THE JOYS OF FLYING
Chapter I
Being in his second year was no better than his first and it couldn't get much worse. Having spent 8 nights in detention, within the first three weeks of September, he was yet again making his way towards the trophy room for another session of polishing.
Of all the punishments, spending the evening in the company of Filch (in John's opinion) was the very worst. To be sent to Filch rather than doing lines meant that you had blown up the toilets or pushed a first year off the roof, and although John's crime was a little more lowly than this, he did have to agree that you couldn't possibly do anything worse. Second period that day, during the usual disastrous potions lesson John, again, made a slight error of judgement and accidentally created a highly explosive hair dye. When said potion did explode it caused the unforgiving potions Master's hair to turn a pleasant shade of rose - much to the delight of the rest of the class. So here he was now slowly making his way through the Castle towards what promised to be a delightful evening.
If he hadn't been wallowing so much in his own misfortune, he would have noticed a tall raven haired boy also walking against the flow of students heading towards their respective common rooms. The boy walked quickly and swept round the corners with a flourish of his cloak reminiscent of the great Professor Snape himself.
He finally walked up to the door and stood beside the vaguely familiar boy. It was not unusual to have company but one was never introduced to one's fellow troublemaker, which is why John was quite taken aback when the boy turned and held out his hand, "Holmes. Sherlock Holmes."
"John… Watson," he replied, gingerly taking the taller boys hand. Just at that moment, saving any awkwardness that Sherlock seemed to be oblivious to, the door swung open to reveal the caretaker. "Ah, nice to see you again Watson," he drawled before adding, "You know the drill." Chucking a cloth and pot of polish towards him, he caught them -just- and made his way over to start from where he left off the previous evening.
"Holmes. Pleasure," Filch appeared to mock, "I want that shelf spotless, no magic, in two hours or else your uncle shall be informed." Filch laughed, throwing the boy a his own pot of polish and rag.
After the two of them had been polishing for twenty minutes a loud crashing from above meant that they were left by the caretaker as he ran from the room muttering angrily under his breath.
"Right, well, with that sorted." Sherlock produced his wand and proceeded to polish the rest of his shelf with magic.
"When did you learn that?" John asked, hoping to learn this soon.
But disappointingly Sherlock announced that he had read it in a book last year and had forgotten to delete it, whatever that meant.
"So," unsure what to say John tried to make small talk, "I haven't seen you around much, what year are you in?"
"I am of the same age as a second year but take the majority of my classes with the third years and spend my free time in the library. I am in your potions class though because my uncle keeping me back due to spite. And yes before you ask, Severus Snape is my uncle, unfortunately. He has never forgiven me for following in my mother's footsteps and becoming a Ravenclaw." He revealed.
"So, if you're in my potions, I take it you saw what happened today." John sheepishly said.
"Yes, a rather unfortunate series of mistakes which I have to say lead to a fantastic new potion, I must try and recreate it some time." Sherlock mused.
"What?" He had not been expecting such a positive reply, "Nothing I ever do ends well though, the only magical thing I can do is ride a broom."
"Well that is to be expected when you have little control of your magic"
"Excuse me?"
"You are what muggles call a 'late bloomer'. You didn't gain your magic until your 11th birthday which just happens to be close to the start of term and you were injured so you had little time to 'test drive' it." Sherlock revealed.
"How… How do you know that? I haven't told anyone that." John stammered.
"Well I deduced several things through observing you whilst we were polishing.
"You are left handed, that is clear, however you preference your right hand. From the limited movement of your left arm I can see that it was a fractured collar bone with muggle surgery but you haven't had time to magically heal it because of your struggles with your school work. You don't get out much at home because of your sister. As it commonly known around school, your sister has drinking problems due to the disappointment shown by your father as she possesses no magic. You didn't go out in order to avoid your father as you hadn't received your letter. The only time you went out would have been a big occasion, so your birthday. You received the injury by falling onto your hand, and as this must have been the day you got your letter, this will have been the day that you first showed magic. Compiling all of this I concluded that you ran out into the road through upset at the lack of letter, straight into the path of a car. Instead of being hit you managed to levitate over and continue up and over a house where you no longer had the energy to keep yourself up so fell breaking your arm. To put it simply." Sherlock finished.
"I… how did...? That was amazing!" John managed to get out.
"Oh. People at this point usually use some rather fruitful profanities." Sherlock commented, rather glad that this wasn't the case.
Still being in second year, the inevitable question was then asked, "Do you want to be my friend?" and as neither of them had any real friends Sherlock's reply was, "I think that will be good idea."
At this moment Filch, fed up of nasty children for the evening chucked them out, both of them running out before he changed his mind.
Walking past the main hall a voice drawled toward them, "What are you doing out of bed Holmes?"
John shot round, standing to attention whereas Sherlock slowly turned on his heel. "Hello Uncle, we are heading from the detention that we completed and are now heading to our dorms. It is 3 minutes until the curfew so I would let us go before we break any more school rules." Barely waiting for his Uncle to scowl, Sherlock grabbed John and pulled him up the stairs and around the corner.
When out of sight they both broke into fits of laughter, "I've never stood up to anyone before," John exclaimed, "I think I'm going to like being your friend!"
"Well I have a proposition for you." Sherlock smiled "Meet me tomorrow at breakfast and we can discuss it."
"Oh, okay. Well, see you in the morning. Friend!" Now intrigued John grinned at his new friend and walked towards his dorm as Sherlock turned towards his.
As usual, John dragged himself out of bed and sloppily got dressed. The rest of his dorm mates were already at breakfast, they never woke him because they mostly forgot he was even in Gryffindor.
He ran down to the great hall and stopped in the doorway. He spotted a shock of curly black hair poking over a huge book and strode over, ignoring the mocking, but even he thought it was a bit ridiculous that him, the most unintelligent person in the school, was sitting at the Ravenclaw table.
"Morning." He greeted, grabbing a piece of toast.
Sherlock almost threw his book across the table in excitement, "John, I have a brilliant idea!"
"Really?" John mumbled. It was much too early to be that excited.
"I can teach you how to control your magic!" He looked extremely chuffed with this idea and John really couldn't refuse the offer.
"What's the catch?" John heard himself say.
"I just want to be a good friend and I've read that they help each other." Sherlock frowned.
"Right well there's more to it than that but we can work on it." John found his naivety sweet.
"I shall take notes!" Sherlock announced.
"Um, no, rule number one – no don't write this down. A friendship needs to develop itself, don't force it, don't try too hard. Also, each person has to have equal involvement, I shan't be talking notes so you won't either." John explained.
"Oh, okay. Well I need to finish reading this before DADA, so if you wouldn't mind… I'll see you in potions." He already had his head back in his book.
John smiled. Sherlock's attitude would have been considered rude to most but as the books title was 'Quidditch and its finer details' he just smiled and got up to get his books, leaving the boy with his new found interest, John!
Charms first thing had been a disaster to say the least. Flitwick did try his hardest but John had proceeded to propel the professor out the door and through a very old painting causing the occupant to scream so loudly that the professor was rendered unconcious. Those 20 points taken were probably quite reasonable.
He finally made his way down to potions and couldn't help but smile when he saw Sherlock sat in the seat next to his. None of the other Gryffindors wanted to sit anywhere near his cauldron.
"Watson. 15 points from Gryffindor for being late. Stay behind to explain, but for now get on with this calming draft." Snape pointed to the blackboard. That quickly wiped the smile off his face and he sat down rather sharpish to begin.
20 minutes in and the usual low murmur of conversation was creating an atmosphere that John loved to work in. No pressure of answering a question or that uncomfortable silence which felt like everyone was looking over his shoulder. Having said that though...
"Holmes, why are you sat at the front next to the class idiot?" Snape sneered, glancing at the liquid within John's cauldron.
"I couldn't see the board from the side and I have agreed to help John as we are now friends." Sherlock recited.
"You being 'friends'," Snape spat," will not improve his capabilities but will in fact hinder yours. Be careful boy, you have already made one major life mistake, you do not want to make another."
"I'm glad I'm not a rotten Slytherin, and John is no less of a mistake as your hair." He stood eye to eye with his Uncle before turning to John. "I am so sorry John; I can't believe I just brought you down to that level." How dare he insult his friend!
Before Snape could curse Sherlock all the way up to the headmaster's office however, John made a slight error – only slight… ish.
Sat in shock, John had continued to stir his nearly completed daft over ten times what was instructed which resulted (much like last time) in a small explosion.
This time however, his draft was very good but in stirring it too much he concentrated it. A lot. As it came into contact with their skin it immediately rendered them unconscious.
But, as John later would recall, causing the great professor Snape to fall asleep during a lesson was the height of calmness!
"And I want to see a perfect charm from you on Wednesday!" Professor Flitwick called from his hospital bed as John and Sherlock, along with their potions professor, escaped from the hospital wing three days after the fateful lesson.
"I shall see you tonight for detention." Snape whispered before marching down to the dungeons.
John and Sherlock walked in silence.
"I'm sorry…" They both blurted at once.
"What are you sorry for, I distracted you whilst you made a perfect calming draft. And I must say, it was absolutely brilliant!" Sherlock grinned.
"Well I suppose I did take down the all-powerful Professor Snape," John realised, "but thanks for standing up for me, another friend behaviour to tick off your list Sherlock. I am slightly scared for this detention though; he never gives them personally."
"It will be fine, at least we're together and then tomorrow we can start your tutoring and teach you that charm." Sherlock reassured him.
After supper, Sherlock and John walked to the dungeons, towards their impending doom.
Waiting until the second hand on his watch reached 12 Sherlock knocked on the door of the potions room. "Come," a voice called as the door swung open.
They both walked to the front of the classroom and sat at their desk which had two cauldrons set up.
"You are to create a laughing potion, complex and easy to get wrong. When finished you shall sample it yourselves whilst I give a drop or two to the Headmaster." Snape almost gleefully told them.
John's heart sank. He was going to die of his own stupid hand and kill the Headmaster at the very same time.
"Copy my every move." Sherlock whispered.
"Not a word from either of you or I shall make you collect the ingredients yourselves from the forbidden forest." Snape snapped. And so they began.
For two straight hours Sherlock would complete a step and John would copy not long after. They both soon had created similar looking potions and stood back waiting for their professor to finish marking.
Slowly standing, Snape headed towards them with two small vials. Filling these he then passed each of them cups of pumpkin juice motioning for them to add some potion, which they both did. He then headed to the fireplace with the vials and before flooing to the Headmasters office he said one word. "Drink."
'Oh God', John thought as he threw it back just moments after Sherlock.
"Sherlock!" John turned to see his friend doubled over in what appeared to be pain, but before he could help he was overwhelmed by an uncontrollable urge to laugh that bubbled out and presented itself, much like Sherlock, as a giggle.
After again spending time in the hospital wing, only this time with Dumbledore, the boys were given half a day to catch up on missed lessons. This only took a few hours (thanks to Sherlock), leaving their evening free to practise for the next day's Charms lesson.
The charm in question was the 'silence' charm.
Placing a small frog in front of John, Sherlock proceeded to demonstrate the correct wand movement. "See John. It is more of a stabbing motion. Just don't prod the frog…" John overshot, prodding the frog which proceeded to swell to an enormous size.
"Ruducio!" Sherlock cried.
"Sorry." John whispered, waiting for a telling off. But there came none. Peering up, John saw Sherlock looking puzzled.
"Why did you flinch?"
Surprised, John replied cautiously, "I usually get shouted at and then everyone laughs at me, especially when I have to then stay behind to do my homework because I can't do it myself. Even then I end up with a D. The highest I've ever got was a P," mumbling the last bit, ashamed.
"I've had P's before." Sherlock admitted.
"No you haven't!" John retorted, believing him to be lying in order to make him feel better.
"I have. In order for me to take most of my classes with the year above I had to take flying lessons with them or else my timetable wouldn't work. And I am quite ashamed to admit that I don't know one end of the broom from the other." Sherlock accounted.
John slowly smiled. "If you can teach me how to do this charm well by the end of the hour then I'll teach you to fly," he bet.
Sherlock paced before grinning. "You're on!"
As it turned out the bet paid off, both trying hard to please each other. John managed to perform the charm (on the quietest frog in the room) without backfire, which was an astonishing feet for him and meant that he could for once teach someone something instead of the other way round.
Teaching Sherlock to fly was defiantly going to be a challenge, John soon discovered. As soon as his friend mounted the broom he managed to slide straight off the end! So the next day instead of heading towards the Quidditch pitch for a lesson, John had other plans.
"Right," John declared, "you're coming with me." He grabbed Sherlock's hand and dragged him towards the lake, sitting him under a large tree.
"Now lay back and close your eyes. I want you to relive your happiest moment. No talking, just lay there for a few minutes." John instructed him as he joined him on the grass.
After the few minutes were up John dragged Sherlock back up towards the pitch.
"Now I want you to sit on the broom, close your eyes and imagine that moment again. Forget you're flying and just imagine you're back back in that moment again." So Sherlock sat on the broom and closed his eyes, after a few seconds his feet had left the ground and he was starting to rise slowly and steadily. John hopped on his broom and rose with him.
When they a few metres up John again spoke, "Sherlock, when you're ready, I want you to open your eyes. Don't panic, focus and lean forward slightly, okay?" Shelock nodded and opened his eyes, staring staight into the deep blue pair in front of him, registering that he was off the ground. Leaning forwards gently he managed to move, gliding smoothly towards his friend. He broke into a smile, "thank you!" he whispered and John just smiled back.
They spent a few more hours on the pitch until sherlock could confidently ride across from one end of the pitch to the other and land with ease. They finally made their way back to their dorms the happiest they'd felt in a long time.
Over the year, with help from Sherlock, John managed to maintain his grades at atleast an A but mainly E's.
Sherlock has gained confidence with his flying and with tutoring from John he was begining to surpass his classmates.
- 2 weeks before the end of term -
"Sherlock!" John raced over to the corner of the library, "I did it!"
"I said you would, I couldn't see why you wouldn't," Sherlock peered over his book.
"I'm sorry I didn't let you watch but I really didn't want you to see me fail." John muttered.
"You really need to get over this failing complex," Sherlock started to tidy his stuff away, "you've had no bad grades for months."
"I know, I know. But now I definatly know I can do it." He smiled.
Madame Pince called from across the room, "Watson!" He shot around, "you know the rules, not even Chasers are allowed to bring brooms into the library", she smiled.
John grinned back, grabbed Sherlock's hand and they both spent the evening flying across the grounds in celebration.