A/N: An update! Finally! Although this is way behind schedule, I think I've redeemed myself for writing 2,286 words! All for you, my dears! :) Normally I don't even reach the 1,800 mark. So since I've written this much in one chapter, would you please review? I'd really appreciate it, no matter what you say!

And of course, the obligatory remark: I own nothing but my characterizations, my storyline, and my few OCs. Cheers to that!

Every morning in Gryffindor Tower, John Hamish Watson awoke in his four-poster bed, emerging from his warm cocoon of soft sheets and red quilts, and grinned at the realization that he was at Hogwarts. He would simply lie in his bed, thinking about the excitement that that day would bring, as ripples of morning sunlight poured into the room through the heavily draped single window beside John's bed. Every day the same ritual began ─ one by one, not soon after, the other inhabitants of John's first year dormitory would be roused, stretching their arms and yawning loudly, before their daily frenzy to get dressed and head to the Great Hall for breakfast. John sat with his new friends and roommates: Kenneth Finnigan, Hugo Weasley, and, of course, Albus Potter. They had all been sorted into Gryffindor together a few weeks before, after John and Albus' eventful interduction on the school train. The four were also fortunate enough to be in most the same classes. Spending the days with friends like these, John reasoned, nothing could possibly spoil the fun, despite the endless homework doled out daily by his professors.

Speaking of homework - John was accustomed to finishing the previous day's homework at breakfast each day, as he did this one particular day. Events such as Exploding Snap Tournaments and the like were constant distractions in Gryffindor Tower that John couldn't help but pay attention to, even participate in (as he sometimes did ─ Albus had discovered John's talent in the game while in a fit of boredom during their long ride to Hogwarts). But it wasn't even that John always let his attention wander ─ he was constantly plagued by Lucy Weasley, Hugo's irritating cousin, who made it her business to bother John about finishing his schoolwork whenever he was caught not being studious. It was exponentially fortunate, he thought, that Lucy had been born female; otherwise she would be a nuisance in their dormitory as well as their common room.

So John sat down at the table, scrambling to imitate completion of the foot-long Transfiguration scroll that was due in only an hour, while digging in to a piece of buttered toast and jam. Albus passed him a mug of pumpkin juice, and John responded with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, mate."

"Sure. Hey, what's that you're writing?" Albus asked, inspecting the parchment. "Something for McGonagall? Just hand it in as is, she'll never notice it's too short, with her old eyes and all."

"Maybe you're all right with an A, but I intend to get E's at least in all my classes this year," said John, teasing his friend. He hadn't actually been the smart one back at home, Sherlock had been ─ but no one at school knew that.

"Oh come on, John, you're Muggle-born! Your parents would hardly know if an A was better or worse than an O! I'm the one at a disadvantage. Mum and Dad know all about the grades, and they'll go nuts at me if I don't do well this year."

Kenneth snickered. "Well, your dad was hardly a model student, Albus," he retorted.

"Did I hear 'model student'?" cried Lucy. "Was Professor Longbottom talking about me?"

Practically the entire Gryffindor table rolled its eyes in response to her query. Suddenly, a cloud of owls appeared in the rafters of the Great Hall, swooping over the tables to deliver the students' letters, table by table. John personally loved the owls, although he rarely ─ never ─ got letters from his family back home. It was just the rush of excitement, the flurry of opening letters and parcels. Often a package would be sent to the Gryffindor table, and all those present would be able to share in the goodies. So even the disappointment of not receiving mail was made up for by the fun of the occasion.

"Nothing?" asked Albus, anticipating the answer. "It's all right. My dad says that he never got a single thing from back home when he went to Hogwarts, except for an old sock at Christmas!"

"Ew," answered John. "Lucky me, then," he said, smiling at the thought. His comment had begun sarcastically, but ended earnestly. Did that kind of thing actually happen? It wasn't so bad, then, to get nothing...

John and his friends finished eating, and then returned with the others to the Gryffindor dormitory for a minute to clean up before heading to their first class of the morning. Checking his schedule, John determined that it was Double Potions with the Slytherins.

"Great," he announced to the group. "Time to be forced to interact with Scorpius Malfoy."

"Aw..." they answered together. It was a running joke that everyone hated the Slytherins ─ even after the historic Battle of Hogwarts had been fought, and everyone had learned that the house a person is placed in doesn't really matter. At times John felt bad about the joke, since it was at someone's expense, but it was pretty funny. Scorpius, son of the infamous Draco Malfoy, was a rather mean boy who was irritatingly stuck up about his family's lineage. Most people no longer cared about such things, but some held their beliefs long after the others' had faded.

When they arrived at the potions dungeon, Professor Yvaine was waiting for them at the door.

"I don't think I have to tell you that you're late," she grumbled at them as they entered the room carrying their book bags. John turned to Albus, asking as silent question with his raised eyebrows. Weren't they on time?

Albus shrugged, apparently just as lost as John. It was a 'your guess is as good as mine' kind of look. 'Don't look at me!' it seemed to say. But the pair shouldn't have been surprised. Professor Yvaine had never quite taken a liking to them.

"Aw, just get in here. As I was saying..."

The classroom, relieved that the conflict had ended, lapsed into a room of dazed stupor, as the professor discussed with herself the potion ingredients found in South America. John received some sympathetic looks in response his chastising, which quickly stopped as the lecture began to resemble one of Professor Binn's infamous ones. As if finally noticing that the class was bored, Yvaine asked Hugo a question out of the blue.

"Mr. Weasley... what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Obviously, Hugo had absolutely no idea. He wasn't a fan of potions... or reading in general. Hugo was always talking about how he wanted to be a beater on the wasps one day ─ and John was pretty sure he had already lost the required number of brain cells for the job by playing Quidditch as a kid. He stifled a chuckle.

"Mr. Weasley?" she repeated.

"I don't know, Ma'am," Hugo answered quickly.

"Had you had even a speck of knowledge in that puny mind of yours, you would have known that asphodel and wormwood form a potion so deadly, so complex, it is known as the Draught of Living Death. Perhaps I'll feed some to your owl, and then perhaps you'll learn."

Hugo blanched.

"Mercutio," he mumbled softly, thinking of his poor owl. Fortunately, the professor, whose point had been made, diverted her attentions elsewhere. John's eyebrows crinkled in indignation on Hugo's behalf. What right did she have to bully them? Albus, who could sense John getting angry, laid a hand on his friend's forearm.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's not worth it, she'll just take points."

"Fine. But this isn't over!" he muttered. However, it soon was. Once John had cooled down, he could see clearly that he was acting like his old self. A rash, excitable kid who was so used to protecting his brother at home, that everything said was a personal attack against him. Knowing that his was the truth, John tried to let it go and just be happy ─ although this was never possible in Double Potions.

Well, the first years survived the otherwise-uneventful lesson; the only casualties being a lone kamikaze fly that plummeted into Professor Yvaine's cauldron, ruining her Sleeping Draught. John, Albus, and Kenneth headed back to the dormitory, while Hugo unhappily went to Muggle Studies. His mother had persuaded Headmistress (and Transfiguration Professor) McGonagall to allow her son to take the class a few years early, remembering her husband's shocking lack of Muggle knowledge as a child. Hugo was against it, but was given no choice in the matter.

So the trio entered the Gryffindor Common Room and were immediately greeted by Lucy.

"Hi! How was Potions?" she asked curiously. Apparently she had memorized his schedule. Oo-kay, thought John. That's weird. But as he stared past Lucy, eyes unfocused, he relived his first class of the day, remembering the incident with Hugo. "Ooh, John, are you all right? You don't look all right. It's Professor Yvaine, isn't it..."

The others talked to Lucy about what had happened, with more exaggerations now that Hugo was out of the room, and soon gathered a small crowd. They all chattered and laughed like monkeys, and John remained at the sidelines, not really listening, but hearing a distorted sound like they were speaking a different language. He returned to his own truthful recollection of the morning thus far. The professor had talked about something called 'asfodel' and 'worm-wood', so he didn't blame Hugo for being stumped. In fact, the scene pictured in his mind sounded like Sherlock would do ─ the asking of impossible questions just to show off one's own smarts. It was all right when he did it to John, but not a teacher to a kid!

Sherlock, he said to himself. John hadn't thought of that name clearly in many days, so it brought a wave of fresh homesickness to him. He missed his brother very much. it was all right to laugh about not having to listen to a mum or dad anymore; it was great having no one to tell them when to go to bed at night, for example. But one thing many of them had in common was missing siblings back at home, for they were their real lifelines. Hugo, for instance, never talked about his sister Rose, but it was obvious he missed her. They all did. Only, it was worse for John, because his sibling would never join them at Hogwarts, unlike those who had younger brothers or sisters.

Albus, who seemed to have finished telling his story, walked over to the armchair which John stood beside.

"Hi," he said. "What's up?"

John didn't answer, busy as he was wrapped up in his thoughts.

"Want some chocolate? I got it in the mail this morning, said Albus. Albus was smarter this time, using a strategy he was confident would work.

"What?!" exclaimed John, emerging instantly from himself. "Oh," he laughed. "You little─ I thought you actually had some!"

"Hey, it worked," replied Albus, shrugging. "Do you?─ oh, right, you didn't get anything this time." He tried to cover up his query, and then his mention of what was obviously a sensitive subject for John, but John had heard enough. He didn't mind.

"Nah, but it's fine."

In spite of the awkward silence that followed, the common room was still bursting with noise. The Fat Lady was covering her ears while trying to hold a conversation with her friend Violet. John took a deep breath, then spoke again.

"Hey, Albus?"

"Yeah? What's the matter?"

"Do─ d'you ever get letters from home? Because my br─ my parents said that they would send some, but I haven't gotten any." John rushed his words and then crossed his arms to counteract the 'weakness' he was afraid his words had conveyed.

"Sometimes. But, y'know, my parents, they're pureblood. Not that I care about that, but they have an owl. Since, well, your parents are Muggles, maybe they couldn't send you a letter because they don't have an owl? The letters might have gotten thrown out because no Muggles know where Hogwarts is," said Albus hopefully.

"Yeah. yeah, I bet you're right," answered John, feeling a bit better. Yet a nagging feeling remained, wiggling its way into his stomach and leaving a heavy weight there. "But I think I'm going to send one to them─ to make sure they haven't forgotten me," he managed, making it sound preposterous, like a joke, even though being forgotten was an actual worry of his.

"Okay, mate. See you later!"

"See you, Albus!"

Later that day, John emerged from his dormitory, tired from that day's classes, and walked to the owlery in hopes that he could make it before curfew hit. Upon his arrival, he selected a fine long eared owl from the lower rows of cages, attached his completed letter to its ankle, and sent it on its way out the window with a 'screech!'.

Hagrid, a big man who Albus had said was his father's friend, called to John while tending to an owl's injured claw. They had met only twice before, on the first day of school on the boats across the lake, and again at Hagrid's cabin when Albus had insisted they visit.

"'Ello there! All right, John? That letter 'o yours sent just now?"

"Yep, Professor Hagrid," John answered, in the shadow of the Care of Magical Creatures teacher. "If all goes well, it'll be there in a matter of days."

A/N: Hope you liked it! Remember to review! :)