SuperPotterLock- The Philosopher's Stone

The Man With Two Faces

They had all been sitting outside the door for half an hour now. Ron was snoring softly but everyone else sat alert, too worried to do anything otherwise. Suddenly, the door banged open and Dumbledore appeared, carrying an unconscious Harry in his arms. They heard the faint sound of a harp playing before the door was slammed shut again. Hermione and John jumped up but Dumbledore had already rushed past them, his silver hair whipping behind him. Sherlock shook Ron awake.

'Ron, let's go,' he said.

'Where do you think he's taking him?' John wondered.

'He didn't look in great condition, so I'd say the hospital wing,' Sherlock said, so tired that he didn't even have the energy to point out that it was obvious. They creaked to their feet, yawning, and made their way down to the hall. The windows showed the lightening sky outside, but they didn't stop to admire the rising sun, stumbling along to the hospital and getting there just as Dumbledore was closing the door behind him. He looked grave.

'Sir?' Ron said tentatively.

'Harry is in bad condition. You may visit him in a few hours if you wish,' Dumbledore told them. 'Look at you all, you're dead on your feet. I give the two of you permission to sleep in Gryffindor Tower tonight- it's closer. You've all been very brave, but now you need some rest.'

'Yes, sir,' they mumbled. He smiled and rushed off. All of them, Sherlock in particular, would have objected and demanded to know what was going on with Harry, but as it was they could barely stand up. So they trudged back up to Gryffindor Tower where they found two makeshift beds in the common room for Castiel and Sherlock, which they collapsed into immediately. Ron, John and Hermione hardly made it up to the dormitories.

A few hours passed until it became impossible to ignore the rest of the Gryffindors getting up for breakfast and grudgingly followed them down to breakfast.

'Sherlock, your buttons are done up wrong,' John said as they sat down.

'What?'

'Your buttons,' he said, pointing at Sherlock's shirt. He looked down at them blearily. He grunted indistinctly and put his head in his hands, feeling a migraine coming on. The rest of them weren't much better off either, Ron had already dunked his tie in his bowl of cereal twice, Hermione dozing off on his shoulder and Castiel was sat unnaturally straight, face pale. John was by far the perkiest of them all, having had far more experience with lack of sleep. No one said anything outright yet, but people were already whispering about Harry's absence. The first ones to ask were the Weasley twins. They sidled up either side of Ron and said in hushed voices, 'Is it true you took on McGonagall's giant chess set?'

'How'd you know?' Ron demanded.

'We heard McGonagall talking to Flitwick. Apparently you were really good,' said George.

'I wasn't bad,' Ron blushed.

'So, what happened to Harry?' asked Fred.

'Dunno. We're going to see him later.'

'Let us know, eh?'

They grinned and went back to Lee Jordan to recount what Ron had said. The post arrived in the usual flurry of feathers, accompanied by Castiel's usual flinch. Sherlock looked up and saw, once again, an owl gliding towards them with a letter addressed to Castiel. Suddenly an idea flashed through Sherlock's head. Enough was enough, he thought. He stood up, aimed his wand and said, 'Finite Incantatem.' He reached up and grabbed it, a triumphant smirk on his face. Lucy, Gabriel, Mycroft and the Hufflepuff Head Girl all stood up at once. Sherlock unfolded the letter and scanned the parchment. The hall had fallen silent and the students were all staring at the five people that were standing. Sherlock chuckled.