Okay, so Finally getting to the meat of Book II. I'd like to just take a moment to thank all of the people who've followed this story since day one XD I'd also like to beg for reviews, because they make me very happy.
JhungYuki: Siempre es bueno para bien un lector que es nuevo en fanfiction. ¡Me alegra que te guste mi historia, y espero que sigas haciéndolo! XD
Murder Junkie: I'm glad you think so! It took forever to get the right balance of charming and creepily interested for Tom's voice, but I'm relieved you think it turned out alright!
Jayley: I'm thinking it's more bad parenting than anything, though Ginny in my U is still kinda spoiled if you ask me XD
yachiru-chan92: I wouldn't say that she's stupid per se, just young. Remember, Ginny's 11, and she feels a tad entitled because she has rich friends who get whatever they want, while she grew up with anything extra going to Ron and his medical bills. She's just a bitter little girl.
Kai19: Your review made me laugh and gave me a lot to think about, so thank you very much :)
CaseLC: that's actually almost exactly along the lines of what I was thinking!
nero1493: I dedicate this chapter to you (^_-)
Anyway, thank you all for your lovely reviews. You guys make me very happy! Hope you like this chapter, and may the gods be ever in your favor!
~James
Tom sighed mentally as ink appeared in front of him, scribbled out in the messy scrawl of the barely eleven-year-old girl who had found his horcrux in Flourish and Blotts of all places. True, most of their conversations had at least some points that were interesting, but mostly Miss Weasley used his diary to complain about her brothers and how unfair it was that they were so much better at everything than her.
Of course, there was also the rather alarming about of information she was able to provide Tom about one Harry Potter. Tom was rather intrigued by him, and had begun to create a sort of character sketch in the emptiness around him. From what he'd learned, Harry Potter was rather like himself: raised and mistreated by muggles; far superior in intellect and looks to everyone around him; magically powerful and (though Tom hated to admit it) as socially awkward as Tom was when he first came to Hogwarts (though he's quickly gotten the hang of how to act like a perfect little gentleman while Harry didn't even seem to try). He'd also learned that Harry preferred to be called "Sherlock", because his birth name was too "dull" for his tastes. However, there were some differences, such as how Sherlock (Tom preferred that name over Harry as well) only gained such a large following on accident, and couldn't care less what people thought of him. Sherlock was rich, exceedingly so, and yet he preferred to dress like a muggle noble. Sherlock was already beloved by the whole of the Hogwarts Staff as well as a good many influential pureblood families.
Sherlock had already escaped the muggles.
As much as Tom hated to admit it, Sherlock was everything that Tom had tried to be during his Hogwarts's career, and that was probably the biggest difference between them: Sherlock didn't have to try. Sherlock was careless and rude, he didn't care about his grade or his popularity, in fact the only thing he did seem to care about was Ginny's brother Ronald. Sherlock was charming because of his natural naivety, bluntness, leadership skills and curiosity. Sherlock was a natural genius that probably had something of an eidetic memory. On the other hand, Tom struggled to maintain charming composure from the moment he walked through the gates of Hogwarts. Tom had to study and exercise his magic to become as powerful as he had. Tom had to use the utmost amount of Slytherin cunning to get any connections at all, forget about friends. Tom had to learn what the people around him responded best to and mold himself to fit that. But Sherlock just expected everyone else to bend and mold themselves for him and they did. It was the most curious thing Tom had ever encountered, and he found himself wishing they had gone to Hogwarts at the same time.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he focused on what the Weasley girl was writing to him. I'm so nervous Tom! I leave for Hogwarts tomorrow. What if I don't make any friends? What if, when they see how ordinary I am, they don't want to get to know me at all! Oh, Tom this is horrible!
Tom wished he still had hands so that he could pull his hair out. Nevertheless, he projected his thoughts outward and attempted look like he was trying to calm her down, while further agitating her, so prompt her magic to react. The more emotional the girl got, Tom had learned, the more magic he was able to absorb. Ironically, because of this, an emotional schoolgirl was probably the best person who could have picked up his diary, due to their rather intense emotions. There are always muggle-borns, Ginny! They wouldn't know about your brothers yet, and anything magic is exciting to them! And besides, just think of all the exciting classes you'll have to take your mind off of things. Hogwarts will be amazing!
Only a Ravenclaw like you would think that Classes are good as distractions, Tom!
Oh, yeah. He had told her he was a Ravenclaw, didn't he? Might as well play up to that. Thinking about the classes was making her even more anxious than she already was. But they are! I remember my first day of Transfiguration, they had us all demonstrate our understanding of what was in the text books and turn a book into a hamster. Oh, and Potions was the absolute best! We brewed a water purifying potion! Oh, and one mustn't forget herbology, I'll never forget those poisonous snapdragons they had us tickle into submission. You had to get them in just the right spot or they'd give you a rather painful bite…funny thing is I can't seem to remember just where that spot was…
What? Oh, I didn't know first year was going to be that hard! I haven't even started on my books!
Why ever not? They're so fascinating.
I wonder if I could get Harry to help me. He's so smart, he's probably already got all of his class stuff memorized. Ugh! Professor Snape is going to be a nightmare! He adores Harry, you can just tel by looking at him and even he gave Harry a detention almost every day last year according to Ron!
Detention? Harry? Why? What did he do to deserve that?
I'm not sure. Something about blowing up cauldrons on purpose.
Well so long as you don't do that. Just remember to know exactly when to turn off your heat. And never add too much water! Or was it, never add too much salt…? Oh! And stirring the proper direction is of PARAMOUNT importance!
Oh, there's so much to learn. What do I do Tom? Pity I can't take you with me, I don't want to risk getting potion ingredients all over you.
Yes, that would be bad.
They continued like that, much to Tom's growing boredom, for several hours with Tom giving Ginerva every bit of "advice" about school short of actually putting down the diary and studying. After all, all of her angst was pouring off and into the diary, making Tom feel better, almost by the minute. Eventually though, Ginny stopped writing back rather abruptly, startling Tom out of the stupor he had slipped into. Tom assumed that someone had walked in on her, or she'd been called down for a meal. Though just a minute later, her now familiar handwriting returned briefly.
Harry's here again! Oh! I think I might ask him about helping me. Maybe. But he never even notices me, Tom! Not when precious, perfect "John" is in the room. Oh, I wish you could see him, Tom. He's so gorgeous. Absolutely perfect. He's gotten a bit taller over the summer, even though we're still about the same height. At least I'm not taller than him anymore.
Boy's tend to get their growth-spurts later. Anyway, just ask him! The worst he can say is no, and I don't think he will. He sounds like a nice person, from what you've told me. What's he here for, dinner?
Probably, but he came just because he was bored, he said. Apparently, Snape left him alone for the day, the mean old git. I guess he just got lonely.
Poor thing! You'd best try your hardest to cheer him up!
****1047******
Sherlock felt uncomfortably vulnerable when Severus merely patted him on the head, then apparated away with a brief "don't cause trouble" when dropping him off at the station. Sherlock didn't know why he was surprised. It would be out of character for his guardian to stick around and wave at him through the windows of the bright red train. There was also that little detail that nobody was supposed to know that Sherlock had been staying at his Professor's home that summer. The fact that Sherlock had expected otherwise, and been wrong, was almost as disconcerting as the fact that the Potion Master had, essentially, left him to his own devices in the crowded space of Platform 9 ¾.
Sherlock couldn't help but feel annoyed that Severus had dropped him off in the middle of what was obviously the rush time, only ten minutes before it was time for the train to pull out. It was horrifically noisy, and, being as short as he was in his new body, Sherlock couldn't see anything but trunks and legs. Owl feathers and dropping littered the floor and stuck to the bottom of people's robes. The overwhelming smell of people, cats, toads and other various pets assaulted his nostrils. Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, standing very still. If it was a muggle crowd, he wouldn't be as effected, he thought to himself.
Because muggles, he knew, didn't give of waves of energy that made him want to retreat into his mind and never come out.
It was a very emotional crowd. Mothers of first time students were the worst of the lot with nauseating waved of sadness, pride, happiness, guilt and fear pouring off of them heavily. Fathers were not much better, those mostly more muted. Annoyance from the children, anger from the impatient people pushing past. Eager happiness from younger students. Sherlock struggled to take in a deep breath, his face a mask of indifference as he frantically scanned the crowd for his John, or his brother. Gripping his wand tightly he began to take confident strides towards the train, his eyes fixed on the open door.
A hand clamping on his shoulder make him jump like a frightened rabbit. "Sherlock!" He spun around to come face to face with Greg, who was still sporting her muggle clothing, though she had thrown a black Hogwarts robe on over her white button up and jeans. Gremione laughed and drew him in, in a firm hug which Sherlock hesitantly gave into. She was still far taller than him, even more so than Mycroft and John. Her hair had grown out a tad since he last saw her, the longer bit in the front now flopping over and obscuring her eyes. "Prat" she said fondly. "You've barely written at all."
"Boring" Sherlock said, more out of habit than anything. "Besides, I know John's been writing frequently, no doubt filling each letter with updates on my diet and hygiene." Gremione ruffled his hair.
"It's because we care, shortstuff" she said, not even bothering to deny it. There was no point with Sherlock. She took hold of his arm and shouted out farewells to her parents over her shoulder. Then she drug the both of them through the thick, but thinning, crowd of people, elbowing and shoving rudely. Sherlock stumbled along behind her, in the space she had cleared for them. "C'mon" she said needlessly "I saw John and his lot this way." Sherlock sped up a bit of his own accord at this, helping his…friend…push through, the both of them laughingly ignoring the indignant and angry protests they left in their wake.
Sherlock found it funny that the first thing John said to him, when they came close enough to hear each other was "Where's Hedwig?"
"I sent her along already," he said flippantly, reaching for John's hand. "She doesn't like the train." Molly tried to give Sherlock a hug just then, but Sherlock jumped out of the way and hurried onto the train, pausing in the entrance just long enough to shout "Hurry up, John!" before disappearing inside. Most every compartment was already full of noisy children or young adults, but eventually, Sherlock found a space with just one small girl, about Ginny's age but more petite, reading a magazine upside down.
Sherlock paused and looked at her through the door. She wore real, actual turnips hung from her ears. A "necklace" of cork was strung about her neck and nothing else she wore matched any better. Not even her shoes, which were two different patterns of cloth muggle sneakers. He opened the door and strode in, taking his shrunken trunk out of his pocket and threw it into the overhead, unshrinking it with a thought before plunking down in front of Luna.
"Good morning, Sherlock" she said dreamily. "I'm glad you came. No one else would sit with me. I think the Urawles that flutter about me are scaring all the people off. It's a good thing they're afraid of Iowles, and you've got a bunch of them lounging all about you."
"Are they harmful?" Sherlock asked curiously as John and Greg appeared behind the door sliding open. Luna shook her head with a smile.
"Not necessarily," she said slowly. "More ominous. They're rather protective, you see, of people under attack." Sherlock saw John stiffen out of the corner of his eye. "But you don't need to worry," Luna said aggressively. "We'll protect you. John, Gremione and the Iowles!" Sherlock smiled at her.
"I wasn't worried," Sherlock said almost fondly as John sat down beside him, putting an arm around Sherlock's shoulders. He'd just settled back, to prepare for the long ride, when the doors opened again and three more people stepped inside. Blaise, Mycroft and Colin bounced in. Well, Colin was bouncing. The other two strode in regally like the pureblood ponces they were.
"Brother, mine," Mycroft greeted sitting down next to Greg, who was seated by Luna. Colin plopped so that he was sandwiched between John and Sherlock, neither of whom seemed to mind much. Blaise just looked at them.
"Did the both of you start up threesomes and not tell me?" he asked dryly, and was awarded with four scandalized and disgusted looks and one humorous one (Luna was still obliviously reading the Quibbler).
"We're twelve" Greg said, blushing furiously.
Blaise shrugged, sitting down next to Mycroft. "That's how old my mum was when she got engaged the first time." Greg looked horrified, but Sherlock seemed to remember something.
"Mycroft?" he asked, immediately receiving his brother's full attention. "Has your father…?" Mycroft shook his head, now smiling just a bit.
"Not yet," he said. "But he informed me just yesterday that he'd be meeting with Dumbledore sometime this week." Sherlock smiled a bit, absently patting Colin on the head. They distracted themselves with idle chatter, mostly about Luna's father's paper, which had featured a theory about how Dumbledore was actually an unregistered goat animagus, until the candy trolley came around and they bought about half of the witch's entire stock.
"I can't wait until Defense class," Greg said suddenly. Mycroft, Sherlock and Colin all spat out the Bertie Botts they'd been sampling. Colin just because he's accidentally eaten a raw turtle flavored one.
"Why?" John asked, appalled. "He's horrible!"
Greg frowned. "You shouldn't say that about a teacher, John." The two Holmes brothers looked flabbergasted. "And, besides, haven't you read his books? All those things he's done!"
"Fake," Mycroft said firmly. "He's a fraud."
"I don't believe you," Greg said, narrowing her eyes at him. "You can't know everything about this world, you're just a kid." To all but two of the room's occupants, her words carried a double meaning.
"But some of the things he claimed are just impossible!" Mycroft said, eyes shining and cheeks flushing slightly with his fury at being called ignorant. "There is no spell to cure a werewolf! If there was than they wouldn't be an issue! We'd just give them all Wolfsbane then hit them with the charm! And besides, the spell he cited is the ANIMAGUS revealing curse. Werewolves aren't animagi!"
"And who are you to say Mycroft doesn't know everything?" Sherlock asked, looking affronted at the very idea on behalf of his older brother. Blaise just looked amused at the two of them, like he knew something they didn't, and that just served to make Draco even more irritable.
Greg just huffed and rolled her eyes, summoning Magical Me from her trunk and sticking her nose in it. John pinched his mouth but said nothing. Colin appeared slightly confused, but he simply settled back and rested his head against the headrest, looking like he was preparing to take a nap.
"I saw him in Diagon the other day," Luna said. "The Wrackspurt's don't like him."
****1047****
Ginny sat alone in a train cabin, feeling oddly cold and still as the sunlight splashed through the slightly dusty window next to her. The rumbling of the train as it clattered along drove her headache, which she'd been nursing all morning, deeper into her skull. She exhaled, shivering for no good reason, and rubbed at the gooseflesh that had popped up along the skin of her forearms. Drawing her legs up, she pulled Tom out of her robe pouch.
Pulling a self-inking quill from inside her long sock, she put the nub to the paper, but didn't write anything. She didn't really have anything else to say to Tom, not after spending hours just the morning scribbling out anything that had been in her head at the time. The faint impression of a thought briefly slide over the top of her brain: why did writing to Tom affect her like this. But it was so fleet in passing that she barely acknowledged the thought at all and soon she was inking out questions to her new friend as easily as ever.
Will you tell me about your first train ride to Hogwart's, Tom? The response was immediate.
Why? Not that I mind, but why aren't you speaking to the other children to pass the time? The first train there was where I made all of my lifelong friends.
Ginny bit her bottom lip. No body sat with me, Tom. Even my brothers ran off in three different directions the moment we came to the platform. I couldn't find them anywhere. I couldn't even find my friend Luna, and I'd mentioned riding to Hogwarts with her just a few weeks ago.
What about Harry? I'm sure he'd let you sit with him and your brother.
I couldn't find them either. Oh, Tom! It's so frustrating! Maybe I should go and try to find people for myself. Pretend I couldn't find an empty space, or something.
It's as good a strategy as anything.
Thanks, Tom. I don't know what I'd do without you.
I assure you, Ginny, the feeling is mutual.
***0147***
Sherlock woke, feeling comfortable and warm. Somewhere inside his brain, he felt annoyed that his young body slept so much. However, in his first life he remembered that as a young man he'd spent many a day not leaving his bed, so he supposed it was to be expected. Breathing deeply, recognizing the scent of John, Sherlock stretched his shoulders, not opening his eyes. He felt a pair of slightly dry lips press against his forehead, and his smiled. "We're almost there" John said, his arms tightening around Sherlock's middle.
Sherlock lazily opened his eyes and looked around. Blaise and Mycroft were nowhere to be seen, but Neville had replaced them, talking with Luna about the benefits of a garden full of herbs and magical defense mushrooms over vegetables and flowers. Greg was still reading Lockhart's textbooks, looking rather enthralled by them. Colin was asleep on John's otherside, leaning on the youngest male Weasley, though not to the point that Sherlock was, he noted possessively.
Sherlock sighed through his nose and arched his back, feeling the joints pop with satisfaction. John removed his arms from around him, instead taking up his hand, as was their habit, and then turning slightly to wake up Colin.
As soon as the train stopped, they stumbled together in the stream of passing students, sticking close but all ending up somewhat separated, save for John and Sherlock, who ended up together walking near the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. The dark, athletic boy was draped over George's back, nuzzling his neck, and the twin with the pointier nose looked rather pleased with the arrangement.
"You four should go on a double date," Fred said, amused having spot his youngest brother and Sherlock. "Give me a break from their horrid flirting. I swear, Gred is worse at it than Percy. And Lee likes it."
"It's adorable" Lee agreed.
"Is not!" George said, affronted, though his indignance soon faded under his boyfriend's attentions. Fred rolled his eyes. Before they knew it, they had found themselves just beyond the large, ivy riddled Hogwarts Gates at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, standing before a long train of softly luminous carriages pulled by beautifully macabre steeds. Sherlock gasped and pulled out of John's reach to race towards the magnificent equestrians.
"Sherlock?" called Gremione, confused. "What are you doing? We're getting into this one!" But Sherlock didn't seem to hear her, too spellbound by the strange winged creature as he ran his hands along the leathery flank. "Sherlock?" Gremione asked again, more concerned this time. Even John seemed worried now.
"Sherlock," John said coming closer. "Do you see something?" Sherlock frowned now, turning to look at John and studying him. John's eyes seemed to slide right through the animal, much like when one peers through glass. Sherlock frowned deeper, why did John not see it. Without a word, Sherlock picked up John's hand, gently, and placed it on the horse's side. John gasped and cautiously placed his other hand on the thing as well, slowly moving his fingers over it. The creature whinnied lowly, pleased at the attention.
"They're called Thestrals" Luna piped up, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. "Only those who had seen death can see them." She paused and looked suddenly more focused. "Those who have seen death in their life, anyway." Sherlock nodded in understanding. Though John Hamish Watson had been through war, and therefore seen death, Johnald Bilius Weasley had not. Sherlock himself had witnessed not only his own parent's murder, but Professor Quirrell's as well. And Luna had seen her mother die.
Sherlock frowned again. "But John, you saw what happened to Quirrell" John seemed sheepish, rubbing the back of his head.
"Not really," he confessed. "I was tied up, remember. When he attacked you I tried to get up and ended up falling on my face. I didn't know what happened until later." Sherlock nodded, taking John's hand once more.
"They look like Zombie Pegasus'" Sherlock said helpfully, in case John felt left out that he couldn't see such an extraordinary sight. Much to his displeasure though, John tensed and began dragging Sherlock towards the safety of the carriage, much to the young genius' displeasure as Luna skipped lightly along beside them.
Sherlock didn't pay much attention to the opening speech, nor the sorting. Not until Luna was sorted into Ravenclaw (though he'd already deduced as much), and he fell back into his own thoughts, relaxed by the familiar chatter of his John and their dormmates. That is, until Ginny went up onto the stand and John rough jerked his hand to get him to focus.
*****1047*****
Ginny felt her limbs start to quiver with nerves and excitement when "Weasley, Ginerva" called out. She felt a little better knowing that hardly anybody was paying attention to her, she could hear the happy, slightly bored chattering of the other students as she stepped up to where Professor McGonagall was standing by a tool, holding the name scroll in one hand and the heavy-looking hat in the other.
Ginny seated herself up on the stool and let the hat be placed over her eyes.
Well, said the hat. Yet another Weasley. And just as interesting as all the rest. Such a little conundrum you are. You could be loyal, fiercely loyal. But you are not. You could be smart, well-read, but you do not apply yourself. You might have been brave, but you have never wanted to be. Tell me little Weasley, what do you most want?
I want to stand out from my siblings, she thought fiercely, dimly aware that her brothers were probably placing bets on how long it would take for her to be sorted. By far, it was George who'd had the longest sorting, lasting a total of three minutes on the stand, to the point where Fred was worried he and his brother would be but into separate houses. I want to be acknowledged for my talents and not as their little sister. I want to be so powerful and beautiful that no body dare compare me to my brothers.
The hat laughed. A Tall order if I may say so, Ginerva. Remember, I've sat on the heads of each of your brothers and every Weasley before them. Warding for Goblins, Taming Dragons, Smart and driven, inventive and humorous, loving and loyal. Tell me, little Weasley, what have you that can top any of those.
Everything, she thought back fiercely. I can do anything they can, and do it better! I'll prove it! I'll show them!
The hat seemed to sigh. I know just where to put you, such an ambitious child. May your goals be reached. "Slytherin!"