Sherlock sat morose in the compartment of the 'magical train', looking out at the flocks of people. The life as knew had been destroyed over the course of a month. The cherished rules of the 'muggle' world (A term for non magical beings as he had recently learned) he had known applied no longer. Even his parents had known about this. His great grandfather was a wizard, whom coincidentally he was also named after. Great! He knew now whom to blame for his weird name as well as him being a wizard. Their parents had not known much. They hadn't known how it actually worked or where was this school. But they had hoped that when Mycroft was born, he would be the gifted one; given how smart he was.
But Sherlock got the 'gift'. And as a reward, they took him to a dodgy pub in London called Leaky Cauldron.
Albeit because the magical Diagon Alley was behind the pub. The owner was happy to oblige them an entry upon seeing the Hogwarts letter.
He now had weird potion stuff, a cauldron, a brass scale, the weird magical books which he hadn't touched (a difficulty in itself), the foolish robes and what not. He had a pointy hat for Godssake! And the wand.
His hands itched to get the wand out, to try it out once more as he had done in that dusty old wand shop. He could not believe that a 13 inch stick of pinewood had a dragon's heart string at it's core and can perform magic. He liked Mr. Ollivander, the shop owner though. There was something very intriguing about him. He kept thinking about the warmth he had felt in his hand when he took his wand. Could this world really be true?
Sherlock knew there was no use second guessing himself. He was in this train. He had himself passed through platform's wall to get here. He had seen the Gringotts bank and the goblins working there. 'Stop this,' he admonished himself. 'Widen your mind. You can definitely understand this. This is just like new subject, previously unknown. Embrace it.'
Suddenly the compartment door opened and a harrowed looking boy of his age lugged his trunk in. He was small and slight, with mousy hair. He immediately went to the window and waved at a couple who were waving back at him. Sherlock glanced at him and the couple, probably his parents. The woman looked very similar to the boy.
The train started moving. The boy still looked out of the window till the station disappeared. Sherlock wondered if the train had come out of Kings Cross Station or were they somewhere else.
The boy sighed and went back to his heavy luggage. He tried to heave it on the shelf above their heads. He even once or twice glanced at Sherlock, hoping he would help him. But Sherlock was busy looking out of the window.
Finally the boy gave up and flopped on the seat.
"Hi, I'm John Watson," the boy offered his hands.
Sherlock hesitated but he took his hand. "Sherlock Holmes. I thought Wizards mostly had weird names. Are you a muggleborn? Or maybe your dad is. Yeah, he is the muggle born one, isn't he? I saw him a bit bewildered when you waved, clutching tightly on his car keys. But your mum's clearly a wizard. I saw the wand sticking out of her big purse."
John sat there, looking wide eyed. "Whoa," he replied. "When did you notice all that?"
John had a hint of admiration in his tone, which pleased Sherlock. Usually the adults are annoyed with him and the children, being more honest, tell him to piss off.
He just shrugged. John continued, "You're right though. My dad's the muggle one. We all knew about Hogwarts and stuff. But dad insists that we don't talk about it."
"He was happy when your brother didn't turn out to be a wizard?"
"How'd-?"
"The clothes are clearly hand me downs. Probably belonging to an elder sibling. But he isn't here. Meaning he is probably a normal kid," Sherlock commented on his sweater and pants. John frowned and didn't say anything anymore. Sherlock guessed that he too had gotten offended like everybody else when he said anything. And here he was hoping he had actually possibly gotten a friend. Which made Sherlock sulk and he too looked out of the window at the passing pastures.
To his surprise, John spoke suddenly. "That's not a nice thing to say, commenting on somebody's clothes. Mum says you shouldn't."
"Sorry," Sherlock said. "I- I didn't realise." He genuinely hadn't.
"It's alright," John beamed and once again began talking.
...
"- And my mum was a Slytherin. She says for sure I'd be in hufflepuff. I mean, I sort of agree. Hufflepuffs are good only for sneaking cookies from the kitchen, mum says. And I am a champion when it comes to finding the cookies my mum hides-"
Sherlock had mostly tuned out John's chatter. John was nice. But most of the stuff he said was kind of boring. But he had befriended Sherlock despite him offending him. And Sherlock was very grateful for that. The sky outside had darkened when an older boy, already in his school robes opened the cabin and announced that they had neared the school and they should get changed into their robes.
Sherlock pointed out (i.e. complained) to John how stupid their robes and hats were. But John was excited.
"But it's like Halloween! You need to dress up. How would get the feel if you learn magic in your knitted sweaters?"
His logic was infallible. And Sherlock dressed in silence. They were told to leave their trunks as they boarded off at the Hogsmead station. A giant, hairy man with a lantern in his hands called for the first years with him.
"Is he from the school authority?" Sherlock asked John. John laughed as if he made the best joke in the world.
"That's Hagrid, the game keeper. Mum likes him. He's a half giant."
"That's... cool."
Hagrid showed them into the boats. They had to cross a lake to get to the castle. Sherlock saw the older ones going into automatic carriages the other way. Why were the first years carried dangerously across the lake in the night while the older ones went safely in carriages?
He looked ahead to get the first look at his wizard school. Hogwarts.
It was a freaking castle. Huge and intimidating. Black spires and the lantern lights within gleamed in the darkness.
In the boat he sat with a blonde boy called Greg and a curly haired girl called Sally. Greg seemed easy going like John. They two struck an instant friendship. But Sally kept to herself. Only when they were talking about the school houses, she said she'd rather go back home than be anywhere but Ravenclaw.
"What's so special about that house?" Sherlock asked.
"It's the smartest of the houses," she said with her head held high. "Not like other houses. Especially the hufflepuffs," she glanced at John who was talking about it to Greg.
"It's also the snootiest," John commented, which Sherlock presumed another one of his mother's opinions. Sherlock knew that he would be sorted in Ravenclaw after Sally's words. But after John's comment, he didn't want to.
He didn't want to be in the same house as the Sally girl. He also didn't want to be away from John, his new friend, who he was certain won't be in Ravenclaw. No offence but John wasn't the brightest bulb.
They got off at the other side and Hagrid led them through a big door inside a hall. A witch with square glasses was standing there, some scrolls in her hand. She looked over the bunch of fist years and frowned. She checked the scrolls in her hand. The witch looked at Hagrid but he shrugged. Other kids were busy looking around but Sherlock caught the exchange. Was there any mistake? Could he go back to his home? He never liked his school but no matter how majestic Hogwarts looked, he felt very uneasy there.
The witch cleared her throat and silence fell over their group.
"I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall. I shall lead you to the Great Hall to get you sorted into the four school houses- Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. But for now, you stay here." She led them all into a small room which by the looks of it was an old classroom. She told them to wait there and left. A nervous chatter spread among the kids.
"So how do they put us into these houses? Do we have a say?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh no, a hat places us."
"A what?"
...
It actually was a hat. A ratty, old, pointed hat which sang a song about hogwarts and it's houses. And nobody seemed to think it was weird. Instead, everybody clapped. Sherlock betted they also didn't find the floating candles, the visible sky and the grey things between them which resembled human beings, any weirder than the singing hat.
"They're ghosts," John whispered to him. "Mum tells the stories of Peeves and the Bloody Baron."
Before he could ask him to elaborate, Professor Minerva McGonagall began calling the names.
The first girl, Kittie Ainsley went ahead and sat on the stool. Prof McGonagall put the hat on her head and withing few seconds it proclaimed her a Gryffindor.
"How does that work? Is there any machine inside the hat?" he asked.
"Magic," Greg replied, who was standing near him. It effectively silenced him. He felt like an atheist who had gone to mass communion. He knew what an atheist was. His dad called him that when he was 7 and had asked hundreds of questions about God. Jesus, he understood. He was this good guy. But the God he could not get.
Donovon Sally was before him and she was appropriately sorted in Ravenclaw. Then he realised that John Watson would be at the very end. Sherlock didn't know what house John was going to be sorted into. Also, there was a good chance that he was going to find some better friends. One who didn't comment on his second hand clothes.
"Holmes Sherlock," Prof McGonagall called.
He walked ahead and sat on the stool. The hat was placed on him. And it spoke, inside his head. It freaked Sherlock out.
"Hmm.. I see intelligence. And self sufficiency. You are a brave soul. You can be a Gryffindor. But I think you are more appropriate for RAVENCLAW!!" It spoke the last word out loud and he received the customary cheer from the Ravenclaw table. The banners of blue and Bronze hung above their table. He saw that each house had different colors.
Slytherin were Green and Silver with a snake. Ravenclaw were Blue and Bronze with an eagle.
Hufflepuff were Yellow and black with a badger. And the Gryffindor were red and orange with a lion.
He glanced at John and Greg. Greg smiled at him, waving sympathetically. But John was looking elsewhere. He definitely thought Sherlock was snooty as he was sorted in Ravenclaw.
Huh, back to square one, Holmes.
He sat at the Ravenclaw table, Sally far away from him. Two three boys around him clapped on his back, welcoming him. They didn't seem uptight.
Greg Lestrade was sorted a few people after him. He was sorted into Gryffindor. There were very few people after him and Watson John came quickly.
"What kind of name is that? John Watson. Seems very muggle," the older boy sitting next to him commented.
"Is that a problem?" Holmes asked.
The boy, Ivan Wight looked surprised as the sulky looking boy next to him spoke.
"I guess not," he amended. "But you know, muggles never get us. Children of witches and wizard have a better understanding-"
"Gryffindor!" the hat announced and the table most to the right cheered. Sherlock had noticed them to cheer the loudest whenever anyone got sorted in their house.
John got off the stool and immediately joined Greg. John turned around and glanced at the ravenclaw table but Sherlock quickly turned his neck to focus on the food that had magically appeared.
His ears buzzed. The headmaster, an old wizard with impressive facial hair seemed to say something but he wasn't listening.
Sherlock's heart had sunk. He could've been in Gryffindor with Greg and John. The hat said so... Could he change it?
...
A/N
As you can see, I'm not giving much description but instead focusing on the characters. If you want more description, then tell so...