(4/20/2020) HAS ANYONE ELSE GONE COMPLETELY STIR CRAZY FROM SHELTER IN PLACE OR IS IT JUST ME?!

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Heedless of the Black matriarch's increasingly shrill imprecations, Dean ran up and then down the home shouting for either Tran. As Sam knelt to check on Sirius, Moody barked at Molly and Tonks, telling them to get the children away. Despite loud objections from said children the two women nodded quickly, and, along with Castiel, they managed to transport the younger ones back to the Burrow.

"He alive?" Moody growled as he stomped back up from the kitchen.

Sam nodded. "Big lump on the back of his head."

"BLOOD TRAITOR GOT WHAT HE DESERVED!" shrieked Mrs. Black. "FILTHY MUDBLOODS INVADING MY HOME—"

Worry pushed Sam's patience over the edge. He whirled on the portrait and shouted, "Just SHUT. UP!"

Miraculously, Walburga Black did just that. Moody lifted his eyebrows at the younger Winchester but withheld his curiosity amidst their current crisis. "Help me get him to the other room," the Auror growled.

Sam put his hands under Sirius' shoulders and dragged him from the hallway. He carefully deposited the wizard onto the bedding that had been laid on the floor as Moody thumped his way in. "Is it a spell?" Sam asked.

The other wizard snorted. "No. Good old fashioned whack to the temple."

Dean emerged from the hallway, breathless, a ripped piece of parchment in his hand. The lettering was blotched and hastily written, but it was definitely Kevin's neat, precise handwriting. "'Decided to take mom and hide'," read the elder brother. "'Sorry.' That stupid son of a bitch." He crumpled the note in his hand. "Let's go."

"Go?" Sam asked incredulously. "Go where?"

"To go look for the kid!"

"Dean," Sam sighed, "it was hard enough tracking him down stateside. Now he's got forty-four countries to lose himself in. We're not finding him until he wants to be found."

"So we're just givin' up?"

Sam held his hands out placatingly. The lilt of his brother's tone translated into nothing good. "I'm saying we've gotta figure out how first."

"Or," Moody said abruptly, "you leave it to the professionals."

"What?" a bewildered Dean asked.

"The Order has more Aurors than Nymphadora in our membership. We'll spread the word to look out for your young runaway."

"Yeah, but—"

"You questioning our competence, boy?"

Dean swallowed and dredged up a half-hearted smirk for the retired Auror. They were of a height, but the intense, unblinking stare of his whirling blue eye did much to emphasize Moody's tone. "Uh, no sir."

"Good. Enervate."

A flick of Moody's wand and Sirius was groaning awake. "What the bloody hell happened?" the wizard whispered as he struggled to sit up straight.

Disappointed at the man's apparent cluelessness regarding the events, Sam said, "We were hoping you could tell us. Found you out by your mom's painting. Kevin's gone, too."

Sirius shook his head. "No idea. One moment I'm heading to the kitchen, the next someone's bludgeoning me from behind."

As Dean began filling the man in on the current developments, Moody grabbed Sam's bicep and steered him to the other end of the room. "Walburga Black wouldn't have stopped her screeching for anyone but You-Know-Who himself. Mind telling me how youmanaged the feat?"

"It's… complicated."

"Aye, lad, I'm sure it is."

Moody folded his arms. Sam remained silent in the vain hope that his recalcitrance would make the wizard drop the query. When all the man did was continue to stare expectedly, the hunter sighed. "I was born to be Lucifer's true vessel. You know, the archangel? I guess there are some Pure-Bloods who tell stories about it."

"Hm. Might have heard a few. And that would make your brother…?"

"Michael's."

Moody stroked his chin, his expression inscrutable, before cracking open a harsh smile. "Good."

Astonished, Sam repeated, "'Good'?"

"Was just testing to see if you'd tell the truth. Dumbledore already told the Order what was known about you two boys, Arthur Ketch filled in the rest."

Sam's astonishment quickly melted into anger. "Then why the hell did you—"

"Needed to know I could trust you." The wizard tapped the whizzing eyeball on his left side. "This? This wasn't a Death Eater. This was a demon." Moody nodded at Sam's quiet gasp. "Was more than just bad wizards in the last war. Learned quick how to tell one from the other after that. It's why I wasn't sure about you, lad."

A chill ran through Sam's veins. "I don't… The demon blood doesn't affect me anymore."

"Maybe, maybe not. It pays to be constantly vigilant." Abruptly, Moody rapped Sam's chest with the point of his wand. "Doesn't mean I won't be watching you."

The threat was made as lighthearted as Moody was capable of being lighthearted, which was to say not very much. Sam understood the attempt and gave the former Auror a small smile. "No problem."

"Now!" Moody barked, jerking both Dean and Sirius' attention his way. "This is how it's going to go."

"How what is going to go?" Dean asked, confused and irritated by the man's authoritative tone.

"Finding this boy of yours. I'm going to tell you what to do, and you will follow my directions or I'll hex you so bad your future children will feel it." The ex-Auror thumped his walking cane on the floor. "I'll put my feelers out for your missing boy and inform you immediately if… when we find him. You're going to go on back to your home. Find something… normal to do, whatever that might be for you lot, so as not to tip the boy off to our intentions."

"Okay," Sam said, nodding. "And then?"

Moody's wand swished from one Winchester to the other. "You'll go back to Hogwarts. You'll get those children ready. You'll make sure as many of them as possible make it through the times we all know are coming. YOU!"

Sirius' entire body jerked at the exclamation thrown his way. He hadn't been prepared to be included in the conversation; in fact, he had been trying to figure out how to while the days away alone with only a deranged house-elf for company. "Yes?"

"You're going with them."

"I'm sorry?"

For the first time since the Winchesters had met Moody, the grizzled wizard softened. "I know what it's like to be sitting around trapped, knowing the dangers and wanting, but unable, to do something. You'll go with these boys, Sirius, and make yourself useful."

"But… But what about Harry?"

"You won't be doing Potter any good if you get sent back to Azkaban doing whatever harebrained notion you've got brewing to go and protect the boy!" roared the ex-Auror.

Sirius grit his teeth and glared balefully at the other wizard. "Very well."

"Come on," Sam said with as much cheer as he could muster. "At least our house doesn't have your mom."

"And we got beer," Dean added, then corrected himself, "I mean ale."

"Sounds like paradise," Sirius replied stonily. "I still don't understand what possible use you could have for me."

Sam brightened. "I think I know."

It was one week before the start of the next term, and the Winchesters (aided rather incompetently by Castiel) spent the time getting Sirius Black settled into the Men of Letters Bunker and acquainting him with modern technology. Their months at Hogwarts had shown that the British wizarding community preferred their antiquated ways. They'd had working, traditional wand-based alternatives to nearly everything and the use of Muggle devices was nearly anathema. After all, if a wizard was competent enough they shouldn't need to purchase such things. But if they were going to establish Sirius as their new purveyor of knowledge (in lieu of their missing Prophet) then he was at least going to have to get used to a phone.

The wizard accepted the talking device readily enough, but he was apprehensive of the computer. A device that could pull up knowledge after being given a few words? There had to be some sort of spell activating the thing. It didn't help that Castiel was aversive to the machine as well, and flat out told Sirius that he didn't trust it.

Eventually, however, they managed to set Sirius up rather nicely with his own room, a basic knowledge of how to Google something, and his own smartphone. Dean tried to push the man to learn how to operate a firearm, but that was where Sirius set his limit. His wand would do nicely, thank you very much.

In an effort to emphasize his point, the elder Winchester managed to coax Sirius into facing him off in a wand versus firearm duel (with Cass on the sideline in the case of an injury). It was the first time either brother had faced off against an adult wizard, and the difference between Sirius and their students was vast. After the man disarmed Dean twice, then Sam, then the both of them at the same time, the Winchesters conceded.

They wanted Sirius to follow them on some hunts, grooming him for a life on the road, but he was reluctant to leave the Bunker. There was no way they knew of to determine whether his notoriety had traveled to the American Auror Division. The wizard had no wish to repeat his stint in Azkaban with a parallel stay in whatever was utilized by the Magical Congress of the United States (which they learned was most often shortened to "MACUSA"). Instead, they set him up as their telephone-only liaison. The new position ended up being particularly useful on a hunt inolving a friendly witch and his incredibly, uncomfortably, intimate relationship with his familiar. Sirius recognized the after effects of an Imperius curse almost immediately and they were able to subdue the jealous antagonist without much difficultly.

They were also called in by their sometime ally Charlie Bradbury to solve a case with deeply personal connections for the young woman. It was Sirius' first real experience with a Muggle outside of the Winchesters. Despite Sam insisting Charlie was an atypical example, and thus utilized tools most others didn't, the wizard and the hacker ended up competing over what method was best for research: technology or good old fashioned book research. Neither came away with a victory.

The creature they ended up killing turned out to be an offshoot of the djinn, one that fed on nightmares rather than dreams. Afterwards, once Charlie had taken care of unfinished family business, they caught her up on their Hogwarts misadventures. She was incredibly intrigued and wrought one promise from the brothers to give her a tour of the facility and another from Sirius to teach her some wand wiggling.

Unfortunately, Sirius' decision to make the Men of Letters Bunker a new home came with an unfortunate caveat.

Sirius and Sam were researching a solution to Hogwarts' ubiquitous devil's trap one mid morning when from the kitchen Dean abruptly yelled, "GUYS? GET HERE NOW!"

The pair leapt to their feet and rushed over to find the elder brother pointing his gun at what appeared to be Dobby… if Dobby's features had melted like a wax candle. Not only that, but the excitable Hogwart's house-elf had never looked upon the Winchesters with abject loathing on his face. "Kreacher's found his master. Surrounded by mudbloods and Muggles like the traitor he is."

"This is Kreacher?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Unfortunately," Sirius replied, the dislike on his face mirroring his house-elf's. "Where have you been?"

Kreacher sketched a minuscule bow. "Doing my duty, master. Yes."

Dean stowed his gun behind his back. "Dude, is this thing gonna stay here, too?"

"Kreacher must stay with his master, yes. Despite how much of a filthy degenerate he is."

Sirius looked up helplessly at the brothers. "I deeply apologize."

"Great," Dean groused. "Is he gonna do anything other than call us names?"

"He's supposed to do proper house-elf jobs like cleaning and cooking, but since my dear old mother died he's gone off his rocker. Should just hand him clothes and be rid of him."

"Master cannot," Kreacher said darkly. "Master says Kreacher knows too much about his dreadful order. Mistress' house full of scum and mudbloods, family treasures being thrown with the garbage. No one listens to Kreacher. No one does what Kreacher says. Kreacher is only *Mistress*' faithful servant."

The house-elf continued muttering in the same vein. Remembering how piteously Hermione had painted the creature, Sam knelt down. "Hey, Kreacher?" he asked gently. When the elf turned towards him, he added, "Do you know who I am?"

"Mistress calls the tall Mudblood the vessel. Kreacher is honored to be in his presence." The bow the house-elf gave this time was far more genuine.

"Could I, as the vessel, ask you to please not call us those things?"

The three men remained silent while Kreacher processed the query. His face contorted into a variety of expressions, none of which were comprehendible to the humans in the room, before settling into confusion. In an awestruck tone, the house-elf whispered, "Kreacher has never been asked to do something before. Kreacher does not know how to respond."

Sam's brow furrowed in concern. "Maybe with a 'yes' or a 'no'?"

"Ah, yes. Kreacher sees. Yes. The vessel asks, so yes. Yes. I see, yes. Yes."

Still muttering "yes", the house-elf shuffled from the kitchen. Sam stood and looked reproachfully at Sirius. "You know, if you treated him with a little more respect, maybe he'd do the same."

Sirius sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Bloody hell, I know. It's just Kreacher is a reminder of everything I ran away from, everything that the Black family name is supposed to represent. Pure-bloods, Death Eaters, all the darkness stitched into our family tapestry."

"It's not his fault."

"I suppose not." The wizard sighed. "I'll try."

As the days went on, Sam realized that the more they treated Kreacher humanely, the less his outward loathing became. He even took up cleaning. Strangely enough, it was Castiel who ended up earning the house-elf's begrudging friendship. Upon learning that the angel was not another human, Mudblood or otherwise, Kreacher was less obsequious towards him. They struck up rather odd conversations concerning the strangeness of human customs, like shaking hands, and bonded over their unique, servile roles.

During one such conversation, a few days after Kreacher's arrival, Castiel dropped Naomi's name. Dean's appearance effectively soured Kreacher on being in the angel's company and the house-elf slunk away. Before Cass could do the same, Dean called Sam over and asked how their celestial friend had been rescued from Purgatory.

The fact that Naomi had spent who knew how long digging around Castiel's brain had both brothers incensed. Dean was up for summoning the bitch and gutting her immediately, but Sam thought it best to wait. She had aided them in the forest, although where her overall intentions lay was uncertain. In the meantime, the Winchesters insisted Cass stay in the Bunker until they could ferret out Kevin's location and the last trial.

Upon being told his godfather was now residing in America, Harry insisted on visiting. He was allowed to go a few times, but not enough to establish a permanent presence; the time zone difference was disorienting. With school around the corner, everyone (but Harry) decided it was best the boy keep primarily to Grimmauld Place. The day before term began, however, Harry got some unpleasant news that couldn't wait.

"Private lessons," Sirius echoed. "From Snivellus?"

"On Occlumency, yes."

The first book Sam had read in the Room of Requirement flashed through his head. "Occlumency is some kind of mind-reading technique?"

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore thinks I was spying on Voldemort through some sort of psychic link. He says it'll be good to learn how to fight against it."

"Dumbledore should be teaching you," Sirius growled, "not that snake."

"Dude," Dean interjected, "what is it with you and Snape? I mean, he's a dick, but this seems kinda personal."

"Later—"

The hunter folded his arms and glowered. "How 'bout now?"

Sirius drew himself up, a corner of his lip curled in distaste. "Severus Snape and I were classmates at Hogwarts. Let's just say we didn't get along."

"'Didn't get along'?" Harry repeated incredulously. "The Marauders hated him!"

At the Winchesters' querying looks, Sirius explained, "It's what me and my mates called ourselves. Got into a spot of trouble now and then. One of them was Harry's father, James."

"Snape hates you because of your father?" Sam asked, incredulous. On Harry's nod, the younger brother threw his hands up. "That's just stupid."

After several years of dealing with the professor's animosity, Harry merely shrugged. "I don't know what else to do. I can't have Voldemort rummaging around my brain."

"Wait," Dean said. "It's a wizard thing? Then why not have Sam go learn it and then he can teach you?"

Both Sirius and Harry brightened at the prospect. "It would solve the entire issue between them," said Sirius.

"But what about in the meantime?" Sam asked worriedly. "How is Harry going to be able to block the guy without training?"

"We'll figure it out," Harry replied hastily. The thought of escaping endless hours alone with Snape was just too wonderful a prospect to put aside.

"I can help." The group turned towards Castiel as he emerged from the hallway.

Dean frowned at the rumpled state of the angel's hair and clothes. "What happened to you?"

"Fell asleep."

The implications of such a normal-sounding event were troubling. Angels didn't need to sleep, or eat, or deal with any of the other mundane human needs. "Cass…" Dean began.

"My vessel is deteriorating. More of my Grace was required to fix it. I can monitor Harry's dreams, ensure there is no interference."

The adults were too busy trying to comprehend Castiel's two unrelated explanations, but Harry cheerfully replied, "Brilliant. See? Nothing to worry about."

"Guess we could try it for a few weeks," Sam conceded. "But if it doesn't work you're gonna have to take the lessons yourself."

"It'll be fine," Harry said with all the bravado he could muster. Hours alone with Snape. Hours.

"I'll check in with Dumbledore when we get back. Make sure this'll actually work."

"I'm uncertain how wise this is," the Headmaster said carefully.

"You mean it won't work?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I'm certain it will work. You and your brother have proven to be excellent teachers. I'm more concerned with the memories that might inadvertently be shared between Professor Snape and yourself."

If Dean hadn't been trying to mollify a deeply annoyed demon ("Weeks stuck in this fucking mausoleum. I should eviscerate all of you."), Sam would have had a more vigorous defense. Instead, he merely asked, "Do you really think Severus will overlook how much he hates Harry and his dad? You really think he won't use this as a chance to get some payback?"

Dumbledore peered over at Sam from above his half-moon spectacles. After a moment or two, the Headmaster merely sighed. "We will give it a chance. If it doesn't work, however, Harry will have to go himself."

"Awesome, thanks."

Which is how Sam Winchester found himself in Severus Snape's dreary, malodorous classroom the Monday evening after they'd returned to Hogwarts. So far no teaching had been done; Severus was bent on pushing his other intruder out via malicious glaring. "This sort of training requires a good deal of concentration. I hardly see what use you will be."

"Hey, I don't wanna be here either," Meg snarled, "but seeing as how I've tip-toed through Sam's little tulips once upon a time Dumbledork thought I might be helpful if the two of you flub up your Vulcan mind-meld."

"As long as you do not interfere, no matter what unpleasant side effects Professor Winchester might need to endure."

The demon's lip curled upwards in a smirk. "Sammy in pain? Music to my ears."

With Sam's nervousness now ratcheted up by the phrase, "unpleasant side effects," he couldn't help himself from snapping, "Shut up, Meg."

"If you please," Snape growled. Sam immediately gave the professor his full attention. "Protecting yourself from an occlumentic attack is primarily about resistance. I am told you have a strong will."

Sam nodded, but didn't elaborate. Vocalizing his harrowing experiences being possessed would only feed into his current anxiety. "Okay."

"Stand up. Now, withdraw your wand. I will be attempting to access your memories. It will be your job to keep me out."

"All right."

A moment of uneasy staring passed. Then Snape's wand moved as he cried, "Legilimens!"

Flashes of Sam's life flew across his eyes. He was six and no one would tell him why they had no mommy. He was ten and he felt cold cold cold and he thinks he sees a monster floating above him. He was twelve and firing a gun and the werewolf who looked like a normal woman collapsed onto the ground. He was eighteen and dad was saying not to come back. He was twenty-two and Jess was on the ceiling and she—

"NO!"

The world came into focus, as did the sharp pain in his knee. Sam curiously found himself on the floor, his legs twisted through the legs of the classroom stool. "Ow," he complained as Meg snickered down at him.

After disentangling himself, Sam got back to his feet. Across the cauldron desk Snape was rubbing his leg. "You used a Stinging Hex."

"Sorry."

The Potions Master glowered. "Let us try again."

"Okay," Sam replied irritably, "but could you maybe give me more instruction this time?"

"You waste time and energy trying to cast a spell! Use your mind."

"Open your mind, Quade," Meg intoned.

"Be silent, demon. Close your eyes. Empty your thoughts, your emotions."

It was hard to do as instructed when Sam could still feel the heat coming off of his ceiling and Dean's tight grip on his arm as he tried to pull his brother to safety. "I can't—"

"Either you will or you will fail! Legilimens!"

Ansen Weems jerks when Andy shoots him and Sam wants to scream because the yellow-eyed demon got his way. Becky is forcing him to drink something vile and he has a bare moment to feel violated before the doubts are swept away. The blood is on his tongue, so absolutely delicious, and the power flows through him, but when he turns around Dean is looking and Cass is judging from a little girl's eyes. Dogs snarl and Dean is on the floor screaming, bleeding, dying —

"PROTEGO!"

Snape jerked as his Legilimens spell was thrown back at him. Childhood misery, fears, and humiliation all surfaced as his memories were unintentionally shuffled through by the man before him. Reflexively, Severus shoved against the intrusion and ended up falling down down down into a hole, his hands still covered in his brother's blood, a presence ripping out from his body and telling him he was going to pay for what he had done…

And then the pain began.

He could feel his flesh being flayed, his bones being broken. He could hear his screams, the screams of another soul, the ear-splitting language of the trapped archangels. He could smell—

Well, now he could smell nothing. Severus had a bare moment to gasp for air and register the sharp stench of pickled slug before his head was plunged back into the container. When he was finally let up again, he cast a slew of curses that bounced off its target. "Nice," Meg commented as several jars around the room shattered.

"How dare you—"

The demon's eyes flicked to black. "Try it. Let's see who guts who first." She blinked her eyes back to normal and shifted her gaze to the ground. "Sammy, you alive?"

"Yep," answered the hunter from the floor. "Just give me a minute."

Severus fell heavily into a student stool. He palmed his face and found it wet with tears and sweat. "Merlin's beard," he murmured shakily. "What was that?"

Professor Winchester groaned as Meg helped him to his feet. "Hell."

"I realize the disturbing nature of the place, but where exactly?"

The demon and the hunter exchanged weary glances. "Hell," Sam repeated.

"I…" Snape recalled Dumbledore's revelation that Sam had once been the vessel of Dark Wizard lore. The potions professor had scoffed at the idea, but now? "Oh."

"Might as well get familiar with it," Meg said with a feral grin. "From what I hear you're joining our club soon as your ticket gets punched."

"Meg!" Sam snapped. "Don't listen to her," he told Severus. "Demons lie."

Snape stared at the two of them, uncertain whether he was more furious or frightened. He was, however, sure of one thing. "Professor Winchester."

"Yes?"

"This… creature will accompany you to all your sessions with me. Is that understood?"

"I… what? Are you sure?"

"Very."

"Sounds like oodles of fun," Meg drawled.

"We are done for tonight," Snape said definitively. "We will reconvene in one week's time. In the meantime, you must spent every night before sleep emptying yourself of emotions. Blank and calm. Understood?"

"Yes," Sam replied. "Um, thanks… Snape?"

Impulsively, the potions master said, "Severus will do."

"Then it's Sam for me, too."

They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with Meg smirking in the background. The demon and her ward left soon afterwards, leaving Snape the freedom to finally collapse in despair.

His head fell into his hands. Hell. He was possibly consigned to Hell. It wasn't as if Severus had had a real chance to be anything, not like Potter and his insufferable, well-to-do family. His childhood had been redolent of abuse and neglect, and his school-years fraught with bullying and shame. Who could blame him for cozying up to the Dark Lord when he was offered the chance for power and revenge? Now every moment of Severus' adulthood was saturated with regret, and his afterlife would be, perhaps, only what he was due.

But perhaps…

Perhaps there was some good he could do first. The Black matriarch was right: Sam Winchester was the vessel of yore. If the Dark Lord discovered this he'd undoubtedly be tempted to somehow fulfill the ancient prophecy and assure the ascendance of pure-blooded wizard-kind. The Muggles would be enslaved or exterminated, and the Half-bloods and Muggleborns slaughtered. Half-blooded himself, Severus knew his perceived loyalty would count for nothing if this all came to pass.

Misdirection. It would need to be all about misdirection. He grabbed the nearest scrap of parchment and a black quill from his desk. Little he could do from Hogwarts, so it would have to be someone on the outside.

"Past time you paid me back, Ketch," the Potions Master murmured to himself as he wrote. "You and your organization will do this or I will expose your duplicity to all the world."

Author's Note : I made up the term "occlumentic." It's a thing now, according to my brain.