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?

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I don't know. On reflection, becoming a bright red big weasle was pretty fun.

No time to bother about post traumatic egg disorders. Get dressed. Not school clothes. Meet me in the boy's bathroom near the courtyard.

A big red weasel, huh? I would've thought you'd end up as something a bit noisier.

Did you at least manage to get back to your clothes before you changed back?

When I got back to them. Yeah. But then, it was only Herbert and Thor who saw me.

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.

... yeah, you're going to need to be a bit more clear there. Were they the only ones who saw you as a little weasel, or the only ones who saw your little weasel?

Depends on how jealous of them you'd be?

[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.]

If jealousy over not seeing your very-recently-weaselly bits operated on a 1-10 scale, Tony, I would fall at a -5.

You're not my type.

[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?

Well, I guess we can't all be an Easter Island violinist.

But all I see is a 5 nonetheless.

Also, I'm everyone's type.

[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.

He doesn't look like an Easter Island head! And it's still not like that.

Sorry, you're just going to have to deal with the fact that you're not a universal sex appeal donor. That negative mark is staying there, even if you've got selective blindness against it.

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.

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