Thank you all for reading, follows and favs and especially for the reviews, they always cheer me up so much :)

(lulu) Thanks, I'm glad. I'm afraid I cannot answer that - not because I want to keep it a secret, but because I have about three versions of the following events and I am still undecided what exactly will be used.

(Sarah) Yeah, I'm afraid this is not her last appearance. Glad you liked it.

(Man of Kent - Railwayman) Thank you! :)

(goanago) Goodness, so many reviews :) Thank you so much! I am glad you liked it so far :D And of course I can imagine that! Thankfully he has John to carry stuff for him. Hope you will like the later chapters too.

(SeverusDmitri18) I'm glad you do :)

CHAPTER 12

It was hard to sleep when yesterday's events were still buzzing around his head, so it was no wonder when John woke up early. He wasn't in any hurry to get up though and tried to get his breathing under control. Honestly, couldn't his brain find some better way to cope with all the magic, than some bloody nonsensical dreams?

He stayed in the bed, recalling everything that happened - okay, so he got where the dream came from, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing. Thankfully no one ever needed to know about it. Then he continued his reminiscence and unsurprisingly concluded that the evening was the only part of the day that had at least a semblance of normalcy.

As they returned home, they found out that Mrs Hudson had Mrs Turner over for tea and was just animatedly telling her about the newest client of the consulting detective.

They knew this because Sherlock barged into her flat, told her that they are home (as if she could have missed that) and informed her in his usual tactful fashion that she shouldn't bother entering their flat in the foreseeable future, because he will be going through sensitive and dangerous material and she will most likely mess it up and he will lock up the flat anyway, in case she will not heed his warning. Then he promptly disappeared upstairs, not minding the tutting Mrs Turner in the slightest. John had automatically apologised to both ladies for the interruption.

Mrs Hudson didn't mind it that much, but she wasn't very enthusiastic about the 'sensitive and dangerous material' Sherlock mentioned. She was most probably imagining horrid things, and so threatened John, who was supposed to relay the message to the detective, that there will be no more experiments, if the flat won't be in its current condition after he is finished with whatever he is going to do.

John didn't bother mentioning that Sherlock's stuff is just a pile of leather-bound tomes this time – it was better for them that she thought the detective bought a bag of organs rather than magical textbooks. He sighed when it dawned on him that the body parts were a far more believable choice than some books anyway.

After saying good-bye and reaching their flat, Sherlock slammed the door behind him and secured it against prying eyes of their landlady. Then he proceeded to sort his books with care that was a rare sight indeed, as he was usually very careless with everything short of a few lucky items. Well... when John said 'sort them' he didn't actually mean any kind of system that would be understandable to anyone but the detective...

When Sherlock was happy with his piles, he went to his bedroom and emerged in his pyjamas and gown, only to make himself comfortable on the sofa, pick the first book and start reading so rapidly that his eyes were almost a blur.

John just rolled his eyes and opened his laptop to check the blog. He still hadn't updated the case from... yesterday? He needed to make the mental calculation (twice) to be sure that yes, indeed it was only yesterday, that there was no magic around (okay it was, but they didn't know it). Well, it certainly felt like much longer...

He decided to start on it now, knowing that if he didn't, he will most probably forget about it in the avalanche of all that was currently happening. Besides he wouldn't be able to post anything from their newest adventure, so he should at least perfect this post, as it will probably be his last entry for a while.

Sometime in the middle of writing he took a break and made himself an evening snack. He offered to make a sandwich for Sherlock too, but the man only grunted, which John was sure meant 'shut up'. So he did... and left the detective hungry (not that it was such a big punishment for the man).

Later when he was sure the entry didn't have any mistakes that could be pointed out by Sherlock (he proofread it at least four times to be sure), he finally clicked on publish and decided that it was about time to go to bed. He dared to ask his friend if he was going to get some sleep, but like before, he shouldn't have bothered.

The detective told him that he needed to acquire data to deal with the newly discovered wizarding world and he shall be sleeping when all the gaps are filled. So John shrugged and left, not wanting to interfere with Sherlock's apparently cracked mind palace thingy - as a matter of fact, he counted it as a success that he wasn't just ignored and managed to get a real answer.

But soon John discovered that falling asleep wouldn't be so easy, and when he finally did, his dreams didn't let him forget about magic at all. He was chased around the Alley by goblins who were riding giant books that were breathing fire for some goddamn reason, while he was shouting that all he wanted was only one lousy broom. It was all narrated by Rita Skeeter to make it complete. Then he woke up and found himself in his current situation.

Still thinking about the madness that was his life (not that he was complaining, he was quite okay with it - except for the moronic dream), he decided that enough was enough and he should get ready for today's adventure.

He wasn't at all surprised when he finally entered the living room, to find the detective in the same position as he left him yesterday – with a different book of course.

John glimpsed the title and he was forced to admit that he had no idea how Magical Drafts and Potions would help Sherlock with the murder, but he wasn't going to ask. Now that he thought about it, not a single book Sherlock chose – maybe except for the Encyclopaedia of Toadstools which may be useful in some future case of poisoning – seemed to have anything to do with possible magical crimes.

Then he remembered Harry's prediction about Sherlock trying to crack all the answers to magic and suddenly the choice of books didn't seem all that weird. He was somewhat seeing a pattern in Sherlock's choice of books – and all pointed to the fact that his first attempt at dabbling will be in the field of potion making. The doctor noticed that three additional books dealing with the subject were lying open on the table – a lot of pages bookmarked and a few papers with notes scattered around them.

John glanced at his watch – and groaned. It was still terribly early. He decided that he should also read something, because otherwise he would drive himself mad with his own restlessness – besides he didn't have time to touch those books yesterday, as he decided to concentrate on his blog.

John didn't want to disrupt Sherlock's meticulously prepared columns, so he decided to take one of the two books that lay further from the rest. He guessed it was because the topic was history, not magical theory like the rest and so they got their own category. Though it was equally possible that Sherlock just dismissed them as unimportant and threw them aside, as he didn't plan to read them at all.

The doctor picked up Notable Magical names of Our Time thinking that he could at least find out who was important in wizarding society – who knew, there were bound to be important witches and wizards milling about their own Ministry, right?

His started to scan the name index, deciding which one sounded interesting enough for him to read about...

"What the –" he exclaimed loudly. Sherlock only grunted in response, not even tearing eyes from his own book. John didn't care though. He hurriedly opened the page that was next to the familiar name and read through the entry. It left him speechless. He then hurriedly proceeded to go through the entries about other people mentioned in the passage he just finished.

Okay, so maybe he briefly wondered about all the people that gathered around him in the bookshop, but this?! That was... he honestly didn't know if he should be horrified or absolutely stunned. "Oh God!" he exclaimed finally, as if he just now remembered what the wizard said. "He really did rob the bank. And escaped on a freaking dragon!"

That somehow got the detective's attention. "Hmm?" he pried his eyes from the potion book and peered at John.

The doctor didn't say anything, he just handed the book to his friend so he can look at it himself. Sherlock grabbed it and read it carefully. John waited patiently for him to finish, trying to notice how he took it – he didn't find out much, Sherlock kept his expression quite unreadable, though occasionally he glimpsed how his eyes widened just the tiniest bit... he wondered at which parts.

"That at least explains it," said the detective after he finished reading.

"What?!" exclaimed John not expecting him to shrug it off. "That's all you're going to say?"

"What else am I supposed to say?" asked Sherlock, looking at John curiously. "Didn't you see? A lot of people were staring at Harry in the Leaky Cauldron and then in the Alley too. Then of course there was the assistant in the bookshop. 'Anything for you Mr. Potter,' he said... and all the time he spent bowing. That's a little too much even for an attentive assistant, don't you think so? And then that reporter. I thought that she was hoping for a scoop on the Head of Auror Department, but this would be even better. Of course she didn't want to leave him alone – any story about him would sell. And I said before that he holds a high position in their society, but as I had no information about them, it escaped me just how high."

"Of course I noticed," bristled John. "But... all those things. Sherlock... He was a kid during most of it... hell, all of it. He was seventeen when he ended a war! And there were other children involved!"

"Yes," grimaced Sherlock, "it seems that I was mistaken. Maybe I should have let you to ask him about his school years. They don't seem as dull as I imagined."

"And that is what concerns you the most?!" questioned John with disbelief.

"We should either get a more detailed book or ask him about it," said the detective fingering the pages, not even listening to his friend. "A brief summary like this won't suffice at all. A lot of details are missing..."

"Sherlock!" cried the doctor.

"John?"

"Listen to me! Under no circumstances will you interrogate Harry about his childhood!" said the doctor resolutely, crossing his arms and daring the detective to protest. "You won't mention his parents, that Voldemort maniac, or his lackeys. You will not say any potentially hurtful comment that may cross your mind – even when you don't think it's hurtful – to provoke a reaction. He has the right to tell us when he wants... or not at all!"

"It was long time ago. And with all the attention he receives, he should be used to people asking him questions," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "And don't forget we are supposed to be integrated into their world. We have every right to find out. It will be for the best to just ask the source – and that's him!"

"Sherlock, not the point!" retorted John heatedly. "People close to him died, no matter how long time ago it was." Then his voice softened, "Look, he bought us those books," he pointed at the piles around them, suddenly remembering they probably should pay back for them. "He must know what's in them. He is definitely not trying to keep this secret from us. Just don't press him."

"Yet he talked about the bank robbery like it was a joke," Sherlock reminded him, not willing to back off. "That surely indicates he wouldn't mind a few questions."

"I occasionally say something that might sound daring and bold and even jesting about Afghanistan too," retorted John. "Trust me, it was anything but funny back then – the humour, it helps to cope. But it definitely is not an invitation to interrogate him about every horrid detail, Sherlock... especially with your usual tact." The detective still didn't look convinced, so the doctor tried to change the tactic. "Just please, don't make Harry hate you. He seems like a nice person and someone who can stand you. That's a rare trait – I'm sure you don't want to lose someone who might be – eventually – a friend. And stop making faces at me! It's not the end of the world to have more than five people that like you. Currently he is also your only link to wizarding world. If you screw this, you have also your access to magic to fear about. Try to remember that, at least."

There were a few moments of contemplative silence, which left John wondering just what exactly the consulting detective was thinking about. He didn't talk for a long time then suddenly he leaped from the couch. "Call the cab," he exclaimed as he marched to his room.

The doctor glanced at the time – suddenly it was time to go. He wondered if Sherlock took his speech to heart, but decided to take his silence as a good sign. After all, the detective would insist that he is right if he thought so, wouldn't he? Instead it seemed like he backed off... and John was very proud of his persuasive skills, indeed.

Well despite this being an important chapter as they finally find out, it's really not the best...
Oh... and the history book is totally an updated version... not the old one that Hermione read in her first year (and the texts are truthful, because I want them to be - and Harry wouldn't let them buy a book that has lies inside it)