Turn Back Time (Potterlock)

Rattle the cage, and slam that door

Hey guys, I'm still alive! And I've finally updated! Yay! Metaphorical hedgehogs for everybody as a celebration! Unless you don't like hedgehogs, in which case you can have a metaphorical otter. (This is the moment when you back away, going "Do I know this person?") (Yes, you unfortunately do. Ish, anyway.)

All those codes Sherlock and I had made up, all the codes we had had to stop using due to his lack of sight, they were all gone. John, Sherlock and I had tried to make up a new one, but we gave up.

A few days after the Moriarty incident, which luckily hadn't resulted in anyone getting hurt, I was sitting next to Sherlock and across from John, at the end of the Ravenclaw table.

John and I were doing homework, and Sherlock was resting his head on his arms.

I tapped on the desk with my fingernail. Ok?

"Fine, Henry, fine." Sherlock muttered, bored.

I turned back to my role of parchment, and my DADA homework.

I became aware that Sherlock was tapping on the table very quietly.
.. / .-.. --- ...- . /
I sat, listening, my quill still for a moment, pretending that I was thinking about what to write next.
.--- .--
The tapping formed the words in my brain 'I love JW.' John Watson. I smiled.

I heard John kick his foot against the bottom of the bench in frustration at his homework.

And again. Why? I thought.

By the time I had realised that he too was doing morse, I just heard the '-love SH'. Sherlock smiled at that.

Greg slipped onto the bench next to John. "Have any of you seen Mycroft?" he asked.

"No." I replied. "Try the library."

Greg nodded, but at that moment Mycroft said "Try the library for whom?"

"You." I said.

"Oh, well, I'm here." Mycroft said, sitting next to Greg.

"Unfortunately." Sherlock muttered. He then scowled angrily, after flinching. Presumably Mycroft had kicked him.

"Holmes?" McGonagall said, frowning at the headboy's behaviour.

"Which one?" Mycroft asked.

McGonagall consulted her role of parchment. "Henrietta, William, and Mycroft. That's all three of you, I believe."

"William?" John asked, confuzzled (Yeah, it is a word, get over it) , as we stood up.

"Long story." Sherlock said, while I packed my stuff into my satchel.

We followed the deputy head to the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

"Mint imperial." McGonagall said to the gargoyle.

We walked up the stairs, and she knocked on the door.

"Come in." came the headmaster's voice.

Sherlock and I followed Mycroft into the room. McGonagall left, trying not to let the door slam.
"Ah. Mycroft." Professor Dumbledore nodded. "Sherlock. Henrietta." He smiled.

"Professor." Mycroft said.

"Sit." we did. "Do you want a sherbet lemon?" Professor Dumbledore asked, offering us some.
Sherlock and I accepted, but Mycroft declined. He probably thought himself too old. Well, if Dumbledore isn't too old, no one is. Sure enough, Dumbledore also had one.

"Well, how are you all?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"Fine, thank you professor." Mycroft said politely.

"Ok." I said.

But of course Sherlock did away with the manners. "If you have something to tell us, Sir, please get on with it, and tell us now."

Surprisingly, Dumbledore just smiled.   "Of course. Now. This may come to a shock to you all, but, for some reason, Fudge, who is the Minister of Magic,"
(Sherlock groaned quietly, oblivious wanting to say 'get on with it')
"..Has decided to free some of the prisoners from Azkaban. (probably to lure Black into a false sense of security.) All but one of this prisoners are luckily harmless..." he stopped, calculating what he would say next.

But I was several steps ahead of him. "And this one, you're saying that it's my father."

Sherlock looked like a rabbit caught in the lumos spell. Scared to Tartarus.
I too dreaded the inevitable answer.

Dumbledore bowed his head for a moment, before looking at us, and nodding. "Yes."