Author's Note: I wrote this for a ficathon earlier this year, decided to put it up here. House is canonically born in 1959 (as is Hugh Laurie). We have no such official information for Wilson, however, Robert Sean Leonard is a decade younger (1969). My conceit here is that these two literally just missed each other at Hogwarts, where House finished up in the spring and Wilson started that fall. This makes Wilson 7 years younger than House. I am also shoehorning in what little we know about both characters' history into something passable. Yes, I am an appallingly nitpicky continuity freak. Offending my sense of order is perilous. Thanks to R. for the beta-read! Any remaining errors/mistakes/problems are solely my responsibility.
Timeframe: Sometime during the first 3 seasons. Doesn't really matter.
Disclaimer: Any and all recognizable characters aren't mine, they belong to their creators, I'm just borrowing them.
"Doctor Wilson to Radiology, Doctor Wilson to Radiology."
Dr. James Wilson was rifling through House's desk drawers. He pushed aside what seemed to be an endless abyss of half-empty bottles of Vicodin and DVDs (most with the neat, clean handwriting of Cameron on it, describing the electronic records on said DVD), interspersed with the odd copy of Soap Opera Weekly. Just as he was going to close the drawer, he saw it.
The quartered shield with the motto "Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus." The pin, which Wilson had sworn he'd seen before House had quickly brushed some of the contents from his desk into the drawer yesterday evening, that was exactly like the one that Wilson himself owned. One where the lion, the badger, the raven, and the serpent actually moved, instead of just standing there like on some non-magical pin. He closed the drawer, being careful not to slam it shut, and walked out of House's office towards the Radiology department in the adjacent wing, having picked up a few folders first that he had laid on House's desk while conducting his search.
"Doctor Wilson? ICU needs to see you about a patient," a nurse called out to him from the nurses' station as he passed by on his way out of House's office.
"I'll be back in a moment, have a consult in Radiology at the moment," he said as he walked on by, his eyes narrowed and lips pursed. Wilson paged through the top folder, titled HOUSE, GREGORY on the folder lip. He knew that House would be endlessly amused by the fact that he had gone through confidential personnel files to pluck House's file from the cabinets.
June 1959....so House was seven years ahead of me at Hogwarts, Wilson thought. We just missed each other, he figured. The official record of House's education read much like his own official record – it was all arranged to cover up his status as a Hogwarts alum. While Wilson's parents hadn't objected to him going away to that "British boarding school," they expected him to return and do a proper university education back in North America.
Wilson slipped House's file in between the other folders as he walked into the radiology department, gripping it a bit tighter so as to prevent anything falling out.
Wilson stared at House's file on his desk. He had an address book next to it; however, most of the entries of relevance were marked "Prison" or "Deceased." Perils of being a Slytherin, Wilson mused. Perhaps, in 50 years, a few of those who had taken part in Voldemort's second rise might be released under parole, although most would look askance upon Wilson – a Slytherin who had returned back to the non-magical world and had remained without looking back. In any case, most of the people Wilson might have asked were out of contact for the foreseeable future.
Could House have been a Slytherin? Cunning, a certain disregard for the rules, and resourcefulness were all traits House had in spades. Ambition, though.....House was perfectly content with running his Diagnostic Medicine department and had turned down positions at larger, better-funded institutions. Of course, his friend had a certain sort of ambition to face down disease in disguise regularly with a reckless passion at times. Wilson's thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of his phone, a single buzz indicating an internal hospital call.
"House has finally done it!" Cuddy screamed as he lifted the phone to his ear. Wilson sighed. He knew House stood no chance of being a Hufflepuff, as he listened to Cuddy drone on about House's latest set of appalling actions. The notion of fair play would only enter into House's mind as a ruse to distract either Cuddy or Cameron from figuring out what was really going on. Cuddy kept on ranting in his ear as Wilson pulled out his wand from his lab coat, tapping a picture on his desk
Wilson had charmed his pictures to appear non-magical unless tapped by his wand. This was to ensure the confidentiality of his wizarding nature. This picture here showed a younger Wilson, standing proudly by a mirror in the Slytherin boys' dormitory, with a large group of male students surrounding it. It was the viewing mirror into the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory, which had taken Wilson an entire year to set up. The sneaking of objects into the dorms, the extensive magical spells woven around them for both security and to transmit moving images and sound....Wilson smiled at the memory. It had taken the staff a year and a half to shut it down and find out it was him, but by then he was firmly a part of Slytherin House history. He had heard that groups of students had revived the traditions about once a decade, updating the spells and charms in response to the new protective wards that were always under development.
Wilson murmured an "Indeed" into the phone, and Cuddy must have finished her spiel, because he heard her hang up the phone. It wasn't that he didn't care, of course. House should be retained here at Princeton-Plainsboro. House was a one-of-a-kind asset, besides keeping Cuddy's focus on him, and away from what going on in the oncology department. He tapped his wand on the picture, stopping the motion, and then returned the scattered paperwork back into House's file. After tapping the file with his wand, House's personnel record had been transfigured into an innocuous-looking medical journal. He slid it into a slot on the bookshelves behind him as he pursed his lips. Ravenclaw was an extremely sensible choice for House's Hogwarts affiliation. If anyone could endure 7 years of having to answer riddles, House could, and have done so with a smirk on his face. He packed up his office for the night, setting the wards that would keep him aware of House's perpetual trespasses on his privacy without giving Wilson's surveillance away. Wilson figured that, if he had to, he could contact the alumni network here in the United States. He locked his door and went home for the night.
"Dammit, people, you need to know when to take risks!" Wilson heard House's voice from down the hall. "We have a patient who is going to die in a day, so I'd like to have something to work with besides all of the diagnoses you've already ruled out."
"Well, lymphocytic choriomeningitis virus does explain most of the symptoms," Foreman said. "And-"
"Yes, and LCMV is rarely ever fatal, and our patient is about to die. Sometimes you've got to sack up – well, except for you, Cameron – and tickle that sleeping dragon. Take a chance."
Wilson walked by the diagnostic medicine office and laughed. And, as he saw House's red and gold striped socks, Wilson mused, only a Gryffindor would ever suggest tickling a sleeping dragon for the benefit of someone else.