“What do you mean heir?” He hissed at Sherlock.
“The Chamber of Secrets!” Sherlock said happily.
“This couldn’t wait until morning?” John complained. Sherlock looked confused.
“What is going on?!” Mike complained.
“Nothing!” Sherlock groaned.
“Sherlock, please, go back to bed, we can talk about this tomorrow morning, I was fast asleep and I’m not in the mood to think right now.” John complained. Sherlock, on the other hand, looked wide awake, and disappointed that John didn’t find his information as interesting as he did.
“But John, I solved it, it’s Snape.” He said, sounding hurt. John groaned, if anything could make him crawl out of bed at one in the morning it was Sherlock making him feel guilty.
“Let’s go in the common room, get Mike and Greg, they’ll kill me.” Sherlock said, louder now.
“Shush, people were trying to sleep.” John pointed out, sliding out of bed. Sherlock crept silently down the steps while John tried to get Greg and Mike. After a lot of silent arguing, they sat in the armchairs and looked up at Sherlock with annoyance. The common room was dark, the only light was the crackling fire, and no one else was here, of course.
“What exactly is so important?” Mike asked, yawning.
“I figured out who the heir had to be, it’s Snape!” Sherlock said excitedly.
“My brain is still in sleep mode, please explain.” Greg complained.
“He’s head of Slytherin house, he is well over fifty, and think about it, the girl was one of the girls who asked me out, and he was mad at us that day, so he’s trying to frame one of us, obviously.” Sherlock said.
“How would that frame one of us?” John asked, even though it made sense.
“If he keeps going after our enemies then eventually one of these brainless people has to consider me or you, and then Dumbledore will expel us and Snape would have his classroom back.” Sherlock said obviously.
“You think a teacher would kill students?” Greg asked.
“No, that’s why she was only paralyzed, because as heartless as Snape is, he wouldn’t kill people just to get back at us.”
“But we’re Muggle born, how would they suspect us?”
“I don’t know how many people know that, you can’t kill an idea, especially if everything but one thing makes sense.” Sherlock said, his eyes alight with discovery.
“What was the purpose of getting us up at one in the morning?” Mike complained.
“So I could tell you.” Sherlock said obviously.
“Why couldn’t it wait?” Mike groaned.
“It was bugging me to death, I couldn’t sleep, I thought you’d be the same way.”
“How’d you even get in?”
“I’m a professor.”
“I know, but the fat lady wouldn’t let you in!” Mike defended. Sherlock just looked at him with confusion.
“Well, now we know, can we please go back to sleep now?” Greg complained.
“I guess I’ll see you at breakfast then.” Sherlock muttered, looking disappointed. He must have expected a parade or something, but John couldn’t bear him looking sad.
“Sherlock, good job, figuring that out, I never could’ve, and now we know what’s going on.” John said. Sherlock smiled at him, and John decided it was worth getting up at one in the morning to see that beautiful smile again.
“Good night John.” Sherlock said, nodding to the others.
“Good night Sherlock.” John agreed. He made sure the portrait hole shut before he went back up the steps to the dormitories.
“What was that all about?” Rory asked, his wand still lit.
“Nothing, go back to bed.” Greg muttered, yawning. Rory rolled his eyes, but the light went out. John felt so happy to be back under his soft sheets, warm and inviting. His pillow seemed softer and sleep came quick.
The next morning the sun was bright, shining through the windows and marking the last day of the weekend. John groaned, he had History of Magic homework, which he would have to do today. He lay in bed and theorized Sherlock’s theory, Snape being the heir of Slytherin? It made sense, of course it did, Sherlock found out the motives and what was going on, John just wondered what monster it was. The other boys were starting to wake up too. It was late in the morning, John could tell that much, they had all slept in probably because of the night time visitor. John hoped he hadn’t hurt Sherlock when he punched him, but he seemed pretty okay when he was talking. There was a really annoying tapping on the window, but John ignored it, yawning peacefully and looking up at the ceiling. The tapping got louder, followed by hoots. It must be an owl with a letter to someone. He got out of bed, not nearly as miserable, and opened the window to see a sleek black owl perched on the window sill. On its leg, as expected, was a letter. John untied the letter and read who it was addressed to, and to his surprised his name was written in impossibly neat cursive, Sherlock. He opened it cautiously, half expecting it to be a howler, but the paper stayed quiet.
John,
I am going to be doing a little research on Snape and the Chamber today. I am skipping breakfast so I don’t feel like going all the way to the Great Hall to tell you. I hope to find out his blood status and what type of monster lives in the Chamber. If I find all of this I might go looking for the Chamber, and I would be very relieved if you and your friends would join me just in case. I will be at the library.
Love,
Sherlock.
John scrambled to find a quill and parchment, scribbling a promise that he’d be there at one o’clock, after quidditch and lunch since tryouts were tomorrow. He told Sherlock not to go looking for the Chamber by himself, and that he was welcome to watch him practice if he wanted. He tied it to the impatient owl’s leg and let it fly away, watching it disappear around the castle walls. John pulled on his old quidditch robes and went down to breakfast alone, carrying his broom along with him. The Great Hall was almost empty again since everyone was still sleeping in. He briefly looked up to see if Sherlock was there, but his seat was empty. Snape was there though, looking as bitter as usual. It was times like this when he had no trouble imagining Snape setting a creature loose to paralyze students. When he was done with breakfast John walked alone to the quidditch pitch, broom in hand. He took off in the slope outside the castle, thinking as long as he was alone he mine as well fly around the grounds. He rose higher and higher, watching the ground get smaller. The morning wind was blowing his sandy hair off of his forehead as he swooped like a bird through the multiple towers of the castle, carefully avoiding any collisions. He could see mini statues under him, when in real life they towered over top. That’s why he loved flying; he was above everyone for once, and not looking up at them. He flew through the smoke of Hagrid’s hut, brushed the trees of the forbidden forest, and created ripples in the lake. He felt so free, if he wanted to he could just leave, but no matter how much homework he had he would never leave the castle, nothing could compare to this place. When he noticed a steady line of ant like people walking towards the pitch, he descended into the middle of it, landing on the ground safe and sound. The students ended up being from all houses; he spotted Leo and Al walking in, some Slytherins to his disgust, a group of Hufflepuffs, and one or two Ravenclaws. John didn’t see his friends yet, so he flew around with Al and Leo until finally he saw the three missing Gryffindors walking in. He landed next to them smiling.
“How long have you been out here?” Greg asked.
“A while, I flew around the grounds a little bit.” John shrugged. “Oh, and I got a letter from Sherlock, he’s looking into his theory more and trying to find out what type of monster is in there. I told I’ll be there after quidditch, and not to go poking around the school by himself, just in case.”
“He’s looking for the Chamber?” Sara asked in disbelief.
“Apparently.”
“That’s not smart, we have no idea what’s down there!” Mike pointed out.
“He said he’ll only look if he’s positive of what’s down there.”
“He’ll still be unprepared.”
“Greg and Mike told me about what happened last night, he thinks its Snape?” Sara asked in disbelief.
“It makes sense; I have to give him that.” John shrugged.
“I was way too tired to care if it made sense or not.” Greg groaned.
“I’m glad he didn’t come up to tell me in the middle of the night, it would’ve scared the other girls out of their minds.” Sara laughed.
“It scared Rory and Sam out of their minds, they thought the wrong thing, obviously.” Mike laughed.
“I was scared too, I woke up after a nightmare and I just saw two eyes above me, so I punched him, I thought he was there to kill me!”
“Why would Sherlock kill you?” Mike asked.
“I didn’t know it was Sherlock!” John defended.
“Their starting, we should probably jump in.” Greg pointed out, mounting his broom and flying into the air. The other three followed, joining in on the game, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff against Slytherin and Ravenclaw, which was kind of difficult considering there were two keepers, two seekers, eight beaters, and twelve chasers, so it was a big mess. The Slytherins and Ravenclaws were up 80-20 when John spotted the snitch, swooping down next to the stands and clenching the small golden ball in his hand, winning the game, yet again, for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. There was some cheering, and the teams, all except Slytherin, shook hands and congratulated each other. John looked around the stands to see one spectator. From here he could only make out the silhouette, tall, thin, sitting up straight.
“He’s here.” John muttered to Greg. He mounted his broom again and flew up to the stands, where Sherlock sat, watching him approach. John didn’t dare to land on the stands, so he just hovered near.
“I’m guessing you didn’t find out the monster?” John asked.
“No, I’m completely stumped, I don’t know, and I don’t like not knowing.” Sherlock said, a little bit pouty.
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough.” John said with an encouraging smile. Even though he was troubled, Sherlock smiled back at John. “How about a ride?” John asked.
“On a broom?” Sherlock asked uncertainly.
“Yes, of course on a broom, I don’t really have Hippogriff.” John sighed.
“I’ll crash and burn.” Sherlock pointed out.
“Not if I’m in control, come on.” John assured, scooching up on the broom to leave space for Sherlock, who just looked at him with curiosity.
“Then I’ll kill you too.”
“No you won’t, come on.” John said, hovering closer. Sherlock looked around to make sure no one was watching, everyone had gone back to the castle, and stood up.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.” Sherlock stood on the bleacher seat to get level with John, and jumped onto the broom, holding onto John for dear life.
“You good?” John asked. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John in order to stay on, which made John tingly again. He smelled again like he would normally smell, musty, but it was the best sent in the world.
“Hold on!” John said, and shot into the air. Sherlock’s scream made him feel a bit deaf, and his grip tightened, almost strangling John.
“It’s okay Sherlock; we’re only three feet up!” John assured, laughing.
“Still enough to kill yourself if you land on your head!” Sherlock pointed out. John rolled his eyes and shot forward, feeling Sherlock burying his head in John’s shoulder, shutting his eyes so he could only feel the wind rushing past.
“Sherlock it’s okay, we stopped, again.” John said. Sherlock lifted his head to look around, the grass was so far down, he was terrified, but so far he hasn’t fallen off.
“Okay…” Sherlock muttered. John flew forward again, not as fast as usual, but enough to make the professor tighten his grip again.
“Sherlock you’re going to strangle me!” John said.
“Sorry.” Sherlock said, loosening his grip now. They were still flying slowly, only a couple of feet up.
“Okay how about this, were ever you want to go, you lean that way, you’re in control.” John decided. Sherlock sighed, but nodded. Thinking how much he wanted to go back, he leaned backwards, making the broom do a backwards flip in the air. Sherlock screamed like a mad man, holding on to John as a life line, his legs around John’s and his arms around John’s chest. His head was once again buried in John’s shoulder. John straightened the broom out, laughing at Sherlock, who was still screaming.
“It’s okay Sherlock!” John assured, not being able to ignore how much the two were intertwined.
“I want to go down John.” Sherlock begged, not taking his head out.
“Okay, we’re going to have to slant a little to go down, so hold on.” John warned. He tilted the broom down and descended slowly, landing on the grass softly. Sherlock scrambled of before John could fly off again, unfortunately taking John with him, both landing on the grass along with the broom.
“You’re mad!” Sherlock exclaimed, even though he was smiling.
“But you did it, and you’re not dead!” John pointed out, getting up and brushing the damp grass off of him. Sherlock remained where he was, enjoying the solid ground, where he couldn’t fall and split his head open.
“Never again.” Sherlock muttered.
“You’ll get better, trust me.” John assured.
“No I won’t.”
“I thought I’d never make a good potion, but I think I did pretty well with that.” John pointed out.
“You can’t die making a potion.” Sherlock protested.
“Oh yes you can!”
“Not as violently as flying.”
“Come on, get up.” John said, holding out a hand for him to get up. Sherlock got up by himself though, brushing the grass off of him. “Let’s go do research, the most dangerous thing is a paper cut.”
“You obviously haven’t had a book drop on your foot.” Sherlock laughed, following John out of the pitch to the castle. When they got there, John had to drop his stuff off and change into his regular robes, so Sherlock talked to Greg, Mike, and Sara in the common room as he waited. When John returned Sherlock was sitting in a chair and watching the fire as Greg, Mike, and Sara were talking to each other, so John guessed that Sherlock had given up on conversation.
“Ready?” John asked, making Sherlock jump.
“Yep.” He said, getting out of the chair.
“What took you guys so long?” Sara asked.
“I took him flying.” John said, with a glare that said I’ll tell you later. The five of them walked down to the library together, once again being stared down by Madam Pince, and retreated to the back of the library.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Mike asked.
“We need to find out Snape’s blood type, to see if he’s the heir.”
“Oh come on, he has to be pureblood, the way he acts.” Sara said.
“I’m pretty sure he’s pureblood too, I mean, he’s the head of Slytherin and their obsessed with pureblood.” John agreed.
“Okay, fine, but we still don’t know what type of monster is in there.” Sherlock pointed out.
“What do we know then?” Greg asked.
“We know that it can kill and paralyze then, and that Snape can control it. We also know that it can sneak around the castle undetected, somehow, maybe invisibility?” Sherlock said.
“An invisible monster doesn’t sound too good.” Mike decided.
“It could be something like a werewolf that Snape is an animagus, he turns into the monster.” Greg guessed. Sherlock looked impressed.
“That’s actually a really good theory.” Sherlock said, making Greg look proud. “Let’s get monster books then, something that people can animagusize.”
“Is that even a word?” John asked.
“No idea.” Sherlock admitted. They searched the library for any books that contained anything on monsters and animagus, and when they were done they had a very good pile of books stacked on the table. Sherlock picked up the biggest book, one on all sorts of monsters. He flipped through the pages, looking through all of the monster drawings and descriptions. John and the rest flipped through other books, not finding any potential suspects.
“Here we go, an invisible monster, the Rakshasa.” Sherlock announced. John looked over his shoulder into the big book. There was a weird drawing of a creature, which kind of looked like a human but obviously wasn’t.
“The Rakshasa are invisible monsters that can only enter a building when invited, they can turn invisible, and prey on human flesh. What do you think?” Sherlock asked.
“No, if it preyed on human flesh the girl would be eaten.” John pointed out.
“True. Anything on animagus?” Sherlock asked Greg and Sara, who had been flipping through one of those books.
“Nothing much, it says that animaguses can sometimes be monsters, nothing too extreme though because you’re technically not born with the power.” Greg muttered. Sherlock groaned and kept flipping through. John had a small monster book, but nothing seemed possible. The drawings were cool though, some of the creatures that actually exist scared him a lot, like the giant spiders, basilisk, and dragons. Muggles think they are just myths, but what do muggles know; to them there is a fairy that collects teeth. John smiled to himself, remembering when he believed in those ridiculous things, fairies don’t steal teeth. He finished the book, closing it and putting it on the table with the rest. Sherlock snapped his book shut and put it on the table too, unsuccessful as well.
“Well, what do you think?” Mike asked.
“I don’t think anything for once, what type of monster could possibly be living in this school?” Sherlock groaned, ruffling his hair in frustration, which made John stare a little bit.
“I have no idea, maybe it’s just someone pranking everyone and paralyzing with a spell.” Sara suggested.
“That’s not out of the question.” Sherlock shrugged.
“That girl, fifty years ago, she was found in a bathroom?” John asked.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s have Sara go poking around in the girl’s bathrooms to see which one it is.” John suggested.
“No way, I am not going to look for some Chamber of Secrets by myself!” Sara protested.
“We can’t go with you, what are we supposed to do?” Greg asked.
“Wait for night time when no one will be there, then go looking.” She suggested.
“You want us to break into a girl’s bathroom?” Mike asked uncertainly.
“Well, that means all of us can go.” Sherlock pointed out.
“You’re actually okay with this?” John asked in amazement.
“You’re not?”
“No! I don’t want to get caught, we’re already in some trouble!”
“We’re not in trouble for breaking curfew.” Sherlock pointed out.
“Still, if for some reason we get split up and McGonagall catches me and you wandering around in the halls alone she’ll drag us strait to Dumbledore!”
“Then don’t split up.” Mike pointed out.
“You’re okay with this!?” John asked.
“We’ve broken curfew a couple of times, remember that.” Greg said. John looked around; he was the only one that hated this idea, hopelessly out numbered.
“Fine.” He mumbled.