The weeks passed along quickly, classes as insufferable as usual, but as Christmas grew nearer everyone's spirits seemed to rise. Umbridge was still staring down at them from the staff table and in class, but she had nothing to go on anymore. Since Mycroft was spending more public time with Anthea  (much to Greg's disgust) Umbridge was letting Greg play in the quidditch matches. She still had no idea about the relationship between John and Sherlock, and to be fair neither did John. Nothing happened between them since the whole hand-holding ordeal under the tree, but even though they showed no signs of affection every word directed to one another made a blush appear in Sherlock's pale cheeks. John sort of wished for an opportunity to either talk to or even kiss Sherlock again, but whenever they had alone time Sherlock always insisted on talking about Christmas holidays or the upcoming rebellion. The flyers had gone up in the dorms now, Mycroft convinced a particularly ambitious Slytherin first year to sneak one into the seventh year dorms. They didn't get any direct feedback yet, which was good because it couldn't be traced back to them, but in the halls sometimes John heard snippets of conversation between other people. Sometimes it was just how awful Umbridge was, sometimes how they were totally going to stock up on Zonko's products, and even telling other people to join up. It was very encouraging to hear other people spread the word, since everyone hated Umbridge it was only fitting that she be removed. It seemed, for now, that they might actually make it work. The Friday night before Hogsmeade was spent in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, the four of them counting their Sickles, Knuts, and Galleons in hope that they could afford enough to get stuff stirred up. The mantle was decorated in holly and lights; if you look close enough you could see that they were more than lights but actually really bored looking fairies.

"I've got four hundred eighteen and forty three cents." Mycroft announced, stuffing all the coins back into his leather bag.

"I've got twenty two and ten cents." Greg sighed.

"Eighty nine and five." John said.

"Seven hundred thirty four and seventy two cents." Sherlock said proudly, running his fingers through the pile of galleons.

"Where in the world did you get all that?" John asked in awe.

"I told you, I've never been to Hogsmeade." Sherlock pointed out with a smile. Mycroft rolled his eyes, drawing the string around his bag and letting it fall with a clang of metal.

"The real question is how Greg has only twenty two." he decided.

"I'm not the best at budgeting." Greg admitted.

"He raids Honeydukes." John corrected.

"At least it doesn't go to waste." Greg defended.

"It rots into a paste under your bed." John pointed out. Mycroft laughed as Greg rolled his eyes, picking up the rest of his coins and stuffing them in his pocket.

"I think we can rely on Sherlock to get us some worthy products, plus a couple of rounds of butterbeer." Greg decided.

"I'm not wasting this on butterbeer, at least not for all of you. This is all my savings; it's going to fund my college education." Sherlock pointed out.

"You can't attend Muggle College with Galleons brother dear." Mycroft defended. Sherlock frowned at his pile of gold with a small 'oh'.

"Why do you even bother with being a detective, you could be the Minister of Magic!" Greg pointed out.

"I don't want to be the Minister." Sherlock defended.

"That's my job." Mycroft pointed out.

"Yet another reason, get out of Wizarding world before we've got your big nose in everything." Sherlock said, glaring at his brother.

"You just want to blow people away with your IQ." Greg decided.

"Another plus, yes."

"I don't think it's all that bad to be a detective, I mean I guess you could pretty much solve every crime over there." John agreed. Sherlock looked at him with a small smile, happy that he was willing to defend his cause.

"So tomorrow we stock up, a week to Christmas, and then two weeks before the you-know-what. I think we've got plenty of time." Mycroft decided, turning the tides once again.

"What exactly should we get though?" John asked.

"Well, dungbombs, puking chocolate, fanged Frisbee, exploding snaps, fireworks, instant swamps, maybe some puking pastilles." Greg guessed.

"Sounds good, Umbridge won't know what hit her." Sherlock said triumphantly.

"If only we had nifflers." Mycroft sighed.

"I am absolutely not going back into that forest to chase another one of those things down." John decided. Sherlock nodded his agreement.

"It's not our fault you ran into the spiders." Greg defended.

"No, but it's because of you that we wandered into that death trap." John groaned.

"Obviously not death trap, you're both alive and well." Mycroft pointed out. 

"And traumatized." Sherlock added, making Mycroft roll his eyes.

"Obviously." He sighed.

"Who's staying over break?" John asked, raising his hand for his own question. Sherlock raised his hand as well, looking proud of himself for some reason.

"I need to ask, but I'll probably be allowed." Greg decided.

"I'll tell mom the staff needed a little bit of extra help over break." Mycroft decided.

"You're free to leave us Mycroft, no one would miss you." Sherlock pointed out. Mycroft just rolled his eyes.

"Greg would." He pointed out, making Greg blush yet nod.

"Well he's blind and stupid, so that's the only reason." Sherlock decided.

"Hey John!" said a girl's voice above them, sounding nervous. John looked up to see Sara standing above them, fiddling with the straps on her bag. Their conversation burned up in the fire, Sherlock tensed up beside John and gave Sara a sort of death glare.

"Hi Sara." John said with a polite smile.

"I um, was wondering if you wanted to maybe go to Hogsmeade with me?" Sara asked, her voice cutting short. John had never seen Sara so nervous, and he's also never seen the chairs shake ever so slightly with Sherlock's rage. Awkward. How was he supposed to let her down? Obviously he and Sherlock were going together, not really officially but it was known by both of them.

"Oh, sorry, I really would, but we've got the whole Zonko's thing to worry about, I don't want to get you all tied up in that." John sighed, doing his best to sound generally disappointed. Sara glowed red, but nodded.

"Ya, that's cool, that's fine, thanks anyway." She decided, scrambling away to the group of girls, demanding to know what happened. The chairs steadied themselves just when John was sure he heard the sound of ripping fabric. Sherlock was taking deep breaths next to him, trying to calm down. Mycroft was watching his brother nervously and curiously. He knew what happened when Sherlock got upset, but it was obviously a mystery why Sherlock was mad about a girl asking John to Hogsmeade.

"Why didn't you say yes?" Greg asked when she was out of ear shot.

"I don't want to get her in trouble too!" John pointed out, the best argument he had at the moment.

"Oh come on, I've known you for six years, I can tell when you're lying." Greg pointed out.

"Well I'm not, so maybe you don't know me too well." John decided.

"You two would be cute together." He muttered.

"Shut up Greg." John snapped, trying to end this conversation before everyone's brains spilled onto the wall.

"So, maybe we can steal a Hippogriff or something." Mycroft deciding, helping to change the subject.

"From Hagrid?" Greg asked.

"Shouldn't be too hard." Sherlock agreed, but his voice wasn't as carefree as normal. He was obviously holding back anger, doing his best to control himself.

"I'm not getting it." John groaned.

"Nose not!" Greg declared, putting his finger on his nose. John immediately followed suit while the Holmes brothers merely looked at us with annoyed suspicion.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"It's when you touch your nose to avoid... oh never mind." Greg sighed.

"Weird muggle traditions." Sherlock decided.

"Oh shut up Sherlock." John groaned.

"Maybe it's not the best idea." Mycroft agreed.

"We don't need any ideas, we've got it all somewhat worked out." Greg decided.

"What time is it?" John asked, trying to peer at Sherlock's watch since he had left his on his bedside table.

"Not even nine thirty yet." Sherlock shrugged.

"So what now?" John asked with a yawn.

"Chess?" Greg recommended.

"Mine as well." Mycroft agreed.

"I'll beat you this time." Greg decided, getting to his feet and running to the dorms.

"Yes of course." Mycroft said with a little laugh, but rolling his eyes anyway. Both John and Sherlock knew that Mycroft was going to crush Greg, but they gave him encouraging thumbs up as he ran up the steps.

"What a dork." John decided with a laugh, collecting all of his money and shoving it back into the large bag he kept them in.

"Is that a grocery bag?" Sherlock asked with amusement.

"No, it's a Ziploc, one of the many muggle mysteries." John said sarcastically. "You can hear the fresh."

"That doesn't even make sense." Sherlock pointed out.

"That's what a motto is, they're stupid and mean nothing." John agreed.

"Do you want to know a trick?" Sherlock suggested with a half-smile.

"Sure." John agreed.

"Do you have a small little leather bag, wide enough to fit a Galleon though?" he asked.

"Ya, just a small draw string?" John nodded.

"Come on, I'll show you how to keep all your coins in it." Sherlock decided, getting to his feet just as Greg bounded down the steps with the chess board. John followed obediently, but Sherlock wasn't waiting for an invitation.

"Where are you guys going?" Greg asked, flattening against the wall to let Sherlock walk past.

"I guess I'm going to learn how to get rid of this stupid bag." John pointed out, shaking the coins around in it.

"Alright then, but you'll miss the grand moment when I beat Mycroft!" Greg pointed out.

"You haven't got a chance Lestrade." Sherlock sighed, pulling open the dormitory door and disappearing inside.

"He's just a pessimist. I WOULDN'T EXPECT YOU TO CHEER FOR YOUR BROTHER!" he yelled into the room.

"He's right though." John agreed, and with that he followed Sherlock into the dorm. He heard Greg muttering about team spirit, but just shut the door behind him.