St Mungo's Hospital

John and Sherlock were not, in fact, spending quality time together. Sherlock had had a sudden thought during that evening's DA meeting, and dragged John to the nearest empty classroom as soon as it was over.

'What's wrong?' John said, sitting on a desk.

'It's an Invisibility Cloak,' he said, grabbing John by the shoulders. 'That's why you can't see who Nagini is attacking, they're under an Invisibility Cloak!'

John blinked. 'I think you might be right,' he said.

'Try looking again.'

John nodded, closing his eyes. It was easy for him now. As soon as he reached for it, the vision of the dark corridor came to him. Pitch black as always, John found himself watching Nagini slither across the floor. He shivered involuntarily, but forced himself to look at the door she was sliding towards, rather than watching her as he usually did. Now that he knew what he was looking for, he searched for a disturbance in the air, a cloud like the one that concealed Barty Crouch Jr at the World Cup. He went closer to the door, and the edges of the cloud shifted in the dark. 'I see it,' he muttered.

'Can you see underneath?' Sherlock prompted.

'Erm…' John frowned and gripped Sherlock. He tried getting closer, but now the door itself was blurring John's vision, as though what was beyond it didn't want to be seen. He shook his head and went closer. 'I - I'm trying.'

'Sit down,' Sherlock said, guiding him to one of the desks to sit on.

The door blurred his vision even more, but he pressed on until he finally saw past the Cloak to the shock of red hair and glasses.

John gasped and let go of the vision. 'Mr Weasley,' he stammered. 'It's Mr Weasley.'

Sherlock held his hands. 'Did you see when?'

John shook his head. 'There was nothing there that showed me when it was.'

'All right,' Sherlock nodded. 'We'll just go to Dumbledore and have him warn Mr Weasley.'

John hopped off the desk and followed Sherlock outside, doubling over as he was hit by a wave of dizziness.

'I'm okay, just give me a second.'

It took another twenty minutes and a cup of water before it subsided, and John pulled himself together, hurrying to Dumbledore's office.

'Fizzing Whizzbee,' Sherlock said to the gargoyle that guarded the entrance. It leapt aside and allowed them up the stairs, where Sherlock hammered on the door.

The door opened on its own, and Fawkes the phoenix opened an eye to look at them. He called softly, then fluttered over to sit on Sherlock's shoulder.

'Good evening, Professor,' Sherlock said to Dumbledore, who was sitting at his desk, wearing an embroidered purple dressing gown.

'Good evening,' he replied. 'To what do I owe the pleasure?'

'Sorry it's so late,' said John.

'No, not at all, take a seat.'

John sat before the desk. 'You need to warn Mr Weasley - or take him off guard duty, actually nevermind, that means it would be someone else-'

'John, you're rambling,' Sherlock said.

John shook his head. 'Right. Anyway, I saw Nagini attacking him in a hallway at the Ministry, we know the Order is trying to protect something, and obviously Voldemort wants whatever it is, so he's sending Nagini to try and get in, you have to warn him,' he babbled.

Dumbledore abruptly got to his feet and went to the fireplace.

'He's on duty tonight, isn't he?' Sherlock said, turning pale.

Dumbledore didn't answer. He threw some green powder onto the fire and stepped into it. 'The Burrow!' he said, and disappeared.

John got up and paced around the room wringing his hands. 'Do you think he'll be okay?'

Sherlock just reached up to scratch Fawkes on the neck.

'Oh great, that's really reassuring.'

Sherlock stood in front of John and made him stop pacing. 'Even if we couldn't stop the attack, we've given them enough time to find him. I'm sure he'll be all right.'

John pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed and grabbed Sherlock for a hug. 'I have to find a way to get better at this,' he said. 'What's the point in seeing these things if I can't help?'

Sherlock rubbed his back. 'There was nothing more you could have done. As you said, there was nothing there to indicate when the attack would happen.'

Then the fire blazed green again and Dumbledore reappeared, stepping out of the fire.

'Did you catch him?' John asked.

Dumbledore shook his head, then addressed a couple of the many portraits on the wall.

'Everard?' he said sharply. 'And you too, Dilys.'

A sallow-faced wizard with a short black fringe and an elderly witch with long silver ringlets in the frame beside him, both of whom seemed to have been in the deepest of sleeps, opened their eyes immediately.

'You were listening?' said Dumbledore.

'Naturally,' said the witch.

'The man has red hair and glasses,' said Dumbledore. 'Everard, you will need to raise the alarm. Make sure he's found by the right people.'

Both nodded and moved sideways out of their frames, but instead of emerging in neighbouring pictures, neither reappeared. One frame now contained nothing but a backdrop of dark curtain, the other a handsome leather chair.

'Everard and Dilys were two of Hogwarts's most celebrated Heads,' Dumbledore said, sweeping around the desk and encouraging Fawkes from Sherlock's shoulder to his arm. 'Their renown is such that both have portraits hanging in other important wizarding institutions. As they are free to move between their own portraits, they can tell us what may be happening elsewhere.'

John nodded. 'I'll watch him too,' he said, a lot more confidently than he felt, sitting down at the desk.

It took a moment and squeezing Sherlock's hand to find Mr Weasley sitting outside the door he was guarding, still under the Invisibility Cloak. It was easier to watch him in real time, rather than casting his mind around for the incident when he didn't know when it would happen.

'It hasn't happened yet,' he muttered, and settled in to watch Mr Weasley.

It was agony, standing there without being able to warn him, but John knew he must watch, and hopefully get help in the right direction. He heard a noise at the other end of the hallway and gasped. 'She's here,' he whispered, grabbing Sherlock's arm.

His heart hammered in his chest as he watched her get closer to Mr Weasley, and he looked around desperately for the help that was supposed to be coming. 'Hurry up,' he muttered. He looked down at Nagini, instinctively stepping away from her, despite not really being there. She was horrible to look at. She blurred as she moved, but she seemed heavy, as though dragging something with her. Her tongue flicked in and out, she had clearly noticed Mr Weasley, but she didn't attack straight away. He held his breath. Maybe she wouldn't attack him after all.

But then Mr Weasley woke with a start and jumped to his feet, the Cloak slipping to the floor as he yanked his wand from his belt.

Nagini wasted no time and struck hard at Mr Weasley, sinking her fangs into his side.

John cried out and lost grip on the vision, gasping for breath. He could almost feel the bite himself, and there was an immense pressure in the same side Mr Weasley had been bitten. 'He's bleeding!' John gasped, holding his side and crumpling up in his chair. He held on to the edge of the desk, but couldn't bring himself to go back to Mr Weasley, unwilling to watch the life seep out of him.

'He's not going to die,' Sherlock insisted. 'They'll find him.'

John nodded, scrubbing his face with his hands, and realising he was shaking.

Just then, there was another knock at the door and Professor McGonagall burst in wearing her tartan dressing gown, accompanied by an extremely ill-looking Harry, and an anxious Ron.

'Professor Dumbledore, Potter has had a… well, a nightmare,' said Professor McGonagall. 'He says…'

'It wasn't a nightmare,' Harry said quickly

'Very well, Potter, you tell the Headmaster about it.'

'I… well, I was asleep,' said Harry, 'but it wasn't an ordinary dream… it was real… I saw it happen.' He took a deep breath. 'Ron's dad - Mr Weasley - has been attacked by a giant snake.'

John squinted at Harry. 'It was Nagini,' he said slowly. 'You - you saw it too?' He was suddenly thrown back to the vision, only this time it was blurred with the same vision but from another perspective- from inside Nagini's eyes. He groaned, the blurring, as well as the malice emanating from the snake churned his stomach. His head once again felt as though it were in a vice.

'Should a snake feel like that?' he mumbled to Sherlock.

'You-Know-Who's snake? I would say so,' Sherlock said.

'Yeah, but she's still just a snake, even if she does belong to him.'

'I wouldn't hesitate in thinking that he's cast some sort of spell on her, to bind her to him, or something like that. Normal snakes aren't obedient at all.'

John nodded. 'I suppose that makes sense.'

Harry finished describing how he had seen the attack, and Dumbledore conjured more chairs for all of them.

'We will need a warning,' Dumbledore said softly to Fawkes.

There was a flash of fire and the phoenix was gone.

Dumbledore then swooped down on one of his delicate silver instruments and carried it over to the desk. He sat down, then tapped it gently with his wand.

The instrument tinkled to life and tiny puffs of green smoke issued from the miniscule silver tube at the top. Dumbledore watched the smoke closely, his brow furrowed. After a few seconds, the tiny puffs became a steady stream of smoke that thickened and coiled in the air… a serpent's head grew out of the end of it, opening its mouth wide.

John felt sick again looking at it, and he grabbed for the small metal bin that Dumbledore kept at the end of his desk.

'Naturally, naturally,' murmured Dumbledore, apparently to himself, still observing the stream of smoke without the slightest sign of surprise. 'But in essence divided?'

The smoke serpent split itself instantly into two snakes, both coiling and undulating in the air.

John's head throbbed and he retched over the bin, his eyes watering.

Dumbledore gave the instrument another gentle tap and the serpents grew faint, becoming a formless haze, then vanishing. Dumbledore replaced it with the other instruments on their spindly little table, then Everard reappeared in his portrait, panting slightly.

'Dumbledore!'

'What news?' Dumbledore said at once.

'I yelled until someone came running,' said the wizard, 'said I'd heard something moving downstairs - they weren't sure whether to believe me but went down to check - you know there are no portraits down there to watch from. Anyway, they carried him up a few minutes later. He doesn't look good, he's covered in blood, I ran along to Elfrida Cragg's portrait to get a good view as they left.'

'Good,' said Dumbledore. 'I take it Dilys will have seen him arrive, then - '

And moments later, the silver-ringleted witch had reappeared in her picture too. She sank, coughing, into her armchair and said, 'Yes, they've taken him to St Mungo's, Dumbledore… they carried him past my portrait… he looks bad…'

'Thank you,' said Dumbledore. He looked around at Professor McGonagall. 'Minerva, I need you to go and wake the other Weasley children.'

'Of course.' Professor McGonagall got up and moved swiftly to the door. 'What about Molly?' she asked, pausing at the door.

'That will be a job for Fawkes when he has finished keeping a lookout for anybody approaching,' said Dumbledore. 'But she may already know, that excellent clock of hers…'

John shuddered, hunched up in the chair. His head was throbbing and Sherlock was firmly squeezing his shoulder. He could still just about see Mr Weasley, blood all over his robes.

'Stop looking at him,' Sherlock whispered.

'I can't help it,' John murmured back. 'Do you think you could - I mean you've helped me suppress it before…'

'Of course.'

John sighed in relief as the vision filling his mind was pushed away and replaced by the familiar impression of Sherlock. 'Thank you,' he whispered.

Dumbledore was now rummaging in a cupboard. He emerged from it carrying a blackened old kettle, which he placed carefully on his desk. He raised his wand and murmured, 'Portus!' For a moment the kettle trembled, glowing with an odd blue light; then it quivered to rest, as solidly black as ever.

Dumbledore then marched over to another portrait, this time of a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard, who had been painted wearing the Slytherin colours of green and silver and was apparently so deeply asleep that he could not hear Dumbledore's voice.

'Phineas. Phineas.'

The subjects of the other portraits were no longer pretending to be asleep; they were shifting around in their frames, the better to watch what was happening. When the clever-looking wizard continued to feign sleep, some of them shouted his name, too.

'Phineas! Phineas! PHINEAS!'

He could not pretend any longer; he gave a theatrical jerk and opened his eyes.

'Did someone call?'

'I need you to visit your other portrait again, Phineas,' said Dumbledore. 'I've got another message.'

'Visit my other portrait?' said Phineas in a reedy voice, giving a long, fake yawn. 'Oh, no, Dumbledore, I am too tired tonight.'

The portraits on the surrounding walls broke into a storm of protest.

'Insubordination, sir!' roared a red-nosed wizard, brandishing his fists. 'Dereliction of duty!'

'We are honour-bound to give service to the present Headmaster of Hogwarts!' cried a frail old wizard. 'Shame on you, Phineas!'

'Shall I persuade him, Dumbledore?' called another witch, rolling up her sleeves and raising an unusually thick wand.

'Oh, very well,' said the wizard called Phineas, eyeing the wand, 'though he may well have destroyed my picture by now, he's done away with most of the family-'

'Sirius knows not to destroy your portrait,' said Dumbledore. 'You are to give him the message that Arthur Weasley is gravely injured and that his wife, children, Harry, John and Sherlock will be arriving at his house shortly. Do you understand?'

'Arthur Weasley, injured, wife and children coming to stay,' recited Phineas in a bored voice. 'Yes, yes… very well…'

He sloped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view at the very moment the office door opened again. Fred, George and Ginny were ushered inside by Professor McGonagall, all three of them looking dishevelled and shocked, still in their nightclothes.

'Harry - what's going on?' asked Ginny, who looked frightened. 'Professor McGonagall says you saw Dad get hurt-'

'Your father has been injured in the course of his work for the Order of the Phoenix,' said Dumbledore before Harry or John could speak. 'He has been taken to St Mungo's hospital. I am sending you back to Sirius's house, which is much more convenient for the hospital than The Burrow. You will meet your mother there.'

John groaned, already feeling the terrible atmosphere of Grimmauld Place.

'How're we getting there?' asked Fred, looking shaken. 'Floo powder?'

'No,' said Dumbledore, 'Floo powder is not safe at the moment, the Network is being watched. You will be taking a Portkey.' He indicated the old kettle lying innocently on the desk. 'We are just waiting for Phineas Nigellus to report back… I want to be sure that the coast is clear before sending you -'

There was a flash of flame in the middle of the office and a single golden feather floated to the floor.

'It is Fawkes's warning,' said Dumbledore, catching the feather. 'Professor Umbridge must know you're out of your beds… Minerva, go and head her off - tell her any story -'

Professor McGonagall was gone in a swish of tartan.

'He says he'll be delighted,' said a bored voice; the wizard called Phineas had reappeared in front of his Slytherin banner. 'My great-great-grandson has always had an odd taste in house-guests.'

'Come here, then,' said Dumbledore to the Weasleys, Harry, John and Sherlock. 'And quickly, before anyone else joins us.'

They gathered around Dumbledore's desk, John's wobbly knees barely holding up.

'You have all used a Portkey before?' They all nodded and reached out to touch a bit of the kettle. 'Good. On the count of three, then… one...two…'

In the moment before Dumbledore said 'three', white hot pain shot through John's already throbbing head. He almost let go of the Portkey, and it was only Sherlock's free arm around his shoulders that stopped him from falling away.

'...three.'

The ground vanished beneath them, and they all sped forwards in a rush of wind and swirl of colours, until their feet hit solid ground again in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place.

John's knees buckled and he found himself unable to get up again, the oppressive malice of the house already pressing against him. Sherlock yanked him to his feet just as Sirius ordered Kreacher from the room.

'What's going on?' Sirius asked, helping Ginny up. 'Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured-'

'Ask Harry and John,' said Fred.

'Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,' said George.

The twins and Ginny all stared at Harry and John.

'It was - it was - I had a - a kind of - vision…' Harry said.

John sunk down onto a seat at the table, not paying much attention, as he had heard all this already. He noticed that Harry was now describing it as though he had been watching from the sidelines, rather than through Nagini's eyes.

'I've been seeing it for a while,' John told them miserably, once Harry was finished. 'But I couldn't see who it was until earlier when we realised he was under an Invisibility Cloak.'

'Is Mum here?' said Fred, turning to Sirius.

'She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,' said Sirius. 'The important thing is we got you away before Umbridge could interfere. Dumbledore's probably letting Molly know now.'

'We've got to go to St Mungo's,' Ginny said urgently, looking around her brother who were, of course, still in their pajamas. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?'

'Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St Mungo's,' said Sirius.

''Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want,' said Fred. 'He's our dad!'

'And how are you going to explain how you knew Arthur was attacked before the hospital even let his wife know?'

'What does that matter?' said George hotly.

'It matters because we don't want to draw attention to the fact that Harry's having visions of things happening hundreds of miles away!' said Sirius. 'Do you have any idea what the Ministry would do with that kind of information?'

'What about John?' Ginny pointed out. 'They don't do anything about the fact that he's a Seer, who says they'd even care that Harry had some kind of vision?'

John groaned quietly. 'Let's not "what about John" at this time of night.'

'The difference is that the Ministry doesn't consider John much of a threat,' said Sherlock. 'But considering their smear campaign against both Harry and Dumbledore, there's no telling how they might react to this. Not to mention what Umbridge might do directly.'

Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything.

'Listen, you dad's been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order's-' Sirius began.

'We don't care about the dumb Order!' shouted Fred.

'It's our dad dying we're talking about!' yelled George.

'Your father knew what he was getting into and he won't thank you for messing things up for the Order!' said Sirius, equally as angry. 'This is how it is - this is why you're not in the Order - you don't understand - there are things worth dying for!'

'Easy for you to say, stuck here!' bellowed Fred. 'I don't see you risking your neck!'

Sirius looked for a moment as though he'd quite like to hit Fred.

'I'm not usually one to be cautious,' said Sherlock, 'but we don't know everything at play here.'

'I know it's hard,' said Sirius, his voice calm but firm. 'We've all got to act as though we don't know anything yet. We've got to stay put, at least until we hear from your mother, all right?'

Fred and George looked mutinous, but Ginny sunk down in the nearest chair to her. Ron shrugged and he too sat down. The twins glared at Sirius, then sat down either side of Ginny.

'That's right,' Sirius said encouragingly, 'come on, let's all… let's all have a drink while we're waiting. Accio Butterbeer!'

Bottles flew out of the kitchen and skidded along the table, stopping neatly in front of each of them.

John didn't touch his, he just rested his head on his arm with Sherlock sitting next to him squeezing his hand.

The room was quiet but for the soft thumps of the bottles being put down on the table.

Then a burst of fire in midair illuminated the table and a scroll of parchment fell with a thud onto it, accompanied by a golden phoenix feather.

'Fawkes!' said Sirius at once, snatching up the parchment. 'That's not Dumbledore's handwriting - it must be a message from your mother - here -'

He thrust the letter into George's hand, who ripped it open and read aloud: 'Dad is alive. I am setting out for St Mungo's now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.'

George looked around the table.

'Still alive…' he said slowly. 'But that makes it sound…'

'I'll watch him,' John mumbled, grabbing the nearest Weasley, which turned out to be Ron, and watched Mr Weasley through him.

It wasn't clear a lot of the time, but John was determined to watch, no matter how much the house and its previous inhabitants pressed in on him.

The rest of them sat in silence. Sirius suggested, without any real conviction, that they all go to bed, but the Weasleys' looks of disgust were answer enough.

The candles on the table flickered, the wicks sinking lower and lower as the night drew onwards.

Fred fell into a doze, his head lolling sideways on his shoulder. Ginny curled up like a cat in her chair, but with her eyes wide open. John could barely keep himself awake, but with one hand on Ron and the other clutching Sherlock's hand, he had to keep watch.

At five o'clock in the morning, John finally let go of Ron, lifting his head.

'He's going to be okay,' he mumbled, his voice cracking and hoarse.

A sigh of relief ran around the table, and George elbowed Fred awake.

'Your mum's on her way…'

John's head nodded, but he squeezed Sherlock's hand even harder. He didn't want to fall asleep until he had seen Mrs Weasley in person.

It was only another ten minutes before the kitchen door swung open and Mrs Weasley entered the room. She was extremely pale, but gave a wan smile when they all turned to look at her.

'He's sleeping,' she said, her voice weak with tiredness.

'We can all go and see him later. Bill's sitting with him now; he's going to take the morning off work.'

Fred put his hands over his face, Fred and Ginny got up and hugged their mother, and Ron gave a short, shaky laugh and downed the rest of his Butterbeer.

'Breakfast!' said Sirius loudly, jumping to his feet. 'Where's that accursed house-elf? Kreacher! KREACHER!'

But Kreacher did not answer the summons.

'Oh, forget it then,' muttered Sirius. 'So, it's breakfast for - let's see - nine… bacon and eggs, I think, and some tea, and toast-'

Sirius hurried over to the stove and Harry followed him.

John slumped into Sherlock and burst into exhausted tears.

'It's all right,' Sherlock murmured. 'He's going to be all right.'

Then Mrs Weasley sat down next to him and pulled him into a fierce hug.

'I'm sorry,' John stammered. 'I'm sorry, I - I should have seen him sooner-'

'No,' said Mrs Weasley, rubbing his back. 'You did everything you could. All three of you,' she added, nodding at Sherlock and Harry. 'I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't seen him at all. They might not have found him for hours, and then it would have been too late, but thanks to you all, he's alive, and Dumbledore's been able to think up a good cover for Arthur being where he was, you've no idea the trouble he would have been otherwise.'

John wiped his face, but the tears kept dripping down cheeks.

'Oh, Sirius, I'm so grateful,' Mrs Weasley said, turning to him. 'They think he'll be there for a little while, and it would be wonderful to be nearer… of course, that might mean we're here for Christmas.'

'The more the merrier!' said Sirius with such obvious sincerity that Mrs Weasley beamed at him, threw on an apron and began to help with breakfast.

Harry and Sirius disappeared into the pantry, and John considered going to bed, but he was very hungry.

'I can bring it up for you, if you want to go and rest,' Sherlock murmured, gently stroking his cheek.

John shook his head. He didn't want to leave the room alone. 'I'll wait,' he whispered. He made an effort to eat some of the bacon that Mrs Weasley put in front of him, and he drained the cup of tea before they all finally traipsed to bed.

All of John's things were still in the room, right down to the curtains that had been taken from John's bedroom and the fort that Sherlock had built them. John crawled into the fort, and Sherlock came after him, and he cried softly, curled up against Sherlock's chest, until he fell asleep.

He felt as though he'd been asleep only moments before he was being shaken awake.

'What?' he mumbled groggily.

'John, dear, we're getting ready to go to St Mungo's, are you coming with us?' came Mrs Weasley's voice.

John sat up, swaying, head pounding. 'Erm - I'm sorry, I don't think I can,' he said, the effort of talking alone making him queasy.

'It's all right, you stay here and rest, I'll tell Arthur you said hello.'

John nodded and lay down again, closing his eyes, relaxing as Sherlock brushed the hair from his face.

'It's getting long,' Sherlock murmured.

John didn't say anything, but he could feel Sherlock's fondness and smiled.

He found himself unable to drift off to sleep, but just lying there with Sherlock's arms around him slowly drove away the fatigue and nausea, until John felt well enough to sit up for another cup of tea.

'Have you ever been to St Mungo's?' John asked Sherlock.

Sherlock laughed. 'Of course.'

'What's it like?'

Sherlock thought about it, and images of the hospital flashed through John's mind.

John squeezed his eyes shut until it stopped.

'Sorry,' said Sherlock.

'It's fine. I asked.' John shook his head. 'Maybe it's best I didn't go.'

'It's highly likely you would have been overwhelmed by it. At least while you're this tired.'

John took a deep breath. 'I'll go next time.'

'Must you?'

'I want to see Mr Weasley and I want to see the hospital for myself,' John insisted. 'I'll be fine.'

'It's not that interesting.'

'Liar,' John sniggered. 'You'll come too?'

'Of course.'

They stayed in their room where John was stable, and they felt it the moment the Weasleys and Harry returned from St Mungo's. The tense atmosphere was dissolved immediately, replaced by relief and joy as everyone crowded inside, doing their best not to wake up Mrs Black. Their buoyant moods ballooned through the house, alleviating John's illness enough so that he could finally go to sleep.

'What are you doing?' he mumbled to Sherlock as he climbed into bed.

Sherlock was scribbling on a scrap of parchment. 'I was assuming you wouldn't want to be woken up again,' he said, showing John the "Do not disturb" he had written on it.

'Good idea.'

Sherlock stuck it to the door of their room, then closed it firmly before finally climbing into the bed beside John, falling asleep just as John did.

Welcome back everyone! Thanks to Morgan Tara Befa for the review :) See you again soon!