A.N. Sorry for the massive gap, I sort of lost my motivation… But here is another chapter! Although not much happens.

Sherlock was staring down at his toast; it was 8 o'clock in the morning on Saturday and he was lost in thought. He hadn't seen John since Care of Magical Creatures yesterday, and he may have been a bit distracted…He couldn't remember if he'd actually spoken to him; feeling slightly guilty the tall wizard sighed. He needed John; but John would be grumpy. Sherlock was coming to realise the effect the shorter wizard had on him, it was always easier to think around him, to solve the problems. Sighing again, he stood, leaving his uneaten toast to congeal at the table.

John made his way down the marble staircase toward the Great Hall, he was looking forward to his first cuppa and had decided that toast and kippers would really hit the spot this morning. The blonde was slightly annoyed with his friend, but that was just what Sherlock was like. Still, a quiet breakfast without the temperamental idiot would be nice.

Busy thinking about the pile of homework he had to finish this weekend, John reached the bottom of the stairs. Frowning at the thought of the two foot essay on goblin wars that was waiting for him upstairs, the blonde nearly walked into Sherlock before he noticed him.

'Sherlock! Good morning.' John smiled, trying to look pleased as his plans for a quiet breakfast dissolved in front of him.

'John. We need to talk, I've found some new data and…'

'No no no. Not so fast mate. I haven't even had my morning tea yet.' John interrupted him quickly. The brunet looked slightly taken aback that John hadn't grasped the importance of his news.

'But…'

'No. Seriously. Look, how about I meet you down by the lake in half an hour or so?'

'Half an…! Fine.' The pale wizard pouted at him, then spun on his heel and stalked out of the front doors. John looked after him for a moment then turned into the Hall, the smell of bacon and toast expelling almost all other thoughts from his head. He couldn't deny it though, he was as keen to find out what Sherlock had found as his friend was to tell him. But he wasn't like Sherlock; he couldn't function on no sleep, barely enough food to feed a bird and all that rushing about it. He settled down at the Gryffindor table and pulled every dish within arm's reach toward himself, determined to enjoy his breakfast.

However, barely 20minutes later, John was out the front doors, striding toward the lake with a spare piece of toast in his hand which he hadn't quite finished. Seeing Sherlock's figure pacing backward and forward on the near side of the cold-looking lake, John upped his pace slightly and scrambling down onto the shingle, stuffed the last morsel of toast into his mouth.

Sherlock turned at the sound of disturbed pebbles, saw John and strode over. His dark cloak blew out behind him in the chilly breeze that ruffled the surface of the lake, John shivered, he wished he'd stopped and brought a cloak. The sun was hidden behind angry looking clouds and the lake was dark and uninviting, looking over at the far bank he saw the Whomping Willow's bare branches swaying deceptively in the light wind.

'Well, that wasn't quite the full half-hour was it?' Said Sherlock, grinning crookedly.

'Oh shut up.' Muttered John, hunching his shoulders inside his knitted jumper. 'Go on. Tell me what's so bloody important that it could hardly wait until I'd finished eating.'

Sherlock took a deep breath, peering out over the grey lake. 'Well, I know that the victim was petrified by some sort of object or magical creation which was controlled by a wizard. This wizard, or witch, is from Slytherin and has a plan to remove from the school all of those deemed unworthy to study magic.' He looked sideways at John. 'Those that are Muggleborn…'

John frowned at him. 'Why is it such a big thing to be Muggleborn!?' He asked, feeling angry at his blood status and confused why it was such a big deal. Sherlock didn't answer him immediately, John felt his heart sinking, did Sherlock think there was something wrong with it too? Was he about to tell him that he didn't want to be friends anymore? There had always been a few students who made it obvious they were against 'mudbloods' but he had thought Sherlock didn't care; it was true that some of his fellow Ravenclaws had looked down on their friendship and sneered at him. It had never really bothered him before but if Sherlock…

'There are some Wizarding families who believe magic can only be passed down by direct wizarding parentage; they feel that those wizards or witches with non-magical parents are reducing the purity of our world by making a connection with the muggle world. It's really the classic human hierarchy though: we like to have people below us to make us feel more important.' He paused, giving John a quick look. John was still scowling, hugging himself against the cold.

'So they just think we're impure, even though we can do the exact same magic.' He snorted.

'Yes. It has absolutely no basis in fact and is frankly, I think, a ridiculous theory.' Sherlock spoke distastefully. 'Obviously there is some genetic change that creates magical blood or there are some traces of magical blood within the family tree of a muggleborn.' He looked at John again, Sherlock knew he should say something comforting or reassuring to John but he had no clue how to start. Swinging his arms slightly, he peeked another look at the disgruntled blonde beside him, then clearing his throat he spoke.

'Look. John.' The blonde looked up at him with furrowed brows. 'It's a stupid idea that some posh, 'pureblood' wizard thought up to give himself more power. Don't let it bother you because you are a better wizard than many purebloods and anyone that thinks it's a problem is an idiot.' He smiled brightly at his friend, Sherlock thought he had done quite a good job there, he'd even thrown in a complement because John had told him they were good.

'Yeah. I guess.' John looked at him strangely. Sherlock didn't drop his bright grin. 'Ok, you can stop smiling now, it's a little creepy.' Sherlock's face immediately turned to normal.

They stood beside each other on the damp stones, looking out over the choppy water in companionable silence. As they watched, a lone tentacle broke the surface and swayed there for a moment as if testing the air before sliding smoothly beneath the dancing water again. It didn't come up again.

John broke the silence. 'So, did you get anything on the Chamber of Secrets?'

'Yup. I went and did some of my own research, it's a legend; apparently there is a secret chamber built by Salazar Slytherin within the school which contains a deadly creature. But no one has ever found it and there have been extensive searches…It could just be a myth.' He sighed.

'But don't myths generally have some basis in real events?' Thought John aloud. Sherlock nodded beside him.

'It could be one theory, but due to the lack of evidence we can't look at it as the only explanation. It could just be someone trying to make it look like the Chamber legend.' Sherlock clasped his hands beneath his chin. 'And I can't find anything about petrifying! There are plenty of creatures that kill but none that petrify, and no spells that I can find that do it either.' He sounded frustrated, John just groaned sympathetically.

'If it was a magical creature though, how could it be getting around the castle? Isn't it more likely a person did it?' John was trying to think how Sherlock's theories involving animals would work out but could see one massive flaw.

Of course Sherlock had thought of that already. 'The castle is a perfect place really, it's so old, the walls are thick and there is no way there could be people in every corridor all the time.'

'So you reckon it would be quite easy to hide a giant monster in the school?'

'Yes. I tested it last afternoon.'

'Oh. Um, how?'

'I brought a Niffler inside and attempted to keep it out of sight or teachers and students alike. It was surprisingly simple.' Sherlock stated. John gaped at him for a moment, then thinking it through he closed his mouth. It was Sherlock, of course he'd tested his theory by touring a magical creature around the castle.

John shivered again, thinking about a giant monster stalking through the castle. Sherlock noticed and spun on his heel, turning up the bank and back toward the castle. John jumped slightly at his sudden movement, then turned and followed him. He was forced to jog because of the speed his friend was going, but was glad they were returning as his fingers had gone white.

A.N. Please review! Tell me what you think, any ideas ect