked sceptical at this.

'Whatever he's running from, I'm betting he's just trying to keep it away from you.'

Cas's lip trembled and he held his head in his hands. 'I don't know what to do.'

'I got some experience with this kinda thing, and honestly, the only thing you can do is keep going. You're smart, you're practical, you can definitely do this… and you're not alone.'

Cas sniffed. 'Thank you, Dean.'

'This feels great, by the way,' Dean said, rolling his shoulders. 'Much better.'

'I'm not done yet, turn around. I need to soften the scar tissue.'

'That sounds more like the Cas I know, but with a way deeper voice. Congratulations on that, by the way.'

'I hadn't noticed.' Cas dabbed more potion on Dean's scars. This one stung.

'You know what might make you feel better?' Dean asked to distract himself.

'What?'

'Quidditch tryouts are soon. You should go for the Ravenclaw team.'

'I can't,' Cas said automatically.

'Why not?'

Cas considered it for a moment, as though he'd never thought about the why before. 'I don't have a broom,' he said eventually.

'You can borrow mine - hang on. Accio.' He Summoned his broom and passed it to Cas. 'It's only an old Nimbus two-thousand, but I never use it, so…'

Cas looked at it and a flash of fear crossed his face before he put it down. 'Thanks. Turn around.' Cas worked his way down Dean's back, soaking every inch of his scars in the stinging potion.

'Listen, Cas, I get it if you - if you don't feel like you can help me - with reading and stuff,' Dean said nervously. 'You've got a lot going on, so…'

'I promised I'd help you,' Cas said firmly. 'Researching for it was the only thing that kept me going this summer. I still need to speak to Sherlock, I have ideas, I just…'

'Needed a minute?'

'Yes. I should be ready by the end of the day. Can you wait until then?'

'I'm sure I can find a way to hang on,' Dean laughed.

Cas finally put the potion down. 'Done,' he said. 'They shouldn't give you any more trouble, at least not for a while.'

'Awesome.' Dean put his shirt back on himself, stretching his arms experimentally. He pulled out his timetable and squinted at it. 'Okay, so if I hurry I can still make it to History of Magic… That way I won't have to come up for an excuse for Snape… But do I really want to go to History of Magic? That's the real question.'

'You have to go to class, Dean.'

Dean looked up at him and his prefect badge. 'Damn, foiled again. Guess I'm going to History of Magic.'

'What else do you have today?' Cas asked.

'Uh, so Potions, Divination, Defence Against the Dark Arts, jeez, this is like the worst Monday ever.'

'I thought you liked Defence Against the Dark Arts,' Cas frowned.

'Yeah well, the new teacher rubs me the wrong way.'

Cas sighed. 'Something else to deal with this year. Will you meet me in the library after dinner?'

'Sure. Something to look forward to.'

Cas blushed and shooed Dean towards the door.

'By the way, how did you hide on the train? I looked for you.'

'Disillusionment Charm,' Cas said, pushing him out of the hospital wing.

'Seriously? That was some charm, I couldn't see you at all.'

'Go to class, Dean,' Cas said, blushing even redder, then closing the door.

Dean couldn't stop smiling as he climbed up to Gryffindor Tower. He'd finally got Cas to open up about something. He knew there was more, but it was a start, and now that they were working more closely together, he could keep trying to get more out of Cas.

He didn't exactly hurry to get himself dressed, and only made it to History of Magic with a few minutes to spare. Professor Binns didn't notice him come in, so he sat in an empty seat next to John, flicking bits of parchment at him to keep him awake.

'Dude, what's wrong with you?' Dean said to John during break.

John was staring into space, eyes unfocused. 'Erm… it's just all the magic and everyone around. I'll be fine, I just have to get used to it. Did you - did you find out anything about Cas?'

'Yeah, Gabriel's missing… Hey, do you think you can find him?'

John shook his head. 'I don't know him very well, so I wouldn't know where to start. If I could find one of his threads, I might be able to follow it, but it would be almost impossible.'

'His what?'

'Oh, that's how I've been seeing things lately. Lots of threads and colours. If I follow yours one way, I can see you at your house. If I follow it another way… I don't know, but I'm assuming it's a lot of Castiel. Your threads get fuzzy when he's around, I can't see him very well. '

Dean smiled at that, and watched Harry have a very awkward conversation with Cho Chang before they all headed to Potions. He sat beside John again, though he was more alert now he was down in the chilly dungeon.

'Settle down,' Snape said coldly, closing the door behind him. 'Before we begin today's lesson, I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are… ' His gaze rested on Dean for a moment and anger flared in Dean's stomach. 'I expect you to scrape an "Acceptable" in your OWL, or suffer my… displeasure. After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me. I take only the very best into my NEWT Potions class, which means some of us will certainly be saying goodbye. But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell, so, whether or not you are intending to attempt NEWT, I advise all of you to concentrate upon maintaining the high pass level I have come to expect from my OWL students.

'Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: if you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients, you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing. 'The ingredients and method are on the blackboard-' He flicked his wand and they appeared there 'you will find everything you need in the store cupboard, you have an hour and a half… start.'

Dean glanced up at the board, only to confirm what he already knew: he couldn't read Snape's handwriting. The words were too close together, even smaller than usual since it was a more complicated potion. They wobbled around on the board, refusing to make sense. Dean had made this potion before though, so he mostly went on instinct and memory. He thought he was getting it mostly right until about ten minutes before the end, when Snape called, 'A light silver vapour should now be rising from your potion.' Dean frowned at his. It was more of a smoky blue colour. John was stirring his own potion vaguely, which looked almost as good as Hermione's, but not quite.

Snape swept through the dungeon, inspecting everyone's potions. He stopped at Dean's, looking down at it.

'Winchester, what is this supposed to be?'

Dean's jaw tightened. 'The Draught of Peace.'

'Tell me, Winchester,' said Snape softly, 'can you read?'

The Slytherins at the front of the room sniggered loudly, and Dean's anger boiled.

'Yes, I can,' he growled.

'Really? What does the third line of the instructions say?'

Dean looked over at the blackboard, but couldn't make out the words. 'It says "eat me".'

'Twenty points from Gryffindor,' Snape snapped. 'Seeing as we'll be stuck with each other for another year, try and actually learn something this time. This mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco.'

The contents of Dean's cauldron vanished, and Snape did the same with Harry's.

'Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.'

Dean seethed while everyone brought their potions up, and went for a long walk at lunch. He would see Cas after dinner, he reminded himself. Cas would help him fix it. He could be normal. He could read Snape's instructions right to his ugly face. Dean took a deep breath. He wanted to skip Divination, but he promised Cas he'd try, so at the end of the lunch hour, he climbed all the way up to the North Tower, where he found Harry sitting alone, waiting for the silver ladder to drop so they could get into Trelawney's room. Harry looked thunderous, so Dean didn't bother him.

Dean took the seat nearest the window. The fumes in Trelawney's room always made him dizzy. The room filled and Trelawney began the lesson.

'Good day,' she said, in her usual dreamy voice. 'Welcome back to Divination. I have, of course, been following your fortunes most carefully over the holidays, and am delighted to see that you have all returned to Hogwarts safely - as, of course, I knew you would.

'You will find on the tables before you copies of The Dream Oracle, by Inigo Imago. Dream interpretation is a most important means of divining the future and one that may very probably be tested in your OWL. Not, of course, that I believe examination passes or failures are of the remotest importance when it comes to the sacred art of divination. If you have the Seeing Eye, certificates and grades matter very little. However, the Headmaster likes you to sit the examination, so… '

Her voice trailed away delicately, leaving them all in no doubt that she considered her subject above such sordid matters as examinations.

'Turn, please, to the introduction and read what Imago has to say on the matter of dream interpretation. Then, divide into pairs. Use The Dream Oracle to interpret each other's most recent dreams. Carry on.'

Dean ignored his book and watched the grounds outside instead, barely even noticing when John came to sit next to him. 'It's really intimidating doing this with an actual Seer, you know,' Dean joked.

John rolled his eyes. 'Let's just give this a go. I'll start, I could do with the practice. What was your last dream about?'

Dean thought about it. He didn't need his dreams interpreted, he knew exactly what the nightmares meant. 'In my last dream I forgot my robes and I went to class naked. What do you think that means?'

John gave him an exasperated look, but turned the pages of his book. 'Have you been feeling exposed at all? Or maybe you will be exposed…' John stopped and stared at the page, then said, 'Is Castiel in the dream?'

'Sometimes,' Dean smirked.

'Maybe it's something to do with him. You might find out what's going on with him.'

'It's not a real dream, John.'

But John ignored him, looking him straight in the face with glazed over eyes. 'Yeah, I think you will.' Then he rubbed his face, turning pale.

'You okay, buddy?'

'Yeah, sorry.'

John rested his head on the table for the rest of the lesson, only groaning quietly when Professor Trelawney tasked them with keeping a dream journal for the next month. Dean pushed away his frustration. Cas would help him. The bell rung and they all climbed down from the North Tower, complaining about the amount of homework they had been given.

When they entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom they found Professor Umbridge already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan from the night before. Dean saw John cover his mouth to hide his amusement.

'Well, good afternoon!' she said, once everyone had sat down.

A few people mumbled 'Good afternoon' in reply.

'Tut, tut,' said Professor Umbridge. 'That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply "Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge". One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!'

'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge,' they chanted back at her, except Dean, though she didn't appear to notice.

'There, now,' said Professor Umbridge sweetly. 'That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please.'

Dean bit his lip, and tucked away his wand, twiddling his quill around instead.

Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, extracting her own wand, which was unusually short, and tapped the blackboard sharply with it; words appeared on the board at once.

Her writing was slightly more legible than Snape's, so Dean tried mouthing the words. He made out the first line as Defence Against the Dark Arts. On the second line, he only got the word Basic before Professor Umbridge distracted him.

'Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it? The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your OWL year.

'You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please.'

She rapped the blackboard again and the first message disappeared. It was replaced by much more writing, which Dean didn't even attempt. By now, he was well practiced at pretending to write things down, when he was actually doodling on scraps of parchment.

'Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?'

There was a dull murmur of assent throughout the class.

'I think we'll try that again,' said Professor Umbridge. 'When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply, "Yes, Professor Umbridge", or "No, Professor Umbridge". So: has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?'

'Yes, Professor Umbridge,' rang through the room.

'Good,' said Professor Umbridge. 'I should like you to turn to page five and read "Chapter One, Basics for Beginners". There will be no need to talk.'

Dean had promised Cas and that was what got him as far as opening the book in the first place, but as soon as he saw the long blocks of text, he gave up. He knew how to pretend to read too, and followed John's pace, turning a page whenever he did, though Dean wasn't entirely certain John was reading it. He kept looking up at Umbridge, his face scrunched in concentration.

'Pink,' John muttered at one point.

Dean started to get bored, but when he looked up, he was shocked to see that Hermione had not even opened her book. She was staring fixedly at Professor Umbridge with her hand in the air. He stopped pretending to read and watched Hermione instead, as did most other people in the room after a few minutes.

When more than half the class were staring at Hermione rather than their books, Professor Umbridge seemed to decide that she could ignore the situation no longer.

'Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?'

'Not about the chapter, no,' said Hermione.

'Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.'

'I've got a query about your course aims.'

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. 'And your name is?'

'Hermione Granger.'

'Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully.'

'Well, I don't,' Hermione said bluntly. 'There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells.'

Dean blinked, surprised.

'Using defensive spells?' Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. 'Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. Surely you aren't expected to be attacked during class.'

'We're not going to use magic?' Ron exclaimed loudly.

'Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr -?'

'Weasley,' said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air, which Professor Umbridge ignored.

Harry and Hermione also raised their hands.

'Yes, Miss Granger, you wanted to ask something else?'

'Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?'

'Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?'

'No, but-'

'Then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the "whole point" of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way-'

'What use is that?' Harry said loudly. 'If we're going to be attacked, it won't be in a-'

'Hand, Mr Potter!'

Harry thrust his fist in the air and Professor Umbridge promptly turned away, but now several other people had their hands in the air.

'Well, Mr Weasley?'

'It's like Harry said, isn't it?' said Ron. 'If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk free.'

'I repeat, do you expect to be attacked during my classes?'

'No, but-'

Professor Umbridge talked over him. 'I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run at this school,' she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth, 'but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed - not to mention,' she gave a nasty little laugh, 'extremely dangerous half-breeds.'

Dean was irritated already, but now it came rushing to the surface and he ground his teeth.

'It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you.'

'Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?' Ron said hotly. 'Mind you, we still learned loads.'

'Your hand is not up, Mr Weasley!' Professor Umbridge trilled. 'Now, it is the view that of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is about. And your name is?' she added, as Parvati's hand shot up.

'Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?'

'As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,' said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

'Without ever practising them beforehand?' said Parvati incredulously. 'Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during the exam?'

'I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough-'

'And what good's theory going to be in the real world?' said Harry loudly, his fist in the air again.

'This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world,' Professor Umbridge said softly.

'So we're not supposed to prepare for what's waiting for us out there?'

'There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter.'

Dean finally snapped. He pulled his leg up and dropped it on the desk with a bang, drawing everyone's attention to the back of the room where he was sitting. He pulled up his trouser leg, showing them all the burn. He put his hand up mockingly. 'Where do you think that came from?' he said, staring at Professor Umbridge.

'Well-'

'It was a Demon. He cast Fiendfyre and burned down my house with my mother inside. Are you trying to tell me - the son of an Auror - that there's nothing dangerous out there?'

'There are no Demons anymore, Mr-?'

'Winchester.' He noted her eyes widen slightly with satisfaction. 'Listen, I don't know where you're getting your information, lady, but you're dead wrong. There are Demons. There are Death Eaters, and you're an idiot if you think otherwise.'

'I assure you, Mr Winchester, that the Ministry is more informed than you are on the matter.'

'Oh, you think so? Because MACUSA are on high alert right now, but if your crappy Ministry-'

'Do not you profanity in my class,' Professor Umbridge said shrilly.

'If your CRAPPY MINISTRY, thinks we're safe, they're damn wrong.'

'Well, Mr Winchester, if you find our government so terrible, perhaps you ought to return to your own.'

Shocked gasps ran around the room.

Dean's cheeks blazed. 'I'm outta here,' he said, getting up and kicking over his stool.

'Sit down, Mr Winchester.'

'What do you mean, Professor? I'm going back to my country, just like you said.' He snatched his bag up and stormed from the room, ignoring the shouts from behind him.

He stomped away from the classroom and he could hear the blood pounding in his ears. He tried not to get angry. He tried to get on with his classwork, but at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to throw his whole bag in the lake and take off home. Back to his father, back to the open roads. Maybe even to Ilvermorny. But Sam loved it here. And Cas believed in him. He sighed and slumped against a wall.

'Okay, you can do this,' he said to himself, taking a deep breath. 'Go for a walk, cool off, and come back to see Cas.' He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'You can do this.'

He dropped his bag off in Gryffindor Tower, then walked several laps of the lake, working off his anger and frustration. He knew he did want to see Umbridge's squashed face again, at least that day, so he decided to go down to the kitchens to eat his dinner early, and spend some time with the House-elves.

Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Morgan Teri Befan, Guest and Time Lord Consultant for the reviews! See you again soon!