Harry Potter, Sherlock 1. Welcome to Hogwarts

The sorting hat. The all-knowing (supposedly) magical old ratty hat that basically determined your future life at Hogwarts. Sherlock had been at first underwhelmed at the talking hat. There were plenty of things that wouldn't otherwise be talking if it weren't for magic. His father's favorite, the monster book of monsters, happened to try and snap its jaws on Sherlock's hand when he was researching potions before he was even admitted to Hogwarts. Though, he wasn't allowed to use magic, he always convinced his brother to give the occasional wand wave when needed.

His mother was an auror, formerly in Ravenclaw house, while his dad was a Hufflepuff studying herbology. He perfected remedies at Saint Mungo's Hospital, and tended to the wounded, especially through the unforgivable curses. He always would talk of a man named "Gilderoy Lockhart," an unfortunate case of plagiarism and inflated ego, if you asked Sherlock.

His brother, Mycroft, had just graduated from Hogwarts, being seven years apart, and had earned himself a high position in the Ministry of Magic, Britain's department. The minister himself had met with him, and had high hopes for the elder Holmes. Sherlock was often overlooked, seeing as he hadn't even gotten his wand yet, though somehow managed to gather all the ingredients to concoct a small amount of polyjuice potion.

"Alright, Sherlock. Platform nine-and-three-quarters is right through here." The elder said, first looking around, then going straight through the barrier. Sherlock followed suit, pushing his heavy trolley in front of him. The sight was more than expected. He'd never seen his brother off to the school, so the Hogwarts express was rather marvelous. Cats, toads, broomsticks, cauldrons; it was all there. Not like the usual school bus that came every morning. He had to tell his friends that he was moving. It was only partially a lie. But now, he was able to study real magic. His favorite subject was of course, potions, but defense against the dark arts intrigued him. He'd already read "Hogwarts, A History" and "The standard book of spells", grades one and two. First years were expected to master simple incantations, such as levitation and transfiguration by the end of the year. Mycroft had only let Sherlock borrow his first two books, for fear any more information would overwhelm the young wizard.

His luggage was swiftly packed onto the train, by magic of course, and he had a few galleons in his pocket for lunch later (and some sweets from honeydukes.) After a quick and minimally intimate handshake 'goodbye,' the anti-social young male walked the train until he finally found an empty car, sat down, and began reading a potions book he'd stolen from Mycroft.

All too soon, his silence was interrupted by a little girl, first year by the looks of it, who couldn't seem to find an empty car.

"Um. Sorry, do you mind? All the other compartments are full." She said, her face blushing with anxiety. Shy, but intellectually impressive. Her robes were brand new, but she was looking around nervously at well, _everything._ Her fascination with his moving book cover hinted at 'muggle-born.' A single glance and she had her entire background. Parents are wealthy, open minded, and probably believed in magic, being witnesses to it themselves. One was likely a squib, so that's how she managed to get wizard currency, new robes, and a wand from Ollivander's, all from Diagon Alley.

While everything was going on through his mind, he simply nodded in a silent 'yes, please sit.' to which she quickly shut the compartment door. The girl sat staring out the window for a good ten minutes, then finally turned to Sherlock, who had put his book down for the time being. He sometimes got motion sickness. This was one of those times.

"So, what is your name?" The girl asked

"Sherlock Holmes. and yours?"

"Molly Hooper."

"First year?"

"You too?"

Sherlock nodded, slightly bored by the small talk. Just then, the trolley passed their car, and they both eagerly split a box of every-flavour-beans and about ten chocolate frogs amongst each other. Sherlock pulled out a card and it read

"Harry Potter. Known for defeating Tom Marvolo Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, at the mere age of seventeen. Currently, he is working at the Ministry of magic as an auror in the British branch." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Him again. Really? I've got like eight of the bloke." Sherlock groaned, dropping his usually formal manner to complain like a child.

Molly giggled. "I like him. He is apparently coming to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against The Dark Arts this year. He had a rather bad injury in the field, something with a mermaid. So the ministry put him on leave for a few years so he could fully recover." She looked at her card as she took a nibble out of her frog.

"'Albus Dumbledore: Former headmaster of Hogwarts. Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark wizard, Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and ten-pin bowling.' Well obviously Harry's declined interviews so his card's rather… incomplete."

"Dumbledore was a genius. I don't call many people geniuses, but he was rather brilliant." Sherlock said softly.

And then came another knock.

"Hello! Couldn't find an empty car. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, John. Sherlock, this is my friend, John Watson."

* * *

Tell me if you want me to continue this on an irregular basis along with my black butler story. Review please! It gives me more motivation to write more.


	2. Sorted

As expected, the train ride was relatively short, and as all first years realized they'd need to change, the bathrooms became quite full. some of the boys and girls closed up their cars to change in mass, which shortened the lines significantly. Sherlock though, being with Molly, had the courtesy to leave the car to her and he and John headed to the damnable line.

"So you're a first year I take it?" John asked, inspecting the taller's robes, and not finding a house colored tie.

"Yes. And so are you from the looks of it."

"Where are you from?"

"My entire family has magical blood, and I was raised as such. Though, I did enjoy going to muggle school, the subjects were all boring. Nothing useful. All deleted from the brain."

"Really? It's odd hearing about all these kids learning to fly when they were five. I have muggle parents. Well, a muggle dad. My mum was a witch, but decided not to raise me as a wizard. Worked for the british government as a spy, but I think she was more like a bridge between the muggles and magical folk. Clearing up suspicious magical activity. When she was really young, she had to figure out why there was a flying car leaving king's cross station. Some wizard at the ministry enchanted it, and these two kids decided to take it for a spin."

Sherlock was rather intrigued by this 'John' fellow. Interesting background. Though, he had already deduced 'military' from his posture and physical fitness. Straight as a board, and most likely from a private military academy. The gun in his pocket was also a hint.

"What's that, there?" Sherlock asked, pointing to the small pistol.

"Oh. Well it's just a pistol. I don't have any bullets, so they let me keep it as a reminder of home. Professor Flitwick is supposed to charm it so it won't kill anyone, so it'll be rather useless soon. My father's in the military currently fighting in Afghanistan. Taught me how to shoot point blank instead of waving a wand. I went to school until I got the letter. By owl of all things."

They both were finished changing, and then returned to the car, knocking before entering.

Sherlock smirked, noticing Molly's flushed face. "How did you meet miss Molly here?"

Molly took that as a cue to join in. "Oh we met when we were kids. I'm a muggle-born, so I had no clue about any of this. My parents had a real shock when I got my letter. Sent by Professor McGonnagall. I heard she'll be retiring before we graduate. She is quite an old witch. Seen more than enough battles and students for a lifetime I'm sure."

Sherlock sighed a little. He'd heard the headmistress was grand (not as grand as Dumbledore), and he would like to have a competent head of school for the entirety of his stay at Hogwarts.

Before he could say anything, the train began to slow, and the three of them became rather excited (though sherlock didn't show it. naturally.

"First years this way please! First years over here!"

A bellowing voice emitted from a large man, half giant most likely, who was holding a large lantern in his right hand. He was easy to spot through the crowd of students. The rest went off in another direction. The small gathering of first years grew into a rather sizable bunch. The half-giant introduced himself as "Professor Hagrid," and it was clear from his rugged appearance that he was the care for magical creatures instructor. The sun was setting abnormally quickly. Probably a charm or something. Make the first years ogle at the scenery, then sort them into their houses.

The magical rowboats were just as expected - first year orientation. The castle... It looked magnificent. John nearly fell out trying to get a closer look, but Hagrid saved him before he got wet. Some of the girls giggled, and were looking quite fondly at the two of them. Sherlock was uninterested, but John seemed to enjoy the attention.

As they approached what he presumed to be the great hall, another teacher came to greet them. "Hello first years! I am professor Juliana Bexley; head of Gryffindor house and the transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You are all about to be sorted into your respective houses by the sorting hat. Now, just follow me into the front, and as you are sorted, you shall each go sit with your respective table. It will be quite clear where you're supposed to be."

And with that, the doors opened to reveal the enchanted ceiling with floating candles, long benches and tables crowded with students decked out in green, silver, gold, blue, and the signature pointed hats of young witches and wizards. Professor McGonnagall was at the center of the teachers' table, sitting tall and proud. Everyone clapped for the first years. Moly was clinging to John's arm out of nerves. Everyone was staring at them as they stepped up in front to the stool where an old, ratty hat sat. Looked pretty normal at first...

"Philip Anderson" Bexley called, in a clear tone. The first year wiggled his way to the front (rather reluctantly) and sat down on the stool. Then the hat started talking. It nearly covered his eyes as it flapped around slightly, muttering something into his ears.

"Hufflepuff!" The hat announced, and the small boy emerged with a wide grin on his face. The Puffs' table was welcoming, as expected from a community like that.

A few people later, "Sally Donovan" was called to the stool. The hat barely touched her head before "Gryffindor" rung out to the crowd.

Soon enough, it was Sherlock's turn. He took his place, sitting very upright in his seat, and looking rather bored with it all. It was a tedious process. "Another Holmes, I see... You have the wit to be in ravenclaw, but... Your actions are always calculated meticulously... Yes... 'Slytherin!'" The hat announced. Once he fixed the state of his slightly flattened hair, he headed over to the other slytherins, who were greeting him like family. A few mentioned his brother, Mycroft, and asked about how he was doing. They'd always had a little of a sibling rivalry, but surely the elder Holmes would be happy to know his brother was in good hands. Next to him was the earlier sorted Irene Adler, a rather sly looking girl with long wavy brunette hair. She gave him the eye, and looked at his clean robes. When they all received ties, she insisted she help him with his.

After Holmes, it was finally Molly's turn, and she went up very timidly. John shot her a reassuring glance, to which she smiled softly. It was around five seconds until it said "Ravenclaw!" Of course, John was happy for her. She was sorted among the best and the brightest.

A bit later, the boy named Greg was sorted into Gryffindor, and then right after, two boys who seemed very good friends were both sorted into Slytherin consecutively. Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty sat across from sherlock and shook hands. Nice enough, but sherlock had a bad feeling about James. He gave him this smile that was almost too sweet. Irene and he seemed to be on good terms with each other.

Finally it was his friend's turn. John stood up proudly and was anything but nervous when the hat covered his eyes. There was a long pause of the hat just thinking. No mumbling to himself. Not a word. Then everyone was startled when it shouted "Gryffindor!"

Sherlock, honestly, was a little disappointed. Though he'd already deduced everyone's house, he still had a small part inside of him wanting to know the small blonde. He was kind, and obviously loved adventure, so he belonged there with the other lions.


End file.

Harry Potter, Sherlock, Adventure, Romance