Stranger Than Your Sympathy

Part One – Freshmen Year

Chapter One

Then

"FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY – FIRE YOUR GUN NOW!"

Dean shook his head. The ghost in front of him was unlike any ghost he had ever seen before. She wasn't big and scary. She didn't have an ugly look on her face. In fact…she looked a little like his mother. But so sad. He needed to help her not…

As she stepped up to him, she reached out her hand and, in a way that he wasn't expecting at all, it shot straight through his chest and felt like she was gripping his heart.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. But it was like the freezing cold of her hand was traveling up his throat and into his mouth so the sound was frozen.

Instead of firing the gun, he dropped it as he struggled to breathe. He wasn't even fighting it at this point – the sadness he had seen on the woman's face was now engulfing him and he couldn't even remember why he was fighting in the first place, surely it would be better if he just…

BANG!

The shot rang out and he felt a thump as the bullet (filled with salt) hit his shoulder (thankfully covered by a bullet-proof vest), knocking him to the ground, but removing the cold so suddenly that he felt like he had been plunged into molten lava.

"Don't just lie there like an idiot – that will only slow her down. Her bones are in the fireplace – light them up now!" John ordered.

Moving as quickly as he could, but still in a complete daze, Dean stumbled to his feet and reached into his pocket for his lighter.

He could see the ghost reappear behind his father – but John was distracted by watching him, and as suddenly as she had appeared she had the big man shoved up against the wall. Dean was watching in horror as his dad's face turned blue.

"F…fire," his dad gasped out.

The bones! The ghost's face whipped around to Dean and let go of his dad, but this time, he was quicker than she was and she was still a good ten feet away from him when her head tilted back into a scream and she burned up in front of his eyes.

Breathing heavily, he stared at the spot, just as frozen as he had been earlier. The whole world seemed blurred and was spinning around him.

That was until he felt a sharp slap across his face.

"DEAN!"

Finally, the world came into focus. "D-d-d-a-d?"

"Yes, look at me, son."

Vision completely clear now, he saw his father's face. And he was not pleased.

"Sorry," Dean muttered quickly, "'m sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry? You nearly got me killed. And more importantly, you almost got yourself killed. Where the hell would that have left Sam? Huh? Because you can't handle a simple salt 'n burn? I thought you were better than this Dean. I thought I had taught you better but…"

Terror of a completely different sort seized Dean. "But what?" He asked, eyes wide with fear.

John shook his head. "Clean this mess up," he said. "Can't leave any trace that we were here. If – and I truly mean if you manage a task that I thought you had mastered by the time you were six, then we'll talk. But only then."

Dean went about cleaning quickly. Sometimes he thought his dad only brought him on hunts for the cleanup. For some reason, his father was obsessed with the idea that there couldn't be any trace of hunters having been on the scene. He never explained why, always saying, "Never you mind, kid." Dean had stopped asking about it long ago. Now he just bent to his task, his shoulder still aching, hoping that he did a good enough job to avoid at least some of the punishment coming his way.

III

He called the phone inside the room twice from the pay phone on the other side of the parking lot and hung up after two rings before approaching the room and doing the secret knock on the door.

It flung open.

"DEAN!" Sam yelled, thrilled to see him.

Dean gave him his best winning smile despite feeling completely exhausted. Normally car rides with his dad were pleasant. Passed by listening to their favorite music and occasionally talking about how shitty the other drivers on the road were. They had only been a four-hour drive away from Sam this time and those hours had been spent in one of two ways. The first was yelling – going over and over every single one of the mistakes that Dean had made and making him repeat them back. I hesitated when shouldn't have. I was too weak to do what needed to be done. I almost got us killed. Repeated over and over again. But that was better than the heavy disappointed silence that followed the recitations.

His dad was too disappointed in him to even play music while they drove.

But all the pain and anguish of the last couple of hours vanished when Dean saw his little brother. "Heya, Sammy," he greeted, trying to move past him and into the room, as his Dad had ordered when they had parked. "I need to make some calls – go tell your brother what you did."

"Dean!" Sam called out a second time once the two of them were inside. "What happened? Are you ok?"

"What?" Dean asked, surprised. "Don't I look just fine?"

"No," Sam said. "You've got a bruise on your cheek and you're shaking. What happened? What were you hunting? Was it dangerous?"

"It was just a ghost, Sam," Dean said tiredly, sitting down on one of the beds in the room. The one that he and Sam shared if John was in the room at bedtime. If he wasn't, Dean would take the second bed, knowing that their father was likely to just collapse on the sofa, drunk, when he returned from whatever bar he had been in that night.

"Just a – if was just a ghost, Dad would have let me come too!"

"Nah – this one was nasty. Had a thing for little kids, we couldn't risk it."

"I'm not a little kid. I'm twelve! And I'm the one who found this hunt."

Dean sighed. It was true. And another reminder of how he was not good enough. He wasn't the one finding cases for them. Sam – once he grew out of his gangly phase, would be not only stronger than him but a better hunter. Because, unlike Dean, he was smart.

"Yeah, you're a genius. Look – Dad told me that I've gotta tell you what happened. You may want to sit down for this one."

Sam sat obediently, which almost made Dean snort because his little brother never behaved this well for their father.

"Look, Sam, I messed up…" he proceeded to tell Sam everything. Thankfully whatever God may be out there listening, his brother didn't interrupt at all. "…but we got it in the end," he finished lamely.

"Dean – that sounds really scary," Sam said.

"Nah," he shrugged off. "I just wasn't brave enough."

"You're the bravest," Sam argued.

Dean managed a grimace that resembled a smile. "That's not what Dad says."

"Screw Dad!"

"Shhh," Dean hushed him as John barged into the room.

"You tell him?" His dad asked.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied.

"Sam?"

"Sir?" His younger brother asked.

"What did Dean do wrong on the hunt?"

"Not a damn thing!" Sam yelled.

"Sam…" Dean warned.

John crossed his arms across his chest. "No, go on, Sam. What did your brother tell you?"

"He told me that he had a perfectly natural reaction to a friggin' ghost and you shouted at him and hit him even though he saved you from it."

"Dad – " Dean started, panicked. Because that was not what he had told his younger brother. Certainly not the part about where the bruise on his face came from. His dad's eyes were narrowed as he glared at both Dean and Sam. But after a second, his expression changed.

"You know, Sam, I figure you're right."

The protests and arguments that Dean was ready to lodge left him completely.

Sam looked just as dumbfounded. "What?"

"Your brother isn't ready for hunts with me. I thought he was – I thought he could handle it, but I think I've been greatly mistaken in his abilities. If he's going to act like a regular fourteen-year-old when it comes to something as simple as a salt 'n burn then I think I better start treating him like one."

Both Sam and Dean were stunned speechless.

"Dad – I just froze a little, it'll never…"

"No," John interrupted him. "No. It will happen again. And it has become clear to me that as long as you are around, Sam's gonna follow your lead and then I'll have two good-for-nothing sons. I just got off the phone with a buddy of mine. Called in a favor. Dean – I'm sending you off to be trained "properly." To a place that will hold your hand until you are man enough to go on actual hunts."

"But you haven't talked to Uncle Bobby in…" Sam started.

"Not Bobby. Jesus, Sam. I'm talking about a school. For the kids of hunters who aim to be hunters themselves. The same high school I went to."

"You dropped out of high school," Sam just could not keep his mouth shut. Dean would have glared at him but he was too nervous about what his father was saying. School? His dad had never cared about school before.

"Yeah, I dropped out of this high school. There was a war on and I thought my time would be better spent fighting for our freedom halfway across the world instead of practicing Latin all day. I made my own way as a hunter, without them and without the Council, but I think Dean needs more guidance. So – it's all worked out. In a month, Dean, you start Hogwarts."

III

Now

The worst part was this wasn't even a proper rainstorm. Instead of coming down heavily to match his mood, the sky was adding insult to injury and just spitting at him.

Exactly what one should expect in Seattle but it somehow added to the gloom in his heart as he stood on the pier with only a duffle bag. He was dreading what was coming up – so he decided to make one more last-ditch effort to make his father change his mind.

"Dad – I can learn way more working with you. I don't need to go to some stupid high school. I don't care if it's for hunters. There is nothing they can teach me that you can't."

Dean couldn't believe of all people that his father was insisting that he leave his family to attend some weird private school filled with (what he presumed to be) rich bastards who probably had never even seen a ghost before. "Look after, Sammy, son," had been his dad's mantra for as long as Dean could remember. How the hell was he supposed to do that if they weren't even in the same state?

His dad fixed him with a stare that would have made him gulp if he didn't know that kind of reaction would only make his father see him as weak. They had had this argument several times over the last month and this was always about as far as Dean got with him. Actually, this was a nice reaction. Dean knew that the look he was getting could lead to a whoppin'.

"I want to go with him!" Sammy complained before any words could come out of John's mouth, almost cutting the tension. "Come on, Dad, you know that I'm ready. Can't you talk to the principal and get him to make an exception for me? You and he go way back and you know that I'm already reading at an 11th-grade level, I'm sure that I could handle freshmen level…"

"Sam, I want you to go wait inside. Stand against that window where I can see you. Don't leave my sight. I need to speak with your brother for a moment."

Sam looked ready to rebel – like always, but Dean gave him a slight shake of his head and, reluctantly, his younger brother did as he was told.

"Dean," his father started. "You will stop this complaining immediately. You want a leg up in this world? You want to really be able to help me catch your mother's killer?"

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled. "But – "

But John wasn't done. "No. No more arguments. Right now, Dean, you're a liability. Not just to me but also to your brother. I wouldn't have dared argue with my father the way either of you are talking to me. You're turning him soft and I don't have time to be babysitting when I'm hot on the heels of this thing. Sam's old enough to look after himself now, and you have some work to do. If I thought you could keep up, I'd let you stay. But we both know you can't."

Dean looked down, tamping down his anger and shame. And his stray thought about how his father had only been a toddler when his father ran out. He didn't mean to hold his father back. No one – including his father, was more disappointed in him than himself after Dean had botched the salt 'n burn a month ago. It was then that his father announced that he would be leaving the family to go to school.

John sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Look, Dean – I honestly shoulda always planned on you going to Hogwarts. I thought that because I dropped out after freshman year they may not admit you at all. But if I had gone and gotten my official hunter certification then, then maybe your mom wouldn't've…" he shook his head. "This will be good for you, son. And for Sam."

Dean closed his eyes. If his dad was going to get all emotional over this…then…well, there was just no way out of it.

"Yes, sir," he conceded.

"That's my boy. And remember that I expect you to follow in my footsteps. And you know what that means, right?"

Barely, Dean thought. "I have to get sorted into Slytherin," he parroted back. Almost everything his father had told him about Hogwarts was about how great Slytherin was and how it not only prepared him for a tour in Vietnam, it also made him the hunter he was today.

"Damn right."

"But you won't tell me how I make that happen!" Another expectation without telling him how to achieve it. An order with no directions.

"'Course not – that's not the tradition. Now. Go say your goodbyes to your brother."

Dean knew when he was being dismissed.

He quickly moved over to Sam, who was being sheltered from the wind and rain from being just inside the terminal. That meant that there was no way to hide what looked like the beginning of tears on his face.

Dean pulled him into a hug. "No chick-flick moments, Sam. It'll be Christmas before you even know it. And only two more years you'll be joining me."

"I don't want you to go," Sam muttered into his chest.

"I know. But Dad says there is a pay phone on the island. I'll call you as soon as I can. Make sure you're behaving yourself."

Sam pulled away and rolled his eyes. "I'm not the punk here."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean smiled and ruffled Sam's hair – just to annoy him to distract him from how hard this was for both of them.

The horn on the boat blew.

"You know what that means, son," John joined them. "Time to go. Just in time – I just got a page from Jim and there's a hunt for Sam and me just down in Oregon."

Dean's stomach sank. He looked around at all the smiling faces of people saying goodbye to their parents and could feel the energy and excitement in the air, but he couldn't help but feel like he was going to his own execution.

With one last half-hug with Sam and a pat on his shoulder, he walked up the gangway to the ferry, not daring to look back. He didn't want his family to see the tears glistening in his eyes.

III

Dean's world had crumbled when he said goodbye to Sam on the pier so he wasn't in the mood to mingle with the happy teenagers greeting each other with smiles and hugs and exchanging, "what I did over the summer stories." Noticing that most people were congregating at either end of the boat, he found a secluded bench somewhere in the middle where he could wallow in his moody grief on his own.

He scrunched himself into the corner of a long bench, near a window, trying to disappear into the wall itself. Pulling his legs up to his chest, he loaded a tape into his Walkman so that he could blast Led Zepplin and forget that his family had been ripped away from him. He stared into the horizon to avoid having to look at the land getting further and further away.

Dean was only left alone in his misery for what felt like moments when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Always ready for a fight, he grabbed the knife he kept in his boots to defend himself from the potential threat coming his way.

Seeing who it was, he relaxed slightly. It was a weedy blonde boy, his hair plastered in greasy waves on the side of his head – about the same height as him, with a sneer on his face. Dean quickly assessed that this was not a real threat.

"You Winchester?" the kid asked when Dean removed his headphones to see what this dick wanted.

"What if I am?"

"I wouldn't have boarded this boat if I had known you'd be here this year," the kid said, looking him up and down, very unimpressed. "But then your Dad was spotted on the pier. Never thought I'd see the day when they permitted another Winchester into this school."

Dean had no idea what this dude's problem was and he bristled. He might be thinking some less-than-kind things about his father but there was no way that he was going to let someone else talk about him that way. John Winchester was a goddamned hero. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"John Winchester is a disgrace to his name and the hunter community. Oathbreaker. Filthy Muggle-lover. Take your pick of what kind of abomination he is. Can't expect you're any better."

Dean had enough. He stood to his full height, brandishing his knife at the asshat that dared talk about his father this way. His only regret is that John had confiscated his gun earlier that day, saying that Freshmen weren't allowed firearms. Maddingly, the kid did not look intimated in the least.

He whistled.

Two more kids appeared out of friggin' nowhere, each with knives of their own.

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Big man, only willing to take me on with two sidekicks. What, you don't think you have the strength to take an abomination like me on your own?" He taunted, hoping that it would convince this kid to take him on head-to-head.

But he had no such luck.

Before he had a chance to try and talk his way out of this situation, the blonde kid charged at him. Dean successfully dodged him and got in a good punch to the stomach, but he stood no chance when the other two boys joined the fray and pushed him against the window of the ferry – hard. One had his hand on his throat, holding up about two feet off the ground when the other grabbed his hands and knocked the knife out of them.

Dean was wiggling like the best of them, rage flowing through him. But the hand on his windpipe started constricting his throat so that he couldn't breathe and he started to panic.

As spots started to form in his vision and things were turning blurry, he heard some words spoken in Latin, and the kid who had him in a chokehold dropped him. Another kid, burley and strong-looking, had the blonde boy on the floor while the two sidekicks tried to free him from the kicks being delivered by the newcomer.

Dean was quick. After a couple of recovering breaths, he scrambled up from the heap that he had been on the ground, grabbed the large silver knife that one of the kids had been about to stab him with, and entered the fray.

He must have been a frightening enough presence with the boy who was helping him because all three of the jackasses quickly backed away.

This left only the newcomer and Dean was not confident enough to know if he was a friend or foe, so he pointed his knife at him, ready to keep fighting, even though he was breathing heavily.

"What, no thanks for savin' your hide?" The boy asked, a smile playing on his lips as he spoke with a Louisiana drawl.

"Sure. I won't shove this up your ass," Dean returned, looking down at his knife.

"Mm," the kid responded, "awful strange way to punch your meal ticket, friend. I got something you need."

"Yeah, what's that?" Dean asked, not physically letting down his defenses, but he was pretty sure that the danger had passed. Even though his heart was still beating very quickly.

"A way to keep creeps like this off your back," he said indicating his head towards the three kids who looked like they were all internally debating if they should attack again. "Go on, Vaught. Unless you want a repeat of last summer."

"Lafitte," Vaught spat. "What don't you just mind your own damn business? You can't like Winchester any better than I do."

"Don't matter much. I hate bullies more than anything else. Now – it's two on three if you really want to take on those odds. Clearly, this Winchester has some magic tricks up his sleeves, so…"

Vaught glared. "Kubrick, Creedy, let's go," he said, turning his back to them and walking about. "This isn't over!" He shouted over his shoulder.

Lafitte rolled his eyes. "You alright, chief?" He asked moving his gaze away from the retreating bullies and onto Dean. "Don't let Vaught and those losers bother you none. They think they'll be the big men on campus 'cause their parents are high up on the Council." He looked at the knife still clutched tight in Dean's fist.

Dean held back his blush and lowered the weapon. "Who were they?"

"Just Nick Vaught and his cronies. Not worth that wicked left hook I saw you usin'. He thinks he's the shit but we all know that he's a bastard that was only made legitimate 'cause his daddy lost his nuts in a fight with a Rougarou. His step-mom was pissed but…"

"How do you know him? How do you know all of this?"

Dean knew now that there was a community of hunters, but he had no idea they hung out with each other. It made him feel like even more of an outcast.

Lafitte shrugged. "Seen him 'round. It's a small community. Plus, he was at orientation struttin' around like a damn peacock. Don't recall seeing you there."

Dean ignored that comment. "What's he got against my dad?" He wanted to know how everyone seemed to know who his dad was when he knew that John Winchester hated hunter gatherings and avoided them like the plague.

The bigger boy looked surprised. "Don't know a hunter in the US who got a bigger reputation than your daddy. Most hunters won't go near him. Gotta be honest with you, chief, with the way he's burned bridges, I never would have expected to see you here either."

Dean had no idea that he was walking into an entire community that had beef with his dad. Suddenly, his saying that hunter gatherings were more trouble than they were worth took a different meaning. Dean had always thought it was other hunters who were the problem. Doubt began to creep into his mind.

"Didn't want to come in the first place," he muttered, embarrassed to be caught being so ignorant.

Lafitte raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're stuck now. I'm Benjamin Lafitte – of the Breaux Bridge Lafitte's, but all my friends call me Benny," he stuck out his hand. Dean took it.

"That supposed to mean something to me?"

Benny let out a bark of a laugh. "Maybe not. I like you, brother. You got a Christian name to go with that infamous last name?"

"Dean," he introduced himself.

"Well, Dean, it's a pleasure to meet you. Don't like a fils de pute like Vaught scare you none."

"I'm not scared," Dean said empathically, "but you said you got something to keep jerkoffs like that away from me?"

"Oh yeah. Got all sorts of spells and the like. Protection wards against magic. We need it down in the bayou. I'm sure your daddy taught you the basics already. Although I'm looking forward to learning whatever you used just then, friend," Benny was no longer looking at him. Instead, he was looking behind him.

Dean jumped a little and noticed, for the first time, a dark-haired boy with blue eyes and a dumb tan trench coat. That was almost enough to distract him from the words that Benny was saying. John Winchester had certainly never taught him anything that would be associated with monsters. He didn't believe in book learning at all, usually, expecting Dean to learn by watching. Then Dean was expected to teach what he learned to Sammy.

"I don't use spells," Dean said, glaring at the blue-eyed kid, who cocked his head. "No freak magic."

Benny raised an eyebrow. "Magic ain't for freaks. And with an attitude like that you're gonna fail several of our classes in the very first semester.

"They teach magic at Hogwarts?" Dean was horrified. He hated magic. Ok, maybe not magic. But he did very much hate witches. Most of the nightmares came from their hunts involving witches. His dad had always insisted that there were no spells that were as good as a gun. And it sounded like his dad would have had to have known about this before sending him. What the hell had he been thinking?

"'Course they do. Hell, don't think you could pass your NEWTs without knowin' a good bit of magic. You'll not qualify for the Hunter Registry if you don't pass at least three NEWTS that require you to have a good knowledge of magic."

Benny may as well have been speaking in his native French for all that Dean was understanding. He didn't know anything about exams. "Well, there's no way I'm going to try for this registry," he said stubbornly, "sounds like it's made up of inexperienced Gryffindor hunters who are lucky if they even make it out of their first year of hunting alive." He was using the only piece of information that he felt completely confident in. He looked between Benny and the new kid, expecting them both to react to his joke about Gryffindors.

"Don't know about Gryffindors, but what's the point of even being a hunter if you're not on the registry?" the dark-haired boy said, "I thought that was why Hogwarts exists." His expression was very serious and he seemed to generally disapprove of Dean. His voice was quiet but confident.

"Ain't never met you before, brother," Benny said to him, "your folks like John Winchester and avoid hunter gatherings too?"

The kid squinted at him. "My parents aren't hunters."

That surprised both Dean and Benny and they exchanged looks.

"How the hell you end up here then?" Benny asked.

In a deadpan voice, he responded, "What a curious curl in metaphysics. How do any of us get here and can anyone really claim to be anywhere?"

What. The. Hell. Dean thought.

Benny seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "How'd you learn magic like you just used there?"

Dean didn't even think he had seen the smaller kid use magic.

"I read a book. Have you ever tried it?" He asked, eyes narrowed.

"No – what's a book?" Benny asked as innocently as could be.

The kid held up a book.

"Huh – never seen one of those before. Have you Winchester?"

Dean ignored the question.

"There is no possible way you don't know what this is."

"What? Really? 'Cause I'm pretty sure…"

"You two are killing me," Dean interjected, wanting to get back to their conversation about magic at Hogwarts. "What's your name, kid?"

The boy snorted. "We're the same age. Castiel. I'm a – a – Novak," he stumbled, "of the Pontiac Novaks," he said pointedly at Benny.

Dean couldn't help but crack a smile. "Castiel," he tried saying out loud, "that's quite a mouthful."

Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"Cas – I think I'll call you Cas."

"If you must," Cas seemed to lose interest in the conversation as he opened the book he had been holding up before to start reading.

"A prime candidate for a namby-pamby Ravenclaw," Benny muttered, unhappy to have somehow lost the upper hand.

Cas slammed his book shut. "There's nothing namby nor pamby about Ravenclaws. If everyone were capable of thinking and like them, we would have far fewer hunter deaths.

"Aren't Ravenclaws just a bunch of book nerds?" Dean asked. "I think my brother is slated to go straight there. Not me – I'm gonna be a real hunter. Get into the real stuff. Slytherin is where I can learn how to take down those demon sons-of-bitches and that's the only reason I'm going to Hogwarts at all."

Now it was time for Benny and Cas to look at each other.

"What?"

"And I thought you seemed alright, brother," Benny said. "You do know that you'd be required to learn magic to deal with demons? Advanced Symbology and Ancient Runes, not to mention a NEWT in Hexes and Protective Magics. Plus, you know Vaught and those cons are goin' straight there."

Dean folded his arm, getting sick of learning new information. But he couldn't let Benny and Cas know that he was still so wrong-footed. "What are you? A big, dumb, Gryffindor? You're just monster chow. Slytherins use your kind as bait so that they can weed out the stupid monsters before taking on a real challenge."

Benny, infuriatingly, laughed and didn't look bothered in the least. "You got me, chief. My whole family's been Gryffindor. We're the best damn vampire hunters in the South."

Dean scoffed. "Yeah, you've ever ganked a vampire?"

"Nah. Ma mère is dead set against me huntin' anything 'til I've passed my NEWTS."

"No one should," Cas spoke again. "Not only is it illegal, it's why this school exists, right? To keep everyone safe while hunting."

"No such thing as a safe hunt," Dean muttered.

"Safer," Cas amended. "And all the houses are important. Without Lore hunters, many more people would die from sheer ignorance. I'd be proud to be a Ravenclaw."

"Well, my dad will come pull me out himself if I'm sorted anywhere but Slytherin," Dean said. Briefly, he wondered if that would be best. Then he shook his head. He didn't think he could face disappointing his dad again so soon. But it was clear that he wasn't going to last long at this school at all if he didn't learn a thing or two first.

And there were two willing nerds right in front of him.

"How long do you think we've got left on this boat ride?" He asked, abruptly changing the topic.

Castiel looked down at his watch. "An hour. But we're going to have to get changed into our uniforms before then.

Oh great, another thing to make me stand out like a sore thumb. Dean hadn't known that they had to wear uniforms and he sure as hell didn't have one. But he'd worry about that later. He turned to Benny.

"Since I missed orientation, why don't you fill me in?" For a second, he didn't respond and Dean started to get a little nervous. Then Benny's face shifted into a large grin.

"Happy to, brother," Benny looked pleased, "we'll start with why Gryffindor is the best house."

Both Dean and Cas groaned.

"If you must. But you're not going to change my mind."

"We'll see about that, brother."

III

The more that Benny described Gryffindors, the more uncomfortable Dean felt. Because, honestly, he had no idea how his father hadn't been one.

"The front lines," he had said, "the first ones in and the last ones out. They don't ever leave a man behind," Benny had boasted. That sounded a lot like what his dad had bragged about from his time in Vietnam.

After all, his father had dropped out of school to fight in a war – thinking that book learning was a waste of time when there were people out there dying.

At least, that is what he told Dean when he pulled him from class over and over again to help out on hunts. "What use do you have for English literature? Shakespeare won't help you handle a pack of ghouls."

He kept these thoughts to himself as Benny continued to describe Gryffindor.

"But how do they decide which house you go into?" Dean asked at the very end.

"No one knows before they get there," Benny said, "it's tradition."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, but I was hoping someone from an old hunting family like yours might know."

"I tried to get it outta my cousins but they were tight-lipped. Or they came up with ridiculous explanations. My cousin Gideon told me that I'd have to wrestle a werewolf." He rolled his eyes.

Cas's eyes were wide. "A werewolf? That sounds really impractical – how do they catch one and how do they make sure that no students are bitten?"

Benny laughed. "That's how I know it's a lie. And how would that work anyway? Gryffindors try to tackle it while Ravenclaws try to reason with it? Slytherins try to poison it while Hufflepuffs go in for a hug? Don't think so."

Cas seemed less worried. He looked down at his watch. "We really ought to be changing into our uniforms now."

Dean internally groaned at the second mention of a uniform. Until he had always assumed that hunters wore what his family did – used flannels and jeans from a thrift store.

"I think I saw some restrooms over there," Benny said, as he grabbed his backpack. Cas got up with him. "Coming, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. "I ain't wearing a stupid uniform."

"But you have to!" Cas exclaimed. "It's a requirement, you could…"

"Hey, Cas, why don't you go on ahead and we'll meet you there?" Benny interrupted, much to Dean's relief.

The blue-eyed boy looked uncertain but he eventually just shrugged and went off.

"You know, ma mère, she's a bit paranoid. Was worried I'd stain my uniform before I got to the school. She insisted that I pack two. I'm just so clumsy. You look to be about the same size as me – it's alright if you spilled somethin' on yours – you can borrow mine."

Dean was tempted to refuse. He didn't need handouts, but he couldn't help but buckle a bit at the kind expression on Benny's face. "Alright. You're right – got ketchup on my shirt and all down the pant legs when I had lunch with my dad and brother before getting to the dock."

Benny smiled, "Happy to help out, brother." He pulled gray pants, a stiff-looking white shirt, and a blazer out of his bag and handed it over to Dean. The blazer had the Hogwarts crest on it. "They'll give us our house ties when we get sorted," he said. "So, we don't need to wear 'em just yet."

There were friggin' ties too? Dean shook his head in annoyance. "Thanks, man," he said, hoping that Benny knew what he was truly thanking him for.

"No problem, chief. Let's get changed. Otherwise, Cas may report us to the principal before we even arrive."

Dean laughed and followed Benny.

III

"Freshmen – over here!" A loud, booming voice yelled when they had finally gotten off the boat.

Dean wasn't sure what he was expecting to see when he got to the secret island that held Hogwarts but he sure as hell was expecting something more than – this.

At the end of the gangplank, there was…well, nothing.

Not nothing, maybe, but a large wooden platform that had stairs that led to a forked path. Dean noticed that the older students immediately started up the path to the right as they were being called to the left. But it was impossible to see where the path went – all there was a grassy hill, blocking the view of whatever was on the horizon. In fact, other than the small, rocky beach, this whole place just appeared to be grass.

"Come on idjits, we don't got all day," the voice said called out impatiently. Dean turned his attention as soon as he heard the word idjit.

He walked over to where he was begin directed. And, sure enough, a man was wearing a trucker hat, an old flannel, and a pair of worn jeans.

"Uncle Bobby?" Dean couldn't help himself from saying as he approached the man.

Bobby's head snapped up. "Dean?" He asked, incredulous.

Dean grinned. "Yeah!" He ran up and slapped his dad's old friend on the shoulder. This was certainly making things look up for him.

After spending years of being dumped off at Bobby's house while his dad went on hunts, that had all abruptly ended when John had, as he always did, pissed his friend off to the point of being threatened off his property. That had been about four years ago.

"It's good to see you, kid," Bobby said, looking at him fondly for a moment, before seeming to remember what he was supposed to be doing. "We'll catch up later. Gotta wrangle the rest of these morons."

"Sucking up the teachers already, Winchester?"

The kid, Vaught, snuck up behind Dean.

Dean scowled.

"Don't think that you'll find all of them to be as soft a touch as Singer," he continued. "That man is a complete oaf. Honestly, I'm offended that he's allowed to teach here at all."

Dean didn't waste time correcting him – he just threw his fist back and punched Vaught straight in the face. No one talked about his family that way. And this was payback for the asshole having cornered and outnumbered him earlier.

To his great satisfaction, it knocked the kid back a bit. "How dare you, you…"

"What's goin' on over here?" Bobby interrupted.

"This…savage, punched me!" Vaught complained. "I demand that he be expelled at once."

Bobby snorted. "Quit yer whining. If you think a punch in the face is enough to get someone kicked outta Hogwarts, you've got another thing coming." He didn't give Vaught the chance to complain further. "Dean – cool it. I don't have time for this bullshit. I got put on babysittin' duty this year and I intend to see all you mongrels up to the school. So, stop this dilly-dallying and let's go."

Bobby turned on his heel and started leading them up the path.

From behind him, Benny whistled. "That how you got in, Dean? I wondered with your daddy's reputation, but if you know Bobby then…"

"What about Bobby?" Dean asked.

"It's a big deal that he got him to come teach at Hogwarts, is all," Benny said. "Despite what Vaught said, ain't no one more respected than Bobby Singer."

Dean could hardly disagree with that.

Benny clapped him on the back, "But we best be getting' on our way," he nodded toward the fact that they were now in the back of the pack.

It didn't take them long to catch up with the others.

And the view wasn't improving any either. It seemed to be a vast open field. Sure, it was pretty – panoramic ocean views that Dean knew Sam would be impressed with but it wasn't until they made it to the top of the hill that he was able to see anything of interest.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.

Perched on a bay about a hundred yards from the top of the hill they were on was a large lighthouse. The base was made out of sturdy stones and it rose out of the ground – standing about 200 feet above the surf below. The traditional lighthouses that Dean had seen had always been plain white or striped. And this one was striped alright – red, blue, green, and yellow. He didn't have a lot of experiences with lighthouses, but this one seemed wider than any other he had seen. Which, he supposed was needed if there were at least a hundred students by his count.

On either side of the lighthouse, there were buildings made from the same stone. They were too big to be houses and they reminded Dean of barracks that he had seen on military bases in movies.

Dean almost ran straight into Cas who standing still staring at the lighthouse with wonder.

"She's a beaut, ain't she?" Benny asked.

Those weren't the words Dean would've used. Tacky certainly came to mind. Grudgingly, and definitely not out loud, he had to admit that there was something…majestic about the lighthouse. Especially with the way the sun was setting behind it right now. For a moment it felt like he, Benny, and Cas were the only people in the world, and with the wind lightly blowing, he felt something that he wasn't sure he had ever felt since his mother died – or outside the Impala. Maybe this could be home.

"Yes," Cas said quietly – agreeing with Benny for the very first time.

The two of them looked at each other when they realized what had just happened and grinned.

"Alright, you've all gotten your look now. Dinner's gettin' cold," Bobby yelled up at them. For the first time, Dean noticed that the three of them were the last ones up at the top of the hill.

And he was never one to pass up a meal.

III

They made their way down to the entrance of the lighthouse just as the last of the returning students rushed into the building.

Standing outside the huge metal doors that were suddenly closed was a stout, black woman, with a welcoming expression on her face.

"That's Missouri Moseley," Cas supplied, speaking with awe.

That meant nothing to Dean.

"Woo-ee. We've gotten a really good rotation," Benny said, sounding equally impressed.

"Alright, get in a line – single file!" Bobby yelled. It took a couple of minutes, but the bunch of freshmen (Dean guessed that there were around 30 or so of them) eventually managed to form a line.

The kid at the front of the line – a blonde-haired girl with her hair pulled back into a long ponytail, stepped up to the woman and the doors first. Bobby, who was standing at the front of the line, held his arm out to prevent the person behind her from following directly behind.

The girl's head was held high and proud – Dean could tell even from the back of the line. When she reached the door, the woman started talking to her, but too quietly for anyone else to hear what they were saying. And it wasn't from lack of trying in everyone else in the line.

After a minute or so of talking, the teacher smiled and called out, "Joanna Beth Harvelle – Gryffindor!"

Joanna Beth went into the lighthouse. From her gait, Dean figured that she was happy with her placement.

It continued much the same with each student who walked up to the doors. Some conversations were longer than others. Dean was pretty sure that there was some sort of warding that prevented them from being able to overhear, which was a relief, but it didn't stop him from shuffling as far back in the line as possible. He didn't want to take any chances.

"Nicholas Vaught – Slytherin!"

"Told ya, brother," Benny gloated. Suddenly, Slytherin looked even less appealing than it had been when he realized that his new friends were likely to be in other houses. "Always knew that jackass would end up in Slytherin."

"Prickolas," Cas supplied, surprising both Dean and Benny.

Benny let out a belly laugh. "You're alright, cher. Can't wait to call him that to his face."

The line started getting shorter and shorter.

Victor Hendrickson went to Ravenclaw. Donna Hanscum, Hufflepuff. Ash Miles, Gryffindor. Guy Odem, Slytherin.

Eventually, it was Castiel's turn. He took his time getting to the door. His conversation with Missouri was one of the longest. They seemed to go back and forth quite a bit before she declared, "Castiel Novak – Gryffindor!"

Dean had been expecting him to go to Ravenclaw. Strange, he thought.

Benny was second to last. He walked up, shared a smile and a laugh before being declared Gryffindor too.

That made Dean's heart sink. Even though Benny had said that his whole family was Gryffindors, he was hoping that he would have a friend with him. Because the more he watched, the more he thought that his plan to be sorted into the wrong house early was not going to happen. This woman would stare straight into his soul and see him for the Winchester that he was and send him to the house where, apparently, his whole family went.

"You'll be fine, boy," Bobby said encouragingly as Dean stepped forward.

The woman smiled at him warmly as he approached. "Dean Winchester. Come on already, I ain't got all day."

He came in closer to her the way he had seen the other kids do. "Well, lemme look at ya," she laughed. "You grew up handsome – and you were one goofy-lookin' kid, too."

Dean didn't respond but she kept going as if he were speaking his thoughts out loud.

"Of course, I knew you as a kid. Lived in the same town as your mom and dad. That daddy of yours brought you boys by once a week for close to six months before headin' out on that crusade of his. But that's neither here nor there, we've got to find a place for you. You know the houses are more than places to sleep – they're families."

"I've already got a family," Dean said. "Just say it already and get this over with."

She raised an eyebrow and smacked up on the back of the head.

"Ow! That's child abuse."

"You're not hurt none," she scolded, "your family don't determine this – even if that's what some people believe. You think that Slytherin means you're doomed to become your father."

"I – "

"No use denyin' it now. And you think your daddy will pull you straight out if you go anywhere else. Well, he'd have to get through Bobby first, then Carlos, then me. And trust me, he don't have what it takes to do that. Now, stop talking, and let me concentrate."

For a couple of minutes, she said nothing while Dean's mind raced. What did she mean that others would stop him from pulling him out of the school? Were they going to force him to stay? Should he be running?

"Just means you've got a lot of people who care an awful lot about you. And I know you're missin' your brother, but he'll be here soon enough. Now – I've seen what I need to."

She turned to face the only person still in front of the lighthouse – everyone else had long gone through the door. "Dean Winchester – Gryffindor."

AN - Welcome to my new story! This fic idea crept into my brain and rotted it until I had to start writing it. I hope that y'all enjoy it, I'm very much looking forward to exploring Sam and Dean's brotherhood through the lens of Sirius and Regulus. I'm also proud that this fic is technically both Destiel and Wolfstar, but that will come far down the line. This is meant to be a true fusion, so all characters will be a combination of themselves and their Harry Potter counterparts.

As such, I have a couple of housekeeping notes about this world:
- Sam and Dean are two years apart instead of four to match Sirius and Regulus
- John is meant to be a combination of Orion and Walburga Black, as well as himself
- Benny is a human
- Benny = James Potter Castiel = Remus Lupin Ash = Peter Pettigrew, you'll figure out the others as we move through
- There is a little bit of unreliable narrating - not a ton, but sometimes the characters will contradict each other, this is done on purpose, not because I forgot what I have written (hopefully)
- This is set in the late 90s
- Destiel is the endgame - but it's going to take a long time to get there.

Let me know what you think!