sortinghat_rp | 06 [evening of March 30th]

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06 [evening of March 30th]

Thank God the egg hunt thing is over with. Don't get me wrong. It looked like everyone who was participating was having a lot of fun... when they managed to stay the right shape, size, and species... but I just couldn't get anywhere near those things. After everything that happened with the snakes last month, I think I might still have some latent egg-related trauma. If someone told me I turn beet red or get the thousand-yard stare when big plates of boiled eggs are served at mealtimes, I probably wouldn't be surprised.

It all worked out for the best in the end, though. Avoiding the hunt gave me lots of time to study and practice Apparition. With any luck, I won't be splinching myself when the Trace gets lifted from me tomorrow. Easter just had to fall on my birthday this year, didn't it?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Don't knock my PTED. It's a very serious condition and not inherently ridiculous at all.

And don't you sound urgent. Give me about five minutes. Oh, and just so I'll be aware, how much trouble could whatever you've got planned get us in? On a scale of 1 to expelled with extreme prejudice.

About an 8 with an emphasis on letting me take the wrap. No arguments.

I'll see you in five minutes.

[True to his word, John arrived at the boy's bathroom at almost exactly the five minute mark. He had dressed in a pair of jeans and a warm dark brown long-sleeved shirt. Outside of some truly ludicrous Christmas jumpers, his clothing much more heavily favored the plain and practical over anything ostentatious. And when he'd dressed to meet Sherlock here, he'd been thankful for that. No need to get noticed for wearing something flashy when some rule-breaking was on the agenda for the evening.]

[Sherlock was waiting in a suit--though in fairness, school clothes were rather dressing down from his normal attire. Nothing fancier than a purple button down, black trousers and a jacket.

He beamed at John's arrival.]

Ready, are we? Good. Follow me and leave all magic using to me as well, understand?

[John felt a little under-dressed when he saw what Sherlock was wearing. Oh well. His outfit was clean, fit well, and wouldn't raise suspicion, and that was all that he really needed.]

Yeah, I'm ready. And don't worry about that; I'm not about to risk getting caught by the Trace just a few hours before it gets lifted. It'd be like in the movies, when a cop gets shot the day before retirement.

Fitting analogy I guess.

[Sherlock checked that the coast was clear and took off into the courtyard towards the Whomping Willow. He enchanted it to freeze and allow himself to leap onto the hole that was the secret passage Tony had shown him. He waited for John to follow, no explanation given or probably needed, waiting with his wand tip lit to light their way down the dirt corridor.]

Still good?

[John nodded, his brows furrowed slightly as he tried to piece together where Sherlock was taking him. Then his eyes widened a little, and it was impossible to mask the hint of curiosity and eagerness in his voice.]

This is what you mentioned a while back, isn't it? The trick to getting into the Shrieking Shack.

[Sherlock's smile grew.]

Well done. The entrance is certainly well hidden, wouldn't you agree? The Whomping Willow is the only defense, though. It's nothing but smooth sailing from here on out. We'll be within the Shrieking Shack in a matter of minutes.

[He tugged John's sleeve to follow and headed down the passage by the light of his wand. This reminded him of his own birthday, John and himself walking down the old passageways linking the house proper to the more improper dwellings. He rather liked the birthday symmetry.]

[John trotted to keep up. Sherlock's legs might be considerably longer than his own, but he knew how to keep pace. He had to admit, this was pretty thrilling. He didn't think he'd have an adventure for a birthday present, but it was definitely one of the best things to receive.]

This is brilliant. I never would have guessed in a million years that the shack was connected to the castle. I wonder if there's a reason for it.

Must have been but it's probably forgotten by all but the Founders. As a place to observe, as an escape route, there are many things it could have been back in the day. The fact that it remains could be an homage to tradition or perhaps its still used for its intended purpose now. Unrelated note but are you allergic to dogs?

Er... no? I rather like them, actually. But what does that have to do with anything?

Nothing. Just noticed the shack was rather..doggy.. last I was there. All kinds of animals probably take refuge in the shack from time to time. Just making sure. I did check and it should be unoccupied.

[He lead the way to the building, holding the door open for John as they finally reached the shack.]

[John nodded his thanks to Sherlock as he entered the building. It was certainly creepy in the way that old, dilapidated shacks tended to be, but somehow it seemed much more haunted from the outside. Still, he craned his way this way and that, looking at what the shack had to offer.]

I suppose you're right. Hell, maybe they're somehow the ones that make all the noise this place is famous for. I mean, it doesn't really feel haunted. Like when there are ghosts around back at the castle; you can usually feel them in the atmosphere.

I still don't see how they'd get in here, but if I was a dog dead set on getting out of the Scotland damp, I'd probably make figuring that out priority one.

Well, there's always the front door.

[Sherlock went to the boarded up windows, peeking out at the town outside.]

It is nearly Easter but I don't think they'll be expecting runaway students and more than normal.

Yeah, because dogs are so well known for their ability to work doorknobs.

[John moved over and joined him, peering down at Hogsmeade.]

You really think we can sneak in and get away with it?

These people don't work for the school, they work for themselves. I am a paying customer willing to tip handsomely for their cooperation and silence. You think they care more about our age than they do the galleons in my pocket?

[Sherlock smirks at John. Because he is right and this is going to be fantastic.]

You might not be hungry but a few butterbeers and a plate of pastries to celebrate shouldn't sour your stomach, I should think.

[John drummed his fingers on the windowsill. That plus the general fidgeting he was doing implied that he was having an uphill battle with the notion that he really ought to be discouraging the rule-breaking behavior and the fact that every other cell in him was very loudly scoffing and saying, 'Sod that.'

Finally he licked his lips, which he was having a very hard time keeping from breaking out into a full grin.]

It would be pretty damn rude to completely shut down someone's attempt to provide a very good and memorable almost-birthday experience, wouldn't it?

You wouldn't have let me take you this far if you ever really planned to.

[Sherlock dusted off the last of the dirt from his suit then, seeing that the coast was clear, opened the front door and walked upright rather than snuck towards the gate. Always best to act as though one has every right to be where they are no matter the circumstances.]

[John followed, trying to match Sherlock's scheme of looking casual. He was still a bit awkward and stiff about it; definitely a sign that he was overthinking the odds of anyone thinking they were out of place.]

True. I would've at least shouted you down in the journal system or - if things got REALLY out of hand - tried to catch you in a headlock and actually drag you back to the castle if I was really opposed.

You couldn't get me in a headlock.

[Sherlock rolled his eyes at the very thought, jumping the gate at the bottom rather than opening it.]

I said try.

[Unlike certain people with their stupid long legs, John had to climb over the gate instead of just jumping, but at least he managed.]

But I bet I could if I wanted to enough.

Then I suppose we'll just have to wait and see next year when I suggest the Forbidden Forest. Last chance, after all.

[Sherlock waited for him to climb is with a smirk, his point more or less made in the differences of their heights he suspected. He lead the way again towards the Three Broomsticks Inn.]

The Forbidden Forest?!

[That came out a bit louder than he liked, so he lowered his voice to a hush for the ensuing reprimand.]

Look, Sherlock, I have less of a problem with what we're doing now because at least it's not potentially fatal. Can't say I can say the same about the forest.

Don't tell me you don't want to see what's inside there. Certainly promised danger and excitement. Death is only a possibility.

Whether or not I want to see what's in there doesn't really hold a candle to the fact that what I really don't want to see is my guts strewn out in the middle of a goddamned forest. The same goes for your guts.

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