A few weeks after that Quidditch practice Sam was standing before one of his classes, a group of fifth years, and was attempting to teach them non-lethal incapacitation methods. A few of them had figured it out to at least some extent but the majority of the class was still struggling with a full body-bind curse. "Remember," he said, striding between the pairs of students as they took turns attempting to hex each other. "Visualize immobilizing them. You aren't trying to kill them, you are trying to keep them from killing you."

"I'm bloody well trying," One Slytherin grumbled under his breath.

Sam smiled encouragingly at the student in question and winced good-naturedly as his partner immobilized him. He gave her a thumbs up and continued his walk. Over the weeks that he had been at Hogwarts he had grown quite fond of his new House. The Slytherin students were eager to learn and displayed an abundance of tenacity and grit. He often found himself reminding himself just how unfairly the books had treated them. Gryffindors were a prideful bunch, Sam found himself thinking more and more often. In addition to that he had more Slytherins in his office than any other House, all of them eager to drink in knowledge and master the spells he taught them. It had once gotten to the point when he had so many students in his office that he suggested moving the impromptu lesson into their dormitory room. Almost every Slytherin had shown up to it, though it seemed most of them had simply wanted to catch a glimpse of the famous Dark Wizard catcher.

"Professor," a cold voice called from the back of the room. Sam looked up and saw a hooked-nose dark-haired wizard striding between the students. "Might I have a word, please?"

"Of course, Severus," Sam said easily. In addition to everything else he had grown quite fond of Snape. He may have been cold to Harry in the books but it seemed that was limited to Gryffindor House. Whenever Sam had spoken to him he always enjoyed their talks. "Class, continue practicing the Body-Bind Curse. Those of you who have successfully executed it three times practice your Stunning Spells. Make sure you put cushions behind you first."

Sam led the way into a back room and Snape closed the door behind them. "What's up, Severus?" Sam asked, noting the look of annoyance on the Potions Teacher's face.

"As you are undoubtedly aware the Dementors have been posted around the school," Snape said.

Sam's face grew sour. He was aware. The dark hooded figures were a menace as far as he was concerned. He had had more than one student come to him with pale faces and shaking hands. He had taken to having a large supply of Honeydukes chocolate on hand at all times since these events had taken place. He had at first sent them to the hospital wing, but Crowley seemed to be mocking every student that they sent his way. It seemed only the Ravenclaws were marginally safe from this, granted this was only so because they responded back with just as much snark and sarcasm as the King of Hell meted out. "Yes, have they been causing trouble?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Moreso than usual?"

"Unfortunately," Sam said, his face as sour as Sam's. "It seems as though they are growing restless and moving closer and closer to the castle. Evidently one was even found within the Great Hall last night."

"That can't be tolderated," Sam said flatly. "Seriously. If we let that slide, what next? One of them getting hungry and giving the Kiss to a student?"

"Precisely my point," Severus nodded, the barest hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. "Unfortunately the teachers here have our hands tied as they are here on the orders of the Minister of Magic himself."

"Which means that you can't really do anything to them or it will come back on you," Sam understood precisely where Severus's position left him. "Can't the Headmaster do something to help?"

"I would prefer not to worry Dumbledore with this information," Snape said. "Particularly when my students tell me that you handled the Dementors on the train so easily."

"Understood, Severus," Sam said softly. "I'll deal with it."

"You have my thanks," Snape said, turning to the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to Sam with an inquisitive look on his face. "One more thing. Your brother, were you aware that he has been traveling into the Forbidden Forest at night for the past two weeks?"

This being news to Sam, he frowned thoughtfully. "No, I hadn't," he said slowly. "How did you find this out?"

Snape shrugged. "I've made it a point to take a walk outside at night for some time," he said softly, a distant expression on his face. "These walks are usually quite late at night. I've seen your brother return from the Forbidden Forest several times now, his clothes often torn up. I understand that he has a rather lackadaisical view on creatures as he has quite the reputation of being good with creatures, but there are creatures in there that are better left alone."

"I appreciate the heads up, Severus," Sam said. "I'll talk to him about it, but Dean usually has a good reason for doing things."

"Nonetheless, I thought that you would like to know," Snape nodded a goodbye at Sam as he went about his way. Sam followed after him and continued his lesson, his mind abuzz with thoughts of what Dean could be doing in the Forbidden Forest. He resolved to ask his brother about this the very next time he saw him.

In another classroom Castiel was giving his lesson, detailing the various methods in which Muggles traveled. "You see class," Castiel was saying, running a hand over the motorcycle he had conjured. "Muggles tend to associate things such as masculinity with their vehicles."

One of the students raised a hand and Castiel nodded at them. "Professor, how fast did you say these things can go?"

"I believe the maximum speed on bikes such as these is around one hundred and twenty miles per hour," Cas said, patting the bike's leather seat. "Why do you ask?"

"Well… Muggles don't have magic do they?" the student asked slowly. "Is there some contraption or something that can save them if they fall off of it going that fast?"

Castiel shook his head. "There is not, though I am glad that you asked that as it brings me into my next point." He waved his wand and the bike vanished. "You see, Muggle males tend to associate things like speed and danger with masculinity. This is especially true amongst older muggles as they attempt to avoid getting what is called the 'dad-bod'"

This statement caused a mass of hands to shoot into the air and Castiel patted the air with both hands. "Calm down, I will be happy to explain this." He was about to do just that when the bell signaling the end of classes rang. The students groaned loudly and began to gather up their things. "Ah, yes, well I suppose we will just have to wait for next class to discuss the dad bod. For homework I would like each of you to speculate what the term dad bod could mean. A few paragraphs will do for now. Class dismissed."

The students filed out of his classroom and Castiel sat down with a sigh of relief. Teaching humans was a tedious thing, particularly as he was still adjusting to being one himself. He had to admit that having access to magic was a wonderful thing indeed as he had far more magic at his disposal than he would as an angel. Even teleportation was a feasible thing here, though he had yet to try it.

"Tell me, are you deliberately trying to scar the students?" A snide voice asked, "Or are you just simple?"

"What do you want Crowley?" Castiel asked with a sigh. "Nothing to do at the hospital wing?"

"Fortunately there is not," Crowley said, though he seemed somewhat annoyed by this than anything. "Thought I would see what it is you were teaching the little prats. I am happy to see I was not disappointed."

"Did you have some other purpose for being here, or were you here simply to annoy me?" Castiel gathered up the homework he had collected for the day and placed it under his arm. "I have papers to grade."

"No, just thought I would check up on my formerly feathered friend." Crowley offered Castiel a drink from his flask in a gesture of companionship but the angel shook his head. "More for me then. Seen Moose or Squirrel lately?"

It was a fair question. After the first several days the four had rarely had a spare moment to see one another. Dean was busy with his classes and assisting the Gryffindor Quidditch team, something Sam apparently felt was cheating. Sam was busy offering extra courses to the Slytherins, though to be fair he had helped the other Houses as well though to a lesser extent. Crowley was on call at all hours of the night at the hospital wing and it seemed that there were more nights than not that a student managed to do something to injure themselves. On Castiel's part he was constantly thinking of new lessons to keep the students interested which he found to be rather challenging. After exploring the mystery of strippers he had moved onto the devotion showed to their pets. This was the first day he had gone over vehicles and he was certain that this was a lesson that would take up a majority of the year. He hoped, at least.

"No, they have been rather busy of late," Castiel said shortly, brushing past Crowley and heading towards his private quarters. He nodded to students as they greeted him in the hallway, noting that Crowley was following behind him. "As have you and I."

"A fair point, which is precisely why I thought we could have a little naughty night out," Crowley said with an evil chuckle. "Bit of a relaxer, you see."

"I have papers to grade," Castiel said, though the concept of spending a night drinking with Sam and Dean was a tempting one. In addition he could most likely gain some insight from them about possible lesson plans.

"That's the good thing about being a teacher," Crowley said, smirking. "Make your own hours. At least, you can with magic at least. Enchant a quill to write for you or something to that effect. Simple. Or fail the lot of them for all I care."

"I can't fail them simply because I wish to drink with you three," Castiel said a bit loudly as he turned into his quarters.

"Whose drinking?" Dean asked, looking up from where he was reading one of the papers Castiel had graded. "Cas I thought we told you to cool with the whole stripper thing, this kid knows way too much."

"I could not simply stop a lesson halfway through," Castiel argued. It was then that Castiel noted the various cuts and scrapes that adorned Dean's neck and arms. He guessed that his shirt had many more wounds of a similar variety. "Dean, what happened to you?"

Dean glanced down at his arms and pulled his sleeves down some. "Nothing, they just like playing a bit rough."

"They?" Crowley asked, pulling a tub of something out of his coat and tossing it to Dean. "Apply that to your wounds and they won't even scar. Come to me if you get any nastier ones. Can't have you dying now can we?"

"So I hear we are going drinking tonight?" Dean said, pocketing the tub and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I bet they have some awesome magical booze."