“You probably don’t take Visa, do you?”
September 15
Sam could feel a low buzz of excitement under his skin as he sat and took everything in.
It was the same way he felt in Texas, so completely awed by proof of everything that could never be explained. Sam grew up knowing monsters and terrors of legends were real, but magic was different.
Magic made Sam think of the champagne that Jessica always bought for celebrations. It was light, bubbly, caused giddiness and excitement. And in the village that Harry’s new magical portkey took them to, it was everywhere.
Sam was walking the streets of the village while Harry had his first lesson with his professor. It wasn’t too busy for a Friday afternoon, Harry said it would be much busier the next day when the students were able to leave the school.
Harry didn’t have to say that he was losing his mind with excitement to see his friends the next day, Sam could just tell. It made Sam happy to see Harry so happy about everything. Harry got to have his family, his friends, his school… he didn’t have to give anything up, and that was the way it should be.
Maybe if Dean had been Sam’s guardian when he’d gotten a free ride to Stanford then Sam wouldn’t have ever felt torn between family and dreams.
Not that it mattered anymore, Sam was just happy to continue seeing proof that Dean was three times the parent that John had ever been.
Sam shook off his own irritable thoughts and focused on his exploration of Hogsmeade. Harry’s teacher said that they would spend about six hours working on magic - and next month Sam was absolutely going to try and sit in on that lesson - which meant Sam had plenty of time to see everything.
Or, try really hard, anyway.
Sam stuck out like a sore thumb in his jeans and flannel, but he didn’t mind the odd looks he kept getting as he went from shop to shop. There was a candy store with crazy candies - Sam wondered if Lenore would eat a blood pop or if he could trick Dean into eating a cockroach cluster. There was an entire shop dedicated to nothing but toys and prank items - a few of which Sam realized he’d actually seen before and believed them to be cursed items.
There was a pawn shop that Sam spent a while in, just looking at all the medical items and totally not drooling over the books. The shopkeeper there kept shooting Sam suspicious looks, probably the American accent and normal clothes, so Sam made a note to return with Harry.
And whatever the hell kind of currency they used because Sam got a blank stare when he asked if they accepted visa.
Sam made his way back to the bar and motel where Harry’s teacher set them up for the weekend. Harry still had an hour, but Sam was beginning to feel self-conscious as the village got busier and people were staring hard at him.
If Dean were there, he might have made himself comfortable in the bar while Harry had his lesson, but Dean lost rock, paper, scissors and so it was Sam that got to spend two days in a magical town with Harry. The Hogs Head seemed like a strange place for Harry’s teacher to hold his lesson at, but Professor Dumbledore said they weren’t likely to be bothered if they held it there.
Which made sense because the bar had been empty that morning, Harry’s teacher let them in and directed Sam to a room on the second floor that be and Harry could stay in for the night. Harry had all but skipped away to the room in the back of the building with his teacher that they were using for the day.
When Sam made it to the little hole in the wall bar, there were a few people scattered around the dingy bar, but the door of the back room was still closed. Sam hesitated and then walked over to the bar to sit and wait for Harry. He didn’t plan on ordering anything, since he didn’t think he had the right kind of money, but the bartender walked over to him anyway.
“I’m just waiting on my brother,” Sam explained quickly. The excitement from when he first arrived was still there, but it was accompanied with an itch of anxiety.
Sam didn’t fit in there at all and he knew it and everyone else knew it as well. Sam wished he fit in - he wished his visions made him just as much of the magical world as Harry’s wand made him - but he didn’t.
It was still fascinating, Sam just wished he found anywhere that he fit in at.
Too much of a hunter for normal people. Too much of a freak for hunters. Not enough of a freak for wizards.
The Sam Winchester Story.
The bartender, an older man who looked like Harry’s teacher with the long grey beard, tall and thin frame, and bright blue eyes, sort of grunted at Sam.
“Your brother’s the one makin’ potions in my office?” he asked in a thick accent.
“Yeah.” Sam had his shoulders up in a hunch and he tried to relax them for the normal conversation. “That’s Harry.”
“I know that,” the bartender said with a derisive snort.
Right, Sam forgot that Harry was a mini-celebrity. Which was fifty levels of messed up, considering he was a child who lost his parents. It was also a little amusing because Harry clearly hated being so well-known and it made Sam feel more in tune with him when Harry said he wanted to be just Harry.
Sam always wanted to be just Sam.
“You want a drink? I think they’re gonna be late,” the bartender offered. “Bloody Albus never understood clocks.”
“You probably don’t take visa, do you?” Sam asked, already guessing the answer based on the lack of technology anywhere that he had been that day. It made Sam regret not bringing his laptop with him… technology was Sam’s security blanket.
“‘S that muggle money?” The bartender shook his head and pulled a heavy pint glass from under the counter when Sam nodded. “Bloody Albus didn’t even tell ya what to bring,” he muttered as he began using his wand to fill the glass.
Sam watched with interest as a stream of beer poured from the tip of the wand, filling the cup with minimal fizz. The bartender complained about ‘bloody Albus’ the whole time to the point that Sam was beginning to think they were actually related.
Nobody would loan out rooms of the bar to someone and bitch about them at the same time if they weren’t related.
“I’m puttin’ that on Albus’s tab,” the man said as he gave Sam the drink. “You decide you want somethin’ else, I got a menu.”
“Thank you,” Sam said politely. A laminated menu popped up in front of him, covered in a thick layer of grease. The bartender grunted and walked away before Sam had a chance to ask his name.
Shrugging, Sam took a cautious sip of the drink and found that it was just room temperature beer. It wasn’t great, but Sam wasn’t picky either. The menu looked mostly normal too, just a lot of foreign meals and some that were probably meant for non-humans, like the O Positive Soup and Fresh Butchered Beef.
Disgusting.
Sam finished off about half of his drink and was wishing hard that he had thought to bring a book with him when someone sat down in the seat directly beside him. It was a woman, young, pretty, smiling directly at Sam.
“Wotcher.” The woman offered Sam a hand and he was confused, but politely shook it anyway. “I’m auror Tonks,” she said.
‘Auror Tonks’ had a firm and calloused handshake that Sam didn’t expect from her. Not that Sam thought women weren’t tough, or whatever, Sam just saw the short pink bobbed hair, delicate facial features, and round eyes the color of deep amethyst and was caught by surprise by her firm grip.
“Sam,” Sam said. The self-conscious feeling returned as the woman studied him until Sam couldn’t help but ask, “Can I help you?”
“Hey! That’s my line!” Auror Tonks laughed and Sam tried to relax. She raised her hand to catch the bartenders attention then crossed one leg over the other as she spun to the side to face Sam fully. “I got a report that there was a muggle wandering Hogsmeade, I’m going to assume that’s you?”
“I… yeah?” Sam said uncertainly. “I’m allowed to be here, I think? My brother is here?”
“Is your brother also a muggle?” she asked.
“His brother is Harry Potter.” The bartender returned and had a stained rag in his hands that he used to swipe out another pint glass. “The usual, Tonks?”
“I’m working, Abe,” Tonks said cheerfully. “Better make it a double.”
‘Abe’ scoffed, though Sam swore he saw his beard twitch with a laugh, and began making a much more complex drink for Tonks than he had Sam. Tonks had a bright smile on her face as she refocused on Sam.
“I didn’t know your brother was a wizard,” she said. “We just got a call about a muggle skulking about and I offered to come check it out.”
“I don’t know about skulking,” Sam protested. “I was, you know, checking everything out.”
Tonks slid a couple of silver coins across the bar when Abe placed her drink before her. It was something fruity, Sam assumed based on the colors and heavy smell of mango.
“Did you find anything you liked?” Tonks asked him, raising her drink and grinning at him over the rim.
“I liked everything better before apparently being reported,” Sam said, making a guess based on the context. Maybe an auror was a type of cop? One that allowed officers to wear tight black jeans, purple boots, and almost offensively bright yellow sweaters. Tonks also had a robe on, one that was navy blue instead of the black that Sam had seen everyone else wearing, but she had on the most normal clothes of the day.
Tonks laughed again, just a happy and bubbling sound that made Sam grin unconsciously. Sam didn’t spend a lot of time around people who just laughed, but it always made him think of Jessica when he did.
Jessica had been almost constantly happy. She just saw the good in everything and was always on Sam to try and get him to see the same things she did. God, he missed her.
“We’re a small community, muggles with odd accents tend to stick out,” Tonks said, sounding almost playful. “You have another brother too, right? The one that called Lily Potter a slag?”
Sam grimaced at the reminder of what Dean said had been a misunderstanding and Harry said had been the most offensive thing he ever read. Harry was trying to get the story corrected, he was even meeting with a reporter the next day before they left to get a correction, but Sam thought the whole thing was messed up.
Harry’s mom died to protect him and Harry had to read about her screwing John Winchester in the news.
“That was a mistake,” Sam told Tonks firmly. “Dean never would have insulted Harry’s mom.”
“If you say so,” Tonks said. She looked around the bar slowly, “Where is Harry? I thought I heard he dropped out of Hogwarts?”
“He’s in a meeting,” Sam said evasively. Sam wasn’t going to make the same mistake Dean did and accidentally start rumors about their brother. “What’s an auror?” he asked instead.
“It’s our version of police officers,” Tonks said, confirming Sam’s guess. “You really are a muggle, aren’t you?”
“Guess so,” Sam said, flushing at his obvious ignorance. “Did you go to Hogwarts?”
“Oh, yeah,” Tonks nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears when some pink strands fell in her face. “It’s a great school, especially this year.”
It only took a few more questions for Sam to get Tonks talking about the magical school he was so curious about. Apparently it was hosting a tournament that year, one that Tonks happily informed him had a death toll in the past.
Further proof that Sam’s brother really didn’t need to be at a school that played so fast and loose with student safety.
Tonks was chatty and perfectly willing to tell Sam all about Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic where she worked. Sam drank in all the information like a man dying of dehydration. By the time Harry popped up, beaming and bouncing on his toes, Sam was a little disappointed to end the conversation.
“Wotcher!” Tonks cried, standing up and offering Harry her hand. Sam was surprised to see that she was kind of short, he didn’t expect that with how loud and large her personality was. “I’m Tonks,” she said.
“Er… Harry,” Harry said, shaking her hand briefly and shooting Sam a puzzled look.
“Someone called the cops on me,” Sam explained. He waved a hand at Tonks. “This is the cop they sent.”
“Someone called the police on you?” Harry repeated, his features shifting to a damn mirror of Dean when he was being ridiculous and over-protective. “Why?”
“Muggle envy,” Tonks said smoothly, pulling on the robes she had discarded during their conversation. “Someone couldn’t bear the idea that there was a muggle twice as good looking as them in town.”
Sam could feel his face turning a hot red color and Harry’s eyes went from suspicious to gleeful instantly.
“Sam’ll be here tomorrow too,” Harry told her. “If, you know, you get more reports about a bloke walking around town.”
“Oh?” Tonks looked at Sam and smiled again, a freaking just happy smile that made Sam suddenly want to cry. “I could give you a much better tour of Hogsmeade, if you’d like. I did spend years finding all the best places here.”
Sam would like that. He could picture it, just walking around and listening to magical history about different places in the little town. Tonks was pretty, bubbly, and Sam almost said yes.
Then Sam saw his hands, one on the bar counter tapping an off-beat rhythm, the other clenched tight in his lap, nails cutting his skin. There were dozens of tiny scars on Sam’s hands, from years of hunting as a kid and adult. It was the old one that caught his eye, on his right hand. In the space between his thumb and index finger there was a patch of scarred skin, smoothed with time, from when Sam had tried to save Jessica before Dean pulled him from her.
“That’s okay,” Sam said, eyes on his hand. “Thank you though.”
Tonks wasn’t offended, Sam didn’t think she would be. She only left with the same level of cheer in her goodbye as Sam suspected she put in everything.
Harry, on the other hand, was offended enough on her behalf.
“Why would you do that?” Harry asked, claiming Tonks’s empty seat. “She seemed nice! And she thought you were good looking!”
“Drop it,” Sam said, not wanting to get into it. Dean Junior would probably take the same stance as Dean and say how Sam needed to ‘get out there’ and it was ‘time to move on’.
Who decided when it was time to ‘move on’? Was there a book for grief that outlined when someone would stop aching at the thought of spending time with an attractive and interesting woman?
Who said ‘you got your mom killed, your girlfriend killed, you killed two men, nearly killed your brothers, but - sure - it’s a good idea to spend time around others’?
No one.
Harry huffed quietly, but he did drop it.
“You wouldn’t believe how much homework I’ve got,” Harry said instead. “Professor Dumbledore said he could have dinner from the castle sent over if I wanted to start it tonight, but if you want we could go to the Three Broomsticks?” Harry dropped his voice and leaned closer to Sam. “Professor Dumbledore said the food here isn’t great. Well, he said it more nicely, but you get the idea.”
Sam forced a grin, grateful that Harry didn’t push the issue, and he left the decision in Harry’s hands.
“Homework it is,” Harry said, looking almost glum about his own choice. “If I at least look it all over tonight then I can ask Hermione about it tomorrow. Oh! You’ll like Hermione, Sam, she’s obsessed with books like you are.”
Sam asked about Harry’s lesson and listened while Harry immediately dove into a detailed recap of every area of work he went over. It was all just as fascinating as the information that Tonks shared and Sam shamelessly asked dozens of questions.
Harry laughed when they went up to the room they’d been given - a room with two beds and a bathroom, no different than every motel Sam had ever been in - and he handed Sam his list of homework.
“This is a lot,” Sam said, reading every line. There were essays that needed written, spells that needed practiced, even worksheets that were attached for subjects like divination and charms.
“I really thought that Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t assign a lot of essays, but here we are,” Harry sighed dramatically. “He’s so brilliant though, Sam. You know he can do wandless magic?”
“Is that hard to do?” Sam asked.
Harry sat in the one desk chair in the room and had his wand in hand, twirling it awkwardly, and he rolled his eyes at Sam’s genuine question.
“It’s basically impossible unless you’re Dumbledore,” Harry said. “Oh! I can use my wand now though! Wanna see?”
Did he?
“Yes,” Sam breathed, tossing Harry’s list of assignments to the side.
Sam’s insecurities from that morning, his anxiety in the afternoon, all of it was forgotten for the rest of the day. Harry started by showing Sam all the spells he had worked on - “Oh, that was supposed to become a top hat, I’ll have to work on that…” - before just breezing through all the spells he knew for Sam’s entertainment.
“You want to see a really good one?” Harry asked Sam, looking suddenly shy, after they had polished off every bite of the homemade dinner that appeared in the room for them.
“Are they not all really good ones?” Sam laughed. He felt good, relaxed, as he laid on one of the beds and got to watch a show that some people could never even imagine.
“This one is… special,” Harry said slowly. “I learned it last year and it’s actually rather hard. I might not even be able to… er… let me think…”
Sam tilted his head to the side while Harry squinted hard at him from his place at the desk. There was an intense look of concentration on Harry’s face and Sam felt like he could actually see him thinking hard about whatever spell it was he wanted to show Sam.
Then Harry suddenly straightened up, beamed, and swished his wand in the air.
“Expecto Patronum!” he cried with perfect pronunciation.
Part of Sam’s brain began automatically translating that, as had with the rest of Harry’s Latin-based spells, but he was genuinely awed by what Harry created. It started out as a stream of silver pouring from the end of his wand and grew until a massive silver buck stood between them in the room.
Sam couldn’t help crawling to the end of the bed and offering his hand to the creature, it just looked so lifelike. Though, when Sam touched its neck, his hand dipped through the warm silver that was neither gas nor liquid but some unknown form between them.
“This is Prongs,” Harry said quietly, smiling softly at the buck. “It’s a patronus, it protects against dementors.”
“It’s amazing, Harry,” Sam said, meaning it. All the magic Sam had seen was amazing, but there was something special about the buck, like it brought a sense of peace and protection with it.
“It took a long time to learn to do. You’ve got to think of a truly happy memory to conjure it.” Harry ducked his head, looking at Sam through black hair that was just as long as Sam’s was. “I - er… I was thinking about, you know… you and Dean, having a real family.”
Something warm to the point of pain squeezed Sam’s chest hard at that. Harry wasn’t a great liar, Sam believed him that he needed a happy memory to make the buck and that he used one of the three of them to create it.
It meant a lot to Sam to hear that; it meant more than he thought he could say.
“If I could make a patronus, I’d think of you and Dean too,” Sam said quietly, focusing on the buck instead of Harry.
He didn’t say ‘I love you too ’ to his little brother, but he kind of did. It was a silent sort of message that Sam assumed Harry could read between the lines to interpret.
It was a nice night, all things considered.