Chapter 8

Hope to hear from you very soon! I miss you friend.

-Evalane L. Potter

Sherlock struggled to read through Evalane's letter. Not because of the constant and blinding noise from the school's corridor, but mostly since he was surprised at how much she knew even when she wasn't here with him. Everything her letter said could easily be applied to his current situation.

Like Evalane inferred, Mycroft had spent the last remaining days of summer pestering Sherlock about the new secondary school. He would go on and on about how bored Sherlock would be in lessons, saying they were as intellectually stimulating as a doorknob. Naturally, Sherlock did not doubt this, but he was more worried about his classmates. Having Evalane around made school easier because at least she understood him and could have a decent conversation with him. In the past, many of their classmates would not appreciate Sherlock's intelligence and lack of social skills, but it was Evalane who gave him a chance at real friendship. Now he was standing in the halls of a prison-esque building that reeked of insecurity and acne. Disgusting.

Nonetheless, he was alone in this prison, and as much as he hated the idea, Sherlock knew Evalane would have no problem making friends at her new school. She would want him to at least try to talk to new people until she came back. A deafening bell screamed throughout the entire school, sending swarms of students to their classrooms. Looking at his timetable as a constant reference, Sherlock managed to maneuver his way into his assigned homeroom. Twenty pairs of eyes immediately landed on Sherlock, but he was too busy looking for an empty seat to notice the whispers spreading across the room.

There were only three available desks left, and his options were not the best. The seat in the middle of the back row was surrounded by three intoxicated looking students, all wearing baggy shorts and ripped and stained plaid shirts. Each had a vacant look in their eyes, suggesting that they were using drugs to blindfold themselves from their dreadful home lives. Another empty desk sat by the window, which would be ideal for Sherlock to distract himself from the mindless chatter of his classmates. On the other hand, the desk was in between an obvious jock and some girl he was trying to impress. A definite no.

The only desk left was in the front row. This particular seat was directly in front of the teacher's desk and sitting at this desk was a woman in her mid-fifties scribbling in a notebook with a black pen. She had pulled her greying hair back so tightly that Sherlock suspected she believed it would tighten her wrinkling skin, and her spectacles were slowly sliding down the oily bridge of her nose. The bottom of her skirt had traces of short white hairs: a cat. Maybe more than one judging by how much hair there was.

The teacher glanced up from her notebook, making direct eye contact with Sherlock. "Have a seat. We will get started in a moment." Her voice had a much higher pitch than Sherlock expected. Interesting. He made his way to the desk in the front row and made a lame attempt to settle himself by adjusting his necktie so many times that it nearly came undone completely.

The second bell made Sherlock flinch in his seat, but the teacher barely glanced up from her notebook. After a moment of more awkward silence, she rose from her chair and made her way to the blackboard. Yes, definitely more than one cat.

"Good morning. My name is Ms. Micklebery, and I will be your homeroom teacher over the course of your remaining years at Rinehall Academy. Twice a month on the first day of the week, you will report here before your classes to receive updates. I understand a few of you have transferred from the secondary school that was shut down last spring. I can assure you that you will find Rinehall Academy to exceed your highest expectations."

Doubtful, Sherlock thought to himself. So far, Rinehall Academy has been as prestigious as an American McDonald's at three in the morning, with its paint chipping and peeling off the walls and the faint stench of warm sewage lingering in the halls. Nothing about this place could possibly impress Sherlock. Without warning, the classroom door swung open. Standing in the doorway was a boy struggling to hold all his textbooks.

"Sorry ma'am! I...um...I got lost in the corridors. Won't happen again, I swear it." This boy tried to sound sincere, but he held his eye contact with the teacher for a little too long, suggesting that not only the boy was not in fact sorry but also knew this teacher well enough to have the ability to jest with her.

Ms. Micklebery rolled her eyes, completely unamused. "Have a seat, Mr. Carn. Try not to make tardiness a habit this term, understand?"

With nothing more than a chuckle and a salute, the boy made his way over to an empty desk. This particular desk was the one directly next to Sherlock, giving him the opportunity to quickly make a few deductions about him. The boy seemed to have come from a middle-class family, judging by how his jacket, tie, and black dress slacks were crisp and seemingly new; however, his dress shoes were at least two years old. Most middle-class families are willing to spend the money on superficial and material objects when they are in the direct line of sight. Certain aspects of appearance like a person's shoes tend to be placed on the back burner. The boy's strawberry blond hair was styled with gel and pulled back away from his freckled face.

The boy turned to Sherlock and smiled warmly, like the sun shining on a field for the first time after a harsh winter. He extended his hand to Sherlock. "Pleasure to meet you! Name's Randolph Nicholas Carn, Randy for short, naturally. Saying that whole lot gets bloody annoying if you ask me." Sherlock nervously accepted the boy's hand, and he was surprised by the gentle coolness of his palm. "See mate, this is the part where you tell me who you are, yeah?"

"Oh…right…" Sherlock was baffled at his own inability to form a coherent sentence. "I'm Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes."

Much to his relief, the bell's piercing cry rang through the halls before Sherlock could embarrass himself anymore. The students rose from their desks automatically and made their way out the door like pieces of machinery in an assembly line. Randy gave Ms. Micklebery a flamboyant wink, which caused her to immediately roll her eyes, and he rose from his chair.

"So," Randy was still talking to him? Strange since, up until this moment, Sherlock believed himself to generally be a repellent for his peers. "Where you headed, Sherlock?"

"Um," Fumbling over himself, Sherlock pulled his timetable from his pocket. Get it together, he thought to himself viciously. "I believe…yes…I have biology with Mr. Hancock."

"Hey, I'm heading in that direction as well! I'll show you where to go."

"Thanks." The two of them made their way through the hall in an awkward silence, but Randy was quick to break it by asking Sherlock questions.

"What do you think of Rinehall so far? I know Micklebery makes it seem about as thrilling as a funeral, but it's not that bad, I promise." Randy chuckled at his own joke, revealing perfectly white teeth.

"Honestly, I have not been overly impressed with this place." Sherlock noticed Randy raise an eyebrow at this, but his hazel eyes were twinkling like stars with amusement at his remark. "The people here seem a little…below average at best."

Taken aback by this, Randy nearly stopped in his tracks. "Whoa mate! These are my people you're talking about! They're your people too now, by the way! What makes them so "below average," as you say?"

Remembering what Evalane wrote in her letter, Sherlock grinned and decided to take this as an opportunity to show his classmate exactly what he was capable of. "You see that girl over there?" Sherlock nodded to a girl pulling books from her locker.

"Missy Peters? What about her?"

Oh no, he's friends with her. He must be. Sherlock could not believe he was so close to making a friend, and now he was about to completely ruin it. "Well, without knowing anything about her personally, I can tell that she comes from a wealthy family and has a strained relationship with her parents, most likely her father."

"What makes you say that?"

"At first glance, it's rather obvious the girl has money: the brand-new blouse and skirt, shoes in mint condition, as well as what appears to be a designer bag. Now, how do we know her family is wealthy rather than the chances of her having a job and buying these nice things for herself? Simple. Look at the way she is handling her bag. See how she's nonchalantly tossing it over her shoulder, and how she used her seemingly new shoes to kick her locker shut? More likely than not, if she had purchased these things with her own money, she would be treating her things with a bit more care. As for her parents, the wrinkles on her skirt and blouse say she is constantly rolling up her skirt, which may seem like she is trying to draw in the attention of her male peers to herself. Judging by the way she is eyeballing that older and attractive male teacher, her relationship with her father is… nonexistent… at best."

Randy threw his head back, and grabbing his stomach, let out a wholesome and genuine laugh. People around the two boys could not help but smile along with Randy, and it didn't seem to matter that they had no idea what he was laughing at. They just smiled at the sound of it.

"You're one funny bastard, Sherlock!" Randy wrapped his arm around his new friend like it was always meant to be there. "Let me tell you just how right you are about Missy…"

He began to go on about this girl to Sherlock, but if Sherlock was being honest, he wasn't listening to a word coming out of Randy's mouth. Earlier this morning, Sherlock had been preparing himself to only have social communication with Evalane via letters for the entire year. Now he seemed to have made a friend on his first day at Rinehall. It was unbelievable to him, almost too good to be true. Evalane was right, everything would be alright here. While he missed his friend more than he ever could have imagined, he knew she would be over the moon to hear about Randy.

While Sherlock was meeting new people at his new school, Eva was still trying to figure out how to get to know the old ones at Hogwarts. The clocks scattered around the castle read five minutes until Eva was to supposed to meet Harry by the lake. She had arrived early, of course. The last thing she wanted was to be late and make Harry believe she did not care.

The day was pleasantly warm, and the pale blue sky was free of any clouds. The sunlight danced on the glasslike water of the lake, and the coolness of the grass embraced her entire body as her fingers intertwined through the individual blades. Wind whistled through the forest leaves in perfect harmony with the song of the birds chirping in the distance. Evalane felt completely alone here, but she was not necessarily scared or sad about it. The isolation was comforting in a way. No one could hurt her here. There was only the serenity of the crystal lake glistening in the sunshine.

"Evalane!" Harry's voice jolted her back to reality, so she rose from her spot to embrace her little brother.

"It's good to see you, Harry," she muffled softly as she held her grip on him. He returned her hug, and Evalane noted how much more relaxed he seemed compared to their meeting in the Great Hall that morning. "Have a seat!"

"How was your first day of classes?" Harry began once they had both managed to get comfortable.

"Not too bad, Professor McGonagall spoke to me after the Transfiguration lesson about my placement test coming up. She was warning me that the workload may be overwhelming, but she's excited that I am so eager to learn. She's much kinder than I was expecting."

Harry grinned at this, nodding his head rapidly. "McGonagall's great, isn't she?"

"She is! Far less confrontational than Professor Snape was this morning!"

"You had Snape today? Blimey, how did that go?" Harry's slender nose scrunched up in disgust at the man's name, but Evalane elected to ignore it.

"Well he tried to make me look foolish in front of a litter of eleven years by asking me an Advanced Potions question; however, answering the question correctly made matters worse because he thought you had coached me what questions he would ask!" Harry winced at the memory of his first day in Snape's class. The memory of being berated by the professor on the first day still felt fresh, even two years later. "Naturally he asked me a different question, and when I answered that correctly as well, I think he was actually impressed! He awarded Slytherin ten points for my "preparation for today's lesson." Though, I'm sure if I had not been there, none of the other students would have been asked such questions."

Nodding in agreement, Harry said, "Probably not."

Silence lingered between the siblings for a moment too long, so this forced Evalane to realize that getting to know her brother would not be an overnight event, unfortunately. "So," she crossed her legs underneath her and turned to Harry. "Is there anything you wanted to know about me? I know this whole "sister" concept has probably been overwhelming for you."

"Um, I hadn't really thought of anything," Harry admitted, running his fingers through his wild hair. "Well, I guess, where have you been staying all this time?"

"London. Well, more on the outskirts of London. I've been living in a small cottage with, um, a man by the name of Todd Knaggs. He's, uh, he's the one who found me. At the house…"

"Oh," Harry whispered. Eva could not tell if he exactly understood what she was implying. In fact, she did not understand that her situation was abnormal until she was older. While she had wonderful memories of her life with a loving family, a child at the age she was would have no reason to not believe that other children were not experiencing what she had been. "Do you remember them? Mum and Dad?"

The question turned back the clock, and suddenly Harry was ten years younger, just a small, scared child wanting to find answers and feel safe again. Eva's throat tightened, and salty tears began to burn in her eyes. Regardless, she smiled as best she could and wrapped her arm around her little brother. "I do."

"What were they like?"

"Kind. Mum- to this day -is the kindest and most genuine person I have ever met. And Dad?" She chuckled gently. "Dad could light up a room with his humor and charm, but he would follow Mum around like a lost puppy most of the time!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! Mum was the glue that held our home together!" Harry paused at this. He was holding something back, Eva could see it in his eyes. "Harry?"

"Has…has anyone explained to you why they died?"

Author's Note: I'm back friends! Not sure how I feel about this chapter, so please feel free to write a review and let me know what you think! xx