Summary: When Hogwarts received two new professors from the fated land of America, everybody was curious. But no one was more curious then one Harry Potter. A series of stories about Dean and Sam Winchester as professors at Hogwarts.

A/N: The Supernatural/Harry Potter crossover fics generally tend to be slash, or romance, or something similar of the sort. I would have expected tons of Wee!chesters being enrolled into Hogwarts, or even Angels somehow being in there, but so far, I've only come across one. So this is my own contribution to this xover. Because it needs more supernatural magic. XD

- ONE -

What Makes Us Evil

Harry really liked the new professors. They were cool, knew what they were doing, and were real, but most of all, Harry liked them because they treated him not like a celebrity, nor like some random other kid - they treated him like a normal boy who had too much on his plate and a evil wizard after his life. Not many people could do that, so Harry was very very happy.

"And they have really interesting accents, too." Harry relayed to the little garden snake he was speaking to in the Quidditch Pitch. "Nothing like how we speak, they think we speak strange."

The little snake curled into itself slightly, lifting its head up as it stared at Harry. "Zeyy do nott trrrouble yoouuu?"

It really said something about your life when the only person who'd ask such a nice question was a garden snake.

"No," Harry replied. "They're completely unbiased. They make sure I pay attention, do my homework, everything, but they make sure everybody else does the same as well."

"And youurr frieeendzzz?"

"Who? Ron and Hermione? Ron keeps asking them things about America and muggle inventions for his dad. Hermione keeps asking them how they know so much about everything if they're just muggles, and she wants to know everything about them. You should have seen Draco-"

"-Errr, Harry...-"

"-The first time Professor Winchester, the older one, took of points from Slytherin because Draco and his gang were talking, Draco said-"

"-Eeeerrr, Harryyyyy...-"

"-'My father will hear of this!' and Dean, that's the older Winchester's name, just looked at him like he was something really weird and looked at the other Professor Winchester, Sam, and said 'Hear that, Sammy? His father will hear of this – god, I can't get enough of these accents, man.'-"


Harry paused, blinking down at the little snake called Balza, wondering why the snake was moving his head in jerky movements to the left. It took a while, but he soon got the clue that he should look over his shoulder, and with the strange question of whether or not he was imagining that nervously afraid expression on Balza's face (it was hard to guess when said expression was on a snake's face), Harry took a slow peak over his shoulder.

And blinked.

Standing there, high up, looming on top of him, were two very distinctive figures with broad shoulders. If Harry tilted his head up a bit, he could see the shadow of their faces, made dark by the sun glaring right behind them, and the Boy Who Lived felt a shiver go down his shoulder in intimidation. The older of the professors had his arms crossed across his chest, legs apart, shoulders squared, while the younger of the pair had his hands stuffed in the pocket of his jeans underneath the black uniform robes of Hogwarts. Both were looking down at him from their far too long heights, and Harry didn't have to look back at Balza to know the snake had made its fastest escape ever.

They'd heard him speaking Parseltongue. The professor Winchesters had just heard him speaking Parseltongue.

Well, if they didn't find him a freak and start treating him differently now, Harry would eat a golden snitch.

Panicking slightly, Harry turned around and raised up his hands, waving them about as if trying to dispel any possible suspicion in the air. He smiled nervously, trying to pretend nothing had happened, and craned his neck upwards from his seated position on the grass to see his professor's face.

"Eer, hello professors! Fancy meeting you here – is there anything I can help you with?"

The shorter of the teachers snorted, shifting in a manner far more intimidating then should have been possible from an apparent muggle. But it was the taller that answered, after shooting a look to his brother.

"Actually, yeah. We were just wondering, were you actually just talking to that snake right now?"

Great! They really did see him speaking Parseltongue!

"Err, talk?" Harry squeaked, nervously looking anywhere but at his actual teachers.

"Yeah, talk." The older Winchester said. "You know, having a conversation, getting nice and close, hissing with each other? Because it freakin' well seemed like that snake was actually replying to you, which is a whole lot of weird to add on to all of this."

"Oh be quiet, Dean."

"No, Sammy! Non-violent ghosts? Flying broomsticks? Moving pictures? Why are we even here thinking this is weird? Just another notch on Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"


The elder Winchester huffed, unfolding his arms and hiding them in the pockets of his leather jacket. Harry blinked as the other Winchester turned to look at him, and now that they were both standing differently, Harry could see the open, non judgemental expression carved all over the younger Winchester's face, eyes wide and large and eyebrows furrowed upwards.

"Don't listen to him, Harry, he's just having a bad day. But were you really talking to the snake? That's really incredible, is there an actual spell or potion you take for that?"

Surprised, and wondering whether they were pulling his leg, Harry shook his head slowly. "Er, no, actually. It's an ability only some witches and wizards have – it's called Parseltongue." He admitted, knowing they'd be able to get the information anyway if he lied. "It just allows you to speak with snakes and understand their language."

The younger of the professors nodded his head in understanding. "So it only works with snakes, huh? You can't speak with any other animal?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, only snakes. It's similar to Metamorphagus people, or Seers. People who speak Parseltongue are called Parselmouths – and usually, it's considered a mark of a Dark Wizard, sir."

That had the older Winchester perking up, a dark look passing across his face. "Dark Wizards? You mean the bad guys? Why? Do most of your bad guys tend to speak it or something?"

Wincing slightly, Harry nodded very slowly, the notion of burying his own grave doubling greatly. "Er, yes sir." He answered meekly. "Salazar Slytherin, the founder of Slytherin, could speak it, and it's said some of his descendants have inherited it. Lord Voldermort can also speak it, along with others."

"Since it's genetics, does that mean you're a descendant of the founder of Slytherin?" The older Winchester asked, gaining a look from his brother.

Harry didn't blame the younger brother, sometimes, it was hard to remember the playful, simple worded, older Winchester was quicker then most people. Still,Harry balked at the question and the whole notion of being related to anybody that had to do with Slytherin. Furiously, he shook his head, refusing to even entertain the idea that maybe he was.

"No sir, Salazar Slytherin probably wasn't the only Parselmouth in his time that might have gone on to have family, sir."

"Huh," Professor Winchester said, looking over at his brother. "Well too bad Sammy here can't get his geek on and have a wonderful adventure. And it would have been so useful to have a snake-charmer in the family."

The second professor frowned, giving his brother what Ron called The Look, and what older Professor Winchester called The Bitch Face (never in front of Professor McGonagall though), and Harry just stared up at them not understanding their apparent ease with everything he'd just told them. Apparently, his face must have been screaming his thoughts, for elder Winchester looked at him and snorted again, as if finding this incredibly amusing.

"What? You thought we judge people just because of their genetics? It isn't what you can do that makes you evil, kid, it's what you do with them."

Harry nodded dumbly, not at all missing the sad but thankful look the younger Winchester gave his brother, then quickly stood up, dust himself off and left in a hurry once they told him to hurry up and get back to class.

Yup, Harry thought, definitely like the professor Winchesters.

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