Sherlock stormed through the halls, fuming all the way. He bumped into other kids now and then, and some of the higher years got riled up a second year had bumped into them, but he paid no attention.

Mycroft. Thinks he can just summon me, like I'm his darling little pet, Sherlock thinks. This is so ridiculous. Yet...

Sherlock goes anyway, though grudgingly. Mycroft has some very important, mysterious facts about the school. How was Sherlock to resist? Though he pretended to be bored with the scenario, and was only looking into it because really there was nothing better to do, Sherlock was very excited. There had been many fantasical things about Hogwarts, and he had some new friends now that (though surprisingly) put up with him, but there was nothing like a good, old-fashioned mystery to get Sherlock excited.

Sherlock finally came to the potions room, It was almost always empty after school got out and they were free to roam the grounds. The teacher had a particular fondness for Mycroft, and had given him the password to enter when he wasn't there. Mycroft was basically the teachers "assistant". Sherlock knocked three times on the heavy wooden door, and Mycroft opened the door just enough for him to slip through.

"So what's this all about, Mycroft. You better not be pulling my leg and wasting my time."

"Oh this will not be wasting your time at all, brother. I have heard some scandalous things circulating around the Slytherin house. I would look into it myself if I didn't have better things to do."

"So what is this scandalous gossip then? More smut about me and Molly? Or me and Irene? Oh no! I got it! It's about me and John isn't it? will you people give it a rest? I can't go anywhere with them without smug looks from everyone."

Mycroft just smiled. "Go ahead and get riled up about your elementary crushes, dear brother, but if you want to get some real excitement I would suggest you shut up and listen."

Sherlock opened his mouth to sass him more, but he supposed Mycroft wouldn't go to this trouble if he had nothing worth saying. He closed his mouth and waited.

Mycroft's grin became wider. He knew he had him now, "Well, what I've heard floating about is that one of the slytherin's is talking to the walls"

"Why should that concern me?" Sherlock asked, but already the wheels were turning in his mind.

Mycroft continued as if there were no interruption, "Its very strange. Some say hes lost his marbles. "

Sherlock put his hands together under his chin. Then he sighed.

"Really Mycroft, I thought you would have more than this. I am very disappointed. I might look into it, but don't count on it too soon." Sherlock started towards the door.

"Oh, but I wasn't finished yet. You know Tom Riddle, do you not?"

Sherlock froze in his tracks. His muscles got tense.

"Yes." He all but spat.

"Though Tom Riddle is stubborn and insufferable, he is not mad. Well, not the kind of mad that would invite insanity at least. You should know this."

Sherlock took a deep breath before speaking. "Yes, I do know that much. I will... consider it." And with that Mycroft let him go.

What is that insufferable bastard up to now? Sherlock thought as he stormed back up to the gryffindor tower. Talking to walls. Maybe he is mad. But even as Sherlock though of it, he knew it was not the case.

I swear, if somehow he hurts Molly in this, he will have to answer to me. Sherlock was only one of the few people outside of Tom's inner circle to know his ambitions to wipe out the mudbloods from the school. He didn't even try to tell the other teachers of this, Tom was the Golden Child at Hogwarts, they wouldn't touch him.

Tom had tried to push Molly around on more than one occasion. Mostly small things, like giving her the wrong claws for a potion, or giving her a FrogThroat curse, but nothing... sinister. He did that to other mudbloods too. But Sherlock knew he wa more than capable of it. In fact, he thought it inevitable a mudblood would be hurt eventually.

Suddenly, he noticed all the children running towards the Main Hall. Sherlock decided he might as well go too, in this chaos on the stairs it would be impossible for him to get to the ravenclaw common room.

He heard whispers here and there, ...dead? ...likestone! ...blood. This alarmed him already, but then he heard her name:

Molly.

Sherlock raced down the stairs, pushing everyone else out of the way. He asked around a bit, wondering where exactly she was, and finally...

He saw Molly, beautiful, sweet Molly, lying on the floor, stiff as stone. She had a contorted look on her face, and Sherlock shuddered to think what may have caused her to look like that.

"NO!" He ran to her side, and looked up helplessly at one of the teachers, "Professor! Someone, is she dead? Please tell me she isn't dead, Please!"

An old withered hand gently pulled him off of Molly "Fortunately," The voice said, his voice thin as paper, "She is only petrified. We should get her back to normal, but it will be some time."

Sherlock looked at Professor Dumbledore, "Really? What did this? Who?" But Sherlock knew who. Professor Dumbledore just gave him a pat and a sympathetic expression.

All of a sudden, Sherlocks face went from hot and afraid, to cold and deadly.

Tom better hope that he would never, ever find him. Because if they met again...

He would have hell to pay.