Chapter Text
Dean Winchester had never been more terrified in his life. At fifteen years old, he liked to think that he'd had a lot of experiences to draw from, but none of them made his stomach twist and his palms sweat quite as much as they were doing now.
When his mother had died and his house had burned to cinders, he hadn't been scared, not really. His father had handed his baby brother to him and told him to get out and that's what he had done, carrying his precious burden to safety as fast as his little four year old legs could carry him.
When he had first learned that dark creatures really did exist, he might have been a bit concerned, but who wouldn't be when they found out that the shadows under the bed really could take their face off if given the right opportunity. His dad had taught him how to shoot a gun the very next day. He was six at the time, but being able to shatter six bottles dead center from ten meters with a revolver almost too big for him to handle the recoil... well, that made everything that goes bump in the night a little less terrifying.
When he had nearly gotten his brother killed by a Shtriga, he could have been terrified, but he was mostly angry. He was angry at himself for causing the situation, angry at his dad for using them as bait, angry at himself for leaving Sam alone, angry at his dad for leaving THEM alone... Yeah, there was a lot of anger, but really not as much terror.
When he was eleven and his whole world had changed, he was again deeply concerned. A letter had arrived for him, addressed not only to the motel they had been staying at, but even more specifically to the leftmost bed which he had claimed for his own use while their dad was out tracking down the ghoul nest that had brought them to town. Of course, he'd thought it was a joke. How could it not have been? Yes, there were plenty of monsters, werewolves, poltergeists, ghosts, demons, reapers, wraiths... and he believed in every single one of them... but, seriously, magic? He had torn the letter up.
But another one arrived the next day. He had doused it in salt and burned it. More letters came. He had been starting to think that he had run afoul of some sort of insane postal demon when an imposing woman with a tightly drawn bun and a Scottish accent had appeared on the doorstep and proceeded to transform his twelve-gauge pump action shotgun into a feather duster. He supposed she was within her rights, because he had been very quick to have it pointed straight at her face and if he'd had the power to do so, he might have reacted the same way. What followed was a very tense few hours with the imposing Scottish woman glaring at him from across the room where she sat in an uncomfortable motel chair while he faced her diligently from his seat on an uncomfortable motel bed with his brother safely behind him and his hand wrapped tightly around a rod of iron rebar that he kept for the rare occasions when ammo didn't seem like it would work. He had no doubt that the woman could have changed his rebar just as easily as she had changed his shotgun, but after being splashed full in the face with holy water, she had seemed to decide that his attempts at defending and repelling were only going to escalate and so they had declared a bit of a grudging truce while they sat waiting for John Winchester to return to break the stalemate.
So, again, not terrified, just very suspicious and determined not to allow any harm to come to his brother, Sam. Even after the explanation that magic DID in fact exist, and there were certain people who could actually make use of that power and that Dean himself was one of those people... well, it wasn't scary, just a bit distressing that he was being sent away to a boarding school across the world where he would be completely incapable of looking out for Sammy. He almost refused on principle, citing all of the responsibilities that he had to his family, that it was his job to watch Sammy and that he was the one who took care of their dad after really bad hunts; there were just too many reasons why he had to stay with his family... but then John Winchester had looked Dean dead in the eye and told him in no uncertain terms that taking that opportunity, that going to school and learning to use MAGIC, was the most important thing he could do to protect the family. He was to go to school, do his best, learn everything there was about killing every evil thing in the world, so that when he was home, he would be able to use that knowledge, that POWER, to help his dad hunt down the dark creatures that preyed on innocent people. After all, how much easier would it be to torch corpses if he didn't have to carry around lighter fluid with him?
He hadn't been scared to come to Hogwarts. Just determined. And he hadn't been scared at his own sorting, just terribly hyper aware of everyone and everything in the room. And he hadn't been scared of being sorted into Hufflepuff house, because really, who the HELL would be scared of anything named Hufflepuff? But sitting here at his house table, waiting for his little brother Sammy to be sorted...
Yeah, Dean was terrified out of his wits. His stomach was twisting and he had to remind himself to keep breathing. There was an uncomfortable banging in his chest that had to be his heart hammering out a crazy staccato rhythm that echoed with the painful pounding in his head.
For the first time in fifteen years, Dean Winchester was really, uncomfortably scared.
AND it just figured that as a Winchester, Sammy would be the last to be sorted, which meant that Dean had plenty of time to worry about all the ways that this moment was going to affect his brother's life. Or rather, his own, since he was bound and determined to make certain his brother was taken care of regardless of what house he ended up in. It was just a matter of how much looking out he would be forced to do.
Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat, turning his attention to the house that caused him the most concern. He had to strain his neck to see the Gryffindors across the room, loud, raucous, brash, CRAZY Gryffindors... The Sorting Hat liked to call them brave and noble, but they were the house that charged into EVERYTHING without thinking. On a hunt, that was the quickest way to get an entire hunting party killed. Every hunter that lasted longer than their first time out either knew going in, or learned very quickly and very painfully, that you didn't just storm in with guns blazing. You had to do the research. You had to gather the data and all the facts of the case and you had to know what it was that you were hunting so you could know for a certainty how exactly you were going to kill it.
One of the things that humans had over wizards -- Dean still couldn't bring himself to call anything a Muggle, out loud OR in his head -- was that they couldn't just wave a magic wand and expect it to solve all of their problems. Hunters needed to plan in order to survive and, from what he could see, no Gryffindor in the history of Hogwarts had ever heard of cause and consequence and therefore had never bothered to learn how to give consideration to their actions and so was never able to come up with anything resembling a working plan that didn't involve vast amounts of crazy stupid. In fact, the batch of Gryffindors that shared a year with him, the Marauders, tended to spend more time in detention than they did in class. Dean always thought that if they spent even half the amount of time developing their exit strategy as they did suffering the fallout, they would probably never be caught in the midst of their pranks in the first place.
Dean had never really had a problem with the Marauders. Hell, he laughed at their pranks just as much as anyone did and he had a grudging admiration for their tenacity... But the thought of his brother Sammy being in the same house... being influenced by them, maybe even looking up to them as examples of what and how to be.... THAT was a sickening thought. He chewed his lip as a new member of Gryffindor was welcomed to their table by the fifth year prefect, Remus Lupin.
Lupin wasn't a bad sort. It wouldn't be ideal, but if Sammy WAS sorted into Gryffindor, maybe Dean could have some words with Lupin and they could come to some sort of understanding. Lupin as an individual was calm and studious, rather quiet. Maybe it wouldn't be so terrible if he was keeping an eye on his little brother.
Ideally, Sam would be made a Hufflepuff and Dean could keep an eye on him himself, but he knew realistically that that wouldn't happen. Sammy just didn't have the temperament. There hadn't been a single hunt they'd been on together where Sammy had just done as he was told without asking question after question. He had never had Dean's philosophy of just shut up and do it. He never understood that if he would just quit complaining and do the work that was necessary, that it would get done that much faster. When Dad gave an order, Dean obeyed immediately. Sam always had to ask why, always had to argue... Yeah, there was no way that Sam would ever be a Hufflepuff.
As silly as the name had sounded, there were some qualities to the house that Dean couldn't deny having a fondness for; hard work, discipline, loyalty... The Sorting Hat had been quite adamant that he was a Hufflepuff regardless of his own self-image as a rebel with a 'give-em-hell' attitude. He didn't think of himself as particularly kind or caring, but he couldn't help noticing that when the younger 'Puffs needed a big brother, he was the one that they came to. Family was important to Dean and his House had become his family away from home. He always did his best to protect them from the shenanigans of the other Houses.
So, when he had begged to be a Gryffindor because he knew he was brave (seriously, how many other eleven year olds could stand their ground against a banshee?), the Sorting Hat had refused. When he'd countered by at least asking to be made a Slytherin, because he thought he was rather resourceful and could think his way out of tight situations, the Hat was simply not to be swayed. He didn't even try to make himself a case for Ravenclaw, so he had puffed out his chest and sauntered over to the Hufflepuff table as if he hadn't a care in the world. So what if it was a stupid name? Dean would still be the bravest and most damned cunning hunter at the table, regardless of the label.
Looking back on it now, it only galled him a little that the Sorting Hat had been right about him. And in all honesty, badgers could have some pretty nasty tempers, so maybe the image wasn't all that bad. Still, he had never, EVER told any of his human acquaintances that he was a Hufflepuff. As far as Dad knew, he was in the Badger Dorm and that was the end of it.
More names were called and Dean had to struggle not to tear his hair out. They had only just gotten to 'G' and he was not going to survive the stress if they didn't hurry up and get through it. He ran his hand through his spiky hair, not caring that it looked mussed and a bit bedraggled; his hair was supposed to look like that. It was edgy and rebellious, not like the neat and slicked back hair of the 'good kids' and definitely not the long, shaggy manes of the 'hipster kids'. Dean had his own style.
He huffed out a breath, almost amused by his own nervous anxiety and turned his attention to the Ravenclaw table.
Sammy would be a great Ravenclaw. He had been reading books far beyond his age level since before Dean could remember. He was smart as a whip and more educated than Dean could ever hope to be. Four years younger, and he was definitely the smart one in the family. If they hadn't been born into hunting, Dean could easily have imagined Sammy getting a full scholarship to Stanford or Yale, or any of the other Ivy Leaguers anywhere in the world. His baby brother was just that smart. He would definitely make a good Ravenclaw.
Ravenclaw wouldn't be a bad house for him, either. In fact, it was probably the best option. He didn't really know many of the Ravenclaws personally; they tended to keep to themselves and while none of them were really antagonistic, they didn't always understand Dean's sense of humor. Or about ninety percent of the things that he was interested in, for that matter.
Dean remembered having a conversation once with the new Ravenclaw prefect, a boy named Castiel Novak. He wasn't certain which of them had walked away more confused by the exchange. He couldn't remember what exactly the question had been, but when Castiel had responded that the answer could best be explained by a series of partial differential equations, Dean had quickly panicked and retreated to a safer corner of the castle. Still, he seemed like a decent guy and there was no denying that he was bright even if he did take everything that was said to him in its most literal sense. A simple 'Hey, how's your day going?' was likely to be answered with 'In a linear fashion, chronologically measured by the common standard of time.' Which didn't make him a bad guy, but if Dean was going to ask him to look out for his baby brother, he would have to be very careful with how he phrased the request.
Dean chewed on his lip, watching Novak at the next table over. There was something about him that was just fascinating and Dean couldn't help himself from staring every time the boy caught his attention. He was just so STILL. Every other person in the great hall was fidgeting and moving and engaging in some sort of motion, consciously or unconsciously, but Castiel Novak could sit still longer than any other human being that Dean had encountered. Both feet on floor, hands folded carefully in his lap, black hair mussed even more wildly than Dean's, almost as if he'd never seen a comb in his life, blue eyes wide and intense and focused and not even THEY were moving... Novak could stare at a person like it was a sport and he was the undefeated grand champion of the world. While Milton stared at the world around him, Dean found himself more times than not just watching Novak. It was a guilty pleasure. And if Sammy was in Ravenclaw, then Dean would have more opportunities to speak with the Ravenclaw prefect about things that weren't so complicatedly academic that Dean wanted to cry. It would be easier to strike up a conversation about how his brother was doing and go from there than it ever had been trying to casually ask about a book Novak was reading or an assignment for a class they shared. A simple conversation with Castiel Novak was something that he could look forward to.
Finally, FINALLY, Sammy was sitting on the chair with the Sorting Hat on his head and Dean was just allowing himself to breathe a sigh of relief, having decided in his head that Sammy was going to be in Ravenclaw and everything was going to be alright... when the Hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!"
Dean swallowed hard as the bottom dropped out of his stomach.
Well. That had certainly been unexpected.
Alright, so Dean would have been lying if he had said that he was entirely, one hundred percent OKSY with Sam being in Slytherin. It was one thing for Dean to be the outcast with a chip on his shoulder, the rebel without a cause... but for Sammy?
The thought of Sammy alone in a room full of Slytherins made his stomach twist. When the food appeared, he had to force himself to eat and to not spend the entire feast shooting worried looks at the Slytherin table, trying to gauge his brother's reaction to his sorting. More than that, he was trying to get a read on the Slytherin prefect. Unlike Lupin and Novak, Dean had almost no reason in the past four years to really give much notice to the greasy-haired boy that looked just as unhappy and put-upon as Dean was feeling just then. He didn't have any classes with the Slytherin that he could recall, and he felt a bit sheepish that he'd spent so many years in the same school with him and couldn't even recall with absolute certainty what his damned name was. His Dad would be ashamed of him if he knew how unobservant he'd been.
Still, there was time to correct that and correct that he would. As soon as they were dismissed for the night, Dean was on his feet and sneaking through the throng of people until he could grab the Slytherin by the arm to get his attention. He was met with cold black eyes that were a little too deep set over his awkwardly large nose. And if looks could kill, Dean's heart would be freezing in his chest. The dark eyes glanced down at the hand on his sleeve and then back up to narrow disdainfully when they met Dean's gaze.
Dean quickly released his grip, wondering if the boy was so disdainful of his touch because he was a Hufflepuff or if it was because he was human and not a full-blooded wizard as the purist snobs would have preferred. He had an uncomfortable awareness of just how prejudiced some of the snakes could be at times. But, hell, for all he knew it could have been because he was an American. Who could ever say for a certainty why a Slytherin got their panties in a twist?
Dean plastered on his most charming smile, the one that never, EVER failed to get him laid. "Hey there, uh..." Dean sorta wished that he at least knew the prefect's name. "...er, Simon? Right?"
Black eyes blinked slowly at him and for a moment Dean thought that a full-scale wizard duel was about to be declared in the middle of the Great Hall, but then the other boy's chin tilted up and those black, shark-like eyes were glaring at him from down the side of that almost ridiculous nose of his. "It's Severus, actually, but I suppose for a Hufflepuff, getting the first letter right could be considered quite an accomplishment. You should speak to a professor about getting house points for the achievement."
Dean just smiled wider. He had to respect a person who could come out with both guns blazing like that. "Well, you know us Hufflepuffs. Gotta get started on those points right away to have a decent shot at fourth place."
Evidently, the self-deprecating humor was the correct route to take because some of the ice seemed to crack a little and the boy chuffed a breath that could ALMOST have been a laugh.
Dean grinned, congratulating himself on a minor conquest. "Right, then. Severus. Can I talk to you for a second?"
"If it will facilitate the removal of your presence, then by all means. Talk."
"Right, so..." Dean shifted his weight on his feet, trying to read the Slytherin and failing miserably. He was usually good at reading people, about knowing what to say to play into their trust and get them to like him. Earning a stranger's confidence when they had less than no reason to give it was an important skill for a hunter. But reading Severus was like trying to see through a brick wall. Damned beady black eyes and stony gargoyle-like expressionless face.
Dean sighed, uncomfortable that he was essentially taking this conversation blind. "So, uh... My little brother Sammy, well..."
Severus raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking him to get to the point.
Dean shifted again. "Right, so my brother, Sammy, was just sorted into your House, and you know... As his big brother, it's sort of my job to worry about him... You know, make sure he's doing his homework and not staying up reading East German philosophy at all hours of the night... And..." Dean grit his teeth, wishing he knew more about who he was talking to, hating that he didn't. "And I just want to make sure that somebody's looking out for him, you know, watching his back. I can't really do that from over in the Hufflepuff dorm and well... I guess I was just wondering if I could trust you... To look out for him when I can't."
At that, both of the Slytherin's dark eyebrows shot up, nearly to his hairline. If Dean had thought that the boy was impossible to read before when he had no expression on his face but haughty self-importance, it was almost worse with the rapid fluctuations of emotion that he was contending with now. Dean struggled to keep up with picking them out; eyes widened in surprise, brow furrowed in confusion, mouth twitching into something unreadable that quickly shifted to narrow-eyed suspicion... then anger?
Severus' voice was brittle and harsh, "What are you playing at? Did THEY put you up to this?"
Dean frowned, his own suspicion starting to trigger at the crazy way that Severus was scanning the crowd of migrating students, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of somebody in the weaving throng. Dean frowned and twisted his head to see what the Slytherin was looking for, but quickly gave up and asked instead, "Did WHO put me up to this? And why would they?"
Severus scowled and gave up his own crowd search in order to peer suspiciously at Dean, his entire demeanor flinty with sharp edges. "You should beware; I do not take kindly to being mocked. Least of all by a..." Sneer. "...Hufflepuff." He glared as he leaned forward in a manner that would have been intimidating to a normal Hufflepuff. After all, the boy was fairly tall and even though he seemed quite skinny, he could make his robes puff out and billow in a way that would give any comic book villain a run for their money. His voice had dropped to a venomous hiss, spit from between his clenched teeth. "It's bad enough those bloody Gryffindors want to make my life miserable... Now they're enlisting bloody HUFFLEPUFFS to harass me too?"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Dean wasn't all that short himself and he knew that physically, he could probably snap the other kid in half. Being a hunter had taught him plenty about keeping himself fit. Playing on the Quidditch Team as a beater for the better part of the last three years had only encouraged him to maintain his physique. He wasn't at all intimidated, but he knew enough about human nature to know that allowing Severus to THINK that he was intimidated might be more beneficial to his cause just now, so he took a step back and slumped his shoulders a bit, allowing his posture to weaken. "Look, I'm not trying to harass anybody..."
Severus's face was white and his hands were curled into tight fists and Dean glanced back along the direction that the other boy had been looking with sudden clarity.
Dean raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, the Gryffindors have nothing to do with this, so take a breath and relax. This is me, Dean Winchester, asking you to look out for my brother, Sammy Winchester. Sammy the Slytherin. See? No lions involved, just a manly exchange between us snakes and badgers here. It's my brother that we're talking about. Why would the Gryffindors care if I ask you to look out for my brother?"
After a few moments of fragile tension, the Slytherin took a breath and seemed to relax the merest fraction of a bit. "As if being seen associating with Hufflepuffs is any better than being accosted by Gryffindors."
Dean shrugged, not to be cowed. "Well, like I said, I need somebody to look out for my brother and if I can't trust you to do it, then I'll have to do it myself. Can you just imagine what people will say about having a Hufflepuff camping outside your dungeon?"
Severus blinked. "You can't be serious."
"I'll even make sure to wear my bunny slippers and dinosaur pajamas and you'll have to step over my snoring, cuddly self every night and every morning for the next three years. I might even bring some 'puffy decorations to make it feel more like home. A few plants, a few throw pillows, a squishy stuffed badger or two, a bit of yellow to brighten the dungeons up a little."
"What an absolutely revolting thought." Severus rolled his eyes, heaving out a put-upon sigh. "Very well, if it will save us all from being inflicted with you, I will promise to look after your brother. You said his name was Sam?"
Dean couldn't help but smile his gratitude. "Right. Sam Winchester."
The Slytherin prefect turned to go, but glanced sideways back at the Hufflepuff. "I shouldn't have to remind you that Slytherins do look out for their own regardless."
And it was true, really, the snakes WERE a pretty tight knit group. "Not to sound like a dick, but I couldn't just trust any Slytherin to protect my baby brother." Severus began to tense up and Dean lifted his chin. "But you? I think I can trust you. I mean, you're not just any Slytherin, right? You're Severus. I think I can trust Severus to look after Sammy for me."
Dean couldn't read the expression on Severus's face, before the boy turned with a billow of his black robe and began striding towards the entrance of the great hall, barking out a sharp, "Slytherin first years! Follow me!"
Dean couldn't help noticing that Sam was trying to avoid him but Dean still managed to snag him around the neck as he passed to give his floppy blond hair an affectionate ruffle. Sammy twisted and squirmed his way out of the headlock and tried to straighten his hair while glaring daggers at him.
"Come on, man, could you BE any more obnoxious?"
Dean grinned, watching his brother walk away. "Bitch!"
Sammy turned back momentarily, calling over his shoulder, "Jerk!"
Dean laughed. His brother would be okay and he would still get to harass him on occasion throughout the day. Everything was going to be fine. It was only then, after watching all the little snakes file out after their prefect that he realized that he had his own prefect duties to attend to. With a last glance at his brother's retreating back, he made his way back over to the Hufflepuff table, shaking out his arms to get his blood flow pumping. His little Hufflepuff cubs deserved to have a great first night in Hogwarts and it was his job as a prefect to get the school year started off right. Fortunately for the little badgerlets, he was a Hufflepuff that knew how to party.
"Alright, kids! Who's ready to see the coolest dorm in the castle?"