Work Text:
Greg was fuming. It had been a terrible week for him so far since the beginning, but today was the worst day. With a permission slip from Professor Hudson, he left the school to buy new Quidditch gloves for his practice since his pair mysteriously disappeared a couple of days before. He ran through the gates as an annoyed Mrs Turner supervised his exit while he made his way to Hogsmeade. What he didn't expect to see as he exited the new branch of Quality Quidditch Supplies was Mycroft Holmes and Elizabeth Smallwood casually drinking tea and eating scones through the window of Madam Puddifoot's tea shop. And Mycroft was laughing, looking amused at something Greg's new archnemesis was telling him while she batted her long eyelashes at him and held his hand. Held. Mycroft's. Hand. He walked out of the view from the window, cursing his luck. How were they even allowed to be there in the first place? The next Hogsmeade date, when Mycroft accepted to go with him to have a drink was not until the following weekend. Apparently, the Head Girl didn't have such limitations and could take Mycroft outside the school whenever she felt like it. So Greg was in a bad mood when he approached the school gates, the ordinarily cheery Hufflepuff stomped through the pathway, leaving an unimpressed caretaker behind. There was a crowd of students gathered near the entrance door, whispers and not subtle expletives thrown. It was times like this when Greg regretted not choosing the Prefect badge when they offered it on his fifth-year letter because right now he wanted the authority to tell everyone to fuck off and give him space to move. Anderson was there, Dimmock and even Sally.
"Woa, Sal, can't you tell people to move along? They are blocking the entrance."
"Lestrade. How can you be so insensitive? Most people are really upset by the news!" Looking at Greg's perplexed features, Sally sighed, pushing her unruly curly hair out of her face. She looked sad, and Greg's curiosity took priority over his annoyance.
"What's up Sal?"
"You seriously have no idea? This was up early in the morning. There is another one inside on the Great Hall." This, it turned out, referred to a big sign placed just sideways of the entrance door.
THE HOGWARTS INTER-HOUSE QUIDDITCH TOURNAMENT IS CANCELLED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. Please refer all inquiries to the Head Boy or Head Girl or wait for further information at lunch.
Greg cursed out loud, his eyes re-reading the sign over and over again, he couldn't believe his eyes. It had to be a joke, a terrible joke, and he hoped the Prefects caught whoever did this and made them mend their evil ways — no one messed with Quidditch. No one. One look at Sally's face made Greg reassess his idea of a prank. She was devastated, and Greg was starting to move fast into the stages of grief. He was furious. With Mycroft. How could he know they were going to cancel Quidditch and didn't even give him a heads up? They were supposedly friendly with each other, well, more than friendly if he got his way on the not-sure-if-it's-going-to-happen-now-you-Quidditch-cancelling-bastard date he had planned for this Saturday. Quidditch. Hogwarts without Quidditch. Greg Lestrade in Hogwarts without Quidditch. Maybe there was something he could do for Mycroft to make him change this? Like, he could babysit Sherlock's little gang for the rest of the year, officially that is. He was doing that anyway; he might as well get something out of it. Bastard. Mycroft was a bastard. Surely he knew how much Quidditch meant to Greg? Everyone else seemed to think he was Quidditch obsessed. He remembered his conversation with his beaters just a few days before. They were even doing their remedial potions lessons with the little menace! Sherlock was a harsh taskmaster, and he seemed pleased to be able to boss around a couple of bigger students.
No Quidditch. No Quidditch for the rest of the year. They only had one match, and it was a draw. Harriet Watson had beaten Molly to the Snitch by a nose and an arm, which was funny since they were almost the same height, even though Harriet was in her third year. All the points Greg and Hopkins scored were moot if they missed the Snitch in the end. Molly was in tears by the end of the match and even offered to resign as Seeker. Greg took her to the side and tried to infuse some confidence in her, and refused to accept her resignation. He was sure they were going to win the cup if they managed to win against Ravenclaw, but I guess he was never going to know? Bastardy Mycroft, going around taking tea with bastardy women and cancelling his Quidditch. Now, maybe he could go back to Hogsmeade and strangle them both. He could plead temporary insanity to the Wizengamot on his trial.
Mycroft hiding in Hogsmeade with Elizabeth made sense in retrospect because everyone else including Greg Lestrade looked murderous right now. Greg hoped there was a reasonable explanation for the whole thing because murder and mayhem were still high on his list of possible outcomes of this whole charade. No Quidditch for the entire year? Fucking hell, that was.
"We can bet on it, Mycroft, darling. I put five sickles to us being subject to at least four different hexes when we get back to school grounds."
Mycroft dabbed at his mouth his napkin, his proper manners impeding his laughter at his companion's usual antics while his there was still scone in his mouth. But my, Madam's pastries were delicious. He usually avoided the place like the plague, but when Elizabeth had chosen the place as their hiding spot before lunch, he knew it was going to be a losing argument. No other Hogwarts students were around, he knew, but the Three Broomsticks was still packed, after all, Hogsmeade was still a village, and villagers needed to eat and drink. It was not warm enough for the outside seating spots, something Mycroft mentally thanked Salazar for, so they stepped into the little shop and asked for tea and scones for their table. Lunch was still a couple of hours away, but Mycroft had skipped breakfast in the haste of finding Elizabeth and leaving before the students arrived into the Great Hall or outside. They would miss their morning lessons, but Headmaster Stamford had wisely told them to 'Scram' before the morning crowd arrived. Elizabeth grabbed Mycroft by the arm before he even had a chance to sip his morning tea, so he was cranky and moody when they walked the distance from the school to the village.
"Be as it may, my dear Elizabeth, remember Headmaster Stamford is side-along apparating us to the side entrance of the Hall, where the teachers usually enter. So I will raise you to seven sickles that they try to hex us once when we get to our respective tables, and that Professor Hudson will catch one culprit and either one of us the other one."
"Rats. Knowing you, that is the most accurate outcome. You are no fun, Mycroft Holmes, and that is not a good quality in a boyfriend." She pouted, and Mycroft did not doubt that it was what people called a 'power pout' or something ridiculous like that, something out of Anthea's muggle magazines. Probably had most men crumble to their knees. Luckily, Mycroft Holmes was not most men.
"Is there something wrong with your mouth? Maybe I can charm it back to normal?"
"Fancy yourself a Healer now Mycie?" - Mycroft cringed since that was the worst possible nickname the woman could bestow on him - "I thought Unspeakable was your trade of choice."
Mycroft spluttered at that, almost spitting his tea, which was a sin unto itself, and he caught the smile in Elizabeth's face, a smile that seemed to say 'Got you' — infuriating female.
"I don't know where you get your information these days, dear, your sources seem to be misleading you."
"Mycroft, sweetheart, my sources are anything but misleading. I know you want everyone to believe you are the good little intern at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, working for your Uncle Rudolph and all that. But don't forget, my mother is Demelza Avery, Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and she has said many times 'If Rudolph Vernet is just a paper pusher I would eat my hat'. Mother's hat has a stuffed swan on it Mycroft, so I take her words seriously."
"Well, it seems your Mother, besides dastardly choices in fashion, also appears to be a little misguided. True, the Departement of International Magical Cooperation might seem boring to some, but it brings in some rewarding enterprises. Like the one currently bestowed to Hogwarts this year."
"You can tell me know; this was all your idea?"
"Well, yes, but I'd appreciate sharing the blame if the student body is less receptive than expected to it."
"All good couples share both joy and grief Mycroft. I wouldn't be a great girlfriend if I didn't share the blame if this blows out. Or the praise if everyone adores it, which I suspect they will."
She patted his hand and smiled at him, then crossed her eyes at him, which made him laugh again. Silly girl, her attempts at charm were endearing, and she was nice to be around to, now that she didn't give Mycroft the choice of avoiding her. Too bad her efforts were a complete waste of her time. In the middle of his laughter, Mycroft felt eyes over him other than his tea partner, but he looked around, and he thought he might have spotted the tail of a Hogwarts robe, but he dismissed the thought immediately. After all, students were not allowed in Hogsmeade unless in scheduled school trips, excluding some cases, like Elizabeth and him today.
Lunch couldn't happen fast enough. Professor Knight had scolded Greg for his lack of attention in class, where his shield charm was not doing its job correctly, and he kept getting hexed by Anderson, who looked more pleased than he should have. Greg got extra homework - 'your shield charm is the most crucial spell for defence, Master Lestrade, don't forget it' - and his usual good mood kept getting worse as the hours passed. They had Transfiguration next, and Professor Hudson shooed him as soon as he got close to her desk. She didn't even let him open his mouth. He thought his head of House would be understanding. After all, it was Quidditch. It seemed most of the students acted calmed enough to wait until lunch, but Greg felt terrible. He almost messed his spells; they were supposed to transfigure their non-dominant hand into different animal paws. He hoped Professor Hudson didn't notice that one of his fingers was missing a talon and had his usual and very human nail. She gave them three feet on human transfiguration and Animagi for their next class and glared again when Greg approached the desk, her nose doing this wrinkly thing in the top that meant 'approach under your own risk'. Feeling dejected, Greg left the classroom and decided that lunch was next, but he would feel a lot better if he had a little head start on the information. The ban on Quidditch had to be temporary. It had to be.
He walked gloomily and took his space on the Hufflepuff table, and as soon as he sat, Anderson, Stamford, Gregson and even Molly sat around him.
"Mate. Mate, do you know anything about this?". Anderson kept fidgeting and looking around to see if a teacher was listening in. Apparently, Greg wasn't the only one who was told off.
"Phil, I know the same as you, which is absolutely nothing."
"Shit. Do you think the Headmaster is really going to cancel Quidditch? I know things get tense after matches, and sometimes it causes trouble between the houses, but it's the tradition!" - this time Gregson was doing his rightful-indignation stance - "Look, for example, Sally and Phil, they play in opposite teams, and they are still dating!"
"Not a good example, Toby, Sal hexed me when I commented on me catching her last goal attempt on the match." The rest of the group declined to comment. No one knew how Sally managed to tolerate Phillip, since he was a git most of the times, even though he was a decent Keeper. Greg suspected she just had terrible taste in men. Not that he could say anything since apparently his taste in men involved secretive evil overlords who planned to cancel Quidditch all along.
The hall started filling with people. The tables filled with whispering, the tension was so high it seemed like a magical crossbow ready to spring into the least suspecting bystander, indifferent, nervous and just pissed off students prepared to jump and complain. Greg hoped the announcement would happen at the beginning of the meal if not, someone should be protecting both Elizabeth and Mycroft from furtive hexes. Not that he cared. Maybe they could protect each other. Like, people who held hands usually did that for each other, right? Get yourself together, Lestrade. It's not like he had any claim on Mycroft, they were not dating, hell, the man was even tricky to befriend in the first place, but he hated losing without also getting a chance to play the game.
As soon as those treacherous thoughts started, he saw the High Table filled with Hogwarts staff. Through the side doors where usually just the teachers entered the Hall, Headmaster Stamford made his way to his usual seat, followed by Mycroft and Elizabeth, who came in together and separated just to walk to their respective House tables, not before Mycroft said something in Elizabeth's ear that made her beam back at him. He felt the spike of jealousy again, like a pang in his gut, remembering the idyllic picture he saw today in Hogsmeade. Elizabeth had a good point. They looked great together.
Mycroft felt the usual pull of side-along apparition, listening to the cheery small talk Headmaster Stamford characterised for. He was sure he was right, and the news would be received poorly at first, but then the whole school was sure to embrace the plan. Eventually, at least. They arrived at the Great Hall, and Elizabeth was fast to move to his side, close enough to brush her shoulders with his as they walked. He was sure that was no accident, so he moved close enough to whisper in her ear.
"Afraid of some hexing Elizabeth? Or of losing your seven sickles? Dear me, now I know why the Sorting Hat didn't place you on Gryffindor." Elizabeth, perplexing Mycroft as usual, just smiled as if he had just declared his undying love for her.
They moved to their respective tables, and just before sitting down, Mycroft caught a sneaky spell in his usual seat across from Anthea. Damnation. Whoever did that was prepared to do it before they arrived at the Great Hall. Maybe that wouldn't count in their bet. He made an exaggerated motion of removing the spell, more for the Slytherin table sake. They needed to remember who they were dealing with, poor misguided souls.
"Do I need to ask if you know who did it?"
"I did." Mycroft gasped loudly as the utter betrayal from his oldest friend and companion; he couldn't believe Anthea would want to hex him. At least not today. Quidditch was not high in her priority list.
"Oh. And pray tell me, what possessed you to hex my usual sitting spot?"
"Better people see that someone hexed the place so they would think the matter is solved before they tried to hex you away from your pumpkin juice and lunch. Also, I might have been a little bit miffed that you didn't include me in your plans this time."
"Apologies for that, but time and secrecy were the essence in this particular ordeal."
"Seemed you included your girlfriend on the plan, though."
Mycroft looked around in panic, trying to figure out if anyone else but them was listening in on the conversation, which of course, the Slytherins were not, since they knew what was good for them.
"Anthea, please don't say that out loud ever again. Merlin knows, she might hear you and get some ideas in her head."
"Don't worry. I'm sure one day you will surprise her with some rampaging homosexuality."
"Let's pray I've not married her and sired three children before that. That woman seems to get anything she wants."
"Even you must know that you need to have sex with her to have children. How would you manage that without magic, I would pay to see."
"You have a sadistic streak, dearest, which I enjoy when not directed at me. Let's bury the hatchet, and I will involve you in my nefarious plans from now on."
"We have a deal. But I still get to tease you about your girlfriend - in writing."
Mycroft rolled his eyes, but his reply died quickly since that was the moment the Headmaster decided to address the student body, his usual smile in place and sparkly eyes that spelt mischief. The thing was, that even though he was the gentlest soul in the whole world, the student body still respected him, so when he moved from the table to the podium, the chattering died. Everyone looked expectant, and Mycroft took his chance to look around. Sally was glaring at him from the Gryffindor table, and he almost smiled at that. Let her glare. She would get her chance to shine, but Mycroft was hoping for someone else to end this night with a victory.
"My dear students, why the long faces? Got the wrong end of a lengthening charm?" The Headmaster joked, but as usual, no one laughed except himself. Ignoring his audience, he continued addressing the student body, "Today some of you received some unwelcome news." Muttering from all the house tables, and he stopped his speech until it ceased, "But fear not, little ones, there is a reason for everything. As some of you might know, some of the teachers and even students have expressed their concern in how much the Interhouse Quidditch Tournament affects inter-house unity." A loud gasp from the Gryffindor table, and after a few shooshing motions, poor John Watson was red as a beetroot.
"Our faculty was trying to find a solution, and one was offered, from an unlikely source. The Head of the International Magical Cooperation Department at the Ministry of Magic tried and failed to organize an international event that involved less mayhem than the Triwizard Tournament, an event that included the three big European magic schools, as many of you know, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute." The muttering started again, this time louder, and students started gesturing to each other, while the Headmaster paused and drank from his goblet. The man sure loves his drama, Mycroft chuckled to himself as Anthea gave him an annoyed raised eyebrow. Soon, the noise ended again, and Headmaster Stamford started once more, "Luckily, one of our own students who is interning at his department had a great idea, an idea that would help us not only host the magical schools, but that will help close the gap a little between the houses." The whole Slytherin table, well, the whole school looked at Mycroft while he quietly sipped his juice. He was used to stares. But he could feel the piercing stare coming from the Hufflepuff table like a beacon calling him, and true, when he looked back, Gregory Lestrade was staring directly at him. The other boy blushed but held his gaze defiantly.
"I want to proudly raise my glass to our Head Boy, Mycroft Holmes." He motioned with his goblet, but only the staff at the Professor's table followed his move. "We are going to be the first school to host the International Quidditch tournament!" Now the chatter started loudly and some people complained, but the Headmaster ignored them and soldiered on. "We are going to have a school team, with members from the four houses. Now, I know each house has its own team, but the idea is for integration. True, each team has a Captain and selecting who will lead our own school team should be done by an impartial judge. So I bring you, the Goblet of Fire." The Great Hall was silent once more, as Professors Knight and Gregson brought the big flaming cup from the side room and placed it in front of the whole school. Mycroft's belly tied up in a big fancy bow. True, he wanted the tournament to go on because it suited his plans perfectly. But he couldn't pretend to want less for Gregory to win this particular assignment. He would be perfect, the School Team Captain, the best Quidditch player in the four houses, also the most loyal and caring. Handsome too, but that was inconsequential.
"The names of all 28 of the house team members are inside the Goblet as we speak, that is, since we wanted someone with experience for the Quidditch Captain role. But the tryouts for school teams will be open for everyone, even people who are not playing for their house teams as we speak. The new school Captain will set the tryouts as soon as possible and will assure that the schedule doesn't clash with his or her schoolwork. The answer is set to appear in a couple of...." and just like that, a piece of scorched paper appeared in the air, and fell inside the Headmaster's goblet. "Blimey, it seems the Goblet was eager enough to tell us the result, now our Captain's name is a little wet! We will take that as a good omen!" The tension in the Hall could cut through diamonds, and the Headmaster made the whole charade of doing a drying spell and opening the paper slowly.
"Just get on with it already!" Someone who sounded suspiciously like Sherlock said from the Ravenclaw table. But Sherlock Holmes was sipping juice from his goblet, looking insanely bored. Professor Hudson gave him the stink eye nonetheless.
"Our new school Captain is Gregory Lestrade!"
Greg was deafened by the cheers erupting from the four house tables. Even the Slytherin crowd joined. He felt the world move around him in slow motion as his table patted him on the back and made him move towards the table up front. The Headmaster was beaming at him as he accepted the piece of paper with his name on it. It looked suspiciously like a piece of his Transfiguration homework, and he glanced slowly towards Professor Hudson, who he could swear was wiping a tear from her face. He hoped he wasn't meant to make a speech since the only thing that would probably erupt from his mouth right now would probably be some kind of toad. Sensing his unease, Professor Stamford grabbed the hand holding the paper and raised it up, which caused the ruckus to start once more. Greg swore he could see Mycroft smiling his way before hiding behind his Goblet.
Wonderful, wonderful genius man, how could his mind had doubted that brilliant mind of his? True, someone else could have been chosen Captain by the Goblet, but he was a good player. He would have done his best at tryouts, and probably earned a spot in the team that was going to make Hogwarts history. He knew Mycroft probably had his own reasons for staging this tournament, evil mastermind that he was, but some little part of him hoped that he at least thought of him when proposing the plan. He glanced at the Ravenclaw table, where Elizabeth was clapping politely with the rest of the students. He wasn't ready to give up yet. That little smile behind the goblet that he may have imagined was going to be his to share. Greg Lestrade was a fighter, a tenacious, hardworking man.
The Headmaster said something to the crowd and people started eating, so probably he needed to move back to his table, but he motioned Greg to move closer before letting him go.
"Greg, the Goblet is a magically binding contract, but we made a little change since we placed all the names without consulting with the students first. I need to ask, are you up to the challenge? There would be no consequences if you decline the Captain role." And then he extended his hand to shake. Greg understood immediately. If he shook on it, he was in.
Greg glanced at Mycroft again, who was now looking straight at him and mouthed "Good job". Greg beamed, and without taking his eyes from Mycroft, he took the proffered hand and replied, "Yes! Thank you, Headmaster! I appreciate the chance. Completely up to the challenge." In more ways than one.