Guess who figured out how to upload documents from her tablet to her computer! This gal! I've had trouble with that for ages. For some reason I can't upload documents straight to on my tablet. And I like typing on my tablet because it's feels so... star trek. So, after a huge ordeal involving my laptop, tablet and phone and more apps than necessary I realized I can just email it to myself as an attachment, upload it to my computer which has Word, spell check, upload to and voila! You all have the new chapter!

This chapter is a bit of a two parter. It was looking to get ridiculously long so I cut it off. The bright side is, I've got part of the next chapter pre-written!

Halloween's around the corner and the school's been buzzing with anticipation for it. The wizarding world views Halloween as a sort of... second Christmas. Except with less gift giving. Basically the school gets a few days off, we eat a gigantic feast, and the students are set loose into a nearby town. It's a pretty big deal. I've heard the students talk about their plans and I must say, I'm actually pretty excited.

Sherlock is too, but only because the castle is practically deserted during the festivities and thus, free of annoyances.

Sherlock's been slacking on his classes lately. Partly because he knows that this close to a holiday no one's going to be able to focus, partly because he's getting lazy and partly because he had previously planned to do 'dirt and mud' type lessons and I wouldn't let him. They're obviously bullshit lessons and all of the students knew it. But no one really cares.

Most of his classes have been a sort of boot camp for the children. He'd take them all out into a denser part the forbidden forest, set loose a bunch of flying, glowing balls and tell them they have ten minutes to grab one and whoever comes back empty handed has to do fifty pushups. Then, once the ten minutes were up and the pushups were done, he'd take them to some place with damper ground, or slippery rocks, or steep hills and have them do it again. Once he took them to an empty field. The students thought they were getting a break. Turns out he planted land mines beforehand. They didn't hurt the runners, just surprised them a bit. Needless to say, they've learned to get very good at running in rough terrain.

Other days have just been Sherlock telling stories of different encounters with various types of dark magic. Mostly from other people's writings but he talked about some of his own experiences and some of the students even pitched in with their own unfortunate run-ins.

There was one point when one of the students piped up with "What about Harry? I bet he's got a lot to say."

Sherlock sighed "I believe we're all very aware of Potter's extraordinarily bad luck. Unless he'd like to expand on any of his experiences? No. Thought so. Let's move on."

Later, Sherlock told me of the poor boy's childhood and his previous years at Hogwarts. If it wasn't Sherlock telling me, there would've been no way I'd believe that one kid could be so terribly unfortunate and still be living. I've been finding myself unconsciously keeping a watchful eye on him when I see him in the great hall or in class, half expecting a dragon to burst from the walls and attack him. Seriously though. He's the target of a serial killer.

Anyways, Sherlock's classes have been steadily declining in new material as we approached the Halloween break. Yesterday, we had a lesson on patience. Meaning Sherlock laid on the floor for the entire hour and took off house points every time he heard anything make any sort of noise. The ravenclaws lost 30 points that day.

I'm really curious how the classes for the next few days could possibly be less educative than yesterday's. Maybe he'll just not appear at all.

"Alright, Let's go. Our lateness is beginning to surpass 'fashionable'." He announced as he emerged from the bedroom, dressed, oddly enough, in his coat and scarf.

"Wha- why are you-"

"No time to talk. Get in there and change into one of those terrible jumpers you're so fond of." He said, elbowing the door ajar and flopping onto the couch as if he's expecting me to take a while. I shrug and take up my one opportunity to dress comfortably. Robes may look fantastic on Sherlock and I'm sure they feel perfectly natural to him. But on me they're just... heavy. And they make me feel small. Like a kid wearing their dad's coat.

I'm practically glowing when I walk back into the office. It feels like ages since I've last worn jeans.

Within seconds of my opening the door, Sherlock leaps up from his place on the sofa and drags me off through the hallway. "Hurry up, John. We'll be late."

"You know, you say that every time but- oh never mind." Knowing him, he deliberately plans to be late for dramatic effect. Or he just likes having a reason to dart through the halls like a wet cat. "Could you just tell me what the normal clothes are for?"

"Do you remember last halloween?" He sighs, as if my ignorance is Such a burden on him. Poor Sherlock. Having to explain things to ordinary people.

"Uh... Yeah. Wasn't that when you insisted on going to crime scenes dressed up as a wiza- Oh!" I don't know how I missed how high-quality his 'costumes' always were. Or how he been dressed up as a wizard every year, yet his costumes were always different. I don't know how I failed to make the connection even after he told me he's actually a bloody wizard.

"Every halloween that I've spent in the muggle world, I indulged myself in dressing in my old robes for a week because they're really the only thing I miss from my wizarding years and I could get away with it on halloween. I thought dressing in muggle clothes while I'm back in the magical world might add a nice sense of symmetry to my life." He explains, popping his collar up against his neck and pulling his coat tighter around him, like a swan preening. "The magical world may not have adopted the custom of dressing in costume. But I've missed dressing normally more than I expected to."

Our pace slowed to a brisk walk when Sherlock either decided we were less late than he had thought or he just doesn't care about how late we are anymore. "Sherlock? Can I ask you something?"

"Asking me if you can ask me something is indeed asking me something. So, I'd assume so." He drawled, oozing with smugness.

I roll my eyes at him and he smirks back at me. "Why did you leave... this? You said witches and wizards and things had their own world and all of it's based around magic and spells and potions. Why would you choose to leave all of that for the ordinary world?"

"I got bored." Sherlock is possibly the only person who can get bored of all of this. Moving portraits? I can see a movie any day. Unicorns? Pfft. Anyone could put a horn on a horse. Just transformed into a cat? Couldn't manage a dragon, eh?

"Bored? Of magic?"

He clears his throat. "Yes. Tremendously bored. All there is here is magic, you see. It's all anyone cares about. Are you magic? Are your parents magic? Both of them? How good at magic are you? Which kind? Even the murders are incredibly boring. The cause is always 'by magic' and the motive is always 'because they weren't magic enough'. I decided I had learned everything I needed to my fifth year in school, left as soon as I could and never once looked back." To highlight his point, he yawns. I'm not sure I understand his point, but then again I don't really understand magic.

In minutes, we're standing in front of the doors of Sherlock's classroom. He hesitates for just a few seconds and turns to me.

"You might have already caught on to this, but I'll say it anyways." A daring smirk crossed his face. "This- dressing like muggles in front of a class of wizards- is incredibly dangerous." I grinned back and threw open the doors without another word.

I've already caught on that some wizards- well a lot of wizards, worryingly enough- are extremely racist against the non-magical. Even wizards born from muggles or have one muggle parent are discriminated against. The ones who aren't outright spiteful look down on muggles as lesser being. Frankly, I don't know which is worse. I was incredibly lucky that only three people caught on thus far that I'm not a wizard. Two of those three are nice kids who don't care much and one is Snape. I'm not worried about what he thinks because he's an enemy of Sherlock's and his opinions don't count. Others may be suspicious that I'm not quite right, but telling everyone that I'm a muggle might bring up some problems. But if this is part of Sherlock's plan, I just have to trust him not to get me killed or something.

I flash my battle smile at the gawking class as I struggle to keep up with Sherlock's long-legged strut. We've got hufflepuff and ravenclaw today, which have always seemed like the milder of the four houses. Slytherin is generally sly and backstabbing if you get on their bad side. Then sly and manipulative if you're on their good side. Gryffindor as a whole reminds me a bit of one of my old girlfriends. Fiery, loud and quite passionate in her beliefs. She was great until I had to break up with her when she tried forcing me to move in with her by burning down 221b with Sherlock inside. She still sends us letters and drawings every now and then from prison. Her Christmas cards are especially lovely.

Anyways, as Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are more reserved than the other two houses, so their reactions to our entrance is mainly just gasps and whispers. Most of them look mainly confused, some of them giggle at the absurdity, some look outright offended, and one girl sitting in a corner smiles vaguely at us. I'm not sure what her smile could mean, though.

Sherlock takes his place at the podium and I take a seat at his desk, putting myself to work grading the papers that Sherlock has outright refused to do himself. They're too dull and boring for him. He doesn't know how professors can put up with reading hundreds of nearly identical papers all about things they already know. So he almost never assigns written homework. His assignments are usually something like 'Conjure up a sack of potatoes and carry it a mile. This must be executed in one go.' or 'Break into a common room that is not your own by whatever means you find convenient.' or 'Insult professor Snape using the words 'napkin', 'olive' or 'trousers'. I'll know if you don't so don't try weaseling out of it.'

"Today, I have a brief lesson in muggle weaponry and defense planned. I understand that some of you are indeed taking the muggle studies class. But what you must understand is that muggle studies is utter bullshit. As you have already noticed, John and I are dressed as muggles. What you probably have not noticed is the fact that I myself have spent the last 13 years as a muggle and John had been a muggle all his life. You may be thinking a lesson about muggles has no place in a class about defending one's self from the darker magics, and you may be right about that. But nonetheless, this in an important lesson which you'll need to learn if you want to be any less ignorant than your predecessors. Any questions?"

I'm sure many people had very strong opinions, but no one spoke up.