Sherlock already had a feeling that his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be spent in a similar way to how he had spent his Summer; away from people, holed up in a corner somewhere, reading a book that was far more advanced than any of the other students in his year. He was 'quite the independent child', as his mother had put it while talking to one of his equally haughty relatives, not feeling the compulsion to form friendships, unless they were foreseeably useful in the long run. That was why it came as no surprise that he was already being singled out before they even reached the ancient castle that he would be calling home for the next six, if not seven years.
"Why are you reading that?' asked the insufferable, dark-haired boy sat opposite him in the once peaceful compartment he had found for himself on the Hogwarts express, 'You're too young to be reading third year stuff."
Sherlock sighed, his voice feeling frustratingly croaky from not being used. He had made it quite clear to this boy, as well as the other two equally as dull first years in this compartment that he was in no mood to make conversation as soon as they entered, ignoring their greetings and attempts at enticing him into a discussion about some mundane topic.
"Hey, I'm talking to you,' said the boy, irritating Sherlock even further, 'Are you deaf or something?"
"No, I'm just choosing to ignore you,' Sherlock said, wishing with all his might that they would leave him alone.
"That's rude,' barked a girl with wild hair and Sherlock saw her cross her arms as she said it, 'He was just trying to be friendly."
"I don't need friends,' Sherlock replied hastily, trying as hard as he could to concentrate on how to evade being captured by Grindylows; he had big plans to have a conversation with at least one mermaid by the end of his first year and these imbeciles were making it substantially more difficult than it needed to be to absorb such information.
The girl huffed in response while the other boy fumed.
"That's horrible, you freak!' the boy exclaimed, just as their door opened, revealing the last person Sherlock had wanted to see.
"What's this then?' the boy asked, looking around the compartment at the unflinching Sherlock and his now-wary companions, 'A little disorder already. It's a shame you're not sorted into houses, otherwise I would have had to already deduct points."
He paused for dramatic effect, causing Sherlock to sniff in disbelief.
"No pity,' he continued, 'I'm sure there will be more...opportunities for the appropriate reprimanding later this year."
"Mycroft, leave,' Sherlock said as dangerously as he could, not looking at his brother but holding tightly onto his book, 'I don't need you to interfere."
Sherlock couldn't see it but he could feel Mycroft's smirk at his little brother's words.
"Very well,' he said, turning around, 'Do try not to get into too much trouble before the day is up."
Sherlock let out an amused huff at his brother's word of caution. Mycroft had received his letter from Dumbledore during the holidays, complete with a shining Head Boy badge that he had no trouble showing off all around the house. Mummy was so proud that her perfect Slytherin son had already managed to weasel himself into a position of power, even if it was only at Hogwarts and not the Ministry.
The rest of the train journey was spent in awkward silence, although Sherlock could feel the third girl, the one who hadn't spoken to him at all, looking at him all the time, only stopping to stare out the window at the green scenery passing them by.
Sherlock was glad to reach Hogsmede and get away from all the people who were already making his time here a misery. He spotted a huge, hairy-looking man in the distance, his booming voice announcing that all the first years should follow him. Sherlock was pushed along with the crowd of other, overly-excited first years. He debated catching up with the man and asking about his half-giant, half-wizard status but decided against it: he had the rest of the year to pursue his interest in the cross-breeding of magical creatures and wizards. He boarded a boat with several other first years and looked across the lake, watching out for shadows of the merfolk that Mycroft had told him so many tales about. He didn't see any but was amazed by the shining castle, looming over the lake, it's beauty reflected perfectly on the calm surface. Sherlock knew that this would be what happened but knowing did not prepare him for the pure splendor of seeing the castle in all its glory.
The boat trip was over sooner than he had hoped and soon he was forced to file into a vague line with the other first years. Nervousness permeated the air, showing through on a few faces of those who were clearly muggleborns, if their open-fear was anything to go by.
Even Sebastian Wilkes, someone Sherlock had known to be pureblood from his early years seemed to be sweating a little, his face paling by the second.
"Now, please behave First Years,' shouted a teacher at the top of the stairs, raising her hands to calm everyone down, 'I am Professor McGonnagall. I will not be tolerating any tomfoolery from any of you."
Her sharp eyes seemed to fall on Sherlock's own, as if Mycroft had already warned her of his occasional experiments that didn't go quite according to plan.
"There are four houses,' she continued, 'Gryffindor, of which I am head of house, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. You will be sorted into one of these houses and remain with them for the rest of your time at Hogwarts."
Without being sorted, Sherlock already knew which house he would be in. His family's ancient history of pure-blood wizardry and his brother's sorting already confirmed that he would be in Slytherin. It was merely a formality to sort him. McGonnagall continued.
"Once dinner is finished, you will be escorted by your house's prefects to your common room and sleeping quarters. Now, let us enter the Great Hall."
With that, she turned around, walked to the large pair of solid wood doors and pulled them open, revealing the grandeur of the Great Hall. Sherlock took note of the ceiling. It was clear, the stars shining so bright but feeling so much closer than they did inside. Sherlock only stopped looking when he walked into someone, not bothering to apologise for the action. Instead, he fixed his vision on the decrepit hat perched on an equally-decrepit stool. Mycroft had refused to tell him how you were sorted into your house but seeing this, it all made sense.
"When I call you up,' McGonnagall announced, making several of the students jump, 'Please come up here and take a seat. Amelia Andrews."
Amelia, a tall girl with a wide mouth and short, blonde hair made her way up to the stool, taking a seat warily before the professor placed the hat over her head.
"Gryffindor!' the hat yelled, making her smile and make her way over to the cheering house of red and gold.
Several other names were called before McGonnagall got to 'Sherlock Holmes'. There was a small whisper, no doubt because of Mycroft and the surname that was well-known throughout the families who valued pure-blood more than anything else.
Sherlock walked up to the stool, wanting to get the process over with as soon as possible.
"Slytherin, slytherin, slytherin,' he thought.
"Slytherin eh? the hat asked him, making him flinch a little, 'I don't know. Such a hunger for knowledge, such a need to know, nowhere near as cunning as your brother. Not much sense of self-preservation either. Better be...Ravenclaw!"
A polite cheer of approval sounded from the blue table while Sherlock sat in his chair, shocked. He'd always been told he would be in Slytherin, that that was where he belonged. He didn't move until McGonnagall gave him a polite push off of the seat. He stumbled as he made his way over to the table, sitting down next to the rest of the new Ravenclaws. One of them stuck a hand out to greet him but he didn't take it. He was still in shock. He had always been told he was guaranteed a spot in that house, that there was a place reserved especially for him. Yet now, he was told that he didn't belong there? He looked over at the table on the far end of the room, catching eyes with Mycroft. He smiled at him, his lips thin and tight and Sherlock knew he was disappointed.
After hardly eating anything at the feast, Sherlock was escorted to the Ravenclaw common room by the prefect, a boy named James who seemed unimportant. He crawled straight into bed and pulled the azure-blue curtains around his bed, ignoring the excited chatter of his roommates discussing what the next day would bring. Instead, he lay still, trying to ignore the deep feeling of disappointment in his stomach and eventually managed to get to sleep.
Despite what Sherlock had thought on that first night when he fell asleep, never feeling more alone, he thrived in Ravenclaw house. Everyone respected that he wanted to keep to himself and they left him alone. That's the way he liked it. He poured over books in the library in between classes, absorbing all the knowledge needed to perform (some slightly more dangerous) experiments in deserted classrooms, as well as completing his schoolwork (but only when it wasn't entirely dull).
When Sherlock boarded the train at the end of his first year, he didn't feel like he was missing anything in his life, except maybe a pass to the restricted section, meaning he wouldn't have to sneak in any time he needed some slightly darker information. No, he was perfectly happy with how his life was, despite his mother's initial howler on letting down his family and his father's quieter letter of sheer disappointment. He was a rational being who could deal with these things, he didn't need any kind of social interaction, especially not from his brother who had spent the latter part of the year trying to apologise in the subtle way that only he could for ignoring him for the first. It had definitely been a successful year. Entirely.
And that's why it was such a shock that he was relieved when he met John Watson.
A/N: Please let me know if you enjoyed this! I am currently writing chapter two but obviously, reviews, follows and favourites do encourage creativity! ;) Thanks for reading! - CF