HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

After Sherlock gave his affirmative answer, Professor McGonagall thought it over carefully for a moment before speaking.

”From the way you’ve just described this profession, it sounds like you mean to take on criminals in both the Muggle world and the wizarding world at once.

If that’s the case, I think you could use the Auror requirements as a reference point. After all, an Auror’s duty is to investigate Dark wizarding crimes and to apprehend or detain those who break wizarding law.

That has a great deal in common with what you’re calling a ’consulting detective.’

What do you think?”

Sherlock nodded. ”I have no objection.”

”Good. Then I should tell you—the requirements for becoming an Auror are extremely strict. You’ll need excellent marks.”

Professor McGonagall’s expression turned serious.

She furrowed her brow, bent down, and drew a small black leaflet with worn edges out from beneath the clutter of papers on her desk. Smoothing the creases flat with her fingertips, she said to Sherlock seriously. ”To become an Auror you need at least five N.E.W.T.s, none below ’Good.’

Beyond that, you’ll have to pass a rigorous series of character and aptitude tests at the Auror Office—covering courage, perseverance, resourcefulness, and moral judgment, among other things.

It’s not an easy profession to enter, Mr. Holmes, because they only take the very best.

In fact, if I recall correctly, they haven’t taken on a single new recruit in the last three years.”

Professor McGonagall said this quite earnestly, but Sherlock shook his head.

”You’re mistaken, Professor.”

”I beg your pardon?”

Professor McGonagall went still, her eyes were widening slightly behind her square spectacles as a trace of disbelieving confusion appeared across her face. ”I’m mistaken?”

”Nymphadora Tonks.”

Sherlock smiled faintly and said the name. ”She told me herself she officially became an Auror in 1994.”

”Oh—ah, then she simply didn’t explain it to you properly.”

Professor McGonagall, renowned for her rigor, let out a breath of relief and raised a hand to pat her chest lightly, clearly having believed for a moment that her own memory had failed her. ”Auror training takes three years, so she would actually have been recruited back in 1991.

As it happens, she was one of the finest in that intake—which is precisely how she managed to stand out in such fierce competition and become one of the last few accepted.

Of course, what you call a ’consulting detective’ doesn’t require passing the Auror Office’s examinations.

But I would still recommend you focus your studies on certain subjects. It will serve you well in your future work.”

Professor McGonagall drew a deep breath, straightened her spine, and began listing them off one by one.

”First, Defence Against the Dark Arts: I hardly need explain why—fighting criminals, Dark wizards especially, this is a core skill you must have.

Second, Transfiguration: I imagine you’ll need to transfigure and un-transfigure things frequently in the course of your investigations—you may even need Transfiguration to fashion disguises or tools.

My N.E.W.T. class only accepts students who scored ’Good’ or higher on their O.W.L., but you needn’t worry on that account.

Your current marks meet the requirement easily—more than meet it, in fact.

Mr. Holmes, your grasp of the theory and your practical ability are both outstanding. You’re something of a prodigy at Transfiguration, truly.”

When it came to speaking of her own subject, Professor McGonagall allowed herself a rare extra word or two.

”Third, Charms.

All manner of practical charms are useful at any moment—for attack, for defence, or for gathering evidence.

And last, Potions.

Potions and their antidotes are basic knowledge an Auror must have.

Tracking potions, Veritaserum, healing draughts—these can all come into play in an investigation or a fight. I imagine your ’consulting detective’ work will require the same knowledge.

Oh, and there’s something I can tell you right now.

Professor Snape’s N.E.W.T. Potions class has very strict requirements.

He flatly refuses to take any student who scored below ’Outstanding’ on their O.W.L.”

”Outstanding?”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise passing through his grey eyes.

Snape had, admittedly, laid down the law on the very first lesson of the school year, declaring that he’d only take the very best students into his N.E.W.T. Potions class.

But setting the O.W.L. cutoff at a flat ”Outstanding” was still more extreme than Sherlock had expected.

Snape’s Potions class was notorious for its severity, after all, and his grading standards were nearly merciless.

Students who managed to score ”Outstanding” consistently in his class were rare even across the whole of Hogwarts.

If he actually enforced that rule, by sixth year there might not even be ten students left able to get into the Potions N.E.W.T. class.

So, could it be the man was doing this deliberately, just to lighten his own workload?

After all, the subject he truly longed to teach was Defence Against the Dark Arts.

”That’s correct, yes.”

Professor McGonagall looked at Sherlock with some puzzlement, apparently not understanding why he found this surprising.

”Of course, I do think Professor Snape’s requirements are a bit excessive.

But as the Potions professor, that’s his prerogative.

Still, you needn’t worry, Mr. Holmes.

I’ve looked over your Potions marks for the last two years, and Professor Snape has given you ’Outstanding’ almost every time.

Only a handful of ’Good’s here and there. You’ll certainly meet his requirement.”

Sherlock only smiled and said nothing.

He looked, to all appearances, as though he were tapping one finger idly against his knee while listening carefully to Professor McGonagall’s analysis—but in truth his thoughts had already wandered far away.

Sherlock himself could satisfy Snape’s requirement without the slightest difficulty. But he had no intention of becoming an Auror—he might not even take the Potions N.E.W.T. class at all.

What he was actually worried about was Harry and Ron.

Ever since he’d told his friends he meant to become a consulting detective straddling both the Muggle world and the wizarding world—Harry had been the first to thump his chest and declare that once they’d graduated, he’d become an Auror and fight at Sherlock’s side.

Hermione and Ron hadn’t taken long to decide either, following right behind him to announce that they, too, meant to become Aurors.

But judging from what Professor McGonagall had just described, becoming an Auror wasn’t going to be anything close to easy for Harry and Ron.

Never mind those character and aptitude tests, strict to the point of being nearly inhuman—the N.E.W.T. grade requirements alone were enough to give them a headache.

Ron especially. His Potions marks had never been particularly good, and every assignment he’d ever done had relied entirely on Sherlock.

Getting an ”Outstanding” on the Potions O.W.L. was, for him, next to impossible.

Thinking this over, Sherlock quietly put the matter away in his mind, resolving to find some way around it later.

He couldn’t very well let Harry and Ron fall short of their goal simply for want of marks.

After all, they were going to be his most capable assistants one day. And it would hardly do them credit if they couldn’t even clear the threshold to become Aurors.

Professor McGonagall, of course, had no idea what was going through Sherlock’s mind, and carried on giving him her earnest careers advice.

”Naturally, it would be even better if you could also do well in Herbology. Because a great many potions rely on rare herbs in their brewing. And understanding the properties of various plants can help you avoid no end of danger, whether investigating a case or working out in the field.

For instance, telling apart Venomous Tentacula from Devil’s Snare by their different habits, or recognizing asphodel, which can cure certain curses—”

By the time Sherlock came out of Professor McGonagall’s office, Hermione had already been waiting on the bench in the corridor for some time.

The spring sunlight poured through the high windows of the corridor and fell over her, gilding her brown curls with a soft edge of gold.

She sat with her hands clasped in her lap, one foot tapping lightly against the floor, plainly a little anxious from the waiting.

The moment she caught sight of Sherlock, she hurried straight over, unable to hide the tension on her face.

”Well, Sherlock? What did Professor McGonagall say? Do we have a real chance of becoming Aurors?”

”You’re fine.” Sherlock was characteristically brief, then added after a pause, ”Harry and Ron are more of a problem. Ron especially.”

”What?”

Hermione froze at that.

”Why?

”Ron’s marks aren’t top of the class, but they’re not bad either, are they?

”His Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms are both pretty decent…”

”Go talk to Professor McGonagall yourself and you’ll see.”

Sherlock didn’t elaborate further, only stepped aside to clear the way to the office.

Since Sherlock had put it that way, Hermione had no choice but to swallow her curiosity and push open the door to Professor McGonagall’s office.

What followed unfolded exactly as Sherlock had said it would.

Professor McGonagall’s manner with Hermione was much the same as it had been with Sherlock.

She said plainly that Hermione’s current academic marks were more than sufficient to meet the necessary requirements for becoming an Auror—all she lacked was the three years of professional training that came after graduation.

She also used Nymphadora Tonks as an example once again.

Back in her day, Tonks had earned outstanding N.E.W.T. marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, and Herbology.

Once she’d secured the academic standing to become an Auror candidate, she went on to pass the rigorous character and aptitude tests.

In the concealment and disguise portion, she’d scored full marks—a display of remarkable natural talent.

But she’d very nearly failed the stealth and tracking component, and only pulled it up afterward through sheer hard training.

As for Harry and Ron, Professor McGonagall’s smile disappeared.

In a stern voice, she advised them to devote most of their remaining time and energy to Potions and Transfiguration.

Otherwise, she warned, they might well be unable to get into the N.E.W.T. advanced classes at all—since those two subjects happened to be the core requirements for becoming an Auror.

Professor McGonagall even offered, of her own accord, that if the two of them were willing, she could set aside two evenings a week to tutor them personally in her office.

On this front, at least, Professor McGonagall’s teaching devotion put Professor Snape’s to shame by a considerable margin.

Once this business was settled, it seemed that for the fifth-years, the school year now came down to just two great matters.

The first, naturally, was the O.W.L. examinations that would decide the direction of their future careers.

The second was the eagerly anticipated Quidditch House Cup.

For Gryffindor, the advantage was, at the moment, undeniably theirs.

They’d played brilliantly in their first two matches, beating both Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

In the first match of the final term, Hufflepuff, led by Cedric, had turned around and beaten Slytherin by a wide margin, venting their frustrations rather satisfyingly in the process.

With that result, Slytherin had lost all three of their matches, and Hufflepuff stood at one win and two losses—both already out of the running for the House Cup.

Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, meanwhile, each had two wins, tied at the top of the standings.

Which meant the match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had become this season’s ultimate decider.

Whoever won this match would take the Quidditch House Cup for the season with a perfect record of three wins out of three.

The whole school, students and staff, was unusually keyed up over this match that would settle everything once and for all.

Partly because the honour of the Quidditch House Cup mattered enormously in its own right.

And partly because of Ron.

Gryffindor’s overall strength was clearly superior to Ravenclaw’s.

But they had one glaring weakness, and it just happened to be a crucial one.

In Gryffindor’s first two matches, Ron’s performance had been, frankly, nothing to write home about.

He’d made blunder after blunder, letting through goals more than once that he really should have saved easily.

If Harry hadn’t caught the Golden Snitch twice in a row—both times through sheer speed and a keen instinct, just before the score could pull too far apart—there was no telling whether Gryffindor would have won at all.

So now everyone wanted to see whether Harry could pull off the same trick again this time against Ravenclaw. But Harry had never once lost faith in Ron.

He kept saying Ron had simply been thrown off by the crowd, and hadn’t been able to show his true level.

Beyond that, Angelina Johnson, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, had likewise held firm to the belief that Ron did have the ability—he just needed more matches to build up his confidence.

With the captain’s backing, the support of two match MVPs, and the fact that the Weasley twins on the beater positions happened to be Ron’s own brothers, he’d managed to weather the pressure and stay in the starting lineup after all.

Time slipped by quickly, and soon it was the last weekend of May—match day.

The Great Hall was thick with the rich smell of toasted bread and coffee, laced through with a faint thread of tension in the air.

This time, at least, Ron could actually manage to eat breakfast, though his grip on his knife and fork was still a little too tight.

His face was grave while he spoke to Sherlock and Harry.

”What I mean is—I can’t possibly do worse than that, can I? There’s no way, no matter what happens, that I let in fifteen goals!”

Sherlock nodded. ”Mathematically speaking, that falls under the category of a low-probability event—one generally considered improbable in the course of a single repeated random trial.”

Harry only patted Ron on the shoulder without saying anything.

After all, if he’d actually said something like, ”I’ll definitely catch the Snitch before you can let the score run up to a hundred and fifty,” that wouldn’t be encouragement—it would be flat-out mockery.

Harry wasn’t quite like Sherlock in that way—even if, deep down, that was more or less exactly what he was thinking.

Just then, Lavender came rushing hurriedly in through the doors of the Great Hall.

Surprisingly, this time her target wasn’t Ron at all.

”Harry, you’re not going to go easy on them just because you’re up against Cho Chang, are you?”

Harry. ”...”

Watching Harry’s expression, Ron shook his head, a little helplessly.

”Lavender, Harry’s not that sort of person.”

”But Parvati heard the Ravenclaws all saying that Harry’s already fallen for Cho Chang’s charms, and means to deliberately throw the match!”

Parvati had come over by then as well, and said to Harry, quite seriously.

”Harry, you really must keep yourself in check!”

Harry: (ー_ー;)

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