our_bbcsherlock | Fidelius Fantasies

Title: Fidelius Fantasies
Rating: PG-13
Crossover: BBC Sherlock, Harry Potter and Supernatural
Pairing: (Eventually) John/Sherlock, Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione, Moriarty/ Draco, Dean/Castiel
Summary: The Adventures of the fandoms at Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, none of these characters belong to us *sigh*
Note: Please Review (:

Chapter 1
At the age of 3, John Watson had his mother draw a big envelope on his calendar to mark July 20^,th, 2008. That envelope had flown across the room and hovered over an 11 year old, who was curled up in a ball under his bed sheets.
“JOHN HAMISH WATSON!” The envelope had ripped itself open and screamed at the boy, “TODAY IS THE DAY! GET UP AND PREPARE YOURSELF!”
John had jumped out of his bed with a grin across his face, glowing with excitement and joy. But, the exhilarating feelings had slowly drained out, as the sun set and light morphed into darkness.
“Yesterday was the day,” he whispered to himself. His head felt heavy and he would have started crying, had his sister not busted through the door, shouting.
“JOHNNY! Breakfast. Downstairs. Now.” She barely glanced at him and ran back downstairs.
“It’s John, Harriet!” he called after her.
"It’s Harry, Johnny!”
John groaned. He slid off the bed and dragged himself downstairs.

“Good morning, lovely!” Mrs. Watson embraced her son, “It’s toast and bacon, today!”
“mornin’ ” John sulked in his chair and nibbled at his bread.
“Why the long face, Johnny boy?” John glared at his sister, confirming her belief that now wasn’t the best of times to bring up the topic, and yet, she continued, “I can’t imagine what will happen to you once you get your letter.”
“Nothing happens to me.” He sulked further in his chair. His eyes were welling up and he was swallowing, continuously to make the lump in his throat go away.

“Oh, John. Honey, it’s alright!” his mum sat in the chair beside him, holding his hands, “Look, Harry hasn’t got her package, yet either. Sometimes, the mail is just late. It’ll be here this afternoon, you just watch!” She passed him an assuring smile.
“mmm…” he looked at his mother, trying to mirror her smile. How he hoped she’d be right.

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“This is for you, sir.” The butler handed the little boy an envelope.
“Thank you, Arthur.”Sherlock scrutinized the envelope in his hand.
Sherlock Holmes was calligraphed in ink, parts of a feather-calamus scraped off into the letters.
“A quill, again.” Sherlock said to himself.
He turned the envelope over, finding what he expected. A red seal locked the envelope and above it was an emblem, HOGWARTS, DRACO DORMIENS NUNQUAM TITILLANDUS.Never tickle a sleeping dragon. Latin. Sherlock had searched it up, after the first letter he had received. He remembered being excited, at first, thinking it was a puzzle. He had ripped the envelope open and found a letter:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF
WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Sherlock Holmes,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no Later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

“Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Sherlock had scoffed. He knew better than everyone else magic didn’t exist. There was a plausible, scientific explanation to everything the magicians tried to pull off, and if one simply observed and did enough research, they would know exactly how the illusionists did it.
“Science of deduction, that is the real magic.” Sherlock had reminded himself and thrown the letter in the fireplace, watching the paper turn into ash.
But, then he had received another letter and another and three more, each appearing out of nowhere. He had found one under his pillow, a week after the first one. Another time, Sherlock had turned away from his book for merely a second and he had looked back to find the letter carefully placed between the pages.

Sherlock found himself standing in front of the fireplace, again. For the first time, he hesitated. “What if there really is magic? Mother does seem to have a grand knowledge on the subject.” Sherlock thought, turning the envelope in his hand.
“Rubbish! Just by considering the idea, I seem mad!”
He held out his arm, ready to throw the 6^th letter into the fire.

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“Muuummm!!” Chills moved up John’s arms and down his spine. He stood over a package that read HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY and right under it, To Harriet Jean Watson and John Hamish Watson.
“John Hamish Watson. Hogwarts.” John relished the words put together.
“Is it here?!” Harriet came running into the room. Her eyes followed John’s gaze and she ran up to him, almost falling over the package.
“Careful!” John gasped, falling to his knees, “Open it, Harry.”
Harriet looked at her little brother, excited for both of them. Moving her hands over the writing, she smiled and turned the package to rip it open from the corner. She put her hand through and removed a box that had the school’s name imprinted on the top and at the bottom, it said ‘Harriet Jean Watson. Prefect, Gryffindor.’ She squealed loudly at the sight and began giggling, hysterically.
“If someone saw you, now, they would rethink about making you a prefect.” John giggled.

“Shut up, John!” Harry hit her brother on the head, lightly, though still smiling at him, “open yours! Where’s your letter?” Harry picked up the package and looked into it. Suddenly, she went pale and her smile left her face. Distraught, she turned to her brother, who held his breath, “It’s not in here.”
“WHAT?!” he screamed at her, snatching the package. He looked into it, ready to cry.
“Joking!” Harry laughed and ran to her mother.
“I hate you!” he yelled at her, though very thankful that it was only a joke.
He took out the envelope, his grin growing every second. John Hamish Watson. Hogwarts.He read, again and again. This was the moment he had been waiting for ever since Harry had got her first letter, 5 years ago. John had sat beside her, as she read her acceptance letter a little too many times. He had gone along to shop for the wand, the robe and the books. He had helped her choose her owl. He had helped her pack her things. He had watched her get on the train. He had waited eagerly for her to return during the holidays and shower him with stories. And, all the while he had considered this a form of training for when it would be his turn.
“Let’s open it, then!” Mr. Watson walked up to his son, taking the letter from him, “Would you like me to read it?”
John nodded.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” Mr. Watson began, knowing his son would want him to read every word on the paper, “Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore. Dear John H. Watson, We are pleased…”
“to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry…” Harriet chimed along with her father, and too kindled to control himself, John joined in. The three of them read his letter out loud, their voices echoing in the room, “Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall.”

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“YOU! YOU GOT THE LETTER??!!” Mycroft eyed his brother, his brows furrowed in anger and bitterness.
Before Sherlock could throw it in the fire, his brother had snatched the envelope away. He had begun reading it aloud, at first, articulating each word as if he was performing on stage. But, soon the words had fallen to whispers and then to mere mumbles.
“The letter?”

Mycroft briskly walked out the door, the letter still in his hands, “Mummy! Mummy!” he screamed, angst apparent in his tone of voice.
Sherlock followed him. Mycroft clearly knew more about this letter than Sherlock did and going by the way he was behaving, it didn’t seem that he had planted these envelopes, as a form of prank.
“What is this?!” Mycroft threw the letter at his mother’s study table.
Mrs. Holmes read the heading on the paper and jumped to her feet, bringing the letter closer to her face. She read through the letter, her smile widening and eyes glowing with each word.

“Sherly!” she walked over to Sherlock, proudly and took him into her arms, “Honey, this is wonderful!” Mrs. Holmes kissed her son on the forehead, “My Sherly is going to Hogwarts!” She laughed, as if she couldn’t believe it.
“Why does he get the letter! He didn’t even want it, Mummy! He was throwing it in the fire!” Color had left Mycroft’s face and he rubbed his eyes. If Sherlock didn’t know any better, he would think his older brother was crying. Mycroft’s jaw clenched as he glared at his little brother, trying much too hard to control his urge of swinging a punch at Sherlock and throwing him to the ground. He left the room, just as fast as he’d walked in.

Befuddled, Sherlock looked at his mother, who seemed to be intently thinking about something “Mummy, you don’t think-”
“Sherly, you should’ve got this letter on your birthday. Honey, why did you burn them?” Mrs. Holmes questioned, disappointment taking over the pride.
“Mum…” Sherlock shifted on his feet, “I thought I was going mad. Magic doesn’t exist, Mummy! You can’t explain it!”
Sherlock watched his mother sigh, partly in relief. She held her son by his shoulders and turned him around. Sherlock’s eyes widened and he almost fell back into his mother’s arms. The fire that had been calmly flickering in the fireplace had now grown into a phoenix. The bird of fire flew around the study and extinguished back into the fireplace.
“Mummy!” Sherlock screamed.
“Sherly…” Mrs. Holmes smiled at her son, “You observe, you research and you deduce. But, what you must remember, Sherlock Holmes, is that when you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how mad it might seem…” she gently put the curls that fell on his eyes, behind his ears, “must be the truth… Magic and Hogwarts, dear, is the truth and you have been invited to be a part of it.”
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