(8/6/2019) Look! Look! I did an update in less than two weeks! -ish. The next one may not be so prompt with school starting again. Time to whip them whipper snappers into shape!

Thank you *Menatron the Angel of Ideas*", Mystery Guest Miles, Sailor Dragonball 87, SurrealCrazy, Tsuki Hanabira, and ngregory763 for the reviews! SurrealCrazy: I'll consider the suggestion (it's not a bad one), and Tsuki Hanabira: Mmmmmaybe? Probably not, but it's an interesting idea.

"Human," Dean repeated. "Like the way you were after you freaking carved a banishing sigil on your chest."

"Impressive," Ketch murmured, his eyebrows raised in appreciation. Dean threw him a glower.

"More or less," Castiel said. "When… if it happens, I will require help. I don't think God will be granting me anymore favors."

"Yeah, Cass," Sam told him softly. "Anything you need."

"Thank you."

A moment of silence passed as the Winchesters and their angelic friend processed this development or wracked their brains for some way around it. They were rudely interrupted by Ketch's bored sigh. "Well, if you'll excuse me gentlemen, I have far more pressing matters to attend to. Cheers."

The Man of Letters turned on his heel and began to leave. Remembering that the man had claimed to be a squib, not a Muggle, had Dean forming a query. "One sec," he called as he hustled over to join Ketch near the door. "Hey, you guys got more resources here, right?"

"Exceedingly so, yes."

"Can you look up something then?"

"I suppose."

Although Dean's trigger finger twitched at the man's haughty tone, he decided to follow through. "Sam's a wizard, you're a squib, but I'm a freaking Muggle. So why ain't I runnin' into all the anti-Muggle wards and all that crap?"

Ketch actually blinked, his confusion bleeding through for a mere moment. "I don't know. Something for the researchers to look into, I see. If they find anything, I'll let you know." Without further ado, Ketch left.

"And a 'good-fucking-bye' to you, too, dickwad," Dean muttered at the door. He turned to go back to Castiel's bed and was surprised to find himself crowded by Harry and the Weasley children. "Where you guys going?"

"We're not allowed to listen," Fred bitterly explained.

"Secret stuff, you know," George added.

"Dean, dear?" Molly called from her husband's bedside. "Would you mind joining us? And Sam, too, if your friend doesn't mind."

The brothers looked at Castiel. "Go," he said simply.

"So what's the scoop?" Dean asked as they approached Arthur Weasley's bedside.

"It's about what happened to Arthur," Moody growled quietly. "Attacked by a giant snake in the middle of the Ministry Headquarters. Not exactly easy or subtle, if y'ask me."

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam spotted what could have passed for an extraordinarily long earthworm wriggling its way through the shadows towards the bed. Whatever it was, the opposite end lay on the other side of the door. If the past several months had taught Sam anything, it was that the Weasley twins were almost unnaturally resourceful. He decided not to comment on what was undoubtedly some sort of listening device. "So you think the snake had some other purpose," Sam whispered.

"A scout, maybe," Moody replied. "Arthur here was just in the way."

"They couldn't find it anywhere afterwards," Tonks added.

"A vanishing snake ain't exactly the weirdest thing around you guys," Dean whispered wryly.

"Snakes and You-Know-Who are connected, Dean," Sam explained. "Apparently he could talk to them."

"What, like have a freaking conversation?"

"Yes," Moody affirmed. "Which means he's up to something, and whatever it is has to do with where you were," he told Arthur.

"This isn't the time," the Weasley patriarch said sternly. "At least my presence prevented the thing from having a better look-see about the department."

"Could it have taken anything?" Sam asked.

"Doubtful. The area I was at… well, let's just say that it's not exactly easy to get further in without guidance."

"So Potter said he saw this all happen," Moody pondered.

"Yes," said Molly. "You know, Dumbledore seems almost to have been waiting for Harry to see something like this…"

"Yeah, well, there's something funny about the Potter kid, we all know that."

"That's not fair," Sam inserted. "It's not as if whatever's going on is his fault."

"Didn't say it to be cruel," Moody huffed. "Just statin' facts."

"Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning," whispered Mrs. Weasley.

"'Course he's worried," growled Moody. "The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, Potter doesn't realize what that means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him then who knows what else he can do through the boy?"

The earthworm was retreating, Sam saw. "Look," he said firmly, "Harry's a kid. Whatever's going on weneed to be the ones taking care of it. He's got enough to worry about as it is."

"Of course, Sam dear," Molly said as she patted him on the arm. "But we need to make sure we understand all the possibilities."

"The boy is not possessed," Castiel called from his bed across the room. "I can tell."

Bewildered, Arthur asked Dean, "He can hear us?"

As most of the conversation had been held in a quiet tone (with two of the three other occupants of the ward being unknowns), it was a valid question. Not only that, but for all appearances Castiel appeared nonchalantly uninterested in anything other than the outdated issue of the Quibbler he was perusing. "Uh," Dean stammered as he fought to create a credible lie, "he's… uh…"

"Not human," Moody said, rolling the eye not covered by the bowler.

"How…?"

For the first time since they'd met, Alastor Moody shifted his hat so both eyes were visible. The left one was alarming. Electric blue, slightly overlarge, and encased in a bronze circle, it was now focused on Dean with an unnatural intensity. "Oh," the elder Winchester finally said.

Moody tapped the false eye directly on the wide, black pupil. "I can see through most anything with this, including stuff that thinks it can get away by hiding in human beings." His gaze narrowed. "Not a demon, that I can see. What is it?"

"An angel," Castiel replied loudly as he turned a page. "Are these articles fiction? I do not believe I have ever heard of a 'crumple-horned snorkack'."

"Wait," Sam said, "you know about demons?"

Moody thumped his walking stick down and gave a harrumph. "Boy, I've been an auror since before you and your brother there were sucking on your mother's teat. You think I've survived this long without knowing all the dark things that're out there?"

Although Moody was putting forth a good argument, both of the Weasleys appeared baffled. "Perhaps this isn't the time," Arthur said cautiously. "I think we should be certain before we jump to any conclusions."

It was a vague agreement to do something, but it at least drew the uncomfortable discussion to a close. Curious, Dean asked, "What's wrong with the bite, by the way? I thought you guys could, you know, do the wand wavy thing and be all good."

"Um. Well. Blasted thing won't stay closed. Healers think the poison might be countering any spells they use."

"Have you tried just stitching it up?" Sam suggested.

"Stitching?" Arthur asked interestedly. "What's that?"

It was the week before Christmas and Sirius was delighted to have his house full to bursting with guests. While the Winchesters tried to refuse the offer to join them, they were no match for Mrs. Weasley's insistence. Two boys without a family to speak of alone at Christmastime? Absolutely blasphemy in Molly's book. Sam and Dean, Castiel, and Kevin would all be there for the holiday, no matter what. They agreed, and the fact that she'd had her wand in hand at the time she made her ultimatum really had no bearing on their decision (at least that's what Dean told himself).

Kevin was the one who took the most convincing, as he was on the verge of translating the second trial. Dean promised him a surprise, however, and with absolutely no clue as to what that might be, Kevin's inquisitive nature eventually won through.

Because the gathering now included nearly a dozen people (five of the Weasleys, possibly six if this "Percy" decided to show, the two Winchesters, Kevin Tran, maybe Hermione Granger, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black) and an angel (Castiel having discharged himself from St. Mungo's by flying to Hogwarts the moment the Healers' backs were turned), the Black family table would be stuffed to capacity.

Decorations were in order, and with Sirius' house-elf mysteriously absent it fell to the current residents to make the Black estate festive. In the days leading to Christmas Eve all of the guests of 12 Grimmauld Drive worked to clean and brighten the gloomy abode. Cobwebs were swept, dust removed, and various clingy pests were magically evicted. One memorable afternoon was spent rooting out a small colony of Bundimuns who were discovered after Kevin, thinking it was a patch of mold, sprayed a member with Borax.

They managed to convince the Prophet not to touch the tablet until after Christmas Day by threatening to withhold the surprise. As a result, the young man ended up socializing with the other household guests close to his age: the Weasley twins.

The first time Dean turned into a giant canary he blamed it on Sam misfiring a spell. When the younger brother could breathe again, he vehemently denied it. The second time, however, Dean caught Kevin and George high-fiving out of the corner of his currently beady black eye.

A minor prank war ensued. Dean served Kevin a glue-covered butterbeer. George snuck what he called a Fainting Fancy into Sam's salad. Sam switched several of Fred and George's underpants and refused to say whose was whose. Fred shrank Sam's shoes just small enough to make them pinch. Unfortunately, Dean's bucket balanced over a door ended up on Sirius and the livid adult wizard effectively ended the minor skirmishes in his home.

There was a perceptible change in the only actual Black family member residing in the Black ancestral home. He sang, he laughed, he even entertained a spirited discussion over whether "Father Christmas" or "Santa Claus" was the appropriate title. In Sam's eyes, Sirius Black shed ten years of misery during those days and was happy to see the man come out of his shell. Dean, however, was more attuned to how Sirius' cheerful demeanor slackened when he thought no one was looking. When the holidays were over and school began again, no doubt Sirius would revert to his drunken, maudlin state.

A shady character named Mundungus Fletcher arrived Christmas Eve with an enormous tree. He worked it out of his coat with a bare minimum of fuss and proceeded to let loose a barrage of fairies(fortunately not the full-sized, controlled-by-a-mystic-book sort) onto the branches. Sam left for several hours on the same day to arrange Kevin's surprise, which left the Prophet in Dean's indelicate hands. Dean, Sirius, Kevin, and the Weasley twins ended up drunk on ale and butterbeer and nearlyconvinced Castiel to act as the proverbial angelic tree topper.

Except for Christmas Eve, Castiel spent his time making sure Meg didn't kill anyone. She complained about being left out and bored, but as they still hadn't broken the mystery of Hogwarts' ubiquitous devil's trap the demon was stuck. He managed to entertain her by taking her to some of the more obscure landmarks (including the defunct Chamber of Secrets and its putrid resident), and by being charmingly confused by her innuendos. It was rather disturbing how the demon got under his skin; not in the irritating way, but in a way that warmed him up and made him smile. If the angel thought about it too hard he came to a disturbing conclusion, one that he decided to explore after.

Left to her own devices, Meg spent the holiday wandering the halls and terrifying the ghosts, the paintings, Mr. Filch and Mrs. Norris, and those few students and teachers who'd remained.

There weren't enough beds at the Black home to accommodate everyone, but the Winchesters insisted they were fine with the floor and the couch. Kevin's portable room made for a third resting spot, and the Americans spent their Christmas Eve sleeping in a twinkling room smelling wonderfully of pine.

Kevin's suitcase popping open woke Sam and Dean the next morning. "I got presents!" he announced happily from the top of his ladder.

Sam put down his wand and Dean his gun. "Oh," Sam said blearily. There were, in fact, packages near both of the brothers' feet, cheerfully wrapped. "Wow."

"Holy crap," Dean said, astonished. "Who the hell gave us presents?"

"One's from Mrs. Weasley, at least," Kevin explained as he stepped out of his suitcase. Over his normal shirt and jeans was a hand-knit sweater with an open book stitched onto the front. In his hands was a box full of what looked like mini-pies. Much to Dean's delight, a similar package was in both his and his brother's piles.

"They showed up in the middle of the night," Castiel explained. He'd shed his trench coat for a white sweater with wings on the front. "House-elves dressed in Christmas livery."

"Oh, man," Sam groaned. "I didn't get anybody anything."

"Yes. You and your brother tend to skip this holiday. I assume it's because you have no extended family and it would be awkward to put on festivities with just yourselves for company."

"Thanks, Cass," Dean said flatly through a mouthful of mincemeat.

"Seize today, not tomorrow!," chirruped a book in Kevin's hands. "Hermione got this for me," he said. "It's some kind of planner."

The Hogwarts instructors looked through their piles and discovered presents from quite a number of the children in the house. Fred and George had given Kevin and the Winchesters vouchers for future inventions. Hermione had given Castiel a striped silk tie. Dean found a large box of various wizarding sweets, while Sam immediately began poring through his new copy of Dark Arts: A Legal Compendium.

While Kevin and Dean began a Bernie Bott's contest similar to the one the brothers had had on the Hogwart's Express, Sam gave Castiel a nod. He vanished and reappeared a few minutes later with Kevin's surprise in tow.

"Mom?" Kevin gasped.

"Oh, Kevin!" Linda Tran cried.

Kevin was apologizing profusely for sending his mother away while she wept and forgave him, creating an intimate scene the others were uncomfortable intruding upon. They snuck out of the living room, tiptoed through the portrait hallway (whose inhabitants did their best to shrink away from the angel in their midst), and went down the basement stairs to the dining room.

There they found a second awkward situation. Molly was weeping into Lupin's shoulder, an unopened box on the table. When Dean curiously checked the tag, it read: "To: Percy, Love: Mum, Dad, Your brothers and sister." "Guess he's not comin' to lunch."

Molly, who had begun to calm down, burst into a fresh bout of sobs. "Uh," Dean managed to stammer after getting Remus' glare, "I'll go see if I can get breakfast started."

As his brother retreated into the kitchen, Sam sat down. "Did he say anything?" he asked.

"No," Remus replied stiffly. "Didn't even bother to ask about his father."

"What's his deal, anyways?"

The other man sighed. "Percy has, unfortunately, taken the Ministry's ignorant stance regarding You-Know-Who's return and disparages his family's close association with Harry."

"Sounds like a dick. But he'll come around."

Molly leaned out of Lupin's arms. "How can you be sure?"

Sam gave her a gentle smile. "I did. Trust me, when he realizes his mistake he'll be back."

After dabbing the corners of her eyes with her apron, Molly stood up and gave Sam and hug. "Thank you." She gave one more sniff. "Does Dean know how to cook?"

"You'd be surprised."

Unconvinced, Molly marched herself to the kitchen. Remus sighed. "It's just like before, when You-Know-Who first came into power. Families on either side of the aisle, both certain their point of view is correct."

"But his is wrong," Castiel said. "Does Percy not understand the danger?"

"If he believed it, he might. But alas…" Lupin shrugged.

A series of quiet thumps heralded the arrival of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The children called out, "Hello!" and, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas," Sam said. After being elbowed in the stomach, Castiel repeated the phrase. "What's in the box?"

"A present for Kreacher," Hermione replied.

"Sirius' house-elf," Harry explained.

"Oh," Sam said. "Can I come? I haven't met him yet."

"Yes, of course!" beamed Hermione.

Harry and Ron, however, were apprehensive. "Just watch your legs, mate," the latter warned. "Wouldn't put it past him to stab you in the knee."

As all of Sam's experience with house-elves had been with Hogwarts' cheerful army, he was taken aback at the warning. Regardless, he followed the trio into the kitchen where Dean was showing Molly how Muggles fried bacon sans wand. They wandered to a dark corner and to a large, worn door opposite the pantry. Ron gave it an experimental knock. "He must be sneaking around upstairs," the boy surmised as he pulled on the handle. "Urgh."

Whereas the house-elves at Hogwarts, the oddball Dobby included, tended to look neat, clean, and tidy, Kreacher was not. He wasn't in residence, but the filth he slept in gave off the putrid stink of rot, mold, and some new nastiness that Sam suspected was unwashed house-elf. Photos of some of the same people who lined the entrance hallway were set here and there. Contrasting the rest of the cabinet, these were polished, carefully arranged, and even repaired where necessary.

Hermione placed her package on the top of the largest pile of rags. "I think I'll just leave his present here," she said before closing the door quietly. "He'll find it later, that'll be fine…"

"Come to think of it," said Sirius, emerging from the pantry from the opposite side carrying a large turkey, "has anyone actually seen Kreacher lately?"

It turned out Sirius' house-elf hadn't been seen since the first unexpected arrival of Harry and the Weasleys. The older wizard insisted Kreacher couldn't have left due to his connection to the house, but Harry contradicted his assumption by relating his encounters with Dobby who, at the time, had been tied to the Malfoy family.

"Malfoy?" Sam echoed. "As in Draco?"

"Yes," Sirius said darkly. "His father was a Death Eater. Not surprised his house-elf was off."

Recalling the extreme deference Dobby had bestowed upon Sam and his brother, as well as the worshipfulness with which the house-elf spoke of Harry, "off" was putting it mildly. Inwardly, Sam wondered if there was some sort of brain injury involved. "Well, I'm sure Kreacher will show up sooner or later."

"Long as he's not hiding upstairs snogging one of my mother's old bloomers the barmy old thing can stay away."

The boys guffawed, but Hermione looked offended. Not knowing which side to take, Sam merely shrugged and went to help Dean and Molly serve breakfast.

After a light meal the guests of 12 Grimmauld Place socialized or aided Molly, Linda, and Dean with preparing Christmas lunch. Sam managed to coax Sirius into telling him a bit of personal history, including his stint in Azkaban, by trading his own tale of growing up as John Winchester's son. Kevin used what he could recall from chemistry to give Fred and a George a few more ideas for their products. And Molly figured out a charm to help Linda fold enough dumplings for over a dozen houseguests.

They had lunch family-style, with everyone crowded around the table wherever they felt comfortable. Castiel made sure to find the most obscure corner possible; he had no wish to call attention to himself. Squished between Lupin and Moody, the angel was dismayed to discover food was starting to acquire taste. Of course, his celestially enhanced tongue still separated each molecule and transmitted the information as such, but at the very tail end of each bite… The turkey was moist. The dumplings complex. The pie sweet. It was a sign of his impending humanity and Castiel wasn't certain if he liked it or not.

The grand Christmas lunch was cleared in moments with wand-work. Molly packed a container for her husband and as soon as Mundungus arrived (in a car impossibly large on the inside) they traveled to St. Mungo's. Once there, Castiel was immediately waylaid by an indignant Healer who loudly chastised the angel for leaving without being discharged. Cass was dragged away for testing, bemused over his predicament.

They discovered Arthur Weasley up in bed, his bandages fresh, much to Molly's confusion. It turned out that Arthur and his healer had decided to take Sam's suggestion of stitches to heart. Unfortunately, the venom infecting Arthur's bite ate through the thread. He tried to hide his experiments with Muggle medicine from his wife to no avail. During Molly's increasingly louder demands for an explanation, her children slipped out of the room, fearful of being collateral damage. Dean was edging to the door as Molly finally snorted, "It sounds as though you've been trying to sew your skin back together, but even you, Arthur, wouldn't be that stupid."

"Well, I mean, Sam here brought it up and we thought—"

"Good luck," Dean said as he quickly patted his brother's shoulder and scurried to the door. Molly's, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THAT'S THE GENERAL IDEA?" followed him.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were just down the hallway. "Where you guys off to?"

"To get some tea, Mr. Winchester," Hermione said.

Uncomfortable with the formality, the so-called Hogwarts consultant asked, "It's just Dean outside of class, okay?" The children nodded. "Think they got coffee?"

"Probably," Harry replied. "Coming?"

"Sure."

They headed towards a set of stairs and began to climb. Portraits of past Healers lined the walls, some of whom looked decidedly sinister. One chased them through painting after painting trying to tell Ron and Dean that their freckles signified a bad case of something called "spattergroit", a disease whose remedy involved reptilian evisceration and public nudity. Dean threatened to throw paint thinner on the Healer and the medieval gentleman retreated.

"Dumbass," Dean growled as they ascended. He came to an abrupt halt, however, at the next landing where a blonde, blue-eyed idiot was grinning stupidly at them from the window. "The hell?"

"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed.

"Professor Lockhart?" Hermione gasped.

The addled wizard, dressed absurdly in lilac-colored sleeping robes, pushed out of the double doors and promptly stood nose-to-nose with Dean. "Well, I never!"

The hunter's eyebrows lifted. "What?"

"I'm quite certain I told them not to allow anyone to enter the area who is handsomer than me!"

"Them?"

"Yes! Them! If I knew who they were I would say so."

Dean glanced helplessly around at his students. Harry and Ron were busy holding in snorts of laughter while Ginny and Hermione looked on reproachfully. "He was our second year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Hermione explained. "He… um…"

The girl's voice turned the man's attention away from Dean. He stepped away and pulled a worn peacock quill from his pocket, his face once more split with an idiotic grin. "Why, hello! I suppose you're here for my autograph? How many would you like? I can do joined-up writing now, you know!"

"He used to be famous," Harry whispered to Dean as the others fended off Lockhart's attempts to sign various parts of their clothing. "Wrote books, but it turned out he was a big fraud."

"Yeah?"

Harry nodded. "We found him out and, well… let's just say his plan to wipe our memories didn't go the way he thought it would."

"Sounds like a dick."

"Quite."

A Healer had arrived and was currently urging the children to follow them into the ward marked "Spell Damage." From what Dean could make out, this Lockhart fellow was one of the long-term patients. They were let into a locked ward, where the addled wizard immediately sat down amidst stacks of his own photographs and began rapidly putting his signature to them. "Well," the nurse said cheerfully, "I must finish giving out the Christmas presents, I'll leave you all to chat."

While Lockhart attempted to instruct the children to put the signed photos into envelopes (while casting sullen glances over the handsomer intruder), Dean looked around. There were few other patients here, but their bedsides had the look of a more permanent residency. It reminded the hunter uncomfortably of Castiel's stint in a mental ward after having absorbed Sam's Hell-induced insanity. At least here Dean didn't think he'd have to worry about a contingent of angels showing up.

Dean eyed the nurse as she dropped a small pile of items at a woman who barked and a swaying, tentacled plant at a man who was oblivious to his surroundings. When a stately elder witch and a familiar young man emerged from the back two beds, the Healer exclaimed, "Oh, Mrs. Longbottom, are you leaving already?"

The name Longbottom caught Harry's attention first, and by his furtive glances Dean guessed he was trying to avoid calling attention to their classmate. Ron, as usual, was blissfully unaware of Harry's intent and called out, "Neville!"

Ron and Hermione jumped up to cheerfully greet their fellow Gryffindor. Ginny followed close behind, but Harry was apprehensive. "Something up?" Dean asked.

The boy glanced past the witch and her grandson to the curtained area in the back of the ward. "It's nothing."

"You're a crappy liar, dude."

Neville was shrinking and reddening with every second that passed. The color deepened when Mrs. Longbottom scolded her grandson for being embarrassed of his parents. "My son and his wife," she proclaimed, "were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

Mrs. Longbottom expounded a bit on her son's and daughter-in-law's illustrious career as Aurors, but Dean heard little of it. A wraith of a woman had emerged from the back curtains, her hair wispy and white. She shuffled forward gingerly as if afraid to make a single sound, but when she saw she had Neville's attention, she began gesturing at him to come closer. The boy approached, his hand outstretched, and she dropped a used gum wrapper into his palm.

"Very nice, dear," Mrs. Longbottom said patronizingly. Neville, however, quietly thanked his mother. Pleased by her present, the woman then turned to go back to where she'd come from, humming a tuneless melody.

Once the Longbottoms had left, the children expressed their dismay. The only one who'd already known Neville's secret was Harry. "That's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for," he explained, "using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Dean muttered. He peered thoughtfully at the curtains and made a mental plea.

The flapping of enormous wings signaled Castiel's abrupt arrival. Lockhart gave a squawk in protest. "Another one! Now this is just far too much. I demand these handsome figures be removed at once!"

Castiel cocked his head over at the former professor. "I can fix that."

"No, don't," Ron hissed. "Trust us, the world's better off this way."

"If you insist."

"C'mon," Dean urged as he took his friend's elbow. He pulled the angel to the back of the ward. "Can you see if you can do something for these two?"

Castiel nodded and disappeared behind the curtains. They all waited, breathless, while Lockhart continued to sign his photos and mutter about his good looks being overshadowed by two uninvited Americans. The angel emerged several minutes later and shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"Damn. Why not?"

"What was done to them damaged their very souls." Hermione let out a small, horrified gasp. "It's similar to what Sam endured. The only thing I could do for them now would be to grant them peace."

"No, just leave them be." Dean sighed. "Thanks, Cass."

The angel gave a furtive glance to the window on the exit. "I should go. Healer Thadwick keeps trying to poke his wand in places I do not think are necessary." A rush of feathers later and Castiel was gone.

"Poor Neville," Ginny murmured.

They said their goodbyes to Lockhart (who harrumphed at Dean and continued his work) and left the ward considerably more solemn than when they'd arrived. All of them remained silent as they descended the stairs, then feigned good cheer when it came to bid Arthur farewell. The Weasleys, Winchesters, Castiel, and their Auror escorts piled back into the suspiciously large car and headed back to Grimmauld Place.

Only when they got there, the door was ajar. Moody pushed forward to discover Sirius unconscious in the hallway. Linda was nowhere to be found.

And Kevin Tran, Prophet of the Lord, was gone.