capeandcowllogs | (no subject)

[When Tom dreams, they usually take place at, surprise, Hogwarts. Tonight's dream is one of the few that takes place outside. The Hogwarts grounds are there in perfect detail as Tom knew it in 1943. Certain places are a little dimmer than others, such as the Quidditch pitch, since it has very little importance to him, but overall the world is bright and has a distinctly magical feel to it, the castle in particular being the most prominent feature of the world.

Tom is currently leaning back against a tree, with a book in one hand and his wand in the other--his wand and not Harry's--practising spells, although his movements are already precise and he's hardly glancing at the book. On the ground next to him is a pile of parchment and a couple more books. None of the books have visible titles, and none of his notes are legible, a stark contrast to the detail put into the rest of the world.

There is no sign of him being Voldemort anywhere in this dream; he keeps those thoughts and memories tightly locked away even while asleep. But a keen observer might notice something else: there is absolutely no one else around. The only sounds aside from Tom's spells are from the wind through the trees and various animals in the forest nearby. He's completely alone here, as he always is in his dreams.]

[ -- and steps into a very strange place.

He knows almost instantly that this is wrong. His eyes are drawn to the castle and the trees and the - what are those giant hoops in the air?

The details aren't jumping here - not that he would notice - but he's still analyzing every part of it, even if it doesn't make sense.

He's obviously still dreaming but he's never had a dream like this before and --

He stops when his eyes fall on the boy under the tree. The only living thing for miles around and he knows him, he only just met him, but he can't quite put his finger on it because that dream was already fading...

He steps cautiously towards him, hands in his pockets. The gun was there too.]

[Tom flicks his wand to cast the spell again, flicks it again slightly differently, flicks it again to have his quill write down something, looks up, and...

There shouldn't be anyone here. He knows there shouldn't be anyone else here. And this man certainly shouldn't be here, though he couldn't immediately say why--other than the Muggle clothes, those were reason enough, really.

There's a moment of harsh scrutiny, and the world itself seems to dim a little, as if a cloud passed in front of the sun--

And then he seems as calm and cautiously polite as ever.] Good afternoon.

[Sherlock's eyes light up a bit at the overt display of magic. Suddenly the setting makes more sense. Dimly, something in his mind reminds him that magic does exist and that he's seen it but he can't quite remember how or when or why.

This is not his dream. This dream belongs to this boy and somehow Sherlock ended up here.

And oh, Tom, he noticed that look.]

Afternoon. [His eyes dart to the wand again.]

Studying?

Edited 2011-11-05 18:03 (UTC)

[Hey, it could just be a very Slytherin look; he's the best there is, you know. And Sherlock is a Muggle.

Yeah, that's probably not it.

The book in his hand gains a title as soon as the question is asked and his attention is drawn back to it somewhat: Olde and Forgotten Bewitchments and Charmes.]

Research. [He closes the book without bothering to check the page number; his eyes are still locked on Sherlock.] For a class.

Are you here to see the Headmaster?

Yes. [It was an easy lie, and there was no hesitation at all. He offered a disarming smile.

Headmaster, hm? So a school, then, and a magical one, and the boy was obviously a student. His accent placed him in the British Isles, and the flora would suggest somewhere in northern England... maybe Scotland?]

I'm afraid I've gotten a little lost, however. Perhaps you could take me to his office?

[There is something about that that doesn't ring quite true with Tom. He isn't quite sure why--the memories of the other dream aren't available to him out here--but there is something off.

Still, Tom smiles back and quickly gathers his things.]

Of course. It's a bit of a walk, but I know a couple short-cuts. If you'll follow me, Mr...?

Holmes. Sherlock Holmes.

[He knew better than to lie, about that. Even if a dim memory almost reminded him that people tend to recognize the name. But a pseudonym would ring hollow, and in a situation where almost everything he was about to say was like to be a lie, He wanted to make sure something he said rang with an air of authority.

He smiled and waited patiently until the boy had packed everything.]

[Sherlock Holmes. Yes, it was him, wasn't it? However that was possible. It rang true enough, had enough passing familiarity.

Which meant he had no business being here.

The books and papers are shrunk and stuck into a pocket of his robes and the quill and pot of ink are Vanished, sent back to his room.] Mr. Holmes. It's good to meet you.

[The trip across the ground to front door takes about three steps--it is a dream, after all--and the door is already wide open and welcoming.

The entrance hall is large and well lit for a castle, though most of the light seems to be coming from somewhere other than the torches. Across the hall is a large marble staircase up to the next floor, which is where Tom will be headed, and two staircases leading down, one on either side. The staircase on the right is dim and less detailed--it's unimportant. The staircase on the left is sharply detailed but seems to get steadily darker.

On the right side of the hall is a set of tall double doors, closed for now but inviting. On the left is smaller door that leads to the ground floor classrooms.

As soon as they enter the school, a very faint voice can be heard, although the words are unintelligible at the moment. It's still the only voice; the school is as quiet as the grounds.]

[He didn't ask for the boy's name.

He was happy to follow and simply observe for now. The architecture was in many ways very familiar - Sherlock memorized much of the architecture styles in Britain (how else would he be able to find all the hidden passageways), and everything in the castle reminded him of pieces of it, but somehow... different. Perhaps it was the magic.

He notes the staircases and he notes the detail and he wonders vaguely if this is more memory, than dream, and if the detail denotes the places Tom is more familiar with.

His ears prick at the voice - everything had seemed so empty, before, but no matter how hard he tries he simply can't hear the words. He pretends he didn't hear it at all, and looks around in exaggerated wonder.]

My, but it is just as impressive as I'd heard.

[Tom doesn't seem to notice it either, though he does of course, and he knows exactly what it belongs to. The voice and Sherlock's praise of the castle bring a faint smile to his lips as he heads up the stairs.]

The Founders had a flair for the dramatic. You'll have to stick close to me; the staircases like to move around.

Edited 2011-11-07 22:45 (UTC)

[Sherlock's eyes dart to the stairs. Even the building can move? But he follows Tom's advice and sticks close.]

You seem proud. [Of Hogwarts, the tone implies.]

It's my home. [And it certainly sounds like it's the truth, as far as he's concerned.] And the school does garner a certain amount of loyalty after a time.

[But the first floor seems darker than the last. It's probably because the sun is setting outside. Probably.

And as they ascend the stairs, the voice gradually gets louder and closer, until bits and pieces are able to be understood.]

...rip...tear...kill...to me...

[He hears the voice as they step upstairs, his eyes narrowing as the darkness seems to grow.

A nightmare? No. The boy isn't showing an ounce of fear.

So no danger for him, then. But danger for Sherlock...?

Just a dream. There was never anything to be frightened of, in dreams.

He let his fingers touch the cold metal of the gun in his pocket.]

Yes, I can imagine. It's a bit far removed from my daily drudgery, I assure you.

[Well, it is his own personal Scotland Yard. His mind doesn't really appreciate visitors either. And with every step, they're getting closer to it; the entrance to the Chamber is only a floor above this.]

It's mine as well, during the holidays. [Yeah, his tone and the room just got considerably colder. He's not fond of the place. In the slightest. Thank Merlin he would never have to return there.] I grew up in London. It's a far cry from Hogwarts at the best of times.

[Hogwarts. He had a name to go with the place, now. Of course, it rang no bells. He didn't expect it to. London, though... so this magical universe also had one. Interesting.

He doesn't let any of his growing caution or concern flicker across his features - his stride still easy and confident.]

I can't say I find many resemblances to London, No.

There are places like it, in London. Though I don't think you'd be able to see them. [Statute of Secrecy? what Statute of Secrecy? granted, Sherlock shouldn't haven't been able to see this place for what it was by those rules, so maybe he'd be able to see the Leaky Cauldron too.]

What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?

[Tom's eyes narrow for briefest second before he stops and turns around. Standing at the top of the grand marble staircase behind them is Albus Dumbledore, but one that wavers between being Tom's Transfiguration professor and Harry's old and wise Headmaster.]

Escorting a guest to see the Headmaster, sir.

Really? [Implies magical segregation, if even in the world of Hogwarts Sherlock wouldn't be able to 'see' them. ... Fascinating.

[He turned as a figure appeared and spoke - Tom, hmm? - but he couldn't quite get a grip on the man. His figure kept shifting - aging and de-aging.

He didn't say anything, however, just looking curiously up at him.]

[Dumbledore looks over at Sherlock, not obviously suspicious, but frowning a bit just the same. It's a look Tom's quite familiar with, and in another moment, Dumbledore's form has settled on the younger version.]

I wasn't aware he was expecting a guest...

[And he'll be walking over now. Tom doesn't look terribly thrilled about this; much as Sherlock Holmes should not be in the magical world at all, he doesn't need Dumbledore getting involved.]

But you wouldn't want to make his guest late, Professor, would you?

[Oh, Sherlock is completely watching Tom's reaction to the man - who has seemed to finally settle on one form. None of the clothes make sense, though - Sherlock can almost always instantly tell brand and make. Then again, not much of this 'world' has made any sense at all.

He flashes the Professor a practiced smile.]

I assure you, it won't be long.

[Well, watch long enough, and it should be clear neither of them likes the other much, or Tom doesn't like him and assumes the feeling is mutual, but they're dancing politely around ever admitting it or making it too obvious.

But Dumbledore is also part of the security system, so he's not believing that so easily.]

Perhaps I should accompany you. You know it's dangerous to be out late these days, Tom.

That really isn't necessary, Professor. [Glancing at Sherlock.] We really should keep going, if the Headmaster's expecting you.

[Sherlock isn't used to dream-hopping, and despite his own security coming to his rescue earlier, doesn't recognize the signs.

He does recognize distrust, however.

He looks at Tom.]

Whatever you think is best, of course.

[Tom looks very slightly surprised by that, that Sherlock would defer to him over a teacher, but hey, he'll take it.]

Thank you for the offer, sir, but I think I have everything under control.

[Dumbledore looks over both of them, lingering over both for about the same amount of time, but he finally nods with a light sigh.]

Do go quickly, then.

Yes, Professor. [He glances at Sherlock once more before turning back around and heading off again, trusting that the man will follow. And even if he doesn't, Dumbledore is still lingering around, waiting to follow them at a distance.]

Edited 2011-11-10 08:32 (UTC)

[Sherlock notes the boy's surprise, but doesn't comment. Sherlock never has had that automatic respect for authority figures that people expect. In fact, quite the opposite.

And especially not here, speaking to dreams.

There is no hesitation to turn and follow the young man, his coat billowing in it's characteristic way as he follows.]

[Hey, he is totally fine with that. He will never turn down a chance to have one over on Dumbledore.

It isn't too long before Tom seems relaxed again--mostly. He's aware of Dumbledore back there and of a growing uneasiness about this entire situation...and the basilisk roaming the floor above. Can't forget that.

It doesn't take long to reach the next set of stairs, either through the magic of dreams or Tom's detailed knowledge of the castle. This set of stairs is indeed moving, because well, dream, but it settles as soon as Tom reaches the bottom.]

It shouldn't move while we're on it, but they are a bit unpredictable. There's a trick step second from the top. [and heading up.]

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open // possible violence eventually

after arthur. WHY HELLO.

:3 welcome to Hogwarts, Mr Holmes.

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.. because apparently sherlock is james bond.

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