A/N: During the writing of the first chapter, there was a bit of a typo in John's section. At the point where he takes the money off the table and leaves the house, the typo had left out the "picks up the money" part, therefore allowing John to leave the house with the entire table in hand. Upon editing this, an ungodly amount of laughter ensued at the image of eleven-year-old John simply walking out of the house with a table, also in a rage, because let's face it, Martin Freeman's personality in an eleven-year-old body was too good to pass up. Because of this mishap, there will probably be some sort of table related joke in just about every chapter, simply to fulfill our need for ridiculousness.

Also, thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, they mean a lot!

Chapter 2

Sherlock miserably held onto his mother's hand as they marched through the long, narrow street that was Diagon Alley. It was a boring, dull, and unnecessarily loud place, and he didn't like a moment of it. Today was the day the train would be taking him away from his home in Sussex, and he couldn't have been happier; if it weren't for the fact that his brother would be accompanying him, and he would be forced to use magic. Nevertheless, he put on a bit of a show for his mother, in the hopes that upon his return, she would allow him to pursue his real dreams of becoming a pirate.

They stopped at far too many stores, all of them just as busy and loud as the street outside. Sherlock soon found himself in possession of the best school supplies money could buy, along with a wand, a few pockets full of galleons to take with him, and brand new robes. Mycroft bought entirely new things as well, and Sherlock scowled at the way his mother seemed to have a never ending supply of galleons. Meanwhile, as he was being fitted for his robes, he watched another young boy enter the shop. He was a bit shorter than Sherlock, and he seemed very out of place. He was nervous, Sherlock could tell, by the shaking of his hands and the sweat on his brow. Sherlock made a quick deduction; He was muggle-born.

As the boy was fitted for his robes, Sherlock studied him further; It was the only thing to keep him occupied throughout his own fitting. The boy had sandy blonde hair and dull, hazel eyes that seemed, at the moment, sad. They were anxiously flitting all over the shop, finally deciding to settle on his mother, who seemed equally out of place. Where was his father? Late? Absent? Dead? Sherlock couldn't immediately tell, but based on boy and his mother's lack of knowledge of the magical world, he assumed the father must be a muggle as well. Sherlock's own mother, had she deduced this about the boy, would have turned her nose up to him. She didn't care too much for muggle-borns or Mudbloods, but they all seemed perfectly alright to Sherlock, especially this boy. He seemed terrified, and Sherlock almost sympathized with him. He didn't, of course, because that would require sentiment, and sentiment is a chemical defect that is always found on the losing side. Mycroft had taught him that a long time ago.

Sherlock was soon being pulled out of the shop by his mother, his new robes tucked under her arm, and Mycroft busily packing his own in his trunk. Next, it was off to find a pet, as his mother had adamantly insisted that he should have some sort of companion with him. As they passed Eyelops Owl Emporium, Sherlock's eyes landed on something in the window. He stopped walking and stared at it, tugging on his mother's hand to stop her. Violet Holmes backpedaled to follow her son's gaze into the shop, and she smiled broadly. "Would you like an owl, Sherlock?"

"That one," he stated, pointing at the barn owl that sat in its cage in the window, preening itself. It was an elegant bird, with bright feathers and even brighter eyes. It looked at the boy as he stared at it, cocking its head slightly to the side. Sherlock smiled and looked up at his mother expectantly. She smiled in return, and quietly pulled Sherlock into the store. Ten minutes later, they were walking out of the store, Sherlock with a birdcage held up in front of his face. "I'm going to name him 'Billy,'" Sherlock decided, beginning to walk ahead of his mother in growing excitement over his new bird. He was only excited about it because having Billy with him meant that he had someone to talk to. Therefore, he wouldn't actually need to make friends, which meant he wouldn't have to waste his time with tedious conversations with people he couldn't care less about.

Soon after, Sherlock was crammed in the backseat of a muggle cab, wedged between his mother and Mycroft, with Billy's cage sitting on his knees. The ride to King's Cross Station was relatively short, and when they arrived, Sherlock was beginning to feel slightly better about the entire situation. He took great enjoyment out of watching the idiot muggles pass by the entrance to platform 9 ¾ without so much as a second glance. When they approached the platform, a family of redheaded children and their mother were already waiting to go through. A boy with messy brown hair was also with them, and he seemed to be about Sherlock's age. He didn't seem to know what he was doing, but when the twin redheads demonstrated what to do, he did so without a problem. Immediately after, the last redheaded boy went through, followed by his mother and sister. Sherlock glanced up at Mycroft, who seemed to have been scowling at the family the entire time. Sherlock sensed that he probably knew the older boys.

"Who were they, Mycroft?" He asked, curious to know what it was about them that had bothered his brother.

"The Weasley family," Mycroft droned, "Purebloods, but they don't act like it."

"What's so bad about them?"

"Don't concern yourself with them, not even that first year, and especially not the twins." Without another word, Mycroft turned to their mother and smiled. "I'll see you at Christmas, then, mother."

Violet smiled at her son and kissed his cheek. "Of course. I'll be expecting both of you on the train home. Watch after your brother, Mycroft."

Mycroft nodded and smiled at her once more before gripping his trolley more firmly and racing towards the wall between platforms nine and ten. Sherlock made to follow him immediately, but was stopped by his mother's hand on his shoulder. "Don't think you're leaving without saying goodbye to me, Sherlock," she teased, leaning down to press an overly affectionate kiss to his cheek. Sherlock scowled and pushed her away, blushing and disgusted. Violet only smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. "Have fun, sweetheart. And please try to stay out of trouble!"

"Yes, mother," Sherlock muttered, rolling his eyes. He then ran towards the wall, closing his eyes as he passed through it. Mycroft had been waiting for him, and for a moment, Sherlock was horrified by the prospect of having to sit with his brother for the entire train ride to Hogwarts. Fortunately, Mycroft could see the panic on Sherlock's face.

"I'll be sitting with friends, Sherlock. Sit wherever you please, but do try not to make too many enemies just yet." And with that, Mycroft was marching off to his own compartment on the train. Sherlock rolled his eyes again and made for the back of the train, hoping not too many people would be sitting back there. Sure enough, he found a compartment all to himself, and settled down, pulling one of his textbooks out of his trunk. As he did so, he glanced out the window once more, scowling at all of the sentimental goodbyes that were happening on the platform. Suddenly, Sherlock's eyes landed on a familiar face. The boy from the robe shop; The one with the sandy hair and an anxious expression on his face. Sherlock watched with curiosity as the boy said his farewell to his mother, almost catching the boy's eye for a moment before quickly turning away. Feigning a sudden disinterest in the boy, Sherlock quickly returned to his book.

For a long while, Sherlock sat in uninterrupted silence, content with the comfort of his book and nobody to bother him. That is, until a soft knock at the door interrupted him. Glancing up from his book, he noticed the same young boy with the sandy colored hair that he had seen in the robe shop. The boy sheepishly poked his head into the compartment and smiled at Sherlock. "Hello," he said, "Do you mind if I join you? All of the other compartments are full."

John eagerly pulled on his mother's hand as they hurried down a back street. With them was a Ministry of Magic official, who was grinning at the young kid's eagerness. He worked in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and had the job of Muggle and Muggle-Born relations. He had previously met with this family twice, in which he explained the how he was there for their assistance in buying John's magical equipment and getting him on the Hogwarts express.

"Are we there yet?" John asked with a note of impatience in his voice.

"Just a little longer, at the end of this street," replied the official.

John let out a laugh and released his mother's hand to run ahead. Never had he been this excited, and the day was only beginning. As John reached the corner where the dingy pub was located, John turned back toward his mother, who a chatting with the Ministry official. John couldn't remember when he had seen his mother looking that happy.

The two adults eventually reached the point where John was waiting, tapping his foot impatiently. The Ministry official pulled open the door and motioned for the mother and son to enter. The inside of the pub was as dark and dirty as the outside, and yet it had a warm, homey feel to it. The bartender looked up at the sound of the door closing. "Ah, Frederick, how are you?" the bartender asked with a wide toothless grin.

"Sorry Tom, Ministry business," the Ministry official said while motioning to John and his mother.

Tom the bartender nodded and turned back to the glass he was cleaning.

"Follow me," said Frederick. John's mother took John's hand and they followed Frederick through a small arch to a brick wall. John heard some tapping on the bricks when suddenly the bricks started to move, eventually forming an arch. Through this arch John could see a cobbled stone street packed full with people wearing long cloaks and pointed hats. "Welcome, to Diagon Alley." John looked up at Frederick, who was grinning. "Alright, first stop, the Bank."

Frederick took off at a brisk pace, and John's mother grabbed John's hand again, pulling him forward. John wanted to stop and look at every shop, but he knew that they didn't have time, so he hurried along behind his mother. At the end of the street they came up to a large white building surrounded by tall columns. Frederick took them inside and to the front desk. "Mister John Watson would like to make a withdrawal," Frederick said to the creature working the desk.

John wanted to look at the creature, but he knew it was impolite to stare, so he kept his head down. After a minute of waiting, Frederick turned toward a side door and followed one of the creatures. John and his mother followed Frederick through the door into a well-lit cave. In the cave was a cart which they got into. The goblin (according to Frederick) sat at the front and when everyone was in the goblin pushed a lever forward, and the cart accelerated forward.

Wind whipped past John as he tried to catch glimpses of what they were passing, but too soon the cart was slowing down.

"Vault 221," the goblin announced with a bored drawl.

Frederick got out of the cart and helped John and his mother out. They were followed by the goblin who walked up and put a key into the key hole. There was a click, and the door swung open. John's eyes lit up when he saw what was inside the vault; three different piles of coins, one gold, one silver, and one bronze. Frederick stepped in and took out two small bags from his coat pocket, before proceeding to fill them with a handful of each type of coin. He then handed one bag to John's mother.

"We are running short on time, so we will need to split up. I will take you two to get John's robes, and while he is being fitted I will go get his other supplies. We'll meet up after to get his wand."

John's mother nodded and took John's hand. They got back into the cart, and a couple minutes later they were back in the bright, bustling street. Frederick led John and his mother to a shop called Madame Malkin's: Robes for All Occasions.

"I'll leave you here to get John's robes. While doing that, I will run and grab his other supplies. I will meet you both here and we will go get John's wand."

John's eyes lit up at the thought of getting his own wand. Frederick held the door of the shop open to let John and his mother in, before waving goodbye and rushing off into a nearby shop. John turned around, and tried to hold his mother's hand. His body, however, was shaking too much for him to grip her hand correctly. The shop seemed so large and so unusual to John. He couldn't decide on where to look, so he decided to fix his eyes on his mother's face, who smiled down at him. A slightly elderly lady approached the duo. As John looked up at her, something about her smile was soothing.

"Hogwarts?" she asked. John nodded in response. The lady smiled and took his hand.

"Come with me."

John looked up at his mother, who gave him a small push, and he was whisked away to be fitted. John looked over his shoulder to make sure his mother was nearby before putting his arms up to be fitted. As the lady proceeded to measure his arms, John glanced at his surroundings. The shop was filled with a wide assortment of robes. Most were black, but there were some of other colors. In particular, a dark green robe caught his eye. As he continued on down the rack, John's eyes met another pair of grey-blue eyes. The boy had black, curly hair and was staring intently at John. But before John could say something to the boy, John was being turned around to be fitted. When he had the opportunity John glanced back over his shoulder, but the curious boy was gone.

The fitting soon ended, and John's mother handed over some of the curious coins. Frederick was waiting expectantly outside the shop. He took John's hand and they hurried off down the street. They eventually came up to a shop called Ollivander's. Frederick held the door open for the mother and son before following them in. In the shop was an old man with vivid white hair who was helping a young girl with extremely bushy hair and her family.

John took a seat on a bench next to his mother, and Frederick sat on his opposite. As John watched as family interacted with who he assumed was the shop owner, his eyes eventually wandered off to a small side table.

"I like that table," mumbled John. "That's a nice table."

Frederick glanced at John, confused, before looking at the table, but before he could say anything John was called up.

John walked up slowly to the shop owner; something about his eyes was off-setting. The man lifted up John's right arm. A tape measure jumped off the desk and started taking measurements while the old man walked down one of his many isles. The old man eventually came back his arms laden with long, slender boxes.

The next couple minutes flew by as the man, Ollivander, kept putting wands into John's hand and almost immediately taking them out. It wasn't until after ten tries that something happened. A feeling of warmth flowed up John's arm, and sparks shot out the end of the wand, causing John to flinch. Ollivander's eyes lit up and his face broke out in a grin.

"Perfect. Simply perfect. That will be 7 Galleons."

John looked confusedly at his mother, who walked up to Ollivander and handed him some more of the odd coins. Ollivander thanked them, and John was rushed out of the shop by Frederick.

"One final stop," announced Frederick, "and then off to King's Cross." The trio walked up to a shop that was making a lot of noise. As they entered John saw a wide array of animals, including many species of owls. John felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to his mother's face.

"Pick an owl. That way we can stay in touch."

John smiled and looked in all of the cages, until coming upon a small, light-brown screech owl. "This one, I choose this one."

John's mother smiled and handed over some money to the man behind the counter. John picked up the cage, and Frederick led the way out of Diagon Alley, through the pub, and out onto the bustling public streets of London.

A dark blue car pulled up, and Frederick put John's trunk into the back of the car. John sat himself between his mother and Frederick, who took the place of the driver. The trip itself took only a couple minutes and soon Frederick was pulling up to King's Cross. John grabbed a trolley and helped Frederick load the trolley with his supplies. Frederick took the lead, pushing the trolley down platforms 9 and 10.

"Alright, we're here," Frederick said while pulling the trolley to a halt. "Platform 9 ¾."

"What did you say?" John looked up at his mother, who seemed just as confused as John was. Frederick took John's hand and gave him a warm smile.

"Just trust me." Frederick started walking again, this time at a wall between Platforms 9 and 10. One hand pushed the trolley, while the other firmly held onto John's hand. John used his other hand to hold onto his mother. As the wall came closer, John closed his eyes. He waited for the hard collision, but it never came. John opened his eyes, and in front of him was a bright scarlet engine. "Come on, you're going to be late!" Frederick pushed the trolley along the train, looking for one less crowded. He made it to the end before stopping. John helped him as Frederick lifted John's supplies onto the train. "Alright, the train leaves in two minutes," Frederick announced in a low voice.

John turned to his mother, who had tears in her eyes. "John, you be careful out there," his mother said in a raspy voice. "Stay away from trouble, make friends, and have some fun for once."

John stared at his mother, lost for words, before pulling her in for a final hug. "I love you, Mum."

"I love you too John. Don't forget to write." John nodded and got onto the train just as the whistle blew. John stood in the doorway and waved to his mother as the train started to pull away.

It wasn't until the train went around a turn that pulled himself and his trunk into the train.

John walked down the stagecoach, checking each compartment for vacancies. It wasn't until he reached the very end of the train that John found a relatively empty compartment. Looking in, John realized it was the same boy from the robe shop. Mustering up his courage, John knocked on the glass door. The boy looked up from his book, and the grey-blue eyes pierced John's eyes again. Nervously, John poked his head into the compartment and put on his best smile.

"Hello, do you mind if I join you?" John asked, masking any nervousness. "All of the other compartments are full."