31.
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.”