Chapter Seven
Destiny's Path
Lestrade was the only person who was thoroughly enjoying the sweets he'd bought. Sherlock automatically ignored the cauldron cakes he was thrown and placed them on the shelf connected to the window. Molly secretly nibbled on a pumpkin pasty, and she ripped off a piece so Tasha could smell it. Lestrade's remark had sent a never‒ending silence through their cart, and Sherlock told no one of what was carved on the apple's gleaming surface.
"Sorry…" Molly said shakily, interrupting the quiet, "what time is it?"
Lestrade was the first to read out the request. John vaguely glanced at his watch but didn't announce the numbers to everyone. "It's 12:53," Greg indicated, leaving a fingerprint on his sterling silver watch face. He reached behind his head to grab another treat, commenting, "These are really good."
"Jesus!" John screamed, making Sherlock jump and distracting him from his mind palace. He'd pulled the string on a rectangular‒shaped golden box, and when he removed the lid what was inside had launched itself out of the container. The bewitched treat hopped around the compartment, making strange noises until Lestrade stomped on it with his shoe, flattening the chocolate.
"What the hell was that?" John exclaimed. He'd crushed a corner of the box when the sweet had somehow jumped out of its shield. Lestrade gritted his teeth as he slowly peeled his foot from the floor, dreading what mess would lie underneath.
"That," Sherlock started, leaning forward to get a closer look at the gold and blue box, "was a Chocolate Frog."
"But, it…moved! How can a chocolate treat move?" Watson looked both puzzled and shocked, pointing at Lestrade's slow motion moving foot and glimpsing the mushed candy under the sole of his foot.
"It's magic, John," Sherlock pointed out rather dryly. "What did you expect? You have to expect a lot of things to move that shouldn't when we get to Hogwarts." Lestrade finally tipped his foot onto its side, revealing a flattened chunk of chocolate stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
"Well, that's attractive," he grumpily remarked, pushing himself up onto his hands and trying not to put his dirty shoe sole on the carpet. John went back to examining the Chocolate Frog box, pulling from the inside a thin card that was the same shape as the container. The card was almost like a hand, and the box was a glove protecting it.
John picked up the chromatic cardboard and in the center of it a window revealed the figure of a man. John tilted the card left and right, hypnotized by the fact that the man in the card looked 3D, just as a miniature version. Feeling peculiar, John elongated his fingers and tried to wrap them around the figure, but it really was just a flat card. His fingers weren't able to penetrate through the surface, and instead they were blocked by the border that made the collector's card flat.
The gold stars on the border stood out against the brilliant blue background, and the man standing in the frame smiled up at him. The name under the wooden border was written in white script, reading Bowman Wright. Before opening his mouth to ask who it was, John's question was answered when he turned the card over and skimmed over the description.
"A skilled metal‒charmer, Bowman Wright of Godric's Hollow is credited with the invention of the Golden Snitch."
"So, do people collect these or something?" John showed Sherlock the wizard card, and Holmes smiled when he read the name.
"Oh yeah. Mycroft's got a whole bunch at home. He's given me some of the duplicates he's gotten over the years. There are hundreds of these things." He looked the card up and down, turning it over in his hands and reading the text repeatedly. "Funny you got that card." Sherlock seemed amused, handing it back over to John.
"Why?"
"Because you'd be good at Quidditch. I've told you that before." John shrugged, staring back down at Bowman Wright. He recalled the day Sherlock had explained the wizard sport to him; there were a lot of rules involved, but the object of the game was remarkably simple.
"I thought you said first years couldn't play…" John brought the thought to his mind.
"Well, that's not entirely true. It is just highly unlikely that they'd have the opportunity to make the team."
"Sorry about your frog, John," Lestrade apologized, cleaning off the bottom of his sneaker with a spare napkin. "Kinda crushed it a little too hard…"
John chuckled, watching Greg struggle with the mushed chocolate on his shoes. "It's alright," he assured the taller boy. "I don't think I'll want to eat one for a while now, especially after it nearly gave me a heart attack."
They still had several hours left of their journey on the train, which was spent mostly with Sherlock entertaining them all with little bits of magic he'd spark from his wand. Molly got up the courage to teach the boys a card game she'd learned at an early age, but that didn't go down too well as the curly‒haired brunette pointed out rules that weren't accurate or fair. Sherlock even eventually began to munch on some of the sweets Lestrade had bought, and John grinned at him as he fed Athiel through the bars of her cage.
Finally, when John's watch read 18:43, Molly suggested that they change into their school robes. So, each of the four friends retrieved their trunks from the racks above and slipped on their Hogwarts uniforms, boys dressed in pants and the lone girl in a short, grey skirt with vertical folds around the fabric.
Sherlock was placing his trunk back on the shelf just below the ceiling when he heard Molly let out a shriek from the window. She pointed and stared, wide‒eyed, her face lit up with joy.
"What?" Lestrade was just as curious to know what she'd had a row about, and when he reached the window he was able to speak before the discoverer could.
"It's Hogwarts!" he grinned, not as broad as his first one however. "Way out in the distance. Blimey, it's barely visible above the treetops from here. I reckon we'll be there in about ten minutes."
They sat back down, anxiously waiting for the train to gently press on the brakes and come to a crawling stop. Molly was the most excited of them all; the boys noticed that she was showing more emotion in that moment than anyone had on the entire trip, except for when John had nearly jumped on Jim. She wouldn't sit still. She patted her fingers on her thighs and Sherlock could tell that she was both frantic and nervous. Hooper was practically bouncing up and down in her seat and Greg ultimately had to nudge her on the arm to snap her out of the distraction she caused.
After what seemed like years, the train gave a sudden lurch and the wheels squeaked as they rubbed against the steel track. The mode of transportation's speed decreased steadily and through the darkness Sherlock and Molly could see some sort of station ahead. It was difficult to see crystal clearly because the engine had started billowing out steam from its underside.
The train came to a crawl and soon inched its way forward, coming to a stop next to a wide platform lit by the moonlight. Lestrade slammed his hands on his knees, standing up swiftly and brushing off his robes.
"Well, let's go you three," he beckoned, sliding the door open and standing back for the others to pass by. Dozens of students poured out from the compartments and Sherlock could undoubtedly tell which kids were first years. The abashed looks on their faces expressed their confusion, and some stood around, glancing in all directions.
An older student appeared at the end of the cart, making enthusiastic gestures with his hands and shouting at the top of his lungs. "First years, leave all your belongings on the train. Just make your way onto the platform quickly please!" Molly apprehensively led the way, following the other students off the train. The four friends filed out onto the platform, stumbling as they lunged to reach the step several feet away.
All around, hundreds of kids and teenagers were spilling out onto the platform in the petite train station. Sherlock looked around for a glimpse of Mycroft, but he was nowhere to be found over the heads in the crowd. There were two crossing signs at the end of the podium, and the one more viewable title read Hogsmeade Station.
And then a loud booming voice echoed across the platform, startling the four friends but only making the two shorter kids John and Molly jump. Whoever was yelling wasn't speaking proper English though, considering they left out certain letters and sounds when they spoke. They also seemed to grunt after every sentence.
"First ye'rs this way!" The voice came from their left and when John turned to look, he could see a lantern about the same size of his skull floating before someone. Sherlock nodded his head towards the other three, indicating they should make their way to the end of the platform.
When they got in better viewing distance, John noticed that a man with a scraggly beard had his hand with a firm grip on the lantern handle. But when he focused his eyes against the blackness, he realized that it wasn't a man at all. He was over eleven feet tall and almost as wide as four John's put together. His long, black hair was a tangled mess with knots in it everywhere, and he wore a long brown overcoat with several patches in the fabric.
A pink umbrella was swung over his left shoulder, and he stared down at all the first years with beady black eyes. Molly went back to looking frightened and Lestrade looked like someone had smacked him across the face. Mycroft had told Sherlock about the staff members and professors at Hogwarts. He even knew that the Defense Against the Dark Arts post was supposedly rigged; that no one had been on the job for more than a year at a time. Sherlock decided to explain to the petrified students that the giant was harmless by starting a conversation.
"Hello Hagrid!" Sherlock waved and the giant searched the crowd, wondering who could've intervened between the pounding of hundreds of footsteps on the pavement.
"Hey th're, Sh'rlock!" The brunette wasn't surprised by the fact that the half‒giant already knew his name. Mycroft blabbed about everything to any pair of ears that would listen, so half the school knew Mycroft Holmes had a younger sibling. "Be'n wond'rin' when I'd get ter see yeh." He scanned the faces of John, Lestrade, and Molly, then turned back to face the small crowd that was gathered together, figuring he'd be introduced to the newcomers properly later.
"Right you lot, follow me this way." He waved his massive hand and the mob of first years followed behind the monstrous man. All the other older students had disappeared to head up to the castle and the four friends stayed close together as they walked along the pathway.
The group came to the edge of a lake, surrounded by spooky trees creating a forest. "Right," Hagrid began, pointing a finger at wooden boats tied to the shore. "Four per boat, no more. Chop chop!" Lestrade snagged a boat for the four of them on the end of the row and held it still as Molly scrambled into the rocking seat.
When everyone was situated in the vehicles, Hagrid waved his pink umbrella in the air and the ropes binding the boats wove their way onto the bases on the wooden rafts. As if invisible propellers were attached to back of the boats, they began to swim through the lake, leaving ripples in the water as they went.
The boats turned the corner and a magnificent view greeted their eyes. The striking castle was lit up with hundreds of different shaped windows, giving it a luminous glow. The moon shone brightly over the tallest tower, leaving a silver streak across the slanted brick roofs. Molly and John had their mouths agape, sitting next to each other in the front of the boat. The school grew larger as the boats became closer to the far shore, the walls towering over their tiny bodies.
The grey stone felt cool and smooth on the blond's hands. Sherlock, John, Lestrade, and Molly stood waiting among the crowd of first years on a staircase in front of two immense oak doors. One of them suddenly opened, and a tall witch in emerald green robes and a matching pointy hat emerged from behind the barrier. It closed with a deafening echo through the school walls, and the woman approached the students with great speed.
"Welcome to Hogwarts." Her lips were pursed in a thin line and her glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, making her look much older than she actually was. Everyone's attention was focused on the professor, but she beamed at them as if she'd given the speech thousands of times before.
"Welcome," she repeated. "Now, very soon, all of you will pass through these doors to join the rest of the school. But before the feast begins, you must be sorted into one of the four houses. They're Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." John shifted nervously on his feet and Sherlock couldn't help but squeeze his friend's wrist.
"Now while you're here, you will consider your houses to be like your families." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You will compete for house points. House points will be given to those who are intelligent students that answer questions or make outstanding achievements, and they shall be taken away for rule breaking scenarios. At the end of the year, the house with the most house points will be awarded the House Cup." There was a soft murmur of eagerness spreading through the crowd, but the professor got their attention back easily.
"My name is Professor McGonagall. I am both the head of Gryffindor house and the deputy headmistress here at Hogwarts. I shall inform the headmaster that we are ready for you." She pivoted on her heel and as she approached the dining hall the left oak door opened on its own for her.
"How long is this going to take?" John whispered, nudging Sherlock with his elbow.
"Depends. The quicker people step up to get sorted, the faster the process will be over."
"So, what house do you think you'll be sorted into?" A sneer was heard over Lestrade's shoulder and they all turned to glare at Jim Moriarty. The slim girl was leaning on the staircase railing next to him, her red fingernails inches from Jim's. He gave Watson an evil grin and addressed the tallest boy, who he seemed mildly interested in. "Since you're a Pureblood, I imagine you'll get placed in Slytherin."
"And who the hell are you?" Lestrade acted like he was greeting a camel, totally lost but knowing this boy was trouble.
"Don't get on his bad side," Molly warned, only speaking in his ear so no one else could decipher her warning.
"Why don't you shut up and mind your own business?" John snapped, rolling his flaming eyes and turning away.
"Touchy are we?" Jim taunted, crossing his arms and waiting for a reply to his unanswered question.
"I think I can manage with dealing with my enemies by myself thanks," Sherlock indicated the well‒groomed first year. "Don't bring my friends in just to try and be tough or attract attention." Moriarty was silenced as the doors to the Great Hall opened once more.
"We're ready for you," Professor McGonagall informed the students, and they automatically followed her to the doors leading into the feasting room. They swung open on their hinges and the light from inside the trapped room poured out onto the first years as their steps led them into the large, open space.
John was glad he'd read Hogwarts: A History in that moment, because if he hadn't his mind probably would have gone insane from the endless number of bewitched items scattered throughout the Great Hall. Hundreds of cream colored candles blazed brightly, their tiny fires flickering above four long house tables. They floated carelessly in the air above the hall, illuminating the room from the high ceiling to the hidden corners. The second through seventh years sat at their proper house tables, all dressed in matching black robes with their house crest sewn to the front, blaring different pairs of colors.
A long staff table was spread at the opposite side of the hall, the wood shining and sitting on a raised platform above all the scanning faces. John spotted Hagrid entering through a wide door in the far left of the hall, taking a seat in an oversized chair next to a very dreamy looking witch.
Sherlock nudged John on the upper arm, and he acknowledged his head to the ceiling. When the younger kid looked up, he didn't even think there was a roof at first, but then he remembered a fact from the book; for the room cover had been bewitched to mimic the night sky outside, and dozens of twinkling stars stood out amidst the swirl of black and blue. On the two longer sides of the hall were two monstrous fireplaces built into the walls, wider than a pickup truck and taller than a stack of twin bunk beds.
John and Sherlock walked side by side, Molly and Lestrade behind them, spying the various faces that watched them intently as they made their way towards the staff table. Professor McGonagall was in the lead, holding a scroll of parchment in her left hand and walking with her head stationed at one flat level. She made her way up the steps on the polished wood stage and made the students halt on the floor before a four legged stool. Sitting on top of the chair was a very old, patched, and tattered hat. Sherlock could tell that all eyes were focused on the stool, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a cool breeze was blown past over the students while the rear of the group filed in. Professor McGonagall stepped back from the chair, leaving the staff with a clear view of the beat up wizard hat.
And then, to the first years' great amusement, the hat came to life and the wrinkles on the fabric molded to become the outline of eyes and the rim of a mouth. The hat shook the point of its top, patches flapping, and burst out into a song for all to listen.
"It all began long ago,
Four founders and a plan,
To bring young wizards together,
And perform the magic they can.
They stitched me up to do the job,
Sorting children into their clans,
So all houses were equal in students,
And thus Hogwarts school began.
It might be your call where you might belong,
Just put me on to learn your fate,
For I have never been openly wrong,
So know the path that you must take.
In Gryffindor is where you might settle,
The brave and daring do dwell,
Those lions are always true at heart,
So this house might suit you well.
Or perhaps in loyal Hufflepuff,
Where hard‒workers are placed,
Those badgers may not be popular,
But they sure won't be a waste.
In the house of wise Ravenclaw,
You might find your mind,
Those eagles sure are clever,
You'll truly find them kind.
Or perhaps in Slytherin,
Those Purebloods tend to be,
Cunning to reach a goal,
Their eyes are set to see.
So here you are to find out now,
Where you ought to be,
Don't worry, I've never misjudged,
And that you'll surely see."
Molly exited her nervous stage for a few minutes, listening to the hat's song with Lestrade off to the left side of the hall. They stood between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin house tables, taking in every note and tale the accessory gave them. Lestrade caught her eye and she gave him her precious smile. Sherlock and John stood a few meters away, clumped in the center of the huddle together and whispering about the school so no one could hear.
The hat concluded its song and the hall burst out into a marvelous applause. The rhythm expressed information about the history of the school summed up in less than two minutes, mentioning the four founders of Hogwarts and their idea of forming the wizarding school. John gave Sherlock an eyebrow and the older boy was forced to clap along with everyone else.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward before the first years, unrolling the scroll of parchment in her hands and pushing her glasses farther back on her nose. "Now…" she addressed the kids once more, emptying her throat to give her short spiel.
Some of the girls on the end of the row had become rigid in complete fear, and others were shifting back and forth on the balls of their feet. "When I call your name, you will come up to the platform, I will place the Sorting Hat on your head, and it will sort you in the house it thinks suits you best." Several students nodded, understanding while a few others in the middle of the pack murmured incomprehensible words.
The head of Gryffindor house read the first name on the list, starting in alphabetical order by last name. "Abord, Darren." A very short boy with blazing red hair and tons of freckles shakily stepped up to the stool. He glanced heavily at the professor and she nodded for him to sit on the stool. He sat before the entire hall, and Professor McGonagall slowly lowered the hat onto the boy's head. The rim fell all the way over half his face and his shoulders tensed up as his eyes were blinded by darkness.
The boy sat trembling uncontrollably on the seat and everyone waited for the moment when the hat would sort Darren into his acceptable category. After several long, muted minutes the hat opened its brim, and its bold voice echoed throughout the dining hall to sort the first student.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" The tension in the boy's veins loosened as the Great Hall erupted into shouts. The first years clapped and watched the terrified kid make his way through the mass of students towards the Hufflepuff table.
Professor McGonagall continued to read off the names of the students, and one by one, the fidgety novices filed out from the small crowd. Seconds later they vanished under the wizard accessory, and the Sorting Hat shouted the different houses to the Great Hall.
A very peculiar incident happened however when Professor McGonagall announced a name from the list of 'B's.' "Brook, Richard." No one stepped forward. People peered over the heads of the first years, trying to get a better look at what was going on. A bunch of the staff members spied on the children situated before their eyes, expecting a student to step in front of the school, but still no one converged to be sorted. Professor McGonagall repeated the name, slightly louder the second time to make sure the boy hadn't just dozed off and missed the cue of his name. The professor shifted awkwardly on her feet. Then she concluded to the hall when the blankness got out of hand. "Well, if Richard Brook refuses to step forward, so be it. We shall move on."
The sorting ceremony carried on shortly afterwards, and John's stomach became more cramped with every name called. Since the students were sorted in alphabetical order by last name, the blond knew he would be one of the last first years remaining at the front of the dining room.
The girl who more so resembled a woman was sorted before the catastrophe with Richard Brook, so Sherlock, John, Molly, and Lestrade discovered that her name was Irene Adler. They could hear several people whisper behind their backs that she was dressed way too fancy under her robes, and she was all prissy when the hat had to be placed on her head, messing up her wild curls.
Before the hat had even touched her eyelashes, it opened its mouth and shouted "SLYTHERIN!" to the hall, sending a wave of roaring, intense cheers to bounce off the walls. Irene took her time descending from the platform, making sure she wouldn't trip on her high heels.
Sherlock only really paid attention to a few people who were sorted. A rather serious looking and sullen faced boy named Phillip Anderson with flat, black hair was sorted into Hufflepuff also, and he showed not the slightest hint of excitement in his face while heading over to join his new housemates.
And then there was a girl named Sally Donovan who got sorted not far after the Richard Brook case. She had a darker skin tone than most of the students and very curly and frizzy hair, which stood out a good six inches from her head. She had hard, brown eyes that could give you a death stare, and when she approached the stool she acted like the world revolved around her. The hat took a long time deciding with her, but eventually she was placed into, "GRYFFINDOR!"
"God, I hope they hurry up," Molly heard Lestrade complain, his stomach rumbling loudly. "I'm bloody hungry." She giggled to herself when all Greg could think about was food. Holmes dozed off for a while, scanning the staff table and making deductions about the teachers until John punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"You're going to be called soon. They just entered the 'H's'." Sherlock muttered his thanks to his friend and Watson returned the favor with a smile. He kept his ears open for his name to be called, and there were at least ten more before he heard his title ringing in his ears.
"Holmes, Sherlock."
Before being all alone, John felt another squeeze in his left wrist, and Sherlock winked as the crowd pulled aside for him. He approached the stool from near the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables. Despite being one of the tallest of the eleven‒year‒olds, the hat still fell over his eyes.
The Sorting Hat didn't twitch on the top of his head, but he heard a whispering voice communicating with him through his brain. "Hmm…" it croaked in his ear, "you're difficult, you are."
Don't you dare say I'm as complicated as my brother, Sherlock warned, trying to maintain his composure and not show the sneer tugging at the corner of his mouth to the hall. People would judge him on the spot.
"Well, I see a lot in you. Very intelligent and wise, willing to learn. Frequently solitary, focused on your own life and staying out of others' problems; you do tend to remain concentrated on yourself most of the time. Yet there's loyalty in you. I can see you'd do whatever it takes to defend your friends, even though you may not know it."
I don't have friends…Well, there was an exception. The only friend Sherlock had in the world was…
John Watson.
"There's bravery about you too. You're not afraid of anything or afraid to do something. You're cunning as well, ambitious in reaching goals in life…"
But I don't care for power, Sherlock pointed out. He wanted nothing to do with being on top of the world or becoming the Minister of Magic like Mycroft.
"You could fit in a number of places…" Sherlock was starting to get annoyed. Through the thick fabric of the hat he could hear the older students beginning to whisper, which meant the hat was taking its sweet old time deciding where to place him.
"But I think there's one thing that stands out most in you. That sets you apart from the rest…"
"So, you must belong in…"
"RAVENCLAW!" Sherlock nearly threw the hat off his head he was so relieved it was over; not because of the butterflies in his stomach, but because he no longer had all eyes locked on him. The curly brunette, being taller than the remaining first years, looked over the crowd and caught John's eye, who gave him a thumbs up. He felt a number of hands slap his back as he sat down at the Ravenclaw table, no doubt the older students congratulating him.
The next of the three friends to be sorted was the single female. Her face looked absolutely mortified when Professor McGonagall called, "Hooper, Molly." Her knees were shaking so much that as a result the ginger almost tripped over the top step. She fiddled with her hands as the hat whispered in her ear, and John could tell that she wished it was over sooner than it was.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat announced to the hall, and Molly hastily darted from the stool, heading to the far right of the hall for her table where the entire house stood cheering. She took her seat next to the first boy sorted, who gladly shook her hand. Molly wiped the sweat off her forehead, thankful the nerve‒wrecking process was over.
John pushed his way past a few eleven‒year‒olds in the crowd to stand with Lestrade. The taller boy's stomach grumbled again, and he clutched it tightly so it wouldn't attract too much attention.
Another boy that particularly stood out was a boy named Henry Knight. He had the largest ears John had ever seen for an eleven‒year‒old. The tops of them were quite round and they stuck out from his head a good few centimeters; they ended up folding over from the weight of the hat's rim because they stuck out so much. Almost directly after it settled on his head, the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" Lestrade knew he would soon be called and sorted, so when Professor McGonagall introduced his name to the audience, Greg took the opportunity to show off and swagger up onto the stage. Several Slytherin fifth year girls giggled behind John's back, and he couldn't help but snort at their obnoxious behavior.
The Sorting Hat's decision flew like a bullet from its mouth, with no hesitation of placing Lestrade in, "GRYFFINDOR!" John clapped loudly for him, hoping the Sorting Hat would make an easy choice with himself as well.
The frown on John's face deepened as Jim Moriarty's name was called. His navy blue suit was still visible under his school uniform, and John's fingers itched to curl into a fist and give the little twit what he deserved. Professor McGonagall let the hat graze the silkiness of Jim's slicked back hair, and just as quickly as the hat had announced Lestrade's house it opened its brim to undoubtedly shout, "SLYTHERIN!"
The roar of vicious cheers erupted again, and even Mycroft couldn't help but lousily clap along with the rest of the Slytherin students. Sherlock peered over the crowd at John, whose head was barely visible among the other blonde‒haired kids, just to make sure his temper wasn't rising again.
John blushed in his cheeks as a pretty girl walked by him after Moriarty was sorted. Her face resembled a doe and she had big blue eyes that were lighter than his own. Her short blonde hair was well groomed, lying flat against her head with a bushy look. Her name, John found out, was Mary Morstan. The hat had a bit of a challenge with her, but nobody could beat Sherlock's sorting debate with the hat. Her stunning eyes emerged from under the hat after the Gryffindor table showed their appreciation enthusiastically once more.
Slowly and steadily, one by one, the students were sorted and went to join their housemates who welcomed them with cheers and shouts of excitement. Professor McGonagall read the names, her finger tracing down the parchment, narrowing down the list and getting farther into the alphabet. When the teacher reached the last names beginning with 'W', the lurching in John's stomach was uncontrollable and he felt like her would get sick at any moment. Only one person had a last name starting with the similar letter before him, and he shifted on his All Stars nervously.
"Watson, John."
John exhaled a deep breath, feeling like this was a test or something. He got a frightening glance of the staring audience before the felt brushed against his hair and the darkness took over his eyes, excluding him from the rest of the humans in the room.
What John didn't expect was for the hat to start speaking in his mind, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when the deep voice entered his thoughts with permission or an invitation.
"Where shall I put you?" John gripped his hands on his knees, knowing his knuckles were turning white. He didn't know whether to respond or not. The only action he performed was thinking about the one thing he hoped for.
Just please don't be Slytherin…Anything but Slytherin.
"Really?" The hat teased. "Well, I see great bravery in you. You have a true heart, being a boy who is begging for an adventure; yet there's loyalty as well. For your heart can love more than you think, and you'll do anything to keep those you love close to you and safe under your protection. No small amount of courage will come from you."
John tried to picture what house the hat was trying to place him in, reckoning it was a tie between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. His fingers tapped on his thighs as he anxiously waited for an answer but dreaded the moment it came at the same time.
"Well, then it must be…"
"GRYFFINDOR!" The smile on John's face was so wide he felt his cheeks contracting and being forced into a smaller space than was allowed. His sparkling blue eyes were revealed to the Great Hall again, and the mass of scarlet and gold greeted him as he reached the table belonging to the lions. He raced down the aisle in between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, keeping an eye out for Sherlock's curly hair and Lestrade's figure on a nearby bench.
There he was, his cheekbones standing out on his beaming face, clapping along with all the other students and staff members. His black robes were pulled over the seat next to him and Sherlock nodded his head at the free chair behind his spot at Watson's house table. Several people shook John's hand, welcoming the newbie to Gryffindor house. Holmes waited patiently for everyone to settle down again before giving his best friend his congratulations.
"Told you," he smirked, showing off his pestering skills.
"Yeah well, it debated putting me in Hufflepuff." Sherlock shook his head in disagreement, clearly happy with the result that had occurred.
They continued watching the remainder of the sorting ceremony, which didn't last long after John had been sorted. Only four students remained standing, three girls and one boy. The last to go was "Zotr, Quinn," and she felt the most pressure being the final student to be sorted. All eyes were wide in wonder to see which house would gain the last kid, and Sherlock and John clapped as Quinn went to Ravenclaw and the eagles.
Professor McGonagall gathered up the stool with the Sorting Hat, and one final round of applause echoed through the hall as the ceremony came to close. John could hear Lestrade over his shoulder sigh a relief and whisper, "Finally! I'm starving," making Mary Morstan and Sally Donovan laugh.
Several people made shushing noises and heads turned to face the end of the hall in the direction of the staff table. An old man in royal purple robes rose from his high‒backed golden throne, his long, silver beard shining like the moon. His blue eyes twinkled behind half‒moon spectacles, and the students became quiet as the headmaster Albus Dumbledore prepared to speak.
John caught Sherlock's eye. The blue and green met each other, and Holmes noticed Watson's pupils dilated inside the glassy spheres.
And John was glad that his best friend, Sherlock Holmes, belonged to the house of the royal blue and bronze rather than the house of the emerald green and silver.