The bright fires of the castle contrasted heavily with the darkness just outside of the grounds. Harry thought this contrast to be quite beautiful from his lake boat, which had just crossed under the stone archway that served as a bridge for the carriages the older students took. The first years collectively gasped as Hogwarts came into view.
"It's beautiful," Hermione murmured.
"Indeed," Harry agreed, taking in every window, wall and crevice he could observe from the distance. After another few minutes of quietly drifting across the watery blackness, the group arrived at a small docking area. Hagrid led them to a massive doorway.
A stern-looking woman stood in front of the large wooden doors, watching the first years carefully. The gaze was like Sherlock's, curious and observant, and also stern. However, it was also kind, like John's. Harry wasn't sure what to make of her. She was definitely a school administrator and likely a teacher as well.
"I am Professor McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now before you are sorted into your houses, there are a few things you must know," she said.
Harry half paid attention to the professor's speech as he was also observing his classmates. Many appeared to be paying rapt attention to Professor McGonagall. Only Draco Malfoy and his cronies appeared to be totally ignoring her.
Nervous energy made it's way throughout the group. Some tapped their toes while others seemed to slightly rock back and forth in place. Finally, Professor McGonagall had stopped and gestured to the doors that slowly opened.
If Harry thought the Entrance Hall was large, then the Great Hall was colossal. Harry had no doubt he could cram an entire house in the hall. Candles floated above, but appeared to never drip wax. Four tables divided the main floor up while the table where the other professors sat.
In the dead center of the teacher's table, an old man with a long, wispy, white beard stood and spread his arms in welcome. His half-moon spectacles partially covered wise blue eyes that scanned each and every student for a brief moment. Harry noticed the man's gaze wavered on him for a moment longer than anyone else.
"When I call your name, please come forward to be sorted," Professor McGonagall announced to the first years.
First there was Hannah Abbott who approached a small stool with a brown tattered hat on it. At the encouragement of Professor McGonagall, she put the hat on. Suddenly, it sprung to life and started speaking. Hannah was promptly sorted into Hufflepuff. The table on Harry's far right applauded. The young girl set the talking hat back on the stool quickly and walked over to the table.
This process happened quite a few more times before Professor McGonagall called, "Harry Potter."
The hall broke into a flurry of whispers as students stared at Harry with a range of emotions that Harry could barely comprehend in the heat of the moment. He now understood when Sherlock would hide away from the world to regain his senses. Harry'd never experienced sensory overload before but now he wished he was back outside the door, where it was semi-quiet.
"Can everyone please shut up for a few seconds?" he growled softly. A few students close to him at the time instantly stopped whispering. Harry felt a little bad but still irritable. As soon as the hat slipped over his ears, he was plunged into silence.
Hm… intelligent and quite eager to learn. However, you possess the cunning and charisma of a Slytherin. Tricky one, you are.
"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to go into Ravenclaw," Harry replied.
Ravenclaw? Are sure? There's no going back and Slytherin could definitely help you on the way to greatness.
Sherlock's visage appeared in the darkness, staring at Harry intensely. Harry felt his cool, deductive side begging him to choose Slytherin instead. Suddenly, John's face joined in and while John didn't outright smile, his eyes were filled with warmth.
"I've seen greatness in one of my parents and frankly, even he would say it's a bit overrated. Ravenclaw for me. Not to mention Hermione's almost for sure going to be sorted into Ravenclaw and I can't abandon my Watson," Harry replied.
I see. That loyalty's a very Hufflepuff trait, but I digress. You'll definitely find your place in RAVENCLAW!
The table to Harry's right exploded into cheers. The rest of the houses clapped politely while the Ravenclaws greeted the Boy-Who-Lived.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter. My name is Penelope Clearwater and I'm one of the two house prefects. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," a girl a few years older than him said formally, extending her hand. She had ink-black hair and bright blue eyes. She appeared a little anxious as did many people nearby.
"Thank you, Ms. Clearwater. You all have questions, I surmise?"
"Um… yes a few," Penelope said. A few people looked embarrassed but nodded.
"Very well, I will address your questions once my friend is sorted," Harry said, turning back just in time for Hermione to be sorted.
"RAVENCLAW!" Harry clapped hard as did Neville, who was sitting at the Gryffindor table.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw, Hermione!" Harry said, patting her on the back.
"Thank you, Harry. Making friends already?"
"Sort of. Our house has a few questions for me," Harry replied, turning back to his house, "First question?"
It was only ten minutes later and Harry had received approximately thirteen looks of sympathy and six hugs from nearby listeners including an awkward over-the-table hug from a girl who also was sorted in Ravenclaw. Harry vaguely recalled her name being Lisa Turpin. Apparently, Sherlock was definitely not a suitable parent in their eyes. They did, on the other hand, very much approve of John.
The feast lasted only a little longer before the old man at the center of the table stood and raised his hands in greeting.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself to our first years. I am Albus Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. I am the headmaster of this fine school. Now onto other matters, few beginning of the year notes before you're sent to your dormitories. The third-floor corridor is strictly off limits to those who do not wish to die a most painful death—"
"Sounds interesting," Harry whispered off handedly to Hermione. She swatted his arm.
"You're not getting me killed or expelled in my first week of school, Harry Potter!" she whispered back.
"Spoilsport," he grumbled.
"and the forbidden forest is, as the name implies, forbidden. A few parting words for you all to think on, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" The headmaster said.
Harry looked around at the older students. They seemed to have taken Dumbledore's strange words in stride and began to stand up and leave the Great Hall. Harry shrugged and followed his fellow students. After walking up what seemed like hundreds of staircases, everyone stopped in front of a plain wooden door without any handle or keyhole.
"In order to enter the dorm, one must answer a riddle. If you get the riddle wrong, you must wait for another to come and answer it," Penelope said.
"I can roar and eat like a lion, but if I drink I will most certainly die. What am I?"
"A fire," Penelope responded without a second thought. The door swung open, revealing a huge circular room with two stories. The first held a massive fireplace with black leather couches. behind the couches were wooden tables that could fit many people. To the right were twin staircases going upwards and to the left was a large room crammed floor to ceiling with books.
"To the right are your dormitories. First years are on the first floor with the girls being on the left and boys on the right. To your left is our library. It is tradition for a Ravenclaw to leave behind a piece of literature in the library once they have graduated. Feel free to peruse at your leisure but you must always return the texts. The consequences for stealing are severe," Penelope warned. Harry flinched at the suspicious look she seemed to be giving him then smiled innocently.
Many of Harry's fellow first years seemed drawn to the library. Harry certainly wanted to read as many as he could but a sudden bout of drowsiness, most likely from all the food, suddenly hit and he trudged up the stairs with a quick goodnight to Hermione, who appeared completely unaffected.
As the first one in the dorm, Harry claimed the bed closest to a large window overlooking the grounds. The torches that dotted the castle twinkled merrily. The view was beautiful. Harry drifted to sleep with visions of owls and wands dancing in his head. Those dreams would soon turn to nightmares.
It began with Harry sitting up. He looked around at his surroundings. He appeared to be on a hill over looking a forest. In the distance, the sun was rising just a little over the mountains, where the wind howled viciously. He knew he could not let the wind catch him. He jumped to his feet and sprinted down the hill towards the forest.
The trees engulfed him. The sunlight could no pierce the dense canopy of the tall pines. Everything was still for a moment. Then, the gale caught up with him. It tore at him with such force that he could barely keep himself up right. His hair was in a flurry and he began to breathe harder.
Two animal-like figures appeared in an opening. From what hair could make out through the strong wind they were canines.
"You must keep running!" They said in unison, both were male.
"I cannot outrun the wind forever!" Harry protested.
"No, you cannot," one said.
"But you do not need to wait forever. When you are ready, you will be able to face her," The other said.
"Who is she? When will I be ready?"
"You will know," They said in unison once more. The wind picked up, howling madly. Harry snapped his eyes shut and the wind blew him off his feet.
Harry sat up, breathing heavily. He felt like a ton of bricks fell into his stomach. After getting his breathing back under control, he emptied his mind and tried to sleep. The rest of his first night at Hogwarts was peaceful, and he would not remember much of the strange nightmare.
Hermione sat across from Harry who was rubbing his eyes and yawning.
"rough first night?" Hermione asked.
"Yeah. I think I had a nightmare," Harry replied.
"It's probably just pre-class jitters. I get them all the time," said Hermione. Harry nodded but frowned, a pensive look donning on his face. He never got jitters, ever. He'd been to murder scenes for God's sake. If he'd started to go soft that'd cause some problems.
For the rest of the morning, Harry felt unsure about the dream he had. The misplaced sense of dread remained firm in his mind.
"Dear me Mr. Holmes, I am a bit disappointed to find only John. Where's the boy?" Moriarty asked.
"Afraid he's not part of our game, at the moment," Sherlock replied cooly, trying to stall for time until he was able to get John out of the bomb jacket, "Any particular reason you waited so long to strike?"
"Pffft… it's obviously surely."
"Of course… you planned this from the beginning. You wanted us to get attached to the boy before swiftly striking him down," Sherlock explained.
"You bastard! If you touch one hair on Harry's head I'll rip you limb from limb!" John growled. Moriarty laughed.
"Puh-lease. You're not going to be doing anything unless I allow it."
"Why haven't you just killed us, already? It would've been easier," Sherlock asked.
"Well obviously I want the whole set! And trust me, I will get you three eventually. But for now, a warning. Back off, my dear. I have loved the long game, of course, but I am still a business man and you are bad for business, Mr. Holmes! My threat is either back off, or I will tear apart the world to find and flay your son alive. Am I understood?"
"Yes."
"Wonderful! I'll see you all real soon!"