Chapter 3

The Mysterious Case of Sirius Black

"Harry! Calm down!" Sherlock exclaimed.

Emrys sighed and shook his head. For all their intellect, his brothers never really got the hang of human nature. His eyes flashed gold as he cast a calming spell at the boy.

The tremors subsided. Mycroft sighed and wondered if his home would survive the ordeal.

"Sirius Black may be innocent," John said quickly. "We will investigate further, but Sherlock has found several discrepancies in the case."

"Oh," Harry said, shamefaced. "I'm sorry."

John glared at Sherlock. The detective flushed.

"There is no need for you to apologise, Harry," Sherlock said. "I could have used better words."

Harry looked up at him. "Is it true?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Then why shouldn't you say it?"

Sherlock smiled triumphantly at John, who shrugged resignedly.

"You may wish to write to your friends and assure them of your safety while I take care of Albus and the Ministry," Mycroft suggested. "Dinner will be served in an hour."

"Thank you," Harry said, and Mycroft left. Sherlock and John followed him.

Emrys showed Harry around the room and where his trunk was stored.

"Don't hesitate to call one of us if you need anything, ok?" he told the boy. "And don't let Sherlock or Mycroft scare you or push you into doing anything you don't want to. They may be clever and powerful, but they're big softies on the inside – trust me, I know."

"I'm really going to live with Sherlock Holmes?" Harry asked, still unable to wrap his mind around the idea. "Why would he even want me?"

"You are magically bonded now," Emrys explained. "Sherlock performed very dangerous magic to save you."

"Is he ok?"

"He's fine. Mycroft fixed him. And before you ask, Mycroft's fine, too." Emrys shot him a disarming smile.

Harry smiled back.

"I'll leave you to your letters, then. Be ready in an hour; I'll come to fetch you for dinner."

XXX

Dinner was a quiet affair as Harry was clearly exhausted and the adults were reluctant to tax him further. Emrys and John made small talk. Harry was delighted to learn that John had been in Gryffindor, too and a little disappointed that the three Holmeses were Beauxbatons alumni.

"But don't you have houses in Beauxbatons?" Harry asked curiously.

Mycroft smiled indulgently. "Had we studied at Hogwarts, I believe all three of us would have been in Slytherin."

Harry frowned. So did John.

"I'd have thought Ravenclaw for Sherlock and Gryffindor for Emrys," the doctor said.

"We are not as different as you might think," Emrys replied.

Sherlock pouted, but did not object.

"If anything, Mycroft is the least ambitious of us all," Emrys continued. "He is more likely to have been shunted to Ravenclaw."

"Mycroft says bravery is the kindest word for stupidity," John objected.

"And he wouldn't be caught dead in Gryffindor," Emrys replied. "Sherlock might, though."

"But you're nice," Harry objected. "All of you!"

Sherlock looked appalled at being called nice. So did Mycroft, but less visibly. Emrys laughed heartily.

"Beware, young Harry," Emrys warned, still laughing. "You must never publicly accuse my brothers of being nice! It will ruin their reputation." He turned serious. "Whatever you might have been told, Harry, bear in mind that Slytherin does not equate to evil. There are good people and bad people in all houses."

"But Voldemort…"

"Was just one Slytherin. There have been plenty of Dark witches and wizards from all houses. And there have been plenty of good witches and wizards in Slytherin." Emrys narrowed his eyes. "If I am not mistaken, I'd have thought the Sorting Hat would have offered you Slytherin as well."

Harry started. How had Emrys known?

As if sensing the unspoken question, Emrys replied, "If your adventures are anything to go by, you possess many fine qualities Salazar would have valued."

"Dumbledore said the same thing," Harry mumbled.

Mycroft nodded thoughtfully. "While recent events may dictate otherwise, Albus is a great man – just not infallible. He made a mistake with you, Harry, but my brothers and I will do our best to rectify the same."

Harry stared at the napkin in his lap, unable to answer. He felt a gentle hand settle on his shoulder, and looked up into the face of Sherlock Holmes, regarding him softly.

"Are you sure it is ok for me to stay with you?" he blurted. "I mean, I can go to an orphanage or something. Anywhere except the Dursleys is fine."

Sherlock's face hardened. He opened his mouth to speak, but then stopped. He sent John a beseeching look.

"Sherlock will appreciate your company, Harry," John said gently. "He could do with a bit of looking after, too. The flat is a pigsty when I'm not around."

Sherlock glared at his doctor, but softened when Harry laughed.

"We should set up more protective wards around 221B, though," Emrys suggested. Mycroft agreed with him.

Harry yawned, and the adults immediately sent him off to bed.

"You need to clean the flat," John told Sherlock as soon as Harry was out of earshot. "He'll run away screaming if he sees your fridge."

"You know you are always welcome to stay here as long as you like, Sherlock," Mycroft said.

"Thank you, brother dear," Sherlock replied. "But it might be best to let the boy get used to Baker Street as soon as possible."

"I have some time off," Emrys said quickly. "I'll help out."

Sherlock was torn between relief and irritation. He finally settled for a small smile at his younger brother.

"And you know that you are more than welcome to come around to my place anytime you want, Sherlock," John reminded him. "I hope you remember that you're going to be my daughter's godfather in a few weeks."

"Yes, John," Sherlock intoned.

Emrys and Mycroft exchanged a look that went unnoticed by the detective and the doctor.

XXX

Two days later, Harry Potter officially moved into 221B Baker Street as the ward of Sherlock Holmes. Mrs Hudson cooed over him as if he were her own grandchild, and was delighted to meet Emrys again.

Mycroft had smoothed things over at the Ministry of Magic as well as Hogwarts, so no one bothered Harry. Ron and Hermione didn't really have a chance to worry over their friend; Harry's letter reached them before news of his misfortune did. Ron, of course, was blissfully enjoying Egypt and suggested they meet in Diagon Alley a couple of days before they left for school. Hermione was back from her vacation with her parents, and absolutely thrilled to learn the identity of Harry's new guardian. Soon enough, she was sending him requests to arrange a meeting.

Emrys had set up John's room for Harry, much to Harry's delight. John's Spartan furnishings had been magically replaced by appropriate (and inappropriate, courtesy of Sherlock) items for a thirteen year old wizard. Emrys even added a spot of wizarding space so that when Harry had his friends over, there would be plenty of space.

A few days after Harry and Emrys moved in, Detective Inspector Lestrade walked into 221B to summon Sherlock (who wasn't answering his phone as usual) and found Emrys and Harry seated in Sherlock and John's chairs and focused on a game of chess.

Greg Lestrade was not a superstitious man, nor a man who believed in magic or miracles. However, when it came to Sherlock Holmes, he had learnt to expect the unexpected. A younger version of Sherlock and a child was, however, the last thing he expected in Sherlock's abode.

Greg shook his head to clear it and rubbed his eyes thoroughly to drive away the exhaustion of two consecutive all-nighters. Hoping the mirage would resolve itself, he opened his eyes and found the same view greeting him.

"Er…hello?"

Emrys and Harry looked up at the Detective Inspector.

"Hello," Emrys said. "You must be Detective Inspector Lestrade. Sherlock speaks well of you."

Now Greg was sure he had fallen through the looking glass. "He does?!"

Emrys laughed. "Well, he implies it. And if you believe John, Sherlock's been known to say 'he's a man and good at it' about you. For Sherlock, that's high praise."

Greg flushed, pleased.

"I'm Emrys Holmes, Sherlock's younger brother," Emrys continued. "And that's Harry Potter, Sherlock's ward."

Greg's jaw hit the floor. It took him a full minute to get his bearings. There was another Holmes, who was actually nice and Sherlock had become a guardian to a young boy. Wait, what?!

"Who in their right mind gave Sherlock the custody of a child?!" the question burst out before Greg could stop it.

Emrys and Harry, who had been wearing near-identical expressions of amusement till now, frowned.

"And why, may I ask, would you assume that my brother is incapable of caring for a child?" Emrys sounded exactly like Mycroft. If Greg had any doubt that he was not a Holmes, it vanished.

Greg flushed again. "Look, I know Sherlock is a genius and all, and God knows I care for the bugger, but Sherlock needs looking after – he is barely more than a child except for his great brain!"

Harry stood up. "I am thirteen," he said coldly. "I don't need a babysitter. Sherlock is a great guardian."

Greg threw up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. As luck would have it, Donovan chose that moment to barge in.

"Greg, have you found the freak yet?" she demanded, throwing the door open.

Emrys and Harry glared at her. Greg winced.

"Whatever your case is, Sherlock will not be taking it," Emrys declared. "He does not need to put up with abuse for his charity."

"And who the hell are you to speak for the freak?" Donovan spat.

"I am Emrys Holmes, Sherlock's younger brother, and this is Harry Potter, Sherlock's ward. And I will thank you, Sergeant Donovan, to keep a civil tongue in your mouth when speaking of my family," Emrys told her, his voice dripping ice.

While Emrys' rage was icy, Harry's ire burned hot. He trembled at the use of the word 'freak' – a moniker used all too often by his so-called family, and to have the same word hurled at his protector, his guardian, who had been nothing but kind to him, literally fuelled the fire. Donovan's jacket caught fire.

"You should be more careful with your cigarette lighter, Sally Donovan," Emrys said gleefully, grabbing a can of fire extinguisher and covering her with foam. "I am afraid I will have to agree with my brother about the collective intelligence of the police force."

Greg sighed. "Go home, Donovan," he said tiredly.

"You're going to let him speak to me like that?" she raged.

"You were out of line."

She stamped her foot and walked away.

"I'm sorry about that," Greg said to Emrys and Harry.

Emrys had his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Wake Sherlock, would you, Harry?" Emrys requested, releasing the boy.

Harry scooted off.

"Look, Detective Inspector, I know you are a good man – but please understand this. You have to take control of the abuse Sherlock faces at New Scotland Yard. Mycroft doesn't interfere because Sherlock's forbidden him to, but your juniors have already crossed the line once before, and you lost Sherlock for two years. I will not go into the details of what Sherlock faced during the time, but know this – if you knew, you would not be able to sleep for months. And then there's Harry, who is still traumatised. His previous guardians beat him to a pulp and left him for dead. Sherlock rescued him and took him in. The last thing we want is any idiot triggering Harry's PTSD. 'Freak' is one word which must never be uttered in Harry's presence. From the time he was a year old, his relatives used the word to excuse their abuse of him."

Greg sighed. "I understand."

Sherlock chose that moment to walk in, with Harry right behind him. "Little brother, have you been lecturing Scotland Yard?"

Emrys grinned. "You missed all the fun, Sherlock. We sprayed Donovan with foam."

Sherlock smiled. "What brings you here, Gunter?"

Greg sighed again. "Greg," he said automatically. "Need your help. A mass murderer is on the loose, but they won't tell us where he escaped from. Apparently he killed thirteen people with a gas blast twelve years ago – God knows how."

"Ah," Sherlock said. "You speak of Sirius Black."

Greg nodded.

"I looked into it. Black is innocent; he was framed and wrongfully imprisoned. I'd advise you to shove the case file in the archives and move onto something else."

"But…"

"I will not help you put an innocent man away, Detective Inspector," Sherlock said firmly.

"Shouldn't you help me prove him innocent?" Greg challenged.

Sherlock smiled. "Very good, Gregory," he said. "There may be hope yet for Scotland Yard after all." He turned serious. "Forget the case. MI6 will take it away from you by tomorrow."

Greg rubbed his face tiredly and nodded. Then he stepped forward and hugged Sherlock.

"Let me know if you need any help with anything, you magnificent bastard."

Sherlock Holmes stared after his friend in shock while Emrys and Harry giggled.

XXX

The same evening, Emrys took Harry for a walk while Sherlock visited Mycroft to discuss developments in the Sirius Black case. Emrys bought a Knickerbocker Glory for Harry and went to get a coffee for himself.

Harry ate his sundae with great relish, wondering what Dudley would say if he saw him now. The Holmes brothers were clearly moneyed, and the Dursleys would probably have mooned over them. He imagined Mycroft taking on Uncle Vernon and laughed to himself.

A bark interrupted his reverie. A shaggy black dog, clearly in dire need of food and grooming, looked up at him sadly.

"Are you hungry?" Harry asked softly. He could have sworn the dog nodded. Harry held out his sundae, and the dog wagged his tail happily as he devoured it. Feeling around in his pockets, Harry found a pack of biscuits and fed them to the dog as well. The dog butted Harry's knee with its head as Harry scratched his ears.

"Got yourself a dog, Harry?" Emrys asked, eyeing the dog carefully.

"Do you think Sherlock would mind if we took him home – just for a few days? I think he's lost and hungry," Harry asked Emrys, his eyes pleading.

Emrys smiled. "Oh, Sherlock loves dogs. I think he will find this one very interesting indeed."

XXX

Sherlock did. Once he was given a wash, the dog – 'Snuffles', according to Harry – turned out to be quite a handsome specimen, though a bit undernourished.

"Don't worry, we'll fatten you up in no time at all," Harry promised, patting the dog.

The dog whined affectionately.

Sherlock and Emrys, meanwhile, were having a hushed discussion in the kitchen.

"That's not a real dog," Sherlock said. "He bears all the markings of an Animagus."

"It's Sirius Black, Sherlock. I can see his true form," Emrys replied.

Sherlock rubbed his hands. "Excellent. Let's call Mycroft and return Harry's godfather to him. I have enough evidence to prove his innocence, and he can be questioned under Veritaserum for good measure."

Mycroft Holmes was only too happy to come over.

XXX

"Hello, Harry," Mycroft said, twirling his umbrella. "How is my favourite nephew doing?"

Harry smiled up at him. "I'm your only nephew," he replied cheekily. "Meet Snuffles, our new housemate."

"Hello, Sirius," Mycroft said. "We have been looking for you."

The dog shrank away.

Emrys sighed. His brothers and their dramatics.

"Don't worry, Mr Black, we know you are innocent," Emrys said.

"If you could tell us where Pettigrew might be, we will be able to get you off the hook for good," Sherlock added.

The dog turned into a wizard and Sirius Black narrated the entire story to his godson and his newfound protectors.