Title: Story

Author: Soulhag

"Misters Winchester, I presume?" a reedy voice came from behind them.

Dean spun on his heel in alarm to face an elderly woman in a witch's hat. It looked like one of those damn Halloween costumes, all pointy and broad brimmed. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing and quirked the side of his mouth at her.

That shit drove ladies crazy.

The woman gazed at him imperiously, unimpressed, and he cursed inwardly.

Fuckin' broad must not be a lady.

"Yes, Sam and Dean," Sam said from behind him, stepping around his brother to give the woman a grim smile. "You must be Professor McGonagall?"

"Albus told me there would be muggles attending my class for the next few weeks, but I must confess I was not expecting anyone quite so…" McGonagall trailed off as she tilted her head back to look Sam in the face, and raised a hand to her hat as it began to slide off from the extreme angle.

"Moose-like?" Dean supplied. There were titters from the children behind him. "Gargantuan?" More giggles. "Sasquatchian?" Outright laughs on that one. Fuck yes, Dean was SO good at being a sixth grader. "Freakishly tall behe-"

"That will be enough," she snapped, and the laughter died down. "I was not expecting anyone quite so OLD. This is a school for children."

"Yeah, well, Sammy here is freakin' awesome at grade school." Dean grinned and jabbed a thumb at his brother.

"And Dean is awesome at acting like a twelve year old," Sam retorted bitchily. He then quickly added, "And it's Sam. Not Sammy."

"Gentlemen, I have a class to teach. Please have a seat," Professor McGonagall sighed, gesturing toward the rows of desks.

They turned to look at the child-sized desks, and Sam swallowed noisily. Approaching them slowly, Dean stuck a foot between the seat and desk and promptly got his boot stuck. He bent over to try to wrestle it free.

Sam squatted down and began to try to squeeze his hips into the narrow space, wiggling and pushing until the desk began to tilt dangerously. Then, before Dean could even warn him, his younger brother and the entire chair and desk crashed backwards onto the stone floor with a loud bang.

Dean – and the rest of the classroom, filled with his mental and emotional equals – burst into laughter. Sam glared up at the hand Dean offered him, still chuckling through a wide smile.

"Aw Sammy, I didn't know you were gonna fight me to be class clown," he said, hauling his brother to his feet.

Sam shuddered at the word "clown" and (mustering what Dean could only assume was his Primo A-1 Classic Bitchface) snapped, "You can have it, you damn jerk."

"Mister Winchester!" Professor McGonagall's shrill voice made Sam leap. Judging from the terror on his face, Dean wondered if his brother's balls had leapt up inside him. "Your language!"

"I…"

"That is quite enough," the woman cut him off, and pulled out her wand.

"SAM!" Dean roared, diving into Sam and knocking them both to the floor.

"Engorgio," McGonagall announced, then sighed heavily. "Misters Winchester. If you would be so kind as to take your seats and cease the dramatics?"

Dean peered up from where his head was buried in Sam's shoulder. He felt his brother shiver as his nose brushed the bare skin of his throat. Clearing his throat, he looked up at the witches and wizards staring down at them in disbelief. A cursory glance at the desks revealed they were now large enough to seat even Gigantor.

"Son of a bitch," he hissed under his breath. "Friggin' witches."

"Just get off me, you weigh a ton," Sam growled and shoved at him.

"Whatever, you love it," Dean replied with a smirk, getting to his feet.

"I've been looking forward to this transfiguration class for three days now, just sit down," Sam muttered as he smoothly leapt up and sat down in the desk.

Sam looked down where the red haired boy was seated next to him. The look of mystification and bemusement on the boy's face was enough to make Sam smile weakly at him and offer a half wave.

"Don't annoy McGonagall, mate," the boy whispered. "She's nice enough now, but she's a right harpy when she's mad."

"Thanks for the tip," Sam murmured.

"Is that your brother?" the ginger boy asked, gesturing toward Dean. Sam followed his glance to where his older brother was stuffing an enormous handful of Bernie Bott's Every Flavor Beans into his mouth.

"If I said no, would you believe me?" Sam asked weakly.

The boy shook his head. "I've got a load of brothers, I know 'em when I see 'em. I'm Ron, by the way."

The frizzy haired girl sitting on the other side of Sam handed Ron a bowl, and gesture for him to pass it to Sam. Sam accepted the wooden bowl carefully, glancing at McGonagall, who seemed too occupied in calling roll to notice them.

"For Dean," the girl whispered, pointing. Sam turned to see Dean slow down the chewing of his massive mouthful of candy, go pale, then a bright shade of red, and then a sort of…

"Mauve," she whispered. "It's the color their faces go after red and before-"

"Puce," Sam finished for her, watching Dean's face.

The girl met his eyes, and he saw her face go slightly slack with awe and wonder.

"I've been reading up on wizarding culture," Sam confessed. The small girl's eyes (which were remarkably ferret-like, Sam had to admit… must have been Dean's influence rubbing off on him) went wide and glossy.

"I'm Hermione," she murmured dreamily. "You're Sam Winchester. You and your brother, Dean, have permission to be here in order to hunt a demon who may have possessed a student here."

Dean made a coughing, gagging noise behind him, and grabbed the bowl from Sam before retching loudly.