Hogwarts

Mycroft and Umbridge

When John woke up he wondered why it was so dark, thinking it was still night time, but then he realized the sunlight was being blocked by the curtains around his bed. Last night rushed back to him, and a new flare of anger ignited in his mind, Mycroft. He pulled open his curtains to find that Greg’s bed was the only one empty, which meant he was probably at breakfast already, getting fed by Mycroft with little chocolate covered strawberries. He changed into his robes and grabbed his bag, walking down into the common room. Greg was nowhere to be found, and John tried to ignore the feeling of loneliness the usually cheerful common room brought. He went down to breakfast alone, immediately looking around to try to find Greg, if he was anywhere to be found. But he wasn’t at breakfast, and once John scanned the Ravenclaw table, where Mycroft belonged to, according to his robes, he was missing too. John sat down next to Mike Stamford, who was his sort of back up friend if Greg ever left him.
“Hey John.” He said.
“Hey.” John muttered, dumping his bag on the floor by his feet and taking a piece of toast, spreading jam on it a little bit aggressively.
“Everything okay? I saw Greg go outside with someone, I assumed it was you, but I guess not.” Mike said. John looked out the windows, as Greg would be visible, but he couldn’t see anything.
“Greg has found himself a new friend, or at least that’s what he calls him, I suspect they are more than friends.” John hissed.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” Mike said. John would’ve pointed out that it was the no good stuck up Head Boy, but he decided that should stay between the three of them. Joh bit into his toast, not responding. He scanned the room one more time, but his worst fears had been realized, they had left together. He noticed, to his anger, like he needed more, Sherlock staring right at him again. He clenched his fists, crumbling his toast into a shower of crumbs and jam. It would be one thing if he had to deal with one of them, but both of them was unacceptable. He fought the urge to get up and jinx him from here, but decided not to bring much attention to himself. They had Charms together, he’d confront after that, but he was definitely going to pretend that he didn’t exist until then.
“I’m not hungry.” John decided, grabbing his bag and walking up to the common room alone. He threw his bag on the chair and went to the window, not knowing if he wanted to see them or not. To his somewhat relief, Greg and Mycroft weren’t in sight.
“Are you looking for someone?” Greg’s voice asked behind him. John turned around, and Greg, whether or not he liked it, was standing behind him. Thankfully Mycroft wasn’t at his side.
“Where have you been?” John asked, wondering whether or not Greg was going to tell him the truth.
“I’ve been talking with Mycroft; he’s a very interesting person.” Greg said simply.
“Oh, what were you talking about exactly?”
“NEWTS.” Greg answered.
“Fascinating.” John said with sarcasm.
“Well, I’m willing to bet that you’ve spent this whole time scowling and holding grudges against everyone.” Greg guessed.
“Then you’d be correct.” John said. Greg took a moment to think about what he was going to say, wobbling back and forth on his feet.
“Why don’t you like Mycroft?” he asked.
“Because he was very rude to me back at the Whomping Willow, I had just saved his brother.” John pointed out.
“Well, he did thank you at the quidditch field.” Greg pointed out.
“Because you were there and he wanted to look god in front of you.” John pointed out.
“That’s rubbish; he’s a very nice person!” Greg defended.
“Do you fancy Mycroft?” John asked with disgust.
“Of course not! He’s a friend, like you are a friend, even though you’re not acting like it at the moment.” Greg said with a frown. John didn’t have a defense for that, yes, he was acting childish, and maybe he was a little jealous, but that doesn’t permit Greg to leave him for some stuck up brat.
“We should get to Defense Against the Dark Arts.” He decided.
“That’s a very good reply John; it’s only proof that you know that you’re being a baby about all of this!” Greg called. John grabbed his school bag from the chair and didn’t wait for Greg; he walked out of the portrait hole, shutting it rather forcefully behind him, making the Fat Lady start scolding him. John ignored her; he hoped Greg got the message to not follow him immediately. When John walked into the classroom, the first thing he noticed was it had been transformed. All of the desks were lined up in perfectly aligned rows; there was a single chalkboard and a desk, and a small podium for lectures. Some of the other students were there, but the teacher was standing out the most. For one thing, she was wearing completely pink clothes; everything from her shoes to the bow placed on her toad like head was a bright, startling pink that made John want to find the nearest trash can. She smiled sweetly at him, but he could tell under all of that peaceful old lady disguise that she was immediately his second disliked teacher, after Snape of course.  He sat down in an empty seat, away from the group of Ravenclaws that had seated themselves in the middle. He secretly hoped Greg would sit next to him, but before Greg even appeared someone else took the seat. John almost got up to move away when he saw who it was, Sherlock Holmes, of all people.
“I’m guessing this seat isn’t taken seeing that you and Gavin had had a little bit of a fight.” Sherlock said in his deep know-it-all voice. John was considering telling this new professor that he had a stomach ache just to go down to the hospital wing.
“That doesn’t mean it’s available to anyone.” John replied.
“Oh, a little bit bitter I see.” Sherlock said with sarcastic sarcasm. He dropped his bag on the floor and put a quill and ink on his desk.
“Yes, I’m bitter, and I can tell you that you are not helping one bit, we don’t know each other, and I’d prefer to be alone.” John said.
“Well then, since my brother and your friend have seemed to like each other, I’d say it’s a good time to start knowing each other.” Sherlock decided.
“I didn’t ask you what you thought of it!” John hissed. But then Greg walked into the class, looked around, found John, and made sure to sit on the other side of the room.
“Worse than I thought then.” Sherlock said with a bit of amusement. John couldn’t kick him out now, not with Greg watching, he needed to look like he was better off without Greg. Before he could say anything to Sherlock though, the professor made a small squeaking noise to call order to the class. There was the occasional finish of a conversation after wards, but that was interrupted by a sharp bang overhead. John ducked in his seat, seeing that the professor had her wand in the air, having cast a firework or something.
“When the class has started, I want silence from all students.” She said in a high pitched, squeaky voice that didn’t go along with her toad like complexion. John fought the urge to cringe. There was silence now, they were probably all feeling the same way towards her as John was, hatred. He looked over to Greg for a second, who was also trying to catch his eye, and they exchanged a ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’ glance. Maybe this horrible teacher would actually bring them back together.
“I will be giving you new textbooks, ones that will be highlighting the main curriculum of this course. Wands away please.” She added. John tucked his wand into the pocket of his robe in doubt, wondering what on earth is wrong with this teacher. What type of Defense against the Dark Arts class doesn’t use wands? “My name is Professor Umbridge, I’m sure we’ll all end up being good friends.” She squeaked.
“I’d rather die.” Sherlock muttered to John, who did his best to resist edging his chair away.
“What was that, Mr.…” Umbridge said, looking Sherlock strait in the eyes.
“Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Ravenclaw.” Sherlock said with a smile that made Umbridge’s nostrils flare.
“Mr. Holmes, please keep your comments to yourself, it will greatly benefit this class.” She said.
“Understood.” Sherlock said. Umbridge gave him one last look and turned away to flick her wand at a stack of books. They started to hover through the aisle, distributing to each row of desks. When they finally got their books, John picked it up and read the title, Non-Magical Solutions to Everyday Problems. John looked up at Umbridge to see if she was joking, but she wore that idiotic smile that made John want to jinx her from where he sat. Greg looked at John from across the room, with the same amazed expression.
“What is this?” John muttered.
“No talking is required, thank you.” Umbridge said. John groaned, this would be a long class period. And so it was, all they did was take notes out of the book; it was like Muggle school all over again, except in muggle school it was the normal thing to do. Umbridge patrolled the aisles, overseeing everyone’s work and glaring at any student that had the guts to even cough. Sherlock finished his work a lot earlier than John thought to be possible, taking out a book and lounging in his chair. John fought the urge to copy off of his paper, but Umbridge swooped over and plucked his paper carefully off of the desk, as if she didn’t want to crinkle it. Her eyes scanned it, darting all over the place, but obviously to her disappointment she couldn’t find anything wrong. She set the paper back on the desk and left without a word. It took John another ten minutes to complete his paper, and he was sure he got half of it wrong. When they were dismissed, John grabbed his bag and made a beeline for the door, desperate to get out of there before Umbridge was able to assign them any homework. Greg met him at the door, and it seemed like the last couple of hours hadn’t existed.
“What does she think she’s doing?” Greg asked with a scowl.
“What type of class has no magic involved; it’s a school of witchcraft and wizardry!” John defended with disgust.
“That used to be a bearable class, the only one actually that I was able to look forward to.” Greg complained.
“Well she is certainly a treat isn’t she?” said a deep voice behind them. John turned, not surprised to see Sherlock behind them, leaning casually against the wall with his bag in his hand.
“Oh yay, well look who it is.” John said, not trying to hide his annoyance. Sherlock frowned at him.
“So sorry to disappoint.” Sherlock muttered, flipping his hair to the side so his curls almost covered his one eye. John tried his best to ignore that. “I was just coming to give my opinion of Professor Umbridge.”
“We don’t want your opinion Sherlock.” John hissed.
“John! What has gotten in to you lately?” Greg said with shock. Sherlock looked unfazed, as if he was used to being told that, and I it did affect him he was good at hiding it.
“I’m so sorry Sherlock, what is your opinion?” John said sarcastically.
“I think she’s an old hag.” Sherlock said with a smile. John couldn’t help respecting his nerve, but it didn’t make him any less annoying. And speaking of annoying, his hair was still covering his one eye, as if that made him look cool or something. Sherlock was the complete opposite of cool. Greg looked around to make sure no one was watching, especially Umbridge.
“You’ve got that right.” He agreed. Sherlock smiled at them and started walking off to his next class, which John hoped wasn’t with them. Their next class ended up being Herbology, which was with the Hufflepuffs, so thankfully no Sherlock. They were just pruning some weird plant that didn’t do anything, it was orange and it puffed bad smelling smoke at you if you let it get too withered. John didn’t get smoked, thankfully, but one of the Hufflepuffs did, and everyone in the greenhouse suffered the consequence of the smell, which smelled like rotten cheese and rotting meat, which mixed into a very unpleasant scent.  Greg and John worked together, John silently forgave Greg for the whole Mycroft thing, the shared hatred of Professor Umbridge would be enough to bring them together. If they were going to survive that class, they needed to get through together. That was as cheesy as it sounded in John’s head. When lunch came, John and Greg sat together, deciding to pass off the opportunity of going outside again, just in case they ran into the Holmes brothers again. John couldn’t help noticing that Greg’s eyes were sweeping the Great Hal when he thought John wasn’t looking, and John knew he was looking for Mycroft. Thankfully though, he didn’t show up, which made John feel a little bit better.
“So what’s after this?” John asked.
“More Transfiguration, and then Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.” Greg said, reading off of a slightly crumpled schedule he pulled out of his bag. Care of Magical Creatures was something to look forward to, even though it was a disaster of a class, Hagrid still taught it, which was always an experience.
“That’s not with Ravenclaw is it?” John asked hopefully.
“No, Slytherin.” Greg said with a bit of a shudder.
“Better than Sherlock.”
“Jim is better than Sherlock?” Greg asked doubtfully.
“Anyone is better than Sherlock.” John assured. The rest of the day went considerably slow, the time seemed to tick away at snail pace. John was looking forward for maybe some more quidditch; this time without Mycroft would be good. When they went down to dinner it was a Holmes free environment, which lightened up John’s spirits as he cut into his steak and potatoes.
“Care for some quidditch?” John asked as Greg finished off the last of his cherry pie.
“Sounds good to me, tryouts are coming up right?”
“Not for another week or two, we’ve got time, but it’s better to stay on top of things.” John decided. Greg and he went up to the dorms, grabbing their brooms from under their beds and the quaffle, dashing to the Entrance Hall in hopes of being the only ones down there. To John’s relief, there was no one around, just an empty stadium for them to enjoy. After about an hour or two playing keep away and taking shots on the hoops, Greg and John were once again dead tired, winded, and ready to go back in the castle. John hadn’t gained any goals from last time, he only got about five or six in, Greg was the best keeper in the whole school, and it showed.
“I’ll get it next time.” John decided.
“No you won’t.” Greg laughed, shoving him gently. They trudged back up to the castle without many words; John was definitely ready for bed. The castle was empty on the way back, and there were no annoying Holmes for the rest of the day.