obliviate // potterlock

c h a p t e r 7

Sherlock walks into the great hall bright and early the next day, for once feeling refreshed after a deep sleep. He notices that none of his other friends have arrived, and with a sigh he walks over to their usual seats. The great hall is quite empty, even some teachers haven't arrived yet. Professor Magnussen, the potions teacher and head of Slytherin house, sits at the professors table biting into a piece of heavily buttered toast, humming a small tune. Sherlock also notices Mycroft sitting opposite Mary Morstan on the Slytherin table, conversing lightly.

Mycroft's eyes shift across the room, and notice his younger brother sitting alone on the Gryffindor table. Mycroft sighs.

"Why does he sit there?" Mary questions quietly, staring curiously at her friends little brother. "He isn't even in Gryffindor."

"It appears my brother has a tenacity to pushing away members of his own house. In his third year, he made it very apparent to those two kids Donavon and Anderson that  they didn't deserve to be in the house, causing a huge uproar with everyone. Sherlock came home begging to have his own personal house!" Mary sniggers, pushing a spoonful of granola into her mouth.

"He does get along with that Powers kid though right?" Mary asks. Mycroft sighs, noticing his little brother hasn't eaten anything since he's arrived here. In fact, Mycroft doesn't think he ever sees him eating.

"Yeah well, we both know what happened to him don't we." Mycroft and Mary share a worried glance, not daring to talk about the subject anymore. "It's got me worried about Sherlock." Mycroft continues vaguely.

"How so?" Mary questions.

"Well... Sherlock has a knack at getting involved with the wrong sort."

"His current friends seem okay. That Hufflepuff girl has a huge crush on him, that's obvious. And Watson, even though he's a pompous prick, has stuck up for him more than once. And the other one... what's his name..."

"Gregory." Mycroft mutters with a small smile.

"Right...gregory." Mary grins suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows up and down. Mycroft scoffs at her attitude. "Well Gregory seems loyal enough. Who are you worried about?"

Mycroft pauses, looking out of the corner of his eye further down the Slytherin table. There sits the dark haired James Moriarty, leaning his chin on his hand and staring at something in front of him. And that something appears to be Mycroft's little brother.

"A spider."

☆☆☆

John, Greg and Molly walk into the great hall around ten minutes later; John with Greg in a headlock, Greg whining for John to let go of him, and Molly paying no attention to the gryffindors. As soon as Molly notices Sherlock sitting all alone, a smile appears on her lips, and she skips over to the ravenclaw to sit in the seat beside him.

"Good morning Sherlock." Molly beams, shuffling a little closer to the boy on the bench. There knees touch. Sherlock, as always, is oblivious. Molly's heart pumps rapidly in her chest.

"Morning." Sherlock replies nonchalantly. Molly frowns when Sherlock doesn't even look at her to say hello, but she swallows down her hurt feelings. 'Sherlock wouldn't even notice I'm hurt anyway.' Molly thinks sadly.

John finally releases his death grip around Greg's neck with a loud cackle, and strides towards his two other friends. Greg scoffs, running his fingers through his hair to make it presentable again, and sits down with the rest of his friends.