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It was the day before he, Sam, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasley children were off to Hogwarts, so Mrs. Weasley had gone to a place called Diagon Alley to pick up the school supplies everyone needed, and had prepared a big farewell dinner, which was also a congratulatory dinner for Hermione and Ron, because they had both been selected to be school prefects.

The basement had been decorated with banners that said “CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE- NEW PREFECTS” and Mrs. Weasley was laying full dishes out on the wooden table.

Almost the whole gang from the first day was there- Mad-Eye Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, Remus Lupin, the Weasley family, Harry, Sirius, and Hermione- everyone except Dumbledore and the butt-hole called Snape.

As Dean and Sam went down the stairs, Dean noticed that pink-haired Tonks fumbled with a stack of ceramic plates, and Dean reached out and caught her just before the plates toppled from her hands. “Thank you, Dean!” she gasped breathlessly. “I would have Banished them to the table, but I wasn’t sure I could make them re-appear without chipping them… I’m kind of a klutz…”

Dean had no idea what Banished meant, but he got the gist that it was something to do with magic. He nodded like he understood anyway. “’It’s no problem.” he assured her.

She sighed, relieved, as she placed down the plates. “So, are you excited about going to Hogwarts?”

Dean shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Doesn’t make a difference to me. Do you go there- ‘cause it’ll make a difference then…”

Dean knew she liked him when she laughed. “You’re adorable, Dean. No I graduated about… six years ago?”

He raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. Tonks looked about his age, but she had to be at least twenty-three or twenty-four. So he told her.

She grinned again. “I can look however I want, Dean,” she explained. Suddenly, Tonks’ face began to change. He watched, halfway between horror and fascination as she turned into somebody who looked very much like Ginny.

“You’re a shape-shifter?” he gasped, wishing he had checked his new weapons for silver bullets. But she couldn’t have been a shape-shifter like the ones he’d seen. She transformed quickly, gracefully, extremely unlike the normal shifters that tore their skin off.

“We magical folk prefer the term, ‘Metamorphamagus’. But yes, I guess you could say I’m a shape-shifter.”

“Wow.” Dean said, scratching his head. “I’ve actually never met a chick shape- I mean Metamorpha-whatever, before… so you can change your body into whatever you want it to look like?” he asked, suggestively.

She smirked, and slowly she morphed into a taller woman with curves in all the right places. Long, golden, wavy locks tumbled down to her mid-drift and her eyes were a deep blue. “Or whatever you want it to look like…” she whispered.

Dean’s eyes widened and he had to gulp before he could choke out, “Kinky…”

Tonks giggled again, and transformed back into her normal pink, spiky haired self- though Dean noticed with satisfaction, that she might have left a little more curviness from the blonde’s body on her. When she walked away, Dean noticed it more- and he grinned. Tonks may have been a klutz, but she was a fun girl…


Sam quickly slinked away from the flirting Dean and Tonks, and made his way over toward Ron, who was fiddling gloomily with his new Prefect badge.

“Hey,” Sam greeted, sitting beside the youngest Weasley boy. Ron looked up at him and nodded in acknowledgement. Well, so much for stimulating conversation… thought Sam.

“So because you’re a prefect, does that mean you’re at the top of your class?” Sam asked, hoping for a response.

Ron frowned. “Well, no, not really…” he admitted. “I mean, Hermione’s definitely at the top of our class, but I thought…”

“Thought what?” Sam pressed. Ron had definitely not been as open and welcoming as the rest of the inhabitants of Grimmuald Place. Maybe the boy would finally open up to him.

“It’s nothing. It’s just-” Ron lowered his voice. “Harry’s my best mate, we’re closer than brothers. And I don’t know why I’m telling you this and if you tell anyone I swear-”

“I’m pretty practiced at keeping secrets,” Sam admitted.

Ron seemed satisfied with his answer. “It’s just- I’ve always been jealous of him. He’s on the Quidditch team, he’s famous, and he’s definitely smarter. He’s also Dumbledore’s favorite student- and yet I got chosen to be Prefect. How is that possible?”

Sam was surprised. He and Ron were living similar scenarios. “You think it’s a fluke? You think you getting picked for Prefect was a mistake?”

Ron shrugged. “I guess…”

Sam shook his head. “I can’t say I know much about this particular instance, but I know for sure that you’re being too hard on yourself. Dumbledore obviously saw something in you that Harry doesn’t have. I don’t wanna get all emotional on you or anything,” he said laughing. “But you’re not Harry, and you don’t have to be like him and you’re not gonna be treated like him. And maybe in some cases that’s a good thing.”

Sam and Ron continued to talk for the rest of the evening. They both had a lot in common. And Sam finally decided that night that maybe it was time to follow his own advice.


Dean had to pee. He’d drank one too many of these amazing drinks called ‘Butterbeers’, and although they contained no real beer, they were addicting just the same; which is why he had to pee.

He hurried up the stairs and almost turned to the bathroom when he heard an odd familiar sound. Somebody was crying.

Dean stopped short and turned. “Hello?” he called in a loud whisper. Nobody answered, and the crying continued. Dean pulled the .45 from his jeans and with a quick expertise loaded it with salt rounds. He tiptoed toward the sound and peeked in through the door where the pitiful noise came from.

Mrs. Weasley was backed up against the wall, tears streaming down her red grief-stricken face. Her wand was pointed at a body on the ground- it was her red-headed son, Ron.

Dean burst through the door, sending old paint-chips flying, and aimed the gun at her. She killed her son, she killed her son. She killed her son?

The woman yelped in surprise at Dean.

“What the hell did you do?” he bellowed at her.

She sniffed and let out another choked sob. “Oh, oh,” she gasped.

There was a loud resounding CRACK, which was not unlike a gunshot, and Dean looked down at the body, which had changed into a different, older boy.

Mrs. Weasley dropped her wand and fell to her knees. “Bill!” she cried.

CRACK. The body changed into a dead Mr. Weasley. CRACK. The body was dead Ginny. CRACK. The body was dead Harry.

Two and two clicked in Dean’s head: this was a supernatural creature he was familiar with- it was a Boggart…

“Mrs. Weasley, stand back!” Dean ordered.

Mrs. Weasley obeyed, and Dean stepped up to face the monster. He knew it would turn into his worst fear, and he was well aware of what that fear was, but when it appeared he wasn’t ready for it.

CRACK. The long lanky form of Sammy lay sprawled on his back, collapsed on the ground. He was bleeding from the chest, he was choking, gasping, dying- “Dean…” the dying Sam said, lifting a bloodied hand toward his brother. “Dean this is all your fault…”

Dean’s breath hitched in his throat. He’d seen this fear played out in his head a thousand times in nightmares, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Boggart-Sam’s eyes flashed a demonic black. “Sammy’s dead!” it jeered. “And it’s all your fault!” it laughed manically, a harsh, cold, evil laugh. That’s when Dean shot it three times with his gun. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM!

The salt rounds left a layer of white powder hovering in the air. When it finally cleared, the Boggart was gone.

Dean let out a deep breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, and turned to see Mrs. Weasley gaping at him.

Dean heard furious pounding on the stairs and then Lupin, Moody, Sirius and Harry ran through the open door. “What’s going on here?” Lupin panted.

“It’s ok,” Dean explained, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off.

“It was the Boggart, Remus.” She explained. “The one Mad-Eye told me was up here. I thought I could handle it on my own, b-but, b-but…”

Suddenly Mrs. Weasley began sobbing again, and she chose to cry on the nearest shoulder- which just so happened to be Dean’s. She buried her tear-stained face in his arm, and he stood there, shell-shocked, not sure as to what to do.

“I see them dead all time!” she moaned. “Even when I dream!”

Dean patted her awkwardly on the back. Women usually didn’t cry on him…

“And then, then Dean came,” Mrs. Weasley’s sob’s were slowing down. “And he took on the Boggart himself. Without a wand…” she realized she was making Dean uncomfortable, moved away, and then looked up at the oldest Winchester with admiration. “I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn’t been for you- thank you, Dean,”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Weasley,” he told her, trying to smile, but he, like her was still shaken.

She knew his worst fear now, and she could see the hurt lingering in his eyes. “How about you and I make a cup of tea? Or coffee, rather?” she suggested, beaming up and him while wiping the wet from her eyes.

Dean nodded. “I’d like that.”

For the rest of the night, Dean was doted on by Mrs. Weasley, like a son.

Sam had been restless into the early hours of the morning; he was really going back to school. Albeit- it was a magical wizarding school, but school was school. He was excited and nervous and- dare he say it- happy. Sure, he and his brother were on another hunt to exorcise a demon, but until that time came, Sam felt like he was at the beginning of some really great adventure.

Deciding to give up on attempting sleep, he had showered, shaved, packed, and dressed before Dean had even gotten up. Sam heard some hurried noises from downstairs and figured it was time his brother got up. “Dean,” he called. “Wake up.” He was ridiculous to think just a simple command would awaken him. He went to his bedside and poked Dean in the arm- which he instantly regretted.

Still half asleep, Dean grabbed Sam’s long arm, and used Sam’s own unbalanced momentum against him to flip him up in the air and over and around Dean, so that he landed on the floor on the other side of the bed. A gleaming silver dagger was immediately pressed against Sam’s exposed jaw line.

“Man, you are SLOW in the morning,” Dean observed hoarsely, putting away the weapon and extended a hand to his younger panting brother.

Sam gasped, “What the hell was that for?!” and batted Dean’s hand away, getting up on his own, feeling awkward and defeated.

Dean quirked an eyebrow at him, “You should know better than to poke an amazing specimen such as myself in the morning.” Dean smirked and lay back down on his bed. “Besides, you obviously need the practice. You’re getting sloppy…”

“Very funny,” Sam grumbled. “You’re a riot. Now will you PLEASE get up so we don’t make everybody else late?”

“I AM up…” Dean lied, face muffled in his fluffy pillow.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine, Dean. Whatever, I tried” He left Dean in the bedroom and was abruptly met by Ginny in the hallway. His face went red as he remembered the previous morning when they had met here.

“Morning, Sam,” she said, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

Maybe she had forgotten about the towel incident…

“I see you’ve decided to wear clothes this morning.” She observed, smiling playfully.

Or not.

Sam laughed. “Yeah, I figured showing up naked on my first day at Hogwarts wouldn’t make the greatest impression…”

Ginny laughed as they started down the stairs. “You never know. You’d probably start a new trend…”

Sam opened his mouth to make a snappy retort, when he heard two voices from behind him bellow, “LOOK OUT!!!”

A whole life of instinct kicked Sam’s body into defense mode. He didn’t even need to see the two huge trunks flying at him and Ginny as they somehow sped down the stairs. He grabbed Ginny by her waist and quickly pinned her against the stairway wall, pressing his long body up against her to shield her from harms way. The big brown trunks blew past them, skimming the back of Sam’s head. It was only when he heard the ‘THUMP THUMP’ of the two trunks landing at the bottom, did he realize he was on top of Ginny, his arms on either side of her, and his face only half an inch away from her lips. Her eyes were locked onto his. They were both breathing heavily, hearts racing from the sudden rush of adrenaline, and their closeness.

Coming to his senses, Sam pulled himself from her (with some reluctance) and turned to the top of the stairwell.

The twins Fred and George sprinted toward the stairs. “Merlin! Are you two all right?” Fred exclaimed.

“We swear we didn’t mean to, we didn’t know anyone was walking down!” George admitted, looking extremely apologetic.

“We’re fine I think,” Sam explained, glancing over at Ginny, who was red faced and seemed like she was lost in a daze. She shook herself slightly, and glared up at her brothers, hands on her hips.

“What the hell was that?!” she shrieked, her red hair like an angry fire framing her face. “Are you trying to get me and Sam killed?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gin,” George said. “If we were trying to kill you, it’d be in a way far more exciting than this-”

“That was brilliant, though, Sam,” Fred laughed. “Saving yourself and the damsel in distress in only a moment’s time- amazing, mate. You’ve got to teach us-”

Ginny huffed, “I am NOT a damsel in distress!”

Mrs. Weasley came up from the kitchen. “What’s all the commotion about?” she called up, softly.

Ginny grinned devilishly up at Fred and George, whose eyes were pleading with her. “Nothing, Mum,” she said quickly, and Fred and George relaxed momentarily. “Just Fred and George bewitching their trunks to murder me and Sam…”

The twins recoiled early, ready for their mother’s explosion. “WHAT?!” Mrs. Weasley shrilled.

Sam flinched as well, as Mrs. Black’s portrait and Mrs. Weasley began to scream at the top of their lungs.





Ginny continued to go down the stairs, without a care in the world. “Want some breakfast, Sam?” she asked, smiling angelically.

Sam raised his eyebrows, and smiled back. This girl was a handful…


Dean was dressed, showered, and ready to go only a few minutes after Sam had left the room. He was even half-way through cleaning their arsenal when Sam returned.

“How’s Ginny?” Dean asked Sam, beaming mischievously and proudly from behind his freshly polished machete. He had rushed out of his room earlier to see Sam save Ginny from being squashed by the twin’s trunks in the niche of time.

Sam’s cheeks burned. “Shut up,” he muttered, shoving a few things in his knapsack.

“Aw, c’mon, man. It’s nothing to get all upset about. It’s about freakin’ time you got some action!” Dean felt bad for Sam occasionally. It seemed that wherever they went, Dean always ended up getting the girl while Sam watched from the sidelines. He figured it was about time Sam got his game on.

Sam froze and stared at Dean incredulously. “Dean- I’m fifteen…”

Dean looked back at his brother for a long moment, and then scratched his neck absentmindedly, figuring it best to not tell Sam when he had lost his virginity…

“I didn’t exactly mean it like THAT, Sammy,” Dean murmured, recovering, “But if that’s what you have on your mind…”

Sam threw a rumpled up pair of smelly socks at Dean’s head, which Dean swatted at with his machete. “Dude- I’m holding a dangerous weapon here, and you’re throwing socks at me?”

“WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!” they heard Mrs. Weasley yell from downstairs.

Dean smiled at Sam, trying to hide his bubbling anxiety about the journey ahead. They both gathered their stuff in a hurry and hoisted their heavy trunks on their shoulders. “Ladies first,” said Dean to Sam, gesturing for him to exit the room first.

Five minutes later, they were all assembled in the foyer. Everyone was bunched together in separate groups. Dean and Sam, had of course, been assigned Harry’s group, along with Mrs. Weasley and a very shaggy black dog which sat obediently beside them both.

Dean saw Sam’s eyes brightened at the sight of the mutt, and extended a hand to pat it on the head. Dean knew his brother had always wanted a dog, and that was one of the many privileges the Winchesters could never obtain. The dog wagged its tail happily as Sam pet it, and stared up over at Dean, in a very un-dog-like-way wearing a very un-dog-like smile…

“What’s his name?” Sam asked, Harry, now stroking the dog’s shaggy ears.

Harry glanced down at it, and smirked. “Uh… it’s Padfoot…”

Dean frowned at the dog, in a bemused sort of way. Its eyes looked so human…

“Where’s Sirius?” Dean asked immediately, looking amongst everyone.

Everyone seemed to chuckle, like they shared some funny little secret.

“What?” Dean asked, “What’s so funny?”

Fred glanced over at the black dog and then back at Dean pointedly. “Let’s just say, Sirius isn’t himself today…”

Dean knew when to take a hint. He looked from Fred to the dog, to Harry to Sam to the dog. “You mean that..?”

In response, ‘Padfoot’ the dog barked and bounded over to Dean, and stuck out his bear-like paw toward him. Dean chuckled, took the paw in his hand and shook it. “What are you, Sirius? A Black Dog or Shape-shifter or something..?” Dean asked the transformed wizard in amazement.

“Sirius is an Animagus,” Harry answered, laughing at the dog as it bounded around the large group of people, happily.

Dean noticed Sam looking awkwardly at the dog. “Sorry I… um… pet you and everything…” he told Sirius the dog. Dean had to shove a knuckle in his mouth to keep himself from laughing; he imagined over and over again what it would have looked like if Sam was scratching the human Sirius behind the ears…

“Enough fooling around,” growled Moody, shuffling over to Dean. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at him.

Dean’s hand went to his jean waistband where his gun was concealed. “Whoa what did I do?” he asked the old man, hurriedly.

“Do you have a weapon shoved down your pants?!” Moody exclaimed. “I thought you two were experts! Anyone foolish enough to not even practice elementary weapon safety should not-”

“Mad-Eye,” Lupin warned, from the other side of the room.

Moody sighed. “Alright, alright, I’m just saying…” He observed Dean with both of his eyes, frowning. “I’m not going to hurt you, boy, just change you…”

Boy..? thought Dean, scowling. But he said nothing, because Moody’s tone reminded him of his father.

“What do you mean ‘change him’?” asked Hermione. Dean faintly noticed that her normally bushy hair was tamer today, and she might have been wearing a little makeup.

“How old are you, boy?” Moody asked Dean, ignoring Hermione’s curiosity.

“Nineteen.” Dean stated simply, hand still on the nub of his .45.

Moody grunted. “You look older. More like early twenties.”

Dean swelled with pride, until he saw that everyone else was frowning. “What?” he asked Sam.

“Hogwarts only goes until its seventh year, Dean. Like a senior in high school.” Sam explained. “No one’s going to believe you’re a student.”

“There’s a spell we could cast to make you look younger.” Moody continued.

Dean didn’t like the sound of that. “How much younger is ‘younger’?” he questioned reluctantly.

“Well the most obvious solution would be to use a potion to magically turn you fifteen or sixteen again-” Moody stated quickly.

Dean screamed, “HELL NO!” just as Sam burst out in hysterical laughter.

Moody’s eyes bored into Dean’s hard green glare. “Of course Dumbledore knew from your father that you’d be sorely set against that. I don’t see why you would be- it’s the most obvious way to stay close to and look after, Potter-”

Dean did not waver. “I will NOT be the same age as my brother.” He rumbled in a soft fierce voice, silencing Sam’s chuckles.

“How do you plan on protecting him then? You’d be separated all the time.” countered Moody. “Are your good looks more important than your job to protect everyone?”

“That’s not fair, Mad-Eye,” Harry cautioned. “Dean doesn’t have to stay with us at all times-”

“Can you not comprehend the seriousness of the situation?” Moody asked Harry, roughly, making Sirius growl and bear his teeth at the old grizzled wizard. “Your life is at stake here, Potter. This demonic business is nothing we’re familiar with. Do you really think Dumbledore would have hired these Winchesters if he had another choice? The Headmaster doesn’t even know how to deal with a threat this massive-”

“That’s enough, Alastor.” Mrs. Weasley said. “There must be a way to compromise this situation.”

Dean was glad he had made amends with Mrs. Weasley.

Moody frowned in almost a defeated sort of way, and Dean relaxed, taking his hand off his gun. Then without warning, Moody turned and flicked his wand at Dean, who didn’t have time to move as the strange magical jet of white light hit him.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed, rushing toward his brother, but Mad-Eye threw out his arm to hold him back. “Wait a moment, boy.” He said, with a hint of triumph.

Dean wasn’t sure what was happening. His scalp itched tremendously, and as he put a hand up to feel his head, he noticed with horror that the stubble on his jaw was gone. “Wha-?” he gasped, and sprinted upstairs to the bathroom.

In the bathroom, facing the mirror, he shouted every curse he knew. He definitely wasn’t fifteen like Sam, but he was obviously sixteen or seventeen. Dean had always looked older than he was, so he looked mature for a sixteen year old, but way too young to be nineteen… His hair was longer, not as long as Sam’s, but it had a similar shaggy shape to it, and there was not a trace of hair on his face, giving him a more boyish look. His jaw line was still sharp, but not as hard. With horror, he gave his body a once over, and was relieved to see that Mad-Eye Moody had not changed any part of his body further south than his face. It was the principle of the matter though- Moody had changed him without his consent, and Dean was royally pissed.

As he stared in the mirror, he heard Sam’s long strides bounding up the stairs behind him, but he took little notice. “Dean?” Sam asked, cautiously, as he closed the bathroom door. “Are you okay...?”

Dean put both hands on his face as he examined himself. No, no, no, no… “Am I okay?!” he gasped, furiously. “That bastard made me a dumbass kid again!” He turned to face Sam, who stared at him in shock.

“Déjà vu’…” Sam whispered.

“Very funny, Sam!” Dean shouted. He was losing it. He needed to calm down…

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it as a joke…” He scratched his head, thoughtfully. “Maybe this job will be easier this way, Dean,” Sam said softly, trying to reason with his now, only slightly, older brother.

Dean put his hands on either side of the sink, and leaned over it. “Did you know he was going to change me?” Dean asked, coldly, knowing if Sam had any part in this that he’d end him…

“No way!” Sam said without hesitation. “No one but Mad-Eye knew. Mrs. Weasley and Lupin are yelling at him now. Only he won’t change you back until the demon is exorcised…”

“Of course he won’t,” Dean yelped, letting out another stream of vulgar curses.

There was a knock on the door, and they heard Hermione ask, “Is everything alright?” in a hesitant, soft voice.

Dean massaged his now young face in his hands, hating everything about the situation. For some reason, he really didn’t want anybody, especially Hermione to see him younger. He sighed tremendously, “We’ll be right out…” he didn’t want to leave the bathroom, because he knew everyone wanted a good long look at him, but they were already running late.

He followed Sam out of the bathroom, not wanting to meet Hermione’s eyes. But when he did, he saw with some amusement, that she could not take her eyes off of him.

“Shall we, er, go then?” she gulped, hurrying down the flight of stairs.

Maybe being younger would have its perks…

Dean went down to the foyer, embarrassed by his reaction and by his face, but everyone insisted that they were extremely sorry and that the change wasn’t that drastic. He knew they were lying, but it made him feel a tiny bit better. He noticed that everyone’s luggage, along with Moody, had disappeared. But Dean promised himself that he’d get the deformed old bastard back somehow…

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