Harry wakes up to an aching scar and a throbbing hand. Merlin, he wishes he could go back to sleep and stay that way for at least a week.

He had spent the night before in detention with Professor Umbridge. Again. This has been his fourth detention with the bit-- sorry the witch since the school year began a few weeks ago. The new defense professor seems to have it out for him, which is unsurprising considering Harry's history with past professors in the position. On top of trying to find sleep through the pain of having to carve fucking words into his hand, he's had the damn dream again. A dark, marble corridor leading to a large black door. If the Dark Lord has to send him a vision, he would appreciate the tosser being a bit more creative. Honestly, he's so tired of dreaming of a hallway night after night.

What is surprising is that his detentions consist of physical punishment, not something he has experienced outside of the Dursley household. While his sister spent the first Friday evening of the year scrubbing cauldrons for their bastard of a potions professor, Harry spent several hours carving words into the back of his hand. A month into school and three more detentions later, he's decided that Umbridge is more like the imposters his brothers hunt rather than a proper witch like Lea or Hermione. Harry's fairly sure that Sam and Dean would have 'ganked the bitch' by now if they were in his situation. As it is, Harry has found himself having to keep the details of his nights with Umbridge under wraps, lest his sister find out and raze Hogwarts to the ground. Or worse, Lea might call Dean and have his angel friend come to Scotland and start smiting people.

Finding a way to keep in contact with their brothers and Bobby had been one of the only highlights of the school year so far. On Saturday evenings, Harry and Lea venture out to the Shrieking Shack, leaving the wards that cover Hogwarts and would definitely fry their cell phones if they attempted to use the devices in the school. In the substantially less magically saturated building, they would call Bobby and then their brothers, updating them on their week at school and receiving updates on the coming apocalypse in return. Maybe not a completely fair trade, but Harry thinks him and Lea are getting the more important information out of the deal anyway. After speaking with their American family members, the twins then usually use the privacy of the shack to call their godfather on their mirror. These calls are not as enlightening and honestly more heartbreaking than anything. Sirius has been addled in the brain since Harry met him, but he seems to have gotten even worse after being forced to live in his childhood home for months without being able to leave. Based on Ron and Hermione's descriptions of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry would go insane too.

Today he is free of classes and torturous detentions. The first Hogsmeade weekend of the year means that Harry has an entire day to wander around the village without worrying about blood quills, mysterious corridors, or even the damn apocalypse. So, despite the pain in his hand and head, he drags himself out of bed and dresses for the day, pulling on clothes that actually fit him properly courtesy of Dean's stolen credit cards. By the time he's finished and is attempting to style his unruly hair, Ron has stumbled from his own bed and into the shower. Harry can't stop the chuckle that bubbles up his throat at his best friend's girlish scream from the cold water. Ron has never had the patience to wait for the shower to warm before jumping in.

"I'll meet you down at breakfast." He calls to the redhead on his way out of the bathroom.

"Save me some bacon, mate!"

The October wind is cool on his exposed skin as Harry follows Ron around Honeydukes. They had lost Hermione to the bookstore, Tomes and Scrolls, and Lea to Tricklebum's Second-Hand Treasures. The witches had promised to reconvene with them at The Three Broomsticks at lunch. Harry picks through the never ending candy options, taking ones that he thinks his brothers would like, and making sure to slip a few boxes of Bertie Bott's into the mix for Adam to trick their older brothers with. He and Lea had sent Adam a few healing books for his birthday a couple of weeks back, thinking the other boy would enjoy comparing them to his muggle medical textbooks.

"Lost your groupies, Potter?"

Ron scoffs beside him, turning away from where he was perusing the different flavors of Acid Pops. Harry turns with him, immediately rolling his eyes at the sight of Draco Malfoy standing before them, framed by Dumb and Dumber. Crabbe and Goyle glower down at them, arms crossed in an attempt to look threatening. Harry can't help but compare them to some of the creatures he saw with his siblings over the summer. The wannabe bodyguards are more comparable to pygmy puffs after that. A snort escapes him at that mental image.

"Something funny?" Malfoy scowls in annoyance before tilting his pointy nose in the air arrogantly. "See that your guard dog sister isn't here to defend you."

"You keep mention of my sister out of your mouth, Malfoy, or you might find my fist in it next." Harry glares at the Slytherin, fists clenching at his side.

Malfoy scoffs. "As if, Potter. Just because you got lucky and killed Diggory to win the tournament, doesn't mean-"

The blond is cut off by a closed fist hitting his jaw, knocking him and his cronies over like a bunch of bowling pins. Surprisingly, Harry was not the one to throw the punch.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shakes out his hand, wincing as he flexes his fingers. "Wanker's got a pointy chin."

A laugh bubbles up his throat and Harry doubles over, practically hysterical at the situation before him. Ron grins sheepishly.

"Wait until my father hears about this!" Malfoy's voice is muffled as he gets to his feet, hand trying to staunch the bleeding from his lip.

"Yeha, go cry about it to daddy, Malfoy." Ron smirks. "Let him know that about the time Hermione hit you one as well." Harry laughs even harder. Ron throws an arm around his shoulder, pulling him upright and toward the checkout. "Come on, Har. Let's go before Malfoy earns himself a black eye, too."

"You punched Draco Malfoy?"

"Ronald!"

Lea is looking at Ron in a mixture of admiration and jealousy while Hermione seems to be trying to cover her delight with disapproval. Harry grins, not having stopped smiling since Ron's fist met Malfoy's smarmy face.

"He knocked the git straight on his arse, right in the middle of Honeydukes. Ugh, of all the times for Colin to not be nearby with his camera ready." Harry sighs wistfully, taking a sip of his butterbeer. "I'd pay good galleons for a blown up canvas of that moment."

"I'd pay good galleons for Hermione to still have a time turner so that I could see it happen in person!" Lea scowls half heartedly into her own mug.

"Azalea!" Hermione hisses, elbowing Harry's sister a little harshly. "Don't say that so loud!"

"Mione, I can barely hear the boys across from us." Lea rolls her eyes. "I doubt anyone in this pub can hear what I'm saying with all the noise they're making."

She's not wrong. The Three Broomsticks has been booming with noise since before Harry and Ron arrived. They had been able to hear the pub before they could see it. Ron leans back in his seat beside Harry, looking rather smug.

"The look on the tosser's face has made my year." The ginger smirks before immediately spilling butterbeer down his shirt. Ron curses, scrambling for a napkin. Harry snickers at his best friend's failed attempt at looking cool, causing said friend to toss him a glare and a wet napkin.

"As entertaining as you two and your story is, I think we have bigger things to talk about." Hermione straightens in her own seat, clasping her hands on the table. The other three give her curious looks, Harry pausing in where he had been about to throw the sopping towel back at Ron.

"What things, Mione?" Ron furrows his brows as he finishes cleaning up his mess.

"The fact that we are going to fail our Defense OWL if we don't do something about Umbridge soon."

" Professor Umbridge, Hermione." Lea teases, nudging their friend who is usually the one to make such corrections.

Hermione scoffs. "Please. The woman is barely a teacher, let alone deserving of the title."

"Why, Hermione!" Harry feigns offense. "How dare you speak of our beloved professor in such a way!"

The witch crinkles her nose and rolls her eyes. She turns away from the group for a moment, digging through the messenger bag that is almost always on her person. Hermione sets a stack of parchment on the table before them all. "This is the curriculum Professor Lupin used for fifth year students back in our third year."

Harry and Ron blink at the thick stack in surprise as Lea slides some of the parchment toward herself. "Hermione, where did you get this?"

"I owled Professor Lupin last week to ask him for help." Hermione sniffs, flipping through some of the papers. "This is all we need to cover if we're going to be able to pass our DADA OWL."

"How are we supposed to teach ourselves all of this?" Ron groans, not tearing his eyes away from the abundance of paperwork as he gulps down his butterbeer.

"Harry's going to teach us."

Their table goes silent. Harry swears that he must have misheard his friend. "Sorry, what?"

"You are the most qualified student in our year, if not in the school. It only makes sense for you to teach us." Hermione says simply, though she doesn't meet his eyes.

"Do you hear yourself, Hermione? Student! I'm a student , not a bloody professor!" Harry can feel his eye trying to bulge straight out of his face as he tries to get his words into his friend's (probably cluttered considering all the things the witch knows) head.

"Yes, well, it's not like we have a better option at the moment, do we? Besides, you've probably done more defensive magic in the past four years than Umbridge has in her entire life." He can't help noticing that Hermione has picked up a napkin at some point and is now shredding it into tiny pieces on the table top. Despite the nervous tick, his best friend still stares at him confidently, her expression daring him to argue against her.

"She's got you there, mate." Ron shrugs.

"What the bloody hell is going on?!" Harry exclaims, causing Hermione to frantically shush him when his outburst draws attention from students at surrounding tables.

"You know, I think Mione might be onto something." Harry jerks his head to the side to stare at his twin sister in absolute betrayal. Lea raises her brows, as if surprised by his reaction to the ridiculous conversation they are having. "What? She's not wrong about the experience bit? Plus, we've learned some muggle defense from Sam and Dean. And I would prefer for us to pass our OWLs."

"You've all gone bleeding mad." Harry gapes at the other three occupants of the table. "The whole lot of you! I mean, this is abso-fucking-lutely insane. I am not a teacher."

"You taught me the Patronus Charm." Lea interjects again. Harry does not like the look on her face. He can't believe she's actually considering this.

"That's different." He shakes his head, both in denial and an attempt to clear his mind.

"Not really." Hermione begins again. "Besides, you'd have us to help you! I already have the curriculum and can begin to alter Professor Lupin's lesson plans. You can practice teaching on the three of us. I'm sure there will be others that will want to join. You could think of it as a study group, if that helps."

This apparently is not a subject that is going to go away. Harry lifts his butterbeer and drains the mug before setting it back down a bit harder than he intended. "I'll see you guys back at the castle."

Ignoring the protests of his friends and sister, he shoves his way through the mass of students filling The Three Broomsticks until he's back out in the autumn air. He lets the breeze cool his heated skin. His day had been going so well, too, before Hermione lost her mind. No detention with the pink toad, Ron slugged Malfoy, and Harry even found the broom polish he prefers in the quidditch supply store. Ugh. he should have known that his life isn't supposed to run smoothly for more than a handful of hours at a time.

-

Dean has had a great day! A successful hunt, a successful pool hussle, and a successful score with the hot bartender. Making it even better, he is able to slip out of said bartender's apartment without waking her just as the first rays of sunlight breach the horizon. He can't help whistling smugly to himself as he makes his way to his car. Baby purrs to life as he turns the key in the ignition, peeling out of the parking lot of the complex and heading back toward the motel where two of his brothers should be waiting on him. Metallica plays on the radio and he hums along. It already seems like the start of another good day.

Then, his phone rings.

"What's up?"

"Hello Dean."

"Cas-"

"Where are you currently?"

"Uh," He glances at a passing road sign. "Driving down Main Street in Huntington, Indiana. Why?"

"We need to talk."

"Son of a bitch!" The car swerves on the road as Dean jerks in surprise. The sudden presence of a certain angel in his passenger seat has probably taken a few years off of his life. "I thought I told you to stop doing that!"

"I apologize." Castiel tilts his head slightly.

Dean huffs but shrugs it off. "Just, give a guy a warning before you poof in like that." Cas nods in acqueseience. "So, what is it?"

"I have a…case that I need your help with."

"Uh huh." He eyes the angel suspiciously for a moment. He's still not always sure what to make of Castiel. "What kind of case?"

"There have been some strange happenings in Alliance, Nebraska. I would appreciate you looking into it."

Dean snorts, keeping his eyes on the road as he turns into the lot of the motel. "Strange happenings, huh? Stranger than the damn apocalypse your guys instigated." He looks over as he puts the Impala into park, only to find his passenger seat empty once more. He releases a sigh, muttering to himself. "Damn angel can't spare anymore time to give up some details? Strange happenings my ass."

He's just outside their room when his phone rings again. He hits accept without looking, pausing outside the motel room. "Got another request, Cas?"

"Does your phone not have a caller ID?"

"Azalea?" He pulls the cell away from his ear to confirm that it's his little sister calling. "Do you know what time it is?" He glances at the still rising sun.

"Just past noon here, so - oh."

Dean huffs a laugh despite himself and steps away from his still closed room door. He leans on the railing opposite the door, looking down at his car from where he is not on the second floor of the motel. "Yeah, the ass crack of dawn over here."

"Well, you're obviously awake so no harm, no foul." He can practically see her shrug through the phone. "Have you talked to Harry?"

"Not since last weekend. Was I supposed to have talked with him?"

His little sister lets out a sigh that sounds closer to a growl through his phone speakers. "No. He's just avoiding me. If he didn't rat to you, it must have been Adam or Sam."

"What does he have to rat you out about? You two already causing trouble? You ain't even been over there two months yet!"

"Not yet but there's still plenty of time left in the term." Though he's sure that she meant the words as a joke, Dean can tell that she's scowling anyway. He's glad to know that at least one of the twins realizes the dangers they've faced at that death trap of a school. "Anyway, I was really just calling to see if he had called you. He's upset with me and our two friends. I'll let you get back to sleep or whatever you were doing now."

"Hold on." Dean stops her before she can hang up. "What's Sammy Jr. mad about?"

There's a pause as if Lea is deciding whether or not to tell him before she releases a frustrated groan. Dean can hear some sort of thud in the background, so he assumes that she's flopped down somewhere to launch into her story. He listens as she tells of their new teacher, Underbridge or something, that seems to have a real stick up her ass. She also seems to have it out for their brother based on the amount of detentions Lea says Harry has spent with her. On top of that, she's not even teaching them. Honestly, this is starting to sound like half of the teachers Dean dealt with in the various high schools he attended in his teenage years. Apparently, one of the twins' friends, the girl, suggested that Harry should teach them since he has the most "field experience." Dean lets Lea finish ranting about the entire ordeal, ending with the fact that her twin hasn't been seen since he left them in a huff the day before.

"So, let me get this straight." Dean flips the pocket knife in his hand, having pulled it out halfway through his sister's tale to occupy himself. "Your teacher sucks and is going to make you all fail some big test because she doesn't teach anything practical."

"Right."

"So you asked Harry to teach you guys instead because he's the best at the subject, allegedly."

"Yeah."

"And he doesn't want to do it."

Lea sighs into the phone. "He says that he's not a teacher and that we're insane."

"Well…"

"Dean!"

"Azalea, you fought a basilisk at the age of twelve and Harry tried to face off a supposed mass murderer at age thirteen. Neither of you are exactly sane."

"Well, when you put it that way…"

"Look, Lea, give Harry some room to breathe. Let him cool off and then why don't the two of you sit down and actually talk about it. You tell him exactly why you think he should lead a study group and then listen when he tells you why he doesn't want to do it. Then you both think of a way to compromise without it leading to your teacher trying to kill Harry like the last four have."

"I really wish you hadn't read those books."

"Azalea."

"...Fine. I'll be patient and then talk and then compromise ." She says the word in disgust. "But if I'm having to have a real talk with Harry, then you have to talk to Sam!"

"Sammy and I talk everyday."

He can hear her eyes roll through the phone. "I talk to Adam, you know. You and Sam keep dancing around the way the gate opening went down. We know you two didn't tell us everything, but for the love of Merlin sit down and talk to each other before the two of you's angry tension runs Adam back to medical school." They're both silent for a moment. "On second thought, Adam is the only one of us with a chance at a normal life. Maybe try harder to get him back in school."

"Don't you have class or something?" Dean snaps the pocket knife closed, tucking it back in his jeans with a frown.

"It's Sunday, De."

"Well, go ride a broom or something."

"Love you too, Dean." The line goes dead. Dean looks at the motel room door.

He knows that he and Sammy haven't been at their best since the whole Dean-getting-abducted-by-angels-and-Sam-opening-the-devil's-cage thing, but he didn't think they were obvious enough for Adam to realize their issues. Damn it. He's gonna have to have a heart to heart with his brother isn't he? Ugh. Well. maybe it can at least wait until after whatever case Cas is dragging them into. He straightens from his position against the rail and finally enters the motel.

"Up and at 'em, boys! We're heading to Nebraska."