Chapter Two: Ice Cream
It had been an exhausting day, The Doctor showed Christine around most of Diagon Alley, helped her buy all she needed, and now they were eating at a small shop as the sun was setting. The boy with the trench coat had joined them. He was rather odd and seemed to take everything literally, but he was likable. The Doctor referred to him as "Cas", but Christine had no idea what his full name was. The British boy, on the other hand, had rather apathetically refused to even talk to anyone (especially The Doctor, for some reason) and had hidden his face in a large, dusty book.
"Shirley?" The Doctor had whined, "Don't be such a wet blanket."
The boy's eyebrow had raised slightly but he didn't take his eyes off his book, therefore we had left him in the ingredients shop.
The sky was a dusty red, spotted with a creamy pink from the clouds. Christine sighed as she watched the people hurrying to their destinations. So many oddly dressed, strange package carrying, impossibly old, impossibly short, and impossibly tall people filled the crooked streets.
"So, what house do you think I'm in?" Christine asked Cas and The Doctor, turning to face them. Cas rested his head on his hands and squinted his eyes at her, The Doctor raised his eyebrows and put on his glasses, she noticed he seemed to do that whenever asked a difficult question.
"Hufflepuff."
"Ravenclaw."
They both made these decisive statements at the exact same moment.
"So… in other words, you have no idea?"
"It's natural that Cas would think you're a Hufflepuff since he's one. Hufflepuff's aren't very intelligent, not to say anything against you Cas, so he would be rather biased in his choice. However, as a Ravenclaw, I'm obviously right," The Doctor said in a self-satisfied manner, leaning back and resting his feet on the table. Cas rolled his eyes and ignored him.
"Hey, Cas! Where've you been?" A very tall shadow suddenly appeared behind Christine, followed by an even taller shadow. She turned around to see two boys, one with a short haircut, the other with a longer one, both dressed in strange looking robes.
"Why're you in your robes already?" The Doctor peered at them, "a few months too early, don't you think?"
"You get treated as a priority at stores when people know you're from Hogwarts," the taller one shrugged.
"Gotta be clever about these things, Doc," the shorter one tapped his head and smiled smugly, The Doctor looked repulsed at being called "doc".
"Dean, you're hardly ever clever, that's usually Sam," Cas stated simply. Christine let out a small laugh, which made Dean and Sam looked at her for the first time. Dean made a face and elbowed Sam knowingly, to which Sam sighed and stuck out his hand.
"Sam Winchester, this is my brother Dean," he said, she took his hand and shook it.
"Christine Rivera," she replied.
"Hogwarts? You look about 5th year age, but I've never seen you before."
"Oh yeah, it's a long story, but I'm starting a little late," she muttered.
"Ah, right into the 5th year?" Dean looked at her pitifully, "that's gonna be impossible."
"Shut up Dean," Sam said, "I'm sure you'll do fine," he smiled.
"Thanks, I'll be getting tutoring over the summer before school starts," Christine took another bite of her ice cream, "what houses are you two?"
"I'm Gryffindor, Sam's Ravenclaw," Dean said.
"What about you?" Sam asked.
"Oh, I don't know yet," Christine shrugged, "The Doctor told me about the sorting hat thingy, so she guess I'm going to have to do that."
"Wow, you don't know?" Dean laughed, "Here's to hoping it's Gryffindor!" He winked and Sam rolled his eyes.
"Just hope it's not Slytherin," Cas commented gruffly.
"What's wrong with Slytherin?"
"Well, they don't really get a good reputation, most of them are pretty…unpleasant," Sam said carefully, "they tend to be kind of full of themselves."
"That kid you met at the bookstore is one," The Doctor said, "prime example, but for some reason, his boyfriend is a Gryffindor."
"Sherlock and John are not in a relationship," Cas said matter-of-factly, "everyone knows that John and Mary are dating."
"I, for one, think it's all a sham," Dean asserted, "that's exactly what they want you to think."
Cas looked unimpressed and went back to eating his ice cream.
"Well, we've got to get going. Was nice meeting you," Same nodded to Christine, who smiled back. Cas scrambled out of his seat and soon the three of them were walking off into the distance.
"Well, I hope you survive the summer training," The Doctor stood up and checked his watch, "I'm expected home soon, so I guess I'll see you around."
"Bye then," Christine stood up and gave him a hug, "thanks for saving me from drowning."
"Anytime," he winked, sauntering off into the distance.
Christine stood there, with several large packages, burning with questions but with no one to answer them. She pulled out her list and looked at what The Doctor had left for her to get by herself. A wand, maybe a pet, and a broomstick if she wanted to play Quidditch (whatever that was). What Christine was most interested in was the wand.
The Doctor had told her all about how the wand chose the wizard, the very idea of being able to perform magic with a little stick meant for her alone was exciting and terrifying at the same time. Ollivander's – that was the place everyone said was the best for wands, so she found herself entering the strange, dimly lit shop.
An old man was at the desk, talking with another young person, presumably another Hogwarts student.
"It's been extremely frustrating, I can't figure out why it's blocking," he said, the old man nodded.
"Perhaps," he began, "you need a new one. It's rare, but not unheard of. When a person undergoes a great loss in their life their wand type may change."
The boy sighed, rifling through his change purse.
"How much will it cost?"
"Just trade in the old one," the old man said casually, then looking up he ushered Christine forward. She walked over next to the boy, who she recognized as the Slytherin from the ingredients shop.
"Oh, hey," she said awkwardly, "don't believe we've been properly introduced, we met at the shop?"
"Hello," he disinterestedly returned her salutations, not bothering to make eye contact.
The old man was busy looking through strange shoeboxes lining the walls in seemingly endless numbers.
"I'm new to Hogwarts," she began, trying to start up a conversation.
Sherlock threw a side-glance at her, then began to speak very quickly.
"Your name is Christine, you are a muggle-born and have never been to Hogwarts despite your age. I assume there was an oversight in sending your letter. You don't know anything about the wizarding world, you don't know which house you're in, and you've never used a wand. You're either a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, your father is a drunkard and your mother is a little too nice for her own good," he took a short breath, "you have no brothers or sisters and recently moved to a new town so you don't have any friends."
Christine was more than a little ruffled by this.
"I may not know much about the wizardly world, but I can tell you that you have narcissistic personality disorder if you think you can sum up a person in one long-winded rant after knowing them for 1 minute."
Sherlock raised one eyebrow, turning and finally making eye contact with her.
"Sherlock Holmes," he extended his hand.
"Christine Rivera," she shook it.