Setting Up
“Oh, look! Your supply lists are here!” Mrs. Weasley cried out, pointing to the window.
Harry and the other Weasley children turned to see Errol struggling to fly towards the Burrow, the bundle of letters tied to his foot weighing him down. Only one pane was open, and it seemed as if Errol was flying directly toward a closed pane. Sure enough, he flew directly into it with a loud Bang! causing all of the house’s occupants to flinch.
“Bloody owl,” Percy muttered as he stood up to fetch it. Errol flew onto the correct window sill, fluttering his wings as if embarrassed before holding his leg out for Percy to grab the letters. The moment Errol’s burden was gone, he flew off shakily. Percy turned back to the table, thumbing through the envelopes.
“Dumbledore must know you’re here, Harry,” he said, looking up at him with a small smile on his face. “Your letter is in here, too.” Harry took the offered letter from Percy. As everyone else took their letters (Fred and George switched after Percy gave them theirs), Harry opened it up. The letter gave information for the start date of the upcoming term, as well as what time the Hogwarts Express would be leaving Platform 9 ¾. Skimming over that, he simply looked directly towards the list of new supplies.
As well as the standard supplies, your Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts books have been updated to include:
- The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
- Signs of Nearby Darkness by Jordan Logan
- The Art of Observing by Crandall Bondok
“I don’t know that last book, The Art of Observing,” Mrs. Weasley commented. Harry looked up to see her furrowing her brow at Ron’s list. “I’ve never seen it in Diagon Alley before.”
“Is it a muggle book, do you think?” Ron asked. “Maybe the new Defence teacher is a muggle born!” Mr. Weasley shrugged.
“I can check when I go to work tomorrow, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. If nothing else, I’ll ask the Muggle Interference Agency where to find it,” he commented before turning back to the Daily Prophet.
“It sounds like a Divination book,” Fred remarked, raising an eyebrow at it.
“But it can’t be, if little Harry and fickle Ronnie need it too,” George continued. Ron’s ears turned red at the nickname. Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. That was a class he hadn’t heard of before.
“Divination?”
“Basically crystal ball seeing,” Ron explained, shrugging. “It sounds cool, but we can’t take it this year. You can only select electives once you’ve entered third-year.”
“I’d better find Ginny and give her the list. Oh, it’s her first Hogwarts letter!” Mrs. Weasley said excitedly, running out of the room to find her only daughter, the closed envelope still clenched in her hand. Harry turned back to Ron, excitement shining in his eyes.
“Crystal balls?”
“It’s harder than it sounds,” George cut in, shaking his head.
“And the teacher is a right loon,” Fred laughed. Percy looked up from his breakfast, scowling.
“Divination is a very prestigious class to take, and it is not respectable to insult a Professor, especially one as talented as Professor Trelawny,” he scolded, shaking his head at the twins. They immediately burst out laughing.
“Trelawny?” Fred scoffed.
“Talented?” George snorted.
As the twins laughed, Ron shook his head and stood up.
“Come on, Harry. Let’s go get dressed.” Harry stood up quickly and followed Ron up the stairs.
“Do you think the new professor is a muggle-born?” Harry asked as they entered the attic. Ron shrugged, going over to his dresser to change out of his pajamas. Harry walked over to his trunk that was sitting at the foot of Ron’s bed to do the same.
“I dunno. It doesn’t really matter if they are, I mean, look at Hermione! She’s the first witch of her line that we know of, and she’s the best at magic in our year! As long as they know what they’re talking about, who really cares who the professor’s parents are?” Ron took his shirt off and began to pull on a t-shirt. Harry hurried to clarify as he changed his pants.
“That’s not what I meant! I was raised by muggles, too. I guess I was just surprised that they required a muggle book for their class.”
“Yeah, I’ve never heard of that happening either,” Ron agreed. “What would we learn from a Muggle book about Defence Against the Dark Arts?”
“Better question, what would our teacher think we can learn?” Harry laughed. Ron laughed as well.
“Wonder what kind of teacher we’ll get this year?” He joked, and Harry shook his head.
“As long as they aren’t possessed by Lord Voldemort in the back of their head like Quirrell, I’ll take them!”
Sherlock held John’s hand tightly as the two of them ran through the alley way, away from the cult members chasing them. His heart was pounding excitedly with the adrenaline of the moment. This case had been exciting, nearly taken him a full week to solve it! Of course, that had been before Watson had been kidnapped by the leaders of some terrorist group last night. Sherlock had managed to finally find the last clue (a crack in the victim’s mug handle, so obvious), and been able to lead Lestrade exactly where John was being held. And now here he was, holding his husband’s hand as tight as physically possible as they ran from the gunmen.
“Sherlock!” John yelled as a flurry of bullets rained down at them, nearly hitting them both. There was no pain in his voice, so he hadn’t been shot, but panic still gripped Sherlock, replacing the excitement he had felt mere moments ago. John seemed to still have traces of a drug running through his system from the initial kidnapping, and he was in no shape to dodge bullets as easily as he could have normally.
They both ducked, trying to avoid the bullets. Sherlock pulled John closer to him as much as he could while they were running, attempting to use his taller body to shield John’s smaller one.
“Sherlock! Get John out of here, now!” Lestrade yelled somewhere behind them. “It’s them!” Fear that Sherlock hadn’t heard in a long time laced Lestrade’s voice.
Before Sherlock could deduce exactly what Lestrade had meant by “them”, he got his answer from a bolt of light shooting past his husband’s ear, lighting his frightened expression a pale green. Sherlock felt his heart drop as he finally realized what Lestrade had meant.
That had been the Killing Curse, one of the Unforgivable Curses. Sherlock only knew of one group of people who used that so frugally, and they had supposedly disbanded years ago. Either the Death Eaters met in secret, or these were insane pureblood wannabes.
But no matter who they were, they had just tried to kill John. John could not be here anymore. He didn’t know what he was up against. Guns were nothing against wizards who knew both protection and killing spells, especially when John still had drugs running through his system.
Sherlock heard Lestrade casting the Disarming Charm at the wizards behind them, but knew the risk was too large. As John skidded to a halt and began to turn, reaching for his arm (probably for a gun or some sort of weapon that Sherlock had missed in the panic of the moment) Sherlock shook his head.
”John!” He called out warningly, straining to be heard over the noise of the others yelling. John turned his head slightly towards Sherlock in acknowledgement, but still reached for the weapon. One of the men chasing them raised his wand and pointed it directly at John’s face.
”No!” Sherlock yelled, panic fueling him like never before. Pulling John into a tight embrace, he pictured the flat and Apparated away as quickly as possible.
———
John stumbled a little as the initial nausea caused by Apparating faded, looking around to see where they were. He was shocked to see he was in the flat. Had he accidentally Apparated when Sherlock grabbed him? Had his magic, sensing his panic, sent him somewhere he thought of as “safe”?
How could he have been so careless? His Auror training during the war should have stopped him from any accidental Apparating! When he had seen the Killing Curse come so close to Sherlock, John’s reasoning felt like it flew directly out of his head. Now Sherlock was going to know everything. As much as he had wanted to tell Sherlock, and had fully intended to inform him what he was, this was a horrible way for Sherlock to discover that John was a wizard.
He blamed the Confundus Charm that the Death Eater kidnappers had placed on him. He could still feel it messing with his head, however small the lingering effects were.
After regaining his footing, John quickly turned to Sherlock, mind racing to think of an excuse. Trying to decide if he should come clean or lie. To his confusion, Sherlock looked anxious right back at him. Not scared, or confused. Anxious. Putting it aside as just another Sherlock thing, John opened his mouth to say something, not even sure what he was going to say.
”I can explain!”
John leaned back and blinked in surprise, as did Sherlock. They had both said that, the exact same thing at the same time. John furrowed his brow in confusion, but Sherlock recovered quicker.
“Explain what?” The detective asked, genuine confusion lacing his question. What did he mean? If Sherlock wasn't confused about them Apparating, did that mean that he already knew about it? Know John was a wizard? But wouldn’t that mean that Sherlock…
”Us just appearing here! One moment we were being shot at, and then next I accidentally brought us here! Aren’t you confused?” John spluttered. Sherlock’s eyes widened, and a slow smile crept along his face.
”You…think that you…made us Apparate?” Sherlock’s eyes were bright with excitement. When Sherlock used the term, a smile crossed John’s lips as well. Sherlock knew the word! He must be a wizard too!
”Well, didn’t I?” He asked. Sherlock laughed and shook his head.
“No, my dear Watson. I did when one of the Death Eaters sent the Killing Curse towards you!” John shut his eyes and laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.
“We’re both wizards?” He laughed. Sherlock chuckled and shook his head.
”And neither of us knew it,” he confirmed. The detective stepped forward and rested his arms on John’s shoulders, looking down at his husband lovingly. John smiled as he looked up at him, wrapping his own arms around Sherlock’s waist.
”Merlin’s beard, it’s so obvious now!” Sherlock smirked. His eyes flickered towards John’s injured shoulder. “That wasn’t a bullet wound, was it?” John shook his head, never moving his eyes from Sherlock’s.
”No,” he confirmed. “I got it apprehending a suspected Death Eater during the war.” Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
”Oh? Auror, then, are you?”
“I’m retired, and also served in the muggle military, but yes.”
”Still took place in Afghanistan?”
”During the war I was undercover in the muggle military to find if You-Know-Who was infiltrating it as well, and I was in Afghanistan for a while.” Sherlock looked away from John’s eyes and started fingering one of the golden strands by his ear. John gave a tiny smile and leaned into his hand. Sherlock furrowed his brow.
”How come I’ve never seen your wand before? Usually I can spot other wizards just by seeing their wands hidden in their sleeves or waistbands.” The familiar frustration of something not being clear to him crept into Sherlock’s voice.
John smiled and removed his arms from around Sherlock’s waist. The detective stepped back as John rolled one sleeve up. Seeing the cuff around John’s wrist, Sherlock gently lifted the Auror’s hand closer to his face to inspect it.
”Any witch or wizard employed in the muggle military is issued one of these. It has a small slit on the outside, and the inside has an Engorgement Charm just big enough to hide a wand inside.”
Sherlock’s eyes lit up excitedly as he found the slit. He slowly slipped two fingers inside and carefully pulled out John’s wand. A small flurry of excitement lit in John’s stomach as he saw his husband holding John’s wand for the first time. It felt right.
”I’ve noticed the cuff before, but never really noticed the charm on it,” Sherlock admitted, admiration in his voice.
Sherlock began inspecting the wand carefully with both hands, looking at it with a mixture of respect and awe. The light wood fit against Sherlock’s pale skin. John began chewing the inside of his cheek nervously.
“Polished regularly, you take a great deal of pride in your wand. Good for non-verbal spells. You have a habit of rubbing your thumb alongside the edge of it. Aspen wood, sensible for someone with dueling skills such as yourself. Attracted to danger, again reflecting its owner,” he added, rolling his eyes. John couldn’t help but give a small laugh at that. It was true, John loved the danger in their lifestyle.
“Judging by your personality being highly loyal and strong minded, I’d suppose that the core would be…unicorn hair?” Sherlock looked up questioningly. John smiled and nodded.
”It’s served me well over the years, especially in all the battles I’ve fought in.” Sherlock held the wand out towards John, who took it and slipped it back in his pouch. Sherlock reached into his cloak and removed his wand. John was surprised to see the light coloring of the wood. He had expected to see a dark wood, considering Sherlock’s habit of wearing mostly dark clothing.
The detective held his wand out for John to take, which he eagerly did. The design was simple, with small markings near the bottom perfect for gripping tightly. Sensible and to the point, just like Sherlock. John’s own wand had tiny circular markings covering it, creating a texture that felt comfortable against his skin.
“Cedar wood,” Sherlock told John. He smiled.
“Perfect for people with unwavering loyalty and hard to fool. Perfect for you,” John laughed. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, impressed.
“You know wand woods?” He asked. John shrugged.
”I’ve done some research.” He turned his attention back to the wand. “The core… is it unicorn hair as well?” The same qualities Sherlock had used to determine John’s core belonged to Sherlock as well. Sherlock nodded as John handed the wand back, tucking it away.
”It’s not unusual for spouses to share wand cores, especially in England, but not because they are attracted to each other. After all, there are only three cores that most wand makers deem powerful and efficient enough to include in their wand making, including Ollivanders. Statistically speaking, most spouses tend to end up with the same-“
John grabbed the back of Sherlock’s head and pulled him down into a kiss, standing on his own tip toes, cutting off Sherlock’s rant. Sherlock gasped into the kiss, putting his hands on the side of John’s head, tangling his fingers into the light strands.
Sherlock’s lips were soft and warm against John’s, which felt wonderful as their mouths moved against each other longingly.
Merlin’s beard, he loved this man. After a few years, especially after Moriarty, he’d thought that they’d reached the pinnacle of crazy situations together. But Sherlock had managed to surprise him once again. He hoped Sherlock would continue to surprise him for the rest of their lives.
After a few moments, they slowed down, breaking apart carefully. Sherlock rested his forehead against John’s, both breathing heavily. Once they had gotten their breaths back, a memory sparked in John’s mind. He lifted his head, furrowing his brow in confusion.
“Is Lestrade a wizard?” He asked. Sherlock tilted his head. “He called the Death Eaters ‘them’ when talking to you earlier. As if he knew what they were.” Sherlock nodded.
”We’re friends from Hogwarts, we were in the same year together.”
”Same House?” John asked.
“No, he was in Hufflepuff and I was in-“
”Ravenclaw.” It wasn’t a question, John was pretty confident in his guess. Sherlock smiled approvingly.
“Excellent deduction, my conductor of light,” he murmured, leaning down to muzzle his nose into John’s neck.
John reached up and grabbed Sherlock’s dark curls with both hands, tangling his fingers in them. He began to sift through the soft curls, eliciting a small groan from the taller man.
A sound that went directly to John’s groin.
”You’re the brilliant one, not me,” John murmured back, and Sherlock gave a small whimper at the compliment. “My brilliant, wonderful, genius consultant detective.”
He began to pull a little harder against the curls, and he literally felt Sherlock’s knees buckle against him. He smiled.
John loved the effect he had on Sherlock, how he could make Sherlock weak in the knees and unable to form coherent sentences simply with compliments and a hand in his hair.
Still running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair, John asked,
”What’s his Wizarding position?”
Sherlock’s head was down, and his hands were gripping John’s hips like they were his lifeline. John knew he would have a hard time talking, but that just added to the fun.
”Hm?” Sherlock mumbled. “Um, he doesn’t have one. He-he only works for Scotland Yard, a muggle position.”
John leaned closer and softly kissed Sherlock’s ear, breathing lightly on it. A shiver ran down Sherlock’s spine, and John could feel himself growing harder by the second. But he liked to draw it out, and so he would.
”What about Mycroft? Is your brother a wizard as well?” John’s lips tickled Sherlock’s ear, and ran his hands up and down his chest lightly, causing a small whimper to escape.
”He works for both the Ministry, and…”
“Yes?” John murmured, kissing Sherlock’s jaw.
“And, and the British government. But I think he has more in-influence in the Muggle world. Isn’t why Les…why Lestrade fancies him though.”
John licked a stripe across Sherlock’s jaw, and Sherlock whined, tightening his grip on John’s hips as his legs trembled.
“John…” he begged. John chuckled.
”Alright, Sherlock, my brilliant, clever, intelligent, darling husband,” he praised before sucking on Sherlock’s neck.
Sherlock threw his head back at the sensation, giving John better access, and whimpered at each compliment. Oh, if Anderson and Donovan could see John’s husband now. They’d know he was more than a “freak”, that he did have humanity in him. Well, no. John wanted this sight reserved for him alone.
Finally, when John was convinced that Sherlock was legitimately about to collapse, he removed his lips from Sherlock’s throat, groaning at the sight of the bruise he had left behind, before taking Sherlock’s hands in his own and dragging him towards the bedroom.
“You deserve a reward after all your hard work today,” he promised Sherlock, pushing him onto the bed.
Sherlock gave a moan as he spread his legs apart, hand reaching down to squeeze his own erection bulging in his pants. John immediately began to undress, cock hardening painfully at the sight of Sherlock palming himself through the fabric. Oh, he couldn’t wait.
———
Much later, Sherlock lay in bed with his head on top of John’s stomach, enjoying the sensation of his husband playing with his hair. His beautiful, wonderful, magical husband. His truly magical husband.
While of course there was nothing fundamentally different between muggles and wizards (proven, anyways, none of his nor Mycroft’s research had been able to find any genetic differences between muggles and wizards), Sherlock would be lying to himself if he said that he wasn’t happier than he had previously been that John was a wizard as well.
Factually speaking, it was most likely because they had shared backgrounds and experiences in similar places. They understood each other on a more basic level than where they had already previously stood.
Either way, Sherlock was only aware of one thing: he was the luckiest man alive, and for some reason, the Fates didn’t seem to hate him as much anymore.
John’s fingers suddenly slowed, and he shifted slightly underneath John. Thought just occurred. Probably involving Sherlock. About to ask a question.
“You told me that you had been offered a teaching position somewhere in Scotland,” John started. Sherlock lifted his head up enough to look at John’s hazel eyes. The obvious question burned inside them, and Sherlock answered it before it was even spoken.
“Yes, it’s Hogwarts. They want me to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.” John’s eyes widened in surprise.
”That’s amazing! Are you going to take the position?”
Sherlock didn’t answer for a moment, simply looking away as his hard drive raced, thinking of all the possible benefits and downsides to agreeing. He had already decided not to, in order to help his relationship with John, but that was before discovering John’s magical past.
Finally he looked back up at the retired Auror, his decision made.
”Yes, I plan on it. If you would like, I would appreciate it if you came with me. I’m positive that Mycroft could put in enough influence to get you on the staff, maybe as a helper for the Hospital Wing with your medical training, or-”
John interrupted him by putting a hand under Sherlock’s chin, raising it slightly, and pressing his lips softly against Sherlock’s. Sherlock smiled softly into the kiss, knowing John’s answer.