Chapter 6: House of the Rising Sun Part 2

My mother was a tailor

She sewed my new blue jeans

My father was a gamblin' man

Down in New Orleans

After saying a quick goodnight to the other in the Team (and those that were forced into it), Adam, dragging the angry and kicking Jo away from Crowley (who thought it funny to try to send Growley with them), dutifully followed Percy Wealsey through the halls of Hogwarts to get to the Gryffindor Tower.

Finally, he was able to experience the true amazing architecture and liveliness that encapsulate Hogwarts. The marble staircase continued into the Early Middle Age design markings Adam made note of, internally comparing the books, the movies, and his real experience simultaneously. The moving paintings in their era-appropriate framing and color schemes were gorgeous. The painting themselves watched in interest at the first years; they made whispered remarks that Adam couldn't—and rather didn't want to—hear. The fact that they were alive at all was enough for Adam's overwhelmed mind.

Unfortunately for the boy who wanted to share his amazement, Jo was despondent. The full-stomach and loud antics at dinner coupled by being in a teenage body had worn her out. She answered Adam's awe in grunts and hums. Jo's lack of response, however, did not dissuade him; instead, he fell behind to crowd to draw within himself in order to feel the energy that Hogwarts Castle contained.

There was an almost childish mischievous feeling the castle exhumed through its moving staircases and hiding halls behind tapestries juxtaposed with a well-worn wise aura beyond described in the books. Mindless and indistinct chatter filled the vast space, giving the old castle a warm feel Adam had not experienced since his mother's death. For a moment, if he paused and let his mind open to the magic within, he could almost distinguish the magics from hundreds of years weaved into the castle's very existence.

He could understand the "home" that Hogwarts was for the thousands of children who've attended, and now his magic would be added, too. This was the magical world he wanted to experience. He would live a thousand deaths, or brave a year in the Cage, just to know that there was more to the supernatural than the horrors of the American variety. Reassurance beyond measure is man's greatest treasure, Adam wryly misquoted to himself. After his respite, he brought his mind back to awareness of his physical surroundings. A good thing too, for as soon as he did so, the group stopped short.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist."

While the other first years shared uncertain looks, Jo scoffed at the nervous air the first years created. That is exactly what the son-of-a-bitch wanted to happen; the kids played right into the poltergeist's hand. She caught Adam's attention and dramatically rolled her eyes.

She mouthed 'Just get some salt'

A chuckle escaped his lips before he mouthed back 'They're just first years. They don't know better.' to the Hunter.

Meanwhile Percy raised his voice, "Peeves - show yourself"

A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop (which nearly sent Jo into Hunter-mode before Adam, who had maneuvered back to Jo), and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross- legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.

"Go away, Peeves, or the Baron'll hear about this, I mean it!" barked Percy.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville's head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armor as he passed.

"You want to watch out for Peeves," said Percy, as they set off again. "The Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him, he won't even listen to us prefects. Here we are."

At the very end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress. They lethargically approached her.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. "Remember that, it's our password for the next week or so." He warned the first years who were more busy scrambling through the hole than listen to their prefect. Adam listened while giving Neville a needed leg up.

They found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs. Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. Jo gave a sleepy goodnight to Adam before heading up to her dormitory. Adam followed the other first year boys. At the top of a spiral staircase - they were obviously in one of the towers - they found their beds at last: five four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, most of them pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

Adam took more time, carefully double-checking that the weapons Dean and Bobby had him store were where they were supposed to be without tipping off his roommates. Once he had all weapons: a side-by-side sawed off shotgun with salt rounds, two silver knives, a machete, a pocket knife, and a Swiss Army knife all accounted for, he readied for bed.

"Great food, isn't it?" Ron muttered to Harry through the hangings. "Get off, Scabbers! He's chewing my sheets."

"Perhaps you should get a cage for him during the nights." Adam shrugged his shoulder from his sitting position on his bed, which was located beside Harry's. Although he was tired, he didn't want to fall asleep just yet. Rather, he wanted to take in the reality of the situation once again. He didn't want to ever tire of the Wizarding World.

Ron lifted his head to examine the Winchester. "You're one of those weirdos right. The group who mouthed off to the Professors McGonagall and Snape? You're lucky McGonagall didn't give you detention, or worse."

"That group- They're my family." Adam admitted, almost apologetic in his mannerisms. He, along with Meg and Sam, warned the others about a 'low profile' but the other two had forgotten the warnings just as quickly as the rest of the group had (although Adam was concinved Crowley and Gabriel were purposely create a high profile for TFW (and those forced into it) just to spite their warnings) when they entered Platform 9 and 3/4. Oh well, I guess I have to be the voice of reason and sanity-anchor of the group.

"No offense mate, but your family is bloody insane!" Ron blurted out.

"What do you mean?" Adam was rather affronted by the declaration. Sure, they were insane by any natural measure, but this was coming from a wizard—someone who fell within the realm of insane ramblings and had little room to judge the eccentricities of his family. I'm a little too defensive, Adam conceded to himself.

"Talks of hell hounds, angels, and demons?" Ron shook his head. "Bloody mental that bit."

"What do you know?" Adam retorted, but explained his position before Ron's heated response came. "As you can tell, we're American , well except Crowley, but that's beside the point. We have a different system and different beasts than the British Wizarding World. My father's... brother hunts, and captures, rogue beasts. And the stories he told us were unlike anything we've seen in the past month of living in Britain. What my family considers a hellhound would be the equivalent of your Cù-Sith," Adam remembered the story of Sam's wand. "A magical beast not found, at least not by that name, in America. So who's to say what's insane or not. I mean, Harry has lived with Muggles, just found out he's a Wizard."

Adam gestured to the Boy-Who-Lived. He felt a little guilty dragging the almost asleep boy into the conversation, but he needed to ensure Ron, and the other awake first year males, would understand the differences across the pond was more than just accents.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I guess if I didn't know better now, I would think anyone claiming to be a wizard to be off their rockers."

"I'm merely saying that we aren't mental. We just grew up in different worlds." Adam shrugged. His point had been made and no counter was offered. The eleven year olds accepted his reasoning as eleven year olds do, and promptly pushed any thought besides sleep out of their minds.

Adam too laid down completely to rest. Soon, similar to the others, he drifted into a comfortable dream about a comforting, magical presence.

He dreamt of home.

AN: I am sorry about the late (and kind of short in my opinion) update. Junior year went harder than expected between my AP and online classes. I also was dealing with some creative difficulties that definitely DIDN'T help with writing this story. I feel super guilty, but hopefully, I will continue updating. Totally check out another adaptation of this type of story by The girl of many Fandoms52

link here: s/12789884/1/We-re-witches

Thank you all who have kept with the story! I love and thank your support. Be back soon.