Quidditch

The night before the first Quidditch match of the season was a noisy one, especially in the Gryffindor common room. John was sitting with Harry, Ron and Hermione by the window, doing their Charms homework (or rather, having it checked by Hermione). Fred and George were in charge, Percy having gone to bed early and none of the older students seemed to feel like doing anything to stop them. Harry was fidgeting in frustration. Snape had earlier confiscated his copy of Quidditch through the Ages and was itching to get it back. He was just getting up to go and get it back when the room fell silent. The portrait hole had opened and Sherlock had clambered in. He walked straight over to their window, oblivious to the shocked stares he was getting. Ron gaped at him.

'How did you get in here?' he demanded.

'With the password,' Sherlock said dismissively. Harry caught John's eye and supressed the urge to laugh.

'Er right, well off to get my book back,' said Harry.

'Good luck,' John snorted. Harry was half way across the room when he noticed a small figure hovering awkwardly by the portrait hole. Fred and George spotted him at the same time.

'You might as well come in, I think Sherlock's already broken any boundaries there might have been. He does like to show off, that one,' said Fred.

'Yeah. We won't tell Percy if you don't,' George grinned. Castiel smiled uncertainly and shuffled over to take Harry's seat by the window. Harry finally managed to leave the room.

'It's very nice in here,' Castiel commented, gazing around appreciatively.

'Yes, very- red,' said Sherlock.

'What are you doing in here?' Hermione asked without looking up from John's homework.

'Got bored. I would have gone for a walk but Filch remembered to take his keys with him tonight,' Sherlock grumbled. Eventually the rest of the Gryffindors got tired of gawking at Sherlock and Castiel and went back to their evening activities. A few muttered something about 'going too far' but most accepted their presence with good will.

'Have you done the Charms homework yet?' John asked. Castiel nodded.

'If I thought it would be beneficial, I would,' Sherlock said.

'It would give you something to do though, wouldn't it?'

'Yes, if I wanted my brains to leak out of my ears,' Sherlock snorted.

'But how will you learn?' Hermione asked, scandalised.

'I thought it would be quite clear by now that I don't need homework to learn,' Sherlock scoffed. All the same he couldn't help but peer over John's shoulder at the question he was puzzling over.

'The Hover Charm was invented in 1544 by Jarleth Hobart and it cannot be used on humans.'

John grinned and wrote it down; Hermione frowned disapprovingly but said nothing. Hermione had relaxed somewhat when it came to breaking the rules, having broken a great number of them fighting a troll. Harry burst into the room panting and ran over to join them.

'Did you get it?' Ron asked eagerly.

'No, but I did find Snape with a great chunk bitten out of his leg, and he said "how are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" You know what this means? He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Hallowe'en and tried to steal whatever it is it's guarding. And I'll bet you anything he let the troll in as a diversion,' he finished breathlessly.

'No- he wouldn't!' Hermione said, wide-eyed. 'Why would he try and steal something Dumbledore's trying to protect?'

'Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something. I wouldn't put it past him though,' said Ron.

'We all know Snape's a right foul git, but I dunno, I doubt he'd try to steal something right under Dumbledore's nose,' said John.

'The question isn't whether or not Snape's trying to steal something, but what there is to be stolen,' Sherlock murmured, his eyes going misty as he thought it over. Eventually, Sherlock and Castiel left for Ravenclaw Tower and everyone else went to bed, the three-headed dog weighing heavily on their minds.

The next morning, the Gryffindor table was so crowded with students getting up early for the upcoming match that Sherlock and Castiel were forced to sit with their house. Sherlock sat sulking amongst the many students fervently that such matters as a Quidditch match were beneath them, while they were all secretly backing Gryffindor. By now it was widely known that Harry was their not-so-secret weapon and Sherlock watched him refuse all the food he was offered. So far it had been much more entertaining watching John trying to stuff a sausage up Harry's nose than listening to Mycroft drone on about small skirmishes within Slytherin.

People began filtering out to the grounds and Sherlock sat patiently waiting for Castiel to finish excitedly scarfing down bacon. He glanced up vaguely as the owls flew in. As always, Castiel watched them carefully and his expression changed from excitement to fear as a large tawny owl soared towards him. The bacon on his fork fell back on the plate in front of him. For a moment everything seemed to be going in slow motion and Sherlock made to grab the letter but the owl had already flown over his head. It exploded with such a force that several Ravenclaws were knocked from their seats, including Sherlock and Mycroft, and Castiel was thrown clean from the table, landing with a resounding crash on top of the Hufflepuff table. Gabriel bolted up and held him by his elbows. He pulled his arms away from his face and there were several horrified gasps at the angry red burns all over his face before he was hurried away. Sherlock looked around wildly, clutching his sizzling arm. John had run to his side but he barely noticed. He finally found Lucy, staring, white-faced, but indifferent, only serving to incense him.

'A little more powerful than you were expecting?' he shouted at her. She looked slightly surprised, then amused. 'I will catch you!' he spat. Mycroft dusted himself down and grabbed Sherlock's upper arm, steering him out of the Great Hall.

'You really think that was clever, Sherlock?' Mycroft hissed. 'Shouting it across the Hall like that?'

'Shut up, Mycroft, it's not like they weren't all staring at us anyway,' Sherlock snapped, wrenching his arm away. 'Did you find anything out yet?'

'If you'd been paying the slightest bit of attention at all, you'd know,' Mycroft sniffed. 'The Slytherins have been-'

'I don't care about the Slytherins!' Sherlock cried exasperatedly as they climbed the stairs.

'Do you really think you'll catch her?' asked John, who had been following them.

'Of course I will,' said Sherlock.

'Well I'll help you then.'

Sherlock stared at him for a moment before continuing up the stairs. As they approached the hospital wing, Sherlock thought that Castiel must have broken some sort of record by now. He'd been in there more times than most students in the whole school, let alone first-years.

'Why can't you fix it?' Sherlock asked Mycroft.

'I-I don't know how,' he mumbled, flushing slightly. Sherlock snorted and they entered the hospital wing. A bed right at the very end had already been curtained off and muffled sobs were emanating from it. Sherlock sat on the bed opposite and Madam Pomfrey emerged looking flustered, carrying a basin of yellowish paste. She siphoned some off into a tray and handed it to John.

'Put this on his arm,' she said before disappearing back behind the curtain. John started dabbing the paste onto Sherlock's arm. It stung a little and smelled bad.

'You should go down to the game,' said Sherlock.

'Yeah, all right, I'll just leave this with Mycroft then, I'm sure he can handle it,' John chuckled, glancing at Mycroft who had turned his face away from the smell. That silenced Sherlock. Suddenly, Lee Jordan's voice drifted in distantly through the slightly open window.

'And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor-'

'Well I've missed the start anyway, so I might as well stay,' he smiled.

'Why?' Sherlock asked, looking utterly perplexed.

'Well- because you're my friend.'

'My- friend?'

'Yes, Sherlock, your friend,' John laughed.

'Why?' he asked again.

'I dunno, you're an arrogant git most of the time,' he joked, then looked up at Sherlock's expression. 'But I suppose you can be all right sometimes.'

Sherlock smiled a genuine smile as 'GRYFFINDOR SCORE!' floated through the window. Mycroft, who had been pretending not to listen, also smiled. It hadn't always been easy for his little brother but this Watson boy seemed to have latched onto him.

Madam Pomfrey once again came out from behind the curtain and examined Sherlock's arm swiftly.

'Not bad, Watson. It should be fine, Sherlock. You can go down to the game and when it's over, wash it off and the burn should be healed,' she said. 'You'll need some new robes though, I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind ordering some for you, and by the look of the legs on these I'd say you need some new ones anyway.'

'Will Castiel be ok?' John asked worriedly. A loud, collective groan could be heard coming from the stadium.

'He'll be all right I should think. There may be a little scarring, nothing too noticeable, though seeing as he got here so quickly I think we may be able to avoid it,' she smiled grimly and slipped back though the curtains. Sherlock hopped off the bed and he and John almost ran from the room, positively buzzing with excitement, followed quietly by Mycroft.

They rushed down to the Entrance Hall where they could here cheering and hissing.

'Slytherin in possession- Flint with the Quaffle…' they could hear Lee saying. John glanced over his shoulder at Mycroft who was turning away from them.

'Not coming, Mycroft?' John asked.

'Oh, no I have other matters to attend to,' he said. John shrugged and walked out with Sherlock. As they drew nearer they heard shouts and screams that sounded more fearful than excited. Sherlock frowned, something was wrong. They sprinted down to the pitch and into the stands. Making their way along to Ron and Hagrid, they watched Harry's broom rocked and bucked until it threw him off and he was holding on by his fingertips. John gaped and Ron pressed Hagrid's binoculars to his grey face. Sherlock, instead of watching Fred and George trying to pull Harry onto their brooms, squinted around at the crowd. He knew that only powerful Dark magic could interfere with a broom like Harry's, so he turned his sharp gaze onto the teachers and saw Professor Quirrell falling into the row in front of him, then a flash of blue flame that he knew Hermione to be particularly adept at producing appeared at the hem of Snape's robes. Snape leapt up when he realised he was on fire, but before he could do anything about it, the flames were already gone. John was watching Harry with a mixture of awe and terror as he realised his broom had stopped vibrating beneath his fingers and swung himself back on it. John cheered loudly while Ron told Neville he could look. It was over within a matter of seconds as Harry dove towards the ground and the crowd, including John, gasped when he clapped his hands to his mouth and out popped the Snitch. He waved it above his head and the Gryffindors screamed their approval.

Twenty minutes later all five of them were sitting in Hagrid's hut being made a cup of tea. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty and Marcus Flint took it particularly hard, howling about how Harry hadn't caught it, but nearly swallowed it. The win had been allowed, however, as no rules had been broken.

'It was Snape,' Ron explained to everyone. 'Hermione and I saw him. He was muttering something. Wouldn't take his eyes off you.'

'Rubbish,' said Hagrid. 'Why would he do a thing like that?'

'Why wouldn't he?' Sherlock retorted. 'Harry found out about him trying to get past that three-headed dog so naturally-'

Hagrid dropped his teapot.

'How do you know about Fluffy?'

'Fluffy?' Sherlock exclaimed in disgust.

'Yeah- he's mine. I bought him off this Greek bloke I met down the pub- lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-'

'Yes?'

'Now don' ask me no more questions- that's top secret that is. You all righ' John?'

John had been staring out of the window at the Forbidden Forest.

'What? Yes. Fine. Listen, whatever it is, Snape's trying to steal it.'

'Rubbish,' Hagrid repeated. 'Snape is a Hogwarts teacher.'

'A teacher that just tried to kill Harry!' Hermione cried. It appeared that Hermione's attitude towards Snape had changed dramatically after the afternoon's events. 'I know a jinx when I see one; I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact and Snape wasn't blinking!'

'I keep telling yeh yer wrong!' he said hotly. 'I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now listen to me, all of yeh- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel-'

John glanced at Sherlock who was watching Hagrid intently.

'Aha!' said Harry. 'So there's a Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?'

Hagrid looked furious with himself.

Hello everyone, I'd just like to apologise for the delay in the update. I had a massive case of writer's block coupled with mountains of college work, but I will try and update quicker in the future.

Thanks to RRW, Silverdragonstar, lunalovespudding3, PastelCake, Bookslover21, Luckyreader2000, wh0lockian, gabriels-ass and hogwartsmockingjaysilvertounge. If you guys are still here then thank you for being so patient :3