“Good, eleven o’clock by the statue of Godric Gryffindor.” Sherlock decided.
“When we get caught I’m blaming you.” John pointed out, looking at Sherlock accusingly. Sherlock smiled innocently at him, and John found it hard to stay mad at him. They split up again, Sherlock going back to his office and the four students going to do their History of Magic essays. John sat at a table, his book open in front of him, scribbling down anything that made sense under the topic. John hated homework, it was such a waste of precious time, he could be out there flying, or taking a walk with Sherlock, but instead he was trapped indoors, his brain pounding with the effort of the essay. When it was finally done, he looked at the clock, 4 o’clock, that’s why he was so grumpy, they had skipped lunch! There wouldn’t be any food out now, the house elves must be preparing dinner right now. John’s stomach growled at the thought, but he ignored it and rolled up the parchment. It took Greg, Mike, and Sara another ten minutes. No matter what he said, John was the smartest of the group, it was quite obvious. They waited for dinner by watching some sixth years play exploding snap, and when five o’clock rolled around they left for the Great Hall, starving. The hall was almost empty when they got there, some staff was there, and maybe one or two kids, but that was it. They loaded up their plates as if they hadn’t eaten in days, which was what it felt like right now. John looked for Sherlock in the staff table, but, as he guessed, he was absent. He was still a little bit nervous, he has broken curfew a couple of times, but just to meet up with friends and pretend to be rebellious, they were never caught except by a Nearly Headless Nick, who just told them to go back to bed, yawning loudly so his head had flopped off. Apparently they were going to be breaking into the girls bathrooms to look for clues or something? The death had happened fifty years ago, there won’t be any clues! Their only chance was if she was a ghost then she could talk to them, but most ghosts didn’t like the students, they were jealous that they were still alive. When dinner was over, the four sat in the common room and waited for eleven o’clock. They were silent, hoping that a teacher wouldn’t come out and give them all detention, plus they had quidditch tryouts the next day and they had to get sleep, or else they’ll fall off of their brooms. The common room slowly emptied out, and when the last person finally left they snuck out of the portrait hole, the fat lady didn’t care, she was sleeping. When they got to the statue of Godric Gryffindor they saw an impatient Sherlock sitting on it, watching them approach.
“About time!” He exclaimed.
“Sorry, we had to wait for some kids leave.” Sara said.
“Sherlock, what are we even doing here, this is the second night in a row I’m exhausted and we’ve got quidditch, so hurry up.” John complained. Sherlock frowned at him.
“Well, we have to find clues to were the Chamber is.” Sherlock said.
“You think the Chamber is in the bathroom?” Mike asked.
“The girl was found in a bathroom fifty years ago, but ours was found in a hallway, so it doesn’t go into the rooms because it’s too big, if it’s in the bathroom it can just go through the pipes to attack people!” Sherlock said proudly.
“You are way too smart.” Greg decided, making Sherlock smile proudly. The halls were still light, but it seemed darker without light from the windows. John keep checking if anyone was around, the teachers didn’t regularly check the halls for kids, but if one was wandering around this late there would be trouble.
“Which one first?” John asked.
“The closest one.” Sherlock said with a smile. They wandered around, following Sara’s directions to the girl’s bathroom. It was locked for the night, but with a tap of his wand Sherlock got the door to open. There were no lights in there, so they lit their wands to see. It looked like a regular bathroom, definitely not a hiding place for a deadly monster, whatever it was.
“Sherlock, if the entrance is in a girl’s bathroom, does that mean Snape has to go in one?” John asked. Sherlock snorted, but nodded.
“Apparently.” The blue light lit the place, rather eerily. John looked around, checking the walls for cracks where a door could open, but there wasn’t much. The bathroom was smaller than most, so it didn’t look too suspicious.
“Nothing here.” Sherlock decided. He opened the door, herding them all out before locking it behind him. They made sure the hall was empty, and then moved onto the other bathrooms. All searches were unsuccessful, the bathrooms were totally normal, but Sherlock was determined that something lay in the ground, waiting for them to wander in and be killed.
“This is a waste of time.” Mike complained as they made their way to another bathroom.
“Ya, it’s getting late, we’ve got quidditch tomorrow Sherlock, we should really go back.” John agreed. Sherlock looked disappointed, but even his best puppy eyes could change John’s mind.
“Come on guys.” Sara said, leading the way down the hall to the common room. Mike and Greg followed obediently, but John hung back a little bit.
“I’m sorry Sherlock, but we really need our sleep, maybe tomorrow night?” John asked.
“No, I have to teach remember, only on weekends.” Sherlock said.
“Then next weekend, I don’t want to give up on this though, I’m just as interested as you are.”
“Then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I hope so.” John agreed. They stood there a bit awkwardly, John wanted to give him a hug or something to say goodbye, a small kiss maybe? “Bye Sherlock.” He decided, following his friends down the hall. They went straight to bed after, being as quiet as they could to not wake up Rory and Sam. They didn’t even change into their pajamas, John was so tired the moment his head touched the pillow he fell into a deep sleep.

                John woke up late, having slept a lot longer than he predicted. The rest of the boys were gone, which made him curse them for not bothering to wake him up as well. He jumped out of bed, pulling on his robes and stuffing everything he could need for the day into his bag, running down through the empty common room to breakfast. When he got there his friends were just finishing, Greg taking his final bite of toast.
“John where were you?” Sara asked.
“Sleeping! Why didn’t you guys wake me up?” He asked.
“We didn’t want to disturb you, after breakfast we would’ve come and gotten you, it was a long night.” Mike explained.
“I’m late because of you idiots!” he exclaimed, sitting down and dumping a pancake on his plate.
“Sorry, its quidditch, so we thought you needed your sleep.” Greg said.
“Thanks for your concern.” He said sarcastically. He didn’t bother looking for Sherlock, he ate his pancake in record time and the four joined the flow of people heading for their morning classes. John didn’t know the schedule, he didn’t look, but he followed them down the grounds to Herbology, greenhouse three again.  Professor Sprout was waiting for them, in her usual dirt covered pink apron. There were potted plants, one for each pair of students, sitting on the tables, but they didn’t move and didn’t seem dangerous at all. There were also earmuffs, which didn’t make any sense considering there was no sound.
“Good morning class!” Professor Sprout said cheerily. “Today we will be working with Mandrakes, now, can anyone tell me what a Mandrake is?” The class was silent; everyone looked at the seemingly harmless plants with confusion. “A Mandrake is a root, whose scream is fatal to anyone who hears it. Thankfully these are young, so they won’t kill you, but they will knock you out for several hours. The Mandrakes, when crushed up, have healing power to bring paralyzed people back to their normal selves. These Mandrakes are out growing their pots, so we will be repotting them today, so you’ll need your dragon hide gloves, a bigger pot from that stack, and some soil.” She instructed. There was a rush to get the supplies; thankfully John and Greg were working right next to them so he didn’t have to go very far. When everyone had what they needed, Professor Sprout told them all to get a pair of earmuffs, which they did.
“Now, grip the Mandrake near the roots, and pull straight up, and then stick it back in the dirt and spread the soil around on top. Put your earmuffs on, and hold them on, this could get a bit loud.” She warned. John put his on as well as everyone around him, and Professor Sprout pulled a Mandrake out of the soil. Where the root should’ve been was a large, ugly, root baby by the looks of it. It had beady black eyes and seemed to be screaming at the top of its lungs. John held his earmuffs down on his ears, not very keen to listen to the screaming. Sprout jammed the baby thing into another pot, larger this time, and spread a lot of soil around it, giving the thumbs up to take the earmuffs off.
“And that my dears, was how to repot a Mandrake. Everyone get a plant, and do as I did, remember to wear your earmuffs!” She added. John and Greg looked at the innocent looking plant, knowing the horrors it contained. They had a silent argument about who would do the actual repotting, and Greg won, so John gripped the plant near the roots, bracing himself for the screams that would come. Greg nodded encouragingly, and he pulled up. The baby thing was even worse up close, he could hear the muffled screaming, and it was a lot heavier than it looked. He winced and looked away, it smelled horrible, like dirt and worms, and stuffed it in the pot. But Greg hadn’t done his part of clearing a hole, so it sat on top, wiggling its little arms in protest. John lifted it back up and Greg cleared the hole, so John stuffed the Mandrake in and covered it with dirt. He sighed, looking at the small lump in the soil were the top of the head would be sticking out. Greg shrugged, and John agreed, it was fine to him. The rest of the class was just getting finished, brushing the dirt over the tops of the plants. When everyone was done, Professor Sprout gave them all thumbs up, saying it was safe to take the earmuffs off. John put his on the table and sighed, rubbing his ears to get the faint screeching out. All of the other people’s Mandrakes were no better than theirs; there were a lot of heads still sticking out.
“Good job class, clean up and then you’re free to go.” Sprout said. They put away the empty pots and brushed up the spilled dirt, meeting up with Sara and Mike outside.
“They looked a bit like Jim didn’t they?” Greg asked, making the group laugh.
“They were horrible.” John decided.
“They weren’t that bad.” Greg shrugged.
“You didn’t have to pick them up and repot them!” John defended.
“Mike didn’t either; I had to do it while he watched.” Sara complained.
“I dug the soil around!” Mike defended.
“Definitely not enough!” she insisted.
“What do we have next?” John asked.
“Ancient Ruins.” Greg said, groaning.
“At least it’s not divination.” Sara pointed out. Mike looked at John for a little bit, eyes wide.
“You’re going to die an untimely death when a vampire drop kicks you off of a hippogriff!” he exclaimed, jumping back a little. The group laughed, that Professor had serious problems.
“Poor John.” Greg sighed. They walked through the halls to the class room, where they spent the class looking at pictures of old rocks and crumbling buildings, trying to figure out who left them there, if magic was used in the process, and what they meant. John hated this class, he didn’t care about any of that, they were just rocks! When they finally got out of the class, they headed to lunch thankfully.
“Miserable.” Greg groaned.
“What’s after lunch?” John asked.
“Potions, you get to see your boyfriend.” Sara said in a mocking tone. John tried not to smile.
“And then?”
“History of Magic, hope you did your homework.” Mike said.
“I hope I did mine right, it was so confusing with all of those rubbish goblin names.” Greg complained.
“The human names weren’t much better!” John pointed out.
“At least there wasn’t one called Urg the Unclean!” Greg defended. They entered the Great Hall, hit with the sudden noise of people talking. Sherlock wasn’t sitting in the staff table, so he probably skipped lunch, it wasn’t very surprising. They sat in the Gryffindor table with all of the other Gryffindors, taking sandwiches and chips from the platters on the table.
“So, ready for quidditch?” John asked.
“I hope the captains not mean.” Greg said sarcastically.
“I heard he was worse than Snape.” Sara said in a loud whisper.
“No, but really, are you ready?” John asked.
“Yes.” They all said.
“It seems like we’ll have a good team this year, with Kathrine, Al, and Leo, and with you guys of course, we might have a chance for the cup.” John said hopefully.
“I heard the Slytherin team is just as good though.” Mike warned.
“Do you know if Jim is playing this year?”
“I think he’s a beater, I didn’t see him yet though.” Greg said. John groaned, all he needed was Jim hitting bludgers at him.
“We’ll get to them first though.” Greg added.
“I can always count on you.” Sara said sarcastically.
“Of course you can.” Greg said with a smile. Mike flicked a small ball of sandwich bread at him, hitting him in the cheek and making the rest of them laugh. Greg sneered at him, but didn’t dare start a food fight when the teachers were staring down at them.
“You’ll be a good captain right?” Sara asked uncertainly.
“Of course not, McGonagall must have been crazy.” John laughed.
“Ya, a bit.” Greg agreed.
“You’re not supposed to agree with him!” Mike laughed. John frowned dramatically, as if Greg had just crushed all of his hopes and dreams.
“You’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Greg assured. They left the Great Hall for the dungeons, where the Slytherins were already waiting. John and his friends tried to stay as far away as possible, they were doing very good at avoiding Jim so far, and this shouldn’t be the day they broke the good record. The door banged open and Snape stood, scowling as usual, down at the students. Jim flashed John a warning glare, and led the way into the classroom. John and Greg went to their usual seats, taking out their potions kits. Sherlock sat at his desk as usual, feet on the floor for once, writing something down with a quill. He looked up to see John, smiled at him, and went back to whatever he was writing.
“Instructions are on the board.” Snape hissed, taking a seat behind his desk and started grading papers or something. The potion was simple today, just a cure for the common cold. John and Greg did their best, but it was, once again, a little bit off color. He didn’t have Sherlock’s book to help him, if the directions were on the board and Snape noticed the book it would be a little bit suspicious. Sherlock got up and wandered around the classroom, checking everyone’s potions and stopping to help for some. John looked at Jim and Irene uncertainly, but they were working on the potion without noticing him, so maybe they weren’t going to ruin his life yet. On the topic of ruining his life, his werewolf day was approaching; Thursday as soon as the moonlight came out John would turn painfully into a mindless beast, again. He hated himself for being as stupid as to get bitten by the bloody thing, he hated himself for not telling his friends, and he hated himself for being what he was.
“Looking okay.” Sherlock said, looking into the caldron.
“A bit discolored.” John shrugged, trying not to look like a complete idiot in front of Sherlock.
“Just a bit more Lacewing fly and it should help it along.” Sherlock advised. John nervously picked a bit of the fly out of the container and added it, making the potion turn a proper shade of blue.
“That’s not cheating is it?” John asked uncertainly.
“No, it’s helping, I’ve helped a lot of students, it’s my job.” Sherlock assured.
“Snape might not think so.”
“If he has a problem, then he can tell me, but right now he’s not paying any attention.” Sherlock said calmly.
“Sherlock, does he know?”
“About what?”
“About, us?” John asked.
“No, I don’t think so, not yet at least, McGonagall was a pretty good secret keeper I guess.” Sherlock said with a smile. Sherlock moved on to another table, looking at the potion and saying something that John couldn’t hear.
“Snape doesn’t know yet?” Greg asked in disbelief.
“If Snape did know I’d be strung up by my neck!” John pointed out.
“McGonagall is the only professor who knows then? Her and that pack of girls. Why haven’t they told anyone?”
“Maybe they’re scared you’ll come after them.”
“I doubt it.” John huffed. “I just hope Snape doesn’t find out.”
“Then stay low, don’t make good potions and try not to flirt too much with Sherlock.”
“I don’t flirt with Sherlock!” John protested. Greg looked at him with amusement.
“The way you two look at each other and smile, when he comes over here your voice goes up a pitch and you get really fidgety, he does too.” Greg said.
“That’s not flirting.”
“Yes it is.” Greg assured. John smiled innocently, watching Sherlock move from table to table.
“Whatever you say, I mean, you are the expert Mr. you’re still single.” John said, laughing. Greg rolled his eyes and went back to the potion, which was almost done. A little bit more Leech juice and it turned a little bit darker blue, but acceptable. They put it in a flask and Greg put it up onto Snape’s desk along with all of the other ones.
“Good luck at quidditch you guys, I know you’ll do great.” Sherlock said as they were packing up.
“Thanks.” Greg said.
“After we might have time to fly around.” John said with a sarcastic smile.
“I’ll pass, the last time I almost killed both of us.” Sherlock said guiltily.
“Yet here we stand.” John pointed out. Greg looked very confused, and John realized he had never told his friends what had happened after quidditch practice.
“I’ll see you guys around I guess.” Sherlock said, smiling.
“Bye Sherlock.” John agreed, following Greg out the door and meeting with Sara and Mike outside the door.
“I guess they didn’t have the guts after all.” Mike decided.
“You never told us about what happened after quidditch Saturday!” Greg pointed out.
“Sorry, must have slipped my mind with all the sneaking around we were doing.” John said.
“Well, what did happen?” Sara asked impatiently.
“I let him ride on my broom with me, since he can’t fly on his own.”
“And….”
“And I tried to let him in control and he flipped the broom backwards.” John shrugged.
“I bet he was holding onto you right?” Sara asked.
“If he didn’t he’d fall off.” John pointed out.
“That’s it?” Greg asked.
“It really wasn’t that interesting.” John admitted. They made their way to History of Magic, Sara talking about some drama that was going on; they weren’t really paying attention of course. The class was terribly boring, taught in the same tone and stood in the same place as the year before. It turns out John’s essay was acceptable, which was surprising since he didn’t do much with it. Greg failed his, of course, he didn’t even try, but it didn’t seem to bother him much. When the class was over they went up to the common room to change into their quidditch robes and get their brooms, and then they made their way down to the Great Hall. The quidditch team all sat together, along with other people that were trying out for the first time this year. They joined the pack, which was nervously eating a little bit and not talking much.
“Everyone ready?” John asked as nicely as possible.  They mumbled nervous answers, most claiming that they were, some of them saying that they weren’t. John himself was nervous, even though he knew he’d make the team, he didn’t want to crush a lot of these players’ hopes of being on the team. There weren’t many, but it was still too many people to be on a team. It was his responsibility, as captain, to make the best team out of the players he had, but they already had a fantastic team. The other House’s tryouts were spread out across the week, which worried him because he’d have to sneak into the forbidden forest before the moon came up, and if people were around they might get suspicious, maybe follow him in to see what was going on, curiosity killed the cat, but in this case it was a student getting eaten by a werewolf. When dinner was over, John and the other seventh years led the students down to the quidditch pitch, brooms in hand. A couple of students came down to watch, mostly Gryffindors but some from other houses coming to cheer their friends on. When they got there, John lined the students up by year, second years to the left, seventh to the right. First years weren’t allowed to play quidditch, it was too dangerous or something like that. John thought that was rubbish, he could have been a perfect seeker if he was allowed to play. There were maybe twenty kids, and only seven were on a quidditch team, so there would definitely be cuts. 
“Okay, welcome to the quidditch pitch!” John said awkwardly. The light chatter stopped immediately leaving him on the spot. “I’m John Watson, the Gryffindor captain this year, I’m also the seeker. How about we just go down the line and tell everyone their names and positions they are trying out for.” John said. They did as they were told, John already forgot about most of the names, but was thankful there weren’t any seekers trying out.
“I assume you all know how to play quidditch right?” John asked. They all nodded, which was good, he wouldn’t have to go through all of the rules and stuff, which was miserable. “Okay, then let’s get in the air and just throw the quaffle around in a circle.” He instructed. Everyone mounted their brooms and shot into the air, a red and gold blur. John joined them, looking around to see if anyone didn’t look comfortable on the brooms. Everyone looked good, and Mike had the quaffle, so they made a wide circle and just passed it around a bit. A couple of times someone would drop it, or throw too weakly. John was able to swoop down and get it before it hit the ground, which made the team clap for some reason. When they were done with that they did a couple of laps on their brooms, the beaters got bats and hit the bludgers around, the chasers shot on the keepers, and John just observed. Everyone looked good, one or two of them had no chance of making the team, but for the most time it seemed like he had a lot of difficult decisions to make. They split up into teams and had a little scrimmage against each other, no seekers since John was the only one and he had to observe. Mike was obviously the better goalie, a girl he didn’t know seemed like a good beater, maybe better than Leo but definitely not as good as Greg. The chasers were decent, but it seemed as though the old team would stick together there. Team one won, 100-80, and 100 being the stopping point in the match since there was no snitch to end it. They all landed their brooms in a circle, tired but relieved that tryouts were over.
“Everyone did very well, congrats to team one,” They cheered, “And results should be posted in the common room by Saturday at the latest.” John said. They all said good job and goodbye, all walking to the castle together. John and his friends stayed behind to collect the balls and clean up the field.
“Well, how’d I do?” Sara asked as she put the quaffle in the quidditch trunk.
“I can’t tell you, results aren’t posted yet.” John teased. Sara rolled her eyes, taking the beater bats from Greg and putting them in as well. The bludgers were already in there, if they had been loose they would’ve killed everyone when they were talking.
“So, are you going to see Sherlock anytime soon?” Mike asked.
“I don’t have time, I’ll have to make drills and put the team together.” John said.
“Well one night wouldn’t kill you!” Greg pointed out.
“No, but it would get me off track.” John said. He took one handle of the trunk and Greg took the other, together lugging it up the grounds to Madam Hooch’s office, Mike and Sara chatting meaninglessly behind them somewhere.
“What do you think then?” Greg asked.
“You guys will definitely make the team, but that other beater, I don’t know his name, seemed to be better than Leo.”
“Leo has been playing for years, you can’t cut him seventh year!” Greg debated.
“I know, maybe I’ll have the other one as an extra or something.” John shrugged.
“I don’t want them to think you’re showing favoritism.”
“I’m not, you guys are obviously the best players.”
“Ya, we are.” Greg said with a sarcastic smile.
“Well, I actually think I might have to cut you Greg, you’ve really lost your game.” John joked, pushing him with the trunk. They dropped the trunk off at the office, going back to the common room and sitting in the chairs in front of the fire. The rest of the quidditch team was sitting nervously at the tables, disguising the tryouts and casting nervous glares at John.
“They must think I’m some type of soul crushing monster.” John huffed.
“England doesn’t need more of them.” Greg laughed.
“We’ve already got Snape filling that position.” Sara said.
“And Moffatt.” Mike pointed out. They all sneered at the name.
“I’m going to bed, I’m beat.” John decided, mid yawn. He said goodnight to the others and walked up to the dormitory alone. Once he changed and got into bed he started trying to make up the team again in his head, but he couldn’t without a roster in front of him. He knew he wanted his friends on the team, and they all deserved to be there, but he was also afraid it would be showing favoritism, even if it was the right choice. He felt so guilty cutting people; he wanted to have all of them as extras no matter how terrible they were at the sport. But this year’s team had to be perfect, it was most of the team’s last year, the last time they could win the cup for McGonagall, but it would take work and sacrifice. Once matches started they were practicing every day, except on Sundays, which would probably be the only day he could see Sherlock. John sighed, he didn’t want to have to limit his time with him, every time he saw Sherlock his heart flipped and he felt amazing, knowing someone so perfect actually liked him was a huge accomplishment, after the years dragging on waiting for Mary to actually talk to him, it took less than a week to kiss Sherlock. In a way, Mary not knowing he existed was perfect, if they were a couple going into seventh year that would have been so much more difficult. He’d have to dump her, because he would, without a thought, for Sherlock and then it would go public. John wondered once more why the girls weren’t blabbing about this twenty four seven, it was all very confusing. Girls talk about everything, they don’t care if it’s supposed to be a secret, their job wasn’t complete if not everyone in the school knew about something. He wondered what the school would do when the found out, McGonagall had been quite alright with it, he wondered if maybe everyone else would when they figured out it was actual love, and not some stupid  ‘oh you’re cute lets go out’ thing that all of the other girls did. John still didn’t know what he was going to tell his friends about Thursday, they had no idea about what he was, he wasn’t ready to tell them, he hadn’t told his parents for a couple of months until they started asking why he had to go to the woods every month. They took it terribly, they wanted to go to the hospital, but they’d all be thrown in strait jackets if they asked what cured a werewolf. The answer was nothing, both Wizard and Muggle doctors had no cure. John didn’t care much about the disappearance, even if people found out, he cared more about biting people and cursing them to be like him forever. He often wondered who had bitten him, obviously it had been a person from the castle, but they were gone before he woke up in the woods, robes ripped to almost shreds, that was the worst part, he had to walk up to the castle in the early morning, trying his best to mend his clothes with magic, but he went through robes so quickly, if he had time he would take them off before the moon came out fully, no one was around anyway and if they were they’d have bigger problems on their hands. His worst nightmare was changing into a wolf in public, unprepared, maybe sitting in the common room and butchering all of his friends, and if they had survived they’d never go back to being friends with him, he’d have to be secluded for the rest of his life, unable to find a job because no one wants to hire a werewolf that hadn’t finished seventh year of Hogwarts. John’s dream was to be an auror, but he needed top marks, which was difficult. So far he’s shown success in everything except potions, he could do nonverbal spells, he was brave to a degree, and he wanted to rid the world of bad wizards, ones who used their powers for evil. He knew it sounded so cliché, but there were always one or two people that go bad, the wrong person at the trigger of a gun, the lunatic that picks up the kitchen knife, a cold soul that gets a Hogwarts letter. The door opened and light flooded into the darkness in a line, and Sam and Rory came in, attempting to be quiet, but failing miserably. When they were finally in their pajamas and in bed, the candle that had been lit was blown out; the room was silent and dark. But then Mike and Greg came in, and the routine was done over again, when finally all of the boys were in bed, the candle was blown out and darkness returned, helping John fall asleep.