Chapter Text
There was never any doubt that Sherlock was a wizard. It was just difficult to believe it. As one of the oldest pure-blood families, the Holmes were notorious for their brilliant minds and the production of numerous dark wizards. That being said, for a time, Sherlock was the source of much concern...
Sherlock aged 7:
"He's a squib Siger!"
Sherlock listened intently through the keyhole of his Father's office, where his Mummy and Father were discussing him.
"Violet please! He cannot be a squib, his mind is too advanced to be a muggle."
"But he has an unnatural interest in them! He SPOKE to one today when we were in town. Siger he SPOKE to one."
"Gracious Violet!" His Father Snapped. "He's a curious boy!"
"But he never speaks to anyone unless it's necessary!" His Mummy began to get hysterical. "And Mycroft and Sherrinford were noticeably wizards!" Sherlock could hear her sobs.
"Violet. No son of mine, will ever be a squib." He could hear his Father comforting Mummy.
"But he's not a Slytherin! He can't be he's too nice!!" His mother said.
"No son of mine will be a failure" His Father said sounding Angry.
Sherlock moved away from the keyhole, his wild curls falling around his childlike face. Stupid parents. He though.
"Sherlock?"
Stupid Mycroft getting his stupid letter and going to Hogwarts tomorrow. Stupid Mycroft leaving him. Stupid Stupid Stupid.
"What!" Sherlock bit out, turning to see Mycroft at the bottom of the stairs.
"You'll be joining me soon, there's no need to be upset." Mycroft said in his stupid stuck up fat voice.
Before he could stop himself, Sherlock felt the tears beginning to fall. Mycroft was leaving, just like Sherinnford. Leaving Sherlock to suffer with relatives who were boring and stupid and evil.
"Oh Sherlock" Mycroft started towards him.
"Leave me alone!" Sherlock shouted before running away. "I hope you're in HUFFLEPUFF" He shouted behind him.
Mycroft will never understand... a small voice said to him..It will be a long time until anyone does.
Sherlock aged 9:
"SHERLOCK"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. And continued with his experiment.
If the concentration of potassium is just right.. there should..
"Yes!" He shouted. Muggle chemistry as they called it, was fascinating. His eyes were bright as he watched the concoction fizzing away.
Now to add this to the potion of living death..
"SHERLOCK" His hand wobbled. Sighing, he put down his latest venture, and went to the top of the stair in the west wing.
"Yes Mummy?" He called, his angelic face appearing above the staircase.
"We're going to Diagon Alley for your brothers' supplies." She said as she put on her gloves. "Nost has put your clothes on your bed"
Sherlock stomped to his room, avoiding the house elf and put on his trousers and shirt.
Stupid Fat Mycroft. Stupid Sherrinford. Stupid brothers being amazing and getting in Slytherin and making Siger proud. Stupid house with it's stupid history. Stupid Hogwarts.
He threw the floo powder in the grate with more force than was necessary, watching Mycroft's fat face, and Sherrinford's smirk. He hated them both.
Joan aged 8:
Harry was a witch! Joan couldn't believe it! This whole situation was so ridiculous and yet it explained some of the odd things that had happened in the past. Her Muggle parents had been equally as shocked, and had almost feinted when the kind lady with the letter had told them.
Now Joan stood in the most amazing place in the world. Diagon Alley.
There were no words to describe it, and it felt right. As if Joan belonged in the wizarding world.
She was awed, as they walked past each shop before stopping at one in particular, Broomstix, where a group of children huddled around what appeared to be the latest model.
Why am I so small she cursed as she pushed to the front.
Firebolt 3, the name said. She looked at he price but the money was confusing so she carried on examining the broom.
"It's not that special" Said a voice next to her. She turned and looked up.
Little did she know, but she was staring at the best thing that would ever happen to her.
"Are you kidding me!" She shrieked. "It's a Broooooom. That. Can. FLY."
The boy looked down at her, his piercing blue eyes reading her.
"Well you'll never be able to afford it." He said with a sniff.
"How d'you know that?" Joan said, crossing her arms over her jumper.
"You're staring at a broom as if you've never seen one before, obviously a muggle-born, or just cannot afford one, in which case I am correct. If the former, then you wouldn't be looking at it with so much awe you would probably be going in to buy one of going to find your parents, however the case is that you're worried about the price as you cannot understand wizard money and don't want to ask for something out of your budget." He said, waving a hand around.
Joan's eyes widened and she stared at the boy. "Amazing!" She breathed.
He did a double take.
Joan smiled and stuck out a small hand. "I'm Joan" She said grinning.
"Sherlock" The boy said staring at the hand.
"You shake it dumbo." Joan said grinning before taking his hand and shaking it.
Sherlock
Sherlock stared at the small girl who wasn't even up to his shoulder. He'd just insulted her and then she'd shaken his hand?
He couldn't understand it. Looking at her, she was blank, he could read her, but he didn't understand the words he saw.
So lost was he, that he hadn't noticed he was sat on a bench with Joan, as she complained about her sister and spoke at him. Not seeming to mind that he remained silent.
It's like she understands me a small voice said.
All to soon, Joan's name was called and she disappeared, calling out bye to Sherlock.
Mycroft found Sherlock and shook him out of his daze.
"Sherly are you alright?"
Sherlock scowled. "Yes MIKE"
"Sherlock? You look unwell, you're flushed."
Sherlock shook off Mycroft's hand and stood up, leading the way back to their mother, who was with Sherrinford in Madam Malkin's.
"Sherlock!" His Mummy cried out. "Come and try on a new cloak!"
Stupid fat Mycroft and Sherrinford getting their uniforms whilst he had to get a CLOAK.
Sherlock aged 11
The owl that brought Sherlock's letter was found in a cauldron of memory loss potion next to Sherlock's window, and had to be sent back to Hogwarts with an apology letter, guided by a Holmes owl.
Siger clapped his son on the back and went back to work, the first physical contact Sherlock had had with him in years. And his mother nearly broke down from tears. Sherrinford hugged him and then went back to their Father's office to work with him, as after finishing school, he had joined the Holmes company straight away. Mycroft sent a letter from Hogwarts.
Sherlock was ecstatic.
All the stories Sherrinford had told him were going to happen to him. He was finally going to Hogwarts! But he kept his usual mask on, saying simply
"Mummy we need to get my supplies"
But his mother saw how happy he was really, and bought him a brand new expensive potions set.
Sherlock was amazed by Hogwarts, he soaked up information everywhere he looked.
Somewhere in the countryside shouting could be heard from Siger's study.
"RAVENCLAW! MY SON IS IN RAVENCLAW. I WILL WRTIE TO THE SCHOOL AND COMPLAIN HOW DARE THEY."
But he didn't, and Sherlock received a letter from his mother congratulating him and telling him not to worry about anything.