Hey guys, it's been a while. Back to un-beta'd, so please forgive the myriad of mistake that likely slipped my notice.
Looks like fanfic ate my formatting on the previous chapters, so I'll probably be doing some messing around, maybe reuploading chapters.
He couldn't help but feel disappointed as his brother ran off to the Ravenclaw table and sat beside Jess. He probably shouldn't have been surprised; Sam had always been sharp and proud of his mind to boot. It felt strange that his brother was in a different house, though. He's always assumed they'd be sticking together. This separation made the idea of protecting him just that much harder. How could he keep an eye on him when much of their days would be spent apart?
He didn't eat much at the feast that evening, despite Gabriel's constant and enthusiastic talk of how delicious everything was – especially the wide range of desserts.
At least it wasn't Slytherin, he told himself on the way up to the dorms. He hadn't got a chance to say anything to Sam yet and he figured it might be better that way. He didn't want to end up saying something he'd regret later.
He was about to walk into the common room when his stunt from earlier finally caught up with him in the form of Professor MacLeod rounding the corner.
"Dean Winchester," he shouted. "Come with me."
Dean glanced at Gabriel nervously before breaking away from the crowd and walking to meet the Professor.
"Something wrong, Prof?" Dean questioned, masking his anxiety.
"Don't get cute," Crowley hissed, turning on his heel. "Come along."
Taking a long glance back at his housemates, he trudged along in silence with Crowley. He briefly entertained the thought of where he'd go if he got expelled.
Away from the promise of the warmth and comfort of the Common Room, the Slytherin Head lead him down into the cold, stony dungeon where the Slytherins made their home. Crowley ordered him into a room partway down the corridor.
The room was decorated in all manner of lush, expensive things. A cabinet of scotch – al the same kind if Dean saw correctly – sat against a wall near the desk and a fire roared in the fireplace. Old footage of some muggle war played on a projected screen, but Crowley quickly switched it off with a flick of his wand.
The entire room seemed so out of place among the cold dark of the dungeons. The only thing that was in any way fitting was the hellhound fetus floating in a jar of preservatives above the hearth. Now that was something he could've gone his whole life without seeing.
"Do you have any idea how much of an idiot you are?" the Professor hissed as soon as the door was shut. "Robert could lose his job over this."
"Robert?" Dean asked, perplexed.
Crowley straightened his back and cleared his throat in a rather awkward manner. "Professor Singer. It was his broom, correct?"
"Uh, yeah."
"Exactly. Luckily, the only muggle who saw it and said anything was already stoned out of his mind so everyone assumed he was crazy. The rest were most distracted by a man who vanished."
Dean shivered at the mention of his assailant. Who had it been?
Before Crowley could continue, Professor Singer burst into the room.
"Dean, you alright?" he asked, barely acknowledging Crowley, a fact that seemed to rather offend the Slytherin Head.
Dean nodded. "Yeah, but there was this guy—"
"I saw," his Head of House cut in. "Damn lucky I had that broom in the car. That guy's bad news."
"Can we all focus on the matter at hand?" Crowley sighed, bringing out one of his many bottles of scotch. "I'm well aware expulsion is out of the question but this moronic incident needs punishment."
"I'll handle it," Singer growled. "The hell'd you him all the way down here for, anyway?"
Crowley straightened up, taking a sip of his scotch. "To have a talk with him about tisk-taking. It was foolish of him to fly onto the train like that."
Dean and his Head of House shared a look.
"Right," Bobby said after a moment. "Come on, then."
Dean followed behind the Professor, leaving a sullen Crowley behind. By the time they were back in the Gryffindor tower, Dean's legs were killing him. He found he comfiest chair possible in Professor Singer's office before collapsing onto it.
"What did he say to you?" Bobby asked, also taking a seat.
"Huh?" Dean responded sleepily. "Oh, right. Yellow eyes."
He thought back to the events of that morning, still a bit confused by it all.
"Nothing really," he finally answered after a few quiet moments. "But he knew my name."
The Professor took that in calmly, like he'd already known as much.
"Who was he, anyway? It sounded like you knew something about him."
Bobby shook his head. "We don't know much, just that he's up to no good. Dark wizard, he is. Servant of the worst there's ever been."
Dean nodded slowly. "You mean that one everyone talks about all the time? The Minister's brother?"
"That's the one," the Professor confirmed. "He's been dead for years but that don't mean nothin' to the crazies who worshipped him."
Dean fell silent with a sigh. Suddenly having an Auror for a dad wasn't quite so cool.
After a long moment, the Head of Gryffindor House finally broke the silence. "In any case, Henrickson's going to want to see you."
Dean's heart jumped. "T-the Quidditch captain?!" he responded excitedly. "But I don't have a broom…"
"We'll see what we can do about that old thing of mine. It's seen worse damage."
The grin that broke out over the young wizard's face made Bobby laugh; the boy looked like he had already forgotten his frightening experience of that morning.
"Geez, if I'd known a stunt like that could get you on the Quidditch team, I would've done it before I even got my wand!"
Gabriel has been complaining nearly the whole morning about Dean's sudden rise to Quidditch fame. Henrickson didn't quite know where to put him; there were positions in Chaser and Beater open, plus he needed a new Seeker. Dean didn't like the idea of chasing down a tiny ball after sitting around watching for ages. He wanted in on the action from the get-go.
"What's the problem?" Dean questioned. "You're on the team already."
"But I had to try out, man," now it was edging on whining. "Do you know how stressful that was?"
Dean just rolled his eyes and stuffed another pastry in his mouth.
Across the Great Hall, he watched a group of Ravenclaws settling in around their table. He smiled when he spotted Sam among them, Jess right up alongside him. He'd never guessed his little brother would be such a lady's man.
He ditched Gabe and the food (Gabriel and breakfast were a match made in heaven after all) and half –jogged over to the Ravenclaw table.
"Hey kiddo~" he beamed, sliding in beside his brother and looping an arm around his shoulders. "How's the family brainiac doing? Got a girlfriend already, I see."
Sam flushed an impossible shade of red and Jess looked away shyly. Dean received a swift elbow to the ribs but he laughed it off.
"Good morning to you too," Sam grumbled, visibly mortified.
Dean chuckled. "How's first day treating you?"
Sam finally cracked a smile. "It's great."
"How many times have you got lost so far? On my first day I walked in on Pr—"
"Back to your own table, Winchester," Crowley barked as he walked past. "We've been over this a hundred times already."
The Slytherin Head didn't really sound like he cared at this point. It had been like pulling teeth trying to keep Gabriel and Dean from dragging Cas away to sit with the Gryffindors the previous year.
"Guess I'll catch you later, Sammy," Dean said, getting to his feet.
"It's Sam," his little brother insisted, but Dean wasn't listening.
Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.