A/N: Hey peoples! For those of you who know me from one of my other stories: WELCOME BACK! For those of you who have never heard of me and just clicked on my story because it sounded interesting, good for you! I hope you enjoy it. Those returning readers: this may be the last update I do for a while. Life I getting really hectic right now and I have to focus on things that I wish didn't matter(but they do). I might manage to update a few times, but do not expect regular updating! I like to think I have a life besides school and FanFiction(which I really don't) so please bear with me. Please review and tell me if there is anything I need to fix! Or just review cause you loved it (cause I'm sure you will). Now enough of my ranting, let's get on to the story!

Note: if you're confused by the italics, they are thoughts.

another note: I haven't read Harry potter in a while so please excuse and correct me if I'm wrong about somethings. I have seen the movies much more recently and it's kind of hard to distinguish from them I my mind.

Chapter 1

John stared out the window of his cab, watching all the people and signs whiz by. Why can't I have a normal life like other people? John thought. I could have one if it weren't for Sherlock's bloody ego.

John chuckled to himself, and the cabbie looked at him strangely. "Sorry, where to?"

John cleared his throat. "Scotland Yard." Lestrade had called him about 5 minutes ago, telling to come down ASAP, and under no circumstances was he to bring Sherlock. He had sounded really stressed and drawn thin, so John had, of course, stopped everything he had been doing, which wasn't much, and grabbed a passing taxi on his way out of 221B Baker Street. Of course, Sherlock hadn't even noticed him leave, completely focused on some crazy experiment involving a tongue and a lighter.

John was glad to have a reason to get out of there. He's going to stink up the whole flat. John sighed.

This is my life now.

The taxi pulled up to New Scotland Yard a few minutes later, and John hastily paid the cabbie and climbed out, slamming the door behind him. The taxi drove off.

As John walked up to the glass doors, he failed to notice the strangely dressed people watching him from around the corner.

"Is that him?" The huge man asked, nervously running a large finger through his scraggly beard.

"I do believe so." An older woman replied. "The detective just called the chap a few minutes ago and that fellow seems to be in a hurry. Plus, he looks like the kind of man you might call for something like this. He does look rather...maternal. Let's see what happens in the office."

The man nodded. "Alright, Minerva."

John, oblivious to the conversation about him, opened the doors and walked in. 'I wonder what could be so urgent that has Lestrade all anxious.'

The office was full of chatter, and as soon as John entered, people he had never seen before but obviously worked for the Yard came up to him and began to congratulate him.

"You're so lucky, John."

"I wish I were you."

"Why didn't he pick me? I have two other ones!"

"What? What did I do?" John asked in confusion, not understanding a word that had been said. What does I've got two other ones mean? Two other what?

They all looked at him and shook their heads. "You'll find out soon enough."

And Anderson wasn't helping even the slightest bit. As soon as the crowd ( if you could call it that ) of people saw Anderson coming round the bend, they all moved out of his way and went back to their normal business. Anderson had the biggest smirk on his face, maybe, the biggest one John had ever seen.

"Oh, you're going to love this." Anderson's sneered sarcastically, his voice like a huge mosquito right in his ear.

"What's going on?" John asked, but he doubted he'd get a straight answer.

Anderson sniggered. "You'll see."

Someday, I'm going to kick him in the balls. John vowed.

As they walked up to Lestrade's office, John noticed that all the blinds were pulled shut. 'What the hell is going on?' Anderson knocked twice on the door, and Lestrade quickly opened it.

"Oh, thank God." Lestrade said, pulling him into the room and promptly slamming the door in Anderson's face.

"What in blazes is going on?" John asked, but before he could utter another syllable, Lestrade stripped his shoulders.

"I think I'm going mad."

John furrowed his brow and looked at Lestrade's bloodshot eyes and weary face. Signs of increased hysteria and lack of sleep. "Ok, Greg, have you had coffee this morning?"

"Not yet." Lestrade admitted.

"Good, we can't have you going caffeine crazy. ANDERSON!" He shouted the last bit, hoping for a response from outside. There wasn't.

Lestrade had let go of John's shoulders now. "ANDERSON!"

The door opened a wedge and Anderson stuck his head in. "Yes?"

"He needs tea. Just plain herbal tea. No cream, no sugar, no caffeine." John said.

Anderson looked at Lestrade, who gave him a pointed look, and with a roll off his eyes, he closed the door.

John turned to Lestrade. "Now care to tell me what's going on?"

Lestrade gestured to the chair opposite his. "Sit."

It was an one-word command, one that John was happy to comply with.

John sat down in the chair and watched Lestrade in curiosity as the head detective sat down. The man's desk was covered with all kinds of clutter: open files with pages spilling out, pictures strewn everywhere and drawings and notes drawn in dry erase. He saw a large black object under Lestrade's desk, and his curiosity peaked. "What's under your desk?"

Lestrade sighed and reached down to grab it. "That's why I asked you here."

He lifted the object up off the floor, revealing...

a baby carrier.

With a full on baby in it.

John immediately shot to his feet. "No , Lestrade, no! Absolutely not!"

"I haven't even told you-" Lestrade exclaimed, but John cut him off.

"I know what you're going to say and the answer is no!" John protested, just as Anderson came in with a steaming cup and saucer.

John took a deep breath and grabbed the tea from Anderson, nodding and muttering a quiet thanks. Anderson's as smart enough to get his little arse out of there as fast as his little legs would carry him, slamming the door behind him.

John walked over to Lestrade and handed the tea to him, muttering an apology under his breath.

Lestrade cleared his throat. "Thanks."

John sat down and started over. "What do you want me to do with a child?" Then his eyes widened. "He isn't yours...is he?"

"Gods above, no!" Lestrade exclaimed, taking a sip of the searing hot tea and placing it back in its saucer. "John, I want YOU to take care of the baby."

John was stunned. "Why?" Was all he could get out.

"Because I'm desperate." Lestrade said, setting the tea on his desk and leaning forward. "I haven't gotten a wink of sleep in the last 24 hours, and I need to be at my best. I'm working on a really strenuous case right now, and I need someone trustworthy to take care of 'im while I'm working. As soon as I finish this case, I'll find a proper home for him."

"Keep in mind, I do live with Sherlock." John pointed out.

Lestrade chuckled. "Yes, I remember."

John cleared his throat. "Why not any of your other officers?"

"You're joking, right? Anderson, with a baby? His wife would climb up the walls!" Lestrade smiled sadly. "You're the one I trust most."

John sighed. What am I getting myself into? "What's his name?"

Lestrade opened his desk drawer and handed John a slim Manila folder. "Name's Harold Potter, or Harry for short. Son of James and Lily Potter. We found them both dead in their house last night."

"What, and the killer left this poor bugger alone? Why the hell would he do that?"

Lestrade cringed. "He didn't exactly leave him alone."

John peered at the baby with a new curiosity. He had sparkling green eyes and mop of black hair. John gently pushed the hair out of the boys eyes and blinked when he saw the scar.

It was a jagged line of red, relatively fresh and puffy. "Is that a lightning bolt?"

"Yup." Lestrade sighed. "And I have no bloody idea what happened to the parents. No mortal wounds on either of them, just a couple bruises. I already had Ms. Hooper check for internal injuries or any other sign that could tell us what happened; there was none. Both of them were completely healthy. It's a mystery."

"Why are you telling me this?" John asked, going over all the facts in his head. He kept on coming back to the same thing. No indications that the couple are actually dead, but they are.

"Because I trust-"

"No, I mean why not Sherlock?" John interrupted. "We all know he's Mr. Crimey-Wimey detector, so why so secretive?"

Lestrade sighed and scratched his head. It looked like he was contemplating whether to tell John something or not. With a nod, he stood up and opened a large filing cabinet. He pulled out a large evidence bag with what looked to be two large sticks inside. He set it down on his desk and slumped back in his chair again.

"What is this?" John asked, picking up the bag and peering at the strange sticks inside. One was quite long and thin, with some sort if handle carved into the wood. The same for the other one; not quite as long but just as thin. Both had delicate cracks running halfway down the wood. John could see tiny hairs poking out oft he fissures. What the heck? They must have been involved in some crazy business.

"This belonged to James and Lily Potter." Lestrade said, steepling his fingers as Sherlock did occasionally. "We found them in their hands when we arrived at the scene."

"They look like some sort of...wands."

Lestrade grunted, leaning back in his chair. "Donovan thinks they were part of some sort of crazy cult. Anderson thinks they were extremely high or drunk. We didn't find anything you could call recreational in their systems, and only a bit of alcohol, probably from dinner."

John frowned. "Can I...?"

"Knock yourself out." Lestrade said, holding his hands behind his head in curiosity.

John opened the bag, gently slipping the larger stick out. Wand. Whatever it was. It felt light and easy to handle. He fingered the handle, holding it the way he thought a magic fanatic might to cast a 'magic spell.' He waved it around, laughing inwardly at how stupid he must look to Lestrade. Suddenly, the painting that hung on the wall flew off its nail, crashing into the side of the desk and falling into the garbage bin.

John looked at Lestrade in surprise, gingerly placing the stick bag. "Let's put that away for now."

Harry giggled in delight, clapping his hands and smiling widely, showing two pearly white teeth.

Lestrade snapped his fingers. "I knew I was forgetting!" He began to search through the pile of photographs on his desk, finding the ones he wanted and handing them to John. "Those were taken with a pedestrian's mobile the night the Potters died. Said she heard some strange noises coming from the house and wanted to check to see if everything was alright. At least that's what she says..."

"Who is she?" John asked as he took the pictures, waiting for an answer before he looked at them.

"Bellatrix Lestrange." Lestrade said doubtfully.

John laughed and looked at the pictures. He was looking at a small-ish house with shuttered windows. It looked quite nice, except for the sickly green light shining through the windows. He flipped the next one; a picture of the swirling dark mass breaking through the upstairs window and flying off into the night. If you looked at it from just the right angle, you could start to see a face. He looked up at Lestrade and understood why he was so tentative to tell Sherlock. He had this wild look inside and John said, "you're not actually thinking-"

"-John," Lestrade interrupted leaning forward and bringing his voice down to a whisper. "what if magic is real?"

And that is all for now! Please let me know if I've made any grammar mistakes or just stupid mistakes So I can improve it. Thanks!

P.S.: mistake about bellatrix's name was fixed.

P.P.S. : I will probably be updating this weekend so do'nt get all jittery :) thank you to everyone who has reviewed and favorited/followed! you give me purpose in life and the motivation to actually write more.