The Battle

1. John

Hogwarts used to be wonderful.  It was my home away from home, and I knew I could always find help there. I discovered a whole new world my first year, filled with adventures I used to only dream about. Six wonderful years passed by somewhat peacefully with the occasional deadly conflict. Then the Death Eaters came. They showed up suddenly one day. The teachers tried to fight them off, but they soon realized the only way to protect the students would be to surrender. New rules made life at Hogwarts hell. My friends and I were too afraid to talk in the halls anymore because you never knew if something would offend a Death Eater passing by. Fear ruled almost all of our lives. Few students were brave enough to continue behaving as if the consequences didn't matter. Sherlock Holmes was one of them. He wasn't intimidated by the Death Eaters. He did what he wanted and dismissed the prospect of torture as an overused threat.
I saw Greg pass by me with just a nod of his head to acknowledge me. I nodded back as I hurried to the library. My potions homework was due after my next class, which would start in less than half an hour. I navigated the maze of corridors and then found an unoccupied desk in the library. I dropped my bag on the desk and sat down to work.
A few minutes later, a tall shadow spread across my homework, so I looked to see what was blocking the light. It was Sherlock looking over my shoulder at my book.
"Hello John," he said nonchalantly.
"Hey," I responded as I put my book down.
"Potions homework?" he asked.
"Yup."
"Do you need help?"
"No, but thanks." Sherlock looked slightly disappointed. He loved showing how smart he was, which seemed a bit arrogant to be honest. I didn't blame him though. If I was that smart, I would want to parade it around too.
"What have you been up to?" I asked him.
"Experiments and such," he said.
"You're going to get into trouble."
"I haven't been caught yet."
"Key word: yet."
"Exactly. I've escaped their notice for this long, so I still have a little while until anyone catches on to my scheme."
"I don't think you understand. They will get you if you're not careful."
"Well I am careful."
I rolled my eyes and said, "Fine. Go ahead and risk your life for the sixth time this week."
"You've been counting?"
"Yes."
"It has not been five times."
"Actually it has." I counted them on my fingers as I said, "First, you chased after that huge spider for its venom. Second, you stood on top of the Gryffindor tower to see how far the view went. Third-"
"Third was the fire crab, right?" he interrupted.
"Yes, and then there was handling a mandrake without earmuffs."
"Scientific inquiry. I've been researching deafness."
"And finally, you jumped in front of a bludger."
"It was headed for you." That was true, but I didn't want him to think it was okay to continue taking risks. He could really get into trouble. However, it was brave of him.
"Thank you for saving me," I said, "but you need to be careful."
"Don't lecture me about being careful, Mr Gryffindor. You used to be much more reckless than me." I shrugged, unable to deny that. Sherlock pushed my homework to one corner of the desk and sat on the area he had cleared. His legs dangled lazily, barely grazing the floor. I couldn't think of anything to say next.
"Have you read The Science Behind Magic?" Sherlock asked me.
"No," I said, glad to have something to talk about that didn't involve Death Eaters. "Tell me about it." Sherlock began summarizing the book. I didn't understand some of the concepts the book covered, but I still enjoyed hearing about it. Sherlock was excited to explain what he read, and I was just glad that he wasn't as melancholy as usual. I sat back in my seat just appreciating his company. He made swishy movements with his hands as he spoke, and his eyes lit up when he got to a part of the book he was particularly fond of. He was graceful and intelligent, and I realized he was swaying my focus. I had homework to do. What would it say about me if I prioritized Sherlock above urgent homework that could get me violently punished? I thought about that for a moment. Sherlock was talking about subjects that weren't necessary for me to know. However, I still had the break between next class and potions to do homework.
"John, are you listening?" Sherlock asked.
"I'm trying to," I said, "but it's a bit difficult."
"I didn't consider your prior knowledge of the subject. My apologies," said Sherlock. He paused, then said, "Weren't you doing homework?"
"Yeah, but I can do it later. If you simplify the book a little more, I think I'll understand it better," I told him.
"You're not completely uninterested?" he verified.
"No, no it's interesting," I reassured him, "It's just difficult to focus on."
"Why? Are you distracted by something else?" he asked. In all honesty, I was a little distracted from what he said by the way he said it. Could I tell him that? What did that even mean? I wanted to figure it out, but it was difficult after dismissing my feelings for years. Sherlock looked concerned by my ongoing silence. After admitting I hadn't understood, my choices were to either act like I didn't care about understanding what he said and finish a Death Eater's unfair assignment, or try to understand Sherlock and hope I could finish the assignment after my next class. I took a risk so I wouldn't sacrifice what was more valuable.
"It's nothing much. Do you mind starting over so I can make sense of your book?" I asked. Sherlock explained it more basically, and I finally got the idea. He smiled proudly. I looked at the clock on the wall and rushed to gather my books.
"I have Dark Arts class next," I told Sherlock.
"Ugh, good luck," he said. He jumped off of the desk and straightened his tie. "I should probably leave for class as well," he said with mock maturity, putting his nose in the air like his brother. I chuckled and shook my head. He was definitely not going to class, but I wouldn't change his mind. I was not eager to go through my next demented class, but saying so would get me in trouble, especially since there was a Death Eater eavesdropping. He must have been one of the better ones since he hadn't turned Sherlock in for the experiments we were just discussing. His newly arrived friend however was scanning the library barking at anyone still here, so I said goodbye to Sherlock and hurried down the corridors. A Death Eater pulled a girl by the hair, and another held two broken wands. I avoided eye contact and took the quickest route to  the Dark Arts classroom. If I had made it to the last week of school, I could make it to the end.