I hope you guys are ready for chapter three! I had an enlightening conversation with a reviewer, who thought not entirely polite with their suggestions made several good points. The future of the fic is a little wibbly, so if you have any ideas feel free to PM or review to let me know.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter

In a small room in a house on a small Muggle street, anyone looking in would have been thoroughly confused by what was going on.

Gabriel was pacing the room, talking animatedly to himself while the owl watched. He was questioning, thinking out loud, making up and discarding ideas as quickly as they came.

"But why now?" Gabriel asked, spinning back towards the desk where the letter lay. "Why contact me now, after years of no interference? Why do they want me at their school?"

He snatched up the letter again, rereading the heading. "Albus Pericval Wul...how many names does this guy have?" He scanned over it. "Does he have a title for each of them? Who decided it would be a good idea to let one guy have all this power?"

The owl hooted. Gabriel looked at it, having momentarily forgotten that it was there. "What?"

It nodded its head towards the letter. Stifling his curiosity over why the owls here were so smart, Gabriel looked back at the parchment. "What? I've read it."

The owl hooted in annoyance and Gabriel wasn't even going to think about how it was possibly conveying emotions. It hopped to the side of the desk and turned away.

Was it...sulking?

Gabriel decided to continue ignoring the animal.

He turned the letter over, rereading the pathetically short acceptance letter, and added another question to his list: why was the letter here? He'd never applied to any magic school, and if they came without applying, why was there only one? Gabriel eyed the signature, and wondered if he would be able to write back with all his questions.

It took half an hour to find a pencil that was decent to write with and another twenty minutes for Gabriel to find a clean sheet of paper. He wrote down all his questions in a row and, as an afterthought, addressed it at the top to said Deputy Headmistress. He rolled it up, and put the name on the outside.

The owl had already stuck its leg out, since apparently the whole point of it staying had been to take a reply. Gabriel haphazardly tied it on and the owl was on its way out the window. Gabriel watched it fly away, and thought of one more question.

Where, exactly, was this school?

The doorbell rang in the middle of breakfast again.

"Who could that be?" Muttered the uncle, letting his newspaper fall slightly. "Go get the door, boy."

Gabriel stayed exactly where he was.

"I said get the door."

"You didn't say please." Gabriel watched with interest as the uncle's face turned a furious red. Was it natural to do that, or was he the exception?

"I'll get it," said the aunt quickly, trying to avoid another shouting session. Her shoes tapped against the floor as she went down the hallway from the dining room to the door.

Her shriek startled all of them.

Gabriel stared at the door, wondering what could make his aunt scream like that, while the uncle and Dudley both tried to jump to their feet, upsetting the table badly. It would have fallen over, except it was falling towards Gabriel, who righted it just as the aunt walked stiffly in, followed by a woman in the strangest outfit. She was wearing robes, of all things, and a pointed hat of the same color.

"What are you doing here?" the uncle yelled, before the aunt hurriedly pulled him aside and whispered into his ear. They carried along like this for a minute or so, while the other three occupants of the room became engaged in a sort of staring war with each other.

Whatever the aunt had said, it was enough to take all three Dursleys out of the room while the woman talked with Gabriel.

"I must say," she said. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Potter."

"Okay?" Gabriel wasn't entirely sure what was going on here. "Let me guess...you got my letter?" If she wasn't the Headmistress he'd written back to Gabriel would just leave.

"Indeed. Is there somewhere we can sit?" Gabriel showed her to the living room, sitting on the sofa while McGonagall took the uncle's favorite chair.

"Now." She fixed him with a look. "I did get your letter, and I was surprised at the amount of questions you had. Did your relatives not inform you about Hogwarts?"

Gabriel had to quickly search through his mind before remembering that Hogwarts was the name of the school. "Um, no. Why would they have?" He sincerely hoped that the Dursley's weren't magical.

McGonagall looked angry about something. "Those..." she muttered something under her breath that Gabriel was delighted to hear from such a stern-looking woman. There was hope for everyone, it seemed.

She took a deep breath. "Mr. Potter. Do you know about the magical world? What happened to your parents?"

"Well, I knew the Dursleys lied about them dying in a car crash." Gabriel could really care less about what had happened to the Potters. "And your letter so kindly informed me about the existence of magic, so yes."

McGonagall seemed to draw herself straight in preparation for something. "I suppose I will have to explain the whole story."

And she did. Honestly, Gabriel might not have cared, but it was an interesting premise. Magical terrorism and genocide? Hm. Sounded like the beginning of a fantasy novel.

McGonagall took his silence as sadness. "Are you alright?"

"Yes." Gabriel shook himself out of his thoughts. "Just thinking. What about everything else I asked about?"

If there was any surprise in his quick dismissal of the story of how his parents died, McGonagall did not pressure him. She answered everything Gabriel could ask about, including Hogwarts. "Your name was put down by your parents shortly after you were born, Mr. Potter." Gabriel supposed he'd have to get used to being called that.

"What if I didn't want to go to Hogwarts?" The question seemed to shock McGonagall.

"Well-" she stopped. "Do you?"

Gabriel considered it. School. He'd been going for the past seven years and he still didn't like it. But magic school? The core he'd discovered inside himself was still untrained, and he couldn't do much with it. "I guess I do." It wasn't like he had many more options. His archangel power was still limited, even though it had grown since that night.

"Excellent." She seemed very relieved. "I have been asked by the Headmaster to take you shopping for supplies today, after I informed him that I would be visiting you." She stood up smoothly, far more agile than her appearance suggested her age to be. "If you would follow me?"

Gabriel had never liked following orders, but this interested him. The magic of this universe was something entirely new to him, separate from ordinary sell-your-soul witchcraft or hoodoo or anything that had existed on the last Earth Gabriel had lived on.

Not that Gabriel enjoyed it. Whatever McGonagall did to take them to the grimy pub, it was much worse than flying and Gabriel felt as if he were being squeezed through a tiny rubber tube. He stumbled as they landed with a crack and vowed never to use that mode of transportation again.

Diagon Alley.

Diagonally.

Gabriel wasn't sure whether the name was a pun on purpose or not. Either way, it was the most ridiculous name he'd ever heard.

McGonagall walked smartly up the cobbled road [cobblestones? Really?] which doubled back on itself so many times they had to have used magic to fit it all behind the bar.

"Come along, Mr. Potter." McGonagall tugged him towards the huge, white building at the end of the street. Gabriel bit back a retort and settled for pulling his hand away.

The bank was a welcome distraction. Gabriel had never had much to do with the creature races of the various realms he knew of, so goblins were fascinating. The path the cart traveled down underground was just as good, though still not nearly as fast as flying.

The vault wasn't quite as interesting. Gabriel swept a few piles of gold and whatever was stacked in front of it into the bag McGonagall handed over and that was that. Money was nothing to Gabriel; he'd most likely never use it aside from whatever he was forced to buy.

What followed was perhaps the most mind-numbingly boring hours of Gabriel's entire existence. And he'd had to listen to Zachariah's battle speeches.

Robes. No wonder everyone looked like they were wearing dresses, and really? They couldn't manage with just a simple cape. No, full length robes were the only acceptable wear for the wizarding world. Gabriel had half a mind to burn them, dress code be damned.

The blond boy in the robe shop had been constantly talking, assuming that Gabriel was interested enough to hear him. Gabriel pegged him for the son of a rich aristocrat, and decided that the boy would last about three seconds in an actual fight. The kid actually got mad at him for not listening. It might have been cute, if Gabriel were into that kind of thing and not bored out of his mind with the shopping trip as a whole.

The books were alright [Gabriel had been forbidden from buying a book on runes, saying it was too advanced for him, but he slipped it into his bag anyway], but cauldrons? Gabriel almost groaned aloud at the list. A cauldron. Really. Didn't they have spells for those things by now?

The apothecary smelled horrible, and Gabriel discreetly cleared the air around his nose while he was forced to get ingredients. Were these really necessary? Why couldn't they just have the ingredients ready for them at the school? Actually seeing what some of the ingredients were made Gabriel determined to never drink a potion if he could help it.

Buying a wand was the only saving grace of the entire expedition. The shop practically vibrated with energy, and the threshold gave Gabriel a shock as he stepped across. The man was waiting in a corner, presumably Mr. Ollivander.

"Ah," he said, softly and very creepily. "Mr. Potter. I wondered when I'd bee seeing you here." He flicked a hand at Gabriel, sending a tape measure towards him, which started measuring everything. Gabriel yanked it away from his face as soon as the man turned his back to disappear in between the shelves.

"I sold your mother and father their wands when they were your age," Ollivander's voice echoed through the shelves. "Your mother... willow, ten and three quarter inches. Very swishy, good for charms work. Your father..." His voice faded slightly as he got farther away. "Eleven inches, mahogany, excellent for transfiguration. I hear he favored the subject-" Ollivander slipped out of the rows next to McGonagall, who jumped slightly. "Did he not, professor?"

"He did," said McGonagall quietly. "If we could move on to getting one for Mr. Potter?"

"Of course," said Ollivander, moving to the counter and handing Gabriel a polished stick. "Cherry, ten and a half inches, core of unicorn horn...well, give it a wave."

An hour later, three explosions, several fires which had needed to be doused hastily, a frozen countertop, a broken lamp [or three], an accidental tornado which knocked down a shelf, and what may have classified as a crime against nature, Gabriel had a wand.

It had cost him seventeen Galleons [Gabriel was sure Ollivander had charged extra for damage] and was apparently made with the wood from an evergreen, and a feather from an unknown bird. Gabriel had accepted it warily, catching a series of engraved patterns along the handle that, when you looked from the proper angle, formed a series of nonsense runes. Or at least, that's what Ollivander told him, though the old wandmaker winked at Gabriel as he left the shop.

McGonagall, who looked rather harried and windblown by now, walked him to the Leaky Cauldron. Gabriel convinced her that he could look after himself well enough to get back to Privet Drive on his own, and as soon as the woman disappeared through the fireplace [green flames, that was new. Gabriel made a mental note to look it up] Gabriel went over to the counter and bought a room until September first. There was no way he was staying with the Dursleys any longer than he needed to.

The door had barely closed behind the man who had offered to bring up Gabriel's luggage before Gabriel had whipped out his wand. If this was his father messing around, or one of his siblings trying to be funny, then Gabriel hoped that they knew he was thoroughly pissed off. It was downright cruel, giving him a wand like this when he was trapped in his vessel.

The runes might have been made up by wizards' standards, but it was only too easy for Gabriel to read the Enochian carved on the handle. The word traveler had a different connotation in Enochian; it didn't mean someone who travels a lot, but instead someone who is far from home.

The feather was also no coincidence. There had to be someone behind this. Only God or one of Gabriel's brothers could have given him a wand with an angel's feather in it; and if he judged right, it was one of Samadiriel's feathers. Gabriel felt a tiny pang. He and the other three archangels had been given what amounted to custody over their younger siblings, and they usually took turns whenever a new one was created. Samadiriel, like Balthazar and Castiel, had been one of his charges.

Gabriel put the wand in the deepest pocket of his new trunk and decided to see if the broomsticks he'd noticed were any good.

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