Hey all, I'm back with another chapter. I'd really like to thank anyone that reviewed, alerted, or added this story to their favorites. Without your encouragement this story might have died. I don't really like this chapter, but I don't think I can make it any better without a beta. If anyone is interested in helping me- please send me a PM.
I still don't own Harry Potter or Sherlock. Duh.
A Study in Friendship
Chapter One
Harry lay on his back in bed feeling rather content. Yes, his situation was bloody awful right now, what with the upcoming trial at the ministry, and his the silence of his friends, but at least he felt like he had done something productive rather than just sitting in his room wallowing in misery. He was doing something to help himself, and it felt really good. Plus, the Dursleys were gone for the night, which was always a good thing, off to some stupid garden competition.
He refused to brood or sulk or contemplate the reasons his life sucked (if he started, he'd never finish). Instead, he lay in bed enjoying the silence that the departure of the Dursleys had brought.
A sudden crash had him sitting upright in bed, reaching for his wand. He listened for more noises, but after the initial crash that had startled him everything became quiet again. Still, Harry did not lie back down. If a human had caused that noise that meant there could be burglars in the house. It could also mean something more sinister, but Harry tried not to think of that.
He kept his wand held in his hand, and crept silently to the corner of his room, where he'd be able to spot anyone who came in before they could see him. A moment later he was glad he had done so; there was a rustling sound from the doorknob, as if someone was picking the lock. A second later a click sounded and the door swung open.
Harry leapt in front of the intruder, wand held aloft, and stopped abruptly in surprise.
He knew the person standing at the door, and it wasn't a burglar or a death eater- it was the new kid whose family had moved into number two, Privet Drive. The previous owner had gotten remarried and moved in with her husband, and the new tenants were a mother, and a boy around Harry's age. Apparently the boy's father was dead, and the second son in the family lived on his own in London.
Harry had heard Petunia gossiping about the new kid with Uncle Vernon. Apparently, he and his mother had moved into number two only a couple of weeks before Harry had arrived for the summer. He was around seventeen years old, and, according to Aunt Petunia, completely insane.
Aunt Petunia had taken to telling anyone who would listen about how Mrs. Number Three had heard the boy complaining to his mother that Little Whinging was boring because there were no serial killers there. Her newest story was that the kid liked to take dead animals home and disect them.
Since Petunia had been telling all the neighbors false stories about Harry for years, Harry knew that her stories should probably taken with a grain of salt.. In fact, Harry liked the kid (Sheldon, was it?) on principle, simply because Vernon and Petunia disapproved of him.
Right now though, Harry's feeling for the kid (no, not Sheldon, it was a really weird name) were anything but friendly. The boy had really given him a scare, and even though Harry didn't think he posed much of a threat he still didn't like the audacity of the boy who had broken into his house.
Harry had turned on the light in his room, and was preparing to tear the kid a new one, when he actually saw the boy's face, and in his surprise, forgot to be angry. Harry had expected the stranger to look scared, guilty or apologetic- he had just been caught braking in to a stranger's home after all, but the boy didn't look at all uncomfortable with the fact that he had been caught in the act. In fact, the boy was ignoring Harry completely; he was staring intently at the floor.
The floor that, Harry belatedly realized, had his schoolbooks thrown all over it. Schoolbooks with titles like 'A History of Magic' and 'The Standard Book of Spells (grade four)'. One of the books, ('Break with Banshees') even had a moving picture on it. Lockhart was winking and waving stupidly from his picture at the muggle boy. Idiot. Couldn't he tell that the boy was a muggle?
This was bad, Harry knew. Muggles weren't supposed to witness magic, it went against the statue of secrecy.
He turned back to the boy, trying desperately to think of an excuse that would explain the magic books, and was once again surprised by what he saw. He had been expecting the boy to look shocked and confused. Instead, he saw that the kid had started pacing around in circles madly muttering to himself. Harry stared at him in shock for a second. Maybe he really was crazy? He tried to listen to what the kid was muttering.
"'…went by the technique: if there's no other explanation, then the only one left must be the correct one no matter how unlikely it is. Magic is the only explanation-the wand he is holding, and his spell books are proof that he can perform magic. But it's impossible! Everything in the world has to be logical, there has to be an explanation to everything. Magic doesn't have and explanation. There's absolutely no proof that it exists. Unless-"
He suddenly jumped into the air and clapped his hands together looking delighted.
"Magic is thought to be impossible because there is no proof or logical explination for it. But if there was a magical community they would be so much more advanced than us. They could easily hide any evidence that would prove the existance of magic. Which means that it isn't impossible, we simply don't have the information the proves the logic behind it!"
"It's perfect!" he cried out, no longer murmuring, but rather shouting in excitement "Magic would explain everything, and it would all make perfect sense too because the lack of evidence to support the existence of magic doesn't mean there isn't a perfectly reasonable explanation for it, it just means that the magical folk have hidden the evidence. Of course! It's brilliant! It's all so brilliant!"
Harry was seriously alarmed by this point. He had thought he might be able to convince the muggle that he was imagining things. Any normal muggle would convince themselves they were hallucinating, he wouldn't even need to convince them, but the boy was so sure of himself, so confident in his being right, that he didn't think the boy would fall for that. He had to do something though- muggles weren't supposed to know about magic. So Harry made his best attempt at regaining control of the situation:
"Would you mind telling me what the hell you are doing in my house?" he demanded, trying to sound as intimidating as possible. The boy started in surprise, looking as though he had forgotten Harry was there. He probably had, thought Harry.
"I came to rescue you" said the boy (Sherlock! that was the name!), matter-of-factly.
"Rescue me?" repeated Harry blankly.
"Yes, of course, rescue you! It was obvious that you were being mistreated by your relatives. Your baggy clothes, you glasses, your fingernails, they all just screamed abuse. I could have gone to the police, but I didn't want to do that because I knew you were hiding something else and I wanted to find out what it was.
Instead, I was going to offer you to hide from your relatives in my house. That way, you would be in the perfect position for me to observe you and figure out what you were hiding, and you would be away from those disgusting idiots you are related to- a win-win situation. I never expected to solve the mystery so fast though, I've really outdone myself this time!"
Harry stared at him open-mouthed. He was feeling touched that someone had actually noticed he was miserable, that someone had cared. He was feeling panicky because muggles really really weren't supposed to know about magic, but the boy had already figured it all out. And he was feeling just a little bit hopeful- being able to get away from the Dursleys would be a dream come true. The boy might be strange, but he seemed harmless enough and Harry thought his intentions were good. In any case he couldn't be any worse than the Dursleys.
But Sherlock wasn't done talking yet: "It's all obvious of course. At first I discarded the idea of you having magic, even though it would have explained all the strange things that happened around you, because the idea of maic was illogical. But if magic really does have a scientific explanation, it was just covered up by your society in order to keep yourselves secret, that would make the only logical conclusion I can thing of- magic, possible. It anwers all my questions perfectly! You're a wizard, aren't you?"
He looked triumphant and smug for one moment, before his face fell again.
"But that still doesn't make sense, if you can do magic, why on earth would you allow your relatives to treat you the way they do? Surely you can overpower them? I don't understand it, but there's got to be an explination"
"Actually-" began Harry, but the crazy muggle interrupted him before he could continue: "No no no, shut up shut up shut up! Your noise making is bothering me, I need quiet in order to solve this problem."
He started pacing again muttering- "There has to be an explanation, there always is one, in order to find it one must simply find all the puzzle pieces. Why would you allow yourself to be abused, when you could easily harm your relatives doing magic? I'm a certified genius, I could figure this out in 20 seconds if I just had two minutes of quiet without your noisy breathing messing up my thinking process. Would you shut up for a second while I think?"
"Well," said Harry, amused despite himself "I could shut up and let you think until you figure out the anwer, or I could just tell you why I don't use magic against my relatives."
"Oh, was that what you were going to say? Well, go on then, why don't you use magic against them?" the boy demanded, as if he hadn't been the one to interrupt Harry in the first place.
"It's illegal for underage wizards to use magic in non-magical areas, and even if I wasn't underage, it's illegal for wizards to use magic against non-wizards." Said Harry, who was so amused by the stranger's obsessive compulsive pacing and muttering, that he forgot to be mad at him for breaking into his home, or alarmed that he had just broken the statue of secrecy. The boy had figured out about magic on his own, and it wasn't like Harry could obliviate him, so he didn't see the harm in telling the mad muggle more.
"Of course!" crowed said muggle triumphantly "It's all so logical: If wizards have managed to keep themselves a secret for so long, they must have a government of some kind, and laws that prevent you people from exposing yourselves to the world! I've done it, I've solved the mystery!"
He looked so smug that Harry couldn't help but laugh, then, remembering the reason the boy had come in the first place, he sobered up.
"I don't suppose your offer of letting me hide from my relatives at your house is still standing, considering you've already solved the mystery you wanted to figure out?" he asked hopefully. The muggle was weird, but he was also funny, and nice in his own way. But Harry supposed that now the kid had the answer to the mystery, he would have no reason for wanting Harry around his house.
"What?" said the boy, who was still apparently still basking in the glow of having discovered the answer to his puzzle "Of course you're still invited to stay in my house! Just because I've figured out your secret doesn't mean I'm satisfied! Now I need to find out what causes magic, how it works, what rules of nature can and can't it break? What kinds of crimes can be commited with magic? It's a shame you can't do magic while you're here, I would so love to experiment with your magic, see if there's any machinery that can detect it, find out how it works, but I suppose we'll just have to work with theory.
In any case, you still have to come to my house, I'm sure I could figure it all out on my own eventually, but it would be much quicker and easier with your help. So you really must stay with me until I'm satisfied. You do want to stay with me, don't you?"
"Yeah, I want to!" said Harry grinning "My name's Harry, by the way." He held out his hand.
"Sherlock," said the boy shaking Harry's hand and grinning like a loon "Sherlock Holmes."
So while Harry started packing all his things away in preparation for his imminent escape from the Dursleys, he asked Sherlock about himself, and Sherlock introduced himself more thoroughly. He also wasted no time in telling Harry that he had been part of the wizarding world for four years, that he didn't like tomatoes, and that he kept his most prized possesions under the loose floor board in his room. Needless to say, Harry was impressed. Occasionally, Sherlock would stop to ask questions about different objects Harry was putting in his trunk. He practically shivered with delight when Harry showed him his invisibility cloak.
"Just imagine the different crime options there are in the magical world Harry! You could kill a man in the middle of the street and there would be no one to tell the police who it was, you could enchant a knife to strike your victim in the back without getting anywhere near him, therefore leaving no clues!" He seemed so excited that if Harry hadn't known that it was the challenge of the mystery that excited him, he would have thought Sherlock was a serial killer. As it was, he didn't have the heart to tell Sherlock that most wizards were about as imaginative as a sack of bricks, and would probably provide no challenge for him.
Harry might not have known the mad muggle long, but he could already tell that he thrived on solving puzzles and challenging his mind. It made him think that Sherlock probably hated Little Whinging as much as he did- a dull place, where the biggest crime that went on was Dudley's gang vandalizing the park and smoking weed.
When he asked Sherlock what caused Sherlock's family to move to this hellhole he told Harry it was supposedly because his mom got a good job offer that required that they move there. "But I think it's just an excuse, Mummy says that her job here is much better than the one she had in London, but as far as I can tell, the job here is nearly identical to the one she had in London, and pays more or less the same. I think the real reason she moved was because of me. Both of us weren't really happy in London, but I think is was the fact that I had it bad that caused her to decide to move."
When Harry asked what Sherlock's problem with his previous home was, Sherlock said that it was because the police force in the area were idiots, and would never heed his advice. "But that's not why Mummy wanted us to move, she wasn't happy because I was always alone at school and didn't have any friends" The simple, matter-of-fact way he said it, showed that he couldn't care less if he had friends or not.
Harry could understand why Sherlock would have trouble making friends, what with his brilliant mind, striking looks, and intense personality, he probably intimidated most people. Harry, though, had grown up with the loud and menacing Uncle Vernon, and had spent the last four years of his life escaping the evilest dark wizard of the century who was intent on killing him. He wasn't intimidated so easily. He had, in fact, taken a liking to Sherlock. Sherlock was so straightforward: no pretense, no fake politeness, Harry had the feeling that Sherlock wouldn't have judged him at all for writing the letter to Voldemort- he would have understood perfectly.
"The move hasn't been working out the way Mummy thought it would though" continued Sherlock, unaware of Harry's thoughts, "She thought that I'd be able to meet new people if we were in a new place. She really doesn't like how alone I am- she thinks it makes me even more antisocial than I already am, so she had high hopes for the move. So far, it has been a dissapointment- I haven't yet met a single person whose presence I could bear for more than 30 seconds, all the people in my high school are such idiots, and Mummy's getting rather desperate for me to have a friend. It's good for us though, she'll be so happy to see me interacting with someone my age, that she won't even think of asking any awkward questions. She'll be so delighted that she wouldn't risk anything that might scare you off."
Harry was surprised to hear that Sherlock was still in high school- he looked around 17 or 18 years old, which was the right age to be in high school, but Sherlock was obviously a genius. He could have easily skipped a grade or five with his brilliant mind, so why wasn't he in college?
When he voiced his question, Sherlock smirked and explained that his being smart didn't mean he was good at school. Sherlock refused to study subjects that he deemed useless, and almost all the subjects he was required to learn at school fell under that category. He just deleted every single history or literature lesson from his mind the second it was over, and thus failed half his classes. His amazing grades in Chemistry and his high IQ weren't enough to make up for his appalling grades in other subjects.
Harry thought that was rather amusing, but said nothing, not wanting Sherlock to think that he was laughing at his expense. He simply hoisted his trunk up, tucked his wand in the back pocket of his jeans, and gestured Sherlock that he was ready to leave.
They quietly exited the house, locking the doors behind them, and quickly ran to the house next door where they were greeted by an ecstatic Anastasia Holmes, who was so delighted to see that her son had made a friend, once she had been introduced to Harry, that she had welcomed Harry with open arms and a warm hug.
Not five minutes after Harry and Sherlock entered number two, the advanced guard of the Order of the Phoenix apparated into number four, intending to collect Harry, only to find the house empty.
Tom was lying lazily on his couch, reading a rather dull book on the definition of 'dark arts', when an owl swooped into the room and dropped a letter on his head.
Tom put his book down and picked the letter up feeling bemused. It had been years since he had received a letter. He had no idea who could have sent it. His Death Eaters were the only ones who would have any reason to contact him, and they knew better than to do it by letter.
Letters could be intercepted, and sending one with sensitive information was a serious breach of security. If the letter had indeed been sent by a Death Eater, then someone was going to get crucio'ed tonight. He would let it be a lesson to all death eaters.
Once he had actually opened the letter and read it, his mouth fell open, and he nearly dropped the letter in shock. Potter? Potter had written him? Offered to spy on Dumbeldore for him?
It could be a trap of course, but that didn't seem very likely. If it was a trap designed to feed him false information about Dumbledore, it was a very feeble one considering Tom already had a spy that reported all of Dumbledore's movements to him. Plus, it was so unlike Dumbledore to do something tricky and covert- it just wasn't how he operated.
Dumbledore liked great big confrontations with a large audience, where he could lecture Tom on the power of love and the beauty of forgiveness, beg Tom to change his ways (even though they both knew that it was all for show- Tom would never change), pretend to be disappointed when Tom didn't show the slightest pang of remorse for his actions, and then throw a few spells at him.
Big public shows were Dumbledore's thing, and it was therefore unlikely that he was behind the letter.
This led Tom to believe that the letter was sincere, which was absolutely perfect. Tom had never expected Potter to do something like this (he had always seemed so noble and brave in their confrontations- and writing this letter was such a cowardly sneaky thing to do) but if he could gain Potter's cooperation his victory in the war was practically guarranteed. Potter was the only threat to him, and if Potter and he came to an agreement, he could be unstoppable!
He would be cautious of course, since it could still be a trap, and Tom Marvolo Riddle was no fool, but he could not suppress the triumphant smirk that appeared on his face as he sat down to write Potter a reply.
The end of chapter one! I'll try to get the next one out ASAP, but in the meantime- feel free to review and tell me what you thought.
