"And then he was running-" Sam cut himself off he was laughing so hard. "He was running from a Yorkie," he cackled, trying to take a sip of his beer and spilling some of it down his top.

Dean sat at the opposite end of the table, a scowl on his lips, his own bottle in his hands. Hermione threw her head back and laughed, finding the whole story hilarious. The oven dinged and she made to stand up, but Harry did it first, waving her back into her seat. "I've got it," he told her, a humored grin on his face. She laughed again, sitting back down and taking a sip of her beer.

"God," she chuckled, wiping at her eye. "I'd pay good money to see that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dean muttered unhappily, fighting a smile of his own. "Laugh it up."

"You should have just called us," Hermione told him with an amused grin, watching over her shoulder as Harry pulled the lasagne out of the oven. She rolled her eyes as he hissed in pain, burning his hand on the hot dish. She picked up her wand, flicking it in his direction so the dish of lasagne drifted out of his hands and onto the bench seamlessly.

Dean made a noise in the back of his throat, and Hermione looked over at him curiously. He took a sip of his beer, smiling around the rim of the bottle. "That's gonna take some getting used to."

Hermione chuckled again, idly thinking that it'd been a long time since she'd laughed so much. "Imagine how I felt when I turned eleven," she said, grinning over at him.

"So tell me more about this magic school," Dean said, placing his beer on the table and leaning closer.

"What do you wanna know?" she asked, mirroring his stance and resting her elbows on the table.

"Well, what kinda of stuff did you learn? Pulling rabbits out of hats? Turning people into toads?"

Hermione giggled, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Well, we had a potions class, transfiguration and history of magic, charms and defense against the dark arts. Herbology and astronomy were okay. Divination isn't even worth mentioning. Oh, ancient runes and arithmancy; now those were some fascinating classes," she told him eagerly, thinking back to her Hogwarts days. Harry laughed from where he was dishing out the lasagne onto their respective plates.

"You were probably the nerdiest kid in the whole school," Dean chuckled, watching her with a grin. "I bet you were top of every class."

"She got O's in everything but Defense," Harry informed them from the kitchen as he got fresh butterbeers out for everyone.

"O's?" Sam asked, finishing off the last of his current beer before handing the empty bottle off to Harry.

"Wizarding grades," Hermione told him, taking her plate from Harry with a kind smile. "O is our A, it stands for Outstanding."

"Why use O?"

"Why use A?"

Sam pondered that for a moment, crease appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned thoughtfully. "Fair enough," he eventually decided, a small grin appearing on his lips. She chuckled as she took her plate from Harry, smiling at him gratefully. She didn't bother waiting for everybody else, merely picking up her fork and spearing a piece of food, popping it into her mouth with a satisfied moan. "Mm," Sam echoed her, closing his eyes as he savored his mouthful. "Hermione, you've really out done yourself this time."

She laughed, not bothering to reply as she shoveled another mouthful onto her tongue. Dinner conversation was light as her and Harry told them the story of Gilroy Lockheart. Hermione got up at one point, disappearing into the study and returning a moment later with Harry's signed copy of Magical Me. "She had the biggest crush on him," Harry told them conspiratorially, grinning widely at his best friend.

Hermione tried her hardest not to flush, giggling into her beer as she peered at the book Dean was staring at. "He was dashing," she told them defensively, remembering the handsome blond teacher she'd had at the tender age of twelve.

"He was the worst teacher we ever had!" Harry scoffed.

Hermione rolled her eyes, pointing her fork at him accusingly. "I think we're forgetting a certain toad-faced Ministry worker," she said, a small smirk on her lips.

"Ugh," Harry grunted, lip curling in disgust. "Don't even mention Umbridge."

"Umbridge?" Sam asked curiously around a mouthful of lasagne.

"And that is a story for another time," she told him with a small giggle. It felt good to laugh about it after all these years. Hermione shrugged as she speared a piece of lasagne with her fork, humming in satisfaction at the taste as she slowly chewed it. She didn't get to take another bite however, as a loud pop rang through the room as Dobby appeared in the lounge room, mere feet from the dining table. Dean just about had a heart attack, jumping to his feet so quickly his chair crashed to the ground as he pulled his gun from where it was tucked into his pants, aiming it at the harmless house elf. Hermione stood, immediately moving so she was standing in the line of fire, her hand clutching her wand just to be safe.

"Dean," she said calmly, holding out a hand carefully as he shook, fingers inches from the trigger. "Dean, it's just Dobby. Remember? From all those years ago? At the mansion?"

She wasn't sure she understood his reaction. Sure, if she hadn't been used to the noise she probably would have jumped too, but Dean was shaking, a terrified look on his face, eyes wide with horror. He didn't move, staring at Hermione without actually seeing her. She knew he was clearly re-living something, and shuffled closer. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was showing signs of PTSD, but she knew him too well. He'd never really cracked before, so what had changed? She inched forwards, slowly and gently prying the gun from his hand. She quickly and efficiently disabled it, putting the pieces in the middle of the table.

"Dean?" she asked again, then he blinked and suddenly it was like nothing was wrong at all. A grin spread across his face and he chuckled.

"Man," he said, picking up his chair and collapsing into it, scooping up his fork with a smile. "That last case has me really jumpy, I guess."

Hermione frowned but let it slide, knowing he didn't like 'chick-flick' moments, or anything involving feelings. He was like Ron in that way.

She spun around, gazing down at Dobby with a welcoming smile. "Hello Dobby, is everything okay? Would you like some tea?"

"Dobby is fine, Hermione Singer. Many thanks for asking," he told her in his squeaky voice, glancing at Dean worriedly, floppy ears flattening back against his head. "Dobby was just summoned by Ginny and George Weasley, they asked Dobby to ask Hermione Singer and Harry Potter if they could come for a visit."

Hermione frowned, looking back and the boys at the table. She'd love to see her friends, but she already had company and didn't want to be rude. "It's fine," Sam spoke up, a happy smile on his lips and he chewed his mouthful of food, swallowing before continuing. "The more the merrier, right Dean?"

"Uh," the older brother paused, looking at a loss for what to say. He flinched and Hermione knew Sam had kicked him under the table. "Sure, why not?"

She smiled gratefully, moving back over to the table and taking a seat. "Would you please let them know we'd love to have them, and that the floo is open and ready for them?"

"It would be Dobby's pleasure," he squeaked, grinning brightly once more before disappearing with a loud pop.

"So who're Ginny and George?" Dean asked boldly, swallowing another mouthful of his dinner and leaning back in his chair, picking up his bottle by the neck and taking a healthy sip.

"Ron's brother and sister," Harry told him, waving his wand in the direction of the kitchen, the brothers watching in rapture as two more plates slid out of their cupboards, floating over to the table along with the appropriate cutlery. Hermione took one more bite of her food before getting to her feet, flicking her wand in the direction of the lounge and watching as all the pillows fluffed themselves and the magazines sprawled across the couch moved themselves into a neat pile.

"Ginny is Harry's ex," Hermione mentioned casually, and Harry frowned at her words, trying not to think about it. "But don't mention it."

"Hermione," Harry rolled his eyes at his dear friend. "It's been over ten years."

"And yet you're still so bitter," she tutted just before there was a burst of flames from the large fireplace and a pretty redhead appeared, stepping out of the mantle and moving immediately to hug Hermione just as there was another explosion, bringing someone with equally red hair with it. Hermione squeezed Ginny back before striding over to hug George, who gathered her up in his arms and pulled her from the ground in a bear hug. She laughed as he put her down, blinking up at his grinning face. Harry moved from the table to hug Ginny briefly and somewhat awkwardly before grabbing her older brother in a hug and clapping him twice on the back. "Ginny, George," Hermione greeted with a smile. "Lovely to see you." She turned around, stepping back towards the table and gesturing to the Winchester brothers politely. "This is Sam," the younger brother waved with a smile as his name was said, "and Dean Winchester. We go way back; old friends of the family."

Ginny stepped forwards with a grin, tugging her brother along and leaning over to shake the boy's hands. "Nice to meet you, I'm Ginny," she said with a dazzling smile, sliding into the seat beside Sam.

"George," her brother said, copying the action and sitting down beside Harry, opposite Hermione.

"Have you eaten yet? I made lasagne," she said. "It's nothing like your mother could make, but the boys seem to tolerate it," she joked lightly.

"That'd be brilliant, actually," George told her with a carefree grin, and she flicked her wand at the dish, two slices of the meal floating off the counter and sliding onto their plates.

"So what brings you here so late?" Harry asked, glancing down at his watch. "It has to be nearly midnight back in England."

"Unfortunately it's less of a social call than we'd like," Ginny said, mouth full of food. She seemed to catch on that she was being unladylike and picked up her napkin, dabbing at her lips to cover it up. Once she'd swallowed, she continued, "we didn't know you'd have...company."

"Is it about the owl your father sent me last week?" Harry questioned curiously. Hermione knew the one he meant. Though the magical world and the supernatural world were for the most part, kept separate. Sometimes – Dean and Hermione, as an example – they bled into each other. Occasionally witches and wizards would become hunters, a wendigo would make its way into a wizarding village, or a demon would possess a wizard (that last one was one of the worst instances of this world bleeding. A demon with all the powers of a wizard? Hell on earth would become a frighteningly real possibility).

Recently, anyone involved in the supernatural world, particularly those in positions of great knowledge and power – such as those at the ministry – had noticed a severe increase in demonic activity. Harry, Hermione and the brothers knew the cause of course, though most people were still kept in the dark, Ginny and George being some of them.

Their dad had written to Harry, asking if things were as bad in America as they were in Britain. Harry hadn't yet responded, the letter was still sitting in the study, being constantly re-read as the man figured out how to respond. Truth was, he just didn't know what to tell him. That a young hunter named Dean Winchester was pulled from hell by an angel, and now demons were trying to raise Lucifer? He'd spent most of his teenage years being told he was mental, he wasn't sure he wanted a repeat of that experience.

Back at the dining table, Ginny and George nodded, eyeing the brothers cautiously as they ate their food. "The boy's are hunters," Hermione told them. "They know everything. You don't have to worry about exposure."

The Weasley siblings noticeably relaxed at her words. "You haven't responded to dad's owl, Harry," Ginny said, blinking up at him with those expressive eyes of hers. "He was getting worried."

"Tell him I'm sorry," the man-who-conquered replied quietly, poking at a slice of pasta on his plate. "I just haven't gotten around to it yet." George nodded, continuing to shovel food into his mouth at an alarming pace. Ginny wasn't so easily fooled, she narrowed her eyes at him, opening her mouth to question him further. Before she could say anything she caught Hermione's eye, and the older brunette witch shook her head slightly. Ginny blinked, turning back to her food and thankfully keeping her mouth shut. "So how're things back home? Your dad said demon activity's gone through the roof recently."

"Yeah, it's been terrible," George nodded, smirking at Hermione as he snatched up her butterbeer and took a sip. "Still, better demons than death eaters."

Everyone who wasn't a Winchester nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. The brothers exchanged frowns, not quite following their logic but not willing to speak out against it.

Everyone seemed to silently decide to put the serious talk on the back-burner, the mood lightening considerably after that. "Did I tell you I got Weird Sister tickets?" Ginny asked once Hermione had gathered up the plates and deposited them in the sink, charming them to begin cleaning themselves.

"Really?" she asked, gathering more beers from the fridge and handing half off to the redhead as they moved back to the lounge where the boys were all seated around the fire, George staring at the television with wide eyes, enraptured by the game of baseball being shown on the screen.

"Yeah," she nodded as she handed out her share of the drinks, taking a seat on the love seat in the corner beside Hermione. "I'm going with Jason Lancaster."

"Lancaster," she muttered thoughtfully, taking a sip of the sweet drink. "Isn't he the new beater for the Harpies?" she asked her friend, the now-famous quidditch star. Ginny nodded with a large grin, leaning back in the chair.

George yawned from where he was perched in an armchair on the opposite side of the room, and mumbled, "can we maybe get down to business? I have work in a few hours and I need at least a couple hours of sleep."

Ginny rolled her eyes but nodded, and Hermione flicked her wand at the television, watching as it turned itself off. "Alright, well you know how Scrimgeour has been tracking supernatural activity more closely, working with international ministries to keep an eye on things?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, leaning forward in his seat. "We owl every few months, he likes to keep me in the loop."

Sam and Dean watched the conversation closely, though most of what was said went over their heads. "Well, he found something," George told them, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and focusing on the conversation. "He's caught wind of a wizarding cult in Alabama, lead by an ex-death eater."

"And?" Harry prompted when he didn't say anything further.

"And we have reason to believe it's been infiltrated by demons."

Harry and Hermione paused, glancing at each other for reassurance. "Why doesn't the American Ministry do something about it?" she asked the older boy, shuffling to the edge of her seat.

"Things between the Ministries aren't going too well," Ginny admitted, twisting her hands together anxiously in front of her. "Dad's been complaining about the International Affairs department for months now, and things are only getting worse."

"So Scrimgeour came to us?"

"He said he needed someone he could trust," George said with a smile that seemed more forced than natural. "Who better to trust than 'The Chosen One'?" He moved, digging into the pocket of his robes and pulling out a letter that Hermione could very obviously see bore the Ministry's official seal. "He wanted me to give you this. Said nobody was to read it but you," he told him with a smirk. "Though of course Ginny and I know you'll let your dear old friends take a peak."

Harry's lips twitched as he carefully peeled open the envelope.

"So, a cult of wizards possessed by demons," Dean spoke up, leaning back against the couch and crossing his arms, looking at the red haired siblings skeptically. Ginny shrugged, nodding her head. She had a remarkable talent for taking things in her stride, rarely showing how things fazed her at all. "Who's this Scrimgeour anyway?"

"Minister of Magic in Britain," Hermione answered absently as she took the letter from Harry's outstretched hand, letting her eyes drip down the parchment like water.

It wasn't an overly detailed letter, just a few short lines about the whereabouts of this supposed cult, how he'd come to hear of it, why he believed it had been infiltrated by demons and why he wanted them to look into it for him. Hermione looked up, catching Harry's eye for a brief moment before handing the parchment off to Ginny.

"You guys up for a little trip tomorrow?" she asked the brothers with a little smile.

Ginny handed the letter off to Dean – George pouting theatrically as he was skipped – who skimmed it quickly, passing it to Sam. "A cult of demon-wizards?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "Piece of cake."