Chapter Text
Year 1:
1. Introduction
***
John Watson wasn't a normal boy. His parents weren't either. His father worked for a large company, hundreds, maybe even thousands of people worked in one building. His mother, a seamstress who worked in a small shop she owned near a tavern. They were wizards, though their kids were clueless. They kept it all under close wraps.
When their eldest daughter, John's older sister Harry, hadn't shown any signs of magic they were a bit sad. When John didn't show any, they thought they weren't able to have special children. That was until John turned seven, and had his birthday party with his family.
John was laying on his stomach near where his newly opened presents lay. He was racing his toy car around on the wood floor when his mother called everyone into the dining room. The lights were off but everyone piled in anyways. John had just tottered towards his seat at the head of the table and plopped down. Everybody had started singing Happy Birthday and he grinned toothily, waiting for his dessert to be brought out. In the other room, his mother was lighting the candles with only a touch from a finger of hers.
When satisfied with the brightness, she stepped into the dining room. At the last second she tripped, and sent the cake flying. Her husband, Mr. Watson, had used a levitation charm without a second thought. None of the other family members seemed to mind, they were all about to do the same. Except the two Watson children, who were staring at the floating cheesecake.
"What- how?" A thirteen year old Harriet spluttered, looking confused. All eyes focused on her as they realized the situation.
"Harry, darling," her mother started off saying, but the young girl only turn and ran towards her room. John looked upset at his sister leaving and jumped off of his chair and followed after her.
He knocked on her bedroom door until she yelled at him and called him, "an annoying little shit." John didn't care that she used profanities, he was used to them because most of the boys in older years cursed. He was mad that she didn't open the door, though, and glared at it until it vanished. His parents had a lot of explaining to do.
+
Harry wasn't that mad when she found out she wasn't a wizard like the others, she seemed relieved almost. Harry was always content with being normal like everyone else, unlike John who thrived on uniqueness. His difference made him more lively, always asking about different spells and potions he was going to learn. When he found out about Hogwarts he was ecstatic.
On his ninth birthday he got his first broom, a Starblazer 3000, and spent days on end riding around a field behind his home. His father took him to professional Quidditch games and even showed him how to play a bit. When John became increasingly interested in the game his dad would buy him books on the history of it and tricks he learned as a kid.
When he found out he couldn't bring it with in his first year he was upset.
+
When the August before he was to go to Hogwarts arrived, he got his acceptance letter. His smile had widened big and didn't let up for days. His excitement was channelled into buying his school requirements. He had bounced through the shops, getting his books and cauldrons.
When he walked into Ollivanders and saw the stacks of wands, his mouth hung open. "Dad!" he gasped, tugging on the older mans sleeve, "look!"
There was a young boy, around his age seemingly, who was swishing a wand and a man near him nodding. "That looks about right," the older wizard commented, and led the boy towards the register where a slighter older boy was standing.
The two children seemed to be brothers from the looks of it, but not quite close. "So what'd you get?" the older one asked, his eyes never wavering from where he was handing a handful of galleons to the cashier.
"Don't be dull, Mycroft. You know what I got."
"It's nice to ask, though. It is quite nice, Phoenix feather core. Fourteen inches, is it? Blackthorn wood."
"Yes, Mycroft. Can we go now, I want to get that owl we saw earlier."
John had watched the affair carefully, so he was startled when the cashier started talking. "Watson, is it?"
"Yes, sir!" he managed to reply, a grin breaking out from ear to ear. "I've come for my wand!"
"So I see, come with me and we'll figure which is best for you." John had followed after him willingly. He had soon found out the mans name was Mr. Ollivander and that wands were special and only worked with certain wizards and witches.
They had gone through around four wands already, before Ollivander picked up another box and handed it to him. John had flicked his wrist and nothing extreme happened. The simple maneuver caused a few sparks to emit and crackle before stopping as quickly as it started.
"Ah, Hazel wood with a dragon core. Eleven and a half inches." Mr. Ollivander shifted towards the cash register and rung up the purchase, "seven galleons." Mr. Watson nodded and handed over a few coins before taking the wand and it's box. When they got home John would settle his first wand next to his new tawny owl, Gladstone.
+
The ride to Kings Cross was fast, the young boy too excited to wait to go to a new school. When he first went through the wall at Platform 9 3/4 he was buzzing with excitement. Boarding the train, and sitting down in a car was even more so. When a dark-haired boy was shoved into his compartment and sat down grumpily by the window John could feel the electricity.
"Would you shut up?" The kid snapped, his gaze not wavering from the trees outside the window.
"I- uh, I'm not saying anything," John muttered, watching the stranger with interest.
"I can hear you thinking, don't overwork yourself. We'll be arriving in three minutes," the kid turned, smiled mockingly and turned back to the window.
"Thanks," John sat down across from the boy, and gave a genuine smile. "I'm J–"
"John H. Watson, yes I know. You're from London and come from a smaller wizarding family. You're mother sells robes and formal attire, your dad is a Ministry worker. You have a brother but he's a squib."
John stared at the other boy, "amazing, did you really know all that?" The boy turned his head towards John instantly and gave him a confused look. He blinked quickly, opened his mouth like he was going to say something but shut it quick. He did this a few times before actually speaking.
"Yes, I saw everything I needed to know."
"That's so cool!"
Sherlock's confused look intensified, "I'm Sherlock."
John smiled big and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "Hello, Sherlock. You got something wrong, though. I have a sister."
"There's always something!"
+
The boys didn't part ways at the boats. They both climbed in next to each other, swaying it and sitting down roughly. John smiled big at the lanterns and pointed at the castle. Two other first years sat across from them, deeply engaged in conversation about the sorting ceremony. At some point, John almost tipped the boat over and ended up splayed across Sherlock's lap. "Sorry," he laughed, pushing himself up and sitting straight.
+
Settling down in the Great Hall, they waited to be sorted. The first half went by quickly, John was too wrapped up in his own head thinking to pay attention. After the kid to the left went, Greg Lestrade, did he start to fear what house he'd get.
Slytherin was a definite no. John had heard plenty things about the wicked house; yes it was mostly purebloods, like himself, and cunning students but they were sly and ruthless. He wasn't into deceiving others as much as the Slytherins. Ravenclaw's were naturally really smart, and even if John could do good with less studying than most, he still had to take heavy notes and pay lots of attention.
It was down to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. He could do with either, loyalty and bravery were both something he had and valued highly. John had heard that Hufflepuffs weren't thought of highly, and he really didn't want to look like a loser for the next seven years.
"Watson, John." The headmistress called, and he stood up to the sorting hat. He sat in front of it, then tried it on. It was a moment of decision.
"So you've made up your mind, eh? Slytherin is too wicked, Ravenclaw too studious and Hufflepuff not outgoing enough. So I guess the only thing left," the hat then boomed aloud, "Gryffindor!"
-
Sherlock Holmes was a wizard. He had none since the moment he was born into a pureblood family. His letter came right on time, just like his brother, Mycroft's, had. Everyone knew of the Holmes' family, as they were always flamboyant with their affairs.
Slytherins the lot of them.
+
Sherlock had been risen with the knowledge of two things; he would follow in his family's foot steps in House and Team. He was to be a Slytherin and on the Quidditch team. Much to his annoyance.
When he had been given a Firebolt, he wasn't interested. He had even given lessons until he was nine. That was the year he snapped his broom in half with annoyance. The next year they put him on the local team.
+
When their mother suggested Mycroft take Sherlock shopping, both boys groaned. That would mean spending the day with each other. They had taken the Floo network, this time Sherlock had landed in the right spot.
Sherlock had given Mycroft a hard time with the shopping, the only time it was considerably easy was when they were almost done. Going into Ollivanders for the first time was every young wizards favorite day. Sherlock was no different.
It was hard for him to find the right wand, he had walked right up to it after a few minutes of thinking and picked it up. "This one, Mr. Ollivander." He flicked his wrist, "Wingardium leviosa," and with that he sent the umbrella in Mycroft's grasp upwards.
Mr. Ollivander nodded, "That looks about right," he commented as he made his way towards the register.
Mycroft was standing nearby and handed the man the galleons needed to pay. "So, what'd you get?"
"Don't be dull, Mycroft. You know what I got," Sherlock snapped, glaring at his older brother angrily.
"It's nice to ask, though. It is quite nice, Phoenix feather core. Fourteen inches, is it? Blackthorn wood."
"Yes, Mycroft. Can we go now, I want to get that owl we saw earlier."
Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock made his way out of the store. The last thing he heard from inside was Mr. Ollivander saying, "Watson, is it?"
+
Getting on the train was nothing exciting, Sherlock had been one of the first people there and sat in one of the compartments where most of the first years usually sat. It wasn't until two older kids came in and threw him out halfway through the ride. "What the bloody hell, who let you in here?" A dark haired girl sneered, shoving him into one of the other compartments. "You're that kid who told my brother his girlfriend was cheating on him at Gringotts the other day! Freak."
Sherlock sulkily sat down by the window in the compartment, there was another boy but he wasn't of much interest. It wasn't too long before the blond boys staring got too annoying "Would you shut up?"
The boy looked taken aback, "I- uh, I'm not saying anything,"
"I can hear you thinking, don't overwork yourself. We'll be arriving in," Sherlock glanced towards the door of the compartment, "three minutes,"
"Thanks," the boy scooted down so he was sitting across from Sherlock, "I'm J–"
Sherlock grinned inwardly, he could show off a little bit to this other boy, "John H. Watson, yes I know. You're from London and come from a smaller wizarding family. You're mother sells robes and formal attire, your dad is a Ministry worker. You have a brother but he's a squib."
John only stared at Sherlock, mouth hanging open, "amazing, did you really know all that?"
Sherlock turned his head towards John instantly and gave him a confused look. Most people got pissed when he spoke his findings out loud. The darker haired boy blinked quickly, opened his mouth like he was going to say something but shut it quick. Sherlock did this a few times before actually speaking. "Yes, I saw everything I needed to know."
"That's so cool!"
His confused look intensified, "I'm Sherlock."
John smiled big and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "Hello, Sherlock. You got something wrong, though. I have a sister."
"There's always something!"
+
Sherlock and John didn't leave each other's company once the train stopped. The two of them shared a boat across the lake. They climbed in together, and sat directly next to each other across from two other first years.
John had a big smile as he looked at the lanterns and pointed at the castle. The other first years across from them were conversing about the sorting ceremony.
In his excitement John almost tipped the boat over and ended up laying on Sherlock's lap. "Sorry," John had laughed, pulling himself up and off Sherlock.
+
Sherlock hadn't thought much of which house he would be put in when he sat down in the Great Hall. He was almost certain he would be in Ravenclaw.
Sherlock didn't care much for loyalty, had anybody ever been around him long enough for him to be loyal to? Gryffindor was all about bravery, but that didn't affect him. He never did anything that required bravery. Everyone wanted him to be Slytherin, which he admit suited him but it wasn't what he wanted. To Sherlock his mind was everything, it was much more important than being cunning. His mind held his power and that's what made him Sherlock Holmes.
"Holmes, Sherlock."
He stood up quickly, and made his way to the front. He sat and pulled that hat upon himself in a graceful manner. "Ravenclaw," was all Sherlock thought, and he made a point in telling the hat that his decision was made.
"Ah, yes. I see. You could have done great in Slytherin, but not as great as you will in Ravenclaw. Wouldn't want to be your brothers shadow, now would we? Good choice to become a," the hat bellowed out, "Ravenclaw!"