When Harry Met Sam & Dean

Sam was sitting at the table in the bunker, with a map spread out in front of him. He didn’t notice the owl that entered, as he scribbled notes of where the Darkness may be heading, based on the various, suspicious news stories he and Dean had stumbled upon.

As he scribbled “multiple, sudden, unexplainable decapitations” over Des Moines, an envelope fell – from seemingly nowhere – right on top of his note.

“What the hell?” he wondered out loud. He looked around, but spotting nothing out of the ordinary, he focused his attention on the envelope. He ran his finger across the red, wax seal and noticed the tiny letters embedded. He raised it closer to his face and then dropped it suddenly.


Dean came running from the other room, looking both perplexed and proud. Sam shoved the envelope into his hands, and shot him a frustrated look.

“What is this?” asked Dean.

“Like you don’t know?” said Sam.

“No, seriously? What the hell is a Hogwarts?” he rebutted.

Sam studied Dean’s face for signs of lying.

“I thought you’d sat on the whoopee cushion I hid in your chair” said Dean, reaching his hand under the seat, only to find the cushion deflated. “Wait. You sat on it and you didn’t even tell me?” He looked disappointed.

Sam shook his head. “Seriously? You still think whoopee cushions are funny? I sat on it like 3 hours ago. And what the hell Dean? How did you get this letter to fall in front of me out of nowhere?”

“Dude, it wasn’t me. I already told you. If it bugs you so much, why don’t you open it?”

Sam still wasn’t sure if Dean was just playing along really well, or if he really had nothing to do with it. He picked up the letter and looked at it somewhat longingly. How much of his childhood had he wished Hogwarts were real? Had he written that in a journal somewhere?

He carefully broke the seal, and pulled out the pressed parchment.

Dean, growing impatient, urged him to “just read it already. Come on.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Dear Mr. Sam and Mr. Dean,”

Dean rolled his eyes and choked back a laugh.

“We would be forever in your debt should you choose to accept our recently vacated Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching post. Please find an enclosed list of all necessary planning books and equipment. Term begins Sept 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall.”

Sam put the letter on the table and avoided making eye contact with Dean. Several uncomfortable minutes of silence passed before Dean asked, “so…where exactly is this place?”

“Are you kidding me?” asked Sam. “What world are you living in? Have you never heard of the Harry Potter franchise?”

“You mean that kid who runs around pointing a stick at a snake-man?”

“Yeah. Him.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Alright. Where did this come from?” He picked up the letter and crumpled it in his fist. “We don’t have time for this. We have bigger things to worry about like – oh, I don’t know – the Darkness?”

Sam felt his face go hot. This was Dean’s joke, and now he was trying to give a lecture on not wasting time?

“Whatever, Dean. Just go back to whatever you were doing. This has been an epic waste of time. How about you stop trying to play pranks and actually pay attention to the Darkness YOU released into this world?”

Dean turned around to make his way through the kitchen before winding back into the room he’d come from, when he felt something hit the back of his head.

“What the hell, Sam?” he called out. He turned around to find a small box of jelly-beans on the floor, with Sam nowhere in sight. “I guess there are worse things you could throw out me when you’re mad!!!” Dean shouted.

He picked up the box and poured a few beans directly into his mouth. After a few seconds of chewing, he spit them out. “These taste like vomit!” he shouted again, towards the direction he thought Sam might be.

Dean tossed the box of candy in the trash when he heard Sam shout from another room, “we’ve got another one!” He made his way towards his brother’s voice, finding him in the library. “Well read it, why don’t you” he grunted.

Sam peeled the letter open and read it out loud:

“I was told you two were dense, but let’s not play games. We have a paying job waiting for you. Do you really think you’re the only two hunting the Darkness? Please meet Mr. Potter on August 20th, at Ollivander’s Wand Shop in a so-called Harry Potter World in Orlando Florida. He will help you buy what you need, and arrive at Hogwarts from there.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Well, it can’t hurt to show up.”

Dean looked him over and asked, “Did it say a paying job? What do they mean by Dark Arts?”

Sam walked over to the bookshelf, and peeled 8 large books from it. He half-slammed, half-dropped the stack in front of Dean.

“Guess you better read up.”


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