Chapter 10

12 Grimmauld Place, London

Dean didn't sleep a wink, which in hindsight made him even more grateful for the ultra-long nap he took on the flight over, no matter the hit to his pride. He'd pulled all-nighters on look-out before while exhausted, but it sucked, so he was glad his situation was more favorable this time. It wasn't strictly necessary, since he knew his dad was just on the other side of the hall, sleeping no more than he himself was, but strange situation combined with people he was wary of meant zero sleep for him. That teleporting thing the twins did right into their room hammered the final nail into the coffin of the concept of dozing off in the slightest tonight. He didn't really think the wizards would attempt to harm them, but he wouldn't put it past the guy with the wonky eye to do something sketchy.

There were no windows in the room to discern the light, but Sam had left his watch on the nightstand. It ticked on slowly, increasing the monotony of just sitting in the dark until his eyes were practically crossing and catching glimpses of the twilight zone between extreme boredom and brain-dead. He wanted to take a quick scope of this weird house, but he debated leaving Sam behind alone. Even with their dad on watch, anyone could just pop in.

He debated the idea for some time, before slipping off the bed and shaking off the stiffness. He made sure that Sam's dagger was well within reach if his little brother needed it, and then crept out of the room.

It was almost four in the morning, so it was almost completely dark. He inched along stealthily, and thankfully did not jump when a loud and unexpected snore from a portrait rang like a shotgun down the hallway. He had no plans of going too deeply into the house, but figuring out his way around would make him slightly more comfortable with this situation.

The second floor seemed to be mostly bedrooms and an upstairs sitting room, all of it uniformly dingy and smelling of mold. Dean left the third floor for now, and descended the stairs with wariness. He hadn't forgotten Mrs. Weasley's warning about wandering.

He found that, upon closer inspection and nothing else distracting him, that this place was a whole lot freakier than he had first thought. The stuffed heads of some pointy-eared, Yoda-like creatures mounted on the wall was enough to cement that opinion. Regular taxidermy creeped his cheese enough, but this was a whole new level on the what-the-Christ scale.

He drifted into the main sitting room, glancing around. He hadn't risked using any light before because of the portraits, but there were only two in this room, and both the frames were empty. Pulling his lighter from his pocket and giving it a few tries, the warm glow just barely reached the corners of the room. He kept to the edge, eyes wandering over the heirlooms and ancient books and ornate furniture, but never touching anything.

God, he was homesick already. Iffy motels, the Impala, and occasionally crashing at Bobby's or Pastor Jim's houses might not seem like much, but they were familiar, and they came with perks he couldn't imagine living without: the freedom, the exploration, an independence that kids with curfews and school nights could never understand. Here, in this house that practically looked designed to be haunted by more than a few disgruntled Caspers, surrounded by decrepit wealth and people that were different from him in almost every way, he felt boxed in and already longing for the open road again.

There had only ever been two reasons why he was in favor of coming here anyway. The demon problem was too big to ignore, for one, and for the other, he was just too sympathetic toward Harry Potter to turn his back. He might have been irrationally blaming the kid for dragging them into this situation, but as far as he knew, no one was reading his mind, so he felt entitled to that little catharsis.

This had better be worth it, Dean thought, distastefully examining some pretty Dark Magicky-looking objects contained within a glass cabinet.

A faint rustle just outside of the room had him spinning around, knife poised and ready in hand. Two bulbous, pale eyes winked at him from the doorway. They were attached to a shriveled little creature that closely resembled the decorations in the hall. At least, its head alone resembled them. The creature flinched away, rubbing its knobby hands together, while Dean contemplated whether or not to throw the knife. He paused, though, when the thing began muttering to itself.

"Oh, poor Mistress. As if Mudbloods and blood traitors weren't enough, now they bring the worst filth, lowly Muggles into her noble house, oh dear, oh dear…"

The rambling didn't end there as the thing skulked around the room, acting as if Dean wasn't even there. The teen stood in bewilderment. He knew full well this thing was insulting him with a very racist bent, which was a new and pretty unpleasant experience on its own. He made a note to himself to just punch all racist assholes in the face in the future, because goddamn did it rub him the wrong way. Yet, coming from such a strange little creature made the whole thing rather ridiculous, like he was being slandered by the world's ugliest hairless cat.

The thing was still going and actually seemed to be building up steam, so Dean decided that he'd explored enough to satisfy him for the present time. "Well, you just keep on keepin' on, Smeagol," he muttered as he ducked back into the hallway. He guessed the experience was a good enough way to keep him on guard in case they ran into actual wizards that shared that attitude. He couldn't say he was looking forward to it.

Ascending the stairs back to his room, Dean paused on the landing, his keen ears catching faint noises coming from the door closest to him. He moved closer, identifying the grunts and occasional whimper as the products of a nightmare. He had woken and comforted Sam from them enough times in the past to be familiar. It set off his protective instinct, but he wasn't about to barge in on whoever it was, so he continued on his way while wishing the dreamer good luck with it.

Sam was just as he'd left him, thankfully. Dean settled back in to wait for the morning, wondering what was in store for the day.

It wasn't long after his return when he heard a familiar knocking pattern on the door. His dad didn't waste any time once he'd opened the door. "Get Sam up," he whispered. "We need some things from our hotel room, and I'm not leaving you two here alone."

Dean nodded, shaking Sam up out deep sleep. They had slept in their clothes and had brought nothing else with them, so the Winchesters were free to slip downstairs and out of the house with no interruption.

It was chilly and misty outdoors, and the sun wasn't up yet. Dean burrowed deeper into his hand-me-down jacket and trudged behind his father with ingrained doggedness. Sam yawned loudly behind him, his voice sleepy as he spoke. "Why are we doing this so early?" he asked.

"Because I wouldn't put it past the wizards to insist on someone escorting us, and I'd prefer we have a place to go they don't know about," their dad replied. "There's also something else I wanted to check out. We'll do that first."

The three of them trekked out of the residential neighborhoods, the townhouses turning into shops, pubs, and metro stations. The sun was just beginning to peek over the skyline when their dad stopped in front of a small herb and tea shop.

"There," he said, pointing to the glass window front. "I thought I spotted it coming out here yesterday." In the four corners of the window, there was a small, curling symbol painted in gold. To most passersby it would seem just like decoration, but to the right people it meant that this store supplied hunters.

"This is good," John said as he scanned the dark interior of the store. "We'll need more anti-possession charms and hexbag supplies when we start teaching the wizards about demons, and we can get a few weapons without having to wait for Bobby to send ours." Dean liked the sound of that. He just didn't feel right without the comforting weight of ordinance at his back or tucked under his jacket.

"All right, now let's go grab our stuff and head back. We've got a lot to start on today."

When they made their return, laden with lore books and a change of clothes, the house sounded more awake. They could hear some movement down in the kitchen.

Their dad took the books. "Go eat and shower. I need to talk to Dumbledore again, but I want you ready to get lessons on this stuff organized when you're done."

"Got it," Dean said, waiting for their dad to disappear into the sitting room. He then shoved past Sam and took the stairs two at a time, determined to get to the shower first. He heard Sam growling insults on his heels, but he managed to whisk into the bathroom first with a triumphant laugh. His mood was killed quite thoroughly, though, when just as he was taking off his shirt and turning on the water, an incensed squawk nearly caused him to pitch into the tub. Another one of those goddamn portraits was hung on the wall, and a spindly, huffing old man was shuffling back out of the frame as quickly as he'd come.

"What the hell is wrong with these wizards?!" Dean hissed from behind the safety of the bath curtain. After that, he made sure the covering stayed firmly in place as he showered.

Both he and Sam entered the kitchen about half an hour later, cleaned and Sam still snickering a bit about Dean's encounter with the accidentally peeping portrait. Despite the tension of last night, they entered with better spirits.

The wizard teens were all there chattering around the table. Harry Potter's godfather and Mrs. Weasley were there also; the former seemed to be brooding over his breakfast while the latter was tidying up.

Ginny spotted them first, sending them an inviting smile. "Good morning, Sam. Dean." All heads in the room turned toward them.

There was a beat of silence before Mrs. Weasley waved them in. "Come in, dears. There's a little left of the first wave of breakfast." Dean perked up. He was starving. They sat at the end of the table, slightly separated from the rest as Mrs. Weasley prepared plates for them. "I hope you slept well," she said sincerely.

"Oh, yeah," Dean lied. No need to start things off weirdly today by being honest.

The eggs and potatoes set before them were delicious, and Dean and Sam's enthusiasm for them was probably what allowed them a little peace at the start. Curious stares were still turned their way, but it wasn't until they'd slowed their eating that Hermione spoke, unsurely but politely. "So, since it looks like you'll be here for a while, I just wanted to let you know that you can ask any of us about anything. The Wizarding world can be a little confusing at first, and we're more than willing to help if you need to know about something."

"Thanks," Sam said, and he seemed to be trying to thinking up something else to say. He was spared an awkward silence when the twins both scooted further down the bench toward the Winchester brothers.

"Now that all the hallos and such are done with, regale us with tales," one of them – Dean had already lost track of which was which – said dramatically. "Hunting down dangerous creatures sounds much more interesting than going to school."

Sirius unexpectedly let his thoughts be known. "We would all appreciate that," he said neutrally. "If you're going to be working with us, it would be helpful to know how hunters live and work."

Dean's eyes edged on narrowing. It might have been meant patronizingly, or done on purpose while their dad wasn't in the room, but an important thing here was to earn trust. This could well have been a good opportunity. He and Sam used their long-developed method of silent communication through looks and movement to come to an agreement.

Dean shrugged. "Lot of traveling. Lot of research to figure out what's doing what. We don't get paid," he admitted sunnily, forking up another mouthful of potatoes.

Sam, as was typical, favored more detail when he explained things. "We find hunts through the news most of the time, or some other hunter will tell us if something's going on. A lot of the things we hunt can only be killed in really specific ways, so we need to find out what it is first by interviewing people and figuring out the pattern of attacks, stuff like that. Then we find what we need and go get it."

"Sounds simple enough to me," Ron said, his brow furrowing. "You know, aside from actually getting the creature."

"Well…" Dean paused, wondering if he should admit this. Oh, what the hell, they were freaking wizards, they'd get it. "Most of the world doesn't believe in this stuff, so we can't exactly just walk up and say we're hunting monsters, unless we want to get thrown into the looney bin. So we mostly just gotta bullshit our way into everything: crime scenes, police files, people's houses."

Hermione's eyes had gotten rather wide. "So, to hunt things you break the law?" It looked like she hadn't expected that.

Dean snorted. "You have no idea. You should see our dad's fake ID collection: FBI, CDC, local police, news reporters. I really want to get a hold of our records one day, frame 'em or something."

Mrs. Weasley and Hermione looked as though they were struggling to digest that, but everyone else's interest seemed to have doubled. Even Sirius leaned a little closer.

Harry spoke up this time. He seemed a lot more relaxed than he had last night, and he seemed a lot friendlier for it. "Aside from demons, what do you hunt mostly?"

Sam and Dean shrugged in unison. "Too many to mention them all," Sam said. "Dad's been on hundreds of hunts at this point. Dean started when he was thirteen, and I've being doing it almost two years now.

"What's most memorable?" Ginny asked, chin in her hand and her eyes gleaming.

That wasn't exactly easy to pinpoint either. There were a lot of memorable hunts, but all too often they were memorable in a terrible way: gruesome deaths, close scrapes, people they couldn't save. Dean knew better than to answer with that, though. They weren't here to spill sob stories, they were supposed to get these people to trust their abilities. So he allowed himself a laugh and he nudged Sam. "Remember, like a year back? The cursed toilet?"

Sam's nose crinkled as the other kids chuckled. "That was disgusting."

Dean straightened, remembering another hunt that might have been terrifying at the time, but had only filled him with pride since. "Check it out," he said, pulling the collar of his shirt aside on a whim. Faint gasps and Mrs. Weasley paling slightly didn't deter him as he drew attention to a raised track of claw marks that ran over his right shoulder and clipped his neck. "Me and my dad were tracking a black dog through the woods back when I was fifteen. Turned out to be a whole pack of 'em, five of the things. The two of us took 'em all out on our own, and I got a badass scar out of the deal."

"Wicked," Ron said with wide eyes, looking caught between awe and probably wondering how much it must have hurt. It had hurt like an absolute bitch, but Dean elected to leave that part out.

They recounted a few other hunts like that, intense but safe for public disclosure. They talked about getting chased out of town a few times, about how they stopped a miniature zombie uprising in Louisiana, and about their first poltergeist. The former separation between the two groups shrank, people leaning in, asking questions, laughing. Even Sirius began to smile when he heard the story about the army of cursed Barbie dolls.

Mrs. Weasley, while still looking mightily unsure as they told stories about charging headfirst into danger, sat across the table and sipped tea. She shifted her cup on its saucer, her gaze thoughtful. "And what about you boys?"

"Huh?" Sam asked, vocalizing a shared confusion.

"Well, hearing about your job is fascinating, of course, but what about the two of you? Your interests, your schooling, your family."

Dean licked his lips, mind scrambling to distract and evade. He didn't mind sharing hunts with them. Anything else…

He gave another half-shrug. "Nothing much to tell. By night we're wandering outlaws, by day we're boring school kids. It's just been us and Dad as far back as I can remember, with a few of Dad's friends." This one was a much bigger lie than any before, but they'd be dragging more than that out of him over his dead body, and he didn't need to punch Sam under the table to get him to keep his mouth shut. "Well, since you know more about us now, what about you guys? I don't want to be jumping into this pool blind."

He knew he'd sold it when Hermione started talking about her experiences of coming into the world of magic and about Hogwarts. Even if he wasn't nuts about anything magic, Dean did have to admit that going to school in a castle with moving stairs, a giant squid in the lake, and secret passages sounded pretty awesome. Also, this world had dragons.

"Where the hell have those been hiding?!" he barked. "Figures we'd get stuck with the sewer-crawling creepies and you guys get dragons."

Sirius smirked. "While I agree that they're impressive animals, apparently they have nasty tempers and aren't something you'd want to run into."

"Still want to see one," Dean mumbled, and Sirius chuckled.

Sam had just begun to ask about something called Quidditch when they heard a throat cleared from the doorway. Dean winced when he realized it was his dad, and that both he and Sam had completely forgotten about the job he'd assigned them. He jumped up, Sam behind him. "Sorry, Dad. Got caught up talking," he explained.

John nodded, but Dean got the impression he was unhappy about something. "We need to talk," he told them. He departed the room with not another word.

Dean and Sam turned back apologetically. "Gotta go," Dean said unnecessarily.

"Is everything all right?" Mrs. Weasley asked. That slight hostility had returned with their father's brief appearance.

Sam was the one that snorted this time. "If something was wrong, we'd know. Thanks for breakfast, Mrs. Weasley."

"It's no bother, boys. It was a pleasure talking to you," she said kindly. They all bid similar and temporary goodbyes as Sam and Dean turned away and followed their father. He led them to the sitting room, where Dumbledore was waiting. John said nothing but a terse 'Explain.'

The old wizard turned toward the two curious teens. "Your father and I have been discussing our plans for this working relationship. He is not enthusiastic about my ideas, but I asked that I be allowed to talk with the both of you about it before we made any decisions."

"Sure," Dean said warily, wondering what could have gotten under his dad's skin. Sam allowed it as well, so Dumbledore proceeded to explain.

"I have been considering our best options since you agreed to come, and I believe it best that the three of you begin teaching the Order and the Hogwarts students what you know about demons before the school term begins. Once it has started, your father would go out and try to find out how exactly Lord Voldemort has allied with the demons, and how we might best strike back against this."

"Just Dad?" Dean asked, already resisting the idea. Dad was good, one of the best, but Dean wasn't going to let him go out alone against both evil wizards and a demon army without backup. They weren't going to be left behind again, were they?

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "However, that's not what he objects to."

"Then what?" Sam asked a little impatiently. Dean sympathized. He liked Dumbledore well enough, but the man could take forever to get to a point.

"What he dislikes, is that while he is out seeking the solution to the demon problem, I had hoped you boys would accompany the students to Hogwarts to continue teaching them and to defend the school from any threats that might come near."

Dean froze and Sam's eyes widened. Dean swallowed. He had been longing for a good solo hunt, one with challenge, and a chance to prove himself as a fully capable hunter. This, however, was a little bigger than he'd been hoping for.

For the first time in about three years, by Dean's count, he didn't know what to say.

Shit.

A/N: Merry Christmas to all my readers, and look, I actually managed to get this out on Christmas Eve like I'd hoped. It may not be perfect, because I don't have time to proofread, but I hope you enjoy this chapter nonetheless. To all of you who celebrate, have a wonderful holiday and God bless you :)

Thank you to everyone who has added this story to follows or favorites, and special thanks to Wanderstar, Alatar Maia, Goldenseal, Basia Orci, Missy Winchester, wittyasfck, JelloGirl323, Dream's Abyss, planetoffire, Mary Fiorentino, Luzith, Sammie669, and you guests for your reviews. I appreciate them greatly.