SuperPotterLock- The Prisoner of Azkaban

The Firebolt

Harry went back through Honeydukes while the rest of them walked silently back to the castle.

'That's mental, that is,' Ron said after a while.

'You can say that again,' Dean said with a slight nervous chuckle.

'Nothing we didn't already know, though,' John grimaced.

'What are you talking about?' said Dean, stopping to look at him and causing the rest of them to stop with him.

'We- we heard McGonagall talking about it with Dumbledore, remember? That night with the Fat Lady,' John said haltingly.

'That's not-'

Sherlock held a hand up to shush him. 'That was just you and I,' he said quickly. 'No one else heard.'

'Yeah but we told everyone after, didn't we?'

'We didn't think it would be wise to let Harry know while Black is after him.'

'Oh. Okay.'

'We should go if we want to make it back in time for dinner.'

John shrugged. 'All right.' He moved forward and Sherlock let out a small sigh of relief, catching Castiel's eye briefly before continuing on.

After dinner, Dean coughed his way through the common room in which Fred and George had let off half a dozen dung bombs, to make sure all of his things were packed. On his way down, he stopped in to check on Harry, who had hidden himself away in the dormitory, and found John putting on his pyjamas.

'He's asleep,' John said, gesturing at Harry's bed, curtains closed.

'What are you doing?'

'Oh, I've just got a headache. Those dung bombs did not help. Might as well try to sleep it off.'

'Yeah.'

John considered him for a moment. 'You ever get the feeling that something bad's going to happen?'

'Sure, but I call that anxiety.'

'So you think everything's fine?'

'Yeah, why wouldn't it be?'

'I don't know, I just...'

'Can't shake the feeling?'

John nodded.

'Well, not much advice I can give you but get some sleep. You look like you need it.'

'Great, thanks,' John said sarcastically.

'Sorry, man,' Dean snorted. 'All right, well I'll see you after Christmas then. Have a good one.'

John smiled at him as he left and tried to ignore the sense of foreboding collecting in the back of his head.

John woke up early the next morning and bedecked himself in as many layers as possible so that he could sit by the peaceful lake. He didn't feel particularly hungry, so he watched the giant squid drift around under the thin surface ice while everyone else had breakfast. He was still there when all the students going home for the holidays streamed out of the castle, and didn't move when Sherlock sat down beside him. 'What are you doing here?' he asked, feeling Sherlock's warmth against his shoulder.

'I could ask you the same question.'

'I feel funny.'

'In what way?'

He sighed and leaned into Sherlock. 'It's like I'm in a dream. Everything's misty.'

They stayed that way for a while, keeping each other warm until they heard a flutter of wings. They looked up and saw an owl with a letter in its beak gliding over their heads.