And the winner of the voting by a landslide is;


Mycroft/Harry was in second place, followed closely by John/Sherlock/Harry in third. And in last place with a total of 1 vote was Moriarty/Harry/Sherlock... which I must admit, gave me something to ponder over... but I will let another writer try their hand at that one!

I have to say, I nearly DIED reading some of these voting reviews! They are hilarious. I can honestly say I have the most awesome readers ever! They are more than worth their weight in gold. Thank all of you that voted and responded. Be assured that I read each one!

If you guys haven't given the reviews a read, please do! They are SOOO Worth it!

Now I promise not to waste anymore time, get Harry and Sherlock to meet as quickly as possible. SO NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO... ON WITH THE STORY! ^.^

P.s: In this story, Peter Pettigrew is still alive at the end of the battle of Hogwarts. I have my reasons.. ^.~ Enjoy!

Chapter 3; The Family Charm.

Sherlock Holmes was having a very strange day.

It had started off normally at first. He ate a very small breakfast, had his normal cup of coffee with two sugars, then a few cups of tea with lots of milk. He checked his website and the forums on it. That was until his father had called at around 9am. The conversation flowed with the normal with a string of cold insults and fiery anger on both sides. It ended after father threatened to lock him out of his trust fund and inheritance, or to take it away completely...

Sherlock didn't take the threats seriously. He didn't use that money anyway. He had supported himself by his own income for the past 3 years. But he decided it was best not to inform his father of that particular fact. He still made a mental note to try to find a flat mate soon, just incase his father DID follow through on his threat... For show, if nothing else.

It was after that phone call when the strange things started to happen. A brown barn owl flew past the front windows of 221b, obviously making its way further into central London.

Sherlock blinked and hesitated only for a moment. Then he shot up like a cannon and opened the window, looking out into the street. Sure enough, there was the brown barn owl flying further away. Sherlock's blue eyes locked on the flighty thing until it disappeared behind two stone buildings. It was an unusual sight to say the least...

It was not only the fact he spotted a brown barn owl in central London. Or that it was out during the day when owls where nocturnal creatures. It was that he swore that he saw a LETTER in its talons... As if it was delivering it. Delivering it to somewhere north of Central London. Somewhere between those two stone buildings.

Sherlock shook his head, and closed the window. It wouldn't do to ponder on this now; He was sure that he had more important things to concern himself with then some Messenger Owl. He went back to his computer and website hoping to find a good case for himself. This worked for about half and hour when more owls swooped past his windows. Then more and more, to a constant stream, til owls were zooming through the air nonstop over the next few hours... The owls were then joined by Eagles, Ravens, and the rare Exotic bird. Some holding letters, most carrying faded brown rolls that Sherlock though eerily resembled newspapers...

If that alone wasn't enough to bother Sherlock, what happened at noon certainly did. If he had thought that the owls were out-of-place, it was nothing to what occurred afterward. He was walking down an alley in Bond street, following a lead he had gotten on the theft of some very high-priced items from the stores when it happen. When he witnessed one of oddest scenes he had ever beheld in his life...

A group of people arresting a rat.

No play on words, no misreading the scene or trick of the mind... He had ACTULLY seen group of people arresting a rat.

He was on Bond street, on a case of repeated theft from the high-end stores that lined both sides of the avenue. He was making his way down the alley to look at the loading docks, and see if he could find any clues there. It was then that he heard the footfalls of people running towards the alley entrance... He jumped quickly into the dark space between a in-set door and a stack of wooden pallets. He ducked down a far bit, just to be sure he was completely hidden.

The rat made it into the alley first, panicked and running as if the hounds of hell were on its worm-like tail.

It was then that four people Sherlock assumed where officers ran around the corner into the alley as well. A dark-skin man in an ethnic robe who was obviously in charge was first. Followed closely by a trench-coat wearing gentleman with wide-set eyes and a younger man in an odd jacket that was just as long as the others. In the rear, guarding the backs of her allies was a woman with striking blonde hair, in a red outfit that Sherlock could only place as strange outdated dress.. Robe-like in its own way, oddly enough.

The four officers cornered the rat fairly quickly at the end of the alley as Sherlock got the in-set door unlocked, just as they where reading the rodent his rights, Sherlock slipped away and shut the door behind him. He stilled on the other side of the door. He blinked wildly and reviewed what he had witnessed over and over in his head; trying to find some logical explanation.

A game?.. No, all four were adults, and officials in some capacity.

A prank? On who? The Rat? No...

A training exercise?... No, they wouldn't read it his rights, and the officers were very serious.

A random act of rodent entrapment? No, obviously not...

There he stood there another few minutes mulling the scene over and over in his mind, trying to find a logical explanation. After a few moments, he sighed. His uncle's voice sounded in the back of his head.

'When you have excluded all other possibilities, Sherlock.. Whatever is left, however improbable it may be, must be the truth.' And the truth was exactly what he had seen. Four people arresting a rat. Their was no other possibility. At least not at the current time...

Sherlock needed more data. There had to be another, more reasonable explanation to these happenings... The owls, the other birds, the rat, the officers. All of it. With that in mind, He headed deeper into the store. Making a note to make a detour before heading home... A detour just North of Central London.

'She-Harry' had been given a sleeping potion and tucked into the cot that they always used when she ended up in the hospital wing.

After they had realized that Harry had been blessed, they had put her on lock down. She had been informed that during the next 24 hours her magic would be very unstable, and VERY powerful. If anyone got to close, it could lash out and hurt them, or worse, latch ON and try to bond with a person before 'She-Harry' was ready, or even consented. 'The Ardor,' Madam Pomfrey warned, 'Has a mind of its own. Or so I'm told... You may not want to bond or blast a person without warning, But that doesn't mean the Ardor won't. After a day, when it has settled down, it won't be anywhere near as volatile.'

'She-Harry' wasn't feeling inclined to argue.. The thick, strong magic swirled around her new body was more the proof enough that what Pomfrey said was true. And that it seemed to be moving on its own, nudging and shuffling into her body, as if it was acalumniating itself to its new home.

She had rest for a good 4 hours after being given the news of the 'blessing' and was lucky enough not to have total freaked out. In fact, 'She-Harry' was still numb and in shock when she had finally fallen asleep.

Posted around her cot in different places where 5 red-headed guards, headed by the mother of all but one of them, and wife to the last. Molly was on red alert at the front of the cot; her eyes not just on the girl, but all the others in the room. Hawks would be jealous if they saw the alertness of The Weasley Matriarch now. Nothing was escaping her notice. And it was no wonder.. It seemed losing one child today was more than enough for her.

Sitting to the left of the cot, writing furiously, was Arthur, The Patriarch. His head down, and his mind on his quill. He was writing an owl to a few friends and connections he knew at the Ministry, more than one he knew would help with getting and protection that Harry would need, and need very soon. The newly blessed girl had to be protected; By the law and outside of the law if necessary... Harry was important to them; As a person, as well as a 7th son.. Or second daughter, as the case may now be.

He was unable to help the golden trio when they where on the run. He was helpless to stop them from joining the battle of Hogwarts, and he had already failed Harry by not taking him out of the Dursleys years and years ago... He was not going to fail the 17-year-old now.

Bill, Ron and Charlie stood off to the right, talking about what they could do. They knew right off that 'She-Harry' would need an Honor Guard... More like a "Defend-Her-honor" Guard... Once the news got out about 'She-Harry' wizards would start pouring in from all over to win her hand. Dark wizards, Light wizards, Wizards from all over the World... All of them would be after her in one way or another, and not all of them could be expected to play fair.

"Love potions and compulsion charms will be probably be attempted the most. We need to watch everything he - She, sorry Charlie.. - eats and touches. Any gifts, treats, or trinkets. That goes double for items that someone tries to hand her themselves. They will have to go through someone else first. Even handshakes should be forbidden... It's not hard to put a compulsion charm on a ring, then touch the intended target." Bill started. Charlie and Ron nodded right away.

"We should set up a monitoring charm on Harry, just in case. One that will tell us if any spell or potion is effecting her... and by anything, I mean anything. Even a cheering charm. 'Moine could set us up with one. Even so, I think at least one of us should be with Harry at all times. Three or four of us, if she's out in public." Ron added.

"Yes, yes; All well and good; But don't you think we should get Harry's approval before we do all of this?! It is her that all of this stuff is happening too..." Charlie said, as he stared his two brother down. "I mean.. She has no clue about what a blessed is, let alone what being one entitles OR what they are entitled to! She can handle this a few different ways; one of two of them WITHOUT the need for a 'Potter secret service!'" Charlie snapped angrily at his two brothers.

Ron and Bill both looked more than a little ashamed. Charlie was right... The really should have waited until Harry woke up before they started discussing this... maybe they had jumped the gun a bit. Ron took a deep sad breath. He looked at his best friend for the past seven years and sighed... He knew he was being more overprotective than normal, but.. Well, given the past few months, Could you blame him!?

Bill just gave a stressed tug of his hair, as he watch his mother drive away another two students who were trying to sneak in to see the new Harry Potter.

"Charlie, I understand what you are saying.. and yes, Harry SHOULD have a hand in what happens..." Arthur said as he placed down his quill to look at second oldest. "But the fact of the matter is WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME... We have to start acting now, For Harry's best interest."

"There is ALWAYS enough time!" Charlie protested, and his father quickly glared at him.

"The Ministry is still filled with Voldermort's followers, the battle has only just ended, and we haven't even had a chance to count our lost and wounded. Harry is still listed as the ministry number one enemy. Now count in the other issues just cropped up from Harry becoming a blessed. Now, Son, you tell ME... Do we have a moment to waste? Do you really want to just sit here and count on a Ministry that is falling to shambles, Trust people who might be followers of He-who-must-not-be-named, In a castle that has just this night, Had its wards destroyed and has nearly been destroyed itself? They are STILL put the fires in the east tower out!"

Charlie opened his mouth, it was obvious that he was going to say something... But after a few moments, He zipped his lips and sighed.

"I still don't like it, Dad... I Still, really REALLY don't like it."

"Nether do I, Charlie... but there is not much else we can do."

"Perhaps I can offer some assistance..." Said a feminine voice. All 4 men turned and looked to the source, three quickly raised there eyebrows.

The woman standing next to Molly Weasely was fairly normal sized, with dark brown hair that was smooth and styled. She was wearing a muggle dress-suit that fitted her well and made her look professional and fetching at the same time. and in her hand was a blackberry.

"I'd be glad to help... Me and my employer feel that we owe Her, and all of you, a great deal for what you've done . He would like to meet with the new Miss. Potter himself, Tonight actually, and I assure you he will be more than willing to aid you all in any way that he can."

"And... Who the hell are you?!" Ron asked, almost snappish.

"A fellow witch who only wants to help..." She stated, to Ron's embarrassment.

"But for now... you can call me Anthea."

"THEN I followed the path to the north, where there were more people in similar dress. They were just walking down the street, chatting and such... but the things they where SAYING."

Mycroft inwardly groaned as Sherlock continued to rant in front of him. He knew it was too much to hope that his little brother would miss the signs that the second wizard war had ended. But disinterest, or even avoidance wouldn't have been too out of the question... But after bursting into his office, and reciting all the clues and data that he had acquired dropped Mycroft out of his dream world where his brother DIDN'T get himself into a whole new world of trouble.

"I can't believe it is over, Potter won, always knew he could do it, took his sweet time, we are all free, it's really over, wonder who is going to take office now, Ect, ect..." Sherlock listed in his deep dramatic voice.

Sherlock circled his brother's desk like a vulture. Mycroft knew this game.. Knew it all to well. He kept himself completely relaxed and unresponsive to Sherlock's jibs. His brother was hunting for information, and Mycroft absolutely refused to fuel the fire his brother was fanning for himself.

So he sat still, and let his brother rant. About the people, about the arrest of a rat, The owls, the other birds, and the missing pieces Sherlock just couldn't put his finger on. Mycroft listened and sat calmly, but inside he was a storm cloud. His brother was heading down a path that could get him killed, or worse get his memory wiped. And to a Holmes, ANY Holmes their mind was not only their greatest asset, but there most powerful weapon... His brother could end up defenseless.

But Sherlock had found something... A Mystery of epic proportions. One that Mycroft was sure he was never let go off. one that could end up destroying everything his brother was. Mycroft knew he couldn't stop his brother from looking, and eventually finding the truth. The only question now was how to best protect his brother from the fallout. He had to handle this very, VERY carefully.

He pondered this over as his listened to his brother list, rant, and deduce everything that he had witnessed that day. It was only when Sherlock was leaving (Heading to Saint Bart's laboratory if the call from a Miss Molly Harper any clue) that Mycroft spoke.

"You know... You really should follow through on looking for that flat mate. I know you are considering one after your.. loud.. phone conversation with our dear father this morning."

Sherlock froze halfway out the door, then turned to glare at him. Mycroft knew that look all to well... He was furious at his brother for speaking to him right before he left, when he refused to give up any data while he was there, talking, for over ten minutes. Mycroft took the glare in stride as his brother grew more and more annoyed.

"Of course I'm going to follow through on it... Though I don't expect much success."

"Oh? And why not?.."

"Because, Mycroft..." Sherlock said, and he adjusted his scarf and collar and exited. "... Who would ever want me for a flatmate?..."

Later that night, before the meeting he had arranged that morning but after Sherlock had completed his work at St. Barts, Mycroft was texted the answer to that very question;

Captain John Watson..