Chapter 11

Dean left the Great Hall with Minerva right after lunch. She led him down into the dungeons below one of the Viaduct Towers to Severus' classroom. While they descended the spiral stairs to the dungeons, Minerva asked Dean what he thought of the school so far.

"You mean besides it being impossible to find where you're going?" he said with a goofy smile, his voice echoing downward into the darkness.

She chortled a bit. "Yes, well it does take some getting used to."

"Well, to be honest, I never really got the chance to get used to a school. I mean, Sam went to college for a while before we started hunting together, but this is kind of a new experience for me."

"What do you mean?" Minerva inquired.

"Well, Sam and I, we . . . we never really stayed in one place very long growing up. Our Dad would put us into schools whenever we'd breeze into a town where there was a job. And by job, I mean some kinda monster was killing people and he would hunt it down. He'd dump us at the nearest school, we'd live in the cheapest motel, we'd eat junk food and watch TV, that was our lives."

"How dreadful!" Minerva said, hardly believing her ears.

"So as far as schools go, this one's pretty nice." Dean said being completely honest.

"Thank you for saying so, Dean.

"If Bobby could see us now." he laughed, shaking his head.

"Bobby?" she asked.

Dean tried to think of the best way to describe Bobby to her. "Bobby was a friend. More of a surrogate father, really. He was a hunter, like us. After our dad passed, Bobby was always there. I can't tell you how many times he saved our bacon over the years. He was an old, surly, beer drinking, swearin' son of a gun. Used to call us 'idgits' when we'd screw things up."

"Gracious!" Minerva exclaimed.

"Yeah, he was a great guy."

They continued to descend the stairs, their footsteps softly echoing above and below.

"What about your mother?" Minerva asked coming to the landing at the bottom of the stairs.

Dean stopped short right behind her.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Dean. I didn't mean to be –" Minerva began.

"No. It's alright." Dean said quickly. "You didn't know." Dean sighed and rubbed the stubble growing on his chin. He ran his fingers through his hair quickly and leaned against the cold dungeon wall, crossing his arms. "She, uh . . ." he cleared his throat. "She died when I was just a kid. Sammy was only 6 months old."

Minerva clutched her chest sympathetically. "Oh, Dean. What happened . . . if you don't mind my asking?"

Dean looked down and watched how the torch light played off the stone of the hallway. It reminded him of that night. How the fire engulfed his childhood home. "This yellow-eyed demon named Azazel killed our father. Our mother made a deal with the demon to bring him back to life . . . this was years before we were born. The night the demon came to collect on their deal, she tried to stop him. He uh . . . pinned her to the ceiling, slashed her open . . . then . . ." Dean swallowed hard. "Made her burst into flames . . . the house burned down. She was still alive when . . ." he paused and redirected. "Our dad scooped both of us up . . . saved us from the fire. Then he vowed to hunt down the demon who killed our mom. It took over his whole life . . . then it cost him his life."

Minerva placed a gentle hand on his arm. "What a horrible tragedy to endure at such a young age. I am so very sorry, Dean."

Before Dean could reply, a figure emerged from the dark corridor and stepped into the torchlight. "And so am I." came the voice of Severus Snape.

Sam approached the castle to find Dumbledore standing out front enjoying the fresh countryside air.

"Good afternoon, Sam." He greeted him.

"And a very good afternoon to you, Dumbledore." replied Sam. "Just the man I wanted to see.

"Is that so?" he said with a chuckle.

"I had a great time with Hagrid. His first class went extremely well. He'll make an excellent Professor."

"I'm glad to hear it, Sam. But something tells me that you have something else on your mind other than how well Hagrid's class went." said Dumbledore.

Sam froze. How does he always know? he thought. "And you'd be right." he said. "I . . . sort of . . . interfered."

Dumbledore looked at him over his half moon specs. "You interfered? In what way?"

"There was a point in this class where one of the students was supposed to get hurt." Sam said.

Dumbledore said nothing, but patiently waited for him to finish.

"Malfoy was supposed to maimed by one of the hippogriffs. He was going to insult one of them called Buckbeak. Even after Hagrid specifically said not to at the beginning of the lesson. Malfoy was too busy making fun of Harry to pay attention, so I sort of . . . stopped it from happening."

Dumbledore listened but gave no outward appearance as to what he was thinking, so he continued.

"He would have had grave injuries, which Madam Pomfrey would be able to heal, but -"

"It would have set a serious chain of events into motion." finished Dumbledore.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have interfered. I just couldn't stand by and watch as it happened."

"It is a testament to the kind of person you are, Sam. Innocents are who you were born to protect. I understand that you felt the need to stop it at the time. But now you have changed the course of the future. You know more than I of what is to come. It is most important that you understand the ripple effect and how it can create waves. Now that you have acted, what will now no longer happen? What will happen in its place?"

"It would have gone to the Ministry. There would have been an inquiry and Buckbeak would have been sentenced to death. It would have nearly destroyed Hagrid in the process."

"But there is more, isn't there?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Yes." Sam said plainly.

"You see now how the smallest change, no matter how innocent or noble the intentions, can manipulate everything else down the line?"

"Yes. I see now what you meant."

"Foreknowledge is dangerous, and you cannot save what is not meant to be saved." he said again.

Even now his blue eyes twinkled. Sam felt awful and slightly sick to his stomach knowing he had messed up the timeline, and felt even worse that Dumbledore was so calm and understanding about it. The fact that he was, made it seem so much worse. It was almost as if his lack of seething lecture was the punishment. He realized then that that was the way Dumbledore worked. He listened to you. You pour your heart and soul into a confession and he simply listens. And when you expect reprimand, instead you got agreeance. In essence, he let you beat yourself up over whatever it is that you did wrong.

"I am sorry, Dumbledore." Sam said, now feeling the full weight of what he had done.

"It cannot be helped now, dear Sam." said Dumbledore. "Let us hope that he ripple is small enough not to tip the boat downstream, eh?"

Sam nodded and they both turned and entered the castle together.

Severus took a few careful steps toward Dean and Minerva. It was clear that Severus was upset, even by the torchlight and the gloom of the dungeon. His eyes were red and slightly puffy. Minerva was taken by surprise at this discovery. She had never seen Severus in such a state. Had he been crying?

"Severus?" she asked in concern.

"Forgive me, Dean." Severus said, ignoring her. "I have sorely misjudged you."

Dean and Minerva both stood shocked. This was the last thing Dean would have ever expected from him.

"There are very few of us in this world who have experienced heartache and loss by such evil hands." Severus continued.

Minerva now realized what this was about and kept her silence.

The Potions Master continued. "I saw your memories. I saw the violence and bloodshed, but I did not understand. You have lost so much, but you keep fighting. I understand now. You do it so that others won't have to endure the same loss."

Dean nodded. "That's what we try to do, anyway."

"Forgive me, Dean. I pried into your memories looking for a reason to distrust you. I looked past your tragedy even though I saw it with my own eyes and saw only what I wanted to. I too have experienced loss at the hands of evil, and I was wrong to think I was alone in my grief."

"Hey, man." Dean casually sniffed and offered a hand. "No hard feelings."

Severus slowly stepped forward and shook his hand. "I trust this conversation shall be kept confidential?"

"You got it." Dean responded.

Minerva quickly used the opportunity to excuse herself.

"I see you both have things well in hand. I'll leave you to it." she said, and hurriedly began to climb the stairs and out of sight.

"So!" Dean began. "Potions!" he clapped and rubbed his hands together.

Severus gestured down the hallway. "Right this way."

Over the next several days, Sam and Dean bounced around from classroom to classroom as Teacher's Aids. They continued to have private lessons in many different subjects either in between classes or at night. Sam found he had a knack for Arithmancy and Charms. Dean grew more proficient in Defense Against the Dark Arts and, with Severus' help, Potions.

On the weekend Dean and Sam were in the greenhouse with Professor Sprout learning about Puffapods and helping with a new batch of Mandrakes. Sam and Neville Longbottom, who seemed to be in the greenhouse a lot, formed a bit of a kinship.

Sam had Malfoy serve his detention by organizing, alphabetizing and restacking all of the books in his and Dean's rooms.

Dean found out from a group of Hufflepuffs how to access the kitchen and met the House Elves who worked there. After his initial shock wore off, he taught them how to make the perfect bacon cheeseburger, and made a few culinary requests of his own to be added to the menu. Namely, pie.

On Sunday, they had an amazing lesson with Remus in which they began to learn the highly difficult Patronus Charm.

"There's gotta be an easier way." Dean said exhausted. Both of the brothers managed a faint ghostly wisp, but not much else.

"You both have the capacity, it is just that it is very advanced magic." said Remus. "With a bit more practice you'll get there."

…

A Moment of Silence Please for Alan Rickman.

Rest In Peace.

….