John was woken by someone shaking him. He blinked sleepily. Had he slept in? Was Wood waking him because he was about to miss the start of the game? No, it was still all dark.
"It's not morning yet..." he muttered, turning away from whoever had interrupted his sleep.
"I'm not going to look for either Scabbers or Toad..." he added, remembering when Ron had woken him at three am just to ask if he'd seen Scabbers. Ron had been determined Hermione's cat had eaten his rat and they had searched their dormitory for an entire hour, just to find Scabbers safe and sound, fast asleep next to Ron's pillow.
There was a scoff. "John, get up now."
"Sherlock? How did you get in here?" John sat up abruptly, trying to see through the darkness.
"Through the door." The Consulting Detective sounded slightly annoyed. "Will you come now? Artemis is waiting."
"Why? Did something happen?" John asked, putting on his shoes. He knew very well Sherlock wouldn't allow him to get dressed properly, even if they were about to go to the Forbidden Forest.
"No", Sherlock said impatiently. "It's just an experiment... And be quiet, for God's sake."
"Experiment?" John whispered, following Sherlock through the dark Common Room. "An experiment at - what is it? Two a.m.?"
"Three", Sherlock corrected and held the portrait hole open so John could climb through.
"I've got a Quidditch match today! I need to be rested..." John hissed and a little proudly he added: "I was cast as a seeker."
For a moment John hoped for some kind of approval, hoped that Sherlock might congratulate him. But all the Detective did was raising an eyebrow as if he questioned John's state of mind.
"Do you honestly think I care about Quidditch?"
John looked down. "No, of course not."
Silently, he followed Sherlock through the empty corridors. The confidence and security with which Sherlock walked told John he was not roaming the dark castle for the first time. They took several passageways that John did not know, or perhaps just didn't recognize in the pale moonlight.
He was about to ask where they were going when Sherlock stopped at a girls' bathroom.
"A girls' bathroom?" John asked incredulously when Sherlock entered it. "We're not going to wait until morning for someone to come in so we can experiment with her, are we?"
There was a snort from the other side of the bathroom.
"Of course not." Artemis who had been leaning to a wall turned to Sherlock: "Does he always have such hilarious ideas?"
"Sometimes, yes", Sherlock confirmed and went over to the Slytherin boy. "Does it work?"
Artemis nodded.
"Does what work?" Ignoring John's question, Sherlock turned to the sink: "Open up."
John's eyes widened when the sink obeyed Sherlock's words, shifting to reveal a hole.
"What's this?"
"The Chamber of Secrets. Don't worry the Basilisk was killed last year."
John had no idea what a Basilisk was but apparently it wasn't on the top of the lists of things you wanted to share a cup of tea with.
Before John could ask any more questions both Sherlock and Artemis slid into the hole, and John had no choice but to follow them. With slight surprise he noticed he was entering a pipe, but at least it had started underneath a sink and not a toilet.
He seemed to slide down for ages, cold air rushing over his body, which was still dressed in nothing but his flimsy pyjamas. Shivering, he regretted not having grabbed a cloak at least.
Finally, the pipe ended and he hit the ground hard.
"How the hell are we going to get back up there?" John stood up and let his fingers ran over the smooth surface of the pipe.
"Easy. Stairs," Artemis said and they formed.
"Okay," John said, stressing the second syllable. You should think he had gotten used to things moving on command by now.
He looked around: They were in a cave, deep underneath the castle. The walls were shimmering wet and to their left stretched a corridor going even deeper into the mountain the school had been build on.
They didn't go any farther, however, but Artemis and Sherlock turned to a strange object that had been standing in the cave all along though, John hadn't noticed it at first. It was a mirror.
"Is this the experiment?" John asked. "Looking into a mirror?" Had one of them turned into a vampire or something?
"This isn't just an ordinary mirror. This is the Mirror of Erised. It shows the greatest desire of whoever looks into it."
"And what do you need me for?" John eyed the mirror warily. He didn't like things that seemed to able to read his mind.
Artemis rolled his eyes. "Just look into it and tell us what you see."
John frowned but nevertheless stepped in front of the mirror. At first he saw nothing, then a figure came into view. It was a boy with dark messy hair. Maybe it was Sherlock?
But as the image sharpened John realized it wasn't the Consulting Detective: It was Harry Potter. John's eyebrows furrowed. Why did he see Harry Potter of all people?
Before he could wonder anymore there was a sudden flash of green light. It hit Harry, sending him to the ground.
John gasped unable to turn his gaze from Harry's eyes. They starred up at him emptily. The boy was dead.
John backed away, his heart racing. "What does the mirror show?" he whispered. Maybe he'd misunderstood Sherlock or maybe it had been just a trick to discover his greatest fear. Sherlock and Artemis exchanged glances.
"It shows your deepest desire", Artemis confirmed. "What did you see?"
"Me. Winning the house cup."
John stammered the first thing that came to his mind. The world around him was spinning. His hidden desire was to murder Harry Potter. To murder an innocent boy. He couldn't even think of why, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.
"Sorry", he mumbled and stormed back to the entrance. He felt Sherlock's and Artemis' eyes following him but they were too surprised to hold him back. Or maybe they had expected exactly this.
The set of stairs had turned into a slide again, but when John said "stairs" they transformed back into one. On his way back to Gryffindor tower, it didn't cross his mind to try to move unnoticed, but lucky enough he wasn't spotted by Mrs Norris or any ghost.
He fell onto his bed breathing heavily. Certainly the mirror was mistaken; or Sherlock and Artemis were. Why would he want to kill Harry? He liked the boy.
He had almost calmed himself when his eyes fell on Harry's bed, which was still empty with only the Nimbus resting on it. He remembered the joy of flying and his anticipation for the game. Suddenly, he felt sick. Did he really want to murder Harry to acquire his position as a seeker?
John buried his face deep in his pillow, feeling mean and ashamed.
Artemis frowned at Sherlock. "Do you have any idea what happened?"
They were still standing in front of the Mirror of Erised. Sherlock shook his head slowly. Whatever John had seen in the mirror had deeply upset him, though. Sherlock wondered what it could've been. John had asked them to confirm if it was indeed desire the Mirror showed, so what he saw was probably something he hadn't expected to wish for.
Sherlock focused on John's reaction; recalling it in detail. John had frowned at first then his eyes had widened in shock. He tried to remember more, anything more specific that would give him a hint of what John had seen.
"Are you sure the mirror works?" he asked Artemis who nodded once again.
"Yes."
Sherlock waited for him to elaborate but the other boy didn't. Still musing, Sherlock stepped in front of the mirror as well. He was himself again, at the beginning of his thirties. He was smirking a little, and held a newspaper. Criminal Mastermind caught by Genius Detective the headline read. There were light bulbs flashing, and next to him there was John of course, beaming at him with admiration.
"See? It shows what it should, doesn't it?" Artemis sighed. "I think we can agree that whatever John saw wasn't the House Cup, though."
"Yes." Sherlock turned away from the mirror. "Even if he lied more convincingly, I would never believe that that's his greatest desire. Even so, he did seem quite excited for the Quidditch match... Speaking of which, did you get everything?"
Artemis nodded firmly. "Everything's ready."
John couldn't tell when he finally fell asleep, and the little sleep he got was unsteady and spoiled with nightmares of Harry's accusing eyes starring at him.
When it was time to get up, he just felt tired.
"Didn't sleep well?" Hermione asked in the Great Hall at break fast.
He shook his head. "Not particularly, no..."
"Well, I bet you'll catch the Snitch in no time anyway!" Ron clapped reassuringly on his back. "And honestly; Malfoy is such a dumb-ass he wouldn't get the Snitch even if it was right in front of his nose!"
"Don't underestimate the enemy, Ron." Wood had come to their table. "John, how are you feeling? Ready to show the Slytherins who is the best Quidditch team in school?"
John forced a smile, trying not to look into Wood excited eyes. Just yesterday he had been just as anxious for the game, but now all he could think off were Harry's dead green eyes starring at him accusingly. How could that possibly be his greatest desire, if he despised it so much?
"Of course he's ready", Fred cut in. "We're all ready, Wood!"
"Exactly", George confirmed. "Percy's just bet ten Galleons on our victory..."
"...and we wouldn't let him down!" said Fred.
The twins laughed as Percy glared at them, and John's smile became a little more natural.
Who cared about desires (especially when only shown by a magical mirror)? He simply wouldn't kill Harry because he didn't want to.
John was already on his way to the pitch when an absent-minded looking blond Ravenclaw girl asked him where his broom was. He felt his cheeks grow red and he turned around on his heels. He ran all the way up to Gryffindor Tower.
"Fortuna Mayor", he panted, not waiting for the Fat Lady to swig out of way herself, but pulling at her frame to make her open the Portrait Hole.
"Didn't the game already start?" the Fat Lady called after him, when he stormed out again with the Nimbus. He ignored her, sprinting down the stairs and corridors.
The castle was empty; most people were already down at the pitch. The sound of enormous raindrops hitting the castle's windows echoed in the empty corridors.
The path to the stadium was all muddy. John slipped at least twice in his hurry to get there on time, getting his robes covered with mud as well. He was just asking himself if he wouldn't be faster flying, when he bumped into someone who was also hurrying to the stadium.
"Sorry", he mumbled, looking up to see it was Professor Lupin whom he'd run into. He grimaced.
"You're late", the teacher said, and John couldn't help to think his voice sounded concerned in a 'what-have-you-been-up-to?' kind of way.
John bit away a 'So are you', and a 'How many points are you going to take from me this time?' but simply gave a polite nod, before continuing his way to the changing rooms.
"Where the hell have you been?" Wood snapped when John entered the locker room.
"Taking some laps for warm up", John panted. Wood looked as though John had lost his marbles, but as it still sounded better than the truth, John didn't add anything.
He changed into his red robes quickly, relieved to get out of his wet robes though he knew he wouldn't stay dry for more than some seconds.. When he was dressed, it was already time to go out.
A cold wind had picked up over the grounds. Even though it was barely noon, the dark clouds covering the sky blocked most of the sunlight so that they got the feeling it had to be late afternoon already.
"Awful weather to play in", Angelina muttered. John couldn't help but agree with her. He hoped the weather wasn't going to grow into a thunderstorm.
As though someone had listened to his thoughts, there appeared a flash of lightning. John scowled, then sighed. At least he might be able to spot the snitch more easily with the additional light.
"Get on your brooms!" Madame Hooch said, yelling to make herself heard over the rain. "On my command! Three...two...one!" The teacher whistled and fourteen players scuffed into the dark, clouded sky.
For John it was strange at first to have to dodge other players and Bludgers, but he got used to it quickly. What was troubling him more was the wind, which made the Nimbus almost as lazy as the school brooms.
As with the trails, he decided to do laps, scanning the stadium in the hope of finding the Snitch. The rain had gotten heavier, but he was still able to see most of the stadium.
Some yards beneath him Alicia had just caught the Quaffel and their teammates raced for the goal post, bailed forward by the commentator.
Then, John spotted the Snitch. He knew it was quite early, but he had almost gotten used to finding it within the first few minutes of flying. It was hard to believe some Quidditch Games went on for days. He glanced around. Malfoy was further away from the snitch than he was. He smiled and pushed the Nimbus through the storm.
He hardly noticed the sky suddenly becoming even darker, didn't notice as the crowd on the bleachers fell silent. He was too focused on the Snitch. The little ball tried to escape to the right, but he was already reaching for it.
Moments later, his fingers closed around the little ball. In triumph, he held up his hand... But no one cheered. Everything was silent.
When turned the Nimbus around and looked at the pitch beneath him, he saw them: Dementors. Hundreds of them. And then he heard the woman's voice again. "Not Harry! Not Harry! No...!"
It wasn't his mother's voice. He was certain about this now. Suddenly, a gust of wind struck him. He fell forward on his broom, but he couldn't get a good hold with one hand still holding the Snitch. He was cast off some yards and suddenly his head hit something hard.
Sherlock had never been this cold before. It felt as though his insides were filled with ice. He shivered. Why had they done this? Lured hundreds of Dementors to the field... It had been a stupid plan!
He shook his head, shoving away the thought. The Dementors were messing with his mind. He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, recalling John and their first chase, when they were chasing after the cab driver. He thought of how they'd leaned against the wall afterwards, panting heavy. He recalled the sound of John's laugh, the light feeling which had risen in his chest.
"Expecto Patronum!" A silver owl glided out of his wand, circling him once before it settled on his shoulder. The cold went away instantly and he felt his breaths calming. With a determined look he focused back on his task; despite being said to be of brave hearts, all of the Gryffindors looked frightened. Many of them were clutching their neighbours' hands, and a first year girl was crying quietly.
Sherlock went farther up the bleachers. He was just passing the Trio when Harry Potter sank to the ground. Apparently the rumours about him passing out at the train had been true, then. Sherlock simply elbowed past them, continuing his way to the top of stands, even though he had little hope of finding any other persons resistant to Dementors.
Sherlock had just reached the last row when the students woke from their terrified stupor. A gleaming white figure had appeared on the pitch and the Dementors were slowly backing away. Sherlock gave a small sigh. This meant his work was done. And it meant they were none the wiser as long as Artemis hadn't found someone in the other blocks.
He turned around and went back down to the pitch, scanning it for John. Had the mass of Dementors still not affected him? Remembering the cold still all too clearly, Sherlock couldn't help but think of what he would have given to show the same resistance.
The Gryffindor team had landed and gathered together, but there was no John. Sherlock frowned, concern rising in his chest. He quickened his steps, hurrying down to the pitch. Other students were floating onto the field as well, but it still should have been easy to spot John in his red robes. Finally, he saw the unmistakeable sandy hair.
"John!" he called, barely able to conceal his relief. "Where have you been? I..." His voice trailed off, as he noticed the clothes. "Oh, of course... Artemis."
"Exactly." Said the boy, who could have been John's twin brother. Or rather John himself. "What about John?"
"It's just I haven't spotted him yet... But I suppose there is no need to worry. What about you? Did you find someone?"
"No, all scared, nothing out of the ordinary." He glanced at his watch. "I have to go now... Don't want to be spotted when changing back."
Sherlock nodded absent-mindedly. There the hell could John be?
He knew it was hard to spot someone in a crowed of hundreds of students, but the longer he didn't find John the more uncomfortable he got.
"Still no trace of John?" Artemis, who was back in his own body, stepped up beside him. Sherlock shook his head.
"The trio didn't see him either. I met them when they were on their way up to the hospital wing" said Artemis.
"Hospital wing?"
"Harry passed out. I'm sure you noticed."
"Oh, of course, yes", Sherlock said quickly. Mycroft was right: caring was not an advantage; it slowed the mind.
By now, the students had started to leave. The pitch emptied slowly as the students went back to the castle, abnormally quiet.
"Common room?" he suggested.
Artemis shrugged; he didn't think that John would be there, but he wasn't going to argue with Sherlock. Maybe the Consulting Detective had some solid reason as to why John would be there.