Chapter Text
John Watson was beyond excited. This evening the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons would arrive. His excitement was shared by just about every single other student in the entire castle. In the last week, no other topic of conversation besides the Triwizard Tournament arose, so when it was finally there, the joy and expectations were nearly bubbling over.
He, like every other student could not await the evening when the foreign witches and wizards would arrive. The students at Hogwarts rushed through their day, with the evening coming closer and closer. The Great Hall was neatly decorated for their guests and the fact that the last lesson would end half an hour early did not lessen the happiness of anyone besides maybe Professor Snape who had to shorten his lesson with the Gryffindors and Slytherins.
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Sherlock Holmes was shivering. Irene was huddled right beside him in an effort to share body heat as Sherlock was not allowed to light a fire in a flying vehicle with mostly wood as the material. Irene was cursing the situation out, it was 'cold as balls', according to her. Sherlock himself did not really swear at all but could agree with his cousin's statement. But thankfully, they were apparently approaching Hogwarts, since the teeth clappering of their classmates lessened and the joyous "Nous arrivons, finalement!" increased.
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Every Hogwarts student watched with eager when the other schools were supposed to arrive. "It's a bird!" "No you buffoon, it's a flying house". They were both wrong. A gigantic carriage, led by abnormally large pegasi landed. Out of it came the pastel-blue clothed girls and boys of Beauxbatons.
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'Finally', Sherlock thought, when their headmisstress lead them into the castle to prevent her students from dying of hypothermia. They passed some of the Hogwarts students on their way in and all their eyes were on them. Sherlock noticed a million things at one, like how many students were staring at him (7 out of the 32 students in that pack), who was popular (12/32), who was his age (8/32) and who would want to participate (26 of them, maybe 27). But then they passed the group and entered the British Wizarding School.
In the Great Hall with the weather-accurate sky, Irene dashed towards him and flung her arms around Sherlock. "Can you refrain from using me as your 'heat-pillow' everywhere at any given moment?", Sherlock grunted. "Ooh, like you're above the need for body heat, I'm cold as ice and so are you, you drama queen." He sighed. Irene was completely aware of his shivering. But she did let go of him once the Hogwarts and Durmstrang students entered.
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As John reentered the Great Hall alongside a few of his fellow Hufflepuffs, like 4th year Hannah Abbot, 5th year Molly Hooper, 6th year Cedric Diggory and his friendgroup, the Beauxbatons students were standing right in the middle of the room, unsure where to sit. John smiled friendly and in an attempt to wave that was forgotten soon after, raised his hand rather awkwardly. Some of the French boys and girls looked his way, a few smiling. Others smirking. Others expressionless. A curly haired boy with a pale skintone and remarkable cheekbones frowned. John shook his head at his own weird and embarrassing hand gesture and quickly got over to his table.
During the meal he found himself looking over to the Ravenclaw table at times, using the excuse of 'veelas', that his buddies were going on about as a disguise to look at the curly-haired boy again. He was barely speaking nor eating. His eyes were mesmerising. He looked at lots of people intensely as if he was trying to read their thoughts or something. And there was something about him that kept John's attention at his person.
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So much new information. The stories their clothes and movement told Sherlock. Irene, who was sitting next to him, kept constant eye contact with an asian girl a few metres down the table. "Sherlock, 2 am sharp, what can you tell me about her?", she asked at some point during the feast. "Other than that the girl has captured your attention?" She furrowed a brow. Sherlock sighed:"Fine. 5th year. Girl next go her is her best friend. Upset, possibly because of the mail this morning, which contents revealed something she did not like, also likely it had something to do with her older brother. Tense relationship. She does sports. Quidditch. From her build and movement I am assuming seeker. Currently not in a relationship as far as I can tell. That's enough to be going on with her, don't you think? Go ahead. Make your move." Irene flashed her pearly white teeth in a shark-like, sarcastic smile. She got up from her seat and walked over to where the girl was sitting, blaming the food over there as the reason for her visit. She quickly fell into conversation with the girl. Sherlock was almost smirking.
With boredom settling in, Sherlock let his gaze drift over students, deducing. Looking at the nearby table of Gryffindors, he watched and observed. That redheaded boy- fourth year, many siblings, poor family and fairly infatuated with Fleur. The boy next to him not so much, he had black har and glasses and- and was Harry Potter. Sherlock was sitting right in front of the two, just one table in between, looking at the back of a girls head. Muggleborn. Hard-working and very invested in school work. But right between her head and Harry's, Sherlock saw a Hufflepuff immediately looking away. Hmm. Could be interesting.
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John's face was turning a colour deeper than the cherry juice Molly, right next to him, was drinking. "Are you alright, mate?",Mike asked him. "Have you swallowed something you didn't mean to?, Molly wondered. John shook his head and assured them he was fine. But he was deeply embarrassed. The boy caught him staring. He wasn't staring per se, he wasn't gay or anything. Maybe John actually looked at the pretty girl next to him, raven black hair in an elegant bun and deep red lips- no. Back to the full lips with a wonderful cupids bow, now smirking. Yeah, he was looking at him. Their eyes met and John was looking right into what seemed to be an ocean. The hufflepuff quickly looked back down onto his meal. Maybe later John would try to explain everything to him and turn the situation into something less embarrassing, he was good with words, having written several pieces for a smaller newspaper called 'The Strand'. For the rest of the dinner he listened along to the heated conversation Molly and Mike were having with only one ear. Afterwards he could hardly recall it, Something about the healing paste the two were experimenting on. John tried to push the curly-haired french boy out of his mind and instead focused on the phone Harry had given him. She wanted to stay in touch and gave it to him. John did end up bringing it with him after casting several protection spells on it. Magic and technology didn't work out well.
Dumbledore then held his speech and announced that by tomorrow evening the champions will have been chosen. He set up the goblet and the feast ended.
When he left the Great Hall, the dark-haired boy with the confusing eyes he'd been looking at also approached the door. John held the door open and the boy slipped through. "Listen,"John called after him, determined to make things right immediately. He let the phone fall into his pocket. "Apologies for that, it was a bit weird, I just... you look like someone I knew..." The boy frowned. Then he let his gaze wander, staring at John intently, as if he were scanning him. "Hmmm... Afghanistan or Iraq?", he asked after a few moments. John's eyes nearly fell out of his head. "Sorry what?" The boy's frown deepened even further. "Your father. Which one was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?" John's face showed wonder and confusion. "Afghanistan... sorry, how did you-" the pretty girl that sat next to him during dinner interrupted them by walking right through the middle of the doorway, blocked by the two faster eaters who decided to leave early. She hooked her arm into his and dragged him along. "It went splendidly. For a first conversation that is-" John couldnt hear the rest of what the girl said as the two of them disappeared at what seemed to be light speed compared to Johns apparent inability to move at all.
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Sherlock tried to not let his annoyance show too much. He wasnt his even sure why he was annoyed at Irene for interrupting his conversation with the boy.
But then again the next thing he would have said would have been hurtful and rude so he tried to not be bothered too much by it all. Instead he listened to the carriage door at night to hear who left it to put their name into the goblet of fire. He himself did not plan to try, he knew of the age restriction and of Dumbledores skill in wizardry. Sherlock was at Hogwarts because he found Beauxbatons to be tiring at times. New faces to deduce, a new setting for his experiments and new secrets to discover had intrigued him.
The next morning Sherlock was one of the first at breakfast, with the intention of eating an apple and packing some things to experiment on later that day. The Goblet of Fire was positioned in the middle of the Great Hall. Sherlock observed some of the possible contestants and tried to deduce who would win. He already knew that Fleur would end up being the Beauxbatons champion, having known her for several years, especially close when Irene and her were an item. She didn't hate him and he could tolerate her but they did not appreciate the other's company enough to be more than acquaintances. Yet when she put her name into the goblet they locked eyes for a moment. His eyebrow raised when she exchanged her snobby expression for a neutral one and turned around to leave. Interesting.
However, he did not anticipate to see the boy from yesterday again. Said boy locked eyes with him rather sooner than later and scrambled out of his seat. Sherlock, neither wanting to get beat to a pulp nor get sent back to Beauxbatons for causing a scene followed his natural instinct and fled.
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John was having none of it. He stormed after the boy who, despite his lanky appearance could compete in the running Olympics. But John knew the castle better and found a shortcut. Unfortunately he came through the secret tunnel at the same time the boy passed and they bumped together and both landed on the floor. "No, you won't run, stop it!" He rose his arm and the boy flinched. Johns face fell. "Were you- hey sorry... i don't want to hit you or hurt you in any way." The crease between the dark haired boys eyebrows deepened in disbelief. "That's... odd." John carefully asked:"What is?" "I can't detect a lie." John was baffled. "Well, cause I'm not. Lying. I just want to know who you are and how you knew about my father." The boy nodded. "I didn't stalk you or anything, if that's what you're concerned about. I just saw you were muggleborn and alongside a few other things, noticed the dog tags. And you were obviously too young, and while your brother or uncle would work, father is more likely." "What other things" The boy looked at him in wonder. He then caught himself and started speaking again at a pace which seemed to be reserved for only him as noone else John knew of could ratter down facts in such a rush. "I know he was a muggle and that he was an army doctor and you aspire to be a doctor too. Magical though. So healer. I know he hasn't got a good relationship with you or your brother, but with him especially. And I noticed your mobile device. Your brother gave it to you. Harry is worried about you and wants to stay in touch but you dont approve of him, possibly because he's an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his girlfriend. And due to a traumatic event your muggle therapist thinks that limp you had was psychosomatic, quite correctly I'm afraid. But you're not limping anymore, are you? That's enough to be going on with, don't you think? Oh and the name's Sherlock Holmes." John was baffled. "That was amazing. Incredible." "You really think that?", the boy asked sheepishly. "Of course, it was quite... brilliant." Sherlock frowned. "That's not what people usually say." "Well, what do people usually say?" Sherlock smirked. "Piss off" John laughed at that. Sherlock joined in. "So what are you doing today, want me to give you a tour of the castle?", John grinned. Sherlock thought about that. "Do you know any secret passages?" "Sure!" John smiled evilish, something very unlike him. Sherlock could tell, he was an expert on people. And he accepted.