Let Us All Make History

It Was Already Goodbye

Molly POV: It felt wrong to be packing so early, packing up her bags while everyone else stayed behind. The carriage was solemn as she took her last steps down the wobbling steps, her blue bags tucked under her arms as she approached the small party that had assembled near Hagrid's hut. It was odd to see Sherlock in chains, standing alone near the woods while the adults talked in fierce, hushed tones. Sherlock's bags were sitting next to Madam Maxine, as well as a small suitcase filled with what was left of Victor's possessions. Sherlock wasn't yet a criminal, for his defense was strong. It was self-defense, although excessive, and that was going to be held up in court quite well. He may get a year or two in prison, maybe he'll be fined, and yet it wasn't the punishment that worried Molly most. It was the mental damage, the fact that, despite her constant attempts to cheer him up, Sherlock had stayed silent. He was silent still; he was silent now, staring at the castle while listening to the French being jabbered away by the pack of grownups near the hut. Sherlock hadn't been himself when he took Victor's life, and he hadn't been himself ever since. A mere shell, a poor excuse for the boy was standing there now. The part of him that managed to smile had died as well, the part of him that was loaded only with his romantic issues, and not with the life of his best friend. He wouldn't recover from that, surely he never could! It was a tragedy, for Molly hadn't just lost one friend but it would seem as though she had lost two. Both turned out to be capable of murder...what crowd had she gotten herself caught up into? But that hadn't been like Victor, no it hadn't been like Sherlock either! They were good kids, they were good students, peace loving...just pushed to the edge. They were both defending love, emotions that were more powerful than the both of them, they had been hopeless to stop it! It was a tragedy; there was no better word to use. Hogwarts was supposed to house their futures and blossom their potentials, instead it landed Victor in a grave and Sherlock in chains! He was to be tried in France, for his parents and lawyers were waiting for him in Paris, as well as Victor's mourning family, getting ready to see their son in a casket. Victor had been sent ahead, having needed to take a slower means of transportation as the casket was large and burdensome. They had taken a carriage, one not unlike the one used by the students, while Molly and the rest were to go to Paris by portkey. It was sitting right near the hut, a small top hat that had been enchanted for just this purpose. John and Greg were standing rather apprehensively next to the carriage, watching as Sherlock took no notice of them, as if too afraid to approach him now that he had someone's life on his hands. It would seem as though Sherlock didn't even care that John was standing there, almost as if he had come to mean nothing. Molly approached the two nervously, clutching her suitcases as the two finally noticed her presence. Greg smiled solemnly while John just stared; still unable to process all that had happened in the short amount of time they had been given. They were once on top of the world, however it would seem as though they had been rudely grounded just as abruptly.
"Going back then?" Greg clarified with a sigh, to which Molly just nodded, stopping near the boys and dropping her suitcases into the grass.
"I can't stay here, not alone. I need to get back to my family; I need to be there for Sherlock when he's tried..." Molly's voice shuttered and finally she just silenced herself, unable to come to the realization that her only living friend was now up for murder. If he was sentenced what would she do?
"That's fine, Molly we know. That's the best choice for you both." Greg assured, stepping forward so as to take her trembling hands, stilling them for a moment with the softest of smiles. She loved him, she really did, and yet their future, even the pain of leaving...well it was all just in the back of her mind! She couldn't be selfish enough to worry about herself now, not when Sherlock was a criminal and Victor was dead, well who cared about her own life? She was lucky to be walking free, lucky to be walking at all!
"Thank you." Molly whimpered, falling into Greg's arm for one last hug goodbye.
"I'll write to you every day if I can, as soon as term is over I'll come, I'll visit." Greg promised.
"You don't have to if it's..."
"I'm going to." Greg interrupted, hugging her for a second longer before pulling away so as to kiss her forehead in a final sort of way. Molly felt tears falling and yet she couldn't be bothered by them, not when Sherlock was standing alone, barely moving in his chains, his once elegant figure now slouched and almost unpleasant to the eye. He hung his head like one who was already dead, and although his heart beat Molly was positive that it wasn't sure why. He didn't seem to have any reason to live, now that he had killed his friend and lost the trust of his others. Even John seemed scared to approach, and yet Molly knew that he must.
"He'll be fine; he's got a good defense." Greg assured, following Molly's gaze and knowing immediately what was troubling her.
"I know...but he's not him. That's not Sherlock." Molly whispered, and John hummed a bit gruffly, as if he knew exactly the issue here. As if he sympathized with Molly's concerns.
"He's broken." John agreed. Molly nodded, turning away from Greg with a shudder and grabbing her bags once more.
"Would you like to go and say goodbye?" Molly wondered, looking towards John who was now staring off towards Sherlock once more, a shiver going down their spines as they saw that Sherlock wasn't even blinking. Lost, presumably, in his own head.
"Yes I think I must." John agreed, taking a deep breath and squeezing his fingers in anticipation, as if knowing that nothing good would be waiting for him here, hidden in the shell that was left of Sherlock Holmes. Molly said her finally farewell to Greg, giving him a kiss goodbye before starting over to where Sherlock was standing, remorse for leaving her love and yet terror for approaching her friend, or what was left. Sherlock didn't notice them approaching until Molly said his name, prompting his cold, dead stare to be focused on the two of them instead of the castle.
"John." Sherlock murmured, as if just realizing that John was in the proximity, so drastically different from when he would be in the dining hall and know immediately when John entered the packed room.
"Hey Sherlock." John said a bit nervously, stopping a good four feet away as if he didn't want to get within arm's reach. It was pointless of course, for Sherlock was shackled almost completely, as if they were worried he'd break out and wreak havoc without his wand (which had been confiscated).
"So Molly, I was just thinking. Trelawney was right, about everything. John, you ought to give that old hag a pat on the back from me." Sherlock muttered in a very monotone voice, as if he was saying things without much enthusiasm, as if he was saying them just to talk.
"I will...ya." John agreed, his voice quivering as if he was realizing now that this was the last time he would see Sherlock. It was obvious that despite the love they once shared, they couldn't see each other again. It wouldn't be necessary, for Sherlock was barely focused on him now, why would he care in the future? Maybe he would return to normal, but would John only bring with him the horrible memories of what happened on the lakefront? Would his visit be nothing but traumatic? This was assuming, of course, that John even wanted to visit! He seemed just as freaked out with Sherlock as Sherlock seemed bored with him, such a difference from when they were falling in love!
"Sherlock he's come to say goodbye." Molly said obviously, expecting Sherlock to finally come to his senses and begin to weep at the idea of John's leaving. And yet he was silent, once more.
"Yes, I know." Sherlock agreed carelessly. John lingered a bit obviously, rolling on his heels and looking between the two as if wondering if he had the permission to talk.
"I'll write to you, if I can. I don't know if they'll let you get mail, but I can write to Molly, she'll pass the message on. If she can talk to you." John muttered nervously, obviously not sure what to say.
"Yes, thank you." Sherlock agreed blankly.
"This is goodbye, Sherlock. Do you not care?" John snapped finally, seeming to have overcome his nervousness only to begin to get angry at the boy he had once loved. And of course, he had every reason to be upset. Sherlock was being inconsiderate, if not plain mean, and Molly was not appreciating it either.
"John it was already goodbye." Sherlock muttered mystically, to which John just shook his head in exasperation, as if he couldn't believe he was trying to cooperate with this atrocity.
"Ya, alright then. Goodbye Sherlock." John snapped, trying to look angry while Molly could see tears very obviously welling up in his eyes. It was hard for him to just turn away from someone he loved so passionately, and yet it would seem as though that was his only choice.
"Good luck John, in the third task. I heard they moved it back for my sake. Considerate of them, I suppose." Sherlock muttered. John didn't hear him; he just walked away, grabbing Greg by the shoulder and steering him off towards the castle in something of a fit. She had hoped they would have at least exchanged their love, one last time; however it seemed as though they were long past that. Almost as if the love had faded with the life in their eyes, their love had faded with their smiles. Now all that was left was mere sighs, frowns, and wandering, unblinking eyes. Molly sighed heavily, understanding of course that was probably the last time she would see the both of them. It was nice to think that there would be a part two, in which they all visited each other and fell in love once more...but that was growing ever more impossible. What had happened between them all, there was no going back from it. There was no recovery, there was no rebirth.
"Mr. Holmes, ready to go?" asked one of the French ministry workers, standing next to the top hat and checking his pocket watch. Sherlock nodded, shuffling over to the portkey as Molly grabbed her bags and looked towards the castle once more. That beautiful castle, the one that had reigned over them for months now, that housed their classes, their meals, their friends, and their lovers. That building that had marked so many opportunities, so many chances, and dreams that had gone soiled! The beautiful Hogwarts, having lived up to its potential of magic and mayhem...it was sad to admit that she wouldn't miss it. All that had happened here, she would be happy if she never had to return to this country again. Not where Victor had died, not where Sherlock had lost himself. England was plagued with tragedy, that was for sure, and Molly had to admit that it wouldn't hurt to leave it behind.
"Five seconds, Ms. Hooper, if you would please grab hold." The ministry official insisted. Molly nodded, grabbing her suitcases with one arm and clutching the hat with the other. Sherlock's shackled hand remained next to hers, and she was surprised to see him watching the castle, almost as if he was going to miss it. Almost as if he was watching as John finally disappeared in the large oak doors. Watching as the scenery turned to mere colors around them, as their stomachs jolted and they were launched into the air. All Molly could see was the hat, and she could see Sherlock's pale hand still clutching to the fabric. She could see the colors until finally they changed, and at last the brown blur that was the Hogwarts castle disappeared, changed to something else. Something that was more familiar, and less tragic. Home, I suppose, was another way to put it. They were going home. 

A/N: Oh man this story!!! This story.... Goodness. I wrote it back when I assumed my writing was coming to an end, and I wanted to go back to Hogwarts one last time. There were so many versions I was about to write, too! I had a version where Victor took polyjuice potion and turned himself into John for like the whole year, until finally Sherlock flirted with the real John and got painfully rejected. The conclusion was always going to be the same, yet in one instance I was going to write it that Sherlock went back and stole Victor's head off of his corpse, and kept that as the skull on the mantle and went absolutely crazy. Ya, so this was what it turned out to be, so that's pretty exciting. I liked it, although the readers these past couple of months have been very low, and inactive. Sort of disheartening, really, but that's alright. I blame if on Moffat and his ridiculous season four. Nonetheless, I'll decide between now and Wednesday how my new layout of stories are going to be. I have two completed stories and one in the making, yet it's almost impossible to write here at college, and I'm moving at a snail's pace. One story is an amazing sequel, and the other is such trash that I don't think I'm even going to publish it. It was written in my transition from high school to college, so I was very distracted as I wrote it and it turned out to be, in my opinion, predictable boring garbage. So that one might sit back, and I may just wait until all three of these stories which are being published now have run their course, and begin updating one story at a time.  So that you guys always have new content, but I still have time to be distracted with homework and athletics and whatever else higher education throws at me. So ya! Thanks for reading, and I hope you guys enjoyed!