Chapter 2
The Other One
[Author Note: Merlin is just too tempting. I just couldn't resist! Mostly the Holmes in this chapter – but Harry will wake up soon and the Dursleys will get what's coming to them.]
"So, what happens to Harry once he wakes up?" John asked over a lavish breakfast at Mycroft's home the next morning. "You clearly can't send him back to his guardians."
"If I am not mistaken, the boy's magic will now recognise Sherlock as his guardian, just as his familiar does," Mycroft said. He looked at his brother. "Would you be willing to take custody of a child?"
Hedwig had turned up the previous night, pecked Sherlock and settled next to the sleeping boy. Sherlock had spent most of the night gathering data and now knew all there was to know about The Boy-Who-Lived. "It seems the only option to keep him safe," he said. "The blood protection invoked by Dumbledore is useless if his family nearly kills him, and an unrelated guardian would become a target for Voldemort."
"You do realise there is a psychotic killer out for his blood?" John asked glancing at the Daily Prophet headlines which proclaimed 'Mass-murderer Escapee from Azkaban abducts The Boy-Who-Lived!'.
"Who, Sirius Black? I looked him up last night. I am reasonably sure he is innocent," Sherlock replied. "He is also Harry's godfather."
"Are you sure about this, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked grimly.
"There are too many irregularities in his case. There is no documented Dark Mark on his forearm. He was not given a trial or questioned under Veritaserum. Why would he go after Pettigrew? It doesn't make sense." Sherlock paused. "Now they are trying to pin the blame for Harry's disappearance on Black as well."
"Then it is time for us to interfere," came a soft voice from the doorway.
Sherlock and Mycroft's faces melted into the fondest, softest smile John had ever seen on either Holmes. The newcomer was a young man in his early twenties and looked a lot like Sherlock.
The man practically ran to Mycroftand embraced him. John expected Mycroft to shrink back in horror or stop him with a look, but Mycroft smiled, patted him on the back and kissed his brow. Sherlock mirrored his brothers' actions. John could scarcely believe his eyes.
"John, this is our brother, Emrys Holmes," Sherlock told the befuddled doctor, smiling – really, genuinely smiling, not the crazy, scary, psychopath smile he terrorised people with.
John held out a hand to Emrys. "Er…lovely to meet you."
The three brothers laughed.
"Don't look so shocked, John," Sherlock said, his trademark smirk back on his face. "We are not completely incapable of affection."
"Whatever happened to 'caring is not an advantage' and 'sentiment is the grit in the lens, the fly in the ointment'?" John shot back.
"That's for people. Emrys is not people." Sherlock sounded like a petulant child.
Emrys laughed. "Oh, they care all right, Dr Watson – they are just too emotionally constipated to show it properly. I've been training them my entire life to get to this stage."
John swallowed his shock with great difficulty and turned to Sherlock. "So…when you say you are related to Emrys, you mean him, right? Not Merlin himself?"
Emrys looked surprised. He turned to Sherlock. "You trust him?"
"With my life," Sherlock replied.
"And with ours?" Emrys pressed.
Sherlock glanced at Mycroft. "Yes," Mycroft said firmly.
Emrys smiled and looked so much like Sherlock for a moment that John felt affection well up in him for the youngest Holmes.
"Dr Watson, I am Merlin," Emrys declared. "And I am very pleased to finally meet you."
"You're kidding me," John murmured.
"I assure you, John, my brother is quite serious," Sherlock said.
John cursed under his breath. Mycroft and Emrys cocked an eyebrow each, and John could see the similarities between them as well.
"Give a bloke some time to digest this, yeah?" John muttered. "I assume all of this is well beyond a mortal's clearance levels and I must not breathe a word to anyone, including my wife?"
"I am afraid so," Mycroft said.
"All right then, should we check up on Harry Potter?" John asked brightly.
In the hour that followed, John learnt that Emrys was the nicest Holmes. He was clumsy, friendly, likeable, a bit shy and ridiculously normal. He was also the baby of the family and his older brothers clearly doted on him. John had never imagined in his wildest dreams that Sherlock – and hell, Mycroft – could be so openly affectionate. There were no insults (thinly veiled or otherwise) when Emrys knocked over things (and he did that a lot).
Harry Potter remained under the sleeping spell and healed nicely – mostly thanks to Sherlock's reckless magic. Emrys was not pleased with his brothers.
"I told you not to do that, Sherlock," he said to the detective, his eyes flashing gold. "Why won't you ever listen to me? You could have died!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
Emrys turned to Mycroft. "And you! Get over your big brother act before it kills you!"
Mycroft rolled his eyes as well.
To John's horror, Emrys' eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to lose my brothers," he said in a small voice.
Sherlock and Mycroft were immediately contrite. While the British Government and the Consulting Detective were busy fawning over their baby brother, trying to comfort him, Emrys looked up at John and winked.
The youngest Holmes was much cleverer than he looked, John realised. He could play his brothers as well as Sherlock played the violin. Smiling to himself, he left for work.
XXX
John returned to Mycroft's townhouse the next evening. Sherlock had texted him, indicating that Harry had healed enough to be woken.
He found the three Holmes brothers talking quietly. They smiled at him when he entered.
"May I see your wand, Dr Watson?" Emrys asked.
"John," the doctor said, and shook his wand out of his sleeve. Emrys examined it carefully and handed it back.
"Sheesham wood, dragon heartstring – unusual combination. You must be a very interesting man, John. No wonder Sherlock adores you so," Emrys said.
Sherlock's high cheekbones flushed a delicate shade of red.
John cleared his throat. "It can't possibly be more unusual than Sherlock's."
"We hardly use our wands, John," Sherlock said. "We got one for school, but we don't need it."
"How do you focus your magic…?" John began, but stopped. "Sorry, stupid. Of course you don't need an external aid to focus your magic."
"I believe it is time we checked upon young Mr Potter," Mycroft declared.
The four men walked to the room where the boy slept.
"Emrys, if you would be so kind," Mycroft said, gesturing at the child.
The youngest Holmes' eyes flashed gold as he laid a gentle hand upon the boy's chest. The boy took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
And promptly panicked, his brilliant green eyes glowing eerily like an Avada Kedavra. John stepped back automatically as everything in the room shook.
"Harry," Sherlock called, his deep baritone soft and soothing. "Calm down. You are safe."
Harry's eyes flicked to Sherlock and he held out his hand. Sherlock took the boy's hand. Their eyes flashed silver and the boy calmed visibly. The room stopped shaking.
"How are you feeling?" John asked, stepping up next to Sherlock.
Harry blinked owlishly and Sherlock handed him a pair of glasses.
"Surprisingly well," Harry replied, sitting up on the bed. "What happened? Who are you?"
Sherlock introduced everyone in the room.
Harry's eyes widened. "You're the famous detective! How did you find me?"
"What do you remember?"
Harry frowned. "I was angry. Aunt Marge was badmouthing my parents. I…" He hesitated.
"You can speak of magic freely," Sherlock said.
"I blew her up like a balloon. She floated out of the house. I grabbed my trunk – I knew I was going to be expelled, so I thought I'd get some money from Gringotts and find somewhere to live…but I couldn't get out. Something hit me at the back and I fell. Then they started hitting me…I don't remember anything else." He looked up at the four adults. "What happens to me now? What do expelled wizards do?"
"You will not be expelled," Sherlock said firmly. "If you wish to go back to Hogwarts to complete your education, you are free to do so."
"Really?" the hope in the boy's voice was heart-breaking. John noticed that Emrys' eyes watered.
"Absolutely," Sherlock promised.
"You won't send me back to the Dursleys? I know Dumbledore says it is for my protection, but…" Harry looked away.
"You will not return to those…cretins," Sherlock spat out the last word.
Harry heaved a sigh of relief.
"However, there is the matter of your protection," Mycroft spoke up. John noticed that he spoke gently, in a tone he had never heard the oldest Holmes brother use before.
Harry's face crumpled. Emrys rushed to the boy's side and knelt on the floor.
"You are not going back to them. We won't let it happen. I promise," he told Harry.
"Sherlock triggered an ancient magic to save your life, Mr Potter," Mycroft said. "As a consequence, your magic now considers him a guardian."
"And I am happy to offer you a home," Sherlock added quickly.
Harry blinked.
"As far as your relatives are concerned, they presently incarcerated for child abuse and grievous injury to a minor by Muggle authorities. Your Headmaster has requested that a magical prosecution be avoided to stem any magical backlash against Muggle-borns and Muggles in general – but should you wish otherwise, we can arrange for a magical trial for the Dursleys as well," Mycroft continued smoothly.
"You threw the Dursleys in jail?" Harry asked, regarding Mycroft with something dangerously close to adulation. "For what they did to me?"
"Indeed." Mycroft sounded pleased.
"And you will send them to wizarding jail if I ask?"
"Of course."
"Thank you," Harry said fervently. "Don't bother with the wizarding trial; Dumbledore is right, it will only make life difficult for Muggle-borns and Muggles. All Muggles are not bad – my friend Hermione's parents are very nice."
"Very well," Mycroft replied. "Should I inform your Headmaster that you will be taking up Sherlock's offer?"
Harry nodded.
"Shouldn't you also let the Ministry know that he is safe? I am sure his friends are worried," John said.
Harry looked confused. Emrys handed him a copy of The Daily Prophet. Harry read it quickly.
"Who is Sirius Black?" he asked curiously. "And why would he want to kidnap me?"
"According to popular opinion, Sirius Black is your father's best friend and your godfather, and betrayed your parents to Voldemort by breaking the Fidelus Charm, and then blew up his friend Peter Pettigrew along with thirteen Muggles," Sherlock replied.
The room shook again as Harry trembled.
