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Chapter Text

The Grunnings drill manufacturing company was very successful in Britain and wanted to expand to the United States. The current director, Vernon Dursley, was in negotiations with several entrepreneurs in the States, but the final steps had to take place in America itself. Seeing dollar signs, Vernon wanted to show off his beautiful wife and their perfect son, so a business trip/vacation was planned. The only blemish on the trip was his niece.

The freak.

He had hoped at first that their neighbour, Mrs. Figg, would babysit the brat, but because of a broken leg, she had declined. There was no way he would leave the girl home alone. There would be no house left when he returned, with her weirdness. So there was no other option than to take the little bitch with them. A dark thought played around in his head, from the moment it became clear that she would come along. They had to keep the little bitch, but... if she ran away herself, coincidentally, during the trip... would that be their fault?

While the suitcases were being packed, Vernon discussed his idea with his wife. Petunia hesitated. Dumbledore had been very clear in his letter. As long as the girl lived with them, and called their home her home, they would be protected from the dark wizards who still supported the Dark Lord. The man who had murdered her sister and her good-for-nothing brother-in-law. If the girl were to “disappear', as Vernon had explained, they would no longer be protected. Plus, she would lose her maid and have to do everything herself again. Her niece was now 9 years old and practically did the whole housework, leaving Petunia to do what was really important. Gossiping, reading magazines, taking her son to the park, shopping.

Petunia also had a dark thought but on a different matter. Vernon was an aggressive man, who was now taking his violence out on her niece. He called it necessary, to beat the freakishness out of her. Petunia never complained, never stopped him. She to thought the girl was a freak, just like her sister had been. Surely, if they beat her into submission, she would never have magic? She ignored the girl for the most time. Those eyes of hers reminded her to much of Lily. And anyway, it wasn't as if the brat didn't deserve it. Right?

But if the girl would be gone, what then? Would Vernon beat their own son? Or her? At the beginning of their marriage, he could be terribly aggressive if the food wasn't tasty enough or the house was not clean enough. He had never actually hit her, but what if he did? On the other hand, if the girl was gone, she had a perfect family once again. She could handle Vernon.

No real agreement was made to dump the freak somewhere and Vernon did not press the matter. In the days that followed, passports had to be arranged and Vernon figured it would be cheaper to stuff the brat in a suitcase and take her with them that way. There were photos to be taken, passport fees, she needed some kind of suitcase for clothes... out of anger at how unfair it was that he had to pay for this he gave his niece a good beating when they got home. As the strap came down on her back and she cried in pain, he felt powerful. He would miss this. Her cries, her pleas to stop, he loved it. Too bad she wouldn't be coming home with them. Vernon knew for sure. He would leave her somewhere and then it wouldn't be his problem any longer.

Chapter Text

Rain was pelting down on the windshield and roof, causing the wipers to whip back and forth. Sam groaned softly as he tried to steady his dislocated shoulder. Dean glanced over and looked worriedly at his younger brother. Dean himself was not without wounds. His eyebrow was split open causing blood to trickle down his face, his knuckles were skinned, a cut on his forearm, and a fair amount of bruises. The werewolf they had just killed had not gone down without a fight.

The plan was to return to the Bunker, but that was still over 250 miles away and Dean decided to find a motel nearby so he could patch himself and Sam up and get a few hours of sleep. There were several motels along the highway, and it didn't take long before he saw a sign for a motel with available rooms.

Dean pulled into the parking lot and glanced over. “I'm going to book a room, can you get our stuff in like this?”

Sam nodded and both brothers got out. While Dean was at the reception, arranging everything, Sam looked around. It was a standard motel, with multiple rooms next to each other. There were 7 other cars and a camper. Sam walked to the back of the Impala and opened it, to get the bags out. His shoulder was really bothering him and he dropped one of the bags, right in the middle of a puddle of water. And for once, it wasn't his own bag, but Dean's. Damn it.

He grumbled to himself and bent down to pick up the bag when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. Forgetting the pain, and years of experience as a hunter, he shot up, dropped everything, and grabbed his gun. Within seconds he had aimed the gun, ready to use it, and saw... a girl. She was small, soaked, wearing clothes that were much too big for her. Sam immediately lowered his gun and before he could say anything, the child turned around and fled. 

“Sam?”

Sam turned around. “What are you doing?” Dean was confused and looked in the direction where the child had just disappeared. “Dude, why is my bag in the water?” He looked at Sam, annoyed.

“Sorry, I got distracted by...there was a girl...a kid and I jumped and aimed my gun at her. Before I could say anything she was gone.” Sam sounded worried. “She was soaked man, should we go look for her?”

Dean looked around, rain was still pouring down. “Find her, in this weather? I mean, I'll give it a shot, but I don't think it's going to happen.” Sam shook the water from his eyes and had to admit that Dean had a point. Dean lifted the bags off the ground, glared at his bag again, then glared at his brother before walking to their assigned room.

“Come on. That shoulder needs to be fixed.” The men walked inside and closed the door, at which the girl, hiding in the bushes, let out a sigh of relief. That was a close call.

She crept back towards the shiny black car. The hood was still warm and she put her hands on the car momentarily. The warmth was welcome since she was so cold. When the big man pointed a gun at her, she had been terrified and unable to move. She had been scared all the time, ever since Vernon had thrown her out of the car two days ago. It had been four days since she had eaten anything and she had these bouts where she felt light-headed. It didn't help that she was soaked from head to toe and so damn cold. She was already coughing a bit and had a runny nose.

 The parking lot was lit up and she looked around. There were no real opportunities to eat, except for a vending machine of some kind, but she had no money.

Years of sleeping in a space under the stairs, with too little food, had made her small and agile. She was fast because her cousin and his friends hunted her down whenever they could. She was also very good at sneaking, that way she had occasionally managed to steal food from her aunt when she wasn't looking.

There was no one else outside at this time of night. The full moon was up, indicating it was the middle of the night. She had no watch, so she couldn't be sure. Taking a chance, she crept across the parking lot, towards the vending machine with cans of drinks and bags of chips. The machines were located next to the motel room windows and ware under a kind of roof, so at least she was out of the rain. She had to pass the door where the two men had just entered and also the ice cube machine. The light was still on in the room, but she hoped and prayed that the man would stay inside.

Arriving at the machine, which was next to a wall, she felt in the slot to see if there was any money left behind. Unfortunately not. She sank to her knees and then felt if there was any food left in the larger slot. As she felt through the space in the machine with her hand, the door next to the ice cube machine opened and the man she had seen earlier at the car stepped out. It was the man with the short hair, not the man who had grabbed the gun.

She swallowed and realized that she was trapped. Behind her was a wall, in front of her that man, who had noticed her by now. He was tall, at least 6.1. He had clotted blood on his eyebrow and his hands looked torn. His eyes were greenish and he had short, dark hair. He looked dangerous and at that moment he looked curiously at her and she saw that he was thinking. Something in his gaze changed and he stepped towards her. She froze and looked at him with wide, frightened eyes.

Chapter Text

“Ready? On three okay?” Sam nodded, Dean counted down, and on two he pushed the shoulder back into the socket, causing Sam to curse. “Take it like a man, dude,” Dean joked. Sam glared at him and took a swig from the bottle of liquor they kept for times like this.

“Are you good?” Dean may have been joking, but a dislocated shoulder was fucking painful and he wanted to make sure it was okay. Sam moved his arm carefully and nodded. “Yeah, I'm good. I'm going to take a shower, then I'll stitch your eyebrow?” Dean nodded. “I'm going to go get some ice outside. See you soon.”

He opened the door, stepped outside, and looked over to his right, where the ice cube machine was. On the floor, by the vending machine next to the ice cube machine, sat a girl. A very small girl, wearing clothes that were way too big. She had a mop of messy black hair, round glasses and she was completely soaked. Dean noticed that her arm was in the vending machine. In an instant he realized that this was the girl Sam had seen earlier, he saw her fear of him a mere moment later. Understandable. She couldn't run away right now because he was in the way and he was a big man, who still had blood on his face. Dean saw the fear in her eyes. Okay, this had to be done with the necessary tact. 

For the surly hunter, who slaughtered monsters without any remorse, usually shot first and started asking questions later, it took a while to switch to a different mindset. He cleared his throat and said, “Hey kid, you okay?” His voice was a bit gravely. There was no reaction and his experience taught him that she was now thinking of a way to get away.

“My name is Dean, sorry my brother scared you just now.” He made a movement with his thumb towards the door. Her eyes followed the movement. Dean decided to remain calm. That way she couldn't get past him and he might get an answer. “Are you lost?”

No answer, just that same scared look. “Okay... listen kid, I'm not going to hurt you, but you're completely soaked, it's cold, I think you're hungry and thirsty. Am I right?”

Dean watched the girl stand up. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and even though it was way too big, it didn’t cover her entire arm. There was a huge bruise on her forearm, near her wrist. Dean’s gaze darkened. Someone had hurt her.

When she saw the angry look in his eyes, she mistakenly thought he was angry at her and she backed away. But there was the wall and she couldn’t go any further. “Oh, shit, wait a minute. I’m not angry at you, but that bruise, that didn’t get there by itself.” Dean crouched down, trying to seem less threatening. “Listen, I really just want to help you. Will you at least tell me your name?”

It took a moment, but finally, the girl whispered her name. “Dana?” Dean repeated what she said. She nodded shyly, still scared.

“Okay, hi Dana.” Dean smiled the charming smile he used to pick up women.

“Dean? Are you still outside, dude?” The door opened and the giant stepped out. Dana gulped, and the fear and adrenaline took over. No longer thinking she grabbed the wooden railing attached to the wall next to her and swung her leg over it. Unfortunately, the railing was bigger than she expected, and she couldn’t get her leg any further over it. Dean saw what was happening, and shot up to stop her from hurting herself, which startled Dana again, causing her to fall to the ground and slide back on her butt, her hands protectively around her head. “No, please no!”

Dean stopped in his tracks and looked at Sam. Shit. Despite Sam’s size, his brother had always been able to convey more empathy than Dean. Dean was always a bit rougher, and more aggressive. Sam figured out what Dean wanted from him and calmly approached the cowering girl. After showering, he had put on clean clothes and was waiting for Dean to return with the ice. Sam nodded to his brother and sat down on the ground across from the girl, cross-legged. The floor was dry, luckily there was a small roof, because the rain had not stopped. While his brother sat on the ground, Dean stepped aside and leaned against the ice maker. Trying to look very non-threatening.

“I understand that you're scared, but believe me when I say we're not going to hurt you. But you're all wet and I think you're cold and maybe hungry.” Sam looked at Dean, who frowned. “Told me her name is Dana.”

“Okay, hi Dana, my name is Sam and you have met Dean.”

Dana looked through her arms at the man sitting on the floor across from her. This was a situation she had never encountered before and she didn't know what to do. She carefully lowered her arms and pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. Het back was still pressed against the wall.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. Sam looked at her in surprise. “For what?” Dana shrugged. “Dean, is the bar still open here?” Dean understood why Sam asked. “I can go check it out.” He walked away and Sam stayed behind with Dana.

“Shall we start by getting you something to eat? And something to drink?” Dana looked at him as if he had grown a second head. Sam felt sorry for the girl. She was obviously either lost or abandoned, she was wet and dirty and bruised. From the way she was reacting to him and Dean, it was clear that she was afraid of being hurt.

“I get it. You don't know us, we don't know you, but me and my brother, we help people. And I think you need help.”

Dana really wanted to believe that Sam was okay. That they wouldn't hurt her and that they wanted to help her. But when you're told your whole life that you're a freak and worthless, not deserving of love and care, you start to believe that. She never had an adult who treated her like Sam did now. Maybe the old woman she sometimes had to stay with, who had a bunch of cats. But men were scary. Her experience with large man had been nothing but painful and these two men were bigger than her uncle. She shuddered at the thought that they would hit her.

Still, she could not get away, and she was so very tired, so she asked, “What do you want in return?” Her voice was soft and raspy.

She had an English accent. Sam looked at her blankly for a moment. “Uhm, nothing? What do you think we want in return?”

Dana shrugged. “I don't have any money. I can't pay it back. I can clean or something. Or uhm...I can wash the car?”

Dana knew nothing was free. You only get food if you earn it, or if you steal it. Sam got an indignant look in his eyes and she cringed a little. “No, no wait, you don't have to do anything for it. What's...oh...I get it.” Sam sighed and promised himself that he would find the person who made this little girl think like that and that he would give them a good talking to.

“It's pretty cold. Do you want to wait inside?” Dana shook her head. “Okay, we'll wait here.” Despite her shivers, Sam knew he wouldn’t get her into the motel room and gave in to waiting for Dean outside. She would no willingly come inside, and he didn’t want to scare her any more than she already was by forcing her. He decided he needed more information and started asking questions.

“You have an accent, are you from England?” Dana nodded, looking at him through her filthy glasses with a small amount of apprehension. “Were you born there?” Another nod. “Where are your parents?” There was a pause until she said her parents were dead. “Are you lost?” “No. Yes. I don’t know where I am.”

“Where did you come from?”

 ”A big city…Kansas?” Sam smiled kindly and Dana felt a little less afraid, for Sam was being very kind to her and he had a nice smile. “Yes, Kansas is a big city, a ways from here. But how did you get here?”

Dana had the greenest eyes Sam had ever seen. Her glasses may have been dirty, but her eyes were clearly visible. Those eyes looked at him with a little less suspicion, which he thought was a plus. She also had an unusual-shaped scar on her head. At that moment, Dean came back, carrying a paper bag with food and a carton of drinks. “Still outside?” He held up the bag, which smelled good. “I’ve got burgers and fries. Come.” And without waiting, Dean walked into the motel room.

Sam could see the conflict in the girl. He carefully stood up and held out his hand. It took half a minute before Dana gave in, took his hand, and stood up. He stepped back a little and she slowly walked around him. At the motel room door, she looked in, where Dean had put the food on the table. Her stomach growled loudly. She looked back, Sam gave her his best puppy dog eyes and she walked in, making Sam smile. Obstacle overcome. He followed her and closed the door.

Chapter Text

Dean was sitting at the table where the food was. Dana was looking longingly at the food, which made Dean chuckle. “If you just stand there, the food won't go into your stomach.” He pushed a paper plate with a hamburger on it towards her and a cup with a straw in it. She looked at him hesitantly. “What's wrong?”

Sam sat down on the bed and rubbed his face with his hand. “She's afraid she'll have to do something for it, as payment for the food.”

Dana hung her head. Because of this, she didn't see the look of understanding the brothers shared. ”Nonsense, you're not going to pay for this. Come on, dig in kiddo. Come on, sit down.” Dean sounded a bit harsher than Sam, which made Dana's brain switch to do-as-you-are-told-or-else mode. She sat down on the edge of the chair and took a big bite of the hamburger. Dean grinned at her. “Good?”

Dana nodded and quickly continued eating. While they were eating, Dean and Sam communicated in the way people do when they've known each other for years. With looks, gestures, and the occasional sigh, Sam conveyed what he suspected. Abused, abandoned. 

Sam sat down at the table after Dana had finished her burger. She had felt sick after the last bite but didn't dare say so. Dean saw her go pale and looked at his brother with concern. “Kid, you okay?” Dana nodded, turned even whiter, suddenly looked at him in panic, and shot up. For such a small kid, she was remarkably fast, the brothers noticed. She flew into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. The burger had been too greasy after she hadn't eaten for too long and her stomach couldn't handle it. After gagging a few more times, she got up, turned around, saw Sam and Dean standing in the doorway. She could not stop the tears that pooled in her eyes and started sobbing.

She had thrown up after they had fed her. They spend money on her, on a freak and she could not even keep it down. They would probably be angry with her, and she couldn't see through her tears that the brothers weren't angry but worried about her. Dean and Sam had been hunting together for years and were used to a lot, but a little girl going completely mental after throwing up was new.

Dean tried to suppress his own panic and cracked a joke. “Well, this is the last time I'm buying you a hamburger.” Sam punched him in the arm and Dean felt guilty when Dana started crying harder. “Dude, empathy, man, don't be such a dick!”

Dana stood with her arms around her stomach and looked through her tears at the two men in the doorway. “Sorry, sorry, I was...sorry, please, I...I...please don't hurt me.” When she saw Sam walking toward her, she cringed and walked backward until her back hit the wall. “Please, don't! Please...” She slid down the wall and once again protected her head with her arms.

“Dean, call Jody, and ask her what we should do.”

After sending his brother away, Sam crouched down in front of Dana. Despite her pleas, he grabbed her arms very gently and moved them out of the way so he could look at her. “Hey, calm down, we're not mad at you. It's okay and you're not going to get punished or anything. Just take a breath.”

Dana hiccupped and tried to do what Sam said. She took a gasping breath and looked at him, tears still in her eyes. “I'm sorry...about the food. I didn't mean to...”

“Hey, like I said kid, it's okay. Tell me honestly, how long have you not eaten?” Normally, hamburgers would be fine, but Sam suspected that Dana had not eaten anything in a while, making a hamburger the worst choice because of the grease. Her stomach probably couldn’t handle that, causing her to throw up. So he asked the question and dreaded the answer. When she didn't answer him, he looked a little sterner. “Dana?”

“Four days.”

Sam cursed and at that moment Dean walked in. “Dude, she hasn't eaten in four days.” Dean looked sheepish. “Jody said I was a jerk, that we should have given her more time and not a hamburger and just some toast.” It sounded crestfallen and Dana couldn't help it, she already admired this Jody. Sam snorted and helped Dana up. Deciding to take charge, he looked over at Dean and nodded firmly. Turning back to Dana he said, “You, young lady, are going to take a shower. I'll give you a shirt to sleep in and then we'll see tomorrow.”

“But...”

“No, no buts. You're completely frozen, you just threw up. Dean and I will stay outside, you're going to get warm and then I'll get you a regular sandwich somewhere. Then you go to bed and we'll see tomorrow. Agreed?”

There was little else to do but accept and so after an hour, Dana was in one of the beds. Sam had indeed gotten a regular sandwich with cheese and a glass of milk from somewhere. She had been given a pair of boxer shorts by Dean, which she had grabbed with red cheeks. Fortunately, Dean was also a bit embarrassed. Sam had given her a shirt and she had showered. She was warm and clean and in a real bed. It wasn't long before she was asleep.

“What else did Jody say, besides you being a jerk?” Sam chuckled softly. Dana was snoring peacefully and he and Dean were sitting at the table. He was stitching Dean's eyebrow.

“That we should take it easy and not scare her and that she would figure it out. But without a last name, it's hard. Do you know more?”

“Just her first name, parents are dead she said. And she's from England. Do you think Cas might know more?”

“Yeah, maybe. Cas!”

Dean called softly for the angel. Castiel didn't come and Dean looked angry. “Where's that guy when we need him?” Sam shrugged and finished the last stitch. “Go get a few hours of sleep, I'll stay awake. Maybe I can find something on the internet.”

Dean was asleep within two minutes and Sam crawled behind the laptop. But finding someone with only a first name is impossible. It was the middle of the night and calling Charlie wasn't an option right now. Around 4 in the morning, Sam finally fell asleep.

Dana woke up at 6:30 A.M. She couldn't sleep anymore and sat up in bed. Her throat hurt and her nose was completely blocked. She also had to go to the toilet and looked at the sleeping men. Dean was lying on his stomach and didn't look so threatening in his sleep. Sam had his head on his laptop and snored softly. Dana walked very carefully to the bathroom and did her business. She washed her hands and looked in the mirror. Her hair was matted and her nose was red. Watery eyes and her breath sounded raspy. When she opened the door, Sam woke up and looked at her.

“Are you sick, Dana?” He stood up and wanted to feel her forehead. Instinctively, she backed away, causing Sam to pull his hand away. “I just want to check if you have a fever. Can I do that?”

After a hesitant nod, the hunter reached out his hand and placed it on her forehead. She was burning hot. “Okay, uhm, go sit on the bed for a while. You have a fever.” Sam looked doubtful for a moment. “Dean! Wake up!” He pulled on his brother's foot and Dean shot up with a curse. “What?!”

“Dana, she's sick, she has a fever. We need Cas and we need him right away. You call him, he won't listen to me anyway.” Dana watched the interaction with surprise. What were they talking about?

Dean grumbled and smiled at her. “Morning sunshine.” Dana looked down before smiling back hesitantly. Dean crouched down in front of the bed. “Are you sick?

Dana shrugged. “I don't feel so good. My throat hurts.”

“You sound like a saw,” Dean joked. “Honey, how old are you?”

“I'll be 10 in July.” Dean was shocked. If she had told him she was 6, he would have believed her. “Okay, so 9 years old. Sam says your parents are dead?” Dana nodded. “Where do you live then?”

While Dana was thinking about what to say, Dean sat down next to her on the bed. He very carefully put an arm around her. She didn’t flinch away and Dean smiled to himself.

Dana took a deep breath, Dean heard the rattling. This wasn't good. He had to call Cas. He said a quick prayer. “I live with my aunt and uncle. In England. But my uncle had to come here for work and two days ago he took me in the car and on the way he stopped. He told me to get out and when I didn’t go fast enough he pushed me out. After that, he drove away.”

While she was telling her story, Dana had leaned a little more against Dean. With his other hand, he carefully ran his fingers through her hair, which was completely tangled.

“And then?”

“Then I started walking and now I'm here.” Well, Dean thought...I had already figured that out. Sam came in with some crackers and a glass of milk. The lady who ran the motel had a child herself and Sam had gotten the sandwich and milk from her last night. She had been so kind to help him again. He saw Dana leaning against Dean and Dean was very gently combing her hair with his fingers. His brother, the nightmare of monsters and demons was a big softy underneath all the grumbling and cursing.

“I have some crackers and milk, are you hungry?” Sam put the food on the table. “Sorry, I uhm...” Dana wanted to shrug her shoulders but Dean's arm was pretty heavy. Dean shook his head and Sam frowned. “She has a sore throat, a cracker would hurt even more. I'm going to call Cas.”

Asking questions was not allowed with the Dursleys. Dana had learned that very early. But she was curious too and she blurted out her question. “Who is Cas?”

Dean grinned, causing Dana to relax a bit. “A friend of ours. A special friend. Just wait a minute, I'll be right back. Just lie down for a while, okay?” Dean walked outside and towards the car. He was just about to pray when he saw the angel standing there. “Finally... man we need help. There's a girl, long story, but she's sick and bruised, and well, go do your thing.” Castiel looked at Dean, in the typical way he did when Dean said something he couldn't follow.

He followed the hunter to the motel room and to his amazement he indeed saw a girl. “Where was this child found?” Sam pointed outside. “By the vending machine.” Castiel knew immediately what the girl was. Het magical core was humming softly to his angelic ears. But both Sam and Dean hated witches, so he didn't say anything about it and walked over to the child. Dana looked at him suspiciously and when he tried to touch her forehead to heal her, she ducked.

“Cas, Jesus dude, explain yourself. You can see she's scared.” Sam sounded grumpy and stood in front of Dana. He gave Cas a little push and turned to Dana. He pointed over his shoulder at Cas.

“He's a friend of ours. A special friend who can help you.” Dana shook her head. No wat she would let the creepy man near her. She made herself small, and Sam crouched by the bed. “Castiel is an angel.” Dana looked at him in disbelief. “Angels don't exist.” It came out snappy and Dana could mentally slap herself. Why was she talking back? Sam however, didn’t mention her tone, merely grinned and ran his hand through his hair. “Unfortunately, they do, and most are jerks, but Cas is an exception.” Dana looked at the so-called angel and saw him make a face at Sam's statement. “He can make you better if he touches your forehead with his fingers. It doesn't hurt and you feel better afterward.”

“Is it magic? Because that doesn't exist either. I know for sure because Uncle Vernon said it doesn't.” Startled by her second outburst she closed her mouth and looked at Sam in alarm. He ignored it again and shrugged. “I think your uncle is a stupid man.” Dean snorted at that and Dana had to giggle. Sam held out his hand. “I can hold your hand, Dean can hold the other. Would it be okay then?”

Dean came over to the bed and sat down next to her and with the two hunters at her side, Castiel pressed his fingers to her head. A warmth shot through her body. The pain in her throat disappeared, her nose got air, the welts on her back disappeared and the bruise on her arm was gone. She felt better than ever and looked at Cas with amazement. “So magic does exist.” Cas gave her a small smile and disappeared. “Where did he go?” Dana looked around, confused. “Oh, he does that all the time.”

Standing up, Dean walked over to his bag. “Sam and I don't live here you know. We were on our way home. Do you want to come?” He didn't deny it. He would like her to come, but he couldn't force her.

“I don't want to be a bother. I...” Dean turned around. “You're not a bother. Don't say crazy things like that, missy.” Dana gulped and looked down.

“I'd like it if you came too,” Sam said, making her look up again. “You're 9 years old. I'd rather have you with us than alone on the road.” Dean had packed his bag and put on his coat.

“I don't have any clothes,” Dana said softly. “Oh...” it sounded sheepish from the two men. “Right, um yeah, I'll fix it. Wait a minute.”

Sam walked away from the bed and Dana saw to her surprise that Castiel was back, standing by the door. “Jody prayed to me. That was why I left. She gave me some clothes for her.” Sam and Dean exchanged looks of fondness. Jody was their kind of people. Dean turned around. “Here kiddo, get dressed, pee if you have to, and then we'll go.”

And so it was that Dana Potter, the Girl Who Lived, was sitting in the backseat of Baby, on her way to the bunker, with two hunters, who at that moment didn't know what kind of rollercoaster they were about to get into.

Chapter Text

The Impala purred softly as Dean sat behind the wheel, his gaze fixed on the empty road. Next to him, Sam was leafing through one of his notebooks, his face tense with exhaustion after the long night. In the backseat sat Dana, quietly in an oversized coat that Dean had given her. Jody had given Castiel a pair of pants and a shirt. Sadly, her socks and shoes were still wettish so Dean told her to take them out once she was in the car. There was a chill in the air and she didn’t have a coat, so Dean came to the rescue in the form of an old leather jacket. The coat was wonderfully warm and she felt safe in it despite everything. She had her knees pulled up, her arms wrapped around them, her bare foot a bit cold and she was processing everything that had happened in the past few days.

“Are you cold, kiddo?” Dean asked, not looking up from the road.

Dana shook her head, but her gaze remained fixed on the window. She then realised that Dean wanted a verbal answer and she softly said she was okay.

Sam turned halfway. “You want to listen to some music? Dean’s taste in music is terrible, but maybe it’ll help distract you.”

“Hey!” Dean protested immediately, reaching for the radio. “Little girls like classics, right?” He turned on Carry On My Wayward Son, the volume just low enough not to be distracting.

Sam half turned from the passenger seat, his gaze friendly but attentive. “You know, Dana,” he began carefully, “we’ve discussed this before. You said your uncle threw you out of the car…and I know that was really bad for you. Now we want to figure out how best to help you, but we need your last name.”

Dana shrugged and looked at the window as if she didn’t want to answer. “It doesn’t matter.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course it does. How can we help you if we don’t even know who you are? What does it say on your school report card, or…whatever, your dentist’s card?”

She looked up, her eyes sad. “I've never been to the dentist. I uh...my name is Dana Potter.”

Sam looked at Dean but kept his thoughts to himself for now. Never been to the dentist? How strange. “Thanks for telling us,” he finally said, his voice calm and sincere. Dana glanced at him and gave him a small smile before looking back out at the passing landscape. “Does your uncle have the same last name?” Sam asked. “No, his name is Dursley…Vernon Dursley.”

****

Arriving at the Bunker, Dana was visibly impressed by the massive doors and labyrinth of corridors. She followed the brothers silently as they descended the stairs into the warm, book-filled space. She had put her socks and shoes on again and the shoes made little squeaky noises because of the wetness.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dean said as he led her to a table. “This is our home base. No stupid uncles here.” He tried to keep it light, but Dana just smiled weakly.

Dean walked into a corridor, while Sam told her to wait a minute. “I am going to the kitchen, would you like some soup?” After nodding in agreement, she sat down at one of the chairs and waited until Sam returned.

Dana sat quietly at the table, slowly finishing the bowl of soup, spoonful by spoonful. She had taken off the heavy coat that was now hanging over the back of the chair. Sam sat across from her, leafing through a book as if searching for something important. Dean, meanwhile, was busy polishing a pile of weapons on the other side of the room, but he glanced at Dana now and then, as if trying to gauge what to make of her.

Dana’s eyes wandered, glancing over the walls of books, maps, and strange artifacts. One thing caught her attention: a small silver necklace with a shiny stone on it that lay on a shelf. It seemed to glitter, almost as if it were calling to her.

She looked over at Sam, who appeared to be engrossed in his book. He didn’t say anything so Dana quietly stood up and walked on her squeaky shoes to the shelf. “Sam, what is this?” she asked softly, her hand reaching for the necklace.

Sam looked up from his book. “That’s a protection charm. Better leave it be—”

But before he could finish what he was about to say, the necklace suddenly slid out of place and floated straight into Dana's hand, as if pulled by some invisible force.

“What…what was that?” Dana stammered, her eyes wide with fear as she clutched the necklace in her hand.

Dean looked up from his work and frowned. “Did you see that? That thing just flew at her!”

Dana turned to them, her hands shaking as she tried to put the necklace back. But before she could, the stone in the amulet began to glow softly. A warm golden glow spread through the room, quiet and calm, but unmistakably magical. It felt like the air was getting heavier, as if something ancient and powerful had awakened.

“Okay, what the hell is this?” Dean said sharply, standing up and taking a few steps forward. The gun he was cleaning was still in his hand.

Dana shook her head, her lips trembling. “I…I don’t know! It just did that!”

The necklace had stopped glowing and Dana carefully placed the necklace back on the shelf, her fingers still shaking. “I didn’t mean to do it,” she said softly. “It just happens. Always. And it causes problems...”

She glanced at Dean, her breathing quickening. His face seemed tense, his brow furrowed as he watched her. Dana involuntarily stepped back a few paces, as if preparing to bolt if the big man made a move.

“I… I didn’t mean to break anything!” she called out hastily. Her words came quickly and incoherently. “I don’t know how it works! It only happens when I’m scared, or when I’m angry, but I try to stop it. I really do! Please, don’t be angry with me!”

Dean stood frozen, clearly taken aback by her reaction. He opened his mouth, but Sam quickly placed a hand on his arm, a silent warning not to startle her further. Sam crouched down so he was at eye level with Dana.

“Dana,” he said softly, “you’re not in trouble. No one here is mad at you, okay?” His voice was reassuring as if he were talking to a wounded bird. “Dean just looks like that sometimes, that’s all. But trust me, you’re safe here.”

Dana’s gaze darted from Sam to Dean, her shoulders still tense. Dean, aware of her fear, let out a deep sigh and relaxed his posture. He put the gun down and his hands on his hips and looked straight at her but with a softer gaze.

“Listen, kiddo,” he began, his voice lower and calmer. “I’m not mad. I really am not. I just don’t know what any of this means, and that makes me a little… well, cautious. But you didn’t do anything wrong. You know that, right?” He could not believe himself right now, but he hoped the girl would believe him.

Dana nodded hesitantly, her eyes still wide with fear. “I don’t want to cause any trouble,” she whispered.

Dean gave a crooked smile and shrugged. “Hey, making trouble is kind of our job. So if something weird happens, just leave it to us, okay? You don’t have to worry.” Again, he lied to her.

Sam gave her an encouraging nod. “You’re not alone, Dana. Whatever this is, we’re going to figure it out together. Don’t panic, don’t stress. Deal?”

Dana swallowed and looked down at the floor, but after a few moments, she nodded cautiously. “Deal,” she whispered.

Chapter Text

Dana sat in a corner of the library, her feet propped up on the wide leather chair. On her lap lay a yellowed children’s book that Sam had found for her in one of the drawers: The Adventures of Froggy the Explorer. She seemed engrossed in the story, but Sam knew her ears were picking up every word he and Dean were discussing.

Dean slammed a heavy book cover shut and leaned back in his chair. “We need answers, Sam. I have no idea what we’re dealing with.” He didn’t say that he had considered testing her anyway for the usual suspects.

Sam nodded thoughtfully and glanced at Dana, who was pretending to turn a page. He spoke in a low voice. “Maybe Cas knows something. If there’s an angel who can explain this kind of weird magic, it’s him.”

Dean sighed deeply and shrugged. “Okay, let’s call him. The worse the news, the better Cas delivers it.”

Sam smiled faintly and stood up. Dean mumbled a brief prayer, half indifferent, half serious. “Cas, we need you here. And if you have time, bring donuts.”

Within seconds, the light in the room began to flicker. A soft wind seemed to come out of nowhere, and suddenly Castiel was standing there, his trench coat billowing slightly. His gaze immediately slid to Sam and Dean.

“What happened?” Castiel asked immediately, his blue eyes sharp and focused.

“Well, Cas, it’s nice of you to come without the donuts,” Dean began, but his tone quickly turned more serious. “We need an explanation.” He pointed to Dana. She was just letting a necklace with a protection stone in it float towards her, without touching it. It felt magical. Do you know what she is?”

Castiel’s gaze slid to Dana, who shrank slightly in her chair, her eyes still focused on the children’s book in her lap. “She’s a child,” he said slowly, as if he didn’t fully understand the situation.

“Yes, and she used magic,” Sam said, standing next to Castiel. “Not just any trick, Cas. This was… instinctive, unconscious. But powerful.”

Castiel returned his gaze to Dana and seemed to examine her for a moment as if he were looking right through her. “She’s special,” he said finally.

“Yeah, we figured that out,” Dean said impatiently. “What exactly is she? And where did this come from? And why didn’t you tell me yesterday?” Castiel took a moment to choose his words. “She’s a witch. But not like the witches you know. She’s from a community you’ve never met. I didn’t tell you because she’s very young and I know how you feel about witches.”

“What?” Dean frowned. “There’s a magical society, and no one ever told us about it?” He ignored the uneasy feeling he got at the thought of Cas thinking he would hurt a little child because she was a witch. He was a hunter, not a deranged lunatic who slaughtered children.

“Your world and theirs barely overlap,” Castiel explained. “Their magic is different. Based on rules and traditions that go back thousands of years. They have their own laws, their own hidden society.”

Sam stared at Castiel. “And you knew about this? Why didn’t we ever hear about it?”

Castiel looked straight at him. “You hunt creatures that pose a threat. These people, the magical community, hide to avoid being hunted. They stay out of sight. But they’ve always been there.” Dean leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. “Great. Another hidden world we know nothing about. So what do we do now?”

“Dana needs to be protected,” Castiel said without hesitation. “Her power is untrained, and that makes her vulnerable now. There will come a time when she will go to one of their schools.” He avoided saying that he knew exactly which school and how important Dana was to the magical world.

Sam glanced at Dana, who was now looking at him curiously. “So we need to know more about her world. But how?” Castiel thought for a moment, thinking how much he should reveal. “There are magical archives that are hidden, places where their history is kept. But perhaps the best way is to introduce her to one of them.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea,” Dean grumbled. “Invite someone we don’t know, from a world we know nothing about? What if they’re not so friendly?”

“Not all solutions are easy, Dean,” Castiel replied quietly. After that he left, letting the brothers think about what he had said. Both brothers came to the same solution, looking at the small girl. She needed new clothes.

Later that afternoon;

“Okay, kiddo,” Dean said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking through the aisles of the clothing store. “You need clothes. Not just that one faded T-shirt and those jeans. And certainly not the shirt you wore when we met you.”

Dana looked at him, eyes wide. Did he mean they were going to buy her clothes? She felt lost among the racks of dresses, coats, and shoes. “I don’t know… what to pick,” she said softly. She didn’t tell him she’d never been allowed to pick out her own clothes before.

Sam looked at the girl and saw that she was confused. He nodded Dean with his shoulder and knelt down next to her, his tone encouraging. “Well, you don’t have to pick anything you don’t like. Take your time. Here, let’s start with the basics.” He pulled a plain pink sweater off a rack. “How do you like this one?”

Dana shrugged. “It’s… okay, I guess.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You know what? Let’s keep it simple. Just pick out everything you like. And if you’re not sure, take it anyway. We can always return something later.”

Dana looked at Sam for confirmation. When he nodded, she began to search the shelves tentatively. After a while, she seemed to feel a little more at ease and chose a pair of jeans, a soft hoodie, and a pair of shoes with flowers on them.

Sam noticed how cautious she was, as if she were afraid of doing something wrong. Dean, who had noticed this too, leaned against a shelf and whispered to Sam, “She’s clearly never had a chance to really choose something for herself.”

Sam nodded and looked at her with soft eyes. “We’ll give her time. She’ll learn.”

After browsing the store, she now had jeans, shirts, hoodies, socks and undergarments. Dana felt it was too much and blanched at the amount of money it was. She looked at the men, expecting them to tell her she needed to put stuff back. But the just paid for it and even smiled at her. Sam even said he was proud of her, making her feel warm inside.  

Nou that the clothes had been paid for, Dean insisted that they would go to a toy store. Dana was so confused. But they went and in the toy store, Dana seemed even more lost than she had in the clothing store. She walked slowly along the shelves, looking at the stacks of games, puzzles, and dolls as if she had landed in another world.

“So,” Dean began, his arms crossed, “what do you want?”

Dana turned to him, her face confused and a hint of panic. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

Dean frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You have half the toy heaven here. Pick something you like.” Once again, it took the gruff hunter a moment to process this was not an ordinary child with a happy childhood. He looked at his brother and frowned. “Am I missing something here?” Before Sam could answer him, Dana spoke up.

“I don’t know why,” she said finally, her voice fragile. “Why should I get to pick something? Why are you giving this to me?”

Dean looked at her for a moment, his face frozen. He didn’t know what to say, but Sam filled the gap. “Because we want you to be happy, Dana. You deserve to have things that are yours, to have things you can enjoy.”

Dana looked down at the floor, her fingers nervously plucking at her sleeves. “I never had toys. Or new clothes. Everything was always Dudley’s.”

Dean looked at Sam, his mouth a tight line. “Dudley? Who’s that?” he asked softly.

Sam shrugged. “Is Dudley your cousin?” Dana nodded. Dean huffed. “Okay, I get it. He got spoiled and you didn’t get toys, am I right?” Dana’s cheeks reddened, confirming his thoughts. “Well, you live with us now, right, and Sam and I decided that you can have toys. So… look around and take some nice things okay?”

Dana sighed deeply, turned around, missing the look the brothers gave each other and continued walking, eventually stopping in front of a shelf of stuffed animals. She never had a plushy before and when she saw a small, soft-looking unicorn she picked it up and held it close. She smiled weakly as if it was the first time she’d been allowed to have something truly her own.

Dean walked over to Dana and crouched down so he was at eye level with her. "But listen, kiddo. You don't have to stop at just one thing."

Dana looked at him in surprise. "But... one thing is enough. I don't want to be greedy."

Sam also crouched down and shook his head. "It's not about greed. You deserve this, Dana. Pick two more things. Something that makes you happy. Something you just want."

Dana looked uncertainly at the shelves, her fingers still tightly wrapped around the unicorn. Dean put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, kiddo. This is a toy store. It's supposed to be fun. Pick something that you not only need but just because you can."

She walked slowly, her gaze scanning the shelves. Finally, she stopped at a small music box. It was decorated with star and moon motifs, and when she opened the lid, a soft, soothing melody began to play as a small unicorn spun around.

Dana’s eyes lit up. “That’s pretty,” she said softly.

Dean grinned. “That’s number two. What’s number three?” Dana paused for a moment, then looked around. Finally, she stopped at a shelf of puzzles. She picked up a box with a picture of a magical landscape that, according to the text on the box, would move in an enchanted way once the puzzle was complete.

“A puzzle,” she said. “I like puzzles. They help me think.”

Sam nodded approvingly. “That’s a nice choice. I think you’ll have a lot of fun with it.” Dana looked at the three things she was holding now: the plush unicorn, the music box, and the puzzle. She looked up at the brothers and smiled shyly.

After paying for the toys they went to Walmart, because Dean insisted that she needed stiff for her room. Dana hesitated at first, but after some encouragement, she chose a small moon-shaped nightlight and a colorful poster of stars and planets. She was very confused when Dean and Sam also included some soft pillows and a thick fleece blanket. She still didn’t quite understand why the brothers were being so nice, but she was also very happy with her new clothes, the toys, and the stuff for the room.

Back in the car, it was quiet except for the soft rustling of bags in the backseat. Dana sat next to Sam in the backseat, her unicorn hugged tightly to her. Dean looked in the rearview mirror and sighed softly.

Earlier in Walmart:

While Dana was looking around, Sam and Dean had a quiet conversation.

Dean leaned against a shelving unit of puzzles, his arms crossed, while Sam stood with his hands in his pockets. Dean let out a deep sigh and looked at his brother. “How do we handle this?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“This,” Dean said, nodding in Dana’s direction. “She can’t keep wandering. And she definitely can’t go back to those monsters who she calls her aunt and uncle.” Sam nodded slowly. “I know. But how do you suggest something like that to a child who’s just lost everything? She’s been through enough, Dean.”

“That’s exactly why,” Dean said fiercely, his voice a little softer than usual. “She needs someone. Someone to protect her.” He looked at Dana, who was then opening a music box and staring wide-eyed at the spinning unicorn. “She deserves more than what she’s had. And if we can give her that… then we should.”

Sam let his gaze settle on Dana and smiled slightly. “I agree. But… we have to be careful about this. She’s still scared, Dean. Especially of you.” Dean pulled a face. “What? Of me?”

“Yeah, of you,” Sam said with a chuckle. “You tend to come across as… let’s say, a little fierce. You have a big heart, but your behavior can be intimidating to someone like her.”

Dean grunted something unintelligible and looked back at Dana. “Okay, okay. So how do we go about this?” Sam thought for a moment before answering. “We’re just asking her. No pressure, no obligations. We’re offering her a place where she can be safe, where she can just be a kid. But we have to make it clear that it’s her choice.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Fine. But if she says no, then—”

“—then we respect that,” Sam added. “But I think she’ll say yes. She’s looking for something, Dean. She's looking for a home.”

****

“You know,” he began, his tone casual, “the bunker isn’t exactly a playground, but it’s safe. And big. Lots of room to hang out.”

Dana looked up at him. Sam smiled. “What Dean is trying to say is that we’d love for you to stay with us. If that’s what you want, of course.”

Dana stared at her unicorn and fiddled with its plush ears. “Stay with you? For… forever?”

Dean shrugged. “Well, maybe not forever. But as long as you want. Until you feel safe. Or… longer.” Sam added, “We know it’s all happening fast and it’s a lot to think about. But you don’t have anyone else, and we want to be here for you.”

Dana’s lips trembled a little, but she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded slowly. “I… I want to stay with you.”

She missed the huge smile Dean sprouted hearing her say that.

Chapter Text

The bunker felt quiet and cold as the three walked through the hallways. Dana held her new stuffed animal close to her as she tucked herself in between Sam and Dean.

“Okay, kiddo,” Dean said, opening a door to an empty room. “This is one of the options. Nothing fancy, but you can decorate it however you want.”

Dana stepped inside hesitantly. The room was simple: a bed, a desk, and a closet. The walls were bare, and the only light came from a simple lamp hanging from the ceiling. It felt more like a cell than a bedroom.

“We have more rooms,” Sam said encouragingly. “If this one doesn’t feel right, we’ll look elsewhere.” Dana nodded and followed them into the next room. After three rooms, she stopped at a space that was slightly smaller but felt warmer because of the dark brown wood paneling and carpet on the floor. She walked over to the bed and ran her hand over the simple blanket.

“This one?” Dean asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

Dana looked at him, a small smile on her face. “Yeah. This one.” Dean knocked on the doorframe. “Okay. This is your place now. Make it cozy.”

Sam handed her a stack of bags. “Here’s your new stuff. If you need anything, just call. We’ll leave you alone for a bit to unpack and put everything away.” Dana nodded and quietly began unpacking her things while the brothers retreated into the hallway. “So, how do we proceed?” Dean asked, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking at Sam.

“We need to know if she has any family,” Sam replied. “Jody said earlier that she would help.”

Dean nodded and tapped Jody’s number. It only took a few seconds for her voice to come through. “Dean,” she said, her tone dry but friendly. “I’m guessing you’re calling about Dana?”

“Exactly. Castiel told you she’s with us?” Dean asked, leaning against the wall.

“He said they saved a little girl, yeah. And that I’m apparently a good source of children’s clothes,” Jody replied with a hint of mockery. Dean grinned. “Thanks for that, by the way. Those clothes got her through the day. But we need more help.”

“How is she, keeping food down?” Sam grinned. “Yeah, she was healed by Cas earlier, she was burning up and he fixed her and somehow her stomach isn’t upset anymore either.” “Well good,” Jody said.

“So what can I do for you gents?” Jody asked, now more serious. Dean took over. “We need to know about her family. Her full name is Dana Potter. Her parents died when she was a baby, and she lived with her aunt and uncle, going by the name Dursley. But her uncle literally threw her out of the car.”

Jody was silent for a moment. “What?! He just left her?” Dean’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. So now she’s with us. And unless you find something that says otherwise, she’s staying here.”

“Understandable,” Jody replied. “I’ll get to work right away. If there’s anything I can find about her family or background, I’ll let you know. Give me a day or two.”

 “Thanks, Jody,” Sam said sincerely.

Jody sighed softly. “I know you mean well, and that girl deserves a safe place. Keep protecting her. I’ll call as soon as I know anything.” Dean hung up and looked at Sam. “I still hope she doesn’t find anything. That kid needs better people than the ones she’s had.”

Sam nodded. “Agreed. But whatever happens, we’re here for her.”

As they walked back to Dana’s room, they both felt the weight of the situation. But when they opened the door and saw Dana neatly placing her unicorn on the bed and hanging her clothes in the closet, they knew they were doing the right thing.

“How are things here?” Sam asked with a smile. Dana looked up, her gaze still cautious, but with a small spark of trust. “It’s… nice. It feels… like a place where I belong.”

Dean gave a thumbs up. “Good. Welcome home, kiddo.”

***

The bunker was quiet. Dana was now in her new bed, the soft glow of her nightlight just visible through the crack in the door. Sam and Dean were in the kitchen, each with a glass of whiskey in front of them. Dinner, a simple mac and cheese, had been good enough for Dana to crack a rare smile. But now there was a heavy silence in the air.

Dean stared at his glass, tapping the rim with his finger. “I still can’t believe there’s a whole magical world out there that we didn’t know about.” Sam leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Me neither. But considering how well they keep it a secret, it’s not that strange. It kind of fits; we know the supernatural world, they know the magical world.”

Dean snorted. “And apparently witches are a big part of that world.” He looked up at Sam, his gaze tense. “That makes me nervous, Sam. Witches and us… we’re not exactly friends, you know.” Sam nodded slowly. “I know, but Dana is not like the witches we know, who get their power form demons and the like. She is different, Dean. She doesn’t even know what she is, let alone how to use it.”

Dean rubbed his face. “That might make it worse. She’s a child, she has no control. What if she accidentally does something? Something dangerous?” Sam looked at him, his tone calm. “That risk is there, yes. But we’ve seen that people can learn to deal with what they are. Dana deserves that chance, too.”

Dean took a sip of his whiskey and stayed silent for a moment. “I know. But it’s not just that, Sam. The longer she’s here, the more she’s starting to seem like me… like family. And that makes it even harder. I want to protect her from everything, but what if I can’t protect her from herself?”

Sam leaned forward, his voice determined. “We can help her, Dean. She never had anyone to stand up for her, to tell her it was okay to be who she is. We can give her that.”

Dean looked at his brother, his gaze softer but still uneasy. “And what if we can’t give her enough? What if this magical world claims her or she discovers something that turns her against us?”

Sam sighed. “We’ll deal with that when it comes. But what we can do now is make sure she knows she’s safe here. That she can stay here, no matter what happens.”

Dean lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to try, Sam. For her. But if someone tries to hurt her, or if this magical world becomes a problem… they have no idea who they’re dealing with.”

Sam smiled faintly. “I know. And she has no idea what a good man you are, Dean. Give it time. We’ll get there.”

Dean sighed deeply as if he were letting something fall off his shoulders. “Tomorrow, we need to bring Rowena in. She knows more about that magical world than anyone. And honestly? I want answers. For Dana. For us.” Sam nodded. “Rowena is a good choice. She may be unpredictable, but she knows that world better than anyone. I’ll call her in the morning.”

The brothers were silent for a moment, the silence of the bunker enveloping them. Finally, Dean stood up and refilled his glass. “Come on, Sammy. Tomorrow, we need to make her feel even more at home.”

Chapter Text

The soft sound of pans clicking together and the sizzle of bacon in the pan filled the bunker kitchen. Dean blinked sleepily as he stumbled into the hallway, his feet dragging on the cold floor. He pulled his plaid pyjama pants up a little higher and rubbed his face.

The smell of freshly fried eggs and toast filled his half-asleep brain. He frowned. It was too early for Sam to be in the kitchen, and he was sure he hadn’t cooked himself.

When he entered the kitchen, Dana was standing by the stove, her small hands busy flipping bacon in the pan. She was wearing one of Sam’s oversized sweaters, and her feet dangled above the floor as she stood on a stepladder to reach the counter.

Dean paused in the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. “Dana?”

She looked up, her eyes darting straight to his face. Her gaze was attentive, almost tense. “Good morning,” she said softly. “I hope you like bacon.” Dean frowned. “What…what are you doing?”

“Making breakfast,” she replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world. She turned back to the pan and put the bacon strips on a plate. “I wanted to make sure everything was ready when you woke up.”

Dean stepped further into the kitchen, his gaze fixed on her. “Why? You don’t have to do that, Dana. You don’t have to cook anything.” Dana put the plate of bacon on the table and shrugged. “I want to do it. It’s what I’m used to.”

Sam entered the kitchen, his hair still tangled from sleep. “What smells so good in here?” He stopped short when he saw Dana at the stove. “Dana? Did you make all this?” She nodded, her gaze still uncertain. “I…yes. That’s okay, right?”

Dean looked at Sam, his gaze filled with worry, then turned back to Dana. “Honey, listen…you don’t have to do anything here. You’re here to be safe. To be a child. We take care of you, not the other way around.”

Dana looked down at her feet, as if trying to hide something. “I always had to cook at home,” she said softly. Dean froze. “What do you mean, home?”

She shrugged, her voice barely audible. “At my aunt and uncle’s. If I didn’t cook or clean, I didn’t get any food. And you have given me food several times now without anything from me in return…”

The kitchen fell silent. Dean felt his fists clench automatically, while Sam took a deep breath to control his anger. Sam slowly crouched down so he was at eye level with Dana. “They made you… cook and clean? And if you didn’t, they left you without food?”

Dana nodded, without looking up. “They told me to be grateful I had a roof over my head. That I had to earn my food.” Dean cursed softly under his breath. “Those bastards...”

Sam put a hand on Dana’s shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “That’s not normal, Dana. That wasn’t okay. No one should ever say that to you.”

Dean walked over to the counter, his hands on the edge as he took a deep breath to control his anger. Then he turned, his gaze fixed on Dana. “Listen to me, kiddo. You don’t have to do anything here. You get food because you deserve it, just for being here. Do you understand?”

Dana looked at him uncertainly. “But… I want to help.” Dean walked over to her and knelt down. “You’re helping us just by being here. That’s enough.”

Sam nodded. “You don’t have to prove anything, Dana. This is your home now. You belong here.”

Dana looked from Sam to Dean, her gaze searching hers. “Really?”

Dean nodded. “Really. And if you ever need anything, just ask. No conditions, no demands. Okay?” Dana slowly began to smile, a small, fragile smile. “Okay.”

Dean stood up and patted her head gently. “But while you’re at it...” He winked at her. “Where’s the bacon? I’m starving.”

Dana giggled softly and handed him the plate of bacon.

***

Dean stood in the War Room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. The room was filled with the soft glow of the lamplight, and in the background, the low rumble of the bunker’s ventilation. He looked up at Sam, who was standing across the table, Dana beside him.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” Dean said, his voice flat. “But no promises.”

Sam nodded and leaned toward Dana. “Hey, do you want a tour of the bunker? There are some really cool rooms you haven’t seen yet.”

Dana looked up, her eyes a little reserved. But curiosity overcame her uncertainty, and she nodded. “Okay.”

Sam smiled and held out his hand to her. “Come on. Dean’s got his ‘serious phone call’ face on, and that might take a while.”

Dana let Sam lead her, glancing back at Dean, who was already scrolling through the contact list on his phone. Dean sighed deeply as they disappeared from view, and finally tapped Rowena’s name.

The phone rang a few times before it was answered.

“Ah, Dean Winchester,” came Rowena’s delicate voice. Her Scottish accent carried a tone of playful disdain. “What a surprise. And what can I do for the Great and Ruthless Hunter today?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Rowena, this time it’s not about a monster. It’s… more complicated.”

There was a curious hum on the other end of the line. “What kind of ‘complicated’? Do you need a spell or do you just want my charming company?”

“It’s about a girl,” Dean said immediately, his voice a mix of seriousness and frustration. “Her name is Dana. She’s nine years old, and it seems she has… magic.” There was a moment of silence. Then Rowena’s voice came again, softer and more curious. “Magic, you say? What kind of magic?”

“We don’t know for sure. She’s been making things move without meaning to. Castiel has confirmed that it’s not demonic or angelic stuff. He says it’s purely human.”

“Ah,” Rowena said, her tone now full of understanding. “That sounds like what we in the magical world call ‘uncontrolled magic’. It’s common in young children with magical talents, especially when they’re under stress or feeling unsafe. It’s perfectly normal, though it can be quite… chaotic.”

Dean frowned. “So you’re saying this isn’t so strange?”

“For someone like you, perhaps, darling,” Rowena said dryly. “But in the magical world, it’s the first indication that a child has extraordinary talents. The real question is: why hasn’t the magical community picked her up?” Dean hesitated. “We found her at the side of the road and she was dumped by her uncle…long story there but about the magic stuff, we have no idea. Castiel told us about a secret community and well…that’s why I’m calling you. We just want to know how the world works and what we can expect from her. And how we can protect her.”

Rowena laughed softly. “Protect, you say? How surprisingly noble. Okay, I’m intrigued. Where do you want to meet?”

Dean hesitated for a moment. “In the bunker. Can you come here?” “Why not? I assume you’re not going to try to imprison me like the last time I helped you?”

“Just show up, Rowena,” Dean grumbled. “I’m grumpy enough without your sarcasm.”

Rowena laughed again. “See you soon, darling.”

With a click, the connection broke. Dean sighed deeply and looked at the empty space before him. This was going to be interesting.

***

Jody Mills sat at her kitchen table, her laptop open in front of her, a cup of coffee within reach. The morning sun was streaming through the curtains, but her gaze remained fixed on the screen. She had spent the last few hours searching for information about the Dursley family—the people who had left Dana Potter behind in a foreign land as if she were a piece of luggage.

She took a sip of coffee and continued typing. The Dursley flight information confirmed what she already knew: they had flown back to England two days ago. But it was what she found next that made her frown.

“Grunnings Drills,” she mumbled, reading the company name on her screen. “They’ve been here on a business deal.”

She scrolled through the pages of a local business directory. Vernon Dursley, Grunnings’ director, had met with an American construction in Kansas company to discuss a merge. It was all business and routine—except for one small detail.

“And they’re taking their entire family with them for a merge that maybe will go through?” Jody shook her head. “That’s not right.”

She continued typing, her fingers moving faster across the keyboard. When she typed in the name “Dana Potter,” she got almost nothing back. There were no birth records, no obituaries of her parents, and certainly no news reports of their deaths.

“That’s strange...” Jody leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on the screen. “A family dies and there’s no trace? No police investigation, no newspaper articles?”

She tried more variations of the search, but the result was the same: silence. All she could find was a short obituary for Lily and James Potter in an old British newspaper—barely more than a few lines. She put down her cup of coffee and picked up her phone. Dean had to know this.

Dean answered after a few rings, his voice sharp as ever. “Jody. What do you have for me?”

“You’re not going to like this,” Jody began bluntly. “I found information about the Dursleys. They were here to negotiate with an American company about a merge.”

Dean sighed audibly on the other end of the line. “So it was just for work?” “Yes,” Jody confirmed. “But listen, Dean. I tried to find out more about Dana’s parents,” Jody said slowly. “Lily and James Potter. But there’s almost nothing. No official death certificate, no news articles about their deaths, nothing about an accident or crime. Just a short obituary, with no details.”

Dean was silent for a moment. “That’s to be expected. We have just found out she is likely magical. The world she is from is secluded and not easily found for non-magical people like you and me.” Jody leaned back in her chair. “Right. Well, that certainly changes things. What are you going to do now?”

“We have called in an expert. Rowena, a witch. We will take it from there. Thanks Jody, for what you have done.”

***

Sam walked Dana through the long corridors of the bunker, his steps steady and his tone warm as he showed her everything. Dana stayed close to him, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in the impressive space.

“You have your room, of course,” Sam began with a smile, “but this here is our library. One of my favorite places.”

He opened a heavy steel door, and Dana stared open-mouthed at the rows of books that stretched as far as she could see. The old, leather-bound volumes looked mysterious and precious as if they held secrets from another world.

“Wow,” she whispered.

“Everything we ever wanted to know about monsters, magic, and strange happenings, we found here,” Sam explained. “You can read whatever you want here. If you need help, just ask.”

Dana glanced at one of the shelves, her gaze settling on a thick book with gold lettering on the spine. “Can I… can I really read everything?” she asked hesitantly.

“Sure,” Sam said reassuringly. “We even have some lighter books if you’d rather read a story. But if you’re curious about magic, we have plenty of that too.”

Dana nodded quietly, her fingers itching to grab a book from the shelf, but she stayed close to Sam as they walked. “Here’s the training room,” he continued, showing another room. She stopped at a rack of weapons and stared at them, not with fear but with a kind of fascination. Sam stayed close.

“That’s more Dean’s thing,” he explained. “I can tell you more about it later if you want.” Dana nodded slowly, but quickly moved on as Sam took the lead.

Finally, they came to the common room. “This is where we usually relax,” Sam said. “It’s not much, but the couches are comfortable, and the TV is old but still works fine.” Dana sat down carefully on one of the benches. She looked around, her gaze softening slightly.

“So? What do you think?” Sam asked with a smile. She shrugged, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her true thoughts. “It’s… big.” Sam nodded. “It certainly is. But it’s also safe.”

Sam and Dana sat together in the common room, where Dana was carefully leafing through one of the books she had brought from the library. It was a thin, simple book, and Sam had picked it out for her to start with. He watched her concentrate, her small fingers carefully turning the pages.

Dean stepped into the room, a little awkwardly but with a sharp gaze as always. His eyes fell on Dana, who immediately froze when she saw him. Dean sighed and tried to soften his tone. “Hey, Sammy. We have a problem.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “I was just in the pantry,” Dean began, his gaze sliding from Sam to Dana. “And it turns out our supplies consist mainly of beer, chips… and whiskey.”

Sam chuckled. “The food of champions.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well… that’s not exactly the ideal diet for a little girl.” Dana looked up from her book, her expression uncertain. “Is the food gone?”

Dean looked at her and softened his tone immediately. “No, kiddo, it’s not gone. But what we have isn’t exactly… healthy. Or suitable for someone like you.” Dana nodded slowly and closed her book. She glanced at Sam and then back at Dean. “What are we going to eat then?”

Dean smiled. “That’s exactly why I’m here. We have to go grocery shopping.” He looked at her with a crooked grin. “Do you want to come with me? You can pick out something yourself.”

Chapter Text

The house on Privet Drive exuded the same neat, stuffy perfection as ever. Inside, there was a silence that might seem normal to an outsider, but felt heavier to the occupants, something they didn’t want to name.

Vernon Dursley sat at the dining table, his newspaper unfolded and a mug of tea beside him, just as it always was. His face was set, but not with anger – with relief. The tension that Dana always brought with her, that suffocating feeling that everything she touched threw their neat world out of balance, was gone.

“Normal at last,” he muttered softly to himself, sipping his tea. No more weirdness. No more worrying about who would notice her strange behavior. The idea that he had left her behind felt more like a solution than a burden. He had done what was necessary. She didn’t fit in with them – she never did.

In the living room, Petunia sat on the couch, her hands resting on her knees, her gaze blank. She heard Vernon in the kitchen, but didn’t react. She knew what he’d done, and though she tried to convince herself it was right, a pang of doubt gnawed at her.

“She’s just like Lily,” she mumbled almost inaudibly. “Trouble. Always trouble.”

In a modest house across Privet Drive, Arabella Figg, a gray-haired woman with keen perception, sat at her kitchen table. Her cats lay scattered about the room, their eyes half-closed but their ears alert. Arabella looked out of the window, her gaze fixed on Number Four.

She had seen the Dursleys come home. Three people stepped out of the car: Vernon with his usual angry look, Petunia with her nose in the air, and Dudley rushing inside with a thud. But there was no one else. No girl with tousled black hair and a shy demeanor. No Dana.

Arabella had been the unofficial watchdog of Privet Drive for years. She knew the secrets of the magical world, and she knew who Dana really was. She knew, too, how terribly the Dursleys treated her—the shabby clothes, the harsh words, the way they ignored her as if she were less than the cats that now padded softly around Arabella’s feet.

She had gone to Albus Dumbledore many times, written letters, and sent pleas. “She’s not being treated well there,” she had written. But Dumbledore had always brushed her off, told her it was important that Dana stayed there for her protection. Protection? Arabella snorted. What was the point of protection if the child wasn’t even getting a childhood?

Arabella picked up her quill and a piece of parchment. Her hand shook with anger and frustration as she began to write:

Professor Dumbledore,

I am writing to you with great concern. The Dursleys have returned from America but without Dana. The girl has disappeared. You know as well as I do that she was never wanted there and that her treatment was shameful. I have reported this all these years, but you have chosen not to intervene. And now she is gone. What happened? Where is she? Is she safe?

I have kept my mouth shut for so long and trusted your judgment, but this is going too far. You are her guardian. It is your responsibility to find her and make sure she gets what she deserves: a home, love and protection. I demand that you take action, and I demand that you take action, and I demand that you do so immediately."

She signed her name at the bottom with a firm gesture and folded the letter into an envelope. She called one of her cats, Mr. Tibbles, who stretched and purred toward her. “It is time to deliver this letter,” she said softly.

As she walked to her window and handed the envelope to Mr. Tibbles, she cast one last glance at the Dursley house.

***

The soft clatter of shopping carts on the tiled floor and the murmur of other shoppers filled the supermarket. Dean pushed the cart with a mix of determination and mild irritation, while Sam walked quietly beside him with Dana on his other side.

Dana held Sam’s hand, but her grip was less tight than it had been earlier that morning. She looked around with wide eyes, a mix of curiosity and uncertainty on her face. This was clearly a very different experience than what she was used to.

Dean looked at the cart, which so far was filled with a modest supply: a few cans of beer, a bag of chips, and a box of cereal. He shook his head and sighed. “Okay, Dana,” he began, looking at her with a crooked smile. “You’re in charge now. What do you want for dinner?”

Dana looked at him hesitantly. “I get to choose?”

Dean nodded. “Yep. Anything you want.”

“Anything?” she asked, her eyes wide. Sam squeezed her hand gently. “Everything, Dana. This is for you. Let’s stock the pantry.”

Dana thought for a moment, then gently tugged on Sam’s hand. “Can we… go to the bakery?”

Dean grinned. “That sounds like a good idea. Bring it on.” At the bakery, Dana paused at the display case of freshly baked bread and pastries. She stared wide-eyed at the croissants, muffins, and donuts.

“Which one do you want?” Sam asked softly. Dana hesitantly pointed to a box of chocolate muffins. “Those?”

Dean picked up the box and placed it in the shopping cart. “Those are yours.” Dana smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

Dean looked at her and winked. “But if you think we’re leaving the grocery store with just muffins, you’re wrong. We need to get some serious food.”

The trek through the grocery store quickly became a mission. Dean let Dana take the lead, and though she was a little hesitant at first, she quickly began to choose with more confidence. She picked out fruits—apples, grapes, even a watermelon—and Dean placed them all in the cart without question.

In the dairy aisle, she pointed to a bottle of chocolate milk.

“Good choice,” Dean said, grabbing the bottle and placing it in the cart. “No breakfast is complete without chocolate milk.” Sam grinned. “Let’s make sure she picks some veggies, too.”

Dana looked around the produce aisle and pointed to carrots and broccoli. “Broccoli?” Dean asked, raising his eyebrows. “You know that’s green, right?”

Dana giggled. “I like it.” Dean shook his head, laughing. “Okay then. Broccoli it is.”

At the cookies and candy aisle, Dana paused, hesitating. “You can choose cookies, too,” Sam said softly. Dana’s eyes lit up. She picked up a pack of chocolate chip cookies and then looked at Dean. “Is this okay?”

Dean pretended to think hard and shrugged. “Hmm… I don’t know. Maybe we should have another one. Just to be safe.” Dana laughed and grabbed another pack of cookies.

When they finally reached the checkout, the shopping cart was filled to the brim. Dean looked at it with a satisfied look. “That looks better.” Sam laughed softly. “This looks more like a family’s supply.” Dana looked proudly at everything she had chosen. “Are we going to take all of this?”

“Everything,” Dean confirmed. “And if you forgot something, we’ll just get it next time.”

As they walked back to the Impala, Dana helped with the bags so Dean could load the bags in the trunk. “Good job, kiddo,” Dean said as he closed the trunk. “Our pantry is never going to be empty again.”

Chapter Text

The Impala drove smoothly over the deserted roads. They had spent a long time at the supermarket and it was getting dark now, and the lights of the car cast long shadows across the trees along the side of the road. Dana sat in the back, her small fingers playing with the edge of her coat.

Dean watched her through the rearview mirror. “How’s it going back there, Chief?” he asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Dana looked up and smiled a little. “Good.”

Sam turned halfway in his seat. “You made a good choice at the store today. Do you think you’ll like it in the bunker?” Dana nodded, though her eyes were a little shy again. “It’s really big. But… it feels safe.”

Dean chuckled softly. “Yeah, safe, until you find out Sam leaves his clothes everywhere.”

“Seriously?” Sam gave his brother an exasperated look.

“Just a warning,” Dean said with a sanctimonious smile.

When they arrived at the bunker, Dean got out first. He went to the trunk to grab the groceries while Sam helped Dana out.

A woman stood outside the bunker causing Dana to stop short. Her gaze settled on the woman waiting outside the bunker. She looked like she had stepped straight out of a storybook: a tall, elegant woman with flaming red hair that fell in perfect curls over her shoulders. Her eyes were fierce and sharp as if she could see through everything and everyone. Her dress—a deep purple, with velvety accents—seemed more suited to a castle than a bunker. And the way she stood, with a subtle confidence, almost made the space seem like hers.

Dana suddenly felt small and nervous. “Who’s that?” she whispered to Sam.

Before Sam could answer, the woman herself broke the silence. “Ah, the big and tough Winchester brothers,” she said in a Scottish accent that sounded like music, but with an edge to it.

Dean rolled his eyes. “What are you doing here, Rowena?” he asked, even though he had been the one to call her. Rowena raised a perfectly formed eyebrow and smiled sharply. “You called me, my boy. Or is your memory as bad as your manners?” She glanced at Dana, who was half hiding behind Sam. “And what do we have here? A new member of your… charming household?”

Dean gave her a look of disdain. “I know what I said. But it doesn’t mean you have to act like the queen here.”

Rowena feigned deep hurt. “Ah, and I thought we were friends. But tell me, Dean, how did you plan on helping this little witch without my expertise? Or did you plan on training her magic with… say, your usual method of brute force and dumb luck?”

Dean’s mouth turned down in an exasperated smirk. “Brute force works better than your spell books full of nonsense.” Sam sighed deeply and gave Rowena a polite smile. “What Dean is trying to say is that we’re glad you’re here to help.” He gave his brother a warning look. “Can you just act nice for a second?”

Rowena laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, Sammy, you’re always such a lifesaver. Your brother’s just awkward. It’s hard for him to deal with women who are smarter and more powerful than he is.”

Dean opened his mouth to retort, but Sam raised his hand. “Enough.” Dana looked from one to the other, her gaze full of confusion. “Why… do you guys talk like that?” she asked softly.

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s just how we deal with Rowena, kiddo. She likes to annoy people.”

“You give me enough material,” Rowena said with a playful smile. Sam crouched down so that he was at eye level with Dana. “Don’t worry, Dana. This is… their way of teasing each other. Rowena can help us learn more about your magic.”

Dana looked at Rowena, her gaze hesitant. “She’s a witch?”

Rowena smiled widely and nodded. “And a very good one, my dear. Don’t worry, I’m here to help you.” Dana nodded slowly but remained close to Sam.

***

The group had gathered at the large table in the library. Dana sat quietly in a chair next to Sam. Rowena stood with an air of confidence, a cup of tea in her hands as she spoke.

“Let me give you a little history lesson,” Rowena began, her tone both dramatic and didactic. “The magical world has been a secret for centuries. Not because we hate non-magical people so much—though some of you make it hard to be nice—but because it was once necessary.”

Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Necessary? Sounds more like you just didn’t want to share.” Rowena sighed as if he were an impatient student. “Ah, Dean, always so simple-minded. Think back to your own history. What did your non-magical friends do in the Middle Ages with people who were different?”

Sam frowned. “The witch hunts.” Rowena nodded, her gaze sharp. “Exactly. And while many of the victims were innocent, the hysteria forced the magical community to retreat into the shadows. They built a world next to yours, hidden and safe. And they have kept it that way ever since.”

Dana looked up, her voice soft. “So… no one knows about magic?”

Rowena looked at her for a moment, her expression softening slightly. “Not entirely, my dear. There are always exceptions. Families where magic and non-magic come together, or situations where we’ve been… shall we say, careless. But generally speaking, the non-magical people, the muggles as some call them, know nothing of our world.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Muggles? Seriously?” Sam ignored him and leaned forward. “So there are more children like Dana?”

Rowena’s face turned serious. “Children like Dana—born with magic but raised in a non-magical environment—are not uncommon. Magic is often a matter of blood, but it sometimes manifests unexpectedly. That’s why we have schools.”

She took a sip of her tea and continued. “All over the world, there are magical schools where children are taken as soon as they’re old enough. There, they learn control, discipline, and how to use their powers without setting fire to everything around them.”

Dana looked at Rowena with wide eyes. “Are there many schools?”

“A handful spread across the continents,” Rowena replied. “Would you like me to name them?” Dana nodded shyly. “Yes please ma’am.”

Rowena smirked at that and started naming the schools. “Well, let's see, we have Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in Scotland. Then we have Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in Massachusetts. The third one is Durmstrang Institute, high in the North of Europe. We have Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, they are located in the South of France.”

She paused and took a sip of her tea. “Next one is Castelobruxo in Brazil. The Russians have Koldovstoretz and the Azian children go to Mahoutokoro School of Magic in Japan.”

Dean frowned. “So these are the schools. Dana is born in England, so that will mean she has to go to Hoggywarts?” Sam snorted at Rowena’s look of expiration. “Hogwarts, my boy. And yes. She will eventually receive a letter.” Dean looked skeptical. “So how does that work?”

“Hogwarts uses a very old system. As soon as a child is born with magical blood, their name appears in a large register kept in the headmaster’s office.” Dana’s eyes widened. “So… my name is there too?”

Rowena smiled softly. “Yes, dear.” Dean leaned forward on the table. “And then what? Will the child be picked up right away or something?”

Rowena shook her head. “No. The process is less dramatic than that. Hogwarts sends a letter to the child in question as they approach their eleventh year. The letter is an invitation to join the school and contains all the information they need—what books to buy, where to get their wands, that sort of thing.”

“A letter,” Dean repeated with a hint of sarcasm. “A regular letter?”

“It’s not a regular letter, Dean,” Sam said, his eyes sparkling with interest. “It’s a magical letter that always gets to the right child, no matter where they are?”

Rowena nodded. “Correct Samuel. And in some cases, if a child is from a Muggle family, Muggleborns, is what they are called, the school will send a representative to reassure the parents and explain.”

Dean leaned back in his chair and let that sink in. “A Muggleborn? Are there more versions?” Rowane counted on her fingers, “Purebloods, Halfbloods and Muggleborns.”

“So you’re saying Dana would get a letter one day? Out of the blue?” Sam cut in. Rowena’s expression turned a little more serious. “If the school can find her in time, yes.”

Dana looked at Sam and Dean, her voice small but curious. “But… what if I don’t want to go?”

Dean turned to her and smiled reassuringly. “Then you don’t have to go, kiddo. No one is going to send you anywhere you don’t want to go.” He looked back to Rowena. What happens if she does want to go and she finishes school, what then?

Rowena shrugged. “It depends on the person. Some stay in the magical community, others live a double life between magic and the normal world. It’s not as black and white as you might think.”

Dean twirled the pen he was holding between his fingers and looked sharply at Rowena. “Okay, that all sounds wonderful—magical letters, wands, and schools where kids learn to fly brooms.” He tapped the pen on the table. “But here’s my question: How come we’ve never seen any of this? Sam and I have spent our entire lives hunting things. Witches, demons, ghosts… But this?” He shook his head. “This whole magical world thing? No sign of it.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “We’ve seen plenty of witches who perform blood rituals and curse people. But we’ve never found anything even remotely like what you’re describing. How come?”

Rowena leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, a wry smile on her lips. “Ah, boys. You hunt on the edge of the magical world, in the shadows where the darkest things lurk. But that doesn’t mean you see the whole picture.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked suspiciously.

Rowena’s smile widened. “The magical community—like Hogwarts, the British Ministry of Magic, and similar organizations around the world—is almost completely hidden from Muggles. Whether you’re regular humans or hunters, it makes no difference. They’ve spent centuries developing their own methods of remaining invisible. Spells, barriers, memory spells…” She glanced at Dana. “All to protect themselves.”

Dana listened intently, her eyes wide with curiosity. “So… people don’t know there are wizards?”

Rowena shook her head. “Most don’t. And those who do—like Muggle parents of magical children—are subject to very strict rules. They’re not allowed to tell, they’re not allowed to write anything down. The magical community protects itself with ironclad laws.”

Dean sighed and rubbed his face. “So this whole ‘hidden world’ thing is real?”

“More than you can imagine,” Rowena said. “And that’s why you’ve never found anything. Wizards have no interest in wandering around your world. They keep to themselves. And honestly…” She looked at them searchingly. “They would see you as a threat.”

“A threat?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Why?” Rowena looked straight at him. “Because you’re hunters. Your approach is clear: if it’s supernatural and dangerous, you destroy it.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “We destroy it if it hurts people.”

“I know,” Rowena said quietly. “But the magical world doesn’t see any difference. To them, you’re… dangerous. Unpredictable. That’s why they stay hidden.”

Sam nodded slowly. “That explains why we’ve never found anything about magical governments or schools.”

“Exactly.” Rowena stood up and began to walk slowly across the room. “The Ministry of Magic, for example, has a department specifically tasked with covering up magical incidents. Whenever something magical happens in the Muggle world—an accident, a spell gone wrong, a creature seen—they make sure it’s erased. Muggles don’t remember anything.”

Dean looked at Sam in frustration. “So they can just erase our memories? Like that?” Rowena nodded calmly. “Yes. They call it an Obliviate spell. And believe me, it happens more often than you think.”

Dana looked at Rowena, her voice soft. “But… why would they do that? Why do they want to stay hidden?”

Rowena’s gaze softened as she looked at the girl. “Because they’re afraid. Afraid that if Muggles ever find out how much power wizards have, there will be war. It’s happened before.”

Sam leaned forward. “You mean the witch burnings?” Rowena nodded. “Among other things. But even then, Muggles didn’t know the whole story. The magical world has always kept itself closed off for fear of persecution. And now, with technology and weapons…” She let her words hang for a moment. “They’d still have that same fear.”

Dean sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. “So what you’re saying is that we’ve been chasing blind spots our entire lives.” Rowena smiled. “Not exactly. You’ve done your job well. But you’ve only seen a fraction of the magical world.”

Dana looked at Dean curiously. “So… no one in the magical world knows you exist?”

Dean grinned crookedly. “Probably not. And I’m actually pretty okay with that.” Rowena nodded in agreement. “And let’s keep it that way. Because believe me, if they ever hear that the Winchesters are meddling in their business…”

“We’ll be in trouble,” Sam added.

“Big trouble,” Rowena confirmed with a smile. Dana looked between them and chuckled softly. “I think you’re used to trouble.” Dean looked at her, his grin widening. “You have no idea, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

Dana had gone to bed after dinner, exhausted from the day, while Sam, Dean, and Rowena remained in the library. Dean took a sip and looked at her. “So,” he began, his voice low, “tell me. What’s the story with all those bloodlines you were talking about earlier? Purebloods, half-bloods, Muggle-borns… What does it all mean?”

Rowena looked up. “Ah, yes. The great obsession of the magical world: blood.” She walked slowly to the table and sat down across from Dean. “Most wizards place great value on their lineage. It’s an age-old debate that still rages on.”

Sam looked up from his notes. “And how exactly does that work?”

Rowena leaned her elbows on the table and began to explain. “A pureblood is a wizard or witch who is descended exclusively from magical families. Their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents — all wizards. Many old families pride themselves on their ‘pure blood’.”

Dean pulled a face. “Sounds like a bunch of elitist snobs.”

Rowena smiled. “They often are. Pureblood families value tradition and status immensely. But there are fewer and fewer of them because they often intermarried to keep their bloodline pure. That caused problems.”

Sam frowned. “Problems?”

“Inbreeding,” Rowena said dryly. “Many pureblood families started to show magical flaws. Weaker magic, mental instability... Some even died out.” Dean sighed. “So they made a mess of it themselves.”

“Exactly,” Rowena said. “And then you have the half-bloods. They are wizards and witches who have one magical parent and one Muggle parent. Many wizards today are half-bloods. Even some of the greatest wizards in history were.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Like?”

“Albus Dumbledore,” Rowena said with a small smile. “He is the current Headmaster of Hogwarts.” Dean took another sip of his whiskey. “And Muggle-borns?”

Rowena’s gaze softened. “Muggle-borns are born into non-magical families but have magical powers of their own. It’s more common than you think. The magic can lie dormant for generations and then suddenly come out.”

Sam quickly wrote something down in his notebook. “And Dana?” he asked without looking up. “What is she?”

Rowena paused, her gaze directed toward the door where Dana lay sleeping. “We don't know that for sure. Sam tore a page out of his notebook. “She has a scar on her forehead. I saw it the first night we met her, but there were more important matters at that moment so I didn’t mention it before. It has an unusual shape. Do you know what it might be?”

“It looks familiar,” Rowena said, her voice soft but piercing. “Like I’ve seen it before…or heard of it. But I can’t place it. Remember, my powers are vastly different than Dana’s and I never went to Hogwarts or any of the other schools. I don’t use a wand and I don’t use their spells.”

“A scar is a scar,” Dean grumbled. “What does it matter?” Sam looked thoughtfully. “We don’t know how she got it. Maybe she fell, maybe it's something else. It's just, the shape of it alone is weird. Maybe it’s magical?” He looked at Rowena. “There’s someone I can ask about it. Someone with… extensive knowledge of these things.”

Dean grunted. “Let me guess. Your son, Crowley.” Rowena smiled slyly. “Ah, Dean, you know he’s always handy with these things. If anyone knows what that scar means, it's the King of Hell."

Dean threw up his hands in frustration. "Great. Yeah, let's call the demon. I'm sure that's a good idea." Sam sighed. "Dean, if he can help... we should try. It's about Dana." Dean looked at his brother, his jaw tense. "I know, Sammy. But Crowley? Seriously?"

Rowena took a sip of her tea and stood up. "Whatever it is, you need someone who can see beyond basic magic. And Crowley has access to knowledge that even I don't have. But," she grinned crookedly, "I'll let you have that conversation. She's your girl, not mine."

***

The brothers stood in the bunker’s library, with Rowena on one side of the table. The air smelled faintly of sulfur, and the candles in the room still flickered from the summoning spell. Dean set down the metal chalice and wiped his hands on his pants.

In the center of the room stood Crowley, dressed in his usual black-and-gray suit, his usual grin on his face. He looked at them one by one, his expression slightly mocking.

“Ah, the Winchesters,” Crowley said, straightening his tie. “I thought my day was going too slowly.” His gaze slid to Rowena. “Mother. As always a… delight.” Rowena snorted. “Spare me your pleasantries, Fergus. We don’t have time for your charming act.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed briefly at the sound of his old name, but he quickly recovered. His attention turned to Dean, who was holding up a sketchbook with the image of Dana’s scar.

“We want to know what this is,” Dean said bluntly. “It’s a scar and it’s on someones forehead.” Crowley stepped forward and took the sheet. His eyes took in every detail of the drawing, and slowly the corner of his mouth curled upward in a smile. “Ah… now this is getting interesting.”

“This,” he began, tapping the sketch with his finger, “is no ordinary scar. This is the remnant of one of the most infamous dark spells in the magical world: the Killing Curse. Also known as… Avada Kedavra.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “The Killing Curse? That doesn’t sound very friendly.”

“It’s not,” Crowley said dryly. “It’s a curse designed to be instantly fatal. No wound, no pain—just… death. It normally leaves nothing behind. No survivors. No scars.” He looked at them intently. “Except in very rare cases.”

Sam leaned forward slightly. “Rare cases?” Crowley nodded slowly. “It’s almost unheard of for someone to survive the Killing Curse. It’s pure, deadly magic designed to end someone’s life instantly.”

Dean felt his jaw tighten. “And yet she’s still alive.”

“Hmmm,” Crowley said. “That means there’s something very special about her. Something that protected her from a curse that no one should be able to survive.”

Rowena raised her eyebrows and looked at Crowley. “You think this is more than just accidental survival?” Crowley grinned weakly. “There’s nothing random about this kind of magic, Mother. If she survived this curse, that means she either has a very unique bloodline… or someone did something extraordinary to protect her.”

Sam looked at Crowley with a mixture of confusion and concern. “So the scar is more than just a wound?” Crowley nodded slowly. “It’s a mark. Proof that she was once the target of one of the darkest spells in existence. And the fact that she’s still alive makes her unique.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “So you know who she is.” Crowley shifted his gaze from Dean to Sam, and his grin returned, albeit a little less smug than usual. “Of course I do. And now I know she’s here.”

Rowena snorted. “And what are you planning to do, Fergus?” Crowley raised his hands in an innocent gesture. “Take it easy, Mother. I’m only here to help. But I’ll tell you this…” He looked back at Dean and Sam. “The magical world is not going to be happy when they find out Dana Potter is here in your care. And believe me, it won’t be long before they do.”

Sam looked at Dean and saw the same concern reflected in his gaze. This was bigger than they thought.

“So,” Dean began slowly, “what now?”

Crowley smiled broadly. “Now? Now you keep her safe. Because if this gets out… all hell will break loose. Literally.”

The library felt quieter than usual. Crowley’s departure had left a certain tension, and Dana was fast asleep in her room by now. Dean and Sam were sitting at the table, Rowena across from them, her gaze focused and her posture graceful but imbued with authority.

Dean leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face. “Okay, Rowena. If we’re going to understand this, let’s start with the basics.”

Rowena nodded and ran her fingers over the rim of her cup of tea. “Like any society, dear, the magical world has its own forms of government. In America, it’s the Magical Congress of the United States of America, or MACUSA, as they call it. They’re pretty strict, with laws that ensure the separation of wizards and non-magical folk—No-Majs, as they call them here. You could say they’re a tad paranoid, but given the history here, not without reason.”

Sam frowned. “What kind of history?”

Rowena smiled faintly. “Ah, witch burnings, attempted exterminations… The standard human response to what they don’t understand. MACUSA has had laws in place centuries ago to limit any contact with the No-Maj community. Even inter-world relations are forbidden. There are severe penalties for those who dare.”

Dean snorted. “That sounds like a bunch of control freaks.”

Rowena raised a perfectly formed eyebrow. “Control is necessary sometimes, Dean. Chaos is… unpleasant. But that’s beside the point. Things are different in Britain. There, the Ministry of Magic rules. They’re less rigid, but no less secretive. Their job is similar: to keep the magical world hidden from the Muggles, as they say there.”

“But we know have knowledge, so where does that leave us? Are we in trouble with MACUSA?” Sam asked. Rowena shook her head. “Probably not. MACUSA rarely interferes outside their borders unless there’s an immediate danger. But the problem, my dear boys, is that Dana is still technically under the jurisdiction of the British Ministry, because she was born there. And someone like Albus Dumbledore will undoubtedly claim her once he sees her scar.”

Dean’s face tightened. “Why? The Headmaster? What does he want from her?” Rowena sipped her tea, her voice suddenly sharp. “Dumbledore is a cunning man. He has always had grand plans for special children. But to claim her, he will need to have a stronger bond with her than you do. And that is where you come in.”

Sam looked curious. “What do you mean?”

Rowena put down her cup. “If you were to legally adopt her, it would greatly complicate any claim from the British Ministry or Dumbledore himself. She will be a Winchester, a citizen of this country, not a pawn in his games.”

Dean looked at her intently. “And what about that scar? Crowley said it draws attention. Can’t we… I don’t know, hide it or heal it?”

Rowena smiled bitterly. “That scar is magical. It is a mark, a sign of survival and power. Removing it would be dangerous, and hiding it… well, that would require a bit more specialist help.”

Sam frowned. “Like what?” Rowena looked at them intently. “Like the goblins. They are masters of magical inscriptions and objects. If anyone can help protect or mask that scar, it’s them. But,” she added, “goblins are not easy to convince. They are proud, stubborn, and extremely suspicious.”

Dean sighed. “Of course. Why should anything ever be easy?”

Rowena leaned back, a smile on her lips. “This is just the beginning, boys. But if you really want to take care of that girl, you must prepare yourselves for a very different world.”

Rowena looked at the brothers, her fingers resting on the rim of her cup of tea. “If you really want to negotiate with goblins, it’s important to understand who they are. Goblins aren’t people. They have their own laws, their own culture, and their pride. They only tolerate us because we need them, and they know it.”

Sam leaned forward. “And they run banks?”

Rowena nodded. “Not just any banks. Gringotts, their most famous institution in Britain, controls most of the magical wealth in Europe. Here in America, they have smaller branches, scattered throughout the magical high streets. And if you want to talk to them, that’s probably where you’ll have to do it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “High streets? So there are whole streets full of magical shops?”

“Of course,” Rowena said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Every magical community has at least one. In America, for example, you have Salem’s Ward in Massachusetts, which is particularly famous. In Britain, it’s Diagon Alley. But closer to home, we have Greenthistle Alley, a hidden street in Kansas City. There’s a branch of the goblin bank there.”

Dean shook his head. “Wait a minute. We’ve travelled all over the country for years and never seen one of those places?”

Rowena laughed softly. “They’re hidden, dear. You only see them if you know where to look. And if you’re welcome, of course.”

Sam looked doubtful. “And what exactly are we supposed to do at that bank?”

“That depends on what you want,” Rowena said. “The goblins are masters at managing magical properties, like vaults, but also at working on inscriptions and objects. If you want Dana’s scar protected or masked, they can probably do that. But like I said, they don’t do anything without a fee. And that fee usually doesn’t come cheap.”

Dean snorted. “Of course not. Anything that involves magic always costs a fortune.”

Rowena smiled. “That’s why I’m here. My presence would greatly improve your chances of success.” Sam looked at Rowena, then at Dean. “Rowena has a point. If we’re going to do this right, we need her.”

Dean glanced at Rowena, his lips set in a thin line. “Fine. But if this gets out of hand, it’s your responsibility.” Rowena rolled her eyes. “Of course, Dean. Always so charming.”

Sam stood up. “It’s late. Rowena, do you want to stay the night? Then we can all go to that Greenthistle Alley tomorrow morning.” Rowena smiled sweetly. “How thoughtful, Sam. A bed in a bunker full of weapons and no windows. What a luxury.”

Dean grunted something unintelligible and stood up too. “It’s just that we want to help the girl, otherwise… Oh, never mind. Sam, get her a room.” Sam shook his head, a smile on his lips. “I’ll make her something.”

While Sam showed her to a simple guest room so Rowena could prepared for the night, Dean waited in the kitchen until his brother came back.

Dean looked at his brother. “Why does this feel like we’re inviting a storm?”

Sam smiled. “Because maybe we are. But if we’re going to help Dana, we have to be willing to take risks.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Tomorrow morning, then. To Greenthistle Alley. Bring it on.”

Chapter Text

Morning dawned in the bunker with a quiet stillness, broken only by the faint clatter of the coffee pot in the kitchen. Sam and Dean were sitting at the kitchen table, where Rowena, wearing a perfectly applied coat of makeup and an elegant dress, looked at them as if she were addressing a group of troublesome schoolboys.

"Listen up, boys," she began, tapping her perfect nails on the table. "If we're going to Gringotts, it's essential that you behave. Be polite, no arguments, no snappy comebacks, and most of all, no weapons The goblins have a... complex relationship with the rest of the magical world."

Dean leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. "So you're telling us to behave as if we're on a bloody picnic?" Rowena shot him a sharp look. "What I'm saying, Dean Winchester, is that if you even think about pulling out one of those cute pistols of yours, you'll cause an incident of epic proportions. Goblins are brilliant, but they're also more dangerous than most demons you've ever encountered."

Sam nodded slowly. "And you're doing the talking?" Rowena smiled broadly. "Of course. I speak their language—literally and figuratively."

Dean rolled his eyes but otherwise kept his mouth shut. He knew Rowena was right, but it irritated him that she had to explain it to him in such a patronizing tone.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway interrupted their conversation. Dana stepped cautiously into the kitchen, her hair still messy from sleep and her eyes half-closed. She clearly needed some time to fully wake up.

"Good morning, sweetheart," Rowena said, her tone suddenly softer and warmer. "Ready for a special day?" Dana looked at her questioningly as she walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. "What are we going to do?" Dean smiled weakly. "We're going grocery shopping... sort of."

Sam pushed her a plate of eggs and toast. "Eat something first. Then we'll explain it to you." Dana nodded sleepily and began to eat slowly. As she ate, the adults continued to discuss the plan.

"So we're driving to Kansas City," Sam said, lifting his mug of coffee. "There's supposed to be a magical district there?" Rowena nodded. "Like in London with Diagon Alley. But it's invisible to normal people. Luckily, I can help you see through the barriers. It's easy."

"Why can Dana see it?" Dean asked, picking up his own plate. Rowena gave him a look that conveyed that his questions was utterly ridiculous. "Because she's part of that world, Dean. The magic is in her blood. But you? You need a... push."

Dana looked up from her breakfast. "Can I see something that's normally hidden?" Rowena smiled and nodded. "Absolutely, honey. You'll love it."

****

The Impala drove slowly down a busy street in Kansas City, the sun high in the sky. Dana sat quietly in the backseat, her eyes wide with curiosity. Next to her sat Rowena, calmly rummaging through a bag with runes on the side. She took out several stones. Dean parked the car on a quiet side street at Rowena’s direction and looked over at Sam. "So, how does this work?"

“Take these stones, hold them in your hand and wait a moment boys.” Rowena opened the door and got out, then raised her arms to the sky and muttered a few words in Latin. The air seemed to vibrate for a moment, as if it were a mirror being thrown into a stone. When the air stabilized, something had changed.

Where there had once been a plain wall, there was now a narrow passageway, with colorful storefronts and strange figures hurrying down the street. It was like stepping into a whole new world.

"Welcome, gentlemen," Rowena said, grinning widely. "To the magical district of Kansas City."

Dean stepped out of the car and stared wide-eyed at the transformation. It was as if someone had brought a painting to life. The streets were paved with smooth stones that glistened in the sun, while the storefronts were painted bright colors and had strange, ornate architecture. There were floating signs with moving letters, signs that spoke, and the air was filled with a mix of herbs, flowers, and what looked like burning wood.

Dana stood next to Rowena, her mouth open in amazement. She instinctively grabbed Sam’s hand, who was standing next to her on her other side, and looked at a store where a vibrant dragon of purple smoke was writhing through the air. “That’s really…” She searched for words. “Magical.”

Dean turned to Rowena, his eyebrows raised. “So, what exactly is this? A secret street full of wand-wielding people?”

Rowena smiled as if he had asked a stupid question. "Not just wand-wielding people, Dean. This is a community completely separate from your world. Here, wizards, witches, goblins, and other magical creatures come together to trade, learn, and live their lives without you knowing about it."

Sam nodded thoughtfully, looking around. "I can see why it has to be kept secret. This is… impressive."

"And dangerous too," Rowena added. "The magical district has rules. Break them, and you'll soon know." She gave Dean a knowing look. Dana tugged gently on Sam's hand. "Can I look in that shop?" She pointed to a small bookstore with a sign that appeared to show a cat washing itself, the animal making occasional purring movements.

"Later, little one," Rowena said softly. "First to the bank. Business before pleasure, as I always say."

She led them through the crowd. Magical families walked by, children in robes ran around with toy broomsticks, and a group of witches stood together in discussion with floating cups of tea. Dana stared, her curiosity barely under control.

"There it is," Rowena said suddenly, pointing to a building that looked as if it were made of gleaming copper. The building towered above the rest of the street, with heavy doors guarded by a small goblin. He wore a shiny suit and glared sternly at everyone who entered.

Dana looked at the building with wide eyes. "That's the bank?"

"Gringotts, my dear," Rowena said softly. "And believe me, you'll never forget it."

Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged slightly. "Well, let's do this then," Dean said with a sigh. "And remember, Rowena – if anything goes wrong, it's your fault." Rowena grinned broadly and led the group to the entrance.

Chapter Text

The bank’s heavy brass doors swung open with a deep, echoing groan as the little goblin pulled the handle. Dana stayed close to Sam, her eyes wide as she took in the imposing interior. The bank’s ceiling seemed to reach the heavens, decorated with intricate gold patterns that seemed to be in motion. Gleaming marble floors reflected the light of floating lamps, and dozens of goblins sat at long counters, writing, calculating, and serving customers.

A goblin with glasses balanced askew on his long nose walked toward them. He wore a tight, deep blue coat that seemed a little too big for him, and his manner was both stern and professional.

“Welcome to Gringotts, Kansas City,” he said, his voice sharper than expected. “My name is Axan. How may I help you?”

Rowena stepped forward, her chin held high. "Greetings master Goblin. My name is Rowena MacLeod. I am here with Sam and Dean Winchester and Dana Potter. We do not have an appointment. However, this girl," she gestured to Dana, "is here for an inheritance test. She is new to our world and needs guidance."

Axan looked at the group, his sharp eyes gleaming. He nodded slowly as if he had noticed something important. "Of course. Please follow me."

The group followed Axan down a marble hallway that led to a smaller, private room. A massive desk stood in the center, and old paintings of prominent goblins hung on the wall. Dana sat nervously in a chair, while the others stood around her.

Axan sat behind the desk and opened a large, dusty book. He quickly wrote something on a page, then pulled out a small silver bowl and a small knife.

"For the inheritance test, we need a drop of blood," he explained, looking at Dana. Sam knelt beside her and smiled reassuringly. "It's just a little prick. I'll stay with you."

Dana nodded, her lower lip trembling slightly. Axan made a quick, precise cut on her finger and caught a drop of blood in the bowl. As soon as the blood hit the bottom, it glowed bright red. Runes appeared on the side of the bowl, quickly translating into a list of names and information.

The goblin studied the runes intently. "Interesting... Very interesting," he muttered. Dean frowned. "What's interesting? That never sounds good."

Axan looked up, his face stern. "This child, Dana Lilian Potter, is the heiress of several ancient wizarding families. Her parents, Lily and James Potter, have left considerable estates, including property and a considerable amount of gold."

Rowena raised her eyebrows. "So her parents were of status?"

"Indeed," Axan confirmed. "Besides... there's something special about her."

He walked over to another device and pulled out a silver scepter. "I need to check something. Stay still, girl. This won't hurt."

Dana looked at Sam uncertainly, but remained seated as Axan brought the scepter to her forehead, right on the lightning-bolt scar. As the metal touched the scar, it glowed bright green and dark shadows shot across the room. A low, sinister growl rang out, and everyone flinched.

Axan hastily withdrew his hand. "I knew it," he whispered.

"What's that?" Dean asked sharply, pulling Dana closer to him. Axan looked at him, his gaze somber. "That scar... is a fragment of a soul. The child carries part of the soul of a dark wizard. It's a horcrux."

“A what now?” came both Sam and Dean’s question, while Rowena gasped.

Axan took a deep breath, his sharp face even more serious. "A Horcrux. An object that stores a fragment of someone's soul. It's used to evade death." Dean frowned at the scar on Dana's forehead. "You mean... that thing in her scar... is a piece of someone else?"

"Exactly," Axan replied with a small nod. "A Horcrux is dark magic of the worst kind. It requires murder to split a soul. Only the most evil of sorcerers would attempt it."

Dana cringed and looked at Sam, her eyes shining with tears. "Does that... mean I'm evil?" Sam crouched down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. "No, Dana. That doesn't mean you're evil at all. This isn't your fault. This is something that was done to you."

Dean sighed heavily and rubbed his face. "Who would do such a thing? And why to a child?" Rowena leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "If I may hazard a guess, the scar is from the hand of a dark wizard who tried to kill her. Voldemort.”

The name seemed to freeze the air. Axan looked sharply at Rowena. "You speak the name?"

Rowena nodded slowly. "I have heard of him, yes. And fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. Anyway, he was a dark wizard who sowed chaos in Britain, he is believed to be dead.” Axan frowned. "It is unknown why he specifically targeted the Potters. There has been speculation, but no one knows for sure why he targeted them."

Dean looked from Axan to Rowena. "What does it matter why? He attacked them, and now we have this problem." He waved at the scar on Dana’s head.

"It does matter," Rowena replied, her tone sharp. "Motives can reveal what he was after, and why Dana might still be in danger. Voldemort did nothing without a reason."

Dana pulled her knees up and looked at Rowena with wide eyes. "But I never knew him. Why would he want to hurt me?" Sam placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We don't know, Dana. But what we do know is that he didn't get you. And he never will."

Rowena looked at Axan. "If this is a Horcrux... how dangerous is it for her?"

"The danger is twofold," Axan said somberly. "The fragment of his soul can affect her mind, though it seems she hasn't had much trouble with it so far. But as long as the fragment remains, she will remain connected to him. If he were ever to return, he could possibly sense her presence."

Dean glared at the scar as if he could destroy it through sheer force of will. "So how do we get rid of it?"

Axan shook his head. "Destroying a Horcrux is extremely complex. It requires a powerful magical object or substance that can destroy even the soul itself. And even then, the process is dangerous."

"And Dana?" Sam asked, his voice soft. "What happens to her if that thing is destroyed?"

"If done correctly, she should be unharmed," Axan said. "But there are no guarantees. This kind of magic is rare, even in our world. I will look into the matter and get back to you.”

Rowena sighed and leaned against the wall. "This isn't something we can solve today. What we need to do now is protect her. Get her officially adopted and strengthen her position in the magical world. That's the first step." Dana looked uncertainly at Sam and Dean. "Adopt? What does that mean?"

Dean crouched down next to her, his green eyes soft but determined. "It means that we're officially taking care of you. That no one can take you away from us, that you're safe. Do you understand?"

Dana frowned, her gaze darting between Dean and Sam. "So... you want me to stay with you?"

Sam nodded, a warm smile on his face. "Yes, Dana. We really want that. But we want you to want that too. This is your choice."

Her bottom lip trembled as she let the words sink in. "But... I'm different. What if I cause trouble?" Dean let out a soft, husky laugh. "Kid, causing trouble is what we do. If you think you can outdo us, good luck to you."

She stared at him, a small smile on her face as she tried to figure out if he was joking. Finally, she nodded slowly. "Okay... I want it."

Rowena stepped forward, her eyes glittering with anticipation. "Master Goblin, is it possible to arrange the adoption immediately? And I don't mean just any piece of paper. I want this child to be completely protected. Can we do a blood adoption?"

Axan frowned and leaned forward slightly, his long fingers intertwined. "A blood adoption is a very ancient and powerful ceremony. It magically connects the child to the new family, as if she were part of them from birth. But it is not an easy process, especially for humans."

Sam looked at Rowena with concern. "What exactly does that entail? Is it... dangerous?"

Rowena shook her head calmly. "Not dangerous, but intense. It requires a magical ritual in which both the adoptive parents and the child offer their blood. The magic of the ceremony weaves their souls together and makes it impossible for anyone outside the family to take the child without permission."

Dean looked at Axan, his brows furrowed deeply. "How long does that take? And are there any risks to Dana?" Axan sighed and turned his sharp gaze on Dana. "For the child, it's usually safe, though it can be tiring. However, the parents will share some of their magical potential, even if they have no active magical powers, like you and your brother. The process can be emotionally and physically exhausting, but the result is unbreakable."
Rowena smiled confidently. "And it ensures that no one, and I mean no one, can challenge her legal status. Even Albus Dumbledore would think twice before messing with a blood adoption."

Dean took a deep breath and looked at Sam. "What do you think? I mean... it sounds like a lot of hassle, but if it keeps her safe..." Sam nodded slowly. "If this will keep her with us and protected, I think we should do it."

Axan stood and walked to a more intricately decorated door at the side of the room. "Come with me. If you are serious, we can do this now. I will prepare the necessary artifacts and the ritual seal. However, I do need to know which of you will be the actual parent. I will leave you to discuss.”

Sam looked at Rowena and Dana. “Dean and I need to go over a few things. Would it be okay to wait a moment?” Rowena smiled and Sam asked Axan if they had a room for him and Dean to discuss the adoption.

Axan led them to a chamber across the hall, where Dean leaned against the wall, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He looked at Sam, who was sitting at the table, studying Gringotts’s papers intently. The silence hung heavy in the air.

“We have to do this,” Sam finally said. His voice was calm but determined. “This is the only way to make sure no one can take her away from us.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know. But who’s going to do it?” Sam put the papers down and looked Dean straight in the eye. “You.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Why me?” Sam sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Because you’ve always been the one to protect people. You’re the one to keep things safe. You’re the one to set boundaries, to make it clear that she doesn’t have to be afraid anymore.”

Dean shook his head. “She clings to you more, Sam. You’re the one who reassures her the most.”

“That’s right,” Sam admitted. “But that’s not why you have to do this. She needs you for something else.”

Dean frowned. “Something else?” Sam looked at him with a look Dean had seen before—the look of his younger brother, the one who had always been the one to stay rational when Dean himself was lost in his emotions. “She needs someone to make her feel like she has a home. Someone to make sure she never has to wonder if she’s welcome again. And that’s you.”

Dean sighed deeply. “Sam…”

Sam continued. “You’ve always taken care of me, Dean. Even when we had nothing, you made it safe for me. You did it without thinking. And you’re doing it again now, for Dana.”

Dean remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Sam stood up and walked over to him. “I know this is hard. I know this isn’t something you asked for. But that’s exactly why you have to do it. Because you're always the one who takes responsibility, whether you like it or not."

Dean finally looked up. "What about you? Why not you?"

Sam smiled weakly. "Because you've always been the one who kept our family together. You're the protective wall we can lean against. She needs you as her father, Dean. Not because you're perfect, but because you know exactly what it means to fight for someone."

Dean swallowed and looked back at the papers on the table. "This is crazy, Sam. We've fought demons, slaughtered vampires, and now..." He shook his head with a small, surprised smile. "Now I'm adopting a girl."

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "And that's exactly what she needs."

Dean remained silent for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Okay. Let's do it." Sam smiled. "She deserves this. She deserves a real family." Dean looked down at the papers and took them in his hands. His gaze softened. "Yes. And we’ll make sure she gets it.”

He looked up at Sam and grinned weakly. “But if I have to deal with the magical world and their crazy rules, that’s your problem.”

Sam laughed softly. “Deal.”

Dean rolled his eyes and picked up the pen. “Okay, Sammy. Let’s get this madness over with.”

But there was a softness in his gaze, something he didn’t often show. A realization that he was doing exactly what he’d always done: keeping his family safe.

Both men returned to the room where Rowena and Dana waited. Sam cleared his throat and gave Dean a small nod as if encouraging him. Dean pulled his hands out of his pockets and slowly walked over to Dana. He crouched down so he could look at her eye level. Dean paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “You know we’re going to adopt you. But what you don’t know yet… is who your official father will be.”

Dana’s eyes widened. She looked between Dean and Sam again. “Oh.”

Dean kept his gaze on her, his voice softer than usual. “We’ve talked about it, and we think it’s better if I do. That I become your father.”

Dana looked at him for a moment, her gaze searching and silent. “You?” Dean nodded slowly. “Yes.”

She held his gaze for a few more seconds, her face hard to read. Then she lowered her gaze, still clutching her teddy bear tightly. “Why you?” Dean remained calm, waiting for her to look back at him. “Because I’m always here for you, kiddo. Because I want you to know that you’ll never be alone again. I’m going to make sure you’re safe, that you have a home.”

Dana’s voice was small when she spoke. “But you get angry a lot.”

Dean was visibly startled by her words, and Sam stepped forward as if to intervene. But Dean raised a hand to stop him.

“I know,” Dean said softly. “Sometimes I react strongly. But that’s because I always want to protect what’s important. And you are important, Dana. I’ll work on being better. Calmer.” He smiled weakly. “And if I do get too angry, you’ll have Sam to remind me to tone it down.”

Dana’s lips slowly curled into a small smile. “I can say something then?”

Dean nodded. “Always.” Dana thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “So… you’re going to be my dad?”

Dean swallowed and nodded again. “Yes, if that’s what you want.” She leaned forward slightly, her gaze still cautious. “I never had a dad.”

Dean’s voice broke a little as he answered. “You do now.”

Dana watched him for a few more seconds before she let go of her hug and wrapped her arms around his neck. Dean closed his eyes and held her tightly, his hand on her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his shoulder. Dean swallowed again. “No, Dana. Thank you.” Sam stepped closer and squeezed her shoulder gently. “Welcome to the family, kiddo.”

Dana looked at him and giggled softly. “And you’re my Uncle Sam?” Sam grinned. “Forever.”

At that moment, the door opened and Axan stepped back in. His gaze briefly slid to Dana before turning to Dean. “Are you ready?” Dean stood up and held Dana’s hand tightly. He looked at Sam and nodded.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “We are ready.”

The group followed Axan into a smaller, circular room with a domed ceiling that glowed softly with golden runes. In the center was a low stone altar with a bowl and a silver dagger on top.

"Place your hands here," Axan said, pointing to the edges of the altar. "You two—" He looked at Sam and Dean. "—will offer your blood first. The child will follow, and I will complete the ceremony."

Dean glanced at Sam, who stepped forward calmly. Without hesitation, he picked up the dagger and cut a small slit in his palm, then let his blood drip into the bowl. Dean followed with somewhat less enthusiasm, his jaw clenched as he did the same.

Dana looked at them wide-eyed, but Rowena knelt beside her and gently took her hand. "It won't hurt much, my love. And this will protect you, forever."

With a nod, Dana stepped forward and let Axan gently make a small cut on her fingertip. Her blood mingled with that of the brothers in the bowl, which immediately began to glow. The runes on the ceiling pulsed in a deep golden light as Axan began to speak in an ancient, guttural language.
The air in the room changed abruptly. It became heavier, saturated with a deep, ancient magic that was almost tangible. The bowl began to vibrate, the blood inside it swirling in a perfect vortex of red and gold. Dean and Sam felt a strange tingling rush through their bodies as if something inside them had awakened that they had never felt before.

Dean grabbed Sam's arm, his breathing quickening. "What is this? What is happening to us?"

Rowena watched, fascinated, her eyes shining with excitement and respect. "The ritual accepts you completely, even more than I expected. Your blood reacts... as if it contains a dormant spark of magic."

The runes on the ceiling flashed brightly, and suddenly the room filled with a soft, golden light. Shadows emerged from that light, slowly taking shape. Dana let out a small scream and ducked behind Dean, who instinctively put his hand on her shoulder, despite the surprise that had paralyzed him completely.

There they stood. James and Lily Potter, their faces peaceful and full of love, their eyes fixed on Dana. John and Mary Winchester appeared next to them, as did a broadly grinning Bobby Singer.

Sam caught his breath. "Bobby?"

Dean looked at their father and mother with wide eyes. "What the hell...?"

"No," Sam said softly, stepping forward. "This is good. I just know it."

Lily knelt by Dana and smiled, reaching out to the girl. Even though they couldn't touch, Dana felt the warmth and love in that simple movement. "You are strong, my sweet girl," Lily said, her voice a soft melody. "We are so proud of you."

James nodded in agreement, looking at Dean and Sam. "Thank you... for everything you do for her."

John Winchester looked at his sons, pride in his eyes. "You've become good men. Better than I ever could have been." Mary smiled softly. "And now you have her. You will protect her, as we have always wanted to protect you."

Bobby grinned widely, pushing his cap back slightly. "Well, idjits, it seems you officially have more work now. A little magic in your blood? It just makes life more interesting."

Dean swallowed and rubbed his face, his eyes shining. "This is... this is a lot." Sam nodded slowly, looking at Dana, who was now stepping forward cautiously and looking at her parents. "I... I miss you," she whispered.

Lily smiled fondly. "We're always with you, Dana. Always."

Suddenly, the light retreated into the bowl, which came to rest. The shadows slowly disappeared, but the warmth of their presence lingered in the room.

Axan looked at the brothers with a mixture of respect and fascination. "It seems the ritual has revealed more than expected. You're no longer ordinary people. You've become squibs—individuals with magical energy in your blood, but without full access to spells."

Rowena clapped her hands, clearly impressed. "Well, look at that. The famous Winchester brothers, now with a touch of magic. This makes you even more dangerous to your enemies."
Dean shook his head and sighed deeply. "Great. As if we didn't have enough trouble already." But his gaze softened as he looked at Dana, who was looking up at him with a mixture of amazement and awe.

Sam knelt beside her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "This just means we have even more ways to protect you. You're not alone, Dana. And we'll show you that every day."

Dana smiled softly, then looked down at the bowl. "It felt like... like they were really here."

Dean nodded slowly, his voice softer than usual. "They were here, kid. And they're right. You're one of us now. And that means no one will ever hurt you again."

The room was silent, filled with a deep, shared resolve. They had become a family, bound by blood, magic, and a love that transcends even death.

Chapter Text

Sam, Dean, and Dana were sitting on a softly upholstered couch in an adjacent lounge area of the bank. The ritual had taken its toll. Dana had pulled her knees up and was leaning against Sam, her head resting on his arm. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, and her breathing was calm.

Dean was sitting on the other side of the couch, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He glanced sideways at Dana, his gaze a mix of concern, confusion, and a hint of pride. "Sammy," he said softly, "I don't even know where to begin. This... this is just too much."

Sam smiled slightly as he placed his free hand on Dana's shoulder. "I know, Dean. But look at her. She finally has people who care about her. She has a dad and a very cool uncle. She's safe. And that's what matters."

Dean sighed and rubbed his face. "Safe. Right. Safe, when we just discovered that she's... what was it? A vault full of secrets, a scar that no one understands, and now she's some kind of magical heiress?"

"Well, technically she is," Rowena's voice came from the doorway. She leaned casually against the doorframe, a grin on her face. "But that's what I'm here to help. So relax a little, Dean. You look like you're about to explode."

Dana lifted her head briefly at the sound of Rowena's voice but quickly sank back against Sam. "I'm tired," she mumbled, her voice small. Sam smiled at her and stroked her hair reassuringly. "It's okay, Dana. Just close your eyes for a moment. We're here."

Dean looked at his brother and sighed again, his gaze softer. "You've always been better at this stuff, Sammy. Kids and... feelings."

"Maybe," Sam replied with a smile, "but you're the one who wanted to protect her right away. It's natural to you, Dean. Whether you want to admit it or not."

Dean grunted something unintelligible, but his gaze at Dana spoke volumes.

A few moments later, Axan entered the lounge, his heavy footsteps and imposing figure immediately drawing attention. He carried a small briefcase and a stack of papers, and his expression was as serious as it was professional.

"Folks," he began in his low, raspy voice, "as I indicated earlier, the Potter family vaults are considerable. They contain assets both in the United Kingdom and here in the United States. At the request of Mrs. Rowena, I have arranged for some of the contents to be transferred to our Kansas City branch."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What exactly do you mean by 'assets'?"

"I mean," Axan explained patiently, "gold, silver, magical artifacts, properties, and contracts that give you access to a considerable amount of wealth. The exact value is impressive, even by the standards of the magical world."

Sam looked up curiously. "Can you give a figure? How much exactly does Dana have?"

Axan leaned forward and opened the briefcase. He pulled out a magical document, which remained suspended in the air as he spoke. "The Potter family fortune currently stands at just over 2.3 million galleons, with a fluctuation depending on the currency market between the magical and non-magical worlds."

Dean frowned. "Galleons? How much is that in real money? Dollars, I mean."

Axan grinned briefly. "A galleon is equivalent to about five US dollars. That means Dana has a fortune of over eleven million dollars, not including the value of real estate and unique magical items."

Dean let out a low whistle, while Sam leaned back slightly, clearly impressed. "That's... a lot," Sam said slowly.

"Certainly," Axan replied. "But let me also explain to you how the magical currency works. In our world, we use three types of coins: galleons, sickles, and knots. One galleon is equal to seventeen sickles, and one sickle is equal to twenty-nine knots. Think of galleons as the equivalent of your dollars, while sickles and knots are comparable to quarters and pennies."

Dana, who was now wide awake, looked at the floating coins that Axan produced with a quick wave of his hand. "They're beautiful," she whispered, her eyes wide as she examined the shiny gold, silver, and bronze coins.

"They're also a bit unpractical, as they can get quite heavy. That is why we have a card system," Axan said with an approving nod. He turned to the brothers and handed each of them a leather folder. "These passes give you access to Dana's vaults. You are her caregivers, and as such you have access. With them, you can make transactions for you and her, as long as she is not yet an adult witch herself. Think of them as credit cards. Treat them with care."

Dean picked up his own and looked at it as if it were about to explode. "So we can just... pay legally from now on? No more credit card scams?"

Axan let out a raspy laugh. "I suspect you'll have to get used to the fairness of this arrangement for a while. But yes, that's true." He turned to Dana and produced a small pouch. "And this, young lady, is for you. You can say into the pouch how much money you want to withdraw and the pouch will then contain it. Use it wisely.”

Dana took the card with trembling fingers, her eyes wide and awed. "I... I don't know what to say."

Rowena stepped forward and knelt beside her. "Say nothing, my dear. This is your right. You've earned it."

Dana still looked at the pouch as if it were a magical artifact, which it was. As Axan closed his briefcase, he looked at the brothers and Rowena. "The vaults will be replenished with a selection of the contents from Britain during the week. However, magical artifacts and documents of historical importance will remain in their original vaults."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. "And that's safe? No one can just get to those vaults?"

"Correct," Axan confirmed. "The security at Gringotts is second to none. And let me make one thing clear: under no circumstances will you draw a weapon in the bank. Either here or in Britain. Goblins take that personally, and the consequences will be... unpleasant."

Dean held up his hands defensively. "No weapons. Understood."

"Good," Rowena said, looking at Dean with a broad smile. "Congratulations, Dean. You are now officially a father. And it's a girl."

Dean sighed deeply, but a small smile crossed his face. "Thank you, Rowena. Really. That makes this all a lot less stressful."

Sam nudged him, laughing. "Oh, you're doing great, Dad."

After making arrangements to come back to the bank when most of the contents had been moved, they left the bank.

****

The sun cast a warm glow on the gold-adorned facade of Gringotts as Dana nervously watched Dean, her pouch in hand. Her small fingers fiddled with it, as if it might disappear at any moment.

"Dean?" she asked softly, her voice hesitant but determined.

Dean turned to look at her, kneeling so he was at eye level with her. "What's wrong, little one?"

Dana held up the pouch. "I... I don't want to lose this. It's so small, and... it's important, right? Maybe you can keep it for me?"

Dean smiled encouragingly. "Of course, if you prefer. But it's your pouch, Dana. You decide what happens to it."

She nodded slowly, her eyes wide and thoughtful. "Maybe... maybe I could get pocket money? Then I wouldn't have to carry this around with me all the time. Don't other kids get pocket money too?"

Dean raised his eyebrows and glanced at Sam, who nodded approvingly. "Pocket money, huh?" Dean said. "How much do you think you need?"

Dana thought deeply, her face serious. "Maybe... fifteen galleons?"

Dean whistled softly and grinned. "That's a lot for a girl your age. But you know what, let's start with five galleons a week. Does that sound fair?" Dana looked disappointed for a moment but nodded quickly. "Okay.”

Sam smiled and leaned forward slightly. "And maybe we can agree that you can always ask if you need anything. You never have to worry about not being able to get something, Dana. We'll take care of you."

Dana's face lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, Sam. And Dean. Thank you!"

Dean patted her gently on the shoulder. "You don't have to thank us every time, little one. But it's nice to hear."

The group had found a cozy, magical restaurant down the alley, where the smell of fresh herbs and baking bread hung in the air. The sign above the door glittered in gold letters: The Silver Spoon. Inside, it was warm and cozy, with wooden tables, soft candlelight, and floating bowls of steaming food moving from table to table.

They were greeted by a friendly witch in a flower-stained apron. "Welcome! Are you looking for a table for four?" "Yes, please," Rowena said with an elegant nod, placing a hand on Dana's shoulder and gently guiding her toward a table.

They sat down at a cozy table in the corner, overlooking a small fountain-like structure that flickered with colored lights. Dana looked around, wide-eyed. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth as she remained silent.

Rowena slid a menu toward her. "Whatever you want, darling. Take your pick."

Dana picked up the menu hesitantly, her eyes gliding over the moving images of steaming dishes. "I... I don't know what to choose."

Dean frowned and leaned toward her. "You've never eaten in a restaurant before, Dana?"

She shook her head, a little embarrassed. "No... Uncle Vernon always said it was a waste of money on freaks like me.

Dean immediately froze. His hand clenched into a fist on the table, his jaw muscles visibly tensing as he tried to control his anger. His eyes flashed with a menacing intensity. "Freaks? That's what the guy said to you?" His voice was low, sharp, and charged with pent-up anger.

Dana flinched slightly and looked down at her hands. "He said it a lot," she muttered. Her voice was small, and she avoided Dean's gaze. She was still quite taken aback by his sometimes fierce reactions.

Sam, who was sitting next to Dana, leaned in cautiously. His gaze was softer, a sharp contrast to Dean's intense anger. "Dana," he began quietly, "you're not a freak. That never was and never will be. He had no right to say that to you."

Rowena's eyes narrowed as they shared Dean's anger, but her response was more controlled. She leaned slightly toward Dana, her voice calm but unwavering. "Honey, you're anything but a freak. People like you—with your talents—are special. And if that Vernon couldn't see that, then that's his shortcoming, not yours."

Dana's gaze flicked to Rowena, uncertain but also surprised by her reassurance. Dean's anger had not yet subsided. "If I ever get that guy..." He bit his lip, his anger almost palpable.

"Dean," Sam said warningly, placing a hand on his brother's arm. "Not right now."

Rowena shook her head slightly and turned her attention back to Dana. "Let me make one thing clear, honey," she said softly but with a certain determination. "The only freaks here are the ones who treat others badly, like your uncle. You are so much more than he could ever understand."
Dana looked down at her hands, her voice almost inaudible. "But I'm different."

"That's a good thing," Sam said immediately. He smiled warmly. "Being different is what makes you special. And believe me, being different is a good thing here."
Dean's face softened a little when he heard Sam speak, and he sighed deeply as if trying to get rid of his anger for a moment. "Look, Dana," he began, his voice a little softer. "All you have to remember is that you're not alone. No matter what that jerk said to you... He was wrong. Do you understand that?"

Dana nodded hesitantly, still not entirely convinced.

Dean, in a lighter tone, leaned back in his chair and let his gaze drift to Rowena. "And let's face it, if anyone's a freak around here, it's Rowena."

Rowena's eyebrow shot up, but a grin broke across her face. "Ah, Dean, call me whatever you want, but at least I'm a charming freak."

Dana looked up briefly and smiled softly. The feeling of tension seemed to ebb away a little, as the atmosphere at the table lightened up a bit. Rowena turned to the waiter, who arrived at that moment. "Well, let's order, shall we? Our young lady here deserves a royal feast."

After a sumptuous and special meal, Rowena suggested that they explore the magical district further. The sun had risen higher in the sky by now, and the streets were filled with vibrant colors, magical lights, and all sorts of wonderful shops.

The first stop was a clothing store that seemed to specialize in both everyday and magical clothing. The window displayed dresses that changed colors and cloaks that seemed to change to fit the wearer. Dana looked at the garments with wide eyes, clearly impressed.

"Come, darling," Rowena said as she gently led Dana into the store. "Time to expand your wardrobe a wee bit further."

Inside, they were greeted by a friendly witch, who immediately began showing off dresses, skirts, and even a few cool pantsuits. Dana chose carefully, with a mix of simple, comfortable clothing and a few more playful pieces. A dress with small stars on it, which sparkled in the light, was her favorite.

"What do you think of this?" Rowena asked, holding a warmly lined cloak. "Perfect for the colder months."

Dana nodded enthusiastically. "It's very soft." Rowena also pressured Sam and Dean to get new jackets with spells imbedded in them, to repel dirt and keep them either cool or warm.

After paying, they continued walking through the district. Their next stop was a shop filled with magical items and weapons. Dean's eyes immediately lit up at the large selection of daggers.

"Well, look at this," he said, picking up a knife that seemed to glow with a faint blue light. "This is handy."

The shopkeeper, a thin wizard with sharp features, approached them. "An excellent choice. This dagger is reinforced with a spell that protects against demonic influence."

Dean turned the knife in his hand and looked at Sam. "What do you think? Handy to have with us?" Sam nodded. "Sure. But let's get two." Dana watched curiously as the brothers inspected the daggers. She stepped closer to the counter and pointed to a small, shiny tool set. "What's that?"

The shopkeeper smiled. "A magical lock pick set. Perfect for opening doors or chests that are secured with a simple spell." Dean grinned broadly. "Yeah, that sounds like it might be right up our alley."

"Or you could hold the door open for once," Sam commented dryly, but he smiled as he handed the set to the shopkeeper.

Once everyone was satisfied with their purchases, they walked on. Dana looked around with a mixture of curiosity and wonder. Rowena walked beside her, answering her questions about everything they saw.

“That was a productive morning,” Dean said, glancing at the bags they carried. He looked at Dana and smiled brightly. “You made some good choices today, kiddo.”

As the group continued to walk through the bustling magical district, Rowena’s gaze fell on a storefront with a bright blue sign above it: “Oculus Optica – For all your magical vision needs.” Behind the window were beautiful glasses in all shapes and colors, some with small moving ornaments, others with modest frames that glistened elegantly in the light.

Rowena stopped abruptly and tapped Dean on the shoulder. “Look over there. An eyeglass store! This could improve Dana’s life considerably.”

Dean frowned. “What’s wrong with her glasses? They work just fine, don’t they?”

“Really, Dean,” Rowena said with a dramatic sigh, “a girl like her deserves more than just an old pair of glasses. Besides—” She leaned closer to him and whispered, “—these stores often offer magical solutions. No more glasses needed.”

Dana stared at the store with wide eyes. “No more glasses?” she asked softly, almost as if she couldn’t believe it.

Sam nodded encouragingly. "Let's try it. If it can help, why not?"

They stepped inside and were greeted by a friendly-looking woman with hair that seemed to glisten like glass. "Welcome! How can I help you today?" Rowena spoke up. "This girl," she said, placing a hand on Dana's shoulder, "is having some trouble with her vision. We're hoping you can do something."

The woman smiled at Dana. "Of course. Come here, sweetheart, we'll take a look."

Dana looked uncertainly at Dean, who gave her a reassuring nod. She walked carefully to the counter, where the woman pulled out a small bottle of blue liquid.

"This is a magical elixir," the woman explained. "It completely restores vision and is safe for children. All you have to do is put a few drops in each eye."

Dana swallowed nervously and looked back at Dean. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
Dean knelt and looked her straight in the eye. “If it does hurt, I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?” That gave Dana the courage she needed. She let the woman carefully put the drops in her eyes. She blinked rapidly for a moment, then remained silent as her eyes slowly adjusted.

“How does it feel?” Sam asked.

Dana looked around, her mouth falling open. “I… I can see everything! Without my glasses!” Her voice sounded surprised and excited at the same time.

Rowena smiled triumphantly. “See, Dean? I’m always right.” Dean rolled his eyes, but a small smile crept onto his face when he saw Dana’s happy reaction. “Okay, okay, this was a good idea.”

Dana walked back to Rowena and took her hand. “Thank you,” she said softly, a little shyly but sincerely.

Dana and Rowena walked ahead, their voices a soft melody of conversation as they window-shopped. Sam and Dean followed a few paces behind, still frowning slightly at everything they saw. Dean was staring at a store where a living statue beckoned customers in when he suddenly felt a shadow slide over him.

“What the...” Dean looked up and stopped short. Sam nearly bumped into him. “Dean, what are you doing?” Sam asked, following his gaze to the sky.

“Are those... owls?” Dean asked slowly, his eyes following a group of large birds flying with precision over their heads. They carried small packages and letters in their talons.

“Owls,” Sam confirmed, with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. “And they... deliver mail?”

Rowena turned, a knowing smile on her face. “Of course. How do you think witches and wizards get in touch with each other? Cell phones don’t work in the magical world.” Dana looked up, her eyes wide. “They deliver… mail? Really?” Her voice was incredulous, a mixture of wonder and curiosity.

Rowena nodded patiently. “Yes, dear. Owls are the oldest and most reliable mail carriers in the magical world. Every wizard relies on them.”

Dean was still staring at the sky, where an owl flew just above his head. “Reliable? And what if that thing has a bad day and drops your letter in a river?” Rowena raised an eyebrow at him. “Owls have a better work ethic than some people I know, Dean.”

Dana giggled softly and turned to Rowena. “Do all wizards have their own owl?”

“Not everyone,” Rowena explained. “Some people have a community owl service, like you have a post office. But many do keep their own, especially in remote areas.”

Sam smiled at Dana. “Imagine, your own owl delivering your mail. That’s pretty special, isn’t it?”
Dana nodded quietly, her gaze still cast upward, as a large, majestic owl landed on a nearby lamppost. The creature looked around solemnly before dropping a small package into the hands of a magical passerby.

Dean shook his head and grunted something unintelligible. Sam chuckled and gave him a nudge. “Come on, Dean. Maybe we should consider getting one of our own.” Dean rolled his eyes. “One magical creature at a time, Sammy.”

Dana laughed softly, and together they walked on, the owl post a reminder of how strange and fascinating this new world was for all of them. They went back to the car and Rowena said goodbye. “Call me if you need help boys.” She waved at Dana and walked away.

Chapter Text

The fire in the hearth of Albus Dumbledore’s office crackled softly as the old wizard stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze fixed on a series of intricate, magically moving instruments. The metal hands and glass disks turned and ticked in a rhythm he had known for years. They kept track of the magical balance of the world—and in particular, one particular soul.

Dana Potter.

Dumbledore frowned as one of the instruments began to vibrate. The hands suddenly jolted back and forth, as if they had lost their regular pattern. A soft tinkling sound filled the room, and a thin cloud of smoke rose from one of the glass disks.

He walked slowly to the instrument and placed his hand on the cool metal. The vibration did not stop. Instead, the tinkling became a steady hum, as if the instrument was trying to tell him something.

Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed behind his half-moon glasses. He knew this kind of reaction. This meant that something unusual had happened to Dana—something that had altered her magical status.

“What have you been through, my girl?” he whispered.

Just then there was a loud tapping on the window. An owl was sitting impatiently on the sill, a letter clutched tightly in its beak.

Dumbledore walked to the window and opened it with a quiet movement. The owl flew in, landed on his desk, and dropped the letter before leaving with a short screech.

With a slight frown, Dumbledore picked up the letter and immediately recognized the handwriting on the envelope. Arabella Figg. He tore open the envelope and read the first few lines.

His face tightened.

The letter was short and to the point, but its contents left little room for doubt. Dana had disappeared from her family home, and the Dursleys had returned to England without her. Arabella suspected that something had gone terribly wrong.

Dumbledore slowly sank into his chair and dropped the letter on his desk. His gaze drifted back to the vibrating instruments. The timing of it all was too striking to be a coincidence. He leaned back, his fingers interlaced in front of his face. His mind was a jumble of worries and questions.

He had made mistakes, he knew. He had placed Dana with the Dursleys with the best of intentions—to protect her from the world that would do her harm. But had he done her more harm in doing so?

Arabella’s letter, combined with the reaction of his instruments, seemed to confirm that suspicion. He closed his eyes for a moment, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He felt the weight of his decisions weighing heavier than ever. In the past, he had ignored the warnings of Arabella, because the girl was most protected in her aunt’s home.

After a long pause, he opened his eyes again and focused his gaze on the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, who was regarding him with a mocking expression.

“So, your master plan is not going as you had hoped,” Phineas sneered. Dumbledore looked at him intently. “I did what I thought was best. It was not perfect but for the greater good.” Dumbledore stood up, his gaze determined. “It’s time to seek answers.”

He looked at Arabella’s letter and then at the vibrating instrument on his desk. He couldn’t afford to make any more mistakes. “Where are you going?” Phineas asked, his expression amused.

Dumbledore picked up his staff and turned to the portrait. “To America.” His voice was calm, but there was a deeper concern hidden in it. “I must find her before it is too late.”

****

Crowley was in his private archive, a vast chamber deep in the depths of Hell. The air was thick with sulfur and the soft whispers of spirits still trapped in old contracts. But he heard none of it; his attention was focused on an old parchment, his fingers tracing the worn ink.

A small demon appeared beside him, nodding nervously. “My lord, the information you sought has been found.”

Crowley looked up, his eyes dark and sharp. “Well, what have you? And be quick. My patience is as finite as your existence.”

The demon handed over a heavy, dusty book. “The genealogies of ancient magical families, my lord. And… there are mentions of the Potters. They are descended from the youngest brother of the Peverell dynasty.”

Crowley froze for a moment, a rare sign of genuine interest. “The youngest brother… the holder of the Cloak of Invisibility. Interesting. Very interesting.”

He quickly flipped through the book, reading passages about the Peverell family and their legacy. “The three brothers,” he muttered softly. “Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus. The story of the Deathly Hallows.”

The demon nodded quickly. “According to tradition, Lord Voldemort, the dark wizard, is descended from Antioch Peverell. The Potters… from Ignotus.”

Crowley closed the book and leaned back in his chair, a smug grin on his face. “So the blood of the Peverell’s runs through that little girl’s veins. That explains a lot. The question is, does she know? And more importantly… does Dumbledore know?”

The demon hesitated. “What exactly does it matter, my lord?”

Crowley looked at him with a look that was both contempt and amusement. “It matters because this girl is no mere child. She is connected to one of the most powerful bloodlines in the magical world. And if the stories of the Deathly Hallows are true, then she is potentially more dangerous than Voldemort ever was.”

“And now what, my lord?” Crowley stood, the book tucked tightly under his arm. “I will continue my search. The Peverell’s and their legacy are too important to be left unexploited. I need to know why Voldemort specifically went after the Potters. It cannot be a coincidence.”

He turned and looked at the parchment on the table once more. “The girl who lived… and the last heir of Ignotus Peverell. What an interesting combination.”

With a puff of smoke, Crowley disappeared from the room, determined to unravel the full story behind Dana Potter and her connection to the Deathly Hallows.

****

The air in the Hogwarts dungeons was cold and damp, as always. The smell of herbs, rotting leaves, and chemical fumes filled the corridors. Albus Dumbledore walked quietly through the dark corridors, his cloak trailing softly across the stone floor. He paused in front of the door to Severus Snape’s office and knocked softly.

“Enter,” Snape’s voice sounded curt. Dumbledore opened the door and stepped inside. Severus was sitting at his desk, sorting ingredients, but looked up when he saw his visitor.

“Headmaster,” Snape said with a slight bow of his head. “This is unexpected.” Dumbledore smiled briefly. “Severus. I have something important to discuss with you.”

Snape put down his work and leaned back in his chair. “I’m listening.” Dumbledore walked over to the desk and sat down in one of the chairs on the other side. He pulled a stack of letters from his cloak and carefully placed them on the desk. Snape glanced at it briefly.

“Letters?” Snape asked. “From who?”

“Arabella Figg,” Dumbledore replied quietly. Snape raised his eyebrows. “The Squib who lives near the Potter brat?” Dumbledore nodded. “She wrote to me about Dana.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed at the name. “And what does she say? That the girl is spoiled and doesn’t get enough cake?” Dumbledore’s smile faded, and his gaze grew more serious. “Read the letters, Severus.” Snape looked at Dumbledore suspiciously before picking up the letters and beginning to read. As he continued, his face tightened. When he was finished, he slowly put the letters down.

“This… can’t be true,” Snape said, his voice low and dangerously calm. He stood up abruptly, his hands pressed flat on the desk. “She’s been living under a staircase? She’s barely been fed? And no one has done anything to help her?” Dumbledore looked at him calmly, though there was regret in his eyes. “No one knew, Severus. Arabella tried to inform me, but I ignored her messages because I thought she was overreacting.”

“That’s no excuse,” Snape snapped. “You left her there. In the hands of people who despised her. How could you let that happen?”

Dumbledore sighed deeply and closed his eyes briefly. “Because I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought she’d be safe there, beyond the reach of the magical world. But I should have known that physical safety wasn’t enough.” Snape’s gaze remained hard. “And now? What are you going to do?”

Dumbledore looked at him determinedly. “I’m going to find her. She disappeared from that house, and Arabella says she’s in America. I’m going to find her and make sure she gets what she deserves.”

Snape stared at him for a moment longer before slowly sitting back down. “And if you find her?” he asked softly. “What then? Are you going to take her back to Britain? Put her back in a situation where she has no say?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “No. She deserves the truth. And she deserves a choice. Something I never gave her.” Snape paused, his gaze thoughtful. “And if she doesn’t want to come back?”

“Then she stays where she is,” Dumbledore said without hesitation. “I don’t intend to abandon her again. She deserves a family to care for her.” Snape’s gaze softened slightly. “You’ve made mistakes, Albus. Big mistakes.”

“I know,” Dumbledore said softly. “But it’s never too late to make things right.” Snape looked at him questioningly for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Go, then. But be careful. If the wrong people find out where she is, she will be in danger again.”

Dumbledore stood up and picked up his staff. “Thank you, Severus.” Snape stopped him with one final question. “Albus… why have you told me this?” Dumbledore looked straight at him, his gaze more serious than Snape had ever seen it before. “Because I know you care about her. About her mother. And I want you to know that I will not fail you again.”

Snape nodded briefly, without saying anything. As Dumbledore left the room, Snape remained behind, his gaze resting on Arabella’s letters. A deep frown appeared on his face.

“Potter,” he whispered. But this time there was no hatred in his voice. Only confusion and something that almost seemed… sympathy.

Chapter Text

The streets of Kansas City were a far cry from the old, magic-infused London that Albus Dumbledore knew. Here, the magic was more subtly hidden, woven into the modern skyline and bustle of the Muggle world. But beneath the surface pulsed an ancient force—the magical community of America.

Dumbledore stepped out of the portkey-platform, his long cloak billowing lightly in the crisp morning breeze. He held his wand steady in his hand as he surveyed his surroundings. The square where he had landed looked empty, but he knew that was only an illusion.

A group of magical enforcers stood a few yards away. They wore the distinctive insignia of MACUSA and regarded the old wizard with a mixture of respect and curiosity.

The leader of the group, a stately woman with sharp features, stepped forward and bowed briefly. “Professor Dumbledore. It is an honor to welcome you to America.”

Dumbledore smiled kindly and nodded. “Thank you. Your help is much appreciated.”

“We have been expecting your arrival,” she continued. “The name Dumbledore carries a lot of weight, even here. We know why you are here.” Dumbledore’s gaze grew more serious. “Then you know I have little time to waste.”

The woman nodded understandingly. “Of course. As Supreme Mugwump, you have our full cooperation. We will escort you to our district.” Dumbledore briefly scanned the group. “I am looking for a child. Dana Potter. She is somewhere here in America.”

The woman looked at him searchingly but kept her tone neutral. “We have heard of her… presence. But she is not easy to find.” Dumbledore smiled weakly. “Thankfully, I have never been afraid of a challenge.” She turned and gestured to her colleagues. “We will take you to the magical district. You may begin your search there.”

Dumbledore pulled his cloak a little tighter around him and walked with them, his gaze sharp and purposeful. He was here to find Dana.

***

The marble lobby of the American Gringotts branch exuded the same imposing atmosphere as its British counterpart. The large doors were decorated with silver runes and copper engravings that shone subtly in the morning light. Albus Dumbledore stepped quietly into the lobby, staff in hand, his eyes taking in his surroundings.

A goblin with a stern face and pointed ears, dressed in a tight-fitting dark gray suit, approached him. His name tag read Axan.

“Professor Dumbledore,” Axan said with a curt bow. “Welcome to American Gringotts. I understand you are here for… sensitive information?”

“That is correct,” Dumbledore replied kindly. “I am looking for information about a specific client. Dana Potter.” Axan’s eyes glistened briefly, but his face remained impassive. “Dana Potter is a recent adoptee, Professor.”

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “Adopted?”

“Indeed,” Axan confirmed. He gestured to a smaller room and led Dumbledore there. “According to our records, Mrs. Potter was officially adopted through a blood magic ritual.”

Dumbledore’s gaze turned serious. “By whom?” Axan sat down at a desk and pulled out a thick ledger. He opened it and ran his finger over the text. “By a certain Dean Winchester.”

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, the name lingering in his mind. “Dean Winchester… a Muggle?” Axan nodded. “A Muggle, indeed. But not just any.” He looked at Dumbledore intently. “I suspect you are not familiar with this name, but here in America, the Winchester brothers are anything but unknown.”

“Tell me more,” Dumbledore asked quietly, but with an undertone of urgency.

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Axan began, pulling out another document, “are known as hunters. They operate primarily in the non-magical world, but they have come into contact with magical creatures more often than most Muggles ever will.” Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. “So MACUSA knows of their existence?”

Axan grinned faintly. “MACUSA keeps a close eye on them. They are known for their conflicts with witches, vampires, werewolves… you name it. But despite their reputation as hunters, they are surprisingly protective of those they consider family.” Dumbledore was silent, letting the information sink in. “And this Dean Winchester… is now her father?”

Axan nodded again. “Yes. The blood adoption is registered and recognized by both Gringotts and MACUSA. Dana Potter is now legally and magically protected as a Winchester.”

Dumbledore’s gaze sharpened. “Were you personally involved in this adoption?” Axan leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together. “That’s right. I conducted the ceremony myself.”

“And you agreed to this?” Dumbledore asked, his voice slightly sharp. “Involving a Muggle in a blood magic ritual?” Axan’s eyes narrowed. We goblins act according to the rules of the bank. Dean Winchester’s blood was accepted by the magical protection of the Potter line. That’s what matters. And let me remind you that a blood-magic adoption is not done lightly. It was only allowed because the ritual was fully accepted by the ancient magic that protects the Potter legacy.”

Dumbledore paused for a moment, carefully considering Axan’s words. “So you’re saying that the magic itself recognized them?”

“Exactly,” Axan confirmed. “Dean Winchester was deemed worthy by the ancient magic. His blood now protects her, just as the blood of her biological family did. And that officially makes her his daughter.” Dumbledore let the information sink in slowly. “How did Dana react to all this?”

Axan smiled faintly. “She was nervous. But once the ceremony was over, she seemed relieved. She finally felt at home, Professor.” Dumbledore's gaze softened at the words. He thought of the girl he had once left with the Dursleys, with the best of intentions. A girl who had now found a new home with people who protected her.

"And what does MACUSA have to say about this?" Dumbledore finally asked.
Axan shrugged. "MACUSA has no official jurisdiction over blood adoptions. But they know Dana Potter is here, and they also know the Winchesters are protecting her. They won't interfere, Professor. Unless you try to do that."

Dumbledore smiled weakly. "A warning?" Axan grinned broadly. "A word of advice."

Dumbledore stood up slowly and nodded at the goblin. "Thank you for your honesty, Axan. This was... enlightening." Axan bowed slightly. "Good luck with your search, Professor. And again... be careful. The Winchesters are not the kind of people to be manipulated." With those last words, Dumbledore left the room, his cloak trailing behind him as he walked out of the bank lobby. The world Dana now lived in was very different from what he had imagined.

“Dean Winchester,” he muttered softly to himself as he walked through the streets of the magical district. “It seems I must speak to her new family first.” His gaze grew determined. He knew what he had to do. He had to find the Winchesters.

After leaving Gringotts, Albus Dumbledore walked through the magical district of Kansas City. His mind was heavy with the information he had received. Dana had been adopted by a Muggle—a hunter, no less—and the adoption was tied to blood magic. This was far more complex than he had expected.

He stopped in front of an unassuming building with a simple sign that bore only the letters MACUSA. The American magical government was much more hidden than the British Ministry of Magic, but they were efficient and aware of almost everything that went on in their country.

Inside, Dumbledore was greeted by a woman with short black hair and a sharp face. She wore a dark cloak with the MACUSA insignia on her chest.

“Professor Dumbledore,” she said with a slight bow of her head. “Welcome to MACUSA. My name is Livia Carter. I am here to help you.” Dumbledore smiled kindly. “Thank you, Mrs. Carter. I appreciate your time.”

“You are seeking information on the Winchester brothers, correct?” Carter asked immediately. Dumbledore’s eyebrows knitted together for a moment, but he nodded. “That is correct. They have taken a young witch under their wing. I want to make sure she is safe.”

Evelyn pulled out a chair and gestured for Dumbledore to sit down as well. “The Winchesters are known to us. They are on our radars because of their activities as hunters. But their methods are different from most others.”

“What do you mean?” Dumbledore asked. Carter leaned forward slightly. “Most hunters are cruel, ruthless, and treat anything magical as a threat. But the Winchesters? They make distinctions. They protect the innocent. Even when it comes to magical creatures.” Dumbledore nodded slowly. “So they are different.”

“Very,” Carter confirmed. “And that makes them both dangerous and fascinating.” Dumbledore kept his gaze on her. “Do you know where I can find them?”

Evelyn hesitated for a moment. “They have a fixed abode that we know off. But we can’t exactly pinpoint them…” She pulled a map from her drawer and spread it out on the table. “There are rumors of an underground bunker. An old World War II facility, modified by hunters.”

Dumbledore studied the map intently as Carter ran her finger along various locations.

“Our sources say this bunker is somewhere here, in Kansas,” she said, placing her finger on a specific region. “It’s well hidden. Even MACUSA has never been able to locate it. But the Winchesters are frequently seen in the surrounding areas.”

Dumbledore ran his gaze over the map. “An underground lair… that sounds fitting.” Carter smiled weakly. “The Winchesters don’t trust anyone. But if you find them, you’ll find them fiercely loyal to those they protect.” Dumbledore straightened and nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Carter. This is very helpful.”

“One last piece of advice, Professor,” Carter said as she stood. “Approach them with caution. They protect their family with everything they have. And I suspect that Dana Potter is now part of that family.” Dumbledore smiled weakly. “I gathered that.” With that, he left the MACUSA office, his mind already on his next move. Finding the Winchesters would not be easy. But it was necessary. Dana’s safety depended on it.

Chapter Text

The bunker was quiet. Dana was sitting at the large table with a sketchbook in front of her, her tongue sticking out slightly as she concentrated on coloring a picture. Sam was in the kitchen preparing something simple, while Dean was going through the supplies list with a beer bottle in his hand.

Just as Dean was about to say they needed more chips, the lights flickered. Dana looked up. “Sam? Is that normal?” Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he set his bottle down on the table with a thump. “No.”

The air in the bunker seemed to grow colder, and with a sudden flash, Crowley appeared in the middle of the room, his trademark black suit perfectly straightened and his usual confident grin on his face. “Well, well, guys,” Crowley said with a hint of sarcasm. “I thought I’d drop in and say hello.”

Dana let out a small sound of alarm and jumped back. Her eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest. Without realizing it, she felt her magic coursing through her body—wild, untrained.

A split second later, Crowley’s hair turned a bright blue. Dean froze. Sam turned slowly, a look of surprise on his face. Crowley, who had still been grinning confidently, froze as a strand of blue fell in front of his eyes. He blinked slowly, reached out, and grabbed a few of the blue strands.

“Blue,” he finally said, his voice flat. “My hair… is blue.” Dana covered her mouth with her hands. “O-oh no! I… I didn’t mean to!”

Dean tried to keep a straight face, but a chuckle escaped him. “Well, Crowley. It suits you. Maybe you should keep it that way.” Sam took a deep breath, clearly suppressing his laughter. “A new look.”

Crowley turned slowly to Dana, his eyes sharp but not angry. On the contrary—there was curiosity in his gaze. He crouched down so that he was at eye level with her and looked at her searchingly. Dean came closer, hand on the demon knife.

“Well, well,” he said with a weak smile. “And who might you be?” Dana swallowed and looked shyly at Sam and Dean. “I… I’m Dana.” Crowley’s smile widened. “Ah. Dana Potter. The girl I’ve heard so much about but never met.”

Dana’s gaze settled on his bright blue hair. “I… I’m sorry about your hair.” Crowley shook his head and chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. There are worse things in this world than a bad hair day.” He winked. “Besides, blue is totally in.”

Dean stepped between them, his gaze warning. “Okay, that’s enough. What are you doing here, Crowley?”

***

Dana sat quietly at the large table in the bunker. In front of her lay a sketchbook in which she drew intently, her small hand clutching a pencil. Beside her was an empty mug of hot chocolate. She swayed her legs gently under the table, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Dean and Sam stood on the other side of the table, both with their arms crossed. Their gazes were fixed on Crowley, who was pacing the room in his usual confident manner. His blue hair—a remnant of Dana’s accidentally cast magic—fell in soft waves over his forehead, but he seemed unconcerned.

“Now, boys,” Crowley began with a wide grin, “do you want to hear what makes that little girl over there so special? Or would you rather stand there for hours and stare at each other without learning anything?” Dean growled. “Get to the point, Crowley. Why are you here? What do you know that we don’t?”

Crowley stopped and turned to face the brothers. His face grew serious. “I know you think Dana is just a girl with magic. But it’s more than that. Much more.” Sam’s gaze sharpened. “Explain.”

Crowley pulled out a chair and sat down, seeming completely at ease here. He folded his hands together and let his gaze drift briefly to Dana before turning back to the brothers.

“Do you know the story of the Deathly Hallows?” he asked quietly. Dean frowned. “No. What are they?”

Sam looked thoughtful. “I’ve read the name in one of those old books here in the bunker. When we just moved in here I have read it. It’s sort of a fairy tale. It talks about three objects, right? A wand, a stone, and a cloak?”

Crowley nodded. “Exactly. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Invisibility Cloak. Together, they are the Hallows—the most powerful magical objects ever created. And whoever possesses them all becomes the Master of Death.”

Dean snorted. “Sounds like a fairy tale.” Crowley’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Oh, you’d think so, wouldn’t you? But fairy tales often have a grain of truth to them. These objects are real. And more than that — they’re connected to one family: the Peverell’s.”

Sam nodded slowly. “The three brothers in the story.”

“Exactly,” Crowley confirmed. “And here’s the interesting part, boys. The Peverell bloodline split centuries ago. The eldest brother, Antioch, is the ancestor of many dark wizards, including a certain Tom Riddle.” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Voldemort.”

“Correct,” Crowley said with a grin. “But Dana? She’s descended from the youngest brother, Ignotus Peverell. The man who wore the Invisibility Cloak and evaded death with it.”

Dean glanced briefly at Dana, who was still drawing, oblivious to the conversation. “And that makes her special?” Crowley nodded slowly. “More than special. She’s a direct descendant of one of the most powerful magical bloodlines in existence. The magic that runs through her veins is older and stronger than most wizards.”

Sam remained silent, considering what this meant. Dean, on the other hand, was less impressed.
“So what?” Dean said shortly. “What does that mean? She’s just a child.”

Crowley leaned forward slightly, his voice softer and more serious. “What it means, Dean, is that she’s a target. People who know what the Hallows are would do anything to find her. And if they find out she’s descended from the Peverell’s…” He paused. “You’ve got a war on your hands.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “We’re protecting her.” Crowley grinned faintly. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. But know this: she won’t always be a child. The longer she lives, the more powerful she’ll become. And the more people will seek her out.”

Dana looked up at that moment, her gaze focused curiously on Crowley. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked softly. Crowley’s gaze softened a fraction, something that rarely happened. “Because you, honey, are very important.”

Dana smiled weakly. “I just want to draw.” Crowley winked. “Keep doing that, honey. Let the grown-ups worry about the rest.”

He stood up and turned to Dean and Sam. “That’s all I wanted to tell you. But remember my words, boys. This story is far from over.” With a flash of black smoke, Crowley disappeared, and the lights in the bunker flickered for a moment before steadying again.

Dana looked at her drawing and calmly resumed coloring. “What did he mean?” she asked softly. Dean walked over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “We're making sure you're safe, Dana. That's all that matters.”

Chapter Text

The heavy metal door of the bunker creaked slightly as it opened. Dana was sitting at the large table with her sketchbook but immediately looked up at the sound. Sam and Dean both looked toward the door, their hands instinctively on their weapons. “Relax, guys,” came a cheerful voice. “It’s just me.”

Charlie Bradbury stepped into the bunker with a broad smile, a backpack over her shoulder and a cardboard box in her arms. She looked her usual self: colorful clothes, a mischievous glint in her eyes, and an almost contagious energy.

“Charlie!” Sam grinned and walked over to greet her. “I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow.” Charlie put the box down and pulled Sam into a tight hug. “Couldn’t wait! You said there was someone special I had to meet.” She let her gaze drift to Dana, her smile softening. “And this must be Dana.”

Dana looked up from her sketchbook a little shyly but gave a small nod. “Hi.”

Charlie walked over to her quietly and crouched down so she was at eye level with her. “Hi, Dana. I’m Charlie. I hear you just moved in with these guys.” She glanced meaningfully at Dean and Sam. “Must be tough, huh? They’re not exactly the most sociable.” Dana giggled softly. Dean rolled his eyes. “We’re sociable enough.”

Charlie stood up and picked up the box again. “Well, I thought we’d make this place a little more fun. So… gift time!” Dana’s eyes widened. “Gifts, for me?”

“Absolutely.” Charlie set the box on the table and began pulling things out. “Books. Art supplies. A few gadgets I made.” She pulled out a small light-up cube. “This is a magical light that never goes out. And…” She pulled out a plush dragon, complete with tiny wings and golden scales. “A hug for when these two are too busy hunting monsters.”

Dana gently took the dragon, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Thank you!” Charlie smiled widely. “No problem, kiddo.”

Dean looked at the stuff on the table and nodded approvingly. “Okay, I admit. This is pretty cool.”

“That’s what I thought.” Charlie winked at him. “And since I’m here… what’s the story? Why does this all sound like I’m walking into an episode of X-Files?” Sam sighed and nodded toward the living room. “Come on, we’ll talk more there.”

Charlie looked at Dana one more time. “You go ahead and continue drawing. I’ll be right back.” Dana nodded enthusiastically and sat back down with her sketchbook. The stuffed dragon stood proudly next to her.

In the living room, Charlie sat down on the couch and looked expectantly at Dean and Sam. “Okay, spill it. Who is she? Why does she seem so important?” Dean took a deep breath and looked at Sam for support. Sam began to speak calmly. “Dana… is a child with magic. Not just some trick witch. Real, innate magic.”

Charlie’s eyebrows knitted together as she thought about what she was hearing. “Magic… That explains why you guys were being so secretive. But why is she here? Why not with other magical people?” Dean made a face. “That’s the problem. The people who were supposed to protect her didn’t. Her parents were murdered by a dark wizard. She was dumped on her family, but they treated her like dirt. And now? Now she’s a Winchester. We have adopted her.”

Charlie’s gaze softened. “Oh, guys…” She looked at Sam and Dean, her eyes sparkling with admiration. “That might be the best thing that could have happened to her.” Dean smiled weakly. “We agree.”

Sam nodded slowly. “But there’s more. She’s connected to something ancient. A magical bloodline. And there are things about her that we don’t fully understand yet.” Charlie sat up, her eyes sharp. “So you need me to do a little investigating?”

Dean nodded. “That, and to give her some company. She could use some lightness.” Charlie grinned. “Lightness? I’m your gal!” Sam laughed softly. “So… are you staying for a few days?”

“Absolutely.” Charlie looked back at Dana, who was drawing intently. “And you know what? I think I just found a new best friend.”

The next morning, Dana sat at the kitchen table, her legs dangling off the floor as she concentrated on her breakfast. Dean poured himself a cup of coffee while Sam conferred with Charlie in the living room. “So… you’re going back to the bank?” Charlie asked, her eyebrows raised curiously.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. We still have some business to take care of with those goblins. The transfer of Dana’s inheritance isn’t quite done yet.”

“And Rowena’s coming back?” Charlie asked with a slight grin. “You have a soft spot for that witch, don’t you?” Dean walked into the room with his mug of coffee and grunted something unintelligible. “We need her. But that doesn’t mean I trust her.” Charlie laughed. “You don’t trust anyone, Dean.”

Dana looked up from her breakfast and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Are we going somewhere?” Sam smiled at her. “Yeah, we’re going back to the bank. There are still some things we need to take care of for you.”

Dana nodded slowly, putting down her fork. “Okay.” Dean looked at Charlie. “What about you? Are you coming or are you staying here?”

Charlie jumped up excitedly. “I’m coming! I don’t want to miss this. Magic banks and goblins? Come on, that sounds like an adventure.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure. An adventure.”

The four of them met Rowena outside the magical district and after introductions had been made, Rowena made sure Charlie could see the magical high street, causing Charlie to squeal in delight. “Are you sure you cant adopt me either Dean,” she teased him. Dana smiled and grabbed Sams hand, as the four of them walked over to the bank.

They were greeted by Axan, who led them to a hidden, heavily guarded chamber deep in the basement of Gringotts America. The walls glittered with magical inscriptions, and in the center of the room stood an intricate, runic-encrusted stone slab. Axan, the goblin who accompanied them, looked gravely at Dana.

“We have found a way to remove the cursed fragment,” Axan began. His sharp eyes slid to Dean and Sam. “We have looked at several options but the one we will use has the best potential to work. But the process is dangerous and… painful.”

Dean stepped forward immediately. “Then I will stay with her.” Axan shook his head. “That is impossible. The spells and rituals require only her to be present, along with the Goblins and cursebreakers who can remove it.”

Dean’s face tightened. “That won’t happen. She’s still a child. She won’t go through that alone.”

Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, but he too looked concerned. “Is there really no other way?”

“No safe way,” Axan said. “If you try to interfere, the magic could kill you. We have experience with this.” Dana looked uncertainly at the stone slab, then at Dean. “Do I really have to?”

Rowena stepped forward and crouched down next to Dana. Her gaze was soft, but serious. “Sweetheart, this is important. The fragment inside you is dark magic. If we don’t remove it, it could affect you.” Dana swallowed, her small hands clenching into fists. “Okay.”

Dean shook his head, his voice firm. “No. I won’t let her do this alone.” Axan stepped forward. “It’s not up to you, Winchester. This is her choice.” Dana looked up at Dean, her eyes wide. “I can do it. I really can.”

Dean looked at her, his heart in his throat. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Okay. But I’m here. I’ll wait for you.” Dana nodded, and Rowena helped her up the slab. Charlie took Dana’s hand for a moment and squeezed it reassuringly. “You’re braver than most people I know, kiddo.”

The large doors of the room closed behind Dana, Axan, and a few other goblins. Dean remained staring at the doors, his jaw set. Charlie put a hand on his arm. “She’ll make it, Dean.” Dean said nothing, but his hands curled into fists.

After a few minutes, the doors opened again and Axan stepped out. “I apologize, but Dana is very scared and has doubts. I assume she put on a brave face earlier.” Dean shot up. “Then forget it. We can deal with it when she is older.” Axan held up his hand. “I sad earlier that no others could be present, but I was mistaken in that assessment. It slipped my mind that Miss MacLeod is a witch and as such could be present. Would this be alright?”

Dean snarled. Sam stood next to him and held him back. “Behave Dean. Let Rowena go. This needs to happen and better Rowena, who she knows, than nobody at all.” Sam gave a nod to Rowena, who in a rare sign of kindness for the gruff hunter, walked to Dean and put her hand on his cheek. “I’ll watch over her Dean. I know you and I are not friends, and I know we never will be, but I am very fond of that little girl.”

Rowena walked into the chamber where Dana was crying while she was sitting on the stone slab. Rowena hugged her until the crying subside and whispered in her ear. After a few minutes Dana calmed down and Rowena helped her lay down. Rowena, the goblins and two cursebreakers gathered around her. Axan began to recite an ancient, unintelligible ritual. The inscriptions on the walls began to glow, and a cold wind filled the room.

“Lay still, my love,” Rowena whispered.

Dana felt the magic swirl around her, as if it wanted to seize her. Her breathing quickened, but she remained lying down.

Axan chanted and raised his hands, the cursebreakers followed his example and a black mist began to seep out of Dana’s scar. It felt like her head was on fire. Dana screamed and convulsed on top of the slab. Rowena’s heart broke at the sound, but she remained focused. “Stay strong, Dana! It’s almost over!”

The black mist tried to cling to Dana, but the goblins and cursebreakers continued to sing. The magic grew stronger, and the shadow began to move into a silver crystal that Axan held. Dana sank back down to her back, lying down again, her hands pressed to her forehead. The burning sensation slowly began to subside.

“Is it done?” she whispered. Rowena knelt beside her and placed a hand on her back. “Yes, love. It’s gone. You did it.” Axan looked at the crystal in his hands, which held the bit of Voldemort’s soul. “The dangerous part is over.” Rowena gently helped Dana to her feet. “Let’s go back. Dean is waiting for you.”

The doors finally opened, and Dean burst through. He knelt down next to Dana and pulled her into a tight hug. He held her so tightly it was as if he were afraid she would disappear again. “You’re okay,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “You’re safe.”

Dana nodded against his shoulder, her small arms wrapped around his neck. “It hurt.”

“I know,” Dean said. “But it’s over.” Sam stepped up next to them, a worried look on his face. “Is it really gone?” Rowena nodded. “Yes. She’s free of it.”

Charlie wiped away a tear and smiled at Dana. “You’re a badass, you know that?” Dana laughed weakly and looked at Charlie. “Really?”

Charlie nodded with a wide smile. “Absolutely. I know adults who would fall apart at what you just went through.” Dean lifted Dana up in his arms, his face soft but determined. “We’re going home.” Dana leaned against his shoulder. Charlie watched Dean hold Dana in his arms and gave Sam a knowing look. “He’s changed.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Yes. This has affected him in a way I didn’t expect.” Rowena walked slowly toward them, her gaze serious. “This is just the beginning, gentlemen. There will be more dangers to come. But this girl has something special inside her.”

Dean looked up, his gaze sharp. “And we will protect her. No matter what.” Axan stepped forward, the silver crystal in his hands. “This,” he said slowly, “is the piece of his soul. What do you want us to do with it?”

Dean’s gaze slid to the crystal, his eyes dark with determination. “Destroy it. Make sure it never hurts anyone again.” Axan nodded and turned. “It will be done.” Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”

As they walked down the hall, Dana looked back one more time at the room where the ritual had taken place. Her hand slid to her forehead, where the scar was now barely visible.

Chapter Text

Dean stood at the workbench in the bunker garage, cleaning his weapons. He had always been the type to feel calm when he was doing something practical. But even now he felt tense. Dana had just had a rough day, and he was determined to protect her no matter what.

Sam walked in with a stack of books under his arm. “Rowena sent over some old documents. She wants us to look at them.”

Dean grunted something unintelligible and put down his cloth. “Later. I want to make sure everything is secure first.” Suddenly, a loud, echoing sound came from the bunker entrance. Dean looked up immediately, his hand darting to the nearest weapon.

“Sam,” he said sharply. Sam nodded and walked quickly to the monitors. “There’s someone at the door.” Dean grabbed his rifle and moved silently toward the stairs. “Stay with Dana. I’ll handle this.”

When Dean opened the heavy metal door, there stood an older man with a long silver beard and a bright blue cloak. He looked at Dean kindly but firmly.

“Good day,” the man began calmly. “My name is Albus Dumbledore.” Dean raised his rifle, his gaze hard. “Not one step closer.” Albus raised his free hand, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. “I come in peace. I am here to speak to you and your brother about Dana.”

The girl’s name made Dean’s gaze darken even more. “Dana is safe. And you will stay away from her.”

“I have no doubt that you will protect her,” Albus replied calmly. “But it is imperative that I speak to her.”

“That will not happen.” Dean took a step forward, his rifle still aimed. “You should be glad I didn’t shoot you right away.” Albus sighed deeply. “Mr. Winchester, you don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly well,” Dean snapped. “You’re one of those so-called protectors who left her with those monsters who called themselves family.” Albus blinked, clearly moved by Dean’s words. “I’ve made mistakes, I won’t deny that. But I want to make it right.”

“Too late,” Dean said coldly. “She has a family now.” At that moment, Dean heard the rustle of feathers. He turned to see Castiel appear, his trench coat blowing in the wind.

“Dean,” Castiel said in his usual monotone voice. Albus looked at the angel with interest. “Ah, a seraph. I’d heard you guys existed.” Castiel looked back, his blue eyes fixed on Albus. “And I’d heard about your kind.” Dean growled. “Cas, he wants to talk to Dana. What do you think?”

Castiel kept his gaze on Albus. “What do you want from her?”

“I want to ensure her safety,” Albus said honestly. “She is special. Her magic is unique, and the world is dangerous for children like her.” Castiel stepped forward and stood between Dean and Albus. “She is safe here. Dean and Sam will protect her.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Albus said softly. “But there are forces in the magical world that want to find her. And they will not hesitate to do so by force.”

Dean took a deep breath, his anger still visible. “We have faced demons, angels, and even death himself. Do you really think a few wizards will scare us?” Albus smiled faintly. “Maybe not. But I am sure you understand the importance of being prepared.” Dana suddenly appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Dean? Who's that?"

Dean turned around immediately, his face softening when he saw Dana. "Go back inside, kiddo. Everything's okay." Albus looked at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Dana."

Dana looked back, her gaze uncertain. "Do you know me?"

"Yes," Albus said softly. "I knew your parents." Dean stepped directly in front of her, his gaze dangerous. "That's far enough. You've had your say." Castiel put his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Maybe we should listen." Dean looked at his friend, clearly struggling with himself. Finally, he sighed and nodded slowly.

"Come in," Dean said curtly to Albus. "But if you try anything, you'll a dead man." Albus smiled weakly and stepped inside. "I just want to help."

"We'll see about that," Dean muttered as he closed the door behind them.

The heavy door to the bunker slammed shut behind Albus. Dean, Sam, and Castiel followed him inside, Dean always a step closer than necessary, as if he expected Albus to do something dangerous at any moment.

“Sit down,” Dean ordered, pointing to one of the chairs by the table in the library. Albus did as he was told, looking around in silent admiration. “You have an impressive collection of knowledge here.”

“Not relevant,” Dean said curtly. “Start talking.” Albus folded his hands in his lap and looked first at Sam, then at Dean. “I understand that you are suspicious. And rightly so.” “Dude, you have no idea, but you will,” growled Dean.

Albus sat quietly as the brothers told their story. His hands rested in his lap, but his eyes were more serious than ever. Dean took a deep breath before speaking. “We found her near a motel we were staying at after a hunt,” Dean began. His voice was sharp, as if he were still angry at the memory. “She was sitting there. Alone. No coat, completely soaked.”

Albus nodded slowly, but said nothing. He let Dean continue. “She was starving,” Dean continued. “We took her inside, gave her something to eat. She was quiet… and afraid. And when we finally got some food into her, she threw it up because she had not eaten in four friggin days!” His voice became louder.

Sam joined in. “Her uncle had thrown her out of the car. Two days before. She had been wandering around outside the whole time. No money, no food. She even thought it was her own fault.”

At those last words, Albus’ face suddenly looked a lot older. His eyes, normally sparkling with wisdom, looked tired. “She thought it was her own fault?” he asked softly.

Sam nodded. “Yes. She said her uncle always told her she was a freak. That she was worthless. That she didn’t deserve to be loved.” Albus took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on a spot somewhere on the table. “I knew her stay with the Dursleys would be hard… but I never thought they would treat her like this.”

Dean shot forward, his gaze fierce. “You should have known that. You say you wanted to protect her, but you left her with people who hated her.” Albus closed his eyes briefly. “I misjudged. I thought physical safety was more important than emotional well-being.”

“Well, you were wrong,” Dean said sharply. “She was afraid to eat. Afraid we would punish her if she did something wrong. A child shouldn’t feel this way.” Sam looked at Albus, his tone a little softer than his brother’s. “She’s strong, but she didn’t learn it naturally. She’s strong because she had to survive.”

Albus opened his eyes and looked at Sam. “And yet she found you. You saved her.” Dean sighed. “Yes. But we want to do more than that. We want her to have a normal life. No threats from magical groups, no secrets. She deserves to just be a child.” Albus nodded slowly. “And that’s why I’m here. I want to help make sure she gets that life. Without fear.”

A silence fell in the room, broken only by the soft rustle of Castiel’s trench coat as he moved. Albus scanned the library, as if searching for the right words. After a few moments, he spoke slowly, as if carefully weighing the weight of his words.

“You may have heard of Voldemort,” he began, his voice heavy with seriousness. “But he was not alone. He was surrounded by a group of followers who called themselves Death Eaters.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Death Eaters? What kind of name is that?”

“A name that spread fear,” Albus said, his gaze dark. “The Death Eaters were his followers. They were prepared to kill, torture, and destroy lives in his name. They believed in his ideal of magical supremacy. To them, Muggles and Muggle-borns were inferior, and only pure-blood wizards were worthy of living.”

Sam leaned forward. “So they were extremists?”

“That is an accurate description,” Albus confirmed. “Many of them came from old, wealthy wizarding families who believed their bloodline gave them power. They felt threatened by the increasing equality in the wizarding world and were willing to do anything to maintain their status.” Dean’s gaze darkened. “And they were just following a madman who wanted to wipe everyone out?”

“Voldemort was more than a madman,” Albus said softly. “He was extremely intelligent and charismatic. He knew how to manipulate people and use their fears. But the most dangerous thing about him was his obsession with immortality and power. He saw himself as a savior of the wizarding world.” Castiel, who had been listening quietly, now spoke. “And what happened to these Death Eaters after he fell?”

“Many of them were captured and sent to Azkaban, the wizarding prison,” Albus explained. “But some escaped justice. They went underground, waited, hoped for his return.” Sam was the first to speak. “Albus, there’s something else you need to know.”

The old wizard looked up, his blue eyes searching. “I’m listening.” Dean straightened and stepped forward. “Dana carried something inside her. Something dark.”

Albus raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. He waited, his face a mask of calm curiosity. Sam sighed softly. “When we took her to Gringotts America, the goblins discovered that a fragment of Voldemort’s soul was inside her.” Albus stiffened. “A Horcrux.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Yes. She had it with her since that night… the night her parents died.”

“And you removed that fragment?” Albus asked, his voice soft but charged with tension. “The goblins did it,” Sam explained. “They performed a ritual to separate the fragment from her and destroy it. It was painful for her, but she if fine now.”

After that revelation Dean got up and made coffee. He even offered some to the old wizard. In the meantime he checked in on Dana, who was making a puzzle in her room.

In the library, Albus sat at the table, his hands folded in front of him. He looked at Dean, Sam, and Castiel with a thoughtful gaze. The silence in the room was tense, and it felt as if everyone was waiting for what he was going to say.

“There is a way,” Albus began slowly. “A spell that can make the bunker completely untraceable to anyone who doesn’t know the secret. It’s called the Fidelius Charm.”

Dean raised his eyebrow. “The what?”

“The Fidelius Charm is one of the most powerful protection spells in the magical world,” Albus explained. “It hides a secret within the soul of one person—the Secret Keeper. Only that person can share the secret. Without their permission, no one can find its location, no matter what magic they use.” Sam leaned forward, his eyes interested. “So even if someone knows the bunker exists, they can’t find it without the Secret Keeper?”

“Exactly,” Albus confirmed. “The spell makes it literally impossible to reveal the location unless the Keeper of Secrets willingly shares it.” Castiel looked at Albus thoughtfully. “And who would the Keeper of Secrets be?”

Albus looked at Dean. “It makes sense that Dean would be the person.” Dean looked skeptical. “Me?”

“Yes,” Albus said without hesitation. “Dana is your daughter now that you have adopted her. It would only make sense that you would be the one protecting her location.” Dean lowered his gaze, his jaw set. He considered what that would mean—the responsibility, the risks. But he already knew what his answer would be.

“I will,” he said finally, his voice firm. Sam looked at his brother, a soft smile on his face. “You’re sure?” Dean looked up, his gaze fierce. “There’s no other option. If anyone tries to find her, they have to go through me. And that's not going to happen." Albus nodded approvingly. "It's not a light responsibility. But I think you're the right person to bear it."

Castiel stepped forward. "And what happens if someone tries to force Dean to reveal the secret?"

"The spell protects against everything," Albus explained. "Only if Dean reveals the secret willingly, someone would know where the bunker is. Should Dean die, everyone who knows the location becomes a Secret Keeper."

Dean took a deep breath. "Good. What do we need to do to make this happen?"

Chapter Text

The air in the bunker felt heavy, and the energy of the spell still lingered in the walls. Dean stood at the door to the library, his arms crossed as Albus draped his cloak around his shoulders. Sam sat at the table, his gaze thoughtful. It was a strange feeling that after the spell was cast, he no longer remembered where the bunker was—until Dean told him.

Albus looked at Dean, his blue eyes serious but kind. “I want to thank you for your trust. I know it hasn’t been easy.” Dean snorted softly. “Trust? Let’s not talk about that. This was about what’s best for Dana.”

Albus smiled weakly. “And that’s exactly why she’s safe with you. But I want a promise from you.” Sam leaned forward slightly. “What promise?”

“That when Dana is old enough, she’ll have the chance to come to Hogwarts,” Albus said. “She deserves that education. Her parents would have wanted that for her. And I think it’s important that she learns about her own world.” Dean’s gaze sharpened. “We’ll see how she feels when the time comes. We’re not going to send her anywhere she doesn’t want to.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “But if she wants to, we’ll make sure she gets the chance.” Albus nodded gratefully. “That’s all I ask.”

There was a brief silence, as Albus picked up his wand and headed for the door. He stopped at the threshold and turned around one last time. “I’m sure her parents would be proud of you,” he said softly. “You’ve given her a family. Something she never had.”

Dean’s face softened a fraction. “We’ll take care of her. That’s what family does.” Albus smiled and gave a brief nod. “Goodbye, gentlemen. And take good care of her.”

Sam and Dean nodded, and Castiel, who had been watching silently the entire time, stepped forward. “I’ll make sure he gets back to England safely.”

“Thank you, Castiel,” Albus said with a respectful bow. With a soft flash of light, Castiel disappeared with Albus, leaving the silence in the bunker behind.

Dean took a deep breath and looked at Sam. “Hogwarts, huh?” Sam grinned weakly. “You know she wants to. When she’s ready, she’ll want to go.” Dean nodded slowly. “If that’s what she wants…

*** 

Rowena stood on a ridge just outside Lebanon, Kansas. It irked her that she somehow forgot where Sam and Dean lived. She had always known where the bunker was and now the knowledge was simply gone. Her Phone chimed. She opened the message, which read;

The location of the bunker where Sam and Dean Winchester live in Lebanon, Kansas, followed by the coordinates.

Rowena laughed softly...a secretkeepingspell. Clever, very clever, but she was also certain that the men had not come up with it themselves.

***

Charlie sat on her bike, looking around in confusion. She was on her way to see the brothers and that adorable little girl she already considered a sister, when all of a sudden, she didn’t know where to go. What the frack? She called Sam, who answered on the third ring. "Dude, what’s going on? Why can't I remember where you guys live?"

Sam chuckled and told her to wait a few moments, and that she would get a text. And sure enough, after 2 minutes of staring at her screen, the message came. The minute she read it, the memories of the bunker came back to her. "Sam, you have got to explain this to me!"

***

Crowley stood in a dark room, a map of the United States spread out on the table in front of him. Candles flickered around him as he performed an intricate ritual, his fingers tracing the lines of the map. “Where are you hiding, Winchesters?” he muttered.

The candle flames suddenly died down, and Crowley had a destroyed map and was none the wiser. How...peculiar. Wizards... No wonder demons did not deal with them. When it was time to collect the soul, they simply hid themselves and the Hellhouds could no longer find them. Annoyed, he picked up his phone and called Dean.

"Crowley, what do you want?" came the gruff reply on the other end. "Squirrel. Do be so kind and stop hiding yourself from me. This is highly unpractical." He heard Dean chuckle before the line was disconnected. "Bastard," Crowley muttered to himself. After a few minutes however, he received a text with the coordinates to the bunker. "Well well," Crowley grinned.

Chapter Text

Six months later…

It all started innocently enough. Dana sat at the long wooden table in the bunker’s library, her legs dangling over the edge of the chair as she watched Sam flip through a stack of books. Dean sat on the other side of the room, engrossed in cleaning his gun.

“Why are you doing that?” Dana asked curiously, her gaze fixed on Dean. “Maintenance,” Dean mumbled without looking up. “Guns don’t stay clean on their own, kiddo.”

Dana glanced at Sam when an idea came up. She pssst at Sam, who looked up. He saw her mischievous look and looked intrigued. She made a gesture with her head towards Dean and grinned. Sam had a marvelous idea. It had been too long since he properly pranked his brother and now he had a partner in crime. He wiggled his eyebrows and whispered, “Wanna have some fun?”

Dean looked from Sam to Dana and back again. He narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on over there?” Dana had a very guilty look on her face but he was more alarmed at the sheer devilish look his younger brother sported. “I swear if you guys try anything—”

But little did he know, the challenge had already been accepted.

Dean walked into the kitchen the next morning, still half asleep, and went straight to the coffee pot. He poured himself a large mug, took a long sip… and immediately spat it out.

“What the hell?” His gaze fell on the mug. The coffee was… purple? Dana watched with Sam from around the corner, saw Dean's face and ducked behind Sam, giggling. “Good morning, Dean!” Dean narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you change my coffee to… this?” Dana grinned widely. “Maybe.”

Sam feigned innocence. “It was probably just a glitch in the coffee pot.”

Dean growled. “This means war.”

That same afternoon, Dana sat at the kitchen table with a sandwich in her hand. She took a big bite and suddenly stopped. “Why does this taste so weird?”

Sam looked at her sandwich curiously. “What’s on it?” Dana opened the sandwich and saw white mayonnaise… which had been replaced with vanilla pudding. “Ugh! Dean!”

Dean walked into the kitchen, grinning widely. “That, kiddo, is how you pay back a prank.” Dana narrowed her eyes at him and Sam snorted. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

The next morning, Dean stepped into the shower, enjoying the warm water running down his back. He reached for his shampoo and began to wash his hair.

After a few seconds, he noticed something was wrong. “Why is this so foamy?” He looked down and saw that his entire body was covered in foam… in every color of the rainbow.

“Sam! Dana!” In the hallway, Sam and Dana were doubled over laughing as Dean stormed out of the bathroom with brightly colored soap bubbles, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“This isn’t over!” Dean yelled. And so the prank war continued, with peals of laughter echoing through the bunker. For the first time in a long time, the bunker felt like a real home. A place where they were not only safe but happy.

***

The bunker felt warmer than ever before. The soft light from the lamps fell on the wooden table in the common room, which was filled with decorations, presents, and a large, homemade cake. Dean, with Sam’s help, had prepared most of it. But it was clear that the finishing touches had been the work of Rowena and Charlie, magical streamers that shimmered softly in the air, and balloons that floated without strings.

Dana stood in the center of the room, her eyes wide and bright. She was wearing a simple dress that Sam had picked out, but it was the smile on her face that really made her shine.

“Is this… for me?” she asked softly. Dean stepped forward, a wide grin on his face. “Of course, it’s for you, kiddo. It’s your birthday.”

“Your tenth birthday,” Sam added, neatly rearranging a few presents. Dana looked down at the cake. “I’ve never had a real birthday before.”

The room fell silent for a moment. Everyone knew what that meant, how hard her life had been before she ended up with the brothers. But before anyone could say anything, Charlie jumped forward with her usual enthusiasm.

“Well, it’s high time we made up for it!” she said with a wide smile. “I mean, look at this cake. We have candles and everything. And presents! And streamers! This is a birthday worthy of a Potter.”

Rowena stood at the edge of the room, her arms crossed but her gaze warm. “I have to admit, Dean, you did your best. It doesn’t even look bad.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the compliment, Rowena.” At that moment, there was a knock at the bunker door. Castiel suddenly appeared next to Dean, looking at him with his usual serious gaze. “Jody’s arrived.”

Dean took a deep breath. “Good. Let her in.” The heavy door creaked open, and Jody Mills stepped into the bunker. Her eyes darted curiously around as she took in the room. But when her gaze fell on Dana, her entire face softened.

“Dana,” she said softly. Dana looked curiously at the woman. “You’re Jody?”

Jody smiled and nodded. “That’s right. And I’ve heard a lot about you.” Dana looked at Sam and Dean, who both nodded, encouragingly. She stepped forward cautiously, her gaze uncertain.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” Jody crouched down so she was eye level with Dana. “It’s an honor to meet you. And please call me Jody, ma’am makes me feel old. You have wonderful people around you, but if you ever need anyone… I’m here for you.”

Dana’s eyes glistened with tears that she tried to hold back. “Thank you.” Jody smiled and held out her hand. “Now, let’s cut that cake before Charlie eats it all.” Charlie chuckled. “Hey, that’s unfair!” Everyone laughed, and the tension in the room broke like a wave. Dean lit the candles on the cake and looked at Dana.

“Come on, kiddo. Make a wish.” Dana looked at the candles, her eyes wide with excitement. She closed her eyes for a moment, thought deeply, and then blew out all the candles in one breath. The room erupted in applause and cheers.

Rowena stepped forward and placed a hand on Dana’s shoulder. “So, what was your wish?” Dana looked at her with a small smile. “If I tell you, it might not come true.” Rowena winked. “Smart girl.” Castiel looked around, his gaze serious as always. “This feels like family.” Dean nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on Dana. “It is.”

Dana looked around at the people in the room; Sam, Dean, Charlie, Rowena, Castiel, and Jody and felt for the first time that she truly belonged somewhere. “This is the best birthday ever.”

Chapter Text

One year later.

The morning started like any other in the bunker. Dean sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, leafing through a book, while Dana quietly ate her breakfast. Sam was nowhere to be seen; he had left to help Garth with a case, which meant that today it was just Dean and Dana.

It was quiet, until a soft tap on the door interrupted their routine.

Dana looked up in surprise. “Who could that be?” Dean put down his mug and walked carefully to the door. He opened the heavy metal and looked surprised at what he saw.

A large owl sat on the stoop, a letter in its beak. Dean frowned. “Um… Dana?”

Dana stepped forward curiously. When her gaze fell on the owl, her expression changed from surprise to pure excitement. “That’s it!” she called out. “My Hogwarts letter!” Dean looked at her and then back at the owl. “Wait… this is really how they deliver these things? I thought Rowena was messing with me.”

Dana giggled as she stepped forward and took the letter from the owl’s beak. The animal gave her a brief hoot and then flew away, its wings rustling softly in the morning air.

Dana turned the envelope over in her hands, her fingers gently running over the sealed Hogwarts emblem. “It’s real,” she whispered, almost to herself. Dean walked back to the kitchen table and sat down. “Now, open it.”

Dana nodded, her hands shaking slightly with excitement as she broke the seal and opened the letter. Her eyes scanned the words on the parchment. “Dear Dana Potter…” she began aloud, her voice full of wonder. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…”

Dean looked at her with a soft smile. “That means it’s really happening. You’re going to that school.” Dana nodded slowly, but her smile faded a little. She folded the letter carefully and looked at Dean, her gaze searching.

“But… that also means I’m leaving,” she said softly. “You.” Dean’s smile faded as well. He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at her seriously. “Yeah, that means you’ll be gone for a while. But it doesn’t mean you’ll lose us, kiddo. We’re still your family.”

Dana bit her lip, her eyes shining with emotions she didn’t quite understand. She stepped closer to Dean. “I know,” she said softly. “But… it feels weird.”

Dean nodded slowly. “I get it. It’s a big change, but your mom and dad went to that school right, so I think you at least should give it a try?” Dana took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you Dad.”

The words were out before she knew it. Her eyes widened in shock, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Dean froze. He blinked a few times, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly.

“What did you just say?” he asked softly. Dana blushed brightly and looked down at the ground. “It just came out. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted her, his voice soft but firm. He stood up and stepped toward her. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder. “No sorry. Really.” Dana looked up, her eyes wide and uncertain. “It just felt… right.”

Dean smiled, and this time it was a smile that softened his entire face. “You know what? It feels right to me, too.” Dana’s lip began to tremble, and before she knew it, she was wrapping her arms around Dean. He held her tightly to him, his hand gently stroking her hair.

“You have nothing to be afraid of, kiddo,” he whispered. “We’ll always be your family. Whether you’re here or in that castle.” Dana sniffed softly and pulled back a little, her eyes still glistening. “Thank you, Daddy.” Dean nodded, his own eyes a little more moist than usual. “You’re welcome, kiddo.”

When Sam came home a little while later, he noticed that there was an owl outside the bunker and he smiled. The majestic animal was perched on the metal bars outside the bunker doors and hooted at Sam as he walked by. He opened the door to the bunker and walked down the stairs. He opened his arms just in time, before Dana  rushed to him and jumped in his arms. “Uncle Sam, uncle Sam, the letter came!” She looked up at him with a contagious big smile and he grinned back. “Well that’s great kiddo!” Dana dragged him along and he grinned at Dean, who looked mighty proud.

Dana showed him the letter and he dumped his bag on the floor, before he sat down and read the letter. While he was reading the letter Dana hopped around with excitement. “What do you think?” she inquired. “Well, we need the let them know if you want to go there. The owl is waiting outside for your reply.” Dana looked over at Dean. “So I can answer them that I wanna come?” Dean winked at her. “You go find some paper and we will write a reply to them.” With that Dana let out another squeal and raced to her room. “Be right back Dad!”

Sam froze for a moment, his eyebrows shooting up as he glanced at Dean. Dean gave a small shrug, his face softening with emotion.

“She called you Dad,” Sam said quietly, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Dean smiled, his voice low. “Yeah. She did.”

Dana came back running and held a piece of paper in her hands. “I wrote down that I would like to come, and wrote down my name.” She showed Dean. He swallowed when he saw her name:

Dana Lilian Potter-Winchester

“Let’s go find that bird,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. They walked up the stairs, opened the door and Dana saw the big owl perched on the metal rod. She looked at the bird and then at Dean. “Uhm… I actually have no idea what to do here,” she giggled. The bird ruffled his feathers and hooted at her. He hopped a bit closer. Dana held the note in her hand. “I addressed it to professor McGonagall. Uhm, she needs to get this. Will you take it to her?” The owl hooted and stuck out his leg. Dean snorted and with some tumbling the note was attached to the leg and the bird had left.

***

Later that evening, after Dana had gone to bed, Dean stood in the bunker kitchen, his hands tightly gripping a mug of coffee. He stared at the wall as if that was where he would find the answers to the questions that haunted his mind. The sound of footsteps brought him back to the present. Sam entered the kitchen, his face serious.

“We need to talk,” Sam began bluntly. Dean took a sip of his coffee and put the mug down. “Sounds serious.”

“It is.” Sam leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “Do you know what we’re going to do when Dana goes to Hogwarts?” Dean shrugged. “She’s going there, we’re staying here. We’ll send letters, and if she comes back here during vacations.”

Sam shook his head slowly. “That’s not enough, Dean. She’s only ten. She’s going to a completely different world. She needs us there.” Dean’s jaw tightened. “So what do you propose? That we leave everything here and move to friggin England?”

“Yes,” Sam answered without hesitation. “Why not? We have nothing to keep us here. The bunker is a good base, but our priority now is Dana. And you know as well as I do that she could be in danger. We can’t be thousands of miles away if something happens.”

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I know, Sam. But it’s not that simple. This is our home base. Everything we have is here, we help other hunters from here.” Sam stepped forward and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Our home base is where we can keep her safe. It could be in England. We could find a place, something similar to the bunker, but there.”

Dean looked at his brother, doubt visible in his eyes. “What if it doesn’t work? What if we don’t fit in there?”

“We fit in wherever we can make sure Dana is safe,” Sam said softly. “She’s been through so much. She deserves to know that we’re always there for her, not just by letter.” Dean thought for a moment, his gaze sliding to the kitchen door where Dana had disappeared not long ago.

“I just want her to be happy,” he mumbled.

“We both do,” Sam confirmed. “And I think the best way to do that is to stay close to her. She needs a family that’s really there.” Dean slumped his shoulders and gave a short nod. “We’ll find something. Something that works for both of us. But I don’t want her to think we’re smothering her.”

Sam smiled. “She’ll see it for what it is: love.” Dean took another sip of his coffee and grinned weakly. “So… England, huh?”

Sam nodded. “England.” Dean sighed deeply. “Then we’ll just have to find some better coffee. I hear they only drink tea there.”

Chapter Text

Dean and Sam sat at the table in the bunker’s library, a pile of parchments and old documents spread out before them. Dana sat on the couch, engrossed in a book she had picked out earlier during their visit to the magical district. The soft sound of her turning pages filled the room.

Dean held up a piece of parchment and read it aloud. “Potter Manor. Location: Godric’s Hollow.” He glanced at Sam. “This sounds important.” Sam nodded as he studied another document. “It was once the Potter family home. But… that doesn’t feel right.”

Dean frowned. “Why not?”

“Think about it,” Sam explained. “That house is historic. Everyone in the magical world knows about Godric’s Hollow. If we move there, it will only draw attention to ourselves. We want Dana to remain safe and anonymous.” Dean sighed and tossed the document onto the pile. “You’re right.”

Sam picked up another document and began to read. His eyebrows shot up. “Here’s something interesting.” Dean leaned forward. “What is it?”

“The Potters owned several properties. There is indeed the one in Godric’s Hollow, but there is also a townhouse in Londen, a cottage in Southampton, an old Manor in Wales and a few houses in Hogsmeade. According to the goblins, they recommend the townhouse in Londen or the cottage in Southampton.”

Dean hummed. “Londen is convenient. Big city, with lots to do. We could go anywhere from there. And doesn’t the train leave there, the Hogwarts something something…” He made a gesture with his hands. “The Hogwarts Express, according to the letter.” Sam leaved through the information in front of him. “The cottage is surrounded by woodlands and gives us more privacy. There are old protection spells around the cottage, it has several rooms, there should be a library.”

Dana walked towards the table. “Dad,” she asked, and Dean looked up. “Maybe we can choose them both? The townhouse for dropping me off to Hogwarts and the vacations we can spend in the cottage?” Dean mused and looked at his brother. “It’s not a bad idea. Maybe Rowena can set something up, so we can be there a bit faster.”

***

The bunker felt alive that morning. Dana sat on the couch, engrossed in a book, while Dean and Sam went through the latest documents on the townhouse and the cottage. They would start in the townhouse and later on, they would visit the cottage. After that, they would decide where to live for the most part. But now came the hard part—telling their friends.

Sam put down his pen and looked at Dean. “Shall we start with Castiel?” Dean nodded slowly. “Yes, he deserves to know this first.”

Sam stood up and stepped to the center of the room. He closed his eyes and spoke softly. “Castiel, we need you.” Not a minute had passed before Castiel appeared in a flash of light. His blue eyes immediately took in the room.

“Sam. Dean.” Castiel’s gaze slid to Dana, who greeted him with a broad smile. “Dana.” Dean held up his hand. “Cas, we need to talk to you.” Castiel tilted his head slightly. “What’s going on?”

“We’re moving,” Sam said simply. “To England.” Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

“Dana,” Dean said. “We want her to go to Hogwarts, but we also want to be close enough to protect her.” Castiel nodded slowly, absorbing the news. “That makes sense. You take your responsibilities seriously. But are you sure this is the right decision?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Yes. We’ve thought this through. This is what’s best for her.” Castiel stepped over to Dana and knelt in front of her. “Do you know that I’m always close by, no matter where you are?”

Dana nodded, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you, Uncle Castiel.”

At that moment, there was a shrill knocking on the heavy doors of the bunker. Dean frowned and walked to the door. When he opened it, Charlie was standing there, her motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm. “So, what’s going on?” she asked, grinning as she stepped inside.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You’re right on time.” Charlie grinned widely. “I got a feeling and was already in your neck of the woods. What news do you have?”

Sam walked over and gave her a quick hug. “We’re moving to England.” Charlie’s eyes widened. “To England? Seriously? That’s great!”

Dana jumped up from the couch. “Yes! We’re going to live in Londen!” Charlie clapped her hands enthusiastically. “Oh, that sounds fantastic! Have you found a place yet?” Dean nodded. “Two actually, a townhouse and a cottage. We going to see them both and then choose.”

Charlie wiggled her eyebrows. “So when are you leaving?”

“In a few days,” Sam said. “We still have a few things to sort out, but most of it is done.” Just as Charlie was about to respond, another light flashed in the room. Rowena appeared, her cloak draped gracefully around her.

“Oh, look at that,” she said with a playful smile. “A social gathering, and I wasn’t invited?” Dean grunted. “You’re always invited, Rowena. Whether we like it or not.” Rowena grinned widely. “That’s so sweet of you, Dean.” She turned her attention to Dana, her gaze softening. “So, I take it there is big news?”

“We’re going to England,” Dana said proudly. Rowena’s eyes glinted with curiosity. “England, you say? And where in England would that be lass?” Dana smirked shyly at the word lass. “Londen or Southampton.”

“We want Dana to be safe and to be able to stay close to her when she goes to Hogwarts.” Sam explained. So the townhouse in Londen is the best choice, but we haven’t ruled out the cottage. Rowena nodded approvingly. “A wise decision. And I assume you need me to add some protection?” Dean grinned. “That would be handy.”

***

Sam was packing his bag and looked at what he could and could not bring with him. His phone rang and he saw Rowena as the caller ID. “Rowena?” he answered. “Samuel. I have been thinking. About the moving part. I have an idea…is Dean there?”

“Dean is with Dana, doing some last-minute shopping for the trip. Why don’t you come over and explain your…idea?”

So a little while later, when everyone was present Rowena presented her idea. She stood in front of them as she spoke.

“The bunker is the home base. You work from here and help others right?” Sam and Dean nodded. “So, if you move, then what? You are not sure if you can hunt in England and when you get bored, who knows what would happen then,” she said mockingly. Dean bristled. “You done?”

Rowena smiled sweetly. “Not just yet. I propose to set up a portal. With a bit of preparation, I can connect the bunker to the House in Londen and the cottage. That way, you can travel much faster and…you do not have to leave everything behind.”

Dean didn’t trust Rowena. But in this case, he wanted to hug her, kiss her and give her the moon. He of course never said it out loud, but moving scared him. For Rowena was right, he would become bored. There was an itch, a need to be on the road, to hunt, to help people. For the last months, he and Sam had worked with other hunters, so one of them was always with Dana, but man…he missed it. This, this could make it work. So the big hunter stood up, walked over to Rowena, grabbed her and kissed her on her cheek.

Rowena froze. Her eyes flickered to Dean, and for a split second, something soft crossed her gaze before she put her usual mask back on. “Oh, Dean,” she said with a playful smile to hide her discomfort. “If I knew that was your way of saying thank you, I would have done much more for you.” Dean shook his head with a slight smile. “Let’s not overdo it.”

Rowena turned to sit down at the table, to make her preparations Dana saw how she let her hand run briefly over her cheek, a rare expression of warmth on her face.

***

They had decided to go to England the normal way, by plane. Castiel had offered to zap them to England, but Dana asked if they could go the way other people would go. Her first experience with traveling was traumatic and she wanted a new memory. So the brothers gave in. They took a taxi to the nearest airport, cleared customs, had some fun in the tax free shopping zone of the airport and when their flight was announced, they went to the gate.

Once they were in the air, Dean tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, but it was clear that he was uncomfortable. He gripped the armrests tightly and looked around nervously. Sam gave him an amused look. “You still don’t like flying, do you?” Dean mumbled something unintelligible and turned his gaze to the ceiling.

Dana looked at him curiously. “Are you scared, Dad?” Dean sighed and nodded. “I’m more of a ground guy. Give me four wheels on asphalt and I’m happy.”

To calm himself down, he started humming softly. It didn’t take long for Sam to recognize what it was. “Are you humming Metallica?” Sam asked with a wide grin.

Dean looked at him intently. “Yes. Helps me relax.” Dana giggled. “Can you sing?”

Dean shook his head. “Trust me, kiddo, you don’t want to hear that.” But Dana seemed determined. She began humming the melody softly and nudged Sam. “Sing along!”

Sam laughed and joined in the humming. Before they knew it, the three of them were singing softly—Dean trying to calm his nerves, Sam clearly having fun, and Dana enjoying the whole experience. A flight attendant walked by and shot them an amused look. “Everything okay here?” Dean nodded quickly. “Perfect. Just… strengthening family ties.” As she walked away, Sam shook his head. “Great, now she thinks we’re idiots.”

Dean grinned crookedly. “Yeah well, let her.” Dana looked out the window at the clouds below them and smiled widely. “This is the best flight ever.”

Dean leaned back in his seat, finally relaxing a little. “That’s the most important thing, kiddo. That you’re having fun.”

***

Night fell upon Hogwarts, and Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, reading the message Minerva had left him.

Dana Potter has accepted.

Albus leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the instruments that ticked and turned softly, performing their own magical dance. He considered the situation. A sudden flash of shadow and smoke filled the room. Albus looked up, his eyes clear and sharp, without a trace of surprise. There, in the middle of the room, stood a man in an elegant black suit, a broad grin on his face.

“Ah, Professor Dumbledore,” Crowley said with his usual charm. “What an honor to finally meet you in person.” Albus folded his hands quietly on his desk. “I assume I’m speaking to the demon known as Crowley?” Crowley bowed slightly. “Kings are no longer recognized these days, but yes, I am.”

Albus remained calm, his eyes as sharp as ever. “And what brings you to my office, Mister Crowley?” Crowley grinned broadly. “Let’s just say I was a little curious. Stories are going around about a girl. A girl who once faced Death… and survived.” Albus’s gaze tightened slightly. “Dana Potter.”

Crowley nodded slowly. “Exactly. And I hear she’s on her way to England. With two very… remarkable escorts.” Albus kept his gaze on Crowley. “The Winchesters.”

“The Winchesters,” Crowley repeated with a hint of admiration in his voice. “Two of the most notorious hunters in the world. And yet, they seem more concerned with protecting a little girl than hunting monsters.” Albus smiled weakly. “Perhaps they are more human than you think.”

Crowley laughed softly. “Perhaps. But I wonder, Professor… why are you so interested in this girl? What makes her so special?” Albus stood slowly and walked to the window. He looked out over the dark fields of Hogwarts, his hands clasped behind his back. “She is special because of what she has survived,” he said finally. “But she is even more special because of who she is. Her future is important not just to the magical world, but to everyone.”

Crowley tilted his head. “That sounds like a prophecy.” Albus looked over his shoulder at Crowley, his eyes sharp. Did the demon know?

Crowley stepped closer, his footsteps barely audible on the stone floor. “You know what I find interesting, Professor? You are a man of control. But still… the girl is now in the hands of two men you cannot control.” Albus turned fully, his gaze unwavering. “Control is not always necessary.”

Crowley nodded slowly, he had anticipated that answer. “Well, I am glad we had this conversation. I suspect we will see each other again.”

“I suspect so too,” Albus said calmly. With a final broad smile, Crowley disappeared in a cloud of smoke and shadow, as suddenly as he had come. Albus stood there for a moment longer, his thoughts lost in the conversation that had just taken place. What to do now? He had not told the brothers about the prophecy. No one knew, but him, Severus, and the Unspeakables. But he was the only one who knew the full content. It haunted him. So what to do?

Chapter Text

The busy metropolis that was London was hectic. Dean already knew that the cottage was preferable to this…anthill. But he kept his thoughts to himself because Dana was looking at everything. They had grabbed a cab and given him the townhouse's address, in an expensive part of Londen. It was a suburb, but they had to go through the city to get there. And damn it, people drove on the wrong side of the road. He huffed and saw Sam smirking at him.

“We’re no longer in Kansas, Dorothy,” Sam quipped. The driver, a gruff middle-aged man with a heavy beard, watched them through the rearview mirror. “We’re almost there, gentlemen.

The cab pulled up to a quiet street lined with elegant brick townhouses, their façades neat and uniform. Dana pressed her face against the window, her eyes wide with curiosity. The street was a far cry from the bustling chaos they’d just driven through. It was calm, serene, almost too perfect.

“We’re here,” the cab driver announced as he stopped in front of number 14. “Nice area. Bit pricey, though.” Dean handed the man some cash, grumbling under his breath. “Pricey doesn’t matter when the house is already yours.”

As they stepped out, Dana took a deep breath and looked around. “It’s so… fancy.” Sam chuckled. “It does look a bit posh.” Dean shot him a look. “Posh? Really?”

The townhouse stood tall and proud, its cream-colored exterior spotless, with flower boxes in the windows bursting with lavender and petunias. The front door was painted a rich navy blue, with a gleaming brass knocker shaped like a phoenix. The goblins had made sure any ill-intent enchantments had been removed and the house had been redecorated.

Dana reached for Dean’s hand. “Can we go in?” Dean squeezed her hand gently. “Of course, honey. Let’s check it out.”

Sam unlocked the door with a brass key provided by Gringotts, and they stepped into a wide entryway with high ceilings and polished wood floors. The air smelled faintly of lavender and old parchment, a scent that felt oddly comforting. Dana wandered in first, her footsteps echoing softly.

With a soft pop, three House-elves appeared before them. Dean and Sam both reached for their gun and both realized they were unarmed. Damn it! Dean grabbed Dana’s shoulder and pulled her behind him before he growled, “What the hell are you?” One of the Elves started crying and the other two crouched down in fear. Dana peeked around her father and felt sorry for the creatures. “Dad, you’re scaring them.” She whispered.

‘We is the House-elves of the Potter family. We serves the Potters. We means no harm, only help.” One of the elves squeaked out. “Dean, relax, Dana is right, we are scaring them.” Sam let go of his aggressive attitude and looked apologetic at the three elves. Dana smiled at them. “My name is Dana Potter-Winchester. It’s nice to meet you. What do you mean with serve the Potters?”

The House-elf that spoke earlier came a bit closer and blinked in surprise, as if he could barely comprehend her words. “We think that you know this little mistress, but you do not. Tinker will tell you. We is serving the Potter family for a long time. For more than 400 years. Serving is not a burden, little mistress. It is an honor. It is who we are. It makes us happy.”

Dana shifted uncomfortably where she stood. Sam looked confused too. Was this not a form of slavery? “But what does that mean? Serve? Isn’t that… something you must do?” he asked.

The house-elf shook his head vigorously. “No, master. A house-elf serves because we wants to, not because we has to. We provide for our family. We protect them. We keep secrets and make lives better. That is our joy. We have magic because you have magic.”

Dana looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and confusion. “But what if someone treats you badly? What if someone is mean to you?” Dean could not be more proud of her then in that moment.

The house-elf’s ears twitched slightly. “There are bad masters,” he admitted. “But a good master… a good master sees a House-elf as family. A good master makes sure we can serve with pride.”

He looked straight at her, his voice softer. “And you, little mistress, are a good mistress. We sees the way you smile at your daddy and your uncle. We sees the way you treat everyone with kindness. That makes us happy.”

Tinker stepped back. “This is Gildy, and that is Fenny.” They awaited their instructions, but since Dean and Sam, and also Dana never had servants before, they looked a little lost. “Uhm, so, are there any more of you?” Dean asked, not unkindly. “The other properties also have Elves, master. Would you like to meet them?” Tinker asked.

Dean looked at Sam, who shrugged. “Might as well.” Tinker snapped his fingers and another three elves appeared before them. “Little mistress!” one of them cried out and launched herself at Dana, sobbing uncontrollably. Dana hugged her back, at a loss for what to do. She looked helpless at Sam and Dean, who both looked shocked. “There, there,” Dana patted the elf on her back. “You is back and you is so kind and Tilly knew you would be kind, for your mother was kind and Tilly hoped she would see you again!”

After calming the House-elf down, it became clear that they had more Elves than work at the moment, but the Elves insured them that it was okay. “Can you go anywhere you want when you appear and disappear?” Sam asked. Tinker, being the oldest and by such, the leader, stepped forward. “We cannot go to secret places. Only if we been there once, then we can go. Master wants to go somewhere?”

Dean grinned at Sam…maybe the portal isn’t what we need. Maybe all we need are these little ones and we are good to go.” A decision was made. Tinker would remain Head Elf. He would oversee the needs of Dean, Sam and Dana, while the others would remain at the other houses that the Potter family owned.

“Can we get a tour of the house please,” asked Dana. Tinker bowed and sent the other elves away, before smiling brightly at his new mistress and masters. “Please follow me.”

The hallway led into a spacious living room with large windows that let in plenty of natural light. A grand fireplace dominated one wall, with an intricately carved mantle featuring magical symbols that glowed faintly when the light hit them just right. There was a large kitchen, with a fully stocked pantry. There was a living room with a huge fireplace. The house had 5 bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. There was an attic and a basement.

As Tinker led them further, they found a door at the back of the townhouse that led to a small, enclosed garden. The space was wild but beautiful, with ivy creeping up the walls and a stone bench nestled under a flowering tree.

Dana’s eyes lit up. “Can we sit out here sometimes?” Dean nodded. “Whenever you want, kiddo. Shall we pick out a room for you?” In the end, Dana chose one of the smaller rooms, but that one did have a bathroom and an-suite. The room was big enough for her, with a twin sized bed, a desk, a big closet, and shelves for books. Dean chose the room across form her and Sam the one next to his.

As the day came to an end, Dean was happily surprised that the Elves had cooked dinner. They tucked in and being tired from the jetlag and the day itself, they went to bed early.

***

The next morning breakfast was laid out and the little family of three tucked in. “So kiddo, what shall we do today?” Dean asked. “Wanna go explore Londen or the cottage in Southampton?” Dana mused. “What do you want Dad?” Dean smiled. “Sneaky, letting me make the call right…well, in that case me thinks me want to go to Southampton. Look at the cottage and then…maybe we can go to the beach?” At that, Dana’s eyes lit up and Dean knew he made the right call.

“We should probably tell Dumbledore we need another Fidelius Charm for both houses,” Sam spoke. “Let’s do that tomorrow. Shall I call a cab?” Dana looked confused. “Why don’t we ask Tinker?” Sam and Dean looked questioningly at her. “He said that he could go where he wanted right? Maybe he could take us? Or…maybe that is stupid…” she mumbled.

“Actually, no it’s not. Brilliant actually,” Sam stood up, ruffled her hair, and called for Tinker. Tinker appeared with a soft pop. “Master called?”

“Can you take the three of us to the cottage in Southampton, Tinker?” Sam looked a bit uncomfortable at the master title, but Tinker smiled brightly and told them to call him when they were ready. Within the hour they were and Dean looked more uncomfortable by the minute. Sam noticed this and chuckled. “Come on, Dean. How bad can it be?”

Tinker nodded enthusiastically at Dean. “Very different from wizard magic, Master Dean. Tinker will make sure you travel safely.” Dana looked at Dean, her face hopeful. “Dad, if Tinker says it’s safe, it can’t be that bad.” Dean grunted something unintelligible but finally nodded. “Okay, but if I get pulled apart somewhere halfway, you’ll have some explaining to do, Tinker.”

The house-elf laughed softly. “Tinker has never lost a master on the journey.” Tinker grabbed Dana’s hand. “Hold on to little m mistress, please.”

Before Dean could make a sarcastic remark, he felt a soft, warm wave rush through his body. It was as if the air around them was thickening, but in a way that didn’t feel oppressive. Instead of the hard pull he feared would happen, this was as if he were being lifted up by invisible hands.

Dean didn’t feel dizzy, the pressure in his chest like he’d expected. Instead, it was as if he were in a warm cocoon, carried by the wind. There was no sound, no bang—just a soft silence, as if the world had stood still for a moment. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, they were standing with their feet firmly on the ground. The soft rustle of leaves and the babbling of a stream filled the air.

***

Before them stood the cottage, hidden behind tall hedges and surrounded by ancient trees. The house looked almost like something out of a fairy tale: a stone facade covered in ivy, a sloping roof with mossy shingles, and windows with small panes that glistened in the soft sunlight. There was no sound of traffic and all around them, birds were singing.

Dana opened her eyes first and looked around with wide eyes. “We’re here! Daddy, look!” Dean slowly opened his eyes and looked around. In front of them was the cottage, hidden behind trees and surrounded by a lush garden of wildflowers.

He let go of Tinker’s hand and looked at the house itself. “That was… not terrible.” Sam laughed as he straightened his coat. “Did you see? No moans, no wrinkled faces. You’re alive.” Dean grunted. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up.”

Dana spun around in the grass. “I always want to travel like this!” Tinker nodded with a proud smile. “Tinker’s glad the trip went well, young mistress.” Dean looked at the cottage and felt an unexpected calm come over him. This felt… good. Peaceful. Safe.

He put a hand on Dana’s shoulder. “Okay, kiddo. Let’s go look inside.” Tinker walked ahead of them to the front door and opened it with a simple wave of her hand. “Welcome home, Master Dean, Master Sam, and little Mistress Dana.”

***

Dana stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s so beautiful!” she whispered, as if she didn’t want to disturb the silence of the cottage. Dean followed her inside, his boots creaking softly on the old wooden floor. He glanced around, his hand resting on his belt—as if he expected danger at any moment.

“It looks… old,” he muttered, looking up at the dark wooden beams above him. Sam chuckled and nudged his shoulder “Old means history, Dean. Not everything is a potential haunted house.”

“Yeah, right,” Dean replied, frowning at a painting on the wall. The portrait of an old wizard with a long beard glared back at him, rolling his eyes as Dean approached. “Sam, that painting moved!” Tinker interfered and explained that wizarding homes often had paintings that had captured the essence of the living.

“Right, because that is not creepy at all,” Dean grumbled.

Dana giggled, softening Dean’s demeanor a little. “Dad, look!” She pointed to a large stone fireplace in the living room. Runes were carved into the mantelpiece, and as she approached, the symbols seemed to glow for a moment.

“What’s that?” she asked curiously. Sam walked over to the fireplace and studied the runes with a smile. “Protective spells. This house has been protected from all kinds of magic for centuries.” Tinker again explained that the fireplace, just like the one in the London house, could be connected to the Floo network. When the three humans looked confused, he took it upon himself to explain the Floo system. Dean looked skeptical, Sam intrigued and Dana looked like she wanted to test in out right away.

They walked further through the house, Dana’s curiosity greater than her fear. She opened doors to high-ceilinged bedrooms, found a small library filled with old books, and finally stopped in the kitchen.

The smell of herbs hung in the air, and bundles of lavender, thyme, and rosemary hung from the ceiling to dry. A large wooden table sat in the center of the kitchen, with a bowl of fresh fruit on it.

“Where did that come from?” Dana asked, walking over to the bowl and picking up an apple.

“The House-elves I think,” Sam replied, exploring the kitchen further.  Dean pulled open one of the cupboard doors and chuckled. “And apparently they have filled the pantry too.” The cupboards were filled with jars of jam, loaves of bread that still seemed warm, and bottles of pumpkin juice.

Dana’s attention was drawn to a large mirror on the wall. She walked over to it and looked at her reflection. Suddenly, the mirror spoke in a warm, friendly voice.

“A beautiful day to play outside, young mistress.”

Dana let out a soft gasp of surprise and looked at Dean “The mirror is talking!” Dean’s eyes narrowed as he approached the mirror. When he looked in the mirror, it said, “Don’t frown at me young men, that will give you wrinkles.” Both Dana and Sam doubled over with laughter at the look on Dean's face.

After the kitchen, Dana led the brothers outside to the large garden behind the cottage. She stopped at a huge oak tree that stood in the middle of the garden, its thick branches spread out like protective arms. “Wanna climb the tree with me Uncle Sam?” “Hah, maybe later princess, but you are definitely on!”

There was also a little pond with some fish and frogs and there was a old swing. He looked in good condition and Dana made a promise to herself that she would check it out later.

Back inside, Dana walked over to the small library she had discovered earlier. The smell of old parchment hung in the air, and the books seemed to whisper as she walked along the shelves.

Sam smiled. “You’ll probably find me here a lot.” Dana grinned. “What about Daddy?”

Dean made a face. “Not here. I’d rather be working on my car. I miss my car.” He looked at Sam.

Sam laughed. “Poor Dean.”

Dana plopped down in a large leather chair by the window. She pulled a book from the shelf and opened it. “I love this house.”

Chapter Text

Now that both houses had been inspected, they decided to take vacations at the cottage but would live in Londen. After spending the day at the beach and eating in one of the restaurants in Southampton, Tinker brought them back to Londen, where Dana went to bed and the brother shared a drink.

“Let’s contact Rowena to set up the portal in the morning, I am beat and can’t deal with her sarcasm right now,” Dean muttered. Sam smiled in his glass. “Sure, keep pretending dude.”

Dean gave him a look and raised his eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“Oh come on man, just admit it. She has grown on you, you like her.” ‘I do not!” came the sullen reply. “Yeah, keep tellin yourself that. Goodnight.” Sam put down his glass and walked to his bedroom, leaving a sullen Dean behind. “I do not like her.” He muttered again, but his heart was not into it.

The next morning:

The doorbell chimed. Dana looked up and wanted to go to the door, but Tinker was faster. “Miss, this is my job, Tinker is very good at this, please be seated.” Dana felt her cheeks burn and quickly sat down. She was not used to servants, and her background at being a servant/slave to the Dursleys made her feel weird. Dean patted her on her arm, giving her a knowing look. “It’s all right sweetheart. It takes some getting used to.”

Tinker appeared in the kitchen. “There is a Miss Macleod here to see you, little mistress.” Rowena walked in, a big smile on her face as she looked around. “Very nice!” Dean choked on his coffee when Rowena winked at him and he coughed. “Good morning grumpy,” she said playfully. “Shall we begin?”

They had decided that the portal would be made in the library. The bunker, the cottage and the Londen house all had one, so that was the common demeanor. Dana sat on the library floor, as she watched Rowena curiously. The witch paced intently, her red hair pulled back in a loose bun, as she drew runes in chalk on the floor around the large, old bookcase.

Dean leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed. He watched her movements with a skeptical look. “Okay, explain this to me again,” he began. “You’re going to turn a bookcase into a magical door to the other side of the world?”

Rowena stopped drawing and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, Dean. You really need to have more faith in my skills.”

Dean pulled a face. “It’s not your skills that I’m worried about. It’s the whole ‘magical portal’ thing. Sounds like something that could go wrong.” Rowena sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes. “Ah, my dear boy, if I got paid for every time you distrusted me, I’d be richer than that Potter legacy.”

Dana giggled from her spot on the floor, making Dean smile slightly. Sam walked in with a cup of coffee in his hand and looked at the runes on the floor. “So how exactly does this work?” he asked, always curious about the details.

Rowena leaned forward and drew a line between two symbols.

“Simply put, I create a permanent magical connection between this bookcase and the bookcase in your bunker. When you, Dean, or Dana, give the right command, the gate will open.”

Sam nodded with interest. “And what do you use as an energy source?” Rowena pointed to the center of the circle, where a large, glittering crystal lay. “Dragon’s blood strengthens the connection, and this crystal stabilizes the gate. Without it, we could… let’s say, disappear halfway through our journey.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Wait, what?” Rowena shot him a mocking look. “That was a joke, Dean. Relax.”

Rowena continued her preparations. She spoke ancient spells softly in a language that even Sam didn’t fully understand. The runes on the floor began to glow in different colors, and a slight vibration went through the room. Dana watched the scene with wide eyes.

“Are we going to walk through the bookcase now?”

Rowena nodded. “Almost, honey. But only if you give Daddy the command.” Dana turned to Dean, her eyes expectant. “Daddy, do you want to try?” Dean sighed and stepped forward, his boots clacking heavily on the wooden floor. “Okay, what should I say?” Rowena smiled.

“Simply say, ‘Open to the Winchesters.’” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Dean stood in front of the bookcase, looked at Dana and Sam, and spoke the words. “Open to the Winchesters.” The bookcase began to turn slowly like some hidden mechanism were working. A soft, golden glow appeared between the shelves, and a dark passageway opened, revealing the familiar walls of the bunker beyond. Dana jumped up and clapped her hands.

“It works!” Dean stared wide-eyed at the portal. “Well, I’m impressed. This is…”

“Convenient?” Sam added. Dean nodded slowly. “Yes, convenient. But if this thing ever starts sputtering, I’ll blame her.” He pointed at Rowena. Rowena chuckled “Oh, Dean. You should show me more appreciation.” She stepped closer and playfully tapped him on the cheek “Congratulations. You now have your own magical front door.” Sam saw how Dean looked uncomfortable and grinned.

Dana looked at the bookcase and then at Rowena “Can we travel to other places? Like… the moon?” Rowena laughed loudly “I’m good, honey, but not that good. We’re staying on Earth for now.” Dean shook his head and mumbled to Sam. “What kind of crazy ideas does she get?”

The ritual was repeated for the cottage and now there was a three-way path. The bunker was connected to the cottage and the house in Londen. All that was left, was the Fidelius charm on both properties.

“We need to get Dumbledore involved,” Sam said quietly. “The Fidelius Charm is powerful magic. We can’t do it ourselves.” Dean leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. “So we ask him to protect our homes again. But how do we reach him? We don’t have an owl.”

At that moment, Tinker appeared in the room with a soft thud. His large ears twitched as he looked at them. “Masters, little mistress, can Tinker help?”

Dana looked up from her book and smiled at the house-elf. “Hello, Tinker!” Sam leaned forward slightly. “Actually, yes. We have a message that needs to be sent to Professor Dumbledore. Can you do that?” Tinker nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, Master Sam. House elves can Apparate anywhere, even to Hogwarts. Tinker will deliver the message safely and quickly.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. You can just… Apparate to Hogwarts?” Tinker nodded again. “Yes, Master Dean. No owls needed. Tinker knows where Professor Dumbledore is.” Dana jumped off the couch and ran to the table. “So you can tell him we need help with the Fidelius Charm?”

“Exactly, young mistress.” Tinker smiled broadly. “Will Tinker go now?” Dean grunted and stood up. “Wait a minute.” He picked up a sheet of paper and a pen. “We’ll write him a letter. No half-hearted fortune-telling messages. We’ll tell him exactly what we want.”

Dean wrote in bold, straight letters on the parchment:

Professor Dumbledore,

We need your help.

We want our home protected by the same spell you used earlier. It is for Dana. It must be safe.

Call for Tinker if you are ready, he will get you here

Dean Winchester

Dean rolled up the letter and handed it to Tinker. “See to it that he gets it personally.” Tinker took the letter with a deep bow. “Of course, Master Dean. Tinker will speak to Professor Dumbledore personally.” Dana looked at Tinker with wide eyes. “Will you return when you have delivered it?”

“Yes, young mistress.” Tinker smiled at her. “Tinker will return with news.”

At the same time, Albus Dumbledore was sitting in his office at Hogwarts, working on a complicated spell, when a soft thud caught his attention. Tinker was standing there, a letter in his hand. Albus smiled slightly and put down his wand. “Ah, a visit from a house-elf. It doesn’t happen often.” Tinker stepped forward and handed over the letter. “Master Dean Winchester asked me to deliver this personally.”

Dumbledore took the letter and read it carefully. A smile played on his lips as he finished reading. “The Winchesters… I expected them to get in touch again soon.” Tinker nodded politely. “Master Dean said it was urgent.”

Albus folded the letter carefully and stood up. “Thank him for his trust. I will accompany you right away.”

Dean sat at the living room table, a mug of coffee clutched tightly between his hands. Sam was leafing through a book of protection spells, his usual concentration on his face. Dana sat on the couch, her legs folded beneath her, looking toward the front door as if she were expecting someone at any moment.

The silence was broken by a soft thud. Tinker appeared in the middle of the room, and beside him stood Albus Dumbledore. Dana jumped up from the couch, her eyes wide with surprise. “Professor!” Dean stood up slowly, his gaze fixed on the old wizard. He left the mug of coffee on the table with a soft clink. Dumbledore smiled kindly and bowed his head slightly. “Mr. Winchester, Mr. Winchester, young Mistress Dana.” His blue eyes glinted behind his half-moon glasses. “I understand that my assistance is needed.”

Dean stepped forward, his gaze not softening. “That is correct.” He held out his hand to Dumbledore. “Thank you for coming so quickly.” Dumbledore took the hand firmly and nodded. “Given the nature of your request, I thought it appropriate to waste no time.”

Dana looked from Dean to Albus and then to Tinker. “You’ll be back soon!” Tinker smiled proudly. “House elves travel faster than owls, young mistress.”

Sam put down his book and stepped forward. “Professor, thank you for doing this for us. We want both the house here in London and the cottage in Southampton to be protected by the Fidelius Charm.”

Dumbledore stroked his beard as he surveyed the room. “A wise choice. But I must say, Mr. Winchester,” he turned to Dean, “that this is no easy spell. It will require great responsibility on your part.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “I know how it works. You cast the charm, and I become the Secret Keeper.”

The ritual was done and both houses were protected. “I take it you and Dana will buy her school supplies soon?” Albus asked, his eyes twinkling. “I was wondering if you would like a guide. I am sorry to point this out, but you, uhm, stand out in the crowd.” Sam looked at the old wizard. “No offense professor, but you are wearing a purple cloak with golden stars.”

Dumbledore laughed. “Yes well, you see, the British Wizarding World is not like the American one. I know that the wizards and witches there a bit more modern. We, however, wear cloaks. We also use parchment and write with quills.” “I see,” came the baffled reply. Sam shrugged and looked at his brother. “Perhaps a guide would be nice?”

Dean wasn’t happy about it, but he wrote the address down on a piece of paper, so Albus could give this to the person that would accompany them. After that, farewells were spoken and Tinker brought Albus back to Hogwarts.

While Dean informed their friends of both houses, Sam and Dana played a card game, until it was time for dinner. After that, they sat in the big living room. Dean was slumped in a large chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Sam sat across from him, a stack of books on the history of Hogwarts and the wizarding community. Dana sat on the couch, her legs folded under her, studying her new school list.

“So,” Dean began, swirling his glass, “they wear cloaks?” Dana nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! And a pointy hat! That’s on the list.” She pointed to the parchment in front of her.

Dean made a face. “A hat?” Sam smiled. “Come on, Dean. It’s tradition. Kind of like how hunters have their rituals.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but we don’t wear weird costumes.” He paused. “Okay, except for that one time in the cowboy world.”

Dana giggled. “I think it’s cool. It’s different.” Dean leaned forward. “Kiddo, if you want to wear a cloak, go ahead. Just don’t expect me to stand next to you in a dress like an idiot.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “They call it a robe.” Dean grinned. “It’s a dress, Sam. Let’s call a spade a spade.”

Dana looked up from her list. “And what about the feathers?” Sam nodded. “They write with goose down feathers and inkwells.” Dean grimaced sarcastically. “Really? No one there ever invented a ballpoint pen?”

Dana giggled. “They just like tradition, I guess.” Dean shook his head. “That’s more than tradition. That’s stuck in the past.” Sam leafed through one of the books. “It seems like a lot of things in the wizarding world are deliberately old-fashioned. They trust magic more than technology.” Dean took a sip of his whiskey and put the glass down. “Yeah, well… if I have to write my shopping list with a bird feather, I'll give up.”

Chapter Text

The Next Morning:

The morning sun shone through the large windows of the Londen house, the quiet of the house broken only by the soft tapping of Dana’s feet as she walked towards her dad and uncle. Dean and Sam sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, the silence between them comfortable but focused. They were still getting used to the house, the house elves, and most of all the reality that their lives had changed completely.

At that moment, there was a loud, heavy knock on the front door. Dana jumped up from her chair, her eyes wide with excitement. She heard Tinker open the door, and then she heard a heavy voice. Ever since Vernon, heavy voices have scared her a bit, and she looked at Dean in alarm. Both Dean and Sam rose from their seats as the biggest man they had ever seen walked into the kitchen.

The giant man filled the doorway. His wild beard and long hair made him even more imposing, but his kind eyes sparkled with joy when he saw Dana, who did her best to disappear behind her dad.

“You must be Dana Potter!” Hagrid said with a broad smile. “How nice to finally meet you!”

Dana peeked from behind Dean's broad back and looked at Hagrid with wide eyes. “Hello sir, Wow… you’re big.” Hagrid laughed loudly, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the house. “That’s what they all say, my dear child.”

Dean stepped forward. “And you are?” Hagrid looked at Dean and Sam, his eyes curious. “Ah, you must be the Winchesters.” He held out a huge hand to Dean. “Rubeus Hagrid. Guardian of the Hogwarts grounds and Keeper of Keys.”

Dean looked at the hand as if it were a dangerous animal, but Sam stepped forward and shook his hand without hesitation.

“Sam Winchester,” he said with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Hagrid.” Dean continued to eye Hagrid suspiciously. “So… you’re our guide?” Hagrid nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Professor Dumbledore asked me to take you to Diagon Alley. It’s time to get all the school supplies for Dana.”

Dana felt more confident and grabbed Dean's hand. “Really? We’re going now?” Hagrid smiled at her. “Yes, young lady. Ready for an adventure?”

After Tinker and Gildy had dropped everyone off before the Leaky Cauldron, they followed Hagrid inside. It was true what Albus had said, with their jeans and flannel jackets, they stood out. But both men couldn’t care less and walked through the dingy pub. Upon arrival at the small area outside the pub, Hagrid walked resolutely toward an old, crumbling wall.

“This is the entrance,” he explained. “But only if you know how to open it.” Dana, Dean and Sam watched in fascination as Hagrid touched a few stones with his umbrella. The wall shifted, forming an archway leading to Diagon Alley.

Dana looked around with wide eyes as they entered Diagon Alley. The colourful shops, the floating signs, and the hum of the magical community around her made her silent with wonder. It was the same as in Kansas, but different altogether.

“Wow…” she whispered. Hagrid smiled broadly. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Everything you need for your first year at Hogwarts is here.” Dean and Sam followed with suspicious glances. They could feel the eyes of passersby burning into them.

Dean leaned toward Sam. “Do you see what I see?” Sam nodded. “They look like we brought a three-headed dog with us.”

A wizard with a long beard paused for a moment, staring intently at them. His eyes slid from Dean to Sam, then settled on Dana. “Potter,” he whispered almost reverently, before hurriedly walking on.

Dana tugged at Hagrid’s coat. “Why are they looking at us like that?” Hagrid patted her gently on the head. “They recognize you from the way you look, you look just like your father and you have your mother’s eyes. And you scar of course.” Dean looked at Sam. “I knew we had to do something about that scar. I hope they stick to staring. I’m not really in the mood for trouble.”

Sam laughed softly. “Dean, relax. This isn’t a hunt.” Dean rolled his eyes. “Not yet.”

As they walked past several shops, Dana held Dean’s hand tightly. A witch in a pointy hat watched them go and whispered something to her companion, who looked at Dana in shock.

Dean saw it and grabbed Sam’s arm. “That’s going to irritate me.”

“What?”

“The whispering. I feel like a fairground ride.” Hagrid turned and looked at Dean with a smile. “Don’t worry, Dean. They’re just curious. You guys look a bit… er…” He fumbled for words.

“Muggle-like?” Sam added. Hagrid chuckled. “Exactly.”

Before they could enter Madam Malkins, an older witch approached Dana. She leaned forward slightly and looked at her kindly. “Are you Dana Potter?” she asked softly.

Dana looked at Dean for confirmation. Then she nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” The witch smiled warmly. “It is so good to see you, my child. Your parents would be so proud of you.”

Dean felt his jaw muscles tighten. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Dana’s shoulder. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said with a polite nod, but his gaze made it clear he wanted her to continue. The witch took the hint and left.

Dana stood on a small platform as Madam Malkin circled her with her tape measure. The fabric of the robe felt soft and light, and Dana smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror. She had never worn such beautiful clothing before, let alone something made especially for her.

“You look like a real witch, kiddo,” Sam said encouragingly from the corner of the store. Dean stood with his arms crossed, clearly uncomfortable. “Are you sure they don’t have something a little tougher? Something with… leather or something?”

Madam Malkin snorted disdainfully. “School uniforms are practical, sir. Not fashionable.”

Dana giggled softly, which softened Dean’s stance. “How does it feel, kiddo?” Dana turned slightly in front of the mirror, her eyes sparkling with joy. “It feels good. It’s… real.”

Madam Malkin leaned toward her and smiled. “You’re ready for Hogwarts, my dear child.”

The smell of old books filled the air as they entered the bookstore. The shelves towered above them, filled with leather-bound volumes, magical titles, and scrolls of parchment. Dana looked at the stacks of books with wide eyes. “Dad, can I read them all?” Dean grinned. “If you can do that, you’re smarter than me.”

Sam was immediately in his element and began reading titles. “History of Magic… Defense Against the Dark Arts… This is fantastic.” Dean looked at a thick book titled ‘Magical Disasters and How to Avoid Them’ and made a face. “That looks like trouble.”

Dana looked around and tugged at Dean’s coat. “Dad, can I pick an extra book?” Dean smiled and nodded. “Sure, pick some sweetheart.”

They walked further along the cobblestone street until they came to a store with a single wand on a purple cushion. Ollivanders, the sign read. Wandmaker. The bell above the door chimed softly as they stepped into the dark shop. The air smelled of old wood and something akin to magic itself. The walls were covered in endless rows of narrow, dusty boxes, and the space felt charged with ancient, dormant power.

A thin, older man with silver hair slowly emerged from the shadows. His eyes glittered with curiosity as he surveyed the new visitors. “Ah, Miss Potter, I wondered when I would be seeing you,” Ollivander said softly. “It was not so long ago that your father and mother were in here, buying their first wands.’ His voice was a whisper, but it reached every corner of the shop.

Dana looked around curiously as Ollivander opened several boxes and brought them to her. He opened one and pulled out a long, slender wand. “Let’s start with this one. Rowan wood, unicorn hair core. Try it.” Dana took the wand cautiously, but before she could do anything with it, a stack of boxes behind her began to wobble dangerously and collapsed with a loud crash.

Ollivander shook his head thoughtfully. “No, no. That’s clearly not the right one.” He pulled another wand from a box and handed it to Dana. “Ashwood, dragon’s heartstring.” Dana waved it, but a pot in the corner of the room exploded with a bang and a cloud of green smoke.

Dean coughed and waved the smoke away. “Does this happen all the time?” Ollivander smiled slightly. “Finding the right wand is a delicate matter, sir. The wand chooses the wizard, not the other way around.”

Dana tried a few more wands, but none of them seemed to work. She felt increasingly discouraged. “Don’t give up,” Sam said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “The right wand is out there, you just have to find it.”

Ollivander nodded in agreement and walked to a high shelf at the back of the shop. He pulled out a dusty box and blew gently on it. “This one is special… very special.” Dana took the wand. It was made of mahogany, with a phoenix feather core. As soon as she held it in her hand, she felt a warm, tingling glow flow through her fingers. A soft golden glow filled the room.

Ollivander smiled with satisfaction. “Ah, there it is. The wand has chosen.”

Dana looked at the wand in her hand in surprise. “It feels… right.” Ollivander nodded slowly. “That’s because it’s a perfect fit for you. But there’s something you need to know.”

The room fell silent as Ollivander turned his gaze to Dana. “The core of that wand comes from the same phoenix as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

Dean’s face froze. “Wait, what?” Ollivander sighed deeply. The phoenix that gave the tailfeather gave me two. One of the feathers is in his wand, the other feather is in this one. They are brotherwands. But since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead, it matters not, maybe. But it is clear that we can expect great things from you Miss Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, but great.”

***

After the somewhat shocking events in Ollivander’s shop had subsided, Dana’s stomach growled softly. Sam heard it and suggested to go to lunch.

When lunch was over, the group was sitting at a table outside the magical café. Dana was wiggling her legs impatiently as she watched the people passing by in Diagon Alley. Dean leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, while Sam looked through a list of purchases.

Hagrid stood up and wiped his hands on his coat. "Will you two stay here for a while? I have something to do." Dana looked up curiously. "What's that?"

Hagrid smiled mysteriously. "You'll see later, my dear." Dean watched Hagrid suspiciously as he walked away. "What's he thinking of doing now?"

Sam grinned. “No idea dude.” After about 15 minutes, Hagrid reappeared, his enormous frame towering over the crowd. Dana jumped up when she saw him. But when she looked closely, she stopped dead in her tracks.

On Hagrid's large arm sat a snow-white owl. Her feathers shone in the sunlight, and her amber eyes were bright and intelligent. She turned her head toward Dana as if studying her.

Dana’s eyes widened in wonder. “Is that… for me?” she whispered. Hagrid nodded and stepped closer. “Yes, girl. This is Hedwig. She’ll bring you your mail, keep you company, and…” He glanced at Dean and Sam, “…keep an eye on you if you need it.”

Dana stepped forward carefully and held out her arm. The owl very carefully walked from Hagrid’s arm to Dana’s. She was surprisingly light, and her feathers felt as soft as silk.

“Hedwig…” Dana said softly. She looked up at Hagrid with tears in her eyes. “Thank you. She’s beautiful.” Dean stood up and looked at the owl. “So… this means we have a pet now. Wonderful.” He grumbled but Dana saw his smile.

Sam smiled. “She’s perfect, Dana. What a beautiful owl.” Dana looked from her uncle to her father, her eyes sparkling with delight. “She’s the most beautiful owl ever.”

Hedwig looked deep into Dana’s eyes and let out a soft, reassuring sound. Dana smiled broadly and held her gently. “I promise I’ll take good care of her,” she said firmly. Hagrid nodded. “I know I will, girl. Hedwig’s a clever owl. She can sense who she can trust.”

Dean looked at Hagrid. “And this was the secret job you had to do?” Hagrid winked. “Some things are worth sneaking away for.”

Chapter Text

The group was just walking down the street, away from the cozy restaurant. Dana skipped next to Hagrid, who smiled broadly as he told her about the Great Hall at Hogwarts.

Dean and Sam were a little behind them, watching intently as always. Diagon Alley was busy, but it felt safe enough until an icy silence suddenly settled over the street. Dean stopped mid-step and looked around. “Sam?”

Sam frowned. “Yes… It suddenly became too quiet.”

Before anyone could say anything, there stood three men in black robes in front of them, their faces hidden behind masks. Dana looked up in alarm and grabbed Hagrid’s hand. The other people in the Alley started screaming.

“Death Eaters,” Hagrid hissed, pulling Dana behind him. “Stay close to me, girl.” The men pointed their wands at the group.

The taller of them spoke in a low, menacing voice. “Give us the girl. Now.”

Dean's hand instinctively went to his gun. He quickly drew it and pointed it at the man who spoke. "Listen, you douchebag, you stay away from my daughter."

The Death Eater laughed coldly. "What are you going to do, muggle? Do you think your weapons can stop us?"

The sound of gunfire echoed through Diagon Alley as Dean tilted his head at the insult and  pulled the trigger three times. The first bullet hit the lead Death Eater in the shoulder, spinning him around with a cry of pain. His wand fell from his hand, clattering to the cobblestones.

The other two Death Eaters froze in shock.

“He shot me!” the wounded man hissed through clenched teeth, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “The filthy muggle shot me!

Dean took a step forward, his gun still raised and steady. His voice was cold and dangerous. “And I’ll do it again if you don’t back off. So, what’s it gonna be?”

The remaining Death Eaters exchanged uneasy glances. They weren’t used to this kind of fight. Their opponents were usually frightened wizards, not muggles who shot first and asked questions later.

“You’re protecting her?” one of them finally said, disbelief in his voice. “Why would you risk your life for a - ”

“For my daughter,” Dean interrupted, his voice sharp. “And if you think I’m going to let you or anyone else hurt her, you’re dumber than you look.”

Hagrid stepped protectively in front of Dana, his massive frame blocking her from view. He raised his pink umbrella, which crackled with faint magical energy “You lot better think twice before trying anything,” Hagrid rumbled, his voice low and dangerous. “These men aren’t like the ones you’ve faced before.”

The Death Eaters took a hesitant step back, their confidence clearly shaken. The wounded man scowled, his gaze flickering between Dean and Hagrid “This isn’t over,” he spat. “She belongs to the Dark Lord.

Dean’s jaw clenched. His finger twitched on the trigger. “Yeah? Well, tell your ‘Dark Lord’ to come and get her himself.” The Death Eaters apparated away and the people in the alley started clapping.

Dana stood frozen behind Hagrid, her small hands clutching the fabric of his cloak as she stared wide-eyed at place where the three men in black robes had just vanished. She could still hear the cracks of Dean’s gun echoing in her ears, but it was as if her mind was struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

A man had fell backwards, bleeding from his shoulder. The other two Death Eaters had looked at Dean with a mixture of fear and anger. Dana had seen everything, but her gaze lingered on the bloodstain spreading across the stone.

Her heart pounded in her chest. “Daddy?” Her voice sounded small, almost fragile.

Dean turned at the sound of her voice. His face, which had been tight and dangerous just moments before, softened immediately. He put his gun back in his jacket and slowly walked over to her. He didn’t even hear the people around him. He knelt down so that he could look her in the eye.

Dana looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. “You shot him…”

Dean swallowed and gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “Yes, I did.”

Dana stared at the spot where the Death Eater had just stood, now empty except for the dark stains of blood on the cobblestones. “I knew you guys… that you guys fight monsters. But I never really saw it.”

Sam stepped up next to Dean, his gaze soft but alert. “Dana, listen. What we do, we do to protect people. To protect you.”

Dana looked at him, her lip trembling slightly. “But he was human…”

Dean gently pulled her close and held her tightly. “He wasn’t human anymore, kiddo. Not really. He wanted to hurt you. And I’ll never let that happen.”

Dana remained silent for a moment, her face hidden in Dean’s coat. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible. “Is that what you guys always do?”

Sam sighed softly. “Yeah. But you don’t have to do that. You’re safe with us.”

Dana slowly pulled away from Dean’s embrace and looked at them both. “You protect people. But who protects you?” The question hit hard.

Dean swallowed visibly, and Sam smiled painfully. “We have each other,” he said simply. Dana nodded slowly, as if trying to understand. She wiped away a tear that had rolled down her cheek. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Dean smiled softly and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “We won’t let that happen, kiddo.” They looked at each other, and Dana nodded. But her gaze remained alert, as if she understood for the first time that the world was more dangerous than she had ever imagined.

Hagrid looked anxiously at Dana, who was huddled against Dean. Her small hand clung tightly to his coat. She had just seen her father use his gun without hesitation, and the whole situation seemed to really hit her now.

Dean brushed a lock of hair from her face and knelt down to be eye level with her. “Hey, kiddo. You’re safe. I’ve got you, right?”

Dana nodded slowly, but her eyes remained wide with wonder and fear. “They wanted to take me.”

“They didn’t,” Dean said firmly. “And they never will.”

Hagrid stepped forward. “We need to get her somewhere safe. Hogwarts should - ”  Dean shook his head. “No. Hogwarts can wait. We have a place.” Sam looked at his brother and nodded. “Tinker.”

With a soft thud, Tinker appeared in the middle of the street. His large eyes shone with pride, but also with curiosity. He wore an apron with the Potter family crest and held a cloth with which he wiped his hands.

“Tinker, we have been attacked, we need to get back home.” Tinker nodded enthusiastically. “Tinker will bring you back safely, Mister Hagrid need not worry.”

He held out his hand to Dana. “Little mistress, hold Tinker’s hand.”

Dana glanced at Dean for confirmation. When he nodded, she gently placed her hand in Tinker’s. The house-elf turned to Sam and Dean. “Masters, ready? Hold on.”

With a gentle twist, they were all pulled off the ground. A mere moment later, they stood outside the door of the Potter Townhouse in London. The facade glinted in the light of the street lamps, and the door swung open of its own accord as they approached.

Tinker bowed again. “Welcome home, little mistress.” Dean looked around. “Okay, Tinker, thank you. We’re safe here. Hagrid?”

Hagrid nodded slowly. “I’m going back to Dumbledore. He needs to know what happened.” Dana looked at the giant man. “Is he coming to see us?”

Hagrid smiled warmly. “I think so, girl. But you’re safe now. Stay close to each other.”

Dean extended his hand to Hagrid. The big man had not hesitated for a moment in the attack and that made him good people.  “Thank you.”

***

Diagon Alley was still in turmoil. Shopkeepers huddled in groups, whispering, and customers exchanged worried glances. The news spread quickly: a muggle had attacked Death Eaters with a pistol weapon of some sorts.

The air above the street trembled briefly, and with a loud crack a group of aurors in long, dark red cloaks appeared. Among them was a broad man with a magical eye, which spun in its socket as he scanned the area.

“Moody,” said one of the other aurors. “We’ve heard the reports. This needs to be investigated.”

“Damn right,” growled Mad-Eye Moody. His magic eye stopped at the spot where a bloodstain was still visible on the cobblestones. He walked forward and crouched down by the stain, his normal eye narrowed in concentration.

He touched the ground with his fingers and sniffed softly. “Blood, he wounded them.”

The other auror looked surprised. “Sir, do you mean the muggle man injured the Death Eater?”

Moody nodded and slowly straightened up. “Yes. He did. Dangerous muggle it was too, if he’s going to take on Death Eaters without a speck of magic.”

A small group of shopkeepers and customers stood at the side of the street, clearly curious about the investigation. Moody turned to them. “Who saw it?”

An older witch in a fur coat stepped forward. “I, Mr. Moody. I saw everything. They came out of nowhere, those Death Eaters, and they pointed their wands at that girl.” Moody’s eye darted to her. “What girl?”

“A little girl, with dark hair. She was with Hagrid and two men who looked like muggles.”

“And what were those muggles doing?” Moody asked, his tone sharp. The witch seemed to hesitate for a moment. “One – the older one – pulled out a wand of some sort, but it wasn’t a wand. It was a… weapon. He did something and it hurt the Death Eater.”

Moody grinned broadly, his face distorted by his scars. “Well well, that is something you don’t hear every day.”  The witch nodded. “Yes. And he didn’t look scared at all. He stood there, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.”

Moody turned to the other aurors. “We’re dealing with someone who’s used to fighting. A muggle who takes on Death Eaters without hesitation… He’s no ordinary man.”

A young auror raised an eyebrow. “But muggles don’t know anything about our world.”

Moody snorted. “This one does. And he’s not afraid. That makes him dangerous.” He turned back to the group. “Where are they now?”

The witch shrugged. “They just disappeared after calling out for a House-elf, along with Hagrid.”

***

The great doors of Hogwarts swung open with a loud crash, and Mad-Eye Moody strode briskly into the Great Hall. His magical eye rotated constantly in its socket, scanning for movement and possible danger. The staff, who were just finishing their dinner, looked up in surprise at the sudden intruder.

Moody strode straight toward Hagrid, his wooden leg tapping on the stone floor. "I've come for answers, Hagrid. I heard you were there when the Death Eaters appeared in Diagon Alley." Moody leaned forward, his face dangerously close to Hagrid’s. “Tell me everything. What were those muggles doing there? Who are they?”

Hagrid squared his shoulders. “Dean and Sam Winchester. They’re good people, Moody. They’re looking after that girl.”

Moody’s magic eye turned sharply to Hagrid. “A girl? The girl the Death Eaters were trying to get?”

Hagrid nodded slowly. “Dana Potter.”

“The Girl-Who-Lived,” came a quiet voice from the doorway. Albus Dumbledore had just entered the room, his eyes glittering behind his half-moon glasses. “And yes, she’s the one who was attacked this afternoon in Diagon Alley.”

Moody frowned deeply. “And you let her associate with muggles? With armed men?”

Dumbledore smiled slightly. “They’re not just muggles, Alastor. They’re hunters. Protectors. And they’ve risked their lives to keep her safe.” Moody snorted. “Protectors? Or threats?”

“That depends on your perspective,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “I suggest we continue this conversation in my office.”

Chapter Text

The soft thud of Moody’s wooden leg on the stone floor of Dumbledore’s office echoed with a menacing rhythm. His magic eye spun in its socket, while his normal eye remained fixed on Dumbledore.

“All right,” Moody grunted. “Tell me what’s going on, Albus.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his fingertips pressed together. “The girl-who-lived, Alastor. I had placed her with her aunt and uncle, which was…a mistake. They did not care for her as I had hoped and even though no one could find her, it was a grave error on my side.”

Moody froze. His magic eye continued to spin, but his normal eye squinted in concentration. “Go to the part with the muggles.”

Dumbledore nodded. “Her uncle and aunt went to America, where her uncle dumped her on the side of the road. She was 9 at that time. Two extraordinary men found her.”

“The Winchesters.” Moody’s voice was sharp. “I’ve heard rumors. Hunters. Muggles who claim to fight demons and other monsters.” Dumbledore smiled slightly. “They don’t just fight monsters. They defeat them.”

Moody snorted. “And you trust them with the protection of a girl like Potter?”

“I do, Alastor,” Dumbledore replied quietly. “I’ve met them. I’ve seen the lengths they’ll go to, to keep her safe.”

Moody stepped closer to the desk, his gaze sharp. “Do they protect her because they want to… or because they have no choice?”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled briefly. “They protect her because they love her. Dean Winchester has officially adopted her as his daughter through blood adoption.”

Moody’s magical eye turned quickly to Dumbledore. “Blood adoption? That magic is rare and dangerous.”

“And powerful,” Dumbledore confirmed. “It bonds them forever. Dean is her father now. Not just in name, but in every sense of the word.” Moody’s face twisted. “And yet… you’re talking about a Muggle taking on Death Eaters with guns. Even though the normal witch or wizard don’t know what they are, doesn’t mean I am equally ignorant. That doesn’t sound like someone who understands the threat he’s facing.”

“He understands the danger perfectly well,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “But he comes from a different world, Alastor. A world where pistols are just as effective as wands. And sometimes, to be honest, more effective.” Moody raised his eyebrow. “More effective?”

“A Death Eater expects a duel. A spell. They don’t expect someone to shoot three times without warning,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “The Winchesters think differently. They act differently. And that’s why they’ve kept Dana safe so far.”

Moody’s magic eye continued to roll as he stared at Dumbledore. “Is there more?”

Dumbledore nodded. “The Winchesters are in contact with an angel. His name is Castiel. I’ve also met Crowley, the demon. As you know, he is the king of Hell. It seems he is sort of a friend.”

"A demon," Moody repeated mockingly. "And you think they are good men, they consort with demons?" Dumbledore smiled softly. "Yes, but they also consort with angels, Alastor. And sometimes we have to work with what we have."

Moody stepped back and crossed his arms. "I don't trust anyone's word, Albus. If you say those Winchesters are trustworthy, then I'll have to see for myself."

Dumbledore nodded. "I wouldn't have expected anything less." Moody turned toward the door. "And where do I find them?"

"London," Dumbledore said simply. The house is under Fidelius. I could ask Dean Winchester to give you the address.  Moody looked at his old friend, a grin on his face. "You do that, Albus.”

***

It was a quiet morning at the Potter Townhouse. Dana was sitting at the kitchen table, her legs dangling from the chair as she intently read her new book. Sam was standing by the stove, making pancakes. It took some convincing before the House-elves understood that there was nothing wrong with taking care of them, but Sam just liked to cook every now and then.

Dean was sitting on the other side of the table with his usual cup of coffee, his gaze vacant as he flipped through the morning paper. A soft tap on the window caught their attention. Dana looked up to see an owl sitting by the window with a letter in its beak.

“Daddy, there’s an owl!” Dana said excitedly as she jumped from her chair and ran to the window. Dean slowly stood up and raised an eyebrow. “Another owl? I’m starting to think we’re a post office here.” Sam grinned. “You get used to it.”

Dana opened the window and let the owl in. The bird landed gracefully on the table and extended its leg, which had a parchment letter tied to it. Dean pulled the letter free and the owl flew away without a sound. “Now, let’s see what Dumbledore has to tell us now.”

Dean unrolled the parchment and read aloud:

Dear Dean,

I hope this letter finds you safe and sound.

Following the incident in Diagon Alley, the Aurors have launched an investigation into the attack. One of the most experienced Aurors, Alastor Moody, has asked to speak with you about what exactly happened. He is someone who understands the danger and takes your situation seriously.

I know you are careful about who you confide in. But believe me when I say that Moody is one of the few I trust completely. He has dedicated his entire life to fighting the dark forces like we are fighting.

Moody would like to meet with you to understand more about Dana’s protection and how we can ensure her safety. I'll leave it up to you whether you want to receive him.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Dean rolled up the letter and placed it on the table. He leaned his hands on the tabletop and stared into space, thinking.

"What do you think?" Sam asked, placing a stack of pancakes on a plate. Dean ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I don't trust just anyone, especially magical types."

Dana looked curiously between her father and her uncle. "Who's Moody?"

Sam sat down next to her and smiled reassuringly. "He's an auror. I think that is a sort of magical police officer."

Dana's eyes widened. "A police officer?" Dana turned the letter between her fingers. “So… are we going to meet him?”

Dean sighed and nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’m going to send a letter back with the address. If he’s as good as Dumbledore says, he’ll show up.” Sam nodded in agreement. “Good idea. But you know he’s probably going to analyze everything when he gets here.”

Dean grinned. “Let him come. I love a good test.” Dana looked excited. “Does that mean he’s going to ask questions?” Dean smiled at her. “Probably. But don’t worry, kiddo. We won’t let anyone hurt you.” Dana nodded seriously. “I know, Dad.”

***

Dean sat at the desk in the living room of the Potter Townhouse. In front of him was a piece of paper and a pen. He flat-out refused to use a quill. He frowned at the piece of paper as if he were about to set the paper on fire.

“Why do they have to make everything so difficult?” he muttered. Sam leaned against the doorframe and grinned. “You could just write ‘come over’.” Dean raised his eyebrow. “No. This is important. I’m not going to invite just anyone.”

Dana came up next to him and looked at the parchment curiously. “What are you going to write, Dad?” Dean smiled at her. “A letter for that auror. Moody.”

Dana’s eyes widened. “Can I see it?” Dean rolled his eyes. “You probably think it’s boring, kiddo.” Still, he picked up the pen.

Alastor Moody,

We have received your request via Dumbledore.

If you think you have useful information or can contribute to the safety of my daughter, you are welcome to come by.

Address: Potter Townhouse, London.

But I give you one warning: Do not do anything that I might see as a threat.

Dean Winchester

Dean glanced at the letter and gave it to Dana. “Here, you may give it to Tinker.”

Dana took the letter with a broad smile. “Okay!” She turned to the house-elf, who immediately appeared before her. “Tinker, can you take this letter to Mr. Moody?” she asked politely.

Tinker bowed deeply. “Of course, little mistress.” He took the letter and disappeared with a soft thud. A few hours later, there was a knock on the door of the Townhouse. Dean looked at Sam, his gaze sharp. “That must be him.”

Sam slowly opened the front door and looked out. They had told Tinker that in this case, Sam would answer the door. There stood Mad-Eye Moody, just as Dumbledore had described him. His magic eye was constantly rotating, while his normal eye was staring straight at Sam.

“Sam Winchester, I presume,” Moody grunted.

 Sam nodded. “That’s right.”

“Then I assume your brother is the one who invited me?” Moody stepped inside without hesitation, his staff in his hand.

Dean stood in the living room, his arms crossed. “Moody.” Moody’s magical eye immediately turned to him. “Dean Winchester.”

Dean nodded slowly.  Moody walked over and held out his hand. “Thank you for trusting me.” Dean took his hand and shook it firmly. “I don’t trust anyone just like that.”

Moody’s grin was tight. “Good. Then we’re on the same page.”

Dana stopped at the stairs and looked at Moody with wide eyes. She had heard stories about Aurors, but she had never seen anyone like him. Moody’s gaze fell on her, and his normal eye softened. “Dana Potter.”

Dana nodded slowly. “Hello sir, uhm, Mr. Moody.”

Moody bowed his head. “Your parents would be proud of you.”

Dana’s eyes widened. “You knew my parents?”

“I knew them well,” Moody said, his voice softer than usual. “They were brave people.”

Dana glanced at Dean, as if seeking confirmation. Then she looked back at Moody and stepped closer. “Are you here to protect me?”

Moody nodded slowly. “That’s exactly what I’m here to do.”

Dean stood by the table, his gaze fixed on Mad-Eye Moody, while Sam calmly took a seat on the couch. Dana sat next to Sam, her eyes were riveted to the new guest. Moody’s magical eye continued to spin, scanning every corner of the house, while his normal eye focused on Dean.

“Let’s get straight to the point.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Good idea. Why are you here?”

Moody grinned briefly. “Because there are Death Eaters after your daughter.”

Dean’s jaw tightened. “We knew that already. What we want to know is why.”

Moody walked slowly to the window and looked out. “That’s simple. She’s Dana Potter. The daughter of Lily and James Potter. The only person to ever survive the Killing Curse. And if Voldemort's followers think they can use her to bring back their master, they will stop at nothing until they get her."

Sam leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "We understand that. But what I don't understand is why this is happening now. Voldemort has been gone for years."

Moody turned, his face stern. "Do you think dark magic just goes away? No. It always finds ways to return."

Dana looked at Dean and Sam, her voice soft. “Are they going to keep coming?”

Dean walked over to her and knelt so he could look her in the eye. “We’re not going to let them do anything to you. Do you understand that?”

Dana nodded slowly, but her eyes remained concerned. “But they want me because I’m Dana Potter.”

Moody stepped closer, his voice heavy. “And that’s exactly why you need to be protected. You’re more than just a girl. You’re a symbol of hope to so many people.”

Dana looked at him, her brow furrowed. “But I don’t want to be a symbol. I just want to be… ordinary.” Dean smiled slightly. “You’re ordinary. To us, you’re just Dana.”

Moody turned back to the brothers. “So tell me. How do you guys fight Death Eaters without magic?” Dean grinned. “We have our ways.”

Moody snorted. “Guns and knives. They may work against some creatures, but Death Eaters are a different matter.” Sam nodded. “That’s why we’re willing to learn”

Moody raised his eyebrow. “Learn, you say?” Dean’s gaze remained determined. “We’re not abandoning her. No matter what.”

Moody looked at them for a long time, his gaze unreadable. Finally, he nodded slowly. “You’re not what I expected.”

Dean lifted his chin slightly. “We’ve heard that before.” Moody’s magical eye spun one last time. “Good. Then I’m here to help.”

Sam stood up and held out his hand. “Thank you.” Moody shook his hand and looked at Dana. “And you, young lady. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me.” Dana smiled cautiously. “Thank you, Mr. Moody.”

Moody bowed his head slightly. “Just call me Mad-Eye.”

Chapter Text

The doorbell rang through the Potter Townhouse. Dean looked up from his newspaper and glanced at Sam, who had just poured Dana a cup of tea.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Dean asked with a frown.

Sam shook his head. “No. Tinker would have let me know if there were any visitors.”

Dana looked up from her book curiously. “Should I see who it is?”

“No, kiddo. I’ll handle it.” Dean stood up with a sigh.

He walked to the door and pulled it open. Mad-Eye Moody stood before him, his magical eye constantly turning while his normal eye remained fixed on Dean. His face was stern, as always, and he leaned heavily on his staff.

“Winchester,” Moody grunted. “I’m here on behalf of the Ministry.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “And why exactly?”

Moody grinned briefly. “Floo Network. Albus requested it, and I’m here to make sure it’s done safely.” Dean sighed and held the door open wider. “Come in.”

Moody turned back to Dean. “Where do you want me to set up the connection?”

Dean pointed to the fireplace. “This one seems the most convenient. But let me make one thing clear, Moody: I ​​don’t trust this Floo-business.”

Moody grinned. “Good. No sane man would either.” He walked over to the fireplace and pulled a small bag of Floo powder from his robe. He studied the hearth carefully, his magical eye rolling for any security issues. “The connection to Hogwarts is strictly controlled,” Moody explained as he worked. “No one comes in here without you knowing, Winchester.”

Dean stood with his arms crossed, watching. “I hope so.” Moody drew his staff and whispered a spell. Green flames suddenly shot up in the hearth, dancing without giving off any heat. Dana backed away slightly.

“That’s normal,” Moody said without looking up. “The Floo powder activates the connection.”

Dana watched the green flames, her curiosity stronger than her fear. “So… if I step in there, I’ll get to Hogwarts?”

Moody nodded. “As soon as you say the name out loud and use the powder, yes.”

Dean’s face twisted. “You expect us to travel through a hearth? Seriously?”

“Better than flying on a broom,” Moody grinned.

Sam chuckled. “He has a point.”

Dana turned to Dean. “Can I try?” Dean glanced at Sam, who smiled. “Let her be, Dean. It’s safe.” With a deep sigh, Dean nodded. Moody gave Dana the instructions as the brothers watched. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the bag Moody had left behind. She looked at the green flames doubtfully for a moment, then spoke in a clear voice:

“Hogwarts, Professor Dumbledore’s Office!”

She threw the powder into the fire and stepped in. For a moment, the green flames were all they could see, until Dana suddenly jumped back out of the fireplace, laughing and with her hair a little messy.

“That was great!” Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re back here. What happened?”

Dana wiped her hands on her skirt. “I saw Dumbledore! He said he was on his way.” Dean grunted. “Of course he is.”

A short time later, the green flames in the fireplace resounded again, and with a graceful movement, Albus Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace. “Ah, gentlemen,” he said with his usual calm smile. “I see everything is going well.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Let’s hope it stays that way.”

Albus looked around and saw Moody standing there. “Alastor, thank you for your help.”

Moody nodded briefly. “I’ll stay a little longer. I want to see how they react to your explanation.”

Albus Dumbledore looked around the living room of the Potter Townhouse calmly. His gaze slid over the brothers, who were both looking at him with a mixture of curiosity and distrust. Dana sat next to Sam on the couch, her eyes still glistening from her first Floo trip.

Mad-Eye Moody continued to lean his staff against the wall, his magic eye spinning, while his normal eye remained fixed on Dean. Dumbledore clapped his hands softly. “Good. Now that we’re all together, this seems like an excellent time to discuss a few things.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Let’s start with why we’re constantly learning new things about this world that has apparently existed for centuries. What have we missed?”

Dumbledore smiled slightly. “It’s not so much what you’ve missed, Mr. Winchester. It’s what you never needed to know.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Exactly. Because withholding information always works so well.”

Sam shook his head at Dean. “Let’s just listen.”

Dean sighed and leaned against the wall. “Okay, Professor. What should we look for? And let’s start with those shapeshifters I read about.”

Dumbledore’s smile faded a little. “Ah, you mean animagi.”

Dean’s gaze sharpened. “Is that the same as what we call a shapeshifter?” Dumbledore shook his head. “Not at all. An Animagus is a wizard who can voluntarily transform into a specific animal. It’s a very rare and regulated skill.”

Sam looked up with interest. “How does that work?”

Dumbledore nodded at him. “It takes years of practice and magic. An Animagus retains their human consciousness while transforming into an animal. But it’s not an evil transformation.”

“So, for example, if I see a cat walking around Hogwarts, it could be a wizard?” Dean frowned.

“Correct,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Professor McGonagall, for example, is a registered Animagus and transforms into a cat.”

Dean waved a dismissive gesture. “Wait a minute. So if a cat is walking around the castle, that could be her?”

Dumbledore smiled. “Indeed.” Dean looked at Sam. “And we thought we were seeing strange things.”

Sam turned to Dumbledore. “We’ve heard that you have werewolves too, but they’re different from the monsters we hunt.”

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “That’s right. In our world, a werewolf is someone who transforms into a wolf-like form during the full moon. But with the right tools and magic, they can retain their human consciousness.”

Dean raised his eyebrow. “Human consciousness? So they don’t become bloodthirsty murderers?”

“Not if they take the Wolfsbane Potion,” Dumbledore explained. “It’s a complicated potion, but it allows a werewolf to remain itself during the transformation.” Sam looked genuinely interested. “Do you have many of these werewolves?”

Dumbledore smiled briefly. “There are a few. One of my former students, Remus Lupin, is a werewolf. One of the kindest and most loyal people I know.”

“And yet there are no guarantees.” Dean remained suspicious.

“No magic offers guarantees,” Dumbledore admitted. “But with understanding and precautions, many dangers can be minimized.”

Dana looked at Dumbledore with wide eyes. “And what about the ghosts of Hogwarts? Are they evil?”

Dumbledore smiled softly at her. “Not at all, my dear child. The ghosts of Hogwarts are friendly creatures who choose to remain in the castle.”

Dean’s gaze sharpened. “And they’re not dangerous?”

Dumbledore shook his head. “They’re not evil spirits as you know them. They’re memories of what once was. Sir Nicholas, better known as Nearly Headless Nick, is the ghost of Gryffindor House. He loves to tell stories and helps out where he can.”

Dana looked at Dean, her voice cautious. “So… you don’t have to use salt or silver against them?”

Dean grinned briefly. “Apparently not, kiddo.”

“Okay,” Albus began calmly, “there are a few more things we need to talk about before Dana goes to Hogwarts.”

Dean grunted softly. “Let me guess. More things we don’t know about?”

Albus smiled slightly. “That’s right, Mr. Winchester. And that’s exactly why I’m here.”

Albus sat down quietly and folded his hands together. “Let’s start with the Magical Government, or the Ministry of Magic. They oversee the magical world in Great Britain and are responsible for enforcing our laws.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “So… sort of like the FBI, but with wands?”

“More like a bureaucratic nightmare.” Moody grinned from his corner.

Sam looked up with interest. “How big is this ministry?”

Albus explained, “The ministry has several departments, like Muggle Affairs, Sports, the Obliviation Squad , and of course the Auror department, which Moody is a part of.”

Dean looked at Moody. “And that makes you… what? Some kind of magical SWAT?”

Moody’s magical eye continued to roll as he answered. “You could say I tracked down and eliminated the most dangerous dark wizards. But as you can see…” He patted his wooden leg and tapped his magical eye, “…that comes at a price.”

Dana looked at Moody curiously. “Was it scary?”

Moody grinned at her. “It was necessary.”

Dean turned back to Albus. “And this Minister of Magic? Can he be trusted?”

Albus remained silent for a moment. “That depends on who you ask. Cornelius Fudge is the Minister at the moment, and while he has good intentions, he is sometimes blind to the dangers that present themselves.”

Sam shared a look with Dean and frowned. “So… he ignores problems?”

Albus nodded. “Exactly.” Dean shook his head. “Great. So even the magical world has politicians who ignore problems.”

“Now for something else,” Albus continued. “Something you should definitely know about, given your background. Magical duels.”

Sam leaned forward. “Duels? Like wand fights?”

“Indeed,” Albus confirmed. “Magical duels are an important way that wizards defend themselves. But there are strict rules and forbidden spells.”

Dean’s gaze sharpened. “Forbidden spells?”

Albus nodded slowly. “There are three Unforgivable Curses. Spells that are forbidden because they cause untold harm.”

Dana looked at him with wide eyes. “What are they?” Albus looked at her for a moment, then explained:

Avada Kedavra – The killing curse. A spell that is instantly lethal and impossible to block.

Crucio – The torture curse, which causes unbearable pain without physical harm.

Imperio – The control curse, which allows you to completely control someone and make them do whatever you want.

Dean’s face froze. “So… you have wizards who can kill, torture, and control people with a simple spell?”

“That’s right,” Albus said, his gaze serious. “And that’s exactly why they’re banned.”

Sam looked doubtful. “And yet there are people who use them?”

Moody stepped forward, his gaze dark. “The Death Eaters. Followers of Voldemort. They use those curses without hesitation.”

Dana shivered and moved a little closer to Sam. “And how can we protect ourselves from them?”

Albus smiled softly at her. "There are ways to protect yourself, my dear child. But the most important thing is to always use your courage and intelligence. Magic is powerful, but it is how you use it that matters."

Dean took a deep breath and slowly walked to the window. He stared out, his face a mixture of anger and frustration. “So we have to send our daughter to a school where people with that kind of magic walk around?” he finally said, his voice tight.

Albus nodded quietly. “Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the magical world. And besides, Mr. Winchester… Dana has you. That’s her greatest protection.”

The air in the room felt heavy. Dean’s face was tense, and even Sam seemed deep in thought. Dana, on the other hand, looked at Albus with wide, curious eyes, as if trying to absorb everything he was saying.

Albus smiled slightly. “Now that we’ve discussed defense, I think it would be wise to discuss magical communication. It can be vital in times of danger.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. No phones, no emails?”

Albus shook his head. “Not like you’re used to, no. Owl mail is the most common form of communication in the magical world.”

Dana looked up. “Like Hedwig?”

Albus nodded. “Exactly. An owl delivers a letter directly to the recipient, no matter where they are.”

Dean sighed. “Okay, that sounds convenient. But what if we don’t have time to wait for an owl?”

Albus straightened and made a graceful gesture with his wand. “There is a much more direct way of communicating for that.”

Sam looked up with interest. “And that is?”

Albus stepped to the center of the room and raised his wand. “One of the most powerful defensive spells is the Patronus Charm. Not only does it protect against Dementors, but a Patronus can also be used to send messages.”

Dana watched with wide eyes. “A Patronus?”

Albus smiled. “Let me show you.” He closed his eyes for a moment and focused completely on his thoughts. With a smooth movement of his wand, he called out powerfully, “Expecto Patronum!”

A bright, silvery light shot from his wand, and within seconds, a stunningly beautiful phoenix appeared, floating in the air. The Patronus spread a sense of warmth and safety throughout the room.

Dana stared at the phoenix in wonder. “Wow…”

Dean and Sam stared at the phenomenon with wide eyes.

“So… that’s a Patronus?” Sam slowly stood up and walked closer.

Albus nodded. “Exactly. Each Patronus takes on a different form, depending on the person who summons it.” The phoenix spun elegantly in the air and circled Dana a few times, as if inspecting her. Dana held out her hand, but the Patronus dissolved into a silvery mist.

“And what kind of message can such a thing convey?” Dean asked, his curiosity piqued. Albus smiled. “You can give the Patronus a specific message, which it will convey directly to the recipient. It’s a safe and quick way to communicate, especially in dangerous situations.”

Sam looked at the spot where the Patronus had disappeared, fascinated. “Can we learn that too?”

Albus looked at him. “I am sorry, but you do not have a magical core, and without that, it’s not possible.” Dana looked at Dean with wide eyes. “Dad, do you think I could ever make a Patronus?”

Dean crouched down in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sure you can, kiddo. And if you do, I bet it’s something epic.”

Dana beamed with pride. “Maybe a dragon?” Dean grinned. “Yeah, that would suit you.”

Mad-Eye Moody, who had been standing still listening the entire time, stepped forward. “But remember… a Patronus only works if you evoke the right emotions. It requires a strong, positive memory.”

Dean looked at him. “So what, she needs to think of happy moments?” Moody nodded. “Exactly. As hard as that can be in dark times.”

Sam looked at Dana and smiled. “We have plenty of positive memories to work with.” Dana nodded enthusiastically. “Like when I got Hedwig!”

Dean laughed softly. “Or that time you pranked Sam with that squeaky shoe.” Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, very funny.”

The mood in the room changed as Albus sat down and placed his hands on his knees. His friendly smile disappeared, replaced by a serious look.

“Now that we’ve discussed protecting Dana,” Albus began slowly, “it’s time you learned more about Voldemort… and why he’s still a danger.”

Dana looked cautiously at Dean, who assumed a tense posture. Sam leaned forward slightly, his gaze focused on Albus.

Dean’s jaw muscles tensed. “Good. Let’s talk about this Voldemort then.”

Albus looked straight at Dean. “Voldemort was born as Tom Marvolo Riddle. He was a brilliant but dangerous young wizard who believed in the supremacy of pure-blood wizards. He was obsessed with power and immortality.” Sam frowned. “Immortality?”

Albus nodded slowly. “He sought ways to overcome death. He did this by dividing his soul into pieces and hiding those pieces in objects known as Horcruxes.” Dana shivered. “Like what was inside me?” Albus looked at her with soft eyes. “Yes. But thanks to the goblins of Gringotts, that part of his soul was destroyed.”

Moody grunted approvingly. “Smart move, if you ask me.”

Dean turned to Moody. “But if Voldemort is gone, why are his followers still a problem?” Moody grinned darkly. “Because they want to bring him back. Death Eaters, as they call themselves, believe that Voldemort was never really dead. They are waiting for the right moment to summon him back.”

“But how can they do that if he’s… gone?” Dana tugged on Sam’s sleeve

Albus sighed deeply. “Voldemort’s soul was fragmented. Even if his body was destroyed, a part of his soul remained. No one knows exactly where he is. But if someone is powerful enough to find him… he might return.”

Dean walked slowly across the room, his hands in his pockets. “So we’re dealing with some kind of magical zombie.” Sam glanced at him. “It’s more serious than that, Dean. This is someone who has terrorized an entire society.”

“Exactly,” Albus confirmed. “Voldemort is responsible for killing hundreds of people, including Lily and James Potter.” Dana looked down at her shoes, her hands clenched in her lap.

Dean turned and looked at Albus sharply. “And why did he try to kill Dana? Why her?” Albus was silent for a moment before answering. “There’s been a lot of speculation about that. Some people believe he was afraid of a prophecy that foretold a child would be born who would defeat him.” Sam frowned. “A prophecy?”

Albus nodded. “But no one knows for sure if that was the reason. What we do know is that Voldemort did everything he could to find that child. And when he discovered it was Dana, he attacked her.” Dana looked up, her eyes wide. “But I was a baby. How could I defeat him?”

Albus smiled sadly. “Your mother, Lily, gave her life to protect you. She used a powerful ancient magic: the magic of sacrifice and love. That protected you from the killing curse.” Dana swallowed. “So that’s why I survived?”

“Yes,” Albus confirmed softly. “Your survival caused Voldemort to lose his body. But his soul… it remained.” Dean clenched his fists. “So we’re dealing with a man who doesn’t die, whose followers still want her, and whose soul has been chopped into pieces?”

Albus nodded calmly. “That sums it up nicely, Mr. Winchester.” Dean shook his head. “And you call this a safe world.” Moody stepped forward. “That’s exactly why I’m here. To make sure no one can harm her.”

Dana looked at Dean and Sam, her eyes full of worry. “Are they going to keep coming? The Death Eaters?”

Dean crouched down in front of her and took her hands. “Listen carefully, kiddo. No matter what happens, Sam and I are here to protect you. No one will touch you.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “We entered into this for a reason. We knew there were dangers, but that only makes us more determined to make sure you are safe.”

Dana smiled weakly. “Thank you.” Dean squeezed her hands gently. “You are a Winchester. And that means you are never alone.”

Moody looked at Albus. “What’s next?” Albus looked at Dana. “Dana will be going to Hogwarts soon. But I suggest we make sure she is as prepared as possible for whatever awaits her.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Agreed. And that means we need to learn too.”

Moody’s magical eye turned to Dean. “That can be arranged.”

Chapter Text

The morning sun was breaking through the window of the Potter Townhouse, its rays falling on the trunk in the hallway. Dana was sitting on the edge of the couch, her new Hogwarts uniform neatly donned, her wand tucked safely in a pouch on her belt. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, but there was also a hint of nervousness in her gaze.

Dean was pacing the room, his hands deep in his pockets. He glanced at Dana every few seconds to remind himself that this was all happening. Sam entered the living room with two coffee mugs. “Here.” He handed one to Dean and sat down next to Dana.

Dana looked up at Sam. “What time do we have to be there?”

“Eleven,” Sam replied. “The train leaves Platform 9¾ right on time.”

Dana nervously wiggled her foot. “How do we get there?”

Dean chuckled. “Apparently we have to walk through a wall.”

Dana raised her eyebrows. “Through a wall?” Sam nodded with a smile. “That’s what Hagrid told us. It sounds strange, but… magic.”

Dana giggled. “Magic.”

Dean put down his mug and walked over to the trunk. He rechecked it to make sure everything was there. “Okay,” he mumbled. “You’ve got your books, your uniform, your wand…”

“And Hedwig,” Dana added cheerfully. She looked at the owl in her cage, who turned her head and winked at Dean.

Dean grinned briefly. “Yeah, and Hedwig.”

Sam stood up and patted Dana gently on the shoulder. “Are you ready, kiddo?”

Dana nodded, but her smile faded a little. “Yeah… but I’m going to miss you guys.”

Dean walked over to her and crouched down in front of her, looking her in the eye. “Listen, Dana. We’re always just a Floo connection or a letter away. And you’re in for an amazing adventure.”

Dana bit her lip. “But… you’re my family.” Dean smiled softly and put his hand on her shoulder. “And we always will be. Always.”

King’s Cross Station was busy and chaotic, as always. Dana held Sam’s hand tightly as they made their way through the crowd. Dean walked slightly ahead of them, constantly alert, his gaze sharp.

“Platform 9¾,” Dean mumbled. “So… somewhere between 9 and 10?”

Sam nodded. “That’s what they said.”

Dana looked around. “I don’t see any fences or gates.”

Dean stopped and looked at the wall between platforms 9 and 10. “Maybe… it’s just a wall.” Sam looked at him. “You think?”

Dean grinned. “You know what? You go first.”

Sam sighed. “Of course.” He squeezed Dana’s hand gently. “Ready?”

Dana nodded nervously. “Yeah.” With Sam at her side, they walked straight to the wall… and disappeared through it. Dean paused for a moment, looked around, took a deep breath, and stepped after it.

On the other side of the wall, they were greeted by the bustling sound of the platform full of wizards and witches. The Hogwarts Express stood ready, red and shiny, smoke curling from the chimney.

Dana’s eyes widened in amazement. “Wow…” Dean looked around, clearly impressed despite himself. “Okay, this is pretty cool.” Sam smiled at Dana. “There’s your train.”

Dana looked up at Dean. “Do you want to come inside?” Dean shook his head. “This is your adventure, kiddo. But make us proud, okay?” Dana jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly. “I will, Daddy.”

Dean swallowed hard, held her tight, and whispered in her ear, “We love you.” Sam stepped closer and placed a hand on her head. “And remember… we’re always just one letter away.” Dana nodded, her eyes shining with tears. “I will write. Every week.” Dean grinned. “I expect you to.”

Dana boarded the train and found a seat by the window. She opened the window and waved enthusiastically to Dean and Sam. “See you soon!” she called.

“See you soon!” they called back. The train honked loudly, and the Hogwarts Express slowly began to move. Dana continued to wave until she saw her family disappear from view. Dean stood there until the train was out of sight. He took a deep breath and looked at Sam.

“She’ll be fine,” Sam said softly. Dean nodded slowly. “I know. But still… it feels like we’re leaving a piece of ourselves behind.” Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s because we are. But we’ll always be there for her.” Dean looked down at the trail and smiled. “Yeah. And if someone wants to hurt her… they don’t know what’s coming.”

***

The steam of the Hogwarts Express curled upward as the train slowly pulled out of the station. Dana leaned out of the window and waved enthusiastically to Sam and Dean. Her face was beaming with joy, but her eyes also glistened with sadness. The goodbye was harder than she had expected.

Dean raised his hand in a final salute and stood there until the train disappeared from view. Only then did he turn to Sam. “Well… that’s that.”

“Do you think she’ll make it?” Sam asked softly. Dean nodded slowly, but his face betrayed his concern. “She’s a Winchester. She’ll be fine.” They stood there in silence for a moment, until a warm, friendly voice interrupted them. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but may I interrupt?”

Sam turned to see a kind, pot-bellied man watching them with a smile from ear to ear. He wore an aged cloak and had a strange kind of curiosity in his eyes. Next to him stood a woman with red hair, watching them suspiciously, her arms crossed tightly.

“Arthur Weasley,” the man introduced himself, holding out his hand. “And this is my wife, Molly.” Dean took Arthur’s hand, though he was clearly still on guard. “Dean Winchester. This is my brother, Sam.” Arthur looked at them with wide eyes. “Winchester? Fascinating! And you’re not wizards, are you?” Dean raised his eyebrow. “Is that so obvious?”

Arthur chuckled. “Ah, you look… different.” Sam smiled politely. “That’s right. We’re muggles.”

Arthur’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Fascinating! And you’re sending the Potter girl to Hogwarts?” Molly’s gaze softened slightly, but a hint of suspicion remained in her eyes. “Yes… how does that work exactly?”

Dean looked straight at her, his posture protective. “Dana is my daughter.”

Molly’s eyes narrowed. “But… the Potters are a famous wizarding family. How did she end up with you?” Dean’s face remained stern. “We adopted her.” Arthur clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Adoption! What an interesting concept. And what do you do for a living?”

Sam gave Dean a quick look and decided to take matters into his own hands. “We hunt.” Arthur’s eyes widened even further. “Hunt? What do you mean?” Dean grinned dryly. “Monsters.” Arthur looked at him in disbelief. “Monsters? Like what?”

Dean shrugged. “Ghosts, vampires, demons… that sort of thing.” Arthur’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Unbelievable! And you don’t use magic?”

“No magic,” Dean confirmed. “Just salt, silver, and a lot of bullets.” Molly let out a startled cry. “You… hunt ghosts? And… vampires? And you have a child with you?”

Dean’s gaze darkened. “We protect her. That’s what we do.”

Arthur’s curiosity overcame Molly’s concern. “So you know how to use Muggle technology to kill ghosts?” Sam nodded. “That’s right. And we’ve learned that some creatures in the magical world are… quite different from what we’re used to.”

Arthur looked at Sam with great interest. “Maybe we should have a talk about Muggle protection techniques. I’m sure the Ministry could use that.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure. Maybe you could also give us a lesson on how not to walk through walls to get somewhere.”

Arthur grinned widely. “Well, I have to say… I find you fascinating. Muggles with knowledge of the supernatural! Molly, can you imagine?”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Yes, Arthur. Fascinating. But we have to go.” Arthur extended his hand again to Dean and Sam. “It’s been a pleasure. Maybe we’ll see each other again.”

Dean grinned briefly and shook his hand. “Maybe.” As the Weasleys left, Dean watched them go. “Strange people.” Sam chuckled. “They could say the same about us.”

***

Dana sat alone in her compartment, her wand safely tucked away in her handbag. She looked out at the fields that shot past the window, trying to ignore the nervousness in her stomach. Everything still felt so strange. The train, the magical world… the fact that she was without Sam and Dean for the first time.

Just as she was starting to feel a little lost, the compartment door slammed open. “This looks like a great place to relax, Fred,” said a boy with bright red hair and a wide grin. “Absolutely, George,” replied the other, who looked exactly the same.

Dana looked up in surprise. Two boys who were identical. Twins. They both had a mischievous twinkle in their eyes and wore their Hogwarts uniforms casually, as if they were completely out of place there. “Hello there,” said the first twin. “You’re all alone here. Is that okay?”

Dana smiled cautiously. “I think so?” The second brother leaned against the doorframe. “We’re Fred and George Weasley. And you are?”

Dana hesitated. She knew the name Potter meant a lot in the magical world, but it felt strange to introduce herself like that. “Dana,” she said softly. “Dana Potter.”

The twins’ reaction wasn’t what she expected. Instead of being shocked or asking strange questions, they simply exchanged a knowing look.

“Potter, you say?” Fred asked.

“Interesting,” George said.

Dana felt uncomfortable. “Why is that interesting?”

“Don’t worry,” Fred said quickly, plopping down on the couch next to her. “We’ve had our fair share of dealings with famous people.”

“Yeah,” George nodded seriously. “Our mother says we’re pretty famous too. At least, in the neighborhood.” Dana giggled. “You guys are funny.”

“We’re trying,” Fred said with a wink. “First year huh?” Dana nodded.

“We’re third years,” George said. “But we don’t want to brag about how much we know.” He grinned. “Although, if you want some tips on how to avoid Filch…”

“Or how to avoid Peeves…”

“Or how to find the best places to get lost…” Dana laughed harder. For the first time since she’d been on the train, she felt at ease. Fred pulled a bag of Hogwarts Sweets from his coat. “Sweets?”

Dana carefully picked up a Chocolate Frog. “Thanks.” George leaned forward slightly. “So, Dana Potter… who drove you to the station?” Dana’s smiled. “My dad and uncle.”

Fred and George exchanged another look. This time more seriously. “You have two dads?” Fred asked. “No… I’m adopted,” Dana explained. “By Dean Winchester.”

The twins stared at her, and then George broke into a grin. “Winchester? Like… the famous hunters?” Dana looked surprised. “You know them?”

“Our father works at the Ministry of Magic,” Fred explained. “He sometimes talks about Muggles hunting magical creatures.” George nodded enthusiastically. “He finds it fascinating.” Dana chuckled. “That’s what they always say.”

Fred gave her a gentle slap on the shoulder. “Look, Potter. With that name and that family behind you… you don’t have to worry about anything. You’ll be fine.” Dana sat with her Chocolate Frog in her hand, listening to the twins put her at ease with their witty remarks. But as the train took a sharp turn, she frowned at them.

“How does it… work with the houses?” she asked cautiously. “I mean… I know you’re sorted somewhere. But what if I don’t fit?” Fred and George exchanged another look, but this time with a bit more seriousness. “Oh, that won’t happen,” George said reassuringly.

“Exactly,” Fred nodded. “Everyone fits somewhere. The Sorting Hat knows where you belong.” Dana bit her lip. “But… what if I end up in Slytherin?”

George raised his eyebrows. “Why would that be a bad thing?” Dana looked at him in surprise. “Well… I heard from Hagrid that’s the bad house.”

Fred shook his head. “That’s not entirely true. Yes, bad people have come from Slytherin. But bad people have come from other houses, too.” George leaned forward a little. “Houses are a description of who you are, not what you’ll become.”

Fred began with his typical humor. “Look, I’m a Gryffindor. That means I’m brave.” He pointed at George. “And he’s a Gryffindor too… but he’s mostly reckless.” George playfully smacked him on the shoulder. “Well, thank you.”

Fred continued. “Ravenclaw means you’re a learner. Hufflepuff means you’re hardworking and loyal.” Dana looked at him expectantly. “And… Slytherin?” George thought for a moment. “Slytherin means you’re ambitious and want to protect yourself. That’s not a bad thing at all.”

Dana frowned. “So it doesn’t matter where I end up?” Fred smiled warmly. “No, really. The only thing that matters is that you stay true to yourself.” George nodded. “And who knows… you might end up in Gryffindor with us.” Dana laughed softly. “I would like that.”

***

The sky was dark as the Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt on the platform at Hogsmeade Station. Dana stood in the doorway of the carriage, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to take it all in.

“This is it,” she whispered to herself, her breath visible in the crisp evening air. The doors of the train swung open and dozens of children stepped out, chatting and laughing as they packed their bags. Dana felt overwhelmed. She looked around, searching for a familiar face, but everything still felt so strange.

Suddenly, a deep, friendly voice rang out across the platform.

“FIRST YEARS! FIRST YEARS, OVER HERE!”

Dana’s face brightened as she saw Hagrid, waving his huge hands. She hurried over to him, her cloak wrapped tightly around her.

“There you are, Dana!” Hagrid called with a wide smile. “Come on, girl.” Dana walked beside him as Hagrid led a group of first-years down the dark path. The lake glistened in the moonlight, and on the other side, the silhouette of Hogwarts appeared, vast and magical.

Dana held her breath. The castle looked like something out of a fairy tale. Towers and spires towered skyward, while lights flickered in the windows.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. Hagrid smiled at her. “It certainly is, girl.”

The first-years followed Professor McGonagall through the large wooden doors and into the Great Hall, where floating candles hung above them and the ceiling reflected the starry sky. Dana’s eyes widened in wonder. “This is magical,” she murmured.

McGonagall led the group forward, where the Sorting Hat sat on a wooden stool. Dana swallowed. She had heard about this from Fred and George, but it still felt intimidating.

The professor spoke in her usual stern voice, “When I call your name, you will come forward and put on the hat. The hat will sort you into one of four houses.” Dana felt her hands trembling as the names were called out one by one.

“Bones, Susan.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“Bones, Terry.”

“RAVENCLAW!”

Dana looked around. The Slytherin table looked grim with its silver and green decorations, while Gryffindor looked warm and inviting.

Suddenly McGonagall’s voice sounded again, and this time she called out, “Potter, Dana.”

The Great Hall fell silent. All eyes were on her.

Dana swallowed hard and stepped forward. She could feel the gazes of the older students on her, but she held her head high. She sat down on the stool and put on the hat.

The hat dropped down over her eyes and immediately began to speak. Dana sat quietly on the stool, the Sorting Hat firmly on her head. The great hall suddenly seemed very quiet, as if everyone was holding their breath. “Hmm,” the hat began, its voice soft but piercing in her ears. “Very interesting. A Potter and a Winchester. What a combination.”

Dana swallowed. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, I see a lot in you. Courage, certainly. But also a deep loyalty and a strong desire for a home. You’ve been through a lot, girl.” She nodded slightly. “I just want to belong somewhere.”

The hat hummed thoughtfully. “Gryffindor would suit you well because of your courage and determination. But that’s not your greatest strength. You’re loyal to those you love, and you have a big heart. Hufflepuff will help you grow.” Dana felt a wave of relief flow through her. “Hufflepuff sounds… nice.”

“Nice, you say? No, Hufflepuff is much more than just nice. It’s a place where you will flourish. So let’s make it clear: HUFFLEPUFF!” The Hufflepuff table erupted in loud applause and cheers. Dana breathed a sigh of relief as she carefully removed the hat and slid off the stool. Her hands were shaking a little, but her heart felt lighter. As she walked to the Hufflepuff table, she heard whispers going through the hall.

“Potter? She’s a Potter?”

“I thought she was going to be in Gryffindor.”

“Interesting…”

At the Hufflepuff table, a friendly girl with dark brown hair stood up and beckoned her enthusiastically. “Come here, you can sit with us!” Dana smiled and sat down next to the girl, who immediately introduced herself. “I’m Hannah Abbott. And this is Susan Bones.”

Susan nodded politely. “Welcome to Hufflepuff.” Dana finally felt more at ease. The warmth and friendliness of her new house gave her a sense of security she had never felt before.

Fred and George, sitting at the Gryffindor table, clapped loudly and grinned at Dana. Fred leaned toward George. “She’ll do just fine there. She’s got the right people around her.”

“Absolutely,” said George. “Hufflepuff is a good choice.”

Dana felt more at home at dinner. The Hufflepuffs were friendly, and they put her at ease with stories about Hogwarts and what to expect. Hannah leaned toward her. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you find your way around. That’s what Hufflepuffs do.” Dana smiled. For the first time in a long time, she felt like this might work out.

Chapter Text

The Hufflepuff dormitory was quiet and warm. The beds were arranged in a circle around the crackling fireplace, and heavy golden curtains hung around the four-poster beds. Dana lay in bed, facing the window. The stars shone brightly outside, and the quiet of the room contrasted with the chaos that had been her life for the past few months.

Dana turned onto her side and picked up the small amulet Dean had given her. It felt familiar in her hands. She closed her eyes and whispered softly, “Castiel? Are you there?”

The room remained silent. She sighed, feeling her eyes sting. “I know you’re busy, but… I just want Dad and Uncle Sam to know that I’m okay.” Suddenly, the room was filled with a soft, warm light. Dana looked up, and there he was: Castiel, in his long trench coat and a calm, protective look in his blue eyes.

“Dana,” he said softly, as if he didn’t want to startle her. Dana sat up, her face relieved. “You really did come.”

Castiel nodded. “I can always hear when you call me.”

She smiled, her voice still a whisper. “I wanted to ask you if you could… tell Dad and Sam that I’m in Hufflepuff? They’ll want to know.”

Castiel looked at her intently, his head tilted slightly, as he always did when he was thinking. “Hufflepuff,” he repeated, a small smile tugging at his lips. “A division of loyalty and honesty. It suits you.”

Dana nodded, her eyes wide. “Do you think so?”

He stepped closer and placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. “I know. And I’ll tell them. They’ll be proud of you, just like I am.” Dana felt a warmth flow through her at his words. She knew Castiel was always honest, and that made his compliment all the more precious.

She looked up at him, her voice small. “Do you think I’ll do well here?”

Castiel leaned slightly toward her. “Dana, you’ve overcome so much. You’re stronger than you think. And remember, you’re never truly alone. They’re always behind you, and so am I.”

She smiled weakly. “Thank you.” With a soft flash of light, Castiel disappeared, leaving Dana feeling calm. She crawled under the covers and closed her eyes, imagining the grin Dean would have when he found out she was in Hufflepuff.

***

Dean sat slumped in an old armchair in the living room of the London house, a bottle of beer in his hand. Sam was leafing through a book about magical creatures at the kitchen table, while a house elf, Tinker, moved quietly in the background. The house felt strangely quiet without Dana.

“I’m telling you, Sammy,” Dean began, staring at the ceiling. “It’s only day one, and I miss her already.”

Sam smiled briefly, without looking up. “Me too. But it’s good for her. She belongs there.”

Dean grunted something unintelligible and took a swig of his beer. Just then, the light in the room flashed, and there stood Castiel, his usual serious expression on his face.

 Dean froze and put down his bottle. “Jesus, Cas! Can’t you just ring the bell before you show up?”

Castiel tilted his head slightly at him. “Why would I call? I don’t need a phone.” Sam grinned and closed his book. “What brings you here, Cas?”

The angel turned to them, his voice as calm and determined as ever. “Dana asked me to tell you something.” Dean leaned forward, his face softening. “Is she okay?”

Castiel nodded. “She’s safe. She’s been placed in Hufflepuff.” Sam smiled widely. “Hufflepuff. That sounds perfect for her.” Dean frowned. “Hufflepuff? What does that mean? Is that the house with the crazy hats?”

Sam chuckled. “No, it’s the house of loyalty, hard work, and friendship. It really suits her.” Castiel looked at them both. “Dana wanted you to know that she feels good about her choice. She wanted you to be proud of her.”

Dean stared at the floor for a moment, his jaw set. Then he nodded slowly. “I am proud. Of course I am.”

A brief silence fell in the room, filled with the unspoken emotions that were running through them. Dean sighed and stood up. “Well, that’s good to hear. Thanks, Cas.”

Sam looked at Castiel. “Is she going to keep talking to you?”

Castiel smiled weakly. “She knows she can talk to me at any time. She’s a strong girl.”

Dean suddenly grinned. “Strong? That’s an understatement. She’s a Winchester.”

The next morning;

Dean stood in the kitchen of their London home, a mug of coffee in his hand and a frown on his face. He looked at Sam sitting at the table, poring over a thick, dusty book about magical creatures.

“I’m telling you, Sam,” Dean began, pointing with his mug. “This whole magical world is a circus. Owls, talking paintings, kids flying on brooms… It’s like I’m on a bad acid trip.”

Sam chuckled, not looking up. “And yet we’ve adapted pretty well, don’t you think?” When a flash of light filled the room, Dean was about to say something. Mad-Eye Moody suddenly appeared in the fireplace, his magic eye spinning as he surveyed the space.

“Jesus!” Dean jumped back, spilling coffee on his shirt. “Can’t you warn people before you barge in like that?” Moody grinned, his scars digging deeper into his face. “Where’s the fun in that, Winchester?”

Sam closed the book and stood up. “Moody. What brings you here?”

Moody stepped into the kitchen and fixed them with his usual eye. “Work. I have an offer for you.” Dean wiped the coffee from his shirt and eyed Moody suspiciously. “Work? What kind of work?”

Moody leaned against the counter, his staff in his hand. “The Ministry saw you in action, in Diagon Alley. They weren’t exactly happy about the shots, but no one can deny that you get results.” Sam nodded slowly. “And now they want our help?”

Moody’s lips curled into a half-smirk. “Something like that. You’re not supposed to work for the Ministry—you don’t fit into their bureaucratic nonsense. But I want you as outside investigators. When there are cases where magic and… Muggle methods collide, you can make a difference.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “So we’ll do the dirty work?”

“Exactly,” Moody said without batting an eyelid. “And you’ll have access to resources and information that most people can only dream of.” Sam leaned against the table. “What kind of stuff are we talking about?”

Moody’s voice lowered. “Dark magic. Artifacts. People going places they shouldn’t. Things the Ministry can’t handle because they can’t see outside their magical glasses.” Dean thought for a moment and looked at Sam. “What do you think?”

Sam shrugged. “It sounds… interesting. Moody nodded approvingly. “I figured you’d say that.” Dean crossed his arms and looked sharply at Moody. “What’s the catch? There’s always a catch.”

Moody’s smile faded. “You’re right. The Ministry doesn’t fully trust you. They’ll be keeping an eye on you. But as long as you do your job, I will keep them at bay.”

***

Dana sat at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, her plate full of toast, eggs, and a small pile of bacon. The room was filled with the murmur of hundreds of voices as students ate their first breakfast of the new school year.

“What’s our first class?” Hannah Abbott asked kindly, raising a glass of pumpkin juice to her lips.

Dana picked up her schedule, which she had received the night before, and showed it to her. “Potions… with Professor Snape.” Hannah made a face. “Oh, Snape. He’s not exactly… friendly.”

Susan Bones, who was sitting on Dana’s other side, leaned forward. “But he’s brilliant. As long as you try hard and don’t upset him, you’ll be fine.” Dana nodded, but felt a nervous knot in her stomach. She didn’t want to give the wrong impression, especially to a teacher who might know her family history.

The potions classroom was cold and damp, with shelves of gleaming bottles and jars lining the walls. Dana followed her classmates in and took a seat at the edge of the room. She looked around, nervous but also curious. The door slammed open, and Professor Snape entered the room, his cloak fluttering behind him. He looked around with his sharp, dark eyes, and the room fell silent.

“Welcome to Potions,” he began in his signature whispery yet piercing voice. “You may think this is a simple subject, but let me disabuse you. Potions require precision, focus, and complete dedication to detail. One mistake, and you could cause catastrophic consequences.” Dana swallowed and picked up her parchment and quill, ready to write down everything he said.

Snape tasked them with making a simple Healing Elixir. Dana followed the instructions carefully, triple-checking each step. She could feel Snape's gaze on her occasionally, but he said nothing, which she took as a good sign.

As he passed her workbench, he paused and looked at her cauldron. "Fair enough," he said briefly. But before he walked on, he added softly, "A good start, Potter. 5 points to Hufflepuff.”

***

The elevator made a strange, clattering sound as it moved downward. Dean leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed, as he looked alternately at Sam and Moody. “A magical ministry, underground,” he muttered. “What’s wrong with a normal office building?”

Moody gave him a pointed look. “And how would we keep that a secret from Muggles, Winchester?” Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe by not having everyone walk around in robes? Just an idea.”

The elevator came to a soft stop, and the metal doors slid open. Before them stretched a vast hall, golden tiles glinting in the light of floating candles. Wizards and witches in colorful cloaks walked back and forth, some carrying stacks of parchment, others carrying cases that seemed improbably large for their size.

Dean stared at a witch using her wand to perform a levitation spell on a stack of books taller than herself. “This feels like a bad episode of The Twilight Zone,” he whispered to Sam.

Sam grinned. “Welcome to their world, Dean.”

As Moody led them down the hall, the brothers noticed the many suspicious glances that followed them. Conversations stopped as people frowned at them. Dean sighed. “I don’t know if I feel any less welcome here than I do in hell or not.”

“That’s a compliment,” Moody grunted without looking back. Suddenly, a young witch approached them. She was small, with short brown hair and glasses that were perched crookedly on her nose. “You must be the Winchesters,” she said, looking at them as if they were some strange species. “I’m Auror Susan Dawlish. Mr. Moody asked me to escort you here.”

Moody nodded approvingly. “Dawlish is one of the few here who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty.”

Dawlish led them through hallways and into a small conference room. The walls were decorated with animated posters of fugitive wizards and witches, who occasionally turned their faces away or grinned mockingly at them.

She set down a stack of files and looked at them seriously. “The Ministry is… divided over your appointment. Some see you as a valuable asset because of your experience with the supernatural. Others think you’re a liability.”

Dean grinned broadly. “Oh, let me guess. They have no idea how to handle a shotgun.”

Dawlish smiled as she set down a stack of files and looked at them seriously. “Your first case is… unusual,” she began. “In a small village in Cornwall, a boy, a Muggle child, found a ring. Not just any ring…a ring with a powerful, dark aura.”

She slid a photograph toward them. A black ring with a simple but intriguing symbol lay on the parchment. The symbol consisted of a circle, a triangle, and a line.

Sam picked up the photograph and stared at it. “What is this?” Dawlish looked at Moody, who shook his head and spoke. “A relic from another time. The Ministry knows that this ring contains something dangerous. It has a curse on it, a powerful, deadly curse. So far, no one has been able to touch it without suffering the consequences.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “But a child has touched it?”

Dawlish nodded. “That’s what makes this case so strange. The boy, he’s a Muggle, picked up the ring and didn’t notice anything. But since he did, he says he’s been hearing voices. He has nightmares and says the ring talks to him.”

Sam put down the photo. “What do you know about the curse?”

“Not enough,” Dawlish admitted. “But the ring was hidden in an ancient burial ground, surrounded by powerful spells that were supposed to prevent anyone from finding it. How that boy was able to break through the protection, we don’t know. Maybe the magic recognized something in him.”

Moody’s magical eye turned to Dean. “The most important thing is that you understand that this thing isn’t just an artifact. It has a purpose—a dark purpose. And if you can discover that, we might be able to limit the damage.”

“Okay, guys,” Moody said, gripping his staff tightly. “We’re going to Apparate. It’s the fastest way to get there.” Dean looked at him as if he’d just suggested jumping off a cliff. “Apparition? Sounds like I’m going to see my breakfast again.”

Sam suppressed a smile. “Come on, Dean. How bad can it be?” Moody growled. “Close your mouth, take a deep breath, and stay still.”

Dean looked at his brother, his gaze full of distrust. “If I get ripped apart, it’s your fault.”

Moody held out his staff, and before Dean could say anything else, he felt a tug on his entire body. It was like being pushed through a narrow tube; the air was squeezed out of his lungs, and his stomach turned. They landed in an open field with a loud thud. Dean staggered, his hand pressed against his stomach. “Oh, what… in… the hell was that?!”

Moody looked at him dryly. “Apparition. Get used to it.” Dean stumbled over to a bush and leaned against it. “No thanks. Give me a long drive, even if it’s on the left.”

Sam laughed softly. “Come on, Dean. It wasn’t that bad.” Dean gave him a look that left nothing to the imagination. “Next time, you take that tube ride alone, Sammy.”

Moody led them into the village of Little Hangleton, a quiet town of narrow streets and stone houses. It felt almost silent as if the air was heavy with unspoken secrets.

***

The door to the small stone house was opened gently by a woman with tired eyes and a tense smile. She looked at the three men on her stoop, her gaze lingering on Moody, whose magical eye was moving restlessly from side to side.

Sam stepped forward, holding up his most reassuring smile. “Hello, ma’am. We’re here to talk about what happened to your son. Is that okay?”

The woman nodded hesitantly and opened the door. “Come in. But…” She glanced at Moody. “Can he turn that… thing… off?”

Dean stifled a laugh as Moody grunted. “My eye stays where it is, ma’am.” He remained standing by the door, his staff firmly in his hand. “I’m staying here. You can handle this.”

The living room was small but cozy, with a weathered couch and toys strewn across the floor. A boy of about eight sat on the couch, his knees drawn up and his eyes wide with fear. Sam and Dean sat down carefully in the chairs across from him.

Dean leaned forward slightly, his tone friendly but direct. “Hi, buddy. I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam. We want to help you. Can you tell us what happened?”

The boy looked at his mother, who nodded encouragingly and swallowed. “I was playing… near the cemetery. I saw something glinting in the ground near an old shack.”

“And then?” Sam asked softly.

“I dug it up. It was a ring. It was black and had something engraved on it… some kind of symbol. I liked it, so I took it with me.” His voice shook a little. “But when I got home… it started.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “What started?”

The boy looked straight at him, his voice almost a whisper. “A voice. He said his name was Tom. And that he wanted to be my friend.” Sam leaned forward. “What else did Tom say?”

The boy fiddled with his sleeve. “He told me to help him. That he was a prisoner and that I was special. But he also got angry when I didn’t understand him. He told me not to tell anyone about the ring.” Dean glanced at Sam, whose face was serious. “And where is the ring now?” Dean asked.

The mother, who had been standing quietly in the corner of the room, finally spoke. “The police took it. But they came back later and said it was… gone.”

Sam frowned. “Gone?” The woman nodded nervously. “They said they couldn’t find it. But I’m sure it was here when they took it.”

After the conversation, Sam, Dean, and Moody stood in the garden. Moody looked at them sternly. “Gone, huh? That doesn’t sound like an accident.”

Sam nodded. “If that ring has a curse or some kind of protection, it can move itself. But why was that boy able to pick it up without consequences?” Moody grunted something unintelligible. “The spells on that ring must be complicated. It’s possible that the magic recognized it as innocent. But that means the ring has a mind of its own, and that’s never a good sign.”

Dean looked at Sam. “What do you think? Tom? A ring disappearing? This feels like something much bigger than what we can handle here.” Sam took a deep breath. “We need to find that ring before someone else does. And I want to find out who this Tom is.”

Chapter Text

All through the afternoon Dean and Sam walked with Moody around the area, searching for clues. The boy had mentioned an old shack, where he had found the ring.

After an hour of walking through thick undergrowth, they found it: a dilapidated cottage, half hidden by wild plants and covered in moss at the base of a large mansion on a hill. The walls were crooked and half collapsed, and the windows were covered in cobwebs. On the door was a snake nailed onto it. Even without magic, the brothers could sense that something was wrong.

“What is this place?” Dean asked, shining his flashlight on the structure. Moody looked at the cottage with his magic eye and grunted. “This is no ordinary house. This… I think this used to belong to the Gaunt family.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “The Gaunts? Who are they?”

“An old magical family,” Moody explained. “Extremely proud of their bloodline, and completely insane. This house exudes magic, but it’s corrupt and dark. This is where that boy must have found the ring.” Moody stepped closer, his wand steady in his hand. “There are powerful ward spells around this house. No wonder no one comes here.” Dean snorted. “Sounds like a nice place. How do we get in?”

Moody grinned weakly. “Not without help.” Sam looked at the house and felt a shiver run down his spine. “What kind of help?”

“Cursebreakers,” Moody replied shortly. “Gringotts has experts who can handle this kind of thing. But this kind of magic takes time.”

Dean tightened his grip on his shotgun. “So we wait while those goblins come here?”

“Exactly,” Moody grunted. “Unless you want to get yourself cursed, Winchester.” Moody sent a Patronus to the bank and they settled in to wait. About two hours later, two goblins from Gringotts arrived. The leader introduced himself as Tharrok, a goblin with a sharp face and eyes that seemed to watch his every move. His companion, Vrix, carried a trunk full of tools and runic tablets.

Tharrok glanced at the dilapidated cottage and grunted something in goblin language to Vrix, who immediately began working on analyzing the protective magic. Tharrok then looked at Moody, his posture impatient. “This house is full of dark magic. You humans don’t understand half the complexity of this kind of work.”

Dean chuckled. “That sounds like you’re trying to compliment us.” Tharrok snorted and turned his attention to the house. “Stay away and keep your mouths shut. This is going to take time.”

While the goblins worked, Sam, Dean, and Moody waited at a safe distance. Sam watched as the goblins laid runic tablets on the ground and muttered intricate spells. It took hours, but eventually, a soft green light formed around the entrance to the cottage. Tharrok looked over his shoulder at Moody. “The protection is gone. But what lies within is… dangerous. We can sense that already.”

Moody nodded. “That’s why you’re here.”

With a final incantation, Vrix removed a large stone from the floor of the cottage. Beneath the stone lay a small, black object: a ring with an intriguing symbol etched into its surface. It radiated an ominous energy, as if defending itself from prying eyes.

Tharrok took a pair of silver tongs from his case and carefully lifted the ring. His face twisted as he felt the force of the curse. “This thing is more than just cursed,” he said slowly. “It’s an anchor… a piece of something that was never meant to exist.” Moody drew his staff and looked around alertly. “Can you take it to Gringotts?”

“That’s the only place it can be safe,” Tharrok replied. “But this is dangerous work. This kind of magic always attracts more trouble.” Dean looked at Sam. “I don’t like it when goblins warn us of trouble.” Sam nodded gravely. “We need to keep an eye on this.”

***

The great marble hall of Gringotts, Diagon Alley, glittered in the light of floating lamps. Dean looked around with a mixture of admiration and mild irritation. “It’s like a mix between a fortress and a museum,” he muttered as they followed Tharrok and Vrix.

Sam smiled faintly. “It’s a fortress. And given what we felt at the ring, I can see why they need it.” Moody grunted. “Pay attention, Winchester. This is no place to joke.”

The goblins led them to a secure wing of the bank. As they walked, Dean looked at the massive doors and intricate runes carved into the walls. “This feels like a prison for… something that shouldn’t be out.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Tharrok replied, without looking back. “And that’s why you’re here.”

In a separate room, deep within the bank, the ring was carefully laid out on a specially designed table. The brothers stared at the object, memories of Dana’s horcrux coming back to them.

Sam pointed at the ring. “It’s definitely a Horcrux. It feels… the same as it did with Dana. But this one is more active. Like it’s trying to reach something or someone.” Dean leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the ring. “So, how do we get rid of this? Because let’s face it, just putting it in a vault isn’t going to solve anything.”

Tharrok nodded slowly. “That’s right. The curse and the soul fragments remain intact. We can keep it safe, but destroying it is another story.” Moody looked at them. “Do you know what it means that this ring is here?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Let me guess: it means Voldemort has put a piece of his soul in there, and at some point, he was planning on coming back.” Sam nodded. “That’s likely. But the real question is: how many of these things are still out there?”

Tharrok looked at them sharply. “You seem to know more than most about Horcruxes. How?” Sam exchanged a look with Dean before answering. “Because we’ve dealt with them before. A Horcrux was inside someone we care about. We’ve learned how dangerous these things are.”

The goblin looked at them with renewed interest. “Then you understand why this isn’t just an object. It’s an anchor, and it attracts… things.”

“Can we destroy it?” Sam asked, staring at the goblins. Tharrok grunted. “There are only a few ways to destroy a horcrux. And each of those methods requires something as powerful and magical as the curse itself.” Luckily, we the answer to your question is yes, we can destroy it.”

It took an hour to prepare everything. The brothers stood at the edge of the sealed chamber in Gringotts, along with Moody and the goblins. The tension in the air was almost palpable. On a raised platform, surrounded by protective runes and magical barriers, lay the ring, its sinister power palpable even from a distance.

A long-cloaked goblin with a sharp face, introduced as Korrash, stood in the center of the chamber. He was one of Gringotts’ most experienced cursebreakers. His eyes were fixed on the ring, and he held a staff covered in intricate engravings and runes.

Korrash turned to the group. “Fiendfyre is no ordinary magic. Not only will it destroy the ring, but it can also consume everything around it if not controlled properly. If you are to do it, you must follow exactly as I say.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Exactly what you say? That’s not exactly my strong suit.” Moody growled. “Hold still, Winchester. This is no joke.” Sam looked at the goblin and nodded. “What should we do?”

Korrash pointed to a circle drawn in runes on the floor. “Stay out of this area. If the flames are released, they can spread if not guided. This requires concentration.” Dean crossed his arms and looked at the glowing ring. “How do you know this works?”

Korrash looked at him, his gaze cold. “Because I’ve done it before. But if you have any doubts, feel free to try it yourself.” He turned his attention back to the ring and began a low, whispering incantation.

The runes on the floor began to glow, and a heat filled the room. Korrash raised his staff, and out of nowhere a dragon-shaped flame appeared. The flames twisted and squirmed as if they had a mind of their own, a monster of fiery power that seemed to come straight out of a nightmare.

The dragon of fire clawed at the ring. The curse around the ring resisted, radiating a dark, pulsating energy, but the flames of Fiendfyre were stronger. The flames enveloped the ring completely, and a hissing sound filled the room as the curse shattered. Dean backed away, his face twisted in heat. “Holy crap… what is that stuff?” Sam watched, fascinated. “It’s magic at its purest, most destructive form.”

After a few seconds, the flames collapsed, as if they had accomplished their purpose. Korrash lowered his staff and wiped the sweat from his brow. “It’s done.”

On the stone platform was no longer a ring, but a small, black stone with a symbol on it. The goblin looked at it, his brow furrowed. Moody stepped closer. “Why is that thing still there?”

Korrash looked at him intently. “Because the stone itself wasn’t part of the curse. It was the ring and the fragment of soul inside it that had to be destroyed. The stone… is something else.” Dean looked at the stone and sighed. “Great. Another mystery.” Sam looked at the goblin. “Is it safe to leave this here?” Korrash nodded slowly. “It’s harmless now. But what it really is, that’s for you to discover.”

Chapter Text

Dear Dad and Uncle Sam,

How are you all? I hope you’re eating well, because I can’t help you remember that chips aren’t a meal! Hogwarts is… incredible. Like Hagrid said, the Great Hall has a ceiling that looks like the night sky. It feels like I’m living in a dream.

I’m in Hufflepuff! It feels good to be around people who are kind and helpful. My house says we’re hardworking and loyal, so I hope to live up to that. There’s a girl called Hannah and a boy called Ernie who help me with everything new. They’re nice, but sometimes I just miss you.

Classes are hard, but exciting. Potions is really hard. My cauldron nearly exploded because I didn’t read the recipe properly. Professor Snape gave me such a stern look, I thought he was going to turn me into a frog! Herbology with Professor Sprout is fun, and she said I have a good eye for plants.

Have you guys had any adventures in London? Or discovered anything new? Let me know! I miss you.

Love,

Dana

***

Hey kiddo,

Dean here. Good to hear that Hogwarts is everything they say it is. The Great Hall sounds impressive, but I bet it still doesn’t compare to the bunker. Do they have rock music and hamburgers there? No? I thought so.

Hufflepuff, huh? Sounds like a good place for you. Hard work and loyalty are exactly who you are. And forget about Snape. If he ever scares you like that again, I’ll send Sam over to give a long, boring speech. That always works.

But seriously. We’ve discovered something. Sam wants to tell you the details, so here I go.

Dean

Dear Dana,

I’m so proud of you. It sounds like you’ve settled in well. Hufflepuff is a perfect fit for you. And don’t worry about Potions; making mistakes is part of it. If Snape is being difficult, but remember: he can be strict, but he’s a good teacher.

We found something interesting. When you left, an old ring came into our possession, with a strange symbol on it. We’ve discovered that it was a very dangerous object, but it’s been defused now. We still think it’s important.

We’ve spent a lot of time researching that symbol. It turns out it is part of something called ‘The Deathly Hallows’. It sounds dramatic, I know, but it has to do with very old magic. For now, it’s safely stored.

How are your lessons going? Send us a letter back soon.

Sam

***

Dear Dad and Uncle Sam,

Your letter made me laugh out loud. I think Hogwarts is a match for the bunker, you know. We have a magical staircase that keeps changing directions! But you're right: they don't have hamburgers here, so that's a bummer.

I'm glad you found something interesting, but be careful, okay? Stay safe, promise?

The lessons are getting a little easier now that I know what to expect. Herbology is still my favorite, but I want to learn potions properly, even if it's scary. I'll try my best, as you always say.

Write back soon!

Love,

Dana

***

It began during a regular Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Professor Quirrell paced nervously, his usual stuttering a little less noticeable than usual. Dana sat at the back with Hannah and Ernie, her Hufflepuff friends, as Quirrell told his usual tales of dark creatures.

“There are p-places in Hogwarts that are v-hidden,” Quirrell said suddenly, his eyes glittering as he looked around the classroom. “Places that hold… secrets.”

Dana’s ears pricked up; her curiosity piqued. Hannah whispered, “Does he mean the Forbidden Forest?”

Ernie frowned. “No, that’s just dangerous. He must mean something in the school.” Quirrell walked on, his tone almost challenging. “Only the smartest, the most curious, can find them. But be warned… some secrets are better kept hidden.”

His gaze lingered on Dana a little too long. She felt a shiver run down her spine, but the seed had been planted.

Later that week, Dana was called into Professor McGonagall’s office. The Gryffindor Head’s stern gaze softened slightly as she let Dana in. On a small table lay a beautifully gleaming cloak, which had an almost unreal sheen to it. “This,” McGonagall began solemnly, “was your father’s, James Potter. It is a… precious heirloom that he left to you. It is an Invisibility Cloak. Use it wisely.” Dana’s eyes widened at the glittering piece of cloth. “Thank you, Professor,” she whispered, running her fingers over the soft, almost ethereal fabric.

McGonagall smiled thinly. “And remember, Miss Potter, the rules of Hogwarts still apply. I hope you will not be tempted to use this… unwisely.” Dana nodded obediently, but her eyes were sparkling with curiosity.

On a cold October night, Dana lay in her bed, her mind still on Quirrell’s words. She had heard Hannah say that something magical happened when you reached the seventh-floor hallway and thought about exactly what you needed.

The idea wouldn’t leave her. With her Invisibility Cloak wrapped tightly around her, she quietly crept out of the dormitory and slipped through the halls of the castle. She knew what she did was against the rules, but being the daughter of a Marauder, she couldn’t help herself. It felt exciting and dangerous.

When she finally reached the hallway in question, she paused. She took a deep breath and thought I want to find a place where secrets are hidden.

To her surprise, a massive door appeared on the wall. Her breath caught as she opened it and entered a vast room, filled with rows and rows of mysterious objects. Every corner seemed filled with forgotten magic. She felt a kind of tingling in the air.

“Wow,” Dana whispered as she walked around.

Chapter Text

Amidst all the dust and chaos, her eyes fell on a shiny object high up in a pile. She carefully climbed up and discovered a silver tiara with an inscription engraved on it: Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure.

She picked it up carefully, enchanted by its beauty. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered to herself. A strange desire to put it on came over her. The silver gleamed even in the dim light of the room, and the inscription seemed to pulse with a strange force. Her fingers caressed its surface, and a soft whisper seemed to call her name.

“What harm could it do?” she whispered to herself as if to push away the uncertainty. She carefully picked up the tiara and held it at eye level. It was the most beautiful object she had ever seen. A sudden urge filled her heart: she had to wear it.

Without further hesitation, she placed the tiara on her head. As soon as the tiara touched her head, she felt an icy chill run through her entire body. Her vision blurred, and the room seemed to spin. A deep voice filled her mind.

"Finally," the voice whispered, powerful and possessive. "You have found me, child." Dana gasped, her hands moving to pull the tiara off, but it seemed stuck. The voice continued, louder now: "You have potential... power. They underestimate you, but I... I see what you can become."

The room changed. Instead of the dusty warehouse full of ancient objects, she suddenly seemed to be standing in a dark, endless space. A silhouette appeared before her, vague but menacing. It looked like a man, with a serpentine glint in his eyes.

"Who are you?" Dana stammered, her voice trembling.

"I am the one who can make you what you are meant to be. Tell me who you are."

Dana felt her legs tremble, and her breathing quickened. The voice became more urgent, her thoughts began to fade, as if they were no longer her own. But another part of her, small but powerful, fought back. "No," she whispered at first. Then louder: "No! Go away!"

A sudden invisible force shot through her. The tiara began to glow, and a sudden, all-encompassing pain shot through her head. The power exploded from the tiara, and a shockwave went through the room.

Dana was thrown backward, her head banging against a pile of books. The tiara fell from her head and slid several feet away, its shine gone, as if the power within it had been temporarily drained. She gasped and trembled with fear. The voice was gone, but the aftermath felt as if something had been torn loose inside her. Her hands clutched her chest, and she felt tears rolling down her cheeks.

Suddenly, the room began to close. It was as if the magic of the Room of Requirement itself had recognized an evil presence and was now trying to force her out. The door that had given her access began to slowly disappear.

Dana jumped to her feet, her legs shaking, and grabbed her Invisibility Cloak. She took one last look at the tiara, but her instincts screamed at her to run. She stormed toward the exit.

The door was almost closed when she slipped through, her heart pounding like a hammer. Dana ran through the dark corridors of Hogwarts, her heart pounding in her throat. Her feet echoed on the stone floor, and she clutched the Invisibility Cloak tightly to her chest. She had to get back to the dormitory before someone caught her. But just as she turned the corner, she ran headlong into a tall, dark figure.

A cold voice cut through the silence. “Miss… Potter.” Dana looked up and met the intense gaze of Professor Snape. His dark eyes pierced through her, as if he could see every secret in her mind.

“What,” he began slowly, “are you doing outside your dormitory in the middle of the night? And why,” his gaze slid to the cloak in her hands, “are you so nervous?” Dana’s throat felt dry. She knew she couldn’t devise a plausible excuse, but telling the truth felt just as frightening. “I… I just wanted to look around,” she stammered.

Snape’s eyebrow shot up. “Look around?” His tone was sharp and sarcasm-laden. “That seems like a particularly bad idea for someone of your background, Miss Potter. I don’t think looking around has done you much good before.” Dana felt her face turn red.

“Professor, I - ”

He raised a hand, interrupting her. “No excuses. You tell me exactly what you were doing, or I’ll take you straight to the Headmaster’s office.”

Dana took a deep breath, her voice shaking. “I heard… something about a secret chamber. And I thought… I just wanted to look.”

Snape’s gaze sharpened. “A secret chamber,” he repeated with a mixture of interest and irritation. “And how did you gain access to this… chamber?”

Dana hesitated, but when she felt his gaze, she gave up. “The room appeared… on the seventh floor. I thought about finding secrets. And he was just there.”

Snape paused, his gaze intense. He stepped closer, his gaze scanning her face for signs of lies. Finally, he nodded slowly. “And what did you find?”

Dana felt her breath catch. “There was… a tiara. It just seemed like a pretty thing, but when I put it on…” She stopped, her hands shaking.

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “And?”

“It felt like something was trying to… get inside my head. I could hear a voice. It was scary, Professor,” she whispered, tears now rolling down her cheeks.

Snape sighed, and for a moment, he seemed less harsh. He placed a hand on her shoulder, surprisingly light, and looked at her intently. “Miss Potter, do you have any idea how dangerous this was? How stupid was that?”

Dana nodded quickly, tears glistening in her eyes. “I… I didn’t know, but now I do.”

“Ignorance is no excuse,” Snape said sternly. “But it is my job to protect you, despite yourself.”

He looked at her for a moment longer, then said, “You will speak to the Headmaster first thing tomorrow. And until then, stay away from hidden rooms, tiaras, and whatever else you can think of.”

Dana walked beside him, her head low. Snape walked with long strides and didn’t look back, but his presence was enough to make her feel safe, despite her fear. He stopped at the entrance to the Hufflepuff dormitory. “You need to think more carefully about your actions, Miss Potter. The world is dangerous, and you are already vulnerable.”

Dana looked up. “I’m sorry, Professor.”

Snape nodded briefly. “Good. Now to bed.” She disappeared into the dormitory, leaving Snape in the hallway, the cloak in his hands and a deep frown on his face.

This could not wait until morning. Seeing it was past 1 A.M., Snape decided to go to Albus right this minute. The Headmaster was a night owl anyway. Snape's cloak fluttered behind him as he stepped into Albus's office, his face set with irritation and concern. Albus looked up from his desk, his hands folded. "Miss Potter put herself in great danger just now," Snape began sharply. He quickly recounted the encounter with Dana, her story about the Room of Requirement, and the presence of the tiara.

Albus listened intently, his blue eyes narrowed. "The Room of Requirement... And a tiara, you say? This sounds worrying."

Snape's gaze darkened. "Worrying is an understatement. I suggest we go and take a look right away."

Within minutes, they were on the seventh floor, where Albus activated the room with a few focused thoughts. The door slowly appeared, and as they stepped inside, a strange energy filled the air. Snape's gaze immediately fell on the tiara, lying on the floor where Dana had dropped it. Albus bent down and carefully lifted it using a levitation charm. His face stiffened. “This is more than worrying, Severus. This is a Horcrux.”

That same night, Albus wrote a letter to Dean:

Mr. Winchester,

Your daughter took a serious risk last night. She wandered around the castle after curfew and found a magical object that was directly connected to Voldemort. She touched it, and the soul fragment tried to possess her. She has managed to escape his clutches and flee. Although she is safe, I feel that you should be aware of her actions and the situation.

Regards,

Albus Dumbledore

He sent the letter with an owl. By the time Dean read it, it was morning in London.

Chapter Text

Dean sat at the kitchen table in the London house, Albus's letter in his hands. His face was set, a dark rage boiling in his eyes. Sam stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. "What does that letter say?" he asked cautiously, seeing his brother's fury.

Dean glanced at him and suddenly stood up, pushing his chair back with a creaking sound. "She was in danger, Sam. She snuck through that castle in the middle of the night and nearly got herself killed!"

Before Sam could say anything, Dean grabbed a handful of Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace. "Hogwarts. Dumbledore's office!" he shouted. In an instant, he was gone in the green flames. Sam licked up the letter Dean left on the table.

Snape had collected Dana from her dormitory that morning and accompanied her to the Headmaster’s office. Dana had barely slept for the remainder of the night. The events kept playing in her head and she knew that the Headmaster would tell her dad. When she came into Dumbledore’s office, he looked at her with a kind smile and told her to sit down. He was about to talk to her when Dean stepped out of the fireplace with a fierce look on his face. Snape stood beside Albus, his arms tightly crossed, while Dana sat huddled in a chair, her face pale and her hands trembling in her lap.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Dean bellowed as soon as he saw her. His voice echoed through the room, sharp and full of emotion. He strode toward her. Dana cringed, her eyes wide with fear. Her whole body trembled, and she instinctively tried to make herself smaller in the chair. “I-I… I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice barely audible.

Dean’s voice rose even higher. “You’re sorry?! You just went out in the middle of the night, to wander around in this place, and you thought it would be okay?!” Dana’s breathing quickened, and her gaze went frantically to Snape and Albus as if she were hoping someone would intervene. Her lip began to quiver, and her hands gripped the edge of the chair so hard that her knuckles turned white.

Snape stepped forward, his voice low and sharp. “Mr. Winchester, calm down immediately.” Dean whirled around to face him. “Calm down? Fuck off! She put herself in danger!”

“And your screaming doesn’t make it any better,” Snape replied icily. His gaze slid to Dana, who was now visibly fighting back tears. “This girl has been through enough. Your anger won’t help her.” Dean swallowed audibly, and his gaze softened slightly as he looked at Dana. Her eyes were wide and wet, and she seemed smaller than ever in that chair.

“I didn’t know… I just thought…” Dana finally sobbed. Her voice broke, and she looked at Dean as if waiting for the punishment that would follow. Dean walked over to the chair she was sitting on and knelt before her slowly, his anger gone, replaced by regret and pain.

He reached for her, but she instinctively pulled away. The gesture broke his heart. “Kiddo,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m sorry I screamed like that. But understand me: I was scared. I thought I might lose you.”

Sam came through the fireplace in a more relaxing way and looked at the scene in front of him. Dana was obviously afraid of Dean, who could be scary when he was angry. He heard what Dean had said last and looked over at Snape and Albus. Taking a deep breath, he nodded at the two men and walked over to his brother and niece.

Dana looked at Dean and Sam, with wide eyes, her tears now streaming. She cringed when Sam came near, and he cursed inwardly. Damn it, Dean!

Sam knelt down next to Dana, making sure he was at her eye level and not too close. His tone was soft, almost a whisper. “Hey, kiddo. It’s okay. No one’s mad anymore, and you’re safe. Dean was just freaked out, that’s all.”

He shot a quick, sharp look at Dean, who didn’t miss the reproach in Sam’s eyes. Sam turned back to Dana. “You know, Dean and I… we worry about you all the time. Because we care about you. But sometimes, especially Dean, we’re not very good at showing it in the right way.”

Dana’s lip trembled as she listened to Sam. “He screamed… so loud.” Sam nodded in understanding, his eyes soft and reassuring. “Yes, he did. And I know that can be scary. But he did it because he was scared. Scared that something would happen to you.”

Dana looked slowly at Dean, who looked lost, like he didn’t know what to say or do. Sam noticed it too and gently tapped her hand. “You know how big and strong Dean is, right?” Dana nodded carefully. “But you know what?” Sam continued with a small smile. “He’s a little scared of you, too.”

Dana frowned, confused. “Of me?” Sam nodded, his voice a little lighter now. “Yeah. Because you mean so much to him. The idea that something could happen to you scares him. And when people are scared, sometimes they make mistakes. Just like Dean did.”

Dean looked up, clearly moved by Sam’s words. He carefully came closer, his voice fragile. “He’s right, kiddo. I was scared. And I didn’t react the way I should have. But you must know… I would never hurt you. Never.”

Dana looked between them, her tears still falling, but her posture seemed to soften a little. “Really?” Sam smiled at her. “Really. And you know what I think? I think Dean feels really bad about this. Right, Dean?”

Dean nodded immediately. “More than you can imagine, sweetheart. I would do anything to make this right.” Sam slowly stood up and gave Dean a little push in the back. “Maybe you should show her that.”

Dean carefully got even closer to Dana and opened his arms, without saying a word. It took a few seconds, but finally, Dana stepped towards him. Her movements were hesitant, but once she was in his arms, she broke. Dean held her tightly, her small body trembling against his.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ll do my best to be better. You deserve better.” Sam watched the scene, feeling a mix of relief and sadness. He turned to Albus and Snape, who were watching in silence. “I think we should give them some time alone.”

Albus smiled subtly at Sam's request, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "Of course, Mr. Winchester. Sometimes restoring a bond requires a moment of privacy."

Snape looked at the brothers and Dana with his usual stern gaze. "Make sure she focuses on her schoolwork. This is a school, not a playground," he said sharply. But there was a hint of softness in his voice that betrayed his understanding, too. He glanced at Albus and nodded briefly. "I will inform the staff that your presence on the grounds has been temporarily approved."

Albus nodded. "An excellent suggestion, Severus. Mr. Winchester," he looked at Sam and Dean, "you are welcome to stay today. I am sure Dana will be happy to show you around our school. It is Saturday, after all, a day of relaxation for our students."

Dana's face brightened when Dean and Sam asked her to show them around. She led them first to the Great Hall, where a few more students were enjoying their breakfast. Her excitement slowly broke through her earlier fear. “This is where we eat,” she said proudly, pointing to the ceiling that reflected the clear blue sky. “And that’s the enchanted ceiling. It shows what’s happening outside.”

Dean looked up and whistled in admiration. “Not bad. But what if it rains? Will you get wet?” Dana giggled. “No, Dad. It’s just an illusion.”

The Winchesters’ presence did not go unnoticed. As they walked through the halls, students looked curiously at the tall men who were not dressed in robes. A group of Hufflepuff students whispered animatedly as Dean stepped aside to make room for a small boy carrying a stack of books.

“Are they Dana’s family?” Sam heard someone mumble. “I heard they’re Muggles.”

“They look tough,” said another. “And that one in the leather jacket… he looks like he could slay a dragon.” Dean caught the remarks and grinned at Sam. “Cool, huh? Finally someone with taste.” Sam shook his head, laughing. “Focus, Dean.”

Dana led them to the library, where Sam was immediately in his element. He gazed admiringly at the tall shelves filled with magical books. Madam Pince, the librarian, shot Dean a sharp look as he leaned casually against a bookcase. “No clutter in my library, young man,” she snapped.

Dana giggled softly and pulled Dean along to the next destination: the dungeons. Snape appeared unexpectedly and looked at them with a disapproving look. “I hope you continue your tour in silence. Some of the students are making their homework.” Dean mumbled something about “creepy basements,” but didn’t comment further on Snape.

At the Quidditch field, a group of Gryffindors stopped to greet them. Fred and George Weasley, always up for a joke, called out, “Look at you, Dana’s cool family! Want to fly around?”

Dean eyed the broomsticks suspiciously. “No way. I only fly when I have to.” Fred grinned broadly. “Wimp.” Sam held back his laughter and pulled Dana along. “Come on, we’ve got more to see.”

They ended the tour at the lake, where Dana stood still for a moment, staring at the still water. Dean put a hand on her shoulder. “Not bad, kiddo. This is an impressive place.” Sam smiled at her. “And a good guide makes it even better.”

Dana’s face beamed. “Thanks. I enjoyed showing you all around.”

***

The Great Hall was a lively scene. Floating candles lit the room, while golden plates of food appeared on the long tables. The smell of roast chicken, freshly baked bread, and warm pies filled the air.

Dana proudly walked over to the Hufflepuff table, where her friends were curiously looking at her family. “This is my dad and my uncle Sam,” she said proudly, as she led them to the table. Sam smiled kindly at the students as he sat down next to Dana. He was immediately greeted warmly by a few curious students. “What does a muggle do for a living?” a little girl asked.

Sam patiently explained what an investigator was, though he didn’t give many details about their specific hunting activities. Dana watched proudly as her housemates were impressed by her uncle.

Dean, on the other hand, watched the bustle at the Gryffindor table, where Fred and George were already grinning broadly at him. “Come on, big man!” Fred shouted. “Show me what you’ve got.” Dean raised an eyebrow and muttered to Sam, “Why do I feel like I’m getting in trouble?”

Sam grinned. “Because you probably are.” Dean sighed but walked over to the Gryffindor table. Fred patted him enthusiastically on the back and George pulled out a chair. “So, Dean, tell us: what’s your secret? How do you keep yourself so… uh, alive without magic?”

Dean grinned and leaned back. “Working hard, being smart, and always having a plan B.” George laughed. “And a gun, right?”

“Always,” Dean said dryly, making Fred and George laugh even harder. ‘But if you are Muggles, how can you see Hogwarts?” Hermione asked confused. Dean looked at the girl with the wide mane of curls. “When we adopted Dana, the goblin said we became Squibs.” He shrugged but Hermione’s eyes widened at that piece of information, and she muttered something about the library, before taking off. Dean looked confused, both the twins assured him this was normal behavior.

By now, Sam was feeling more comfortable around the Hufflepuffs. One of the older students asked him about his travels, and Sam cautiously told them about some of their “research missions.” Dana watched with a big smile, happy that her family was being well received.

When dessert arrived, Dana decided to stand up and walk over to Dean. “Dad, are you coming to our table?” Dean looked at her, his eyes softening. “Sure, kiddo.” He stood up and followed her, as Fred and George protested. “Hey, you can’t just walk away!” Dean grinned at them. “I have more important people to spend time with.”

At the Hufflepuff table, Sam and Dana sat next to each other, and Dean took the chair on the other side of Dana. She looked up at her father and smiled. “Did you like it at the Gryffindors?” Dean hummed, taking a piece of cake. “They’re… loud. But okay.”

The Great Hall became silent as one of the Slytherins, Draco Malfoy walked up to the Hufflepuff table with a certain grace, his blond hair perfectly styled and his grey eyes searching. He held his hands behind his back and looked at Dean and Sam as if he were analyzing them.

“Excuse me,” he began, his voice polite but with a slightly self-conscious tone. “I heard you’re… muggles?” He said the word with less disapproval than one might expect, more of a statement. Dean leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. What’s your point, kid?”

Draco pulled out a chair and sat down, much to the surprise of the entire student body and teachers. He ignored them completely, however, and turned his attention to the brothers. “I’ve heard muggles have… some interesting weapons. Things that explode. Is that true?”

Sam chuckled softly. “That’s right. But those aren’t exactly things you play with.” Draco’s eyes twinkled with curiosity. “And how does that work? How do you defend yourself without magic? You must be completely vulnerable without a wand, right?”

Dean leaned forward, a smile that was half amusement, half challenge. “You’d think so, but we’re not. We’ve spent our whole lives learning how to survive without magic. Sometimes being smart is more important than being strong. You don’t need spells if you know how to improvise.”

Draco looked at him with genuine interest. “Improvise?” He said the word slowly as if it were an exotic concept. “I assume that means thinking fast.” Sam nodded. “Exactly. It’s about using your surroundings and always thinking one step ahead.”

Draco looked between the brothers and said something no one at the table expected. “That sounds… admirable.” He turned his gaze to Dana. “You have an interesting family, Potter. Different from most people here.” Dana smiled cautiously and looked at Sam and Dean, who seemed equally surprised by Draco's comment. Dean nodded approvingly. Draco bid them goodbye and walked back to his own table, where his classmates seemed to ask him several questions.

After dinner, as the Great Hall emptied, Professor McGonagall appeared at the table where Dean, Sam, and Dana were sitting. Her stern gaze softened as she looked at Dana. “Mrs. Potter, would you like to come with me? I have a comfortable spot for you to rest for a while.”

Dana looked questioningly at Sam and Dean, but eventually nodded. “Okay, Professor.” Dean stood up to hug her. “Behave, kiddo. We’ll see you later.”

McGonagall nodded formally to the brothers and escorted Dana out of the hall. As soon as they were out of sight, Albus appeared at the head of the table. His usual friendly gaze was a little more serious than usual, but not unfriendly. He beckoned the brothers to follow him. Once inside his office, surrounded by moving portraits and the soft tapping of instruments on his desk, Albus turned to Sam and Dean. His eyes met Dean’s and lingered for a moment.

“Gentlemen,” he began, “I want to apologize first. The invisibility cloak that Dana used… that was mine. I gave it to Minerva with the instruction that she was to hand it over to Dana.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you gave my daughter…an eleven-year-old…a magical sheet that could make her invisible? What did you think would happen?”

Albus sighed and raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “I thought it would help her feel more comfortable. However, I misjudged its effects. For that misunderstanding, I sincerely apologize.” He took the cloak out of one of his desk drawers and handed it over.

Sam looked at Dean for a moment and nodded subtly. “It’s good that you admitted it,” he said calmly. “But make sure that something like that doesn’t happen again. Dana’s safety is the most important thing.” He took the cloak from Albus and felt the smooth material.

“I understand,” Albus replied, his tone serious. He turned back to Dean. “I was wondering if you would like to be present for the destruction of the tiara Dana found.”

***

Dean and Sam stood with Albus in a deep, hidden chamber beneath Hogwarts. The walls were made of black basalt, and the air was charged with energy. In the middle of the chamber was a raised platform, on which the tiara rested, surrounded by a protective barrier of magical runes.

Albus looked at the brothers with a serious look. “As you by now know, a Horcrux is one of the darkest forms of magic ever created. Destroying it requires a force that is just as destructive.”

“Fiendfyre, right?” Sam asked, searching his eyes. Albus nodded. “Correct. But Fiendfyre is unstable and difficult to control. It can destroy not only the Horcrux but also the one who casts it if done incorrectly.” Dean narrowed his eyes at the tiara. “So why do we use it?”

“There is no alternative available right now,” Albus replied. He pointed his wand at the barrier and spoke an incantation, causing the runes to glow. “I would ask that you remain behind the protective lines, however.”

Sam and Dean stepped back as Albus prepared himself. His wand moved in intricate patterns, and he cast the spell. A gigantic phoenix of fiery flames shot from the tip of his wand and coiled toward the tiara. The room was filled with a deafening roar as if the flames had a life of their own, just like in the bank.

The tiara glowed brightly, a shrill, ominous scream echoing through the room as the part of Voldemort’s soul was attacked. Dean instinctively reached for his pistol, knowing it would be useless.

Suddenly, a dark shadow flashed above the tiara, like a final defense mechanism for the Horcrux. Sam shouted a warning, but Albus stood his ground, his wand pointed firmly. The flames swallowed the shadow, and with a final crack, the room fell silent. The tiara was gone. Only a pile of ash remained on the platform.

Albus sank to his knees for a moment, visibly exhausted, but he quickly recovered. Sam helped him get back up. Albus smiled weakly. “It’s over.” Dean looked at the ashes and nodded slowly. “For this one. But how many more are there?” Albus’ smile faded, and he looked at them seriously. “That’s the question, isn’t it? But today we won a small victory.”

Just as Albus was clearing the last of the runes from the floor and the brothers were preparing to leave, an icy chill filled the room. A familiar sarcastic voice sounded from the shadows. “Ah, I just made it in time to miss the show,” Crowley said, casually stepping out. He glanced at the pile of ash on the platform. “Fiendfyre, Albus? A classic choice, but a tad predictable.”

Dean stepped forward immediately, his eyes narrowed. “What do you want, Crowley? And how in hell do you know each other?” Crowley raised his hands, feigning innocence. “Take it easy, Squirrel. I come in peace. I have a gift.” He didn’t answer the question about how he knew Albus.

Sam raised an eyebrow. “A gift? You never give anything without reason.” Crowley grinned broadly. “True. But this is different. Your girl has a connection to one of the oldest bloodlines in existence. The Peverell’s. And that means that maybe, she can do something special.”

Dana, meanwhile, had been led into the room by Minerva, at Albus’ request, to reunite her with Dean and Sam. When she saw Crowley, she automatically moved a little closer to Sam, her eyes alert. She knew him, she had turned his hair blue that one time, but the demon radiated evil, and she shivered slightly. Sam put his hand on her shoulders and noticed how Dean's eyes flashed in hurt, seeing Dana choose Sam over him.

Crowley looked at her and smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, girl. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just testing something.” Dean stepped forward. “Not a chance, Crowley. She’s been through enough.”

Crowley gave Dean a look, cocked his head, waved his hand, and the room seemed to darken for a moment. A menacing growl filled the room, followed by the heavy sound of claws on the stone floor. Dana froze, her eyes wide as she looked around. Dean and Sam cursed, knowing what it was. “Son of a bitch!” Dean swore reaching for his gun.

“There,” Dana said softly, pointing to a corner of the room. “There’s… something.” Dean pointed the gun in that direction, while Sam stepped closer to Dana protectively. Albus remained calm, wand still out, but his eyes followed Dana’s gaze intently.

Crowley clapped his hands. “Well spotted, my dear. That is a Hellhound. A powerful beast that usually only I and my kind, or damned souls can see. But you… you are special.” Dana looked at Crowley, her voice shaking. “Why can I see him?”

Crowley smiled. “Because you are a descendant of the Peverell’s. Only a few of your line have this ability. But I am not here to frighten you. In fact, I think you could use an ally.”

With a snap of his fingers, the Hellhound became visible to everyone. The large, black beast had sharp ears and a glossy coat reminiscent of a Doberman. His fierce, red eyes were alert, but he made no threatening movements.

Dana’s fear seemed to melt into curiosity for a moment. “He looks like a normal dog…” Crowley nodded. “A normal dog, but stronger, faster, and more loyal. He will protect you from anything and anyone. And, to make things even easier…” He snapped his fingers again. The Hellhound seemed to flicker and disappear.

“What… what happened?” Dana asked, surprised. “He’s invisible now,” Crowley explained. “But you can make him visible on command. Try it. Call him. His name is Shadow.”

Dana looked doubtfully at Dean, who gave her a brief nod, though his face was tense with tension. “Okay,” she said softly. She turned to where the Hellhound had just stood. “Shadow, come out.”

Instantly the beast reappeared, its red eyes fixed on Dana. It sat down, its posture relaxed but alert. Dana smiled cautiously and looked at Crowley. “May I pet him?” she asked. Crowley grinned at Dean's furious expression before saying yes.

Dana walked over to the massive dog as the adults in the room held their breath, part form Crowley. She extended her hand, and the dog snuffed it. She proceeded to stroke its head gently. The Hellhound made a soft, almost contented sound and there was a deep bloodred mist surrounding the dog and the girl.

Albus gasped. “The hellhound has accepted Dana as his. He is her familiar now.” Sam looked confused. “I’m sorry, her what?” Albus lowered his wand. “A familiar is an animal that chooses a witch or wizard. They become bonded for life. Even if you refuse this dog to stay with her, the dog will remain with her, as she is the most important thing in his world right now.”

Dean remained on guard, his gaze fixed on Shadow. “That thing may be a familiar, but it’s still dangerous, Crowley.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Please, so he dragged you to hell once. Mutt was under orders. The only danger he poses is to those who would harm the girl. Albus is right, he won’t even obey me anymore now.”

Dean kept his eyes fixed on Shadow, his hand still holding his weapon. He longed to shoot the mut, even more now he knew that this thing once mauled him to death. Sam, sensing the tension, placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, listen. If what Albus and Crowley say is true, then Shadow isn’t just a hellhound. He’s part of Dana’s protection. Maybe we should accept this. Dean snorted. “Agree to have a hellhound as a pet? Seriously, Sam?”

Dana turned slowly, her hand still resting on Shadow’s massive head. Her large, innocent eyes met Dean’s. “Daddy,” she said softly. “He’s sweet. He wants to protect me, just like you and Uncle Sam do.” Dean sighed deeply, his hard gaze softening a fraction at her gaze. “Kiddo, it’s not that I don’t want to protect you. It’s just… that thing comes from a place you never want to be.” Dana nodded slowly. “But it’s like I knew him all my life, Dad. It feels like I love him.”

Crowley gave Dean a knowing look. “Look at her, Dean. Do you really think you can send him away? Shadow chose her. You, of all people, should understand how loyalty works.”

Dean stared at Shadow for a few more seconds, who remained still, his red eyes seemingly calming in Dana’s presence. Finally, Dean sighed deeply and nodded. “Okay. But one thing, Crowley.” He stepped closer and looked the demon straight in the eye. “If that thing ever sinks its teeth into someone for no reason, and I mean it, just once, he’s gone.”

Crowley smiled, delighted at the success. “Dean Winchester, always so dramatic. But rest assured, Shadow knows the difference between friend and foe.” Sam looked at Dana and smiled. “Dana, if he’s truly yours, then we’ll accept him. But you have to take good care of him, okay?” Dana nodded enthusiastically and turned back to Shadow, her hand still on his head. “I promise, Uncle Sam.”

Shadow gave a low, almost approving grunt, as if he understood the words. Dean rolled his eyes and muttered something about “this will be something,” as Dana sat down next to Shadow, her face full of confidence.

Albus, who had been watching the scene with a mixture of fascination and respect, stepped forward. “A hellhound as a familiar is rare, but not unheard of. Merlin himself had a Thestral for a familiar, legend says. I believe he could be a great asset in the times ahead.” Dean looked at him sharply. “I hope you’re right.”

Chapter Text

The night air was filled with the scent of wet grass and trees. Dana walked between Dean and Sam, while Albus walked quietly beside them. The fences of Hogwarts towered above them, an imposing boundary that protected the school. Dean looked at the tall, wrought iron gates. “My, you do take security seriously, don’t you?”

Albus smiled. “A necessary measure, Mr. Winchester. This school has needed protection more than once.” Dana walked beside Shadow, who walked next to her like the dark shadow he was. His red eyes gleamed in the soft moonlight. Suddenly, the hellhound stopped abruptly, his ears perked up, and a low growl rolled from his throat. Dean’s hand automatically slid to his weapon. “What’s wrong with the mutt?”

Shadow’s gaze darted to the edge of the forest, where a shadowy figure stood just out of sight. It was as if the dog had smelled the scent of danger. Before anyone could say anything, Shadow leaped forward and sprinted in a straight line toward the figure now entering the Forbidden Forest.

“Shadow!” Dana cried in panic, taking a step forward. Dean held her back firmly. “Stay here, Dana.” Albus stared at the spot where Shadow had disappeared. His face twisted.

He raised his wand and spoke in a calm but urgent voice, “Expecto Patronum.” A brilliant phoenix appeared, radiating a warm glow, and Albus spoke, “Minerva, Severus, please join me at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.” The phoenix flew toward the castle. He created another Patronus and sent for Pomona Sprout, Dana’s Head of House.

“Pomona will come here to wait with Dana.”

 Dana’s lip trembled. “But Shadow is there alone. I have to help him.”

Dean crouched down before her, his gaze determined. “No, Dana. We’re going. You stay here where it’s safe. Trust me, we’ll get him back.”

Pomona Sprout arrived shortly after; her kind face filled with concern. She gently led Dana away, Dana glancing over her shoulder in the direction Shadow had disappeared.

Sam, Dean, and Albus ran over to the edge of the dark, winding forest. The trees seemed to enclose them, their branches reaching out like arms. Minerva and Snape joined them, each alert and ready for what lay ahead. They went in, wands and guns at the ready.

They followed the sound of Shadow’s growls, echoing through the trees. Eventually, they reached a clearing where a beautiful unicorn lay on the ground, dead. A silvery substance dripped from a wound on his neck. Sam thought it was the most beautiful animal he had ever seen. The figure with the dark hood stood above it, his face half hidden by a hood.

“You, who are you?” Albus spoke in a cool, menacing tone. “What are you doing here?” The figure turned slowly, his eyes gleaming with a strange, icy glare. “Dumbledore,” he said in a mocking voice. “Always in the right place at the wrong time.”

Albus recognized the voice. “Quirinus?” An incantation was spoken by the man with the hood and a barrier was drawn around him and the unicorn.

Shadow let out a low growl and circled the barrier. Dean fired a shot, but it bounced off the same barrier. “You fools!” hissed another sinister voice, coming from the back of Quirrell’s head.

Sam looked shocked. “What on earth…?”

Albus answered without looking away. “That’s not Professor Quirrell anymore. That’s Voldemort.”

Albus stepped forward, his wand raised. “Tom,” he said calmly, but sternly. “Enough is enough. Leave the unicorn alone.”

The voice laughed, cold and hollow. “Always so noble, Dumbledore. But you understand nothing of strength. And I will regain my strength, starting with this unicorn. And then I shall claim the child”

Dean let out a holler of fury and wanted to storm the man before him, but he could not reach him. Voldemort merely laughed at him. “Stupid muggle. You are no match for me!”

Dean, frustrated by the barrier, looked at Albus. “Can you break this or not?” he snarled. Albus raised his wand and cast a powerful spell. The air seemed to tear as his magic collided with the barrier. “I can do it, but it’ll take time.”

Undeterred by the barrier, Shadow circled the edge, growling and barking. His red eyes were fierce and focused on Quirrell. Suddenly, he stepped back, tensed his muscles, and jumped. The hellhound struck the barrier with all its force, and to everyone’s surprise, a crack appeared.

“Jesus, that thing is strong,” Dean muttered. Quirrell turned to Shadow and threw a spell in his direction. A flash of green light struck the hellhound, but Shadow countered the attack with a deafening growl. He jumped again, and this time the barrier burst completely.

With the barrier gone, Shadow charged at Quirrell, who backed away and raised his wand. A stream of fiery serpents sprang from the tip of his staff, coiling toward Shadow. Albus waved his own wand, sending a shield of light forward, dissolving the snakes into smoke.

Dean and Sam rushed forward, while Minerva and Snape came to stand beside Albus. Quirrell fired spell after spell, but he was overwhelmed by the combination of magic and Shadow’s physical threat.

Suddenly, Quirrell stopped moving. His body stiffened, and his eyes rolled back. A dark, hissing mist began to pour from his back. Voldemort’s voice rang out, full of hate. “This isn’t over yet, Dumbledore. You have no idea what you’ve unleashed.” The dark mist shot into the air and disappeared into the shadows of the forest. Quirrell collapsed to the ground, his face pale and hollow. He was unconscious. Snape sneered at the man. “No wonder he wanted to teach defense so badly.”

Shadow continued to growl over Quirrell, but Dean gave a short whistle. “Come on, boy. He’s no threat anymore.” The hellhound looked at Dean, gave a short, approving bark, and then sat down next to him as if his task had been accomplished.

Albus looked at Quirrell, his face serious. “He will be harmless right now. But this is a clear warning. Voldemort is weaker than ever, but he is still there.” Dean nodded slowly, his gaze on Shadow. “We may have driven him away, but this is far from over.”

The group moved quickly through the forest, the dusk giving way to the illuminated towers of Hogwarts in the distance. Quirrell, unconscious and paler than ever, was being levitated by Snape. His dark cloak fluttered in the night wind as he said nothing, his face tight with concentration.

Dean looked at Shadow, who was now walking quietly beside him. The hellhound seemed calm, but his red eyes were constantly scanning the area as if he could spring back into action at any moment.

“The mutt was impressive,” Dean muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. Albus smiled softly. “He is more than impressive, Mr. Winchester. He is completely unharmed by the Killing Curse that Voldemort used.”

Sam, walking beside Dana’s cloak that Shadow carried, looked at his brother. “You have to admit, Dean, he has helped us more than we expected.” Dean grunted something unintelligible, but his face was relaxed, a sign of acceptance.

At the entrance to Hogwarts, Pomona Sprout stood waiting with Dana at her side. The young witch watched the approaching group with great anticipation. Her gaze was focused on Shadow, who walked over to her without hesitation and sat down next to her, pushing his head against her hand.

“Shadow!” Dana cried out in relief as she hugged him. He let out a soft growl, a sound that sounded surprisingly like a purring animal. Dean and Sam stepped forward. Dean crouched down in front of Dana and looked her straight in the eye. “Kiddo, that dog of yours… he helped us.” Dana’s eyes began to twinkle. “So… he can stay?”

Dean sighed deeply but nodded with a small smile. “Yes, he can stay.”

Snape glanced at Albus. “I’m taking him to the medical wing,” he said curtly, and without further explanation, he and Quirrell headed toward the castle. Minerva watched them go with a stern gaze, before rejoining the group.

“Albus,” Dean began as he stood up, “whatever happened in that forest… it’s clear that Voldemort is still active. We’re going to have to pay more attention to this.”

Albus nodded, his face serious. “I agree with you. But right now, Dana must stay safe. Hogwarts will do everything in its power to ensure that.”

It was time for Dean and Sam to go. They had walked back to the Headmaster’s office to use the Floo. Dana held Shadow’s collar, her gaze sad as she looked at her uncle and father. “Do you have to go?” she asked softly.

Sam crouched down beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “We’re never far away, kiddo. And if there’s anything, anything at all, let us know.” Dean gave her a quick hug. “We’ll be back soon. And Shadow will be watching you closely here. Right, boy?”

The hellhound gave a small grunt of approval and nudged his head against Dana’s hand. Pomona watched and smiled at the scene. “Don’t worry, gentlemen. She’s in good hands here.”

Sam went through the green flames first, Dean followed after hugging Dana. “Love you,” he mumbled.

***

After everything that had happened, one thing was clear. There was no longer a DADA teacher. The late afternoon sun shone through the tall windows of Albus's office, where the sound of a silver machine ticking softly broke the silence. Albus Dumbledore stood at his desk, his long fingers resting on the back of his chair. His expression was calm as usual, but there was a glint of mild concern in his blue eyes.

On the other side of the desk stood Severus Snape, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his face a mask of impatience. "I assume you realize, Headmaster, that this is a rather... impractical solution."

Albus looked up, the corners of his mouth curling slightly upwards. "Impractical? Ah, Severus, I just thought it would be a good opportunity to teach our students in a variety of ways."

Snape's gaze sharpened. "With all due respect, Headmaster, my lessons follow a strict curriculum. I fail to see how it would be helpful for you to teach in your usual... philosophical style lessons that have nothing to do with defensive techniques."

Dumbledore smiled softly and sat down, his hands clasped together. “Oh, Severus, defense is not just about casting spells and counter curses. It’s also about understanding what you’re defending, and why. I hope to provide a broader perspective, while continuing to teach you the practical skills.”

Snape relaxed his posture slightly, but his tone remained sharp. “And how do you propose we alternate? You teach a lesson on moral dilemmas, while I clean up the chaos with dueling training?”

Albus laughed softly, a twinkle in his eye. “I’m sure our styles complement each other perfectly, Severus. You bring discipline and precision, while I provide… inspiration.” Snape snorted. “Inspiration won’t save them when they’re attacked by a Death Eater, Headmaster.”

“Perhaps not,” Albus conceded. “But inspiration can give them courage when all seems lost.” Snape looked at the pile of books Albus had next to him, titles like The Philosophy of Magic and Tales of Wizards and Muggles. His upper lip lifted slightly. “I hope you’re not going to tell stories from fairy tales.”

“Only if it’s relevant,” Albus said with a wink. Snape sighed deeply and sat down in a chair across from Dumbledore. “And what if the students, Potter in particular, are confused by the inconsistency of our methods?”

“Dana’s a sharp girl,” Albus replied quietly. “And I have a feeling she’ll learn a lot from your lessons, Severus.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “And yours?”

Albus smiled. “Let’s just say it’s always good to have different perspectives.”

A silence fell over the room as Snape seemed to collect his thoughts. Finally, he nodded slowly. “Very well, Headmaster. But I warn you: if you teach them how to be rash idealists, I will put that right.”

Dumbledore laughed softly. “I expect nothing less from you, Severus.”

With that, Snape stood up and straightened his cloak. “I’ll start with a lesson in dueling techniques. Let’s see how far your ‘inspiration’ takes them when they’re up against an opponent.”

Albus nodded in agreement. “Excellent. And then I’ll give a lesson on the power of choice, and how it shapes our future.” Snape turned toward the door, his cloak swinging behind him. “I hope they never have to make that choice while under attack.”

As he left, Albus smiled to himself and picked up one of his books. “Ah, Severus. You understand more than you care to admit.”

***

In the weeks that followed, students of every year experienced the different styles of their DADA teachers. And what no one expected, it united the Houses in a way that was not seen before. Albus moral questions and Snape's no-nonsense teaching style helped.

Slytherins became friends with Griffyndors, and Ravenclaws started study groups with Slytherins and Griffyndors and the Puffs, they got along with everyone. It was the Slytherins however that seemed to change the most. Draco and Dana became friends. He helped her with Pureblood ways, she explained electricity to him. Hannah, Theo, and Hermione became friends and bonded over books and studying and Pansy and Daphne became friends with Parvati and Lavender and talked about clothes and makeup.

The upper years helped the younger students and Quidditch was still competitive, but more in friendly rivalry. Wood started dating Flint and comforted his boyfriend when he spectacularly wiped the floor with him in the sky.

Shadow, who was always with Dana, no longer frightened the other students. The hellhound, who had initially caused whispers and awkward looks, had found his place. Students would occasionally try to cautiously attract his attention. The braver Gryffindor students would try to slip him bits of meat during dinner in the Great Hall, which usually resulted in an icy stare from Professor Snape. Ravenclaws would watch him with scientific curiosity, noting his behavior as if he were a magic formula waiting to be solved.

The Puffs, as always, were the most openly fond of Shadow. They would take it upon themselves to secretly make dog treats in the kitchen with the help of the Elves and give them to Dana so she could reward Shadow. Even the Slytherins, who had been skeptical at first, came to respect the creature. Theo Nott was caught one day talking softly to Shadow as if the dog were a confidant.

But Shadow was picky. He remained loyal above all to Dana and her immediate circle. If anyone tried to touch him without her permission, he would let out a deep growl that was immediately followed by nervous apologies. Sometimes they saw him, sometimes they didn’t. He was fed by the House Elves and during lessons, he slept under Dana’s desk. Every night he slept on her bed.

Castiel would occasionally show up to see how Dana was doing. His presence was usually brief, but his reports to Sam and Dean were detailed. During one of his visits, he stood at the edge of the Great Hall, invisible to everyone except Dana, who gave him a brief nod and a smile.

When Castiel returned to London, he addressed the brothers in his trademark neutral tone. “Dana’s doing well,” he began. “She’s made more friends, the older students seem to like her, and Shadow is… surprisingly popular.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Popular? That thing?”

Castiel tilted his head as if he didn’t understand Dean’s skepticism. “Students are trying to feed him. A few of them have even tried to pet him.” Sam chuckled. “So? How did that go?”

Castiel’s lips twitched briefly in something almost a smile. “He’s ignored them. Except for one Hufflepuff boy. Shadow allowed him to touch his ear, but only for a moment.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Great. The mutt has a fan club.”

***

The students didn’t know what happened with Quirrell, Dana kept her mouth shut about the incident. Deep in the underground corridors of Hogwarts, far removed from the bustling corridors where students moved, lay a heavily fortified cell. It was no ordinary dungeon, but a space protected by both ancient spells and new barriers that Albus himself had created. The walls seemed to breathe with magic, and an icy silence hung in the air.

Quirrell sat on a wooden bench in the corner, his head in his hands. His turban, the symbol of the dark truth he wore, had been removed, and his face was pale. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, a combination of fear and physical exhaustion. It felt as if a part of him was slowly slipping away, leaving a void where a compelling voice once filled his thoughts. He had woken up from a coma about a week ago and had been in this cell since that time.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. Severus Snape appeared in the doorway, his dark cloak sweeping behind him. He stood, his arms crossed, his sharp gaze examining Quirrell.

“How ironic,” Snape began, his voice cold and calculating. “The man who allowed himself to be controlled by You-Know-Who… Now a shadow of his former self.”

Quirrell looked up, his eyes gleaming with fear. “I… I had no choice,” he stammered. “He… he found me. He forced me.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Everyone has a choice, Quirrell. Even in the darkest moments.”

Albus Dumbledore arrived shortly after, his eyes a mix of pity and resolution. He glanced at Snape before turning his gaze to Quirrell. “Severus, let us not write him off completely. Even the most broken souls can be mended.”

Snape snorted. “And how do you propose to do that, Headmaster? By giving him tea and biscuits?”

Dumbledore smiled softly. “Perhaps we can begin to understand what drove him to do this.”

He stepped over to Quirrell and crouched down so that their eyes were level. “Professor Quirrell,” he began softly, “I understand that you are afraid. But to proceed, we must understand what happened. What do you know about the connection to The Dark Lord?”

Quirrell trembled, his hands clenched into fists. “He… he used me. I was nothing more than a host to him. A pawn in his game.”

Snape looked at Albus, his voice low and sharp. “And what is your plan, Headmaster? To forgive him and return him to society as if nothing had happened?”

Dumbledore stood and looked at Snape, his gaze serious. “I’m not saying we forgive him, Severus. But if we can help him, if we can learn more about The Dark Lord’s plans… then we can protect others.”

Snape’s eyes narrowed. “And what if he is taken over again? What if he remains a threat?”

“That’s why we’re taking precautions,” Albus replied. “I’ll weave spells that will protect him from further manipulation. But if he relapses… then we’ll take the necessary steps.” Quirrell looked at them desperately. “I don’t want that anymore… I want him gone…”

Later that night, alone in his cell, Quirrell heard whispers in his head again. Voldemort’s voice was faint but present, piercing and ominous.

“You think they’ll save you?” the voice whispered. “They’ll use you and throw you away like I did. You belong to me.” Quirrell shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. “No… no, I don’t want this anymore. Stay away.” But the voice didn’t disappear completely. And though he was physically trapped, he continued to struggle mentally with Voldemort’s shadow.

Later that week, after eating, Quirrell kept the knife he was eating with. When the House Elf took the tray away and he was alone, he made a final decision. When Albus found him, it was too late. Quirrell was dead, and so was the chance to get more information about Voldemort.

Chapter Text

Almost Christmas

It was time to head home for the holidays. Dana packed her stuff and boarded the train. She noticed how Shadow snuffled at something in front of the carriages, but she didn’t see anything and called him to her.

The train stopped at Platform 9¾ with a screeching screech of brakes. The doors swung open, and children poured out with their suitcases, owl cages, and a cacophony of laughter and chatter. Dana was one of the first to jump off the train, her face alight as she saw Sam and Dean standing at the end of the platform.

“Dad! Uncle Sam!” she called, dragging her suitcase behind her. Shadow walked unseen beside her, but Dean could hear the soft rumble of his presence. Sam crouched down to catch her in a hug. “Hey, kiddo! How was the ride?”

“Awesome! I was with Fred and George, and they showed me how to catch a chocolate frog before it escapes!” Dean laughed, his hand on her head. “That sounds like a real survival trip. But how about we go get a hamburger?” Dana’s eyes lit up. “Really? Can I have fries with that?”

Just then, a familiar voice sounded. “Hello, sir.” Dean turned and looked straight into the face of Draco Malfoy, who had his parents behind him. Draco grinned slightly, less arrogant than usual.  Dana looked surprised for a moment but then smiled. “Hi, Draco.” She was confused, as they had just said goodbye in the train compartment. Draco had explained how his father in particular, thought about Muggles, so she was surprised to see them.

Dean bowed his head slightly, his voice friendly. “Young Draco Malfoy. It’s good you haven’t gotten into any mischief yet.”

Draco blushed slightly, but his father, Lucius Malfoy, stepped forward and gave Dean a polite smile. “Mr. Winchester. I’ve heard that my son has made some interesting friends.” He looked at Dana before looking back at Sam and Dean.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Interesting? That sounds like a compliment, but I’m guessing it isn’t.”

Lucius smiled thinly. “Let’s just say it’s… unusual for someone without magic to have such a strong influence on our world.”

Sam, ever the mediator, stepped in. “Unusual perhaps, but sometimes the most unexpected players are the key to change.”

Lucius’s gaze sharpened, but his voice remained calm. “Change can be both a blessing and a curse, Mr. Winchester. It depends on the direction in which one moves.”

Narcissa spoke for the first time, her voice soft but determined. “Our son has told us a great deal about you, and about Dana, I cannot deny that I have become… curious.”

Draco looked cautiously at his parents, then at Dean. “Father, he is not like most Muggles.” Lucius looked at his son, his gaze surprisingly mild. “Perhaps not. But caution is a quality I will never give up.”

Lucius glanced at Dana again, who fidgeted uncomfortably under his sharp gaze. This caused Shadow to be more alert. Lucius turned his attention back to Dean and Sam. “I hope you understand that our worlds are more complex than they seem. And that allies, however unlikely, can sometimes be invaluable.”

Dean snorted, but Sam remained calm. “If you have anything to offer, Mr. Malfoy, we would like to hear it. But please understand that our priority is Dana.”

Lucius nodded slowly. “I would have it no other way. Should you ever… need knowledge of the depths of our world, please do not hesitate to contact us.” Dean crossed his arms but said nothing. Narcissa smiled briefly at Dana.

As the Malfoys turned and walked away, Draco paused. He looked at Dana and said softly, “I can try to get him to invite you to the annual Christmas party.” With those words and a small smile, he followed his parents.

Dean watched the Malfoys walk away, his gaze thoughtful. He looked at Sam. “Did you get the idea he was trying to say something? But then he didn’t?” Sam nodded. “Yeah, he was being cryptic.”

Just then, a cheerful voice sounded from behind them. “Winchesters, right?” Dean turned and looked straight into the kind, curious eyes of Arthur Weasley. He smiled broadly and held out a hand. “We meet again. How are you, boys? I have heard you and Moody are a team. How is that working out for you?”

Dean hesitated for a moment, shook the man’s hand, and then smiled. “Well, it’s definitely something. He keeps us busy.” Sam shook Arthur’s hand as well and smiled politely. “Arthur, how are you?” Arthur smiled enthusiastically. “Very good. And this must be Dana, right?”

Dana looked up curiously at the tall, friendly man. “Yes, sir.” Shadow did not react, but she felt him beside her.

“Amazing, amazing,” Arthur said, his gaze quickly sliding to Sam and Dean. “My boys speak highly of her. Especially Fred and George. They think you’re incredibly smart and brave.” Dana blushed slightly and glanced down at her feet, clearly not used to such praise.

“Arthur, to whom are you talking? Oh, hello boys!” Molly Weasley appeared beside her husband, her eyes warm and motherly. She looked from Sam to Dean and then to Dana. “Oh, darling, what nice to meet you! How do you like Hogwarts?” Dana looked up at Molly, relaxing a little at her warm tone. “I think it’s great, ma’am.”

Molly beamed. “Oh, call me Molly, dear. And you must call Arthur by his first name, too. You’re practically part of the family, given how much Fred and George adore you. Arthur chuckled. “And Ron as well, though he’s a bit quieter about it.”

“Fred and George adore everyone,” Dean muttered under his breath, but there was a small grin tugging at his lips. Sam nudged him, his expression softer as he looked at Molly. “It’s nice to see Dana has so many friends.”

Molly’s gaze lingered on Dana for a moment, her motherly instincts kicking in. “You’re always welcome at The Burrow, dear. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to let us know. Dana blinked up at her, momentarily speechless. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s… really nice.”

Molly understood Dana had trouble with the use of her first name and didn’t comment on it. “Well,” Arthur said, clapping his hands together, “if you ever need anything explained or have questions, don’t hesitate to reach out. We’re always happy to help.”

As the Weasleys began to gather their things to leave, Molly opened her arms and asked Dana if she wanted a hug. Dana was happy to be given the choice and gave Molly a careful, hesitant hug. “Take care of yourself, dear. And these two, of course,” she said, nodding toward Dean and Sam.

The platform had a Floo option, but Dean did not want to shout his address out loud, so they opted for Tinker to take them home. Once inside, he helped Dana unpack and after that, they went out to eat the earlier-promised hamburgers and fries.

They took a cab this time and as the cabbie moved through the busy London streets Dana looked around at the many lights and people. She secretly loved London. Shadow ran along with the cab, invisible, because he simply didn’t fit into the car. They reached their destination, a pub that had, according to Dean, the best burgers in London. They were seated and ordered, and while they were waiting for the food to arrive, Sam broached the subject of where to spend the Christmas holidays.

“So Dana, Dean, and I were thinking. This is up to you, you get to choose, but would you like to spend the vacation in London or in the cottage by the beach?” Dana mauled it over. She actually didn’t have a preference. “I thought we would go back to the bunker?” she asked.

“The bunker is fine as it is. Garth is there every once in a while, and Sam and I take turns to get through the portal if we need stuff. We still help other hunters, but it’s not really Christmassy,” Dean said.

Dana mulled it over, chewing her lip. She didn’t have a strong preference, but the idea of the beach, with the crashing waves and the cozy fireplace of the cottage, sounded magical. “I really like the cottage. Let’s go there?” Her uncertainty melted when both men smiled. Dean gave her a thumbs-up. “Good choice, kiddo.”

The food arrived…massive, greasy burgers stacked high with all the fixings, alongside golden fries. They laughed and joked through the meal, Dean making exaggerated groans of delight at every bite while Sam rolled his eyes. Dana giggled, enjoying the warm, carefree atmosphere.

When they returned home, Tinker had worked his magic. “Everything is packed and waiting at the cottage,” the elf declared proudly. Dana gave him a quick hug, catching him off guard, but he recovered with a small bow.

Stepping through the portal, they arrived at the library inside the cottage. The night had fallen, and the sky above was an endless stretch of stars. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of salt from the sea.

The cabin glowed in the moonlight, the windows welcoming with a soft, golden hue. As they stepped inside the living room, a warm fire roared to life in the hearth, as if it had been expecting them. Shadow darted inside, sniffing around before curling up near the fire like he owned the place.

Dana stood in the center of the room, spinning slowly to take it all in. The twinkling fairy lights strung across the mantle, the soft rugs underfoot, and the faint hum of peace that seemed to fill the air, it was everything she could have wanted.

“This is perfect,” she said softly, turning to Dean and Sam. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, a look they would treasure. Dean put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “That’s the idea, kiddo.” Sam smiled warmly. “Let’s make it a Christmas to remember.”

As they settled in for the evening, the gentle crackle of the fire and the occasional soft snuffle from Shadow filled the room. For the first time in a long while, everything felt just right.

***

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the cottage as Dana made her way to the kitchen. Dean was already standing there, a mug of coffee in hand and a wry smile on his face. “Ready for a little outing, kiddo?” he asked, throwing his coat over his shoulder.

Dana looked at him curiously. “Where are we going?”

“Getting presents,” Dean replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Sam’s got his hands full with the cottage and a few… special guests coming over. But you and me? We’re going Christmas shopping.” Dana’s eyes lit up. She’d never really gotten to pick out presents before. “Really? What kind of presents?”

Dean winked at her. “We’ll see about that. Come on, young lady.” They walked together to the village, a short walk past snow-covered trees and a frozen stream. Dean hummed a Christmas carol softly as Dana skipped beside him, her breath visible in the cold air. Shadow walked next to her.

The shopping streets were bustling with activity. Stalls of decorations, lights, and Christmas specialties stretched along the main street. Dana’s eyes widened. Dean leaned toward her. “Where do we start?” he asked.

“Maybe something for Sam?” Dana suggested, pointing to a stall of books. She eventually chose a leather journal, just the kind of thing Sam would appreciate.

Dean nodded approvingly. “Good choice, kiddo.” For Dean, Dana chose a simple metal keychain in the shape of a star. Dean looked at her in surprise when she showed it to him, but a wide grin spread across his face. “I knew you had taste.”

Dean found Dana a warm scarf in a subtle star pattern. “Here, because you’re a star,” he said with a playful wink, making Dana blush. They finished their walk with a large box of Christmas cookies and a handful of glittering decorations. The walk back to the cottage was filled with stories of Dean’s most chaotic Christmas hunts, with Dana laughing in the snow.

Meanwhile, at the cottage, Sam had his hands full with Rowena, who criticized the simple decorations. “Samuel, honey, this can’t be right. A few streamers? Where’s your aesthetic sense?”

“You know what?” Charlie said, grinning widely. “Let’s make it epic. Think magical Christmas.” Rowena raised her eyebrows. “Magical? What do you mean?”

“Stars, lights, and enchantment! Let’s make it really special.” Charlie’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “I’ll see what I can do,” Rowena said, her hands already gleaming with magical energy. Within minutes, candles were floating from the ceiling and golden lights were shining like galaxies around the room.

Sam watched, intrigued. “Okay, I admit, this is impressive.” Charlie gave Rowena a playful nudge. “See? Collaboration pays off.”

Once the decorations were done, they helped Sam make a big bowl of hot chocolate and bake cinnamon rolls. “Dana’s gonna love this,” Charlie said with a smile.

Dean and Dana arrived back at the cottage, their arms full of bags. When they entered, they paused for a moment. The living room had been transformed into a magical Christmas scene. The floating candles, sparkling lights, and the delicious smell of cinnamon made it perfect.

Dana’s mouth dropped open. “Wow...” Dean whistled softly. “Okay, this isn’t bad.” Rowena stood next to the fireplace, grinning. “Not bad? This is brilliant, honey.” Sam walked forward. “How was your trip?”

Dana smiled widely. “It was great. We bought presents! But this here...” She looked around. “This feels like a real Christmas.” Charlie gave her a thumbs up. “That was the idea.” As the evening wore on, they opened the presents. Dana was overjoyed to receive Dean’s scarf and the new book Charlie gave her.

Dean smiled at the sight of the keychain, while Sam opened the journal with great care. After dinner, they all sat by the fireplace. Dana leaned against Dean, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This is the best Christmas ever.” Dean put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder gently. “You deserve it, kiddo.”

Chapter Text

Back at Hogwarts, start of new term:

It was a cold morning in January when Dana, Shadow at her side, entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Today, Professor Dumbledore would be teaching the class, and the students were excited. The atmosphere was a mixture of curiosity and excitement, but Dana could feel a slight tension in the air. It was a feeling she couldn’t place, as if something invisible was hanging around them.

Professor Dumbledore was already standing at the board, his long, glittering robes moving slightly as if a gentle breeze were blowing through the room. He greeted the class with a warm smile. “Today, dear students, we will delve into the art of protection. We will not only practice spells, but also think about what it means to be truly safe.”

The class went smoothly, and Dana noticed how relaxed the atmosphere was during Dumbledore’s lessons. But halfway through the lesson, Shadow suddenly began to grow restless. The hellhound growled softly, his ears flattened against his head. Dana leaned toward him and whispered, “What’s wrong, boy?” Shadow’s gaze turned to a corner of the room where nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Dana’s stomach tightened; she knew that Shadow always sensed something special when danger threatened.

After class, Dana stayed behind. She waited until the other students had left, then walked over to Dumbledore. “Professor, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, my dear,” he replied with his usual warmth.

“Shadow… he got restless during class. He looked over to that corner,” she said, pointing to the shadowy spot. “I think there’s something strange.”

Dumbledore’s kind face turned serious. He walked over to the corner Dana indicated and squinted as if trying to see something invisible. After a moment, he drew his wand and muttered an incantation. A brief, flickering shadow shot across the air and disappeared. “Interesting,” Dumbledore said softly, turning back to Dana. “You have keen instincts, Dana. What you sensed was a residue of an old spell. The magic of this curse is time-bound. Sometimes it is so subtle that it goes unnoticed, but occasionally, like now, it becomes stronger or more active. That is what Shadow must have felt.”

“Is it… the curse?” Dana asked cautiously. Dumbledore nodded slowly. “The curse on this position is one of the most complex and dark spells I have ever encountered. It is like a web, woven with magic that renews itself. But your observation may be invaluable in understanding it.” Dana felt a mixture of pride and fear. “What can I do?”

Dumbledore smiled encouragingly. “At this moment, it is for the adults to resolve, my dear girl.”

***

Dumbledore’s office was filled with the soft tapping of Fawkes’ beak against his golden stand. The room was bathed in the warm light of the fireplace, but the tone of the conversation was anything but relaxed. In front of Dumbledore stood a magical crystal, glowing with the symbols of an ongoing communication request. With a sigh, he activated it.

Within moments, a holographic image appeared of a thin, sharply dressed wizard with a careful demeanor. His face was partially hidden behind a magical mask, like most of the Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries.

“Professor Dumbledore,” came a calm but firm voice. “What may I do for you?”

“Your expertise, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore began, his eyes gleaming behind his half-moon glasses. “As you may know, the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts has been cursed for years. Its origins are obscure, its nature complex, and its effects worrying. It is time we approach this matter with extreme caution.”

The Unspeakable nodded slowly. “The curse is known to us, but there have always been restrictions on how close we could come to Hogwarts without permission from the headmaster. You are now requesting direct intervention?”

Dumbledore leaned forward slightly. “Exactly. I was always unsure of the curse, but it seems it’s really there. This curse is not only destabilizing the lessons, but also the well-being of the students. We need a multidisciplinary approach. Your expertise in ancient and complex magic would be indispensable.”

The Unspeakable paused, as if weighing the implications. “There are risks, Albus. A curse of this nature is not only a threat to those who come into contact with it, but also to those who attempt to dismantle it.”

“I am aware of the dangers,” Dumbledore replied calmly, “but I believe that you and your colleagues possess the knowledge and subtlety necessary for this task. Hogwarts depends on your help.” After a brief silence, the Unspeakable spoke again. “I will consult our leading specialist in curses. A team will be sent to Hogwarts within days. But I warn you, Albus: what we discover may raise more questions than it answers.”

“That is a risk I am willing to take,” Dumbledore said with a soft smile. “Thank you.” With a curt bow, the holographic image disappeared, leaving Dumbledore alone in his office. His gaze drifted to the window, where the moon shone brightly. “We need answers,” he muttered to himself. “And we will find them, no matter the cost.”

***

The Great Hall was silent and deserted, bathed in the dim light of flickering torches. It was the middle of the night, and only a handful of people were gathered around one of the oldest and most mysterious parts of Hogwarts: the corridor leading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor’s office.

Dumbledore stood to one side, his gaze serious as he watched three Unspeakables in dark robes and glittering masks make their preparations. Their hands moved in sync, whispering spells that were barely audible over the soft murmur of magic in the air.

“I must say,” began one of them, a woman with a deep, melodious voice, “this spell is no mere curse. It is a work of art. A gruesome work of art, but impressive in its design.” Dumbledore nodded seriously. “Which makes it all the more important that it be removed. It has done too much damage.”

The leading Unspeakable - a thin man with a staff that emitted glowing runes, raised his hand. “We have located the core of the curse. It is woven deep into the foundations of this office, a nexus of ancient and dark magic. What we do now is not without risk.”

Snape, standing across the room with a frown on his face, crossed his arms. “Risks are inevitable. Do what is necessary.” The Unspeakables spoke their incantations, their voices in sync, and a cold wind seemed to blow through the room. A green glow began to radiate from the floor, as if the curse were defending itself. The runes on the walls began to flicker, and one of the Unspeakables stumbled backward.

“Stand your ground!” the leader shouted as he stabbed his wand into the ground, creating a blue barrier around the team.

Dumbledore stepped forward, his wand steady in his hand. “May I assist?”

The Unspeakable shook his head. “Your presence is enough, Albus. We must unravel the curse without feeding it. Another magical core could destabilize it.” Slowly, but with precision, the Unspeakables began to unravel the magic. It was as if they were unraveling a web that was trying to repair itself again and again. Shadow, standing invisible beside Dumbledore, growled softly, as if he could sense the resistance of the curse.

After what seemed an eternity, the green glow faded. A final powerful spell sent a wave of light that seemed to travel through the entire castle. The curse collapsed with a dull thud, and the room filled with silence.

“It is done,” the leading Unspeakable said with a sigh of relief. “The curse is dismantled. The position is no longer burdened.” Dumbledore smiled, his eyes shining with relief. “My thanks are great. You have done Hogwarts a great service.”

The female Unspeakable wiped sweat from her brow and looked around. “This curse was unique. It was not placed by just anyone. This was the work of a master. But fortunately… no master is infallible.” Snape gave an approving, if cynical, nod. “Hopefully, this episode is finally over.”

The Unspeakables packed away their magical instruments, and Dumbledore watched as they left, their silhouettes disappearing into the shadows of the corridors. Shadow left to go back to Dana. For the first time in years, Hogwarts felt lighter, as if an invisible burden had been lifted.

End of the year:

The last few days of the school year were a whirlwind of activity. Exam stress had given way to excitement and relief as students packed their bags and quickly exchanged parting gifts. Dana, who had previously been afraid of coming to Hogwarts, now felt a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving her friends behind.

She stood in the courtyard with Hannah and Ernie. The sun shone softly over the castle, and the scent of flowering plants filled the air. Fred and George walked up, Draco not far behind.

“You’re not going to forget us, are you, Potter?” Fred teased, handing her a small box. When she opened it, she saw a beautiful handmade bracelet with small charms in the shapes of books and stars.

“We made this ourselves,” George said proudly. “And it’s cursed, but in a nice way. If you wear it, no one will ever be able to say you’re boring.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I think you’d better not believe them. But honestly, Potter, it’s been… interesting hanging out with you this year.” He paused, a sign of his growing respect.

That night, the Great Hall was decorated with gold and silver ribbons, and candles were burning everywhere, shining just a little brighter than usual. Dana sat with her friends at the Hufflepuff table as the prom was in full swing.

Professor Dumbledore stood up and raised his glass. “My dear students, a wonderful year is coming to an end. You’ve shown your resilience and curiosity, and for that, we deserve a big round of applause.” The room filled with cheers.

Dana smiled as she looked around. She finally felt like she belonged somewhere. She remembered the cold days when she first arrived, uncertain about everything. Now here she was with friends, magic she was finally beginning to understand, and a future that didn’t seem so scary anymore.

The next morning, she stood on the station platform, her suitcases beside her. Shadow darted around her legs, visible and invisible at the same time. Draco and Hannah waved one last time before boarding the train.

When the train arrived at Londen, Sam and Dean stood further away. Their faces lit up as they saw Dana approaching. Dean waved with exaggerated enthusiasm. “There she is! Our little witch.”

Dana ran over to them, and Dean effortlessly picked her up in a quick hug. “So, how was it?” he asked with a wide smile. “Any weirdos? Or just reading books?” Dana laughed. “It was great. But I’m also glad to be home.” Sam squeezed her shoulder gently. “We missed you, kiddo.”

As they walked to the car, not an Impala this time, but a simple rental, Dana knew she was truly lucky. Two worlds, one home.

End of part one