APPROXIMATELY SEVEN YEARS EARLIER

John ran full speed towards the brick wall, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt a peculiar feeling as he passed through the wall, then emerged on the other side, Platform 9 3/4, crowded with witches and wizards on the first day of a new year.
"See? It's easy!" Harry exclaimed. She had gone through before him.
"Of course it's easy for you, you've been doing it for three years!" John responded.
"Come on, it's just running through a wall! What's hard about that?" she asked.
"Can we not fight, please?" Mum said, coming through behind them.
"It's not me! He started it!" Harry accused.
"No I didn't!" he protested.
"I don't care who started it. Both of you, stop."
"Whatever. I have to go, Mum. I'm meeting a friend. Bye!" Harry told, then ran off before Mum could say anything in return.
"That sister of yours. Always rushing around," Mum sighed distractedly.
Across the platform, John spotted a boy, about his age. Their gazes locked, and John got a... feeling. The boy had curly black hair and eyes that were a color John couldn't even describe. This boy was different than anyone else John had ever met, but he wasn't sure how. He just knew.
"Well, you better get going. If you wait much longer, you won't get a good seat," Mum advised.
"Okay! Bye, Mum! I'll see you at Christmas!" John said smiling.
"Don't forget to write, and be careful! Don't put yourself in any danger. Harry told me that it can be dangerous at that school, and I don't want anything to happen to you."
"I'll be fine, Mum. You worry too much. See you!" John left his mum on the platform and boarded the train. He quickly found an empty compartment and prepared for the long ride ahead. He had brought some of his favorite books, and he opened one of the Supernatural books he liked and started reading.
The whistle blew, signalling that the train was departing from the station. As the train started rolling, the door to his compartment was flung open briefly and the boy he saw on the platform came in, shutting the door behind him and flowing down on the seat across from him.
"Hey," John greeted awkwardly.
"Do not feel the need to make conversation. We are not, and never will be, friends," the boy spat angrily. John was surprised at the hate in the boy's tone. Had he done something wrong?
He kept reading for a few minutes before feeling the need to do something to lift the tension in the compartment.
"I'm, um, John Watson, by the way. What's your name?" he asked brightly.
"Sherlock Holmes," the boy told without looking up. He was reading some textbook, Moste Potente Potions.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Sherlock," John said, smiling. The boy looked at him in confusion, sitting up and closing his textbook.
"Father or mother?" he questioned.
"What?"
"Which of your parents was magical, father or mother?" Sherlock clarified.
"My dad was, but how did you know?"
"It was easy, really. I knew you couldn't be a pureblood. If you were, you would have been cowering in fright when I told you my name. I would say you're Muggleborn, but your older sister is a witch. The odds of having two Muggleborn sibling are astronomical, so halfblood, but raised like a Muggle. I thought it was your father, but I had to check. I saw your mother on the platform, and she hardly looked like a witch."
"That was bloody amazing!" John declared.
"Really?" Sherlock asked, look of shock on his face.
"Yeah, it was!"
"That's not what people usually say."
"What do people usually say?"
"Piss off, freak!"
"Well, people are stupid, then," John said.
"Yes, they are," Sherlock agreed.
"Why should I have been cowering in fear when you told me your name?" he asked.
"My family is relatively famous. I don't want to talk about them," Sherlock told.
"Alright." John went back to his book.
"What are you reading?" Sherlock asked, glancing over curiously.
"Oh, the Supernatural series by Carver Edlund. It's about these brothers who travel around America and kill demons and ghosts," John explained, "It's really good."
"It sounds unrealistic. Demons and ghosts don't exist," Sherlock scoffed, then hesitated, "Do you think I could borrow the first one?"
"Yeah, sure!" John agreed, jumping up and opening his trunk, rummaging through it and removing the first book, passing it to Sherlock, who opened it and started reading.
The two boys spent most of the rest of the ride reading. They stopped several times, once to get food from the trolley (John liked the Chocolate Frogs, while Sherlock preferred Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans), twice to get Sherlock the next book in the series (somehow, he was already on book three), and once when they were approaching the school, to change into their robes.
As the train rolled into the station, Sherlock attempted to give the book back to John, but he vehemently shook his head.
"Keep it until you finish," he ordered, "You can borrow the other ones when you want, too. I have all of them up to Lucifer Rising.
As they got off the train, they spotted a large bearded man yelling, "Firs' years this way!" They followed him over to the lake, where they all had to get into boats in groups of four. Sherlock and John were in a boat with two girls, Molly and Sarah, who spent the whole time whispering to each other.
"Rubeus Hagrid," Sherlock said randomly.
"What?"
"That man is Rubeus Hagrid. He's officially the groundskeeper, and also teaches Care of Magical Creatures. He's half giant," Sherlock explained.
"Oh. That's cool. How do you know all of that?"
"I have a brother in the fifth year. I interrogated him before coming here. I know everything of importance about this school."
The boats reached the other side of the lake, and everyone carefully got out except for one boy, who clumsily tripped ad fell in the lake. Once he was safely back on the shore, the group started trekking up to the castle for the 'Sorting Ceremony', which sounded intimidating, but Sherlock assured him that all you actually had to do was try on a hat.
The group of first years was led into the school and into a small room, where we were told to wait for the Deputy Headmistress to come and get them.
As soon as Professor Hagrid left the room, whispers broke out among the students, and a distinctive line was formed between John and Sherlock and the rest of the students. Everyone seemed to be avoiding Sherlock; could this have something to do with his family?
"Oi, Holmes!" one of the boys called, "Is it true you can do that thing where you look at a person and know everything about them?"
"Yes, it's true," he confirmed.
"How do you do it? Legilimency? Or something darker?" The boy's tone turned harsh.
"I'm not like that," he denied, gritting his teeth.
"Prove it, freak. Show me your forearm," the boy demanded. John did a mental double take. Was this boy insinuating that Sherlock is a Death Eater? But those don't even exist anymore! They fell when He Who Must Not Be Named fell, just over seven years ago! And even if they were still active, why would Sherlock, of all people, be one?
Luckily, the Deputy Headmistress walked in before anything could happen.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, everyone! My name is Professor Hudson, Muggle Studies teacher and Head of Hufflepuff House. I'm sure you're all excited for the Sorting Ceremony, so we'll head into the Great Hall right away!"
She led us into the Great Hall, where we gathered around a tattered hat on a stool. The Hall fell silent as a rip near the brim of the hat opened, and it started to sing.

There was a time, seven years ago
When Hogwarts was under attack
Our luck was running low
Our school went off track
Darkness fell upon the land
As You-Know-Who rose to power
But together, we did band
Never did we cower
The heroes of our age stood up
Fought back against the slow burn
Book, ring, locket, cup
Snake, crown, were all broken in turn
Potter the hero, faced him down
The dark wizard, made mortal again
He fought hard, but his spell did rebound
By Potter's wand he was slain
Now, our school stands proud
Rebuilt stronger than ever
We cheer and sing loud
Us, give up? Never!
You lot are our newest batch
And we'll train you best that we can
Skill that no other can match
Helping you succeed is our plan
So sit down and place me on your head
I'll search through your mind
I promise, you won't be misled
The sound of applause resounded through the Hall as the hat finished singing. According to Harry, the hat used to sing about the founders, but had changed it's theme after the war.
Professor Hudson unrolled a scroll and started calling the names of students, going in alphabetical order by last name. John would be almost last, then. He watched as students were Sorted. He heard muttering from beside him, and realized that Sherlock was predicting which House each student would be Sorted into.
"Adler, Irene!"
"Slytherin."
"SLYTHERIN!"
"Anderson, Phillip!"
"Gryffindor."
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Donovan, Sally!"
"Gryffindor."
"GRYFFINDOR!"
And then, "Holmes, Sherlock!" was called, and John was left alone as his friend approached the stool. The hat was lowered onto his head, and John was suddenly nervous. What if him and Sherlock weren't in the same House? Well, it was unlikely that they would be, they were practically polar opposites, but John was worried that they would both have trouble making other friends.
The hat took a while deciding on Sherlock's House. He could see Sherlock's lips moving, having a conversation with the hat but he was too far away to read his lips.
Finally, the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!" and John's heart plummeted. He knew he wouldn't be Sorted into Slytherin. Him and Sherlock would be separated, then. The Sorting continued, slowly drawing closer to John's name.
"Hooper, Molly!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Moran, Sebastian!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Morstan, Mary!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Sawyer, Sarah!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
Finally, it was John's turn, and he nervously approached the stool, sitting down, and the hat was lowered down onto his head.
"Oh, interesting! Your mind is interesting, indeed. Courage is abundant, yes. Loyalty, another strong trait. Clever as well. You are a very rounded individual, the makings of a hero. The trouble is, where do I put you to make you that hero? You would be alright in any House, John Watson. But which one would be best? Hmm, difficult, difficult. I think..." It raised it's voice so that everyone could hear, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The hat was lifted off his head, and he quickly joined his new House, sitting next to some of the other first years. He was the last one Sorted, and the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, stood up, and the Hall fell silent.
"Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts. I'm sure you are all waiting patiently to eat, so I will give my speech after the meal. Until then, enjoy the food!"
An assortment of food appeared on the plates in front of them, and John eagerly started loading his plate. While he ate, he talked with the people around him: Phillip, Sally, and Mary. They seemed like nice people; maybe he wouldn't have as much trouble making friends as he had expected. He glanced over at Sherlock and was surprised (okay, not surprised) to see the boy completely alone, ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him.
"Why are you looking at him?" Sally asked.
"Because he's my friend," John answered.
"Don't waste your time making friends with that freak," Phillip scoffed.
"Trust me. His parents are Death Eates. Darkness is in his blood. Stick with him, and you'll end up dead... if you're lucky," Sally warned.
"Thanks, but I think I'll judge him for his actions, not the actions of his parents," John said coolly.
Sally shrugged and went back to her food, but John heard her mutter, "Your funeral."
Soon, everyone had finished eating, and Headmistress McGonagall stood up again.
"First of all, I would like to welcome the first years to our school. I hope you will enjoy it here and learn everything you need to be successful. I would like to inform you, as well as remind a few of our older students, that the Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, Forbidden. Also, the staff room, as well as individual offices, are out of bounds unless express permission is given by a teacher. In other news, Quidditch tryouts begin next week. I would like to clarify that although first years are not allowed their own brooms, they are allowed to try out. Finally, Mr Filch would like me to remind you that Weasley products are strictly prohibited, as well as 591 other items. The complete list of banned items can be viewed in Mr Filch's office. Now, prefects, please escort the first years to the common rooms. I hope we have a productive year here at Hogwarts."
Everyone started talking and standing up again. John stayed with his little group of first years, following a prefect to their common room, which was concealed behind the painting of the Fat Lady that Harry had told him about.
The prefect gave the password, "Venemous Tentacula," and the painting swung open. They all piled inside, and the prefect pointed in the direction of their dorms. John went up to the dorm; it was a cozy-feeling room with five four-poster beds. As people started coming in, he found out he shared the room with Phillip and three other boys, Mike, Sebastian, and Jesse. He crawled into bed, closing the hangings on his bed, and went to sleep, excited for tomorrow: his first day of classes.

A/N: In case it wasn't obvious, the beginning was way in the future, and this is going to be about them all at Hogwarts, leading up to that first chapter. I'm sorry if updates take awhile, from now on each chapter's gonna cover about half a year and therefore will take awhile to write. Please leave feedback, I always like to know what you all think of my stuff. That's all for now, have a lovely day.