The Sorting Hat

So this was it, this was Hogwarts.

Sherlock was approaching the huge front doors with a group of new students, and looked up at the castle's many towers. It was real.

When the first letter had arrived this summer, he and his brother Mycroft had thought it to be a prank of the school bullies. Admittedly, a quite impressive prank… They had decided not to bother their parents with it, but more letters kept arriving. As soon as they had started to be delivered by owls, they couldn't hide it any longer. And honestly, the school bullies weren't smart enough for training owls. At this point, Sherlock had shortly suspected Mycroft of having set this up. But then it had been clear that in a small part of his mind, Mycroft was disappointed that he hadn't also received such a letter. Though he would never admit that of course.

His parents had been quite disturbed when Sherlock had finally told them about his new school. However, they eventually decided to follow the instructions given in the letters, and took Sherlock along to London in order to find this Diagon Alley. The fact that his parents had received an alarming letter in an envelope that had started smoking and yelling might have helped them to come to this decision, though.

On their way to this ominous Alley they had nearly missed the pub that had been described in the letter. His parents swore that they would have never noticed it if Sherlock hadn't pointed it out to them.

Sherlock had been exited to finally meet people like himself, but as it turned out, wizards and witches weren't that much different to other people. Despite all the things they could do, most of them were just as ignorant and dull as non-magical people.

The group of new students now entered through the front doors of Hogwarts and were greeted by an elderly, sternly looking witch called Professor McGonagall. Sherlock didn't really listen to her but thought about how his parents had accompanied him to King's Cross Station this morning. He had soon figured out how to get to Platform 9 ¾ from where his train, the Hogwarts Express, was supposed to be leaving. Though he had already watched quite a few people run into a barrier and disappear, again nobody else seemed to have noticed. After saying goodbye to his parents, he had gone to follow the other wizards on his own.

On his way, he had intentionally bumped his cart into the luggage of a girl with bushy brown hair. She had been standing with her parents and they had also clearly been looking for a way to that mysterious platform. She had wheeled around in surprise, and while telling her he was sorry, Sherlock had winked at her and finally continued on his way to the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Shortly after Sherlock had crossed it, the girl had followed through as well. He had to admit that she had figured it out quite quickly.

The girl had told him that her name was Hermione and thanked him for his help. She had been all excited about this new world they were about to explore and just wouldn't stop talking anymore. With just one glance, Sherlock understood that she fancied him, and had decided to be nice to her… well, as nice as he could manage to be with people. He had long figured out that people fancying you could be quite helpful, when it came to doing favours for instance. Hermione had soon started to tell him everything she knew about Hogwarts, its four houses and its history. Sherlock hadn't bothered yet to learn anything about his new school; he'd had different things on his mind, more important things that is.

By now, Professor McGonagall had stopped talking and led them through another huge door into a great hall. There were four long tables that probably belonged to the four houses. Many students were already sitting there waiting for them, and Sherlock also spotted some ghosts among them. Candles were floating in the air. When looking up, Sherlock realised that he could see the night sky through the ceiling of the hall. At the other end of the room stood another table where their new teachers were sitting. The headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore was an impressive figure with piercing blue eyes, who watched them kindly as they came closer. Sherlock couldn't help himself and just admired all of this.

They were told that they now were about to get to know to which of the four houses of Hogwarts they would belong, and that this decision would be made by… a talking hat. A quite shabby and old hat, by the way. However, before the sorting began, the hat broke out into a song… a very long song.

In the meantime, Sherlock remembered his journey on the Hogwarts Express. He had lost sight of Hermione, intentionally to be honest, as her endless talking had started to annoy him. He had found a seat in a compartment where he had met a group of boys who were also facing their first year in Hogwarts. None of them seemed to be from a wizarding family as they soon had started to wonder what life in Hogwarts would be like. Opposite Sherlock had been sitting a boy who had kept as quiet as Sherlock most of the time. He had drawn Sherlock's interest as he had managed, unlike the others in their compartment, to give away as good as nothing about himself.

Finally, one of the other boys had asked: "So, what about you, Jim… It was Jim, wasn't it? Which house would you like to be in?"

"Slytherin, of course," the boy opposite Sherlock had replied without any hesitation.

The other boys had looked at each other. They had just agreed that Slytherin was the last house they wanted to be in because of all the dark rumours they had already heard about it.

"All of my family have been in Slytherin, so I'll surely go there too," Jim had gone on.

"So, you're from a wizarding family?" the other boy had asked.

"Of course, I am. All pure blood, by the way," Jim had replied.

"No, you're not," Sherlock had simply said.

"How dare you…" Jim had begun, but Sherlock had interrupted him: "From all I have learned so far, Jim is a far too simple name for a son of an old, pure blood wizarding family. And if you really grew up in the wizarding world, you would have been much more careful about those Bertie Bott's Beans… And surely, you would have corrected some of these stupid mistakes the others have made while talking about Hogwarts. It's Hufflepuff, not Snufflepuff."

"How do you want to know? You're as much from a non-magical family as I am," Jim had said, not paying any attention to the others, who had been shocked to find out that he had bluntly lied to them.

"I have my sources," Sherlock had answered calmly. At this point the two of them had shot each other a look that had made it all clear: They would be enemies from now on, archenemies to be correct. And Sherlock would definitely not go to Slytherin.

In the great hall, they had already proceeded to the sorting, and the first students had found their seats at the table of their new house. Just now, Hermione was getting up from the stool they had to sit on for the sorting. She was a Gryffindor now and was greeted by her housemates with cheers.

When it was finally Sherlock's turn, he sat on the small stool and curiously put on the sorting hat. Suddenly, he heard a voice in his head: "So what do we have here? Oooh, very impressive. Impressive indeed. Very strong intellect, perfect for Ravenclaw. But wait, also much ambition and self-confidence, a knack to use people to your advantage. Slytherin might be even better…"

"No way," Sherlock thought, quite annoyed by the fact that someone or something was rummaging in his mind.

"You're sure? You could be great in Slytherin," the voice said.

"I don't need Slytherin for being great," Sherlock replied dryly. "What about that other house you mentioned, Ravenclaw…"

"Alright, fine then, Ravenclaw it is!" the hat shouted out loud.

…

"John… John, wake up! You're mumbling in your sleep, that's annoying!"

John Watson started up from his dream. "What is it? What happened?"

"I might have got used to the fact that you keep falling asleep while we're actually working on a case, but you're really disturbing me here," Sherlock said. He stood facing the wall above the mantelpiece where he had pinned several notes and pictures.

John was lying on the sofa behind him where he must have fallen asleep a few hours ago after he had been awake for over 24 hours. Sherlock hadn't even bothered to turn around to talk to him.

"Sorry, weird dream," John said. He got up and went into the kitchen to make some tea.

After a while, without taking his eyes from the wall, Sherlock said: "Afghanistan again?"

"Sorry, what?" John asked while waiting for the water to boil.

"Your dream. Afghanistan again?" Sherlock repeated.

"No, actually not," John said, and after hesitating a few seconds, he went on: "Have you ever heard about Harry Potter?"

"No, why? Is he important to our case?" Sherlock asked with only the slightest hint of interest in his voice.

John looked up from the teapot. Why had he even bothered to ask. "Never mind."