Exorcizamus

Song of the chapter: Stone Sour – Made of scars



The neon sign of The Sunset view motel, hummed quietly. The red light it gave off, oozed over the empty parking lot. Coating it, in a thick, cherry haze. As it was only seven in the evening, the sun was spurting out its last rays before the moon took over. Two men stood, stock still, by the trunk of an inky black car. Their stances were wracked with tension, eyes darting every which way. Though nothing seemed to physically change, both men suddenly looked like they'd stepped off a jerking roundabout.

"This better not happen every time they decide to pop in," Sam grumbled, clutching at his stomach where the whirring sensation was emanating. Dean huffed at the rather dismal pun, raking the scarce parking lot like a vulture. Five, four, three, Dean narrowed down possible appearance points, to roughly 5 feet to his left.

Two, One. "Hello, Samuel, Dean."

Albus Dumbledore strode forward, is dark green robes, going surprisingly well with his orange and pink pinstripe waistcoat. Dean nodded stiffly, Sam, a tentative half-smile.

"I do believe," He took a pocket watch from within the folds of his robe "that I have never been that punctual before." He looked immensely proud of himself. "Not one second wasted. How lovely." Pocketing the watch again, he looked at both the Winchesters and clapped his hands together.

"Now then I have arranged a Portkey, to take us to our next destination-"

"Yeah, about that. We've arranged to meet a colleague in the North of Surrey?" Sam looked apologetic, and shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn't know why he was acting so strange, Dumbledore made him feel like he was only 5 years old. Albus' face fell for a second.

"Not a problem my boy, give me the address, and we'll have you there in a trice." His hands dove once again into his robes, withdrawing a small, white (though rather grubby), chipped teacup.

"I don't think we have time for tea, Albus-"

"Oh not at all, I quite agree. But this is a portkey; this will transport us to where your friend is. The address if you would Dean?" He hesitantly handed over Ralph Fleetwood's address. Different scenarios of how this little teacup was going to take them transatlantic, floated through his head. Dumbledore scanned the piece of paper, and then withdrew a long slender piece of wood.

Must be his wand, Sam thought to himself.

"Portus." Dumbledore murmured softly. The teacup shook slightly and glowed a brilliant sky-blue, before settling once again in Dumbledore's palm, looking quite innocent. He set the utensil on the spotless hood of the Impala, and consulted his pocket watch again. Dean noted that there were no numbers, only what looked to be a miniature dial of the solar system. Thoroughly intrigued, he unconsciously stepped closer to get a better look at the peculiar contraption. Dumbledore chuckled mildly; Dean looks of childlike curiosity and wonder, looked out of place on his usually weary face.

"I find that consulting the stars, although considered folly by others, is a spectacular way of telling the time. Maybe you can acquire one for yourself in the future Mr. Winchester, as you seen to be rather taken with my own."

Dean flushed slightly and looked away, unfortunately catching Sam's eye, who was trying not to laugh outright. Dumbledore looked at the timepiece for the last time, and replaced it.

"If you would place a finger on the tea-cup boys, we shall be off shortly."

"Really?" Sam asked, a hint of sarcasm leaking through. Placing a finger on the teacup nonetheless, not wanting to be left behind if this magical piece of cutlery actually did manage, to take them to a different time zone. Dean gingerly placed his index finger on the light blue handle, his train of thought closely behind Sams.

"Really, Samuel. Three, two, one." Feeling as though an enraged werewolf had tackled his midriff, Sam was lurched upwards. His index and middle finger stuck to the evil teacup, as though permanently fused. He felt as though he was riding a rainbow in a hurricane. Again the slight swirling sensation settled itself in the pit of his stomach, though the washing machine motion his whole body was going through dwarfed it. He could see the Impala, though she looked stationary. Dean on the other hand, was going slightly green. His fear of flying not helping. Suddenly, the world righted itself.

If anyone in the sleepy suburban street, had bothered to look out of their curtains, this is what they would have witnessed. A long black muscle car, two young men, and an old man with an impressive white beard and green bathrobe, pushed into existence under the glare of a streetlamp. But of course no one, did. So the muggles of Little Tree, Surrey, slept on peacefully.

Dean's legs were slammed into the ground with incredible force, his knees buckled as he fell onto the hood of the Impala. He looked around for Sam, and found him spread-eagled on someone's front lawn.

"You alright there Sammy?" Dean called, huffing slightly.

"I'm super." He said resignedly, lifting an ok sign with his fingers.

"Well, wasn't that fun?" Dumbledore said, with all too much cheer, Dean thought. A string of none too pleasant curses muttered under his breath, as he shook off the jelly-legs feeling. He wandered awkwardly over to where Sam was still lying, and reached down to lift him up.

"You feel like you've just licked a battery?" Dean paused at the very random question.

"You, hit your head." Dean said rather patronisingly, heaving Sam's bulk up.

"No, Dean, I'm serious" Sam said his drawl more pronounced, as his panic levels began to rise. "It's like when Dumbledore was doing his popping thing, but on crack or something." Dean had thought that the strange, but oddly comforting weight of something but nothing in his torso, was some sort of effect of 'portkey' transport. It licked down his arms, and legs, all the way to his fingers. He had to admit though; he did feel like the Energiser Bunny. He wiggled his arms to get used to the feeling, and gave Sam a look of, we-talk-about-this-later.

"Well, this is your destination boys. I hate to rush you, but my colleagues are waiting for us." Dumbledore's voice was somewhat shakier, and he looked slightly pale. Dean looked ruffled at being told to hurry up, but Sam rushed forward.

"Dumble - Albus, are you ok?" Sam asked, concerned, putting a large hand on Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Quite alright, Samuel." Though he clearly wasn't.

"Please, call me Sam. It's so much easier." He led him to the hood of the impala, were Dumbledore promptly landed.

"It seems to me," he said, "that every time you're exposed to magic, your own dormant magic wakes up a little." He got to his feet, with more purpose than before, and looked intently between Sam and Dean.

"It's not just your magic that's growing either." He said with a slight chuckle. Where Dumbledore was nearly equal to Sam's 6"4 frame, he was now looking almost directly at Sam's neck. Said Winchester now stood at a very intimidating 6"8. Dean instantly checked his height against Sam, but found, to his dismay, that he had grown in proportion. He was still two inches shorter than his younger brother.

"This is a joke." He said with a huff, crossing his arms like a toddler who didn't get his way.

"Your bodies are accommodating your growing powers, I believe we will see the more drastic changes at the beginning, as your bodies will soak up any and all magic's."

"So you mean we could change physically?! Even more than we have!" Dean cried in outrage. Dumbledore just nodded sagely.

"Well, let's hope you guys can help us then." Sam shot, with a pointed look at the wizard.

"Of course Sam, I have the most accomplished wizards and witches in my teaching staff, and im sure that between us we can get to the bottom of this." This seemed to placate a very twitchy Dean, images of him running around with six arms, swimming in his mind.

"Does it affect you? You know, when we get thirsty for magic juice?" Dean asked, putting the dots together in him mind. "We don't take any of your magic out of you do we?" As much as he didn't trust the old man himself, he couldn't bring himself to steal his magic.

"No, I don't believe so." He stroked his shimmering white beard in thought. "It's just when your exposed to magic, your body absorbs it and it sort of unlocks the dams in your own magic. When these dams are let free, the power let out is quite extraordinary. I imagine you would feel quite energised?"

Dean nodded "It's like I've got liquid lightning running through me, feels like I wont need to sleep for a week."

"Don't test that theory." Sam said sternly, knowing full well that Dean would have given half the chance. Dean just held his arms up in surrender.

"Take it easy sasquatch. I wasn't planning to anyways." He eyed his little brother. "We had better not need special clothes for you, cause that will cost a freaking fortune."

"Magic works in wonderful ways Dean, why do you think you aren't being squeezed out of the clothes you're wearing now?"

"True. But my point still stands Bigfoot."

Sam just rolled his eyes. "Thanks for taking us here Dumbledore, we won't be long, an hour at least." Sam smiled gratefully, Dean grunted.

"Well, that is when I'll be back." The whirring in Dean's stomach was now replaced, with a sort of hum, like his magic was vibrating. With a small 'pop', Dumbledore vanished.

"Why's he going to London?" Sam asked.

"To Grimmauld Place, apparently." Dean quipped. An awkward silence fell.

"I think I've reached my download limit on upgrades." Dean said, a weary hint in his voice.

"Ditto."


"Right, Bobby said Number 6?" Sam said retrieving a piece of paper out of his magically enlarged, back pocket.

"Affirmative. Dude the air is thinner up here! You've been lying to me all these years. I'm hurt" Dean was revelling in his newly gained 4 inches, saying how everyone looks like ants from up there.

"That's cause they are ants Dean, now lets move on before Mr. Dumbledore gets back." Sam said patronisingly, steering Dean to a redbrick house by him elbow.

"Get off Sammy. Will this guy even be awake at 5 in the morning?"

"He's a hunter and anyways Bobby called ahead with a time anyways." Dean made a small 'o' of understanding, and carried on down the gravel path to the house.

"That only took me what 5 steps? That would have been at least 7 before." Sam rolled his eyes again, not wanting to burst his brothers bubble, by reminding him that was in fact, still shorter that him. He reached the red panel door, and rang the bell. He noted that he would have to duck even more, to get through the doorway.

The red oak swung back only seconds later to reveal a relatively short man, compared to the Winchesters recent growth spurt. Sharp, black eyes raked over their faces, from beneath a heavy brow. Curly grey hair, with streaks of black hung to just above his ample eyebrows. He had the look about him, that most seasoned hunters did, and it demanded respect. And you would give it, no questions asked.

"You Bobby's boys?" His American accent was clipped slightly, giving him a noticeable English lilt.

"He sent us, yeah." Dean said warily, looking for the demon traps, or shotgun, usually present when hunters met up. Instead, a slash of ice-cold holy water covered their faces.

"Christo." The man grunted, for good measure. When the men didn't start screaming and smoking, Ralph Fleetwood stepped back grudgingly to allow them access.

"Bobby said I'd be seeing you boys. He had me gather some stuff for you." Ralph extended his arm towards the living room, never taking his eyes off the boys.

"Yes, thank you. We greatly appreciate any help we can get on this one sir." Sam said, he ducked his head to fold through the small, red door. Dean hacked up a cough, which sounded remarkably like 'kiss ass'. Sam glared daggers at him, and followed the seasoned hunter, into his cluttered and dusty living room.

"Looks just like Bobby's," Dean commented nonchalantly, peering over the bookshelves bursting with books. Which were significantly tidier than Bobby's, which resembled a war zone.

"Hmph, that boy learned a lot of things from me. Stacking his shelves wasn't one of them if I remember correctly." Dean just chortled in agreement.

"Mr, Fleetwood is there any information you can give us on Albus Dumbledore, and Hogwarts? Especially one Harry Potter?" Sam enquired tentatively, not quite sure how much Bobby had told the man.

"One, call me Ralph. Two, you boys have gone down the rabbit hole on this one, for sure." Ralph ran his scarred hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. He walked over to a faded red sofa and flopped down, little dust mites pooling out from under him. He indicated that Sam and Dean do the same. Which they tried to do, but with their newly acquired inches, sitting on a low sofa had the result of their knees around their ears.

"How deep does this rabbit hole go then?" Dean asked a little apprehensively. Not sure, whether or not he wanted his answer.

"Deep enough. Harry Potters got the most dangerous Dark Lord in wizarding history after him, with the weight of saving the world from impending doom on his shoulders. Dumbledore's got a secret army to battle said overlord, and has a few sandwiches short of a picnic. And Hogwarts is where it all kicks off, housing the aforementioned hero and crack head. So yeah, you have a pretty deep, trippy, winding rabbit hole to fall down." Ralph drawled, his voice dripping with dark humour. As if the Winchesters predicament, caused him personal pleasure.

"So, um. Do you have any information that could help us along?" Dean asked, with trepidation, dreading Ralph's next answer.

"Watch out for Severus Snape, Dumbledore's pet" Fleetwood said, a dark expression on his face. Dean barely contained his snort at the mans name, really these people had no sense in names.

"I've heard he's quite the tattle-tale, for both sides of this war." Sam looked shocked.

"But Dumbledore still keeps him close?" Dean chocked out.

"Your friend close, your enemies closer, springs to mind." Ralph said with some amusement.

"There not much I can tell you that's not in the books I've got for you boys. Except for, keep your wits about you, and an open mind. Never take anything at face value; the wizarding world is fickle to its core. Make sure you know the truth of what our dealing with." With that sombre note hanging in the air, Ralph went over to a small circular table, with a hiking bag on it. The poor table was groaning, under the weight of the bag.

"In here," Ralph began, heaving the bag off the table, "is the information you'll need to get through the wizarding world without acting like complete numpties." The bag slid off the table and landed with a loud thump, the floorboards creaking wearily.

Dean eyed the bag that had made a dent in the floor. "I'm sure boys of your size, will have no trouble carrying this to the car." Ralph eyed them with amusement.

"Thanks so much Ralph, we'll be sure to get the books back to you." Sam said itching to start reading.

"There's not just books in there, so be careful were you leave it." Ralph said, threateningly. Dean rasied is hand in a salute.

"Scout's honour, sir!" Ralph just gave him a levelled look, before continuing.

"I've had my ear in the wizarding world for quite some time. I've never heard of them even considering approaching normal people for help, let alone hiring them. What's so special about you two?" Sam's heart sped up. What were they going to say? They couldn't just out and say 'well you know we may or may not be the first demon/human/wizard hybrid, with hunter knowledge to boot. Not to mention charming good look…'

"Sam here is a genius with these computer things, you know the ones? Big, shiny, scary things? He's an absolute wizard, pardon the pun." Dean added cutting through Sam's minor panic attack.

"Apparently they needed a complete boffin, to work some magic/techno hybrid. Sam was their man it seems!"

Ralph didn't buy it for one minute, but humoured Dean by looking mildly impressed with the audacity of his downright lie.

"If it's none of my business it's none of my business. No need to sass me boy." Dean just held up his hand in defeat.

"If that's all, we'll get going. Thanks a lot Ralph for the equipment, we'll be sure to bring it back safe. Won't we Dean?" Giving said Winchester a sharp jab in the ribs.

"Like new." Dean piped up, with a cheesy sales-assistant grin on his face. With that Sam, heaved the bulging bag onto his back, and dragged Dean out of the house.


"My, my aren't we strong Sammy! Or is that just the magic juice? I'm sure you were never this macho before…a flick on the head and you were out for the count. Amazing!" Dean guffawed, putting on his best Dumbledore impression.

"I'm sure you were never this tall Dean, but alas, you're still not tall enough." Sam said patronisingly, letting the bag drop onto the backseat of the Impala. Dean just growled, at the abuse he and his car was getting. Suddenly he froze. His eyes darted from side to side, Sam was wondering what he was doing, but soon realised. The humming of were he assumed his 'magic' was, had started again. Rivers of information coursed through his head. No words were formed but more like feelings and pictures, like the feeling of wisdom and bright colours, representing Albus, and the countdown of seconds. 3, 2, 1.

'pop'

"Hello boys, got what you came for did we?"

"Well that was interesting." Dean muttered darkly. Sam nodded vaguely, hearing but not understanding the question.

"Excellent, we'll be making good time." Albus produced the same dreaded teacup and set it, once again, on the hood of the Impala. Dean visibly paled.

"Not that thing again…"

"Out journey won't be as prolonged this time, Dean. As our destination is but a few hours away." Albus explained, as he tried to placate a clearly agitated Dean.

"Then can't we drive there?" Dean nearly whined, sounding a bit like a five year old.

"Now, where is the fun in that?" Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eyes. Sam just rolled his eyes, and placed one of deans protesting fingers to the teacup.

"Come on Sam! Who knows we could end up with four arms by the time we get there!" Dean continued to protest, frantically grabbing at straws. Any reason to not portkey to where they were headed.

"If we don't do it now Dean, then you'll find some other excuse as to why we shouldn't go full stop. And we don't know what's happening to us, these people might. So deal." Dean glared daggers at Sam, thoroughly hating his put down.

"Next stop, head-quarters." Albus informed the men jovially, placing one, slender digit to the cracked rim.

"Three, two one."

Dean swore he was going to kill that jolly old man.


Well, that was a long time between updates. I'm purposefully stopping it here, cause I have a great urge to write when they meet the Order, and if I stop now, ill want to come back and write it soon. Meaning sooner updates. Win-win situation really.