"Sherlock! Please stop, just for a second!" Harry shouted at the man, who strode down the sidewalk. Harry jogged to catch up with him and tugged on his arm.

"Sherlock?"

It was almost as if some other force possessed him. His eyes stared straight, uncomprehending in nature. His gait was quick paced, but average. Eventually, the two found their way back to 221b Baker Street. Both glanced at the door. Harry frowned and Sherlock pressed his hand against it, pushing it open.

The door had been kicked in.

Harry followed Sherlock up the stairs, noting the scratch marks on the walls and signs of struggle on the steps. Harry felt tense. Sherlock appeared cool and calculating as ever. Finally, Sherlock and Harry entered their flat.

Mrs. Hudson sat in a chair, crying. A man with an earpiece held a gun to her head. Two other men stood on each side of her. Harry began immediately analyzing everything he could.

"Don't snivel Mrs. Hudson, it'll—" Sherlock began before Harry noticed the blood on the man's hand, followed by the cut on Mrs. Hudson's head. Harry sniffed hard and the two agents next to Mrs. Hudson flew to each side, one right through the window. The agent with the gun shouted in pain. The handle of the gun was red hot.

Sherlock noticed this and took advantage. He lunged forward, striking the agent's throat. A quick left jab followed by a haymaker brought felled the agent. Sherlock quickly put the man into a chokehold until the agent was no longer conscious.

"Very good, Harry. How on Earth did you manage all that without a wand?" Sherlock asked. Harry shrugged, looking just as unsure as Sherlock.

"I think it was just some accidental magic. Happens sometimes with wizards with high emotion situations. This one time I set a python on Dudley," Harry replied. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Just once, though," Harry restated, bashfully.

"What are we going to do with him and the other two agents?" Sherlock pondered aloud.

Sherlock whipped his phone out after securing the three agents. Two were knocked out, but the third was fully awake and glaring at Sherlock. Harry was one hundred percent sure that if they weren't totally tied up, the agent would've already killed Sherlock, and possibly Harry. That both enraged and scared him.

"Hello Lestrade. It appears we've had a break-in at 221b. Please send your least irritating officers and an ambulance."

…

"No, no… We're all okay. No, it's the invaders. One of them is badly injured." The agent was definitely in trouble.

…

"A few broken bones, a fractured jaw, and possibly a punctured lung," Sherlock said poisonously. Harry shivered. Hopefully the agent would recover from this.

…

"He fell out of a window," Sherlock said, then snapped his phone shut. He eyed down the conscious agent like he was fresh meat. The agent would almost certainly not recover from this.

"Go to your room and don't come out until I explicitly tell or text you," Sherlock said with icy calm. Harry nodded quickly and walked into his room. For the next hour, Harry heard very little. Once or twice he heard groaning and then the shattering of glass.

Soon, police sirens were heard, and Harry peeked out a crack in his door. No one was there. Harry wandered through the silent flat. Red and blue light flared against the blinds of the windows. Harry slipped on a pair of shoes and exited out onto the street. John and Sherlock were talking to Lestrade.

"Good to see you again, Harry. Though, I wish it was in better circumstances. You alright?" Lestrade asked, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Harry nodded and Sherlock huffed.

"He's perfectly fine Lestrade. Why, Harry was a big help in dealing with these criminals, right Harry?" Sherlock asked. Harry nodded warily.

"How so?" Lestrade asked.

"Why, Harry threw one of them out the window!" Sherlock exclaimed, smirking. Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"I didn't know you were capable of jokes."

"I don't think he is," John said, eyeing Sherlock. All three agents were arrested. Harry, Sherlock and John sat down in the living room a little bit later.

"What the bloody Hell did you mean when you said Harry threw one of them out the window?" John asked tiredly. It had, after all, been a long day for him. Suddenly, their fireplace flared and Professor Dumbledore emerged.

"I believe I can answer that, Mr. Watson," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. John stared uncomprehendingly for a moment at the man before sighing gestured for Dumbledore to continue.

"Oh go on."

"Thank you, Mr. Watson. I'm actually here to erase the memories of those three agents, but I suppose it couldn't hurt to have a talk with you all. I'm also supposed to talk to you about Harry witnessing the death of Professor Quirrell so I expect I can kill two birds with one stone—"

"Pardon me?" John asked. Harry blushed.

"Yes. Did Harry neglect to tell you that he witnessed his Professor's bloody, horrific death?"

"Yes. Yes he did," John said through gritted teeth.

"Ah. Apologies for springing this on you, then. You see, Lord Voldemort possessed one of our staff, Quirinus Quirrell. He attempted to steal something very valuable and unfortunately met his end when our guard dog mauled him quite gruesomely. Do you wish to lodge a complaint against the school with the board of governers?" Dumbledore asked formally. John shook his head.

"Excellent. Now, back to what you asked. Harry actually did throw one of those agents through a window. This was done through accidental magic. This is when a novice wizard loses control of their emotions, causing magical mayhem in their wake. It should go away within the next year or so, as long as Harry continues his magical education," Dumbledore said brightly.

"Is that all?" John asked.

"That is all I can tell you at the moment. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be finding those agents," Dumbledore said absentmindedly. After watching Dumbledore exit the room, John and Sherlock turned on Harry. Sherlock appeared curious and John exasperated.

"How could you not tell us about this?" John nearly shouted. Harry flinched then rolled his eyes.

"I was kind of busy at the time! I mean, since when did Sherlock ever think of anyone romantically?"

"Excuse me—" Sherlock said before John cut him off.

"Sherlock's love life is not an excuse!"

"If it was anyone else's, it wouldn't be! Besides, we were fine and the only one who was eaten was Quirrell!" Harry replied. John groaned.

"I swear to God… both of you make me miss Afghanistan," John slumped in his chair. Sherlock smirked.

"This all sounds very interesting. It appears Voldemort is truly not dead. We'll have to fix that," Sherlock commented. Harry looked curiously at him.

"How are we going to do that?"

"It's simple, we must do research."

Sherlock, John, and Harry went down to Diagon Alley the next day. After talking to a few store clerks, they learned very quickly that anything related to living past death was considered quite dark. Apparently, they'd have to go to Nocturne Alley to find anything at all.

After John sprained a wizard's wrist who grabbed Harry by the shoulder, Sherlock led them into a dingy book store in the corner of a darkened square. A damaged bell rung and an older looking man stepped from behind the shelves.

The man was tall, at least 6'2. His jaw was sharp and his chin was pointed. The man's black hair had dashes of grey near his ears.

"How may I help you, Mr. Potter and others?" the man rumbled. His eyes darted between the three of them, glittering yellow. Harry shivered.

"We want to know how to achieve immortality. We're asking for a… friend," Sherlock said.

"I'm sure you are. There are quite a few ways to theoretically achieve immortality. Allow me to show you my collection," the man said. After about five minutes, the man brought out three tomes that were thicker than Harry's head.

"We'll take the lot," Sherlock said, smiling.

For the last few days of winter break, Sherlock, Harry, and John researched through the tomes, one per person. Sherlock was halfway through his when Harry had to return to school.

"Can't he stay until we find out what is causing Voldemort to stay alive?" Sherlock said as Harry boarded the train. John swatted his arm.

"No. Now Harry, since you aren't being pursued by a maniac—"

"other than Moriarty."

"yes, other than Moriarty, I want you study hard!" John said to Harry, who was leaning out the window.

"Yes sir!" Harry said, smiling. He gave John a salute, which was returned.

"Hello Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson," Hermione said, peeping from behind Harry.

"Hello Hermione. Did you have a good winter break?" John said, shaking her hand. It was a bit awkward since she was leaning out the window.

"Oh it was marvelous! We went to France and ice skated! Mummy and Daddy should tell you all about it," Hermione said, grinning brilliantly.

"I'll be sure to take them up on that offer," Sherlock said dryly. John elbowed him and Sherlock scowled. The steam engine whistled and the brakes hissed. The Hogwarts Express was beginning to move.

"Have a good term! Try not to get attacked by dark wizards!" Sherlock called, waving. John also waved.

Once Sherlock and John were out of sight, Harry sat back in his seat. Hermione smiled at him.

"Have a good Christmas?" she asked. He nodded.

"Sherlock's girlfriend faked her death," he said casually. Hermione blinked and was silent for a moment.

"Sherlock has a girlfriend?"

Since Professor Quirrell was unceremoniously devoured by Fluffy the giant three-headed dog, a new professor was assigned to the post until the end of the semester. He was a shabby looking man, but appeared friendly enough. Harry could have sworn the man stared straight at him when he gazed at the student body during the feast that night, if only for a tad longer than anyone else. Then again, Harry did like to think the world revolved around him.

"Hopefully this one isn't possessed by Voldemort," Harry said to Hermione after Dumbledore introduced him.

"One can only hope," Hermione replied.

The next morning signaled the first day back, which meant classes began once more. Harry felt reinvigorated and for once this year, his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was actually interesting. Of course, that wasn't his first thought when entering the classroom. His first thought was a light wind could blow this man over.

"Good morning class. My name is Professor Remus Lupin. I will be filling in the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position until the end of the year, at least. After reviewing your first semester, which if I am not mistaken was minor defensive spells, I believe this term we will be discussing dark creatures, including hags, doxies, and imps. Let's begin, shall we?"

Professor Lupin unveiled a cage that held a fat looking creature. It blinked curiously at the students and grinned, revealing it's razor-sharp teeth.

"Can anyone tell me what this is?"

"An imp, sir. They're creatures that are known for surprising strength and viciousness. In large mobs, they can cause mayhem. They originate in Ireland and England," Hermione called.

"Correct Ms. Granger. Five points to Ravenclaw. Does anyone know how to defend against them?" Harry raised his hand.

"Mr. Potter?"

"You need to use the knock-back jinx to stun it, right?" Harry said.

"Correct, Mr. Potter. Imps can be nasty buggers and it is true that they have immense strength for their size. Now, what we are going to do is practice the knock-back jinx on this little fellow here. Whoever can hit it accurately will win ten points for their house. You have three chances, each," Professor Lupin said, smiling.

He flicked his wand and the desks created a sort of ring about 20 feet in diameter. A line formed outside the desks with Professor Lupin sitting on a chair at the entrance of the newly formed ring. Everyone lined up and began taking their turns. The imp didn't look very fast, but by God it was quick. It sneered and cackled every time someone missed. It made faces and rude gestures that had many of the class snickering. Hermione stepped out of the ring, frustrated. Harry was the last one.

"Let's see what you can do, Mr. Potter."

The imp stood at the far end of the ring. Harry took a few steps forward. The imp was bouncing on the balls of its feet, ready to make a move. Cautiously, Harry took his wand out and pointed as quickly as he could.

"Flippendo!" A red bolt of energy shout of his wand and his the ground where the imp was standing just seconds before. It was now to Harry's right. Harry spun on his heel and pointed once more.

"Flippendo!" he shouted once more. Once again, the imp was out of the way just in time. It stuck its tongue out at Harry, which made him red. He DID NOT like being made a fool of.

Harry stopped and took a deep breath. The imp relied on reaction, and likely would not deal well with a counter reaction. Perhaps, if Harry was quick enough, he could fake a shot then hit it for real. This was his last chance. He'd have to get closer.

Harry walked towards the creature. It bounced continuously, taking a few nervous steps back. Harry leveled his wand at the creature. It sneered in anticipation, ready to make a fool of Harry once more.

"Flip—!" he shouted. The imp moved and Harry kept his wand pointed directly at it.

"Flippendo!" he cried. The imp tried to stop and change direction, but it was too fast. The bolt hit it directly in the forehead, sending the creature spinning. Harry got it!

"Well done, Mr. Potter! Well done! Way to think quick on your feet. 10 points to Ravenclaw!" Professor Lupin said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, grinning at the dazed imp.

"Please see me after class, Mr. Potter. I'd like to talk to you about something important," Professor Lupin said. With a flick of his wand the class was back in order. The rest of the period was taken up with notes that while a bit tedious, was infinitely better than Quirrell, who was a forgotten memory.