Glad you all liked the last chapter! I'm working out the bits and pieces of the plot as I go, but I really hope we'll be able to move onto some bigger stuff in this chapter. I've certainly been building up to it for long enough.

ANYWAY. Dealing with Voldemort won't be easy, because first they've got to find him. And then figure out who sold their soul. Not to mention that Nott's still running around doing his thing - or trying to - and Dumbledore is up to Something.

I've been meaning to include Patrick for a long time, but it turned out happening a little differently than I thought it would. That's what happens when you write a scene 78346 chapters before it actually happens.

But first, MORE OF THE KIDS. I've been kinda ignoring them because I let some nasty comments get to me but these guys are a gold mine of writing material, I tell you. My only regret about this story is that they're not the focus of it [though once I finish this I'll probably immediately go to fix that...]

OH AND GUESS WHAT I GOT TICKETS TO CHICAGOCON AND I'M GOING TO FUCKING MEET RICHARD SPEIGHT AND GET HIS AUTOGRAPH

I bet you guys can't guess who my favorite character on Supernatural is.

And just so you know, I wrote like half of this chapter in between trying to catch up on Hawkeye issues, and it's late, so I dunno if some of this stuff might come out a little weird. Anyway, if I start writing Kate Bishop instead of Hermione, I'll probably just get off the computer and go to sleep.

Ha. No.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

Gabriel made the most of what was left of the winter holiday.

It was really the only time he got to spend at home; even if the day-to-day routine had developed mostly without him and he had to squeeze himself into whatever niche it afforded, he did enjoy it.

Jormungand had found his way to the sofa and pressed himself into Gabriel's side, watching the game his brothers were playing. One thing Gabriel had noticed was that Jormungand hated being alone; he'd always find a way to trail after someone, loosely holding hands or just following them around the house in whatever games they thought up.

"Ha, checkmate!" Slepnir crowed.

"That's chess!"

The other two had a similar tendency; normally all three of them were in each others' company for most of the day, doing whatever they could think to do to entertain themselves.

"Well, I'm still about to win."

"No you aren't. You're half the board away from winning."

"Not with that piece, this piece."

Gabriel let his arm rest over Jormungand's shoulders, lazily watching the progression of the game. Hel had gone off to make sure Helheim hadn't fallen into complete disarray in her absence, and the twins were out somewhere where there weren't several energetic boys to watch out for. He was, surprisingly, enjoying being the only 'adult' in the house.

Especially since he didn't seem to need to do much. They'd grown up quick - only normal growth by a human standard, but fast for kids with mostly godly ancestry.

"You can't win like that unless you roll exactly the right number."

"I will."

"No you won't!" Fenris was giggling so much it was impossible to see the conversation as an argument.

"He can win in two turns," Jormungand said softly, "No matter what he rolls."

Slepnir immediately frowned at the board, trying to figure out what Jormungand saw that he didn't.

"Jor," Fenris whined. "Don't help him."

Jormungand muffled a smile in Gabriel's shirt, and Gabriel grinned down at him. "C'mon, Fen, I bet you can find a way."

Slepnir glanced up. "You should play." It was directed at Gabriel.

"Nah, I think I'm taken at the moment." Gabriel ruffled Jormungand's curls. "'Sides, I wouldn't want to interrupt your game."

"Yeah, but you're going soon."

It was like Slepnir had dumped a bucket of cold water over the collective good mood. Jormungand's hand, which was curled into Gabriel's, tightened on his. Fenris had turned and was looking up at Gabriel like he was half-hoping the answer wasn't what he thought it was.

"Yeah," said Gabriel reluctantly. Winter break ended in a few days, and he'd have to return to the school to keep up appearances. However much he disliked having to. "Not right now." It was a feeble sort of dodge around the topic.

"Two more years," Jormungand said, looking up at him. "Then you're staying for good, right?"

"'Course I am," Gabriel reassured him.

"What's happening at Hogwarts?" Fenris asked out of the blue. "Balthazar looks nervous sometimes. When he thinks we're not paying attention. Or if he doesn't realize we're there."

Of course he did. Balthazar was still horrible at subtlety; then again, he'd barely been on Earth for as long as Castiel. "It's to do with Voldemort," Gabriel said. "You know about him, right?"

All three of them nodded. "He's the stupid one with no nose," Slepnir said.

Gabriel may have put his own twist on things when he told them about Voldemort. "Well," Gabriel said, stretching out slightly, "He's got some sort of plan in motion that I've got to figure out, which probably involves demons."

Jormungand wrinkled his nose. "Ew."

"Yeah, ew is right." Gabriel had also, in the past, told them how he saw demons as opposed to how they appeared to humans. "Anyway, he's only human. It's just a little problem."

"Demons aren't human," Fenris pointed out.

"Yeah, but I'm cooler than them," Gabriel said, grinning, and managed to startle a laugh out of Fenris. "And way too much for them to take on."

"You're not cool at all," Jormungand said in a falsely innocent voice that said he was taking the phrasing the wrong way on purpose. "You're like a heater."

Gabriel didn't try and suppress the sputter of laughter that rose out of his chest. It was true he was probably warmer than the average human. Grace was light, and light produced heat. It was simple physics, even if he did exist outside most [read: all] of those rules, and those that he happened to obey were pure coincidence.

Fenris hopped onto the sofa, leaning against Gabriel's other side and settling into place. "You are," he said agreeably. Slepnir sat down too [on Jormungand's side; Fenris had personal space issues], the game forgotten in the sudden lure of what was turning into a cuddle pile.

"This house does have heating," Gabriel teased them.

Jormungand shrugged, his shoulder briefly digging into Gabriel's ribs. "I like you better."

Gabriel reflected that night, tangled up with the three of them and the blankets, that his kids were very sweet to him even though he barely saw them anymore. He was essentially a stranger, dropping by for a few weeks or months at a time.

And they still acted like this around him, like he'd never left. Granted, he was their dad, but...

Well, he could name more than a few people [including himself] who wouldn't react nearly as nicely to the return of an often-absent parent.

Jormungand rolled over, sighing sleepily, his hand flopping over and grasping at Gabriel's shirt. Gabriel resisted the temptation to run his hand through Jormungand's curls; the latter was a really light sleeper.

Honestly, if they had taken it badly - him being gone all the time - Gabriel didn't know what he'd have done. Probably figured something out with Sigyn anyway. None of them were under seven hundred, but none of them had the experience of living on their own.

And there was no way he'd risk anything happening to them again.

Gabriel sighed [quietly]. Somehow, his thoughts always ended up negative. He needed to stop thinking about this stuff at night.

Gabriel closed his eyes, and tried to pretend for a moment that there was nothing he needed to worry about.

A few days after term started again, Hermione managed to corner Gabriel.

Michael was with her, too. Great.

"You ran into more demons?" Was the first thing ne said.

Gabriel made a face. "They were after the first one, they're dead, no biggie. What's this about?"

"Mostly this." Hermione displayed the angel blade he'd given her. "You weren't a whole lot of help with this."

Michael's eyes widened, and then narrowed. "That's not yours. Where'd you get it?"

"Off one of the demons. Are you asking for lessons, or what?" Gabriel switched his focus to Hermione.

"Well, if that's what it would take-"

"Hold on." Michael put nir hand in between the two of them. "What was a demon doing with an angel's blade?"

Hermione's gaze shot to the silver weapon in her hands. "A what?"

"There's been plenty of 'em rattling around since you went out of the loop," Gabriel answered. Please don't drag this out. "Demons didn't hesitate to steal as many as they could. You don't really need lessons, all you've gotta do is make sure you get close enough to stab them."

Michael's gaze lingered on the sword, and then moved to Gabriel. Gabriel could practically see the questions ne wanted to ask.

"If this is an angel's blade, shouldn't I return it?" Hermione was holding the blade awkwardly, as if she didn't trust herself with it.

"The only way a demon gets its hands on something like that is if the angel isn't around to use it anymore," Gabriel said shortly. "You're fine."

"...Oh." Hermione held the blade even more awkwardly. "I told Michael what you told me, by the way. About those demons." It was a blindingly obvious attempt to get the conversation to easier-to-steer waters, but Gabriel was grateful for it.

"If Crowley's planning something, then we should be on the lookout." Michael said, relief winding through nir Grace as well. Huh. It was a sore subject for both of them, apparently.

"We already have been," Gabriel reminded him. "But in case you don't remember, there's a war going on here."

"I'm aware. Death eaters hardly take up all our attention. There hasn't been an attack in nearly a month."

"And that doesn't strike you as a little weird?"

Michael paused. Gabriel kept going. "Something's up," he said. "With Voldemort especially. And demons are probably involved in that, too. So we're looking at one, big, gigantic problem instead of two only slightly smaller ones."

"We knew demons were involved with Voldemort already," Michael reminded him.

"We didn't know they were looking for immortality."

Michael's gaze sharpened. "How do you-"

"I dropped in on an old friend," Gabriel said vaguely. "He's been having some demon problems."

Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You know someone who knows the secret to immortality?"

"Eh, sort of. The point is, demons don't need it for themselves, so they've got to be getting it for someone else." Gabriel said. "Point is, there have been signs all year that something bigger's coming."

"And you think you know what it is?"

"Honestly?" Gabriel said. "I don't have a fucking clue."

And then, there was still the problem with Nott.

Gabriel could have trailed him, if he'd felt like expending the energy, but instead he went with keeping an unusually close eye on things in the school.

Anything remotely outside of the norm, and he knew. It was a little irritating keeping his awareness spread so far, but since it was usually concentrating on whichever area the Slytherins happened to be in, he only had to deal with a few simultaneous surroundings.

It was hardly the most difficult thing he'd ever done. Gabriel just had to make sure he didn't loose track of one or the other while concentrating a little too hard on eavesdropping.

But holy crap, were the Slytherins boring. The sixth-years couldn't seem to find anything better to talk about than boring, human things. There was no mention of Death Eaters, or Voldemort, or even the 'Dark Lord' as his followers seemed to enjoy calling him.

He should have known they'd avoid the topic. Everyone would expect them to be talking about that - and, unfortunately, they weren't stupid enough to talk about whatever they were planning in the open. Not even in their dorm rooms. It was like they thought they were being listened too everywhere.

Well, they were, but since they didn't know that it was really just excessive paranoia.

Nott was close-lipped even about mundane topics. Gabriel gave him a passing, subtle glance when they passed in hallways or in the Hall; he didn't look much different. Maybe a little pale for a human, but Gabriel hardly thought that was an indication of evil, villainous plotting. If anything, it was a stereotype.

Occasionally, Nott would vanish off his radar.

This never ceased to irritate Gabriel. The idea that there was anywhere in the castle he couldn't reach was just plan infuriating. He was an archangel, and this stupid, magic castle was managing to hide something from him. It shouldn't be possible - except it apparently was.

The first time it happened, he didn't notice until Nott reappeared a few hours later. Gabriel cursed a few times internally and followed Nott mentally, pretending he was still listening to the Transfiguration lesson.

Nothing seemed different. Nott was doing normal human student stuff. He always seemed to [annoyingly] notice when Gabriel tried to get a look at his thoughts, and Gabriel was a little too far away to be able to do it completely unnoticed, so that was out. But there were only so many places he could have been; and if he went back, Gabriel would know.

The second time, Gabriel noticed when Nott vanished off his radar. He didn't bother pretending to pay attention to Snape - the man wouldn't dare call him out on it, anyway - and sent his awareness trailing after where he'd last noticed Nott.

Through the school, up to the seventh floor, down a hallway with a really ridiculous tapestry-

Oh, you've got to be kidding me.

Since when was the Room of Requirement outside of angelic perception?

Gabriel frowned to himself. Then again, it didn't show up on the Marauder's Map either; there was something very odd about that room.

He resolved to find out what.

Later.

The third time, Gabriel was actually in a position to follow.

He landed silently as the door faded back into blank stone. Gabriel scrutinized the wall for a few moments, trying to make out the magic that hid the entrance, but that had vanished as completely as the door. Utterly improbably vanished, but Gabriel was hardly one to question probability - he just complained internally when it made his life difficult.

He did, of course, remember the rules that governed the room. Unless he knew exactly what Nott was doing in there...

"I can't get in," Gabriel muttered, frustrated. It was like Murphy's law; whatever could go wrong for him, did, at the worst possible times. "Come on. I'm trying to do something good for once."

He considered trying to fly straight into the room, but he doubted it would work; if the magic in it was powerful enough to keep him from peeking in, it was probably powerful enough to keep his actual self out. Gabriel didn't want to chance where he might end up if he did try.

"Fuck."

Next time he got close enough to Nott, he was so going to read that kid's mind like it was the last book on Earth, privacy be damned.

Except things were never as simple as they could be.

Gabriel visited Muriel on one of the weekends in February; January had passed in no time at all before he'd remembered that, upon returning, Muriel had managed to claim a seat at the head table.

Two angels were always better than one.

She was in McGonagall's office, having secured a position as a teacher's assistant, apparently. McGonagall was in there as well, and they were swapping conversation over a tin of cookies and a stack of papers that were probably essays or something like that.

Gabriel tapped on the half-open door to get their attention. Both women, or the woman and temporarily woman-shaped being, turned to look at him, the conversation faltering.

McGonagall arched her eyebrow. "Yes? What is it?"

"Mind if I borrow Muriel for a second?"

McGonagall's eyes darted to Muriel, narrowing slightly. "Do you know him?" Do you know what he is, is what she probably meant.

Muriel gave her a faint smile, standing up. "Of course. Give me a moment, please. I'm sure it's important." She crossed the room, and Gabriel stepped back so that they were both standing in the hallway.

Muriel closed the door with her hand. "What is it? I thought you said you didn't want them to know we knew each other."

"I said you'd probably get in easier if they didn't know we're related. You're in, ergo, I don't care." Gabriel replied. "You know a kid named Nott?"

"In Slytherin? Sixth year, right? What about him?" Muriel's brow creased slightly.

"He's working for Voldemort."

"A teenager?"

Gabriel shrugged. "He's sixteen. Old enough to know what he's doing. Anyway, he's up to something, but stuff keeps getting in the way when I try to keep track of him. Next time he shows up in your class, mind seeing what you can find?"

"Mind reading is generally looked down on as an invasion of privacy, you know." Muriel looked faintly disapproving. She'd probably gotten that look from McGonagall.

"Then don't, but unless you can think of another way..." Gabriel spread his hands. "I'm just asking, not ordering. Technically you don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

The disapproval changed in a blink to surprise. "Of course I'd like to help," Muriel said after a moment. "I've heard of Voldemort. I hardly want someone running around working for him. What's he doing?"

"As far as I can tell, it's an attempted assassination. As for the how..." Gabriel trailed off for dramatic purposes. "That's where your help comes in."

"How did you find out what he was trying to do if you don't know how he's attempting to do it?"

"That is a really long story we really shouldn't go over in the hallway." Gabriel jerked his head at the closed door. "Besides, from the looks of it you've got papers to grade."

"Ha, ha." Muriel replied sarcastically. Gabriel smirked. It seemed the time she'd spent on Earth hadn't completely gone to waste. "I'll let you know if I find anything, then."

"All I'm asking for. Thanks, Muriel."

"His mind," Muriel said later, "is unusually well guarded."

"So you gave up on alternative methods, huh?"

Muriel makes a face at him that doesn't do anything to deter Gabriel's teasing. Besides, she's basically the only other one of his siblings who gets easy banter like this; Balthazar, for all his quick adaption, has still only been on Earth for the last five years or so. "I was just mentioning that. My point is, I can't see much of his thoughts without him noticing. And if I start to hover, Minerva notices."

"Who?"

"Professor McGonagall."

"Ah." Gabriel nodded. "Yeah, that would probably weird her out. So you got nothing, too." Fantastic.

"What I don't understand is how a sixteen-year-old managed to get such a steady grasp of Occlumency," Muriel mused aloud. "It's a tricky art. I never tried it."

"Occlu-what?"

"Mental protection. Wizards can read each others' minds as well, if they know how," Muriel told him.

"You don't need magic to do that."

"Whatever," Muriel said in an exaggerated affected tone. "Didn't you wonder how he learned it, though?"

"Honestly, not my biggest issue at the moment."

Muriel hummed thoughtfully. "You never told me who he's attempting to assassinate, by the way."

"Dumbledore."

"What?" Muriel physically reacted, leaning back from Gabriel as if the shock physically repelled her. "And you think it's going to work?"

"Well..." Gabriel explained about Adam, and how it had apparently turned out in whatever version of this universe existed without Gabriel. Muriel listened intently, her expression growing pensive.

"Huh," was all she said when he finished. "This would be a lot easier if someone could just find Voldemort and kill him."

"There's still Horcruxes to think about," Gabriel said.

"Horcruxes?" Muriel obviously knew what he meant. "Voldemort has horcruxes? Plural?" She sounded so shocked that Gabriel wondered for a split second if she was exaggerating again.

"Yes?"

"How many?" Muriel questioned.

"What's the deal with him having more than one?"

"Horcruxes are incredibly Dark magic," Muriel said. "They - well, they don't break the soul - they can't - but they do something unspeakable to it. I never dared to research it further while I was here. For him to have made more than one is-" She looked almost sick. "Revolting, to be honest, and more than a little horrifying. How many?"

"Three," Gabriel said. "Maybe four. I'm not sure whether a scrap of him possessing a guy counts."

"It doesn't."

"Three, then."

Muriel sighed and muttered in Enochian under her breath. "If he went that far, it's possible he made more."

"Aw, shit, I hope not."

"There's still the possibility. I'm not saying that he did - we can't know for sure." Muriel looked thoughtful, fingers picking at a frayed thread in the seam of her pants. "How long as Voldemort been around?"

"No idea. He was a thing when the last generation was at school here, so probably a while." Gabriel hazarded a guess. "Forty years, maybe?"

"And this is still the only magic school in Britain?"

"...Yes?"

"Then wouldn't he have gone here?"

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. "I guess. Where's this line of reasoning going?"

"Wouldn't Dumbledore have been at the school at the time? He's certainly old enough. He would have known him as a student - perhaps well enough to know whether he made more."

Gabriel stared. "Muriel," he said, "You're a genius."

Dumbledore, disappointingly, didn't react beyond looking up from whatever was on his desk when Gabriel and Muriel landed.

"Ah," he said, looking almost cheerful. "Muriel. I might assume that I was correct in guessing that you were an angel, except assumptions always seem to go wrong."

"You're correct," Muriel said. She looked flummoxed. "How did you guess?"

"Muriel. The suffix is, I believe, common in angelic names." Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "It's possible that it is only a name - there is a Weasley matriarch somewhere in the line named Muriel, I believe, but you have just appeared in my office in a way I have only seen Gabriel manage."

Muriel only nodded. She looked somewhat impressed, but Dumbledore had managed to figure it out with just a name.

Gabriel glanced at the cloak draped over a stand near the desk, slightly worn and rumpled, as if Dumbledore had just taken it off. "Just get back from somewhere?"

"I did, as a matter of fact," Dumbledore replied. "But I don't believe that's what you came to ask me about."

"No," Muriel agreed. "It was about Voldemort. He was a student here." It wasn't a question.

Dumbledore's attention visibly sharpened. "He was," he replied guardedly. "I was still Transfiguration professor at the time. It was quite a while ago. At the time, none of us guessed what Tom Riddle might become."

Gabriel frowned. "Tom Riddle? Wasn't he the asshole in that diary from the other year?"

Dumbledore didn't react to the profanity beyond raising his eyebrows slightly. "He was. That diary was, I believe, the first Horcrux he made - a perfect preservation of his sixteen-year-old self. Of course, you destroyed that one, but I'm surprised you didn't realize who it was."

"I was a little busy to listen to him monologuing," Gabriel replied. "Seems kind of careless for him to let someone get their hands on something like that."

"If he made more, he wouldn't worry about one being destroyed," Muriel said.

"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "That is, in fact, partly why I have been gone so often this year."

Gabriel had noticed that Dumbledore was rarely at the staff table, but he hadn't thought it was anything important. "You're going Horcrux hunting?"

"Not at all," Dumbledore said. "I have only guesses of what his other Horcruxes might be. I have, in all honesty, been following the trail of Tom Riddle's past."

"Why?" Muriel's head was tilted slightly.

"How else would one discover what Horcruxes he made, when only Voldemort himself knows all of them?" Dumbledore spread his hands. "The trail is difficult to follow and many involved are reluctant to speak, but I believe he made seven."

Gabriel's mouth twisted. Seven. Voldemort had mutilated his soul seven times over. He could see a similar disgust reflected on Muriel's face.

"All this to try and keep himself alive?" Muriel's tone reflected her expression.

"People can do terrible things when they're afraid of something," Dumbledore said calmly. "And Voldemort is quite terrified of death. Seven is still only a guess, but I am more sure of it than some of my other guesses. Seven is an inherently magical number, something that Voldemort would be drawn to."

"Going by that reasoning, there's four left," Gabriel said.

"The diary and the ring are gone, yes, but that leaves-"

"His snake was one, too. It's dead. Four left." Gabriel interrupted Dumbledore.

"This would be easier if you told the Order," Muriel said. "More people looking would mean that it would take less time to find them."

Dumbledore shook his head. "The more people know, the more likely it is that Voldemort might discover what we are looking for. If that happens-"

"You were fine with telling them about me," Gabriel scoffed. "What, suddenly you don't trust your own organization?"

Dumbledore looked grave. "Some things are better kept secret."

Gabriel didn't bother trying to hide his skepticism. "So you've got a bunch of guesses and no idea what the other four are."

"I have some idea. I believe Voldemort may have sought out Founder's objects; Hufflepuff's cup, Slytherin's locket, the like." Dumbledore explained. "Whether he managed to find Ravenclaw's diadem, I have no idea."

"The diadem isn't a Horcrux," Gabriel said. "Believe me." Voldemort couldn't have made it into one if he'd tried.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "You're sure of this? How?"

Gabriel couldn't resist. "Some things are better staying secret."

Muriel snorted, one hand rising to muffle it a little too late. Even Dumbledore looked a bit amused.

"Well," he said, "I supposed I can't fault you for that one."

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