A/N: Ok so the timeline for this is kinda AU, but the rest is cannon. I made it that Sam and Dean were born 20 years earlier that cannon (so Dean was born in 1959 and Sam in 1963) and the Marauders were born 14 years later, in 1974. This story is set in 1989, so Dean would be 30 years old, Sam is 26, and the Marauders are all 15, because it's the end of their fourth year. I was inspired by the episode in season 6, "Weekend at Bobby's" where they hunt for Crowley's bones in a place that could theoretically be near Hogwarts. But I'm using the boys as they were in season 4, so smack in the middle of the apocalypse, and with all the pain that came with it. So if you're wondering why they're in the Scottish Highlands, that's why. Rated M because I'm writing the boys with the language they actually use. Also please review because I wasn't sure about posting this and I would love to hear what people think :)

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Sam and Dean collapsed into two bar stools in the packed, ancient looking, dimly lit pub. The room was filled with chatter from people with heavy accents, and the dark wooden floor was covered in scuffs, spit, and cigarette butts. For the Winchesters, this was practically home.

Sam signalled to the bartender, a pretty brunette in her late twenties with curly hair, heavy eyeliner, and a busty tube top. "Two beers, please," he yelled, flashing a grin

"What type?"

"Whatever's strong." Sam replied, glancing at his brother. Dean had been smart enough not to try to smuggle anything through customs, and they had started traveling to the Scottish Highlands as soon as they stepped off the plane. Now having gone more than three days without a drink, Dean was spacing off more and sleeping less. Sam knew that alcohol wasn't a decent excuse for a support system and that he should be trying harder to get Dean to talk about Hell. But, considering that he had taken to drinking demon blood while fucking Ruby in the same motel rooms he used to share with his brother, he wasn't one to talk.

"Y'know Sammy, we're in Scotland. We should really be sipping on some good, strong scotch," Dean said, slapping the bar with two hands.

Sam snickered. Dean in a grimy bar was like a pig in mud. "Dean, you don't sip on anything, and the phony cards aren't that reliable overseas." he responded as the bartender placed their beers in front of them

Dean took a long gulp from his glass, and wiped away the foam from his upper lip. "Now that's the good stuff," he exclaimed, his grin growing even larger still.

The boys drank through their second and third pints, remaining lighthearted and cheery, until suddenly, Dean's brows furrowed. Sam instantly feared that Dean's favorite numbing agent had dredged up a bad memory, "Dean are y-"

"Shhhh,"

He realized his older brother wasn't lost in his head, but was rather trying to get into someone else's. He was focusing hard on listening to the conversation happening next to them between two men swaying on their stools. With a large grin, he swiveled around in his stool to face the two older men. Sam shook his head. He would never understand how news of a case could make Dean so happy. Most people run away from the paranormal- unless you're a Winchester; then you rush forward with arms open.

"Excuse me, sirs," Dean started in an overly posh manner. Sam bit back laughter. Give Dean a couple of beers in a foreign country and suddenly he thinks he's cultured. "What were you saying about this 'Most Haunted House in Britain'?"

The two men exchanged drunken, impish, looks, before the one furthest from Dean took the last sip of his drink, smiled a grin with crooked front teeth, and began to speak. "I was on the train to visit my sister in the Highlands when I saw dis man reading a magazine- funny man too. He 'as wearing dis bright green cloak and laughing- really really laughing. So I looked over at dis magazine of 'is and I could've sworn I saw a picture move. So af'er a few minutes he quits laughing and gets dis very puzzled look on 'is face and I ask 'im what e's reading and he starts going on about this town Hogsmeade as if 'e expects me to know where it is. I've never even 'eard of the place, and I go up to my sister a lot." The man leaned closer, and lowered his voice, causing Dean to nearly topple off his seat to catch the man's words. "And then 'e starts talking about this building 'e called the Shrieking Shack and 'ow the locals are terrified of it. Fink there are ghosts in it or somefink. And the way 'e was talkink about it I thought he 'as really scared. At first I thought 'e was high on somethink but he was real proper about the whole think. So I got 'ome and I looked it up and ere's the weird thing; first I checked dis old map of mine from my pa and it said that there was a town in the Highlands called Hogsmead, just 'ike he said. I was so shocked I actually double checked, and according to a map I got last year, the area's been abandoned and desolate since the 1600s. You 'ear a lot of wierd stories but the 'ay 'e was talking 'e sounded real terrified. Wish I could go up there and see dis building for myself but I can't find any public transport up there and I don't drive."

Dean's eyes sparkled in the darkness of the room as the mysterious man tipped his beer back, searching for any last drops. He pulled a tourists map out of his pocket and laid it on the table, "Would you mind circling where this town is supposed to be?"