In the Hog's Head

Two whole weeks passed before the subject of teaching came up again. In that time Cas had invited Dean to his Quidditch practice a few more times. He got to watch Cas's skills increase far beyond his natural ability with a broom, and as he became a sharp, decisive Chaser. It was a new colour on Cas, but Dean liked it and couldn't wait to watch his first real match.

They still spent a lot of time in the library too, and they were there when Hermione finally worked up the courage to bring it up.

'I was wondering,' she said to Harry, 'if you'd thought any more about Defence Against the Dark Arts.'

''Course I have,' Harry said grumpily, 'can't forget it, can we, with that hag teaching us-'

'I meant the idea I had about you teaching us.'

Dean put down his book to look at Harry expectantly.

'Well,' he said slowly, 'yeah I've thought about it a bit.'

'And?' Hermione said eagerly.

'I dunno… You did listen to what I said about a load of it being luck, didn't you?'

'Yes, Harry,' Hermione said gently, 'but all the same, there's no point pretending that you're not good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, because you are. You were the only person last year who could throw off the Imperius Curse, you can produce a Patronus, you can do all sorts of stuff that full-grown wizards can't, Viktor always said-'

Ron rounded on her so fast he appeared to crick his neck. Rubbing it, he said, 'Oh yeah? What did Vicky say?'

'Ha ha,' Hermione said in a bored voice. 'He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in the final year of Durmstrang.'

Ron was looking at Hermione suspiciously. 'You're not still in contact with him, are you?'

'So what if I am?' Hermione said coolly, though her face was a little pink. 'I can have a pen-pal if I-'

'He didn't only want to be your pen-pal,' Ron said accusingly.

Hermione shook her head and ignored him. 'Anyway, what do you think? Will you teach us?'

'Well… Only if Dean helps. And it'll just be you lot, right?'

Hermione looked anxious again. 'Now don't fly off the handle again, please, but I really think you ought to teach anyone who wants to learn. I mean, we are talking about defending ourselves from Voldemort. Oh, don't be pathetic, Ron. It doesn't seem fair not to offer the chance to other people.'

Harry considered it for a moment, then said,' Yeah, but I don't think anyone else will want to be taught by me. I'm a nutter, remember?'

'Well, I think you might be surprised how many people would be interested in what you have to say,' Hermione said seriously. 'Look, you know the first weekend of October's a Hogsmeade weekend? How would it be if we tell anyone who's interested to meet us in the village and we can talk it over?'

'Why do we have to do it outside school?' said Ron.

'Because I don't think Umbridge would be very happy if she found out what we were up to.'

Dean became more nervous as the Hogsmeade weekend drew closer. It showed in his work, and Castiel made him stop writing one evening.

'You're not focused, Dean,' he said, gently taking the quill from Dean. 'What's wrong?'

Dean shrugged. 'I dunno… it's this teaching thing… I don't know what kind of help I'll be.'

Cas cocked his head. 'Why not? You help me.'

'You're already super smart, all you needed was time and practice,' Dean shrugged.

'And you taught Harry.'

'Harry knew what he was doing, he just needed the right spells.'

Cas smiled at him. 'Dean, this is exactly why you'll be a good teacher. You can tell what someone needs to learn, and that's the most important skill a teacher has.'

A warm glow filled Dean's chest. 'You really think so?' he said. 'Even though - you know - this stuff is hard for me?' He gestured at the papers in front of them.

'I think you've done well enough with me, without needing too much paperwork.'

Dean allowed himself a small smile. Cas had improved a lot already. Without the stress of working in the dungeon, and Snape breathing down his neck, his confidence in potion making had grown and he was already practicing fourth-year potions again. He still hesitated in touching some of the more volatile ingredients and tending to the fire, but his determination to get better at it pushed him through.

'And don't think I don't know that you buy extra ingredients to practice with,' Cas said, and Dean's cheeks burned. 'If that isn't teacher material, then I don't know what is.'

'You're not too shabby yourself, you know,' Dean said to Cas, picking up his quill again. 'Maybe you ought to give it a try.'

'I think Defence Against the Dark Arts is more urgent than anything I could teach, but I'm happy to help plan lessons.'

'Sounds good to me,' Dean grinned. 'We make a good team.'

'Yes, I think so too.'

The warm glow in Dean's chest spread all the way to his fingertips, but his focus did not improve, as Cas was all he could think about. They eventually gave up, and Dean accompanied Cas on his patrol duty.

'Am I supposed to be doing this?' Dean asked, climbing the stairs with him.

'Technically no, but I've given you permission.'

'You're breaking the rules for me?' Dean grinned.

'Bending them. There's a difference,' Cas said, checking behind a tapestry that concealed a passageway.

'If you say so,' Dean sniggered.

The morning of the Hogsmeade visit dawned bright but windy. After breakfast they queued up in front of Filch, who matched their names to the long list of students who had permission to visit the village. Both Cas and John appeared to have had a rough night. John was pale and pinched, wrapped in his hat and scarf, and Cas stared straight ahead, a twitch in his cheek. Dean put a hand on Cas's back and he leapt away as though shocked. 'Sorry,' Dean said, watching Cas rub his arm. 'Are you okay? You don't look so good. Maybe you should stay here.'

Cas shook his head. 'I want to come.'

'Well don't push it.'

'I won't.'

They walked behind John and Sherlock, who were holding hands, John's head resting on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock was whispering to him, but Cas and Dean couldn't hear what he was saying from their distance away.

Eventually, they all caught up with Harry, Ron and Hermione, and they all made their way through the village together.

'Where are we going anyway?' Harry asked. 'The Three Broomsticks?'

'Oh no,' said Hermione. 'It's always packed and really noisy. I've told the others to meet us at the Hog's Head, that other pub, you know the one, it's not on the main road. I think it's a bit… you know… dodgy… but students don't normally go in there, so I don't think we'll be overheard.

They walked through the main street, past Zonko's, which Cas gazed at mournfully, and turned up a side street, at the top of which stood a small inn. A battered wooden sign hung from a rusty bracket over the door, with a picture of a wild boar's severed head, leaking blood on to the white cloth around it. The sign creaked in the wind as they approached.

It was not at all like the Three Broomsticks, whose large bar gave the impression of cleanliness and warmth. The Hog's Head bar comprised of one small, dingy and very dirty room that smelled strongly of goats. The bay windows were so encrusted with grime that very little daylight could permeate the room, which was lit instead with stubs of candles sitting on rough wooden tables. The floor seemed at first glance to be compressed earth, but it actually turned out to be stone beneath accumulated filth.

The pub appeared to cater to a more unusual clientele, and keeping your face covered seemed to be somewhat of a fashion in the Hog's Head. There was a man at the bar whose whole head was wrapped in dirty grey bandages, though he was still managing to gulp endless glasses of smoking, fiery substance through a slit over his mouth; two figures shrouded in hoods sat at a table in one of the windows; in a shadowy corner beside the fireplace sat a witch with a thick, black veil that fell to her toes; and in one of the booths, they only got a glimpse of the man's bearded jaw before he hastily threw his cloak over his face.

'I don't know about this, Hermione,' Harry muttered as they crossed to the bar, looking at the witch in the veil. 'Has it occurred to you that Umbridge might be under there?'

Hermione cast an appraising eye over the veiled witch. 'Umbridge is shorter than that woman,' Hermione said quietly. 'And anyway, even if Umbridge does come here, there's nothing she can do to stop us. I've checked the rules and we're not out of bounds; I specifically asked Professor Flitwick whether students are allowed to come in the Hog's Head, and he said yes, but he advised me to bring our own glasses. And I've looked up everything I can think of about study groups and homework groups and they're definitely allowed. I just don't think it's a good idea to parade what we're doing.'

'No,' said Harry, 'especially since it's not exactly a homework group you're planning, is it?'

The barman sidled towards them out of the back room. He was a grumpy-looking old man with a great deal of long grey hair and beard. He looked vaguely familiar.

'What?' the barman grunted.

'Seven Butterbeers, please,' said Hermione.

The barman reached beneath the counter and began pulling dusty, dirty bottles, which he slammed on the bar.

'Fourteen Sickles,' he said.

Harry handed over the money and they all retreated to the table furthest from the bar.

John's eyes roved over the barman, stared up at the ceiling, then finally landed on the hooded man. His face was still hidden, but he was sitting completely still, clearly paying them close attention. John squinted at him, but the man didn't seem to be threatening at all. Perhaps he was a regular, concerned by a large group of Hogwarts students that suddenly seemed interested in the Hog's Head. John closed his eyes, leaning against Sherlock. Neither of them had the energy to pay much attention to Hermione, much less a random stranger in the Hog's Head.

'You know what?' Ron murmured, looking over at the bar with enthusiasm. 'We could order anything we liked in here. I bet that bloke would sell us anything, he wouldn't care. I've always wanted to try Firewhisky-'

'You - are - a - prefect,' Hermione snarled.

'Oh,' said Ron. 'Yeah…'

'You're not missing much,' Cas said, wrinkling his nose. 'It isn't very nice.'

'Who is supposed to be meeting us anyway?' Harry asked.

'Just a couple of people,' Hermione said, checking her watch and looking anxiously at the door. 'I told them to be here about now and I'm sure they all know where it is - oh, look, this might be them now.'

The door of the pub opened. A thick band of dusty sunlight split the room for a moment and then vanished, blocked by the incoming crowd of people.

First came Neville with Dean Thomas and Lavender, who were closely followed by Parvati and Padma Patil with Cho and one of her friends. Then Luna Lovegood; then Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson, Colin and Dennis Creevey, with Sam, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, Molly Hooper, some other Hufflepuffs that they didn't know, the three other Ravenclaw boys in their year, Anthony Goldstein, Michael Corner and Terry Boot, Ginny and, bringing up the rear, Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins.

'A couple of people?' Harry said hoarsely. 'A couple of people?'

'Yes, well, the idea was quite popular,' Hermione said happily. 'Ron, will you pull up some chairs?'

The barman froze in the act of wiping out a glass with a rag so dirty it looked as though it had never been washed. Possibly, he had never seen his pub so full.

'Hi,' said Fred, reaching the bar first and counting everyone, 'could we have… twenty-seven Butterbeers, please?'

The barman glared at him for a moment, then, throwing down his rag irritably as though he had been interrupted in something very important, he started passing up dusty Butterbeers from under the bar.

'Cheers,' said Fred, handing them out. 'Cough up everyone, I haven't got enough gold for all of these…'

Harry rounded on Hermione as people began rummaging in their robes for coins. 'What have you been telling them?' he hissed. 'What are they expecting?'

'I told you, they just want to hear what you've got to say,' she said soothingly, but added quickly, 'you don't have to do anything yet, I'll speak to them first.'

'Hi, Harry,' Neville beamed, sitting opposite Harry.

Cho sat down near Ron, and everyone else gathered around excitedly, pulling chairs with them. Once they were all seated and watching Harry expectantly, Hermione cleared her throat.

'Er,' she said, her voice slightly higher than usual out of nerves. 'Well - er - hi.'

The group focused its attention on her.

'Well… erm… you all know why you're here. Erm… I had the idea that - that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts - and I mean really study it, not the rubbish Umbridge is doing with us, because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts. I thought it would be good if we took matters into our own hands.' She paused and glanced sideways at Harry. 'And by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just in theory, but doing the real spells-'

'You want to pass your Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL too, though, I bet?' said Michael Corner.

'Of course I do,' Hermione said at once. 'But more than that, I want to be properly trained in defence because… because…' she took a great breath and finished, 'because Lord Voldemort is back.'

The reaction was immediate and predictable. Cho's friend shrieked and slopped Butterbeer down herself; Terry Boot gave an involuntary twitch, Padma Patil shuddered, Neville gave an odd yelp that he managed to turn into a cough, and Sherlock and Castiel both flinched violently, Sherlock smashing his elbow into the table.

'Well.. that's the plan, anyway,' said Hermione. 'If you want to join us, we need to decide how we're going to-'

'Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?' said a blond Hufflepuff boy in a rather aggressive voice.

'Well, Dumbledore believes it-' Hermione began.

'You mean Dumbledore believes him,' said the boy, nodding at Harry.

'Who are you?' Ron said rudely.

'Zacharias Smith,' said the boy, 'and I think we've got a right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back.'

'Look,' said Hermione, intervening swiftly, 'that's not what this meeting was supposed to be about-'

'It's okay, Hermione,' said Harry. He looked Zacharias in the face. 'What makes me say You-Know-Who's back? I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone.'

The whole group seemed to have held its breath while Harry spoke.

Zacharias said dismissively, 'All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts. He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know-'

'If you've come to hear exactly what it looks like when Voldemort murders someone, I can't help you,' Harry said, his temper rising. 'I don't want to talk about Cedric Diggory, all right?'

John slid down in his seat next to Cas, turning a slight shade of green. Judging by his and Sherlock's expressions, he must have been seeing Voldemort's return again.

'So if that's what you're here for, you might as well all clear out now.' Harry cast an angry look at Hermione, but no one left their seats, not even Zacharias.

'So,' said Hermione, her voice high-pitched again. 'So… like I was saying… if you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, where we're going to-'

'Is it true,' interrupted another Hufflepuff girl, looking at Harry, 'that you can produce a Patronus?'

There was a murmur of interest around the group at this.

'Yeah,' Harry said, slightly defensively.

'A corporeal Patronus?'

'Er - you don't know Madam Bones, do you?'

The girl smiled. 'She's my auntie,' she said. 'I'm Susan Bones. She told me about your hearing. So - is it really true? You make a stag Patronus?'

'Yes,' said Harry.

'Blimey, Harry!' said Lee, looking deeply impressed. 'I never knew that!'

'Mum told Ron not to spread it around,' said Fred, grinning at Harry. 'She said you got enough attention as it was.'

'She's not wrong,' mumbled Harry, and a couple of people laughed.

'And did you kill a Basilisk with that sword in Dumbledore's office?' demanded Terry Boot. 'That's what one of the portraits on the wall told me when I was in there last year…'

'Er - yeah, I did, yeah,' said Harry.

Justin Finch-Fletchley whistled; the Creevey brothers exchanged awestruck looks and Lavender Brown said 'Wow!' softly.

'And in our first year,' said Neville to the group at large, 'he saved the Philological Stone-'

'Philosopher's,' hissed Hermione.

'Yes, that - from You-Know-Who,' finished Neville.

'And that's not to mention,' said Cho, 'all the tasks he had to get through in the Triwizard Tournament last year - getting past dragons and merpeople and Acromantula and things…'

There was a murmur of impressed agreement around the table. There was no denying that, at least, they had all been spectating throughout the tasks.

'Look,' Harry said, and everyone fell silent at once, 'I don't want to sound like I'm trying to be modest or anything, but… I had a lot of help with all that stuff…'

'Not with the dragon, you didn't,' said Michael Corner at once. 'That was a seriously cool bit of flying...;'

'Yeah, well…'

'And nobody helped you get rid of those Dementors this summer,' said Susan Bones.

'No,' said Harry, 'no, okay, I know I did bits of it without help, but the point I'm trying to make is-'

'Are you trying to weasel out of showing us this stuff?' said Zacharias Smith.

'Here's an idea,' Ron said loudly, before Harry could speak, 'why don't you shut your mouth?'

Zacharias flushed. 'Well, we've all turned up to learn from him and now he's telling us he can't really do any of it,' he said.

'That's not what he said,' snarled Fred.

'Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?' said George, pulling a long, lethal-looking metal instrument from inside one of his Zonko's bags. 'Or any part of your body, really, we're not fussy where we stick this.'

'Yes, well,' Hermione said hastily, 'moving on… the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry and Dean?'

Still unable to keep his mouth shut, Zacharias said, 'What exactly makes Dean qualified anyway. Even if Harry's done all this stuff, he hasn't.'

'He's plenty qualified,' Sam said hotly. 'Our dad's an Auror.'

'Yeah, your dad, not your brother.'

'What, you want a list of all the stuff I've done, is that it?' Dean said, gritting his teeth. ''Cause you're not gonna get one.'

'So why exactly should you teach me then?'

'Dean's done lots of stuff,' Sam said loudly. 'He's fought off a werewolf, and manticores-'

'Sam-'

'And he's tamed all sorts of magical creatures, and there was that troll once-'

'Sam, stop-'

'And one time, he even fought off a Demon all by himself, and he didn't even have a wand-'

'I said stop,' Dean barked, slamming a fist into the table, but regretting it when Cas flinched again.

'He saved me,' Sam said in a small voice, before finally clamping his mouth shut.

Then Harry spoke up. 'I wouldn't have got past half the things in the maze without Dean's help. Is that good enough for all of you?'

There was a murmur of general agreement.

'Right,' said Hermione, looking relieved that something had at last been settled. 'Well, then, the next question is how often we do it. I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week-'

'Hang on,' said Angelina, 'we need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice.'

'No,' said Cho, 'nor with ours.'

'Or ours,' added Zacharias.

'I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone,' said Hermione, slightly impatiently, 'but you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against Voldemort's Death Eaters-'

'Well said!' said Ernie Macmillan. 'Personally, I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our OWLs coming up! I'm at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher on us at such a critical period. Obviously, they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is actively trying to prevent us from using defensive spells-'

'We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defence Against the Dark Arts, is that she's got some… some mad idea that Dumbledore could use us as a kind of private army. She thinks he'd mobilise use against the Ministry.'

Nearly everyone looked stunned at the news, except Luna, who piped up, 'Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army.'

'What?' said Harry, completely thrown by this unexpected piece of information.

'Yes, he's got an army of Heliopaths,' said Luna solemnly.

'No he hasn't,' Hermione snapped.

'Yes he has,' said Luna.

'What are Heliopaths?' asked Neville, looking blank.

'They're spirits of fire,' said Luna, 'great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of-'

'They don't exist, Neville,' Hermione said tartly.

'Oh yes they do!' Luna said angrily.

'Oh and where's the proof of that?' snapped Hermione.

'There are plenty of eye-witness accounts. Just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you-'

'Hem, hem,' said Ginny, in such a good impression of Umbridge that several people looked around in alarm, then laughed. 'Weren't we trying to decide how often we're going to meet and have defence lessons?'

'Yes,' said Hermione at once, 'yes, we were, you're right, Ginny.'

'Well, once a week sounds cool,' said Lee.

'As long as-' began Angelina.

'Yes, yes, we know about Quidditch,' Hermione said tensely. 'Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet…'

This was rather more difficult; the whole group fell silent.

'Library?' suggested Katie Bell after a few moments.

'I can't see Madam Pomfrey being too chuffed with us doing jinxes in the library,' said Harry.

'Maybe an unused classroom?' said Dean Thomas.

'Yeah,' said Ron, 'McGonagall might let us have hers, she did when Harry was practising for the Triwizard.'

Harry looked sceptical at this.

'Right, well, we'll try to find somewhere,' said Hermione. 'We'll send a message round to everyone when we've got a time and a place for the first meeting.'

She rummaged around in her bag and produced a parchment and quill, then hesitated, as though she were steeling herself to say something. 'I - I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here. But I also think,' she took a deep breath, 'that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge or anybody else what we're up to.'

Fred reached out for the parchment and cheerfully wrote his signature, but several people looked less than happy at the prospect of putting their names on the list.

'Er…' Zacharias said slowly, not taking the parchment that George was trying to pass to him, 'well… I'm sure Ernie will tell me when the meeting is.'

But Ernie was looking hesitant about signing too. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

'I - well, we are prefects,' Ernie burst out. 'And if this list was found… well, I mean to say… you said yourself, if Umbridge finds out-'

'You just said this group was the most important thing you'd do this year,' Harry reminded him.

'I - yes,' said Ernie, 'yes, I do believe I said that, it's just-'

'Ernie, do you really think I'd leave that list lying around?' Hermione said testily.

'No. No, of course not,' said Ernie, looking slightly less anxious. 'I - yes, of course I'll sign.'

Nobody raised objections after Ernie, and when the last person had signed, Hermione slipped the parchment into her bag. There was a solemn feeling in the group now, as though they had all just signed some kind of contract.

'Well, time's ticking on,' said Fred briskly, getting to his feet. 'George, Lee and I have got items of a sensitive nature to purchase, we'll be seeing you all later.'

In twos and threes the rest of the group took their leave, too. Sherlock and John were some of the first to leave, John rushing for the door and stumbling on his way out. Sam left with the Creevey brothers, throwing Dean a reproachful look, but leaving without him.

Once outside, however, Cas pulled Dean aside, down another shadowy alley.

'Listen, I'm sorry I scared you,' Dean said.

Cas waved away his apology. 'I'm fine. Are you all right?'

'Of course I am,' Dean said gruffly.

'Dean.'

Dean rolled his eyes, and shrugged.

'You - you fought a Demon?'

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Cas, I really don't want to talk about it. It wasn't exactly fun for me.'

'You were alone?'

'Yeah…' Dean said reluctantly.

'Where was your father?'

'What?'

'Your father. Where was he? Shouldn't he have been taking care of you? That's what fathers are supposed to do, right?'

Dean shrugged again. 'He was busy. On a job somewhere.'

Cas gave him a long, searching look. 'Would you like to go with me to Scrivenshaft's?' he asked.

Dean blinked at the sudden change of subject. 'Sure, but why?'

'I've been watching the way you write. You were used to writing with those - those sticks that Muggles use, correct?'

'Pens? Yeah.'

Cas nodded. 'I think it'll help you if we get a quill that's shaped more in the way you're used to. It'll help your handwriting and make your own work easier to read.'

'Right. Okay.'

Dean went with Cas back through Hogsmeade, mystified, but relieved. Cas knew exactly when to drop the subject, but there were prickles on the back of Dean's neck the whole afternoon. He couldn't stop thinking about when he and Sam had been cornered by a Demon, and how he'd clawed his way out of it, dragging Sam with him.

Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Morgan Tara Befan for the review!

Okay, so I know I promised to be quicker last time but my excuse is there were delays with my new glasses arriving, and I got promoted so my whole schedule changed. Sorry and thanks for waiting! I hope you all had a great Christmas, and I'll see you all again next time.