No one was particularly sure when it happened, but it was soon a well-known fact throughout Hogwarts that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson had inexplicably become friends. They were frequently seen walking together in the hallways and studying in the library; Sherlock actually started coming to most meals, and the two boys would rotate sitting at each other's house tables.

In fact, Sherlock would even come to some of Gryffindor's Quidditch practices. At first, the captain was completely against this, and accused Sherlock of spying for the Ravenclaws, until John and Sherlock both assured them that he thought Quidditch was an entirely pointless activity, and only came because he had nothing better to do-while his dislike of Quidditch didn't necessarily endear him to the captain, he was at least allowed to stay for the duration of the practices.

Sherlock himself wasn't quite sure how it had happened-the friendship thing, that is. He had always considered himself just fine on his own, until he realized that he felt a lot, well, better, around John, although there wasn't anything particularly wrong with him in the first place.

Anyhow, when Sherlock walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts Friday afternoon, he found John in a state of shock.

"What ever is the matter?"

"Huh? Nothing?"

"You're shaking slightly-a particularly pronounced tremor in your right hand, your pupils are dilated, and you're sitting incredibly stiffly. You're obviously anxious about something."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, we're finishing the tournament today for one thing. And besides that, you know how the first Quidditch math of the season is always in November?"

"Sure," he said, going with it.

"Well they moved it. It's next week, on Halloween."

"What did they do that for?"

"I don't know, bad weather or something."

"Well that's good, then, isn't it?" Sherlock asked, uncomprehending. He dropped his bag onto the floor and leaned against the wall next to John-the classroom had already been cleared in preparation for the final three matches.

"No, that means we have less time to practice."

"Well, if there's nothing you can do about it, there's no use worrying, now is there?"

Before the other boy could come up with a clever retort, Professor Nevamann entered in the dramatic fashion he was rather fond of, turned to face the class, and declared, "Let us begin."

Sherlock nearly rolled his eyes, but the rest of the class seemed rather excited, even though most of them were not taking part in the remaining duels. Sherlock had even seen a few people betting on who would win, with anything from galleons to chocolate frog cards.

"Now, since we only have three matches left, I figured we'd do one at a time. Let's see then…how about Mr. John Watson, and Miss Sarah Sawyer?"

Sherlock recognized the girl as one of the members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team…a chaser, John had called her. She seemed pretty good, from what Sherlock could tell. He figured she'd be fair competition against John, what with the fast reflexes she must have. Also, she must admittedly be a fairly good witch considering she had made it this far. Searching back in his memory from the past duels, he remembered that her specialty was the Stunning spell. He quickly whispered this to John. "Just try to disarm her first, and have a good shield spell at the ready," he advised.

"Right," said John, looking a bit shaky. "What's the incantation for a shield spell again?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"Come on, now Mr. Watson. We'd like to eventually finish this tournament, you know."

"Protego," Sherlock silently mouthed to John, as the class chuckled. However, he wasn't sure that John had even seen, since he was already walking towards the center of the room.

John, who never seemed completely confident in himself when dueling, looked even shakier than usual this time-Sherlock figured that the entire class watching had something to do with it.

The two seemed to be on astonishingly even footing-they both cast hexes and jinxes and each other, and both kept blocking with equal swiftness-it seemed John had seen him after all, or the spell had simply popped back into his head in his hour of need.

Sherlock kept itching to point out all of Sarah's openings to John, but was forced to restrain himself. He, personally, could have finished the duel in a few moments' time. John's defenses were so solid though, that it seemed only a matter of time until one of his spell's went under the girl's overly outstretched arm. With complete confidence in his friend, Sherlock lazily ran a hand through his dark curls. He almost gasped in surprise when a Tongue-Tying Jinx skimmed the side of John's face, hitting him just enough to take effect.

He honestly had very little hope for the boy now. If he were in John's place, it would not be a hindrance, because he, of course, did not need to speak in order to cast spells. And while Sherlock had been helping John practice the skill, he had only once or twice actually managed the feat, and the spell had been considerably weaker than when cast verbally.

"Come on, John," he muttered under his breath. He briefly considered silently shooting some form of jinx Sarah's way, but it would be obvious that John did not cast it and if he was discovered both he and John would be in trouble.

Sherlock was getting a bit anxious, when, to his surprise, John burst through the Jinx and bellowed "expelliarmus!"

Sarah's wand flew high into the hair, and was quickly caught by a very shocked John.

Everyone clapped, impressed, while John returned to stand by Sherlock. "That was impressive, John. You seem to be exceptional at performing under pressure."

"How do you mean? The Jinx just wore off while I was dodging her other spells, didn't it?"

"No. There was only about 15 seconds between the time the Jinx took effect and when you disarmed her-the spell should last at least a minute, and that appeared to be a very potent one."

"You mean I broke free of it?"

"Yup."

"Very good match," said Professor Nevamann, and Sherlock against resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. You'd think he was talking to a bunch of five year olds. "Now, this means John will be one of the contestants in the final round. I believe our next match, then, is Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Mr. Jack Collins."

Sherlock knew Collins fairly well at this point-the boy was in Hufflepuff and he had known him since before the two were even at Hogwarts-their fathers both worked in the ministry, and had become fast friends. Collins was particularly bright, more than some Ravenclaws, but when it came to practical magic, he was not terribly impressive-Sherlock was surprised, therefore, that he had even made it so far.

"Well," Sherlock said in a bored tone. "Would you like to just give up now?"

"Excuse me?" The boy seemed surprised by Sherlock's nerve, despite years of being acquainted with it.

"I asked if you wanted to give up now. There's absolutely no chance of you beating me."

"I beg to differ. You're not the only one that's been practicing over the summer."

"Well then, it'll be interesting to see if you've actually improved at all."

"Boys, boys," chided Nevamann, and this time Sherlock actually did roll his eyes.

"Just don't bore me," shot Sherlock, raising his wand.

Sherlock faintly remembered when he and Collins were a few years too young for Hogwarts, and how they used to play around with their mother's wands in the backyard of whoever's house they were at-the two families often met for dinner on the weekends. They would play-duel in the evening light, and Collins was always dismal at it.

Sherlock was surprised, therefore, to find that the sandy-haired boy had, in fact, improved. He actually blocked Sherlock's first few jinxes, and tried to disarm him. Sherlock surprised himself, in fact, by going easier on the boy than he normally would have. He was never very nostalgic, but he liked this feeling of reliving his memories. However, he soon remembered the disastrous events that had arisen in years to come, and the nostalgic feeling abandoned him, replaced with hurt and betrayal.

In a flash, he parried Collins' attempted Stunning Jinx, and sent his own back at the boy with such force that after flying under the boy's outstretched arm and hitting him over the heart, it sent him flying back at least ten feet.

"Blimey, Sherlock," said John. "Where'd that come from?"

"I gave him the chance to back off," Sherlock spat coldly.

"Er, well…" muttered Nevamann, unsure of what to do. "That was a bit of unnecessary force there, Mr. Holmes." There was a kind of funny look in his eye as he said it, that Sherlock could not quite place.

"Oh, whatever." Sherlock shrugged, unconcerned. "He should have learned not to flourish his wand too much."

"Mr. Holmes, I'm going to have to ask you to stay after for detention next Monday evening. My office, right after dinner. And I'll be taking twenty points from Ravenclaw."

"Sure," he said, while his fellow Ravenclaws groaned. "Though I honestly don't see the problem."

"I wouldn't expect you to. I think we'll finish the tournament next class. Class dismissed." The professor when over to help Collins to his feet, but Sherlock didn't stick around. He took off up the staircase, ignoring John's calls.

John caught up to him on the seventh floor. "What the hell, Sherlock?!"

"What? I did nothing wrong."

"Yeah, well, that was nothing like you."

"Who're you to say what's like me? You've known me for not even two months, so stop acting like we have this deep understanding with each other. Now don't you have a Quidditch match to be practicing for?"

With that, he spun on his heel and turned the corner, practically sprinting to Ravenclaw tower the moment he was out of sight.

Sherlock did not go down to dinner that evening, and remained curled up under the blankets of his four-poster. No one dared bother him, so he had plenty of peace and quiet-he was, however, completely unable to fall asleep. If he did sleep into a slumber, it was haunted by dreams of times long past, and only managed to upset him more. Eventually, he pulled out a book and practiced some spellwork in the growing dark.

Out on the Quidditch pitch, John was also out of it. He had a hard time focusing on flying, and nearly crashed into Sarah twice, with whom he was still on good terms. He had a sneaking suspicion, though, that it was only because the team needed to stay united for the match next week. After that, they could be as rude as they wished for a while.

That practice, in general, was disastrous. It seemed that the events of that D.A.D.A. class had spread far and wide, and everyone was too busy gossiping about it to focus on what they were supposed to be doing. Even the Captain, Jared Reynolds, had a hard time directing the team, and was often got gossiping as well.

The keeper simply hovered there on her room, because she had no need to do anything-when one of the chasers actually tried to score, they missed by a margin of at least two full meters.

John, meanwhile, tried very hard to focus on catching the snitch, but his mind kept wandering back to Sherlock, and what he had said. He hadn't meant to upset the boy, but he also thought Sherlock's harsh words were very much uncalled for. He wondered what he was doing now-probably studying, and not being bothered by anything. He seemed incapable of emotions half the time, which was part of the reason John had been so surprised.

At one point, he thought he saw someone watching from one of the glowing windows of Ravenclaw tower, but before he had gotten a good look, they had vanished.