Title: John, I'm a Wizard
Series: n/a
Fandoms: BBC!Sherlock/Harry Potter
Pairings: Pre-slash and slash Johnlock, established Mystrade, established Drarry
Author: Z-sama (dA user the-lady-harkness) and TWTL
Beta: Phil the Sherlotter
WARNINGS: See first chapter for all the warnings.
MISC: Warning - CLIFFHANGER. Don't hate us for it!... Also, this fic is up on tumblr with BONUS CONTENT. God help us all... sherlockmalfoy . tumblr . com
LAST LITTLE NOTE: Remember... o0o denotes scene changes. the lines across the page denote time period changes. it's pretty straight forward.
The morning of New Years Eve Lily went to check on her patient only to find him sitting up in the bed, very cross, and her brother dashing about the room throwing things into suitcases.
"For the love of- Sherlock! Stop packing!"
"Oi!" she snapped, slamming the door behind her as she stepped fully into the room. Sherlock cast an angry glare coupled with a vicious growl. In the time it took to blink she had her wand out, the spell rolled off her ruby lips, and Sherlock Holmes froze in the most ridiculous pose with arms full of wrapped gifts and multicolored socks.
"That's better," she said, but didn't put her wand away just yet. Then she turned her attention to John. "Glad to see you awake. Though I can see he's already put you in a foul mood."
"What's got him so-?"
"Now now dear. Let me just check on you and then I'll tell you all about it. I am, of course, the healer in charge of you right now." When she reached the bed, she stood beside it and flicked her wand about. Humming as she received the full progress reports in the positive. "Good, good. I think you're out of the woods now, Dr. Watson. But no running around after my brother for at least a month. You've been through a lot, and need to build your strength back up."
Once she was satisfied, she sat on the side of the bed and placed her wand across her lap. "Now then, I'm sure my brother has managed to tell you part of what has happened between fits of frustration and overprotective rage. That's just his way. Do you have any questions, or anything he didn't really explain so that you could understand?"
He stared at her like she had grown a second head. But she smiled all the same and reached over to pat his hand. "I understand this is very difficult for you, and you do not quite comprehend the ordeal that you have endured. I will start from the beginning."
And she did. Briefly she told him the information passed on to her about what had happened in that room between her brother and the dark wizards. Of the dementor, and the effects it had on John. He offered a fuzzy recollection of a shrouded wraith, and had started to describe the experience for her. She squeezed his hand when his voice had started to break. He'd told her about the very brief memories of Afghanistan that he'd suddenly been forced to remember, but when he got to the one that had tortured him over and over; all he could manage to get out was a rushed bit about a desperate phone call. She stopped him before he went further, not wanting to distress him even more.
Once he had calmed, she continued. Telling him of her brother's two day disappearance and that Mycroft, Lestrade, and a few others had helped to move John to this very bed. Of her tired, sleepless nights until Sherlock came back to take her place standing vigil. At this John cut his eyes back over to his dear friend, still frozen with a look of indignant frustration on his face and an arm load of presents and socks. He couldn't help the ghost of a smile that came upon him.
"And he says he's a cold, heartless bastard."
"I told him the same," she said, giving his hand a squeeze again. She told him about Sherlock's wild idea with the potion, which got an angry "You could have killed me!" from John before she was allowed to continue. Explaining how he went into the coma in the first place. She conveniently left out the parts about this Mary woman's ultimate fate, and the row Sherlock had had with their father. She didn't even explain the connection the cuff on his arm had forged between them, nor the fact that John now carried traces of her brother's magic inside him.
For one, she didn't want to discuss Sherlock's idiot actions and the idea of explaining what the unintentional bonds meant on a personal level was far too intimate a thing for her to talk about with him. As a general concept, she had no qualms about it, and indeed it was a common enough occurrence in the medical field... between married and bonded couples that is. But with John she would have had to explain it in great detail so that he would understand. That was right on the list of inappropriate things alongside naked pictures of one's spouse and sleeping with your neighbor's husband. It was a bit not good.
For second, that was her brother's fault, so it was her brother's job.
When she had finished, she waited for it to sink in a few minutes before speaking again. "I know it's a lot to take in, John. And I'm really sorry this has happened to you. For what it's worth, nearly all of the surviving attackers have been either sent to Azkaban or have already met with swift justice by other means." From the way John glanced up at her she knew he understood what it meant. Mycroft had dealt with them, in his own fashion.
"If there's nothing else then I'll-"
"Was that really Mary?" John asked, his voice matching the pained expression he now gave her. "The one who..."
She shrugged. "You call her Mary, but to us she's known by another name. The Lady Maria Astoria Moran. Widow. Younger than I am, and she was very powerful. She escaped from Azkaban, where Sco... Mycroft and I placed her after Sherlock broke her hold over you." She glanced over her shoulder at Sherlock, and didn't look away as she continued. "It doesn't matter now. What's done is done. You'll need to speak with my brother about the rest."
She waited for John to respond, but when no response came she stood. "I'll go inform the others of your progress. If you like, I can warn them off for another day until you're feeling up for visitors."
"Sherlock wants to leave," he said.
"And I want to play Quidditch. Neither is going to happen any time soon. Brother," she said a bit louder. "I'll unfreeze you. But you must stop packing. John isn't leaving until I've cleared him to travel."
o0o
Five heads turned to look towards the door of the small, informal dining room when two extra plates appeared on the table. Beside one another and in front of two empty chairs. John appeared first, followed very closely by Sherlock. The family watched in silence as John walked unsteadily, but under his own steam, to the nearest empty seat, across from Mycroft.
"He's still alive," Lestrade said with a big grin on his face. He'd been worried, even after Lily had told them his fellow muggle would be fine. "Good God man, you had us all scared half to death!"
John gave a weak smile and an uneasy laugh. "What doesn't kill you," he said, and it was obvious he hadn't the faintest clue what he could possibly say to make the situation less tense.
With a pop, a house elf arrived to pull back the chair for him. Sherlock, on the other hand, shooed it away with a low growl before doing it himself.
"God damn it Sherlock I'm not made of glass!" John snapped suddenly, glaring at him and pushing his hands away from the chair. "Sit down and leave me be for five bloody minutes!"
Harry glanced to Lily for some sort of explanation. She only shrugged as the two men sat down beside one another. Mycroft's eyes narrowed as he brought a teacup to his lips. After a few awkward moments of tense silence, Draco cleared his throat. "We are all relieved to see you in good health." He looked to Harry, a pleasant expression on his face despite the delicate mood around the table. "I believe the last muggle to encounter a dementor so closely had been your horrendous cousin Dudley, if I'm not mistaken."
Sherlock glared towards the head of the table where his father sat. If looks could kill...
Harry nodded, hurriedly trying to fill the vocal void. "Oh yes. Well, the last documented case that is. There's plenty more that go unnoticed, but less so these days since there isn't a war on. But yes. He had to spend the following six months in the country at his aunt Marge's. Apparently the fresh air was meant to help him recover quicker."
"Why is my plate covered in chocolate?" John said suddenly, looking around at all the others. Sure enough, everyone else had typical luncheon fare. Meats, cheeses, sandwiches. Mycroft had some sort of vegetable soup. No doubt part of his diet. But John... Chocolate.
"Sorry," Lily said. "I told them to bring it to you upstairs. To nibble on in small amounts. It helps raise the serotonin levels, which allows those affected by the dementors to recover quicker and easier."
Harry couldn't help but smile and give a blurted laugh, drawing John's attention away from his plate. "It really does help. I'm sure, being a muggle, you've heard the story about my third year at Hogwarts?"
Lily looked to her brothers uneasily after watching the scowl appear on her father's face before he buried his attention back into his newspaper. Sherlock visibly tensed, and Lestrade suddenly found the bit of potato on his plate the most interesting thing in the world.
John swallowed and gave a nod, remembering Sherlock's warnings before about bringing up those books in conversation. "Y... Yes. Actually, that was the very one I'd read while in hospital." He glanced at the others before continuing. "So chocolate really does work?" he asked cautiously.
Harry gave a nod. "Remus always had a bit of it in his pocket. Madame Pomfrey used to keep a block in her stores as big as Hagrid's head. It never seemed to get any smaller, no matter how much she hacked off and gave out."
Draco snorted. "And you'd know. You were in the infirmary so much they kept a bed reserved for you."
Mycroft couldn't help but smirk."Oh yes. I believe by the time I had arrived they had placed a plaque on the wall above it, proclaiming it to be the personal bed of The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice."
Harry's cheeks turned red. Lily watched from the corner of her eye as John picked up a piece of chocolate. He inspected it closely before putting it into his mouth. Just past him, Sherlock quietly pushed his plate towards his friend before picking up his teacup for a sip.
She hid her smile behind her sandwich and listened as everyone bickered and argued over which newspaper monikers Harry hated the most and whether or not the secret chambers of Rowena Ravenclaw could be accessed through the Room of Requirement or if one had to search the Ravenclaw common room for them.
As lunch began winding down, Harry had left to help Draco to his study. Greg had been forced to get between the brothers to keep them from plotting complete world domination or destruction. He couldn't be sure which, really.
House elves popped in and out to clear the table around the two remaining bodies. John sagged back in his chair with a groan. He was still a bit sore, and his head hurt like hell. But it was pounding long before he'd come down for lunch.
"I'm surprised you're up and about," Lily said after a while. "If my brother had his way, you'd probably be handcuffed to the bed."
John shook his head. "That's a vision I really didn't need right now."
She frowned, watching him closely as he picked at the remainder of what was supposed to have been Sherlock's lunch. "Do you want to talk about it? I mean, you don't have to. That's entirely up to you. But I find sometimes-"
"I don't need a bloody therapist."
"No, you don't. But you do need someone who actually understands what the hell is going on," she replied, a bit harsher than she'd realized when she saw John tense. Then, she softened just a bit. "Look, I don't know or understand what exactly you've gone through. I've never faced down a dementor close up. Mummy has, and he might be able to help you make some sense of it. As for everything else, well... if you feel weirder than usual, or strange spots show up. Let me know so I can have a look. I am, after all, a trained medical professional."
She watched his face as he continued to nibble and pick at the food before he finally pushed it away. A pop sounded, and a fresh pot of tea was placed on the table, with more chocolates before the elf that had delivered them disappeared again. John stared at the teapot, his hands in his lap - the fingers of one wrapped around the cuff on his opposing wrist. She noticed this, but didn't say anything. She suspected her brother may have told him something of it after all. Her suspicions were confirmed when he broke the heavy silence that had fallen.
"This thing saved my life," he said as she poured them both a fresh, hot cup of tea. She didn't know how he took it, exactly, so she left his as it was in front of him. "He said it has to come off, though. When we get home."
She sat back and sipped her tea, peering over the rim of her cup before setting it back down on a saucer. "And it should. He shouldn't have put it on you in the first place." She turned, getting more comfortable and crossing her legs. One arm draped over the back of her chair. "At least not before telling you exactly what it was and what it's used for."
He finally reached out for his cup, moving it closer and not bothering to fix it the way he liked. She sighed. He probably wouldn't be drinking it then. Such a waste of a nice Earl Grey. But he held it, both hands wrapped around it like the delicate bone china was a common ceramic mug. "Thing is, I don't think I want him to take it off."
"He told you it lets you see things in our world muggles don't normally get to see."
He nodded.
"And that it marks you as a muggle who's been allowed to come here. A sort of passport between our two worlds."
Again he nodded.
"He told you it protects you from stray hexes and spells."
A third time, he nodded.
"He also told you Greg wears one as well."
"Yeah."
"And you know why Greg wears one? That it lets him live in our world as easily as my brothers live in yours?"
He thought for a long moment. Then slowly, he nodded. She wasn't sure what was going through his mind, and she wasn't that great a legillimens that she'd try it on an unsuspecting muggle to find out either. "You said before," he started. "You lot give these to muggles when you want to, what? Bring us into your world? But that's not all. You were going to say something in the library, but you'd changed the subject." He paused and looked up at her, and she swore in that instant, from the look he gave her, that no matter what he asked or said she would have no other recourse but to answer and agree. She wondered, briefly, how often her brother was put under that stubborn and determined stare.
"Greg wears one, because he's shagging Mycroft. Real shocker that one. But makes sense really. After everything... It's like some sort of weird wizard engagement thing for muggles, isn't it. We don't have magic so it's not like we can actually do the whole traditional wizardy... whatever it is you lot do instead of a proper proposal with flashy ring and everything."
It was her turn to nod. "Yes," she said. "Wizards give them to muggles they intend to bond with. If they formally marry, then the cuffs generally are removed and replaced with a proper wedding ring. Helps to blend in with muggle society. And before that, the bracelets and cuffs can be hidden under sleeves. Or trouser legs if it's one for an ankle." She could feel her cheeks heating up as she explained.
"And your idiot brother just slapped it on me, no other explanations than what I can benefit from it. Did he have any intention of ever taking it off me? I tried to pry the damn thing off after you left earlier and he'd told me... but-"
"It won't. I know. He's the only one that can take it off you, otherwise I would have done so after you'd woken up." She frowned then, recalling his earlier statement. "I thought you said you didn't want him to do it."
"I'm weighing my options."
She nodded. Obviously she was meant to give him further information that her brother did not volunteer. With a sigh, she reached for her cup again and took another sip. "Alright. You want to see how far the rabbit hole goes. Fair enough. Did he tell you exactly how it saved your life then?"
"It sort of put me in the coma, so he said."
"Yeah. It did. After the dementor tried to suck the soul right out of you. I don't know how to really put this in terms you can understand. I've never... I mean, this is so intimate a subject and it really should be my brother telling you this-"
"But he won't. No matter what you or I say, he won't tell me a damn thing other than I'll be fine. And he still won't tell me what happened to Mary-"
"One thing at a time!" she exclaimed in exasperation. "The Mary thing, he'll have to tell you at some point. He was in there with you, not me. And Mycroft didn't break in with the cavalry until the end. As for this, this I can tell you." She pointed to his wrist, the silver gleaming in the light from the chandelier above. She swallowed hard, trying to put her words in order. "Alright," she said under his open and expectant gaze. "Thing is, when it tried to take your Spark, that's what we call it when the glowy soul thing comes out, the wild magic of the binding bracelet reacted. But the entire time you've been wearing it, it's been linking you magically to my brother. Binding you to him. That's what it does." She paused, waiting for him to comment. He never did, so she continued. "In order to do this, it draws on his magic, and creates a sort of bridge, or loop. Because you're muggle, the bracelet acts as an anchor for his magic. Well, when it reacted... it sort of forced a connection. And I can't tell you specifics without further study."
His eyes narrowed now as he processed the information, seeming to silently press her for a further explanation.
"Preliminary testing after his frankly dangerous heroics with your well being showed traces of magic where there should be absolutely none. I mean, I'd believed with everyone else that the pair of you were... you know..." She paused to see if he'd take the bait, but he remained silent. She didn't know if he was contemplating her words or sitting in a silent fury. It was so very hard to tell with those she hardly knew. She swallowed hard. "Clearly it's not the case. Sorry for any assumptions on my part. Mycroft didn't exactly clarify it for anyone. And we were just so happy m brother found someone who can stand him for longer than five minutes without trying to kill him." She shrugged. Still, a stony silence.
She opened her mouth, but then he finally spoke. "I have magic now. Is that what you're saying?"
Lily shook her head. "No. Not... Not like that. Oh... how can I put this in terms you can understand."
"Try."
"It's like, it's like, erm... cats. Like, they'll rub their faces all over everything right. Put their scent on it. Basically, it's like that. Only with magic. He's basically rubbed his face all over your soul so everyone and everything knows to keep away."
"He's bloody marked me like some..." He stood from his chair, hands unwrapping from his cup and slamming the table in tightly controlled anger. "Like some giant cat!"
She winced at his tone, knowing she'd not quite explained it properly. But it was too late to take back her words now. Even if she tried to obliviate the last five minutes from his mind, her brother would hex her back into her preteens. "John, it isn't- Let me try again! He didn't intend for that to happen!"
He was storming off, and she knew she just had to catch him before he found Sherlock. She nearly had to run to catch up with him. To see him, no one would suspect that up until that morning he was laid up in bed, out cold from the world. "John! It was an accident!" She reached out for his arm, barely getting her nimble fingers on his bicep and holding on tight. He turned a venomous blue glare at her; a sapphire volcano waiting to explode.
"Wild magic has consequences. That's what's in that bracelet. He foolishly used it to try and keep you safe while you're here. My family still has a lot of enemies, and he just wanted to make sure you were protected."
"He doesn't bloody think about these things!" John railed angrily. "I don't need protecting!" He pulled away from her and continued on. He didn't know, exactly, where he was heading. The manor was far too big for him to remember every twist and turn. But he hadn't cared one bit. He just had to get away from her, and find Sherlock.
"You stupid muggle!" she called after him when it became apparent that he wasn't going to stop, and she couldn't force him to. "He protects you because he's in love with you!"