The Seventh Son of a Seventh Son

Seventh Year began on a Tuesday - the 1st of September.

Bobby loaded Sam and Dean’s trunks into his truck and drove them up to Kings Cross. Saying goodbye to the dogs and the yard was as tough as ever to Dean, but he was comfortable in the knowledge that Hogwarts was as good a home as any.

‘Don’t be a stranger, yeah, kids?’ Bobby told them gruffly in the Muggle car park, travelers milling about in hurries between platforms. They’d said their goodbyes the night before to Jody, Alex, and Claire. Alex had cried - complained that she wished it was her turn to go to Hogwarts already, even though she only had one year left to wait - and Claire had clung to Sam’s leg like a rash, unwilling to let go.

Over Summer, several surprising things had transpired. Firstly, Dean had been elected Head Boy. Perhaps the biggest surprise of all. This was following years of bad behaviour, rule-breaking, and general defiance. But suddenly, when the shiny new badge had arrived with an owl, Dean felt like a new man. He wasn’t sure he deserved the title - he’d assumed if anyone were to be Head Boy it would be Castiel - but if he was given the badge then he’d carry it with honor and dignity. Secondly, Castiel had been accepted as Professor Sprout’s assistant for the year - perhaps not a surprise, but still a wonderful achievement nonetheless - and was Captain of the Hogwarts Wizard Chess team. And Benny had been offered a contract with Puddlemere United Quidditch Team, providing he get through an intense bout of training and managed a successful Gryffindor Quidditch Team as Captain this year. Everything felt on the way up. Bobby seemed confident Dean and Charlie would pass their N.E.W.T.s with ease and get accepted into Auror training at the end of school, and even Dean had to admit that he was feeling more comfortable than ever with the idea that he could be successful in life.

Benny, Cas, and Charlie were waiting for Dean in carriage 12 as he climbed onto the Hogwarts Express later that day. He’d hugged Sam and sent him on his way, and now Dean was getting bombarded with hugs from all sides; Charlie, then Benny, then Cas. It was weird, spending every day with these people and then suddenly not seeing them for a whole summer. ‘Good break?’ Dean asked as he settled into the carriage seat, facing Charlie and sat next to Benny.

‘Same as ever, brother,’ Benny sighed, running a hand across his face. ‘Too sunny.’

Dean grimaced. In their Third Year Benny had been hospitalized at St Mungo’s over Christmas break, after a family trip to Inverness. He’d been attacked brutally by a Vampire. Honestly, the news had been earth-shattering for everyone involved, and for a while, no one had been certain if he’d ever be allowed back into Hogwarts. He’d taken a term out, learned to manage his illness, and thankfully by Fourth Year Dumbledore had made arrangements that permitted Benny to return. There’d been incredible medicine formed in recent years. Benny could go outside now, in broad sunlight, as long as he used a particular sun blocker paste that Snape would brew for him regularly. Other than that, he just needed sunglasses and a regular milkshake of rabbit blood to curb the crave every so often.

‘Was Port Isaac alright other than that?’ Dean pushed on.

‘Grand, Dean. Just grand. Charlie stayed for a few days.’

‘Much nicer than Manchester,’ she chimed in. Charlie was from a Wizarding quarter of Manchester. A very different lived experience to either Dean, Benny, and Cas. She lived in a flat, first of all. With tall windows, above the Apothecary ran by her father. Benny lived in a coastal village, and Dean lived in the middle of nowhere, somewhere smack bang on the border between Dorset, Devon, and Somerset. Bobby had enchanted the whole yard, forest, and surrounding fields to be Muggle-proof. The place didn’t exist even on Wizard maps. And Cas… ‘How was home?’ Dean asked his friend. His best friend of the bunch, truth be told.

Castiel lived on Skye. A tiny island at the top of Scotland. It was actually more of a hassle for his parents to get him to Kings Cross than it would’ve been for him to be taken to Hogwarts literally any other way, but his family was a stickler for tradition. He was the seventh son of a seventh son - a fact which had blown Dean’s mind when he’d found this out aged eleven.

‘Home was good,’ Castiel said with a nod. ‘My brothers visited.’

‘Alfie still living at home?’ Dean grinned.

‘Samandriel. Yes.’ Samandriel was only called Samandriel by his family - to everyone else he was Alf or Alfie. He had hated his first name and gone by his middle name Alfred whilst at Hogwarts. Which was odd, in retrospect, because it wasn’t like Samandriel was the only Novak with a stupid name. Arguably only Michael had a reasonable one (‘because he was the first child, I think my parents had felt less ambitious’, Castiel had told Dean once). Gabriel might have also been considered an ordinary name. But Nicodemus, Gadreel, Ezekiel, Samandriel, and Castiel? Insane. Dean felt quite bland in comparison.

‘The twins still on Orkney?’

Castiel shook his head. ‘Gadreel is,’ he said quietly, ‘he’s packing up their flat. But they’ve decided to move back home for a while. Ezekiel is finding work for them both on Skye.’

Dean nodded. All good. Everyone accounted for. And then, ‘What about you, Dean? Good summer?’

Dean grinned. ‘Why, Charlie, I am glad you asked.’ He had kept this as his best secret all summer. But finally, with immense drama, Dean peeled back the corner of his flannel collar to reveal, shiny and polished, the bright Head Boy badge that was tacked onto his shirt. ‘You’re looking at the new Head Boy, lady and gents.’

‘You,’ Benny scoffed.

‘The one and only.’ Dean waggled his eyebrows. ‘I’m honestly surprised it wasn’t Cas.’

‘He’s got a lot on his plate already,’ Charlie reasoned. ‘Dumbledore probably wanted to flesh out your resume for once, as I don’t think having the highest number of pulls in Hogwarts counts for much to a potential employee.’

Dean screwed up his nose. ‘Yes, very funny, very funny.’ But Charlie was right. Cas already had a lot going on - what with his apprenticeship and Wizard Chess hobby. Even so, he was the seventh son of a seventh son. Kind of a big deal to Wizard-kind, even though all Castiel ever wanted to do was keep his head down and deny all attempts at people (rightfully so) accusing him of being insanely talented at something, despite appearing quite ordinary.

The truth was; Cas had a lot of secrets going on. He was the seventh son of a seventh son. And Dean had asked him about it immediately when they’d met on the train to Hogwarts in First year. ‘I’m no different to anybody else,’ Castiel had insisted quite stubbornly, ‘if I’m good at school then it’s because I’m good at school. Not because it’s in my blood, or something.’

To put it lightly; Castiel had developed quite the complex.

In fact, in their First Year it was rare to see Castiel without a beanie on. Nobody had known why. Castiel would also refuse to do his homework with anyone, or practice spells in front of anyone - mostly because he got everything perfect the first time around, and the majority of his classmates had bullied him for it, saying he wasn’t skilled, he was just the seventh son of a seventh son. Dean had stood up for him then, the same way he’d stand up for him now if anyone ever said anything so ridiculous to his face.

As it stood; Castiel was the best in his year. At everything. (Bar Quidditch, somehow). He was the best at Potions, at Herbology, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration - you name it, Castiel succeeded at it. He was the love of Trelawney’s life in Fourth Year when he started having visions without needing the aid of a crystal ball. And Flitwick nearly did a backflip when it turned out Castiel could do nonverbal and hand magic in his sleep. And the beanie? Yep. Castiel had spent his early childhood hiding his hair because before he could control his moods and magic, his hair would change color like the speed of light. He was a Metamorphmagus. Not that anybody but Dean, Benny, and Charlie knew. He didn’t want anyone to know either. He hid it like a werewolf would hide their transformations - like it was something dirty and dangerous, not something incredible and entirely magnificent.

‘Did you turn it down, Cas?’ Dean asked then, coming back into the moment. ‘To be Head Boy, I mean. Did you turn it down?’ It was the only thing that made sense. How could Dumbledore overlook a guy like Cas, with all his powers and strengths?

Castiel shook his head, looking out the window at the countryside that whirred past. ‘I wasn’t asked,’ he said simply. ‘I would’ve turned it down, I think, but I wasn’t asked anyway.’ He looked at Dean and smiled, nudging Dean’s foot across the carriage. ‘Dumbledore is a genius, Dean. Don’t second guess him. You’ve been chosen because you’re the only person suited for the job. Not because you need to flesh out your CV, or because nobody else would’ve stepped up - but because you are the right person to be Head Boy. You’re a leader. I’m not a leader.’ He smirked a little then. ‘I’m just the seventh son of a seventh son.’

Castiel waggled his eyebrows, his eyes changing from piercing blue to fierce green, then dark purple, golden brown, and then back to blue. It made Dean smile. Castiel rarely did tricks with his appearance, much preferring to be relaxed in his true form than to adopt outrageous hair colors or fix anything he didn’t like about himself - ‘it’s too ticklish,’ he’d told Dean when they were fourteen and Castiel was explaining why he didn’t bother hiding his acne, ‘hair is one thing, but changing my skin for a long period of time? It feels like wearing a rash voluntarily.’ He only ever changed small things, just to make Dean laugh. Like his eyes, blinking red across the classroom whilst no one else was looking. Or his face paint during Quidditch games actually just being an elaborate Metamorphmagus trick.

When they arrived at Hogwarts later that night, after Dean had shown the First Years to their Dormitory and given them a speech about Gryffindor’s values, Dean finally managed to get a good look at his best friend after nearly two months apart. ‘You’ve grown,’ he told Castiel as they unpacked their trunks in the Dormitory. He quirked an eyebrow. ‘Is that real muscle I see over there, or just a nifty little bit of transfiguration?’

Castiel rolled his eyes. He finished putting his socks in his bedside table before reaching for his pyjama shirt. He pulled his jumper off over his head, revealing sharp hip bones and a firm stomach. Dean chewed his lip, tearing his eyes away. ‘Whatever you’re witnessing isn’t an illusion,’ Castiel told him simply, and Dean realized with a jolt that his voice was deeper now too. Adam’s Apple more prominent. Castiel moved around his bed, coming to sit opposite Dean. He hadn’t put his shirt on yet, and he glanced briefly at the Dormitory door before his gaze landed on Dean again. ‘Besides, if I was going to make myself look more muscular, don’t you think I’d at least start with an actual six pack?’

‘Gotta keep it realistic, Cassie-boy,’ Dean hummed. He pulled thick woolly socks over his feet and crossed his legs on his bed, settling himself for bedtime in a moment. ‘You look…’ Dean started, but his voice faded away.

Something crossed Castiel’s face. He sat up a little straighter. ‘I look what?’ he asked softly.

There were footsteps on the stairs then. It broke whatever tension had built in the room and Dean cleared his throat, throwing a pillow at Castiel’s direction. ‘You look as noodle-armed as ever,’ he said gruffly, dragging his duvet back and sliding into bed. ‘G’night, Cas.’

He missed the way Castiel’s face fell, just slightly. ‘Goodnight, Dean.’

Dean pulled the curtains around himself, hit with a bone-deep exhaustion from the fact that he’d been up and about since 5am, starting his day at Bobby Singer’s Yard and ending it tucked up in his bed at Hogwarts. Ready for his final year at school. His final year sharing a room with Cas, Benny, Max, and Raphael. His final year with a four-poster bed, bedroom fireplace, stone walls and tall windows.

His final year sleeping inside a magical castle every single night.

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‘You are in your final year at Hogwarts. By the end of this year, you will be trained to the highest degree in whichever subjects you chose in your Sixth Year for your N.E.W.Ts. I want you to line up outside of my office at 3pm today with a clear outline of your plans beyond Hogwarts. This will be the first of our many Careers Advice meetings held this year. You are not to waste these meetings. You are not to come unprepared. Do I make myself clear?’

McGonagall’s voice reverberated around the back of Dean’s mind as he sat there, chin resting on his fist, trying his hardest not to fall asleep. Benny had dragged him out of bed at 6am that morning for Quidditch practice (it was criminal) and he’d been craving sleep ever since. It was the first week of classes. Dean had already started forgetting what he had missed about school during the summer. He craved a long lie-in at Bobby’s, followed by a hearty breakfast and a long walk with the dogs. His eyes slipped shut. The world falling away gently.

Beside him, Castiel gave him a sharp elbow in the rib.

She’s staring at you!

Castiel’s voice ran through his head like a bell. Dean jumped, straightening up with a terrible shiver down his spine. ‘Cas, get outta my head!’ he hissed, shooting the other boy a scowl. Castiel just raised an eyebrow pointedly and Dean looked up - McGonagall’s stern gaze piercing through him like a knife.

‘While it’s wonderful to hear what’s on your mind, Mr. Winchester, I’d much rather appreciate having your concentration,’ McGonagall said tersely. ‘Yes?’

Dean swallowed, shifting a little in his seat as he straightened up and pulled his textbooks closer. ‘Yes, Professor,’ he mumbled sullenly, shooting a look Castiel’s way.

He felt Castiel’s mind nudge against his - gentle and teasing but still apologetic.

I thought you said you’d been practicing Occlumens? Castiel’s voice carried through Dean’s brain again, even as he tried to push it to one side. He kicked the other boy under the table, feeling Castiel’s presence in his head back off with a strong mental shove.

It was great being friends with Castiel - until he started using his many extensive magical skills on you and not just for you.

Later that day, after the Seventh Year Gryffindors had finished their careers meetings with McGonagal, Dean was following Castiel down to the Herbology Greenhouses. This would be where Castiel intended on spending most of his final year at Hogwarts - organizing plant trimmings for Professor Sprout and making sure every botanical specimen was well tended to and cared for. Dean sat on a spare stool and pulled out his notebook, making a list of things he needed to finish before the end of the week whilst Castiel pulled out a chain of keys and started unlocking the Out Of Bounds cupboards in the Greenhouse.

To do:
Create study plan for year
Convince McGonagal to give me an Office as Head Boy
Talk Benny out of 6am Quidditch practices
Buy a new Advanced Potions book; current one is half burned from last year

‘What did you tell McGonagall your career plan was?’ Dean hummed idly as he dipped his quill in the ink pot balanced precariously on his knee.

Castiel’s back was to him, the other boy’s head bowed as he very carefully transported Puffapod seeds from one bowl to the other. Dean didn’t even need to see the other boy’s face to know it was screwed up with concentration, his tongue probably caught between his teeth. ‘I told her…’ Castiel said slowly, one seed successfully repotted, ‘the same as last year. I wish to be a Healer at St Mungo’s.’

‘What did she say?’

‘The same as last year.’ Castiel huffed, dropping a seed and watching as it flowered instantly, bright pink blossoms spreading across the table. He wiped his hands on his front and turned to face Dean. ‘She reminded me that we’re in the midst of a war,’ he said simply, ‘and that talents like mine would be quite desired by the Ministry. As an Auror.’ He pressed his lips together looking, as was rare for Castiel, quite angry. ‘I know what her concern is.’

‘What’s her concern?’

‘That if I don’t explicitly sign up as an Auror, then I run the risk of - worse.’

‘Worse?’

Castiel raised an eyebrow. ‘Death Eaters, Dean. I’m from a Pureblood family. I’m - I’m almost textbook what the Dark Lord would consider a good weapon if ever he needed one. If he caught wind of my powers; that I’m a-a you-know-what, or that I can - can read minds, heal at a touch, do things half the wizarding population couldn’t even dream up…’ Castiel shook his head, looking stressed. ‘My family would be in danger if Voldemort decided he wanted me on his side. But I won’t be an Auror. I don’t want to use my powers for anything remotely violent. I will become a Healer. It’s what I’m best at, I know that much.’

Dean chewed his lip, slowly closing his notebook and sliding off his stool. He placed the book down and moved over to Castiel’s side. ‘Voldemort doesn’t know about your powers,’ he said quietly. ‘And it’s wrong for McGonagall - or anyone - to push you into being a soldier for any side. But, Cas.’ He ducked his head down, meeting Castiel’s eyes even as the other boy looked down. ‘You’re not evil, Cas. Voldemort can try - but he won’t get you. Your parents are good people. Your family is too. You’re Pureblood, but none of you are evil. None of you are Death Eaters.’

At this, Castiel swallowed, looking back at his plants. ‘If,’ he began quietly, ‘if - theoretically - one of my brothers did go dark. You don’t think they would tell Voldemort about me. Do you?’

Dean frowned. ‘What’s gotten into you, man? No one is telling anyone that you can change your hair color, alright? And your brothers aren’t going dark. And they wouldn’t sell you out, even if they did. Alright?’

Castiel nodded. ‘You’re right, I suppose. I just worry. Because - sometimes I worry that if it came down to it, and if Voldemort took the people who I’m closest to-’

‘-He won’t-’

‘-he might, Dean. He’s certainly not above that. But if he did. Then yes, I would do whatever it takes to protect my family. Even if it meant using my powers for Voldemort’s gain. And that scares me.’

‘Cas,’ Dean sighed. ‘Dude, where has this come from? It’s the first day of the last year of our lives at Hogwarts. And you’re worried about a mass serial killer lunatic trying to get you to kill people for him because you can change your hair?’ He shook his head, a hand moving to squeeze Castiel’s shoulder. ‘Relax. Okay? Now come on- talk me through these plants. What are you doing with them?’

Castiel relaxed a little as he talked through the plants, the ones he’d been tasked to re-pot, the ones he needed to plant, and the ones that he just needed to feed and make sure were still alive and well. The two of them stayed in the Greenhouse for a good few hours, Castiel dirty with soil by the end and Dean with a revised list of things to do before the end of the week.

To Do:
Figure out what’s really got Castiel so freaked about You-Know-Who finding out he’s a You-Know-What