THC/The Houses Competition

House:Gryffindor

Category: Standard

Class: Potions

Prompt(s): [AU OR Crossover] Sherlock Holmes Harry!

[Dialogue] "I only came here because I was forced to"

Word Count: 1346

Summary: A new life found for an old Auror in which he stays behind with a muggle.

Title: An Auror's Choice

John Waston, a retired Auror, made his way through the grounds of Hogwarts, a place he once called home. Memoirs of his time at school came rushing back as he passed the first-floor corridor. It was truly amazing how much emotion could be held within the cracks of a thousand year old castle. As he turned at the right side of a staircase a newly-made mother in a portrait hushed him as her baby started to whine at the noise he was making. He uttered a quick apology to the woman as he continued down the serpentine corridor on the third-floor. He knew most people paid no mind to the portraits, after all they were just charmed paintings, but to John, he felt as if they had feelings. During his time at Hogwarts, he noticed that portraits could become sad or even depressed when people ignored their efforts to communicate. Portraits would become excited during a quidditch match and they even became scared when Peeves pulled one of his unsettling pranks. Portraits were just like any other person walking around and they deserved to be respected as such.

John soon stopped at a large oak door that had intricate carvings of a floral pattern. He knocked three times, only entering when he heard his old Professor's voice tell him to come in. John took a moment to admire the room as he entered. The room was cozy, nine feet by nine-and-a-half feet. It had a large fireplace set against the back wall with two old leather chairs set in front of it. Across from the fireplace was an old worn desk sitting in front of a small window overlooking the training grounds and the quidditch pitch. The sparse stone floor pulled the room together, making it feel warm and safe for any student who may enter.

"Professor," John greeted, closing the door behind him and taking a step inside the office. John could feel himself revert back to his eleven year old self. Feeling the nervousness he felt the first time he made his way up the Great Hall to be sorted into his house.

"Honestly John, how many times must I insist you call me Minerva? I haven't been your Professor in years," McGonagall replied with a warm smile before motioning to one of the leather chairs in front of the fire. "Please take a seat. Tea?" McGonagall asked, already pouring the tea into the cups before John had a chance to answer.

"You will always be my Professor no matter how many years pass," John replied as he took a seat, setting his cane up against the side of the chair before stretching his leg out. "Two sugars if you don't mind."

"Still got your sweet tooth, I see," McGonagall commented, putting two spoonfuls of sugar into the tea before passing it to John. "First off, I must thank you for coming," she started, pouring herself a cup of tea as well before taking a seat.

"I only came here because I was forced to," John replied, not unkindly but a hint of frustration could still be detected in his voice.

"No one forced you to come; you could have just said no," McGonagall pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

"When was the last time anyone said no to Albus Dumbeldore?" John retorted with a small smirk before lightly blowing on his tea and taking a sip. John really wasn't that upset even if he was ordered to come, it was always nice to come and visit Hogwarts when he could.

McGonagall had to hide her smile by covering it with her teacup. John did have a point; she couldn't remember the last time someone was brave enough to say no to Albus. "Anyways," McGonagall cleared her throat. "Albus wanted me to talk to you. We are looking for a Defense Against the Arts Professor and we would love it if you consider taking on the position," McGonagall explained.

"Really?" John questioned, shifting himself so he was facing McGonagall a little more. "You want me to teach? Even after what happened?"

"What happened wasn't your fault," McGonagall reassured.

"The Ministry didn't seem to think so. I was lucky enough to be able to keep my wand," John spoke, his smile turning into a frown as he thought back to that day. His hands were stained with the blood of an innocent muggle and he will never be able to scrub them clean. John thought back to that day; the weather was horrendous. The pouring rain covered his vision and as the muggle came out of the alley, John believed him to be the dark wizard he had been chasing. He sent out a curse, not realizing his mistake until it was too late.

"The Ministry was wrong. As much as I hate to say it, he wasn't the first muggle to die due to wizarding war. Muggles get caught in the crossfire of curses. It happens and it wasn't your fault that this muggle happened to come out of the alley at the same time you were chasing down a dark wizard. It was a horrible mistake but a mistake, nonetheless," McGonagall stated.

"It was a mistake that cost a man his life. He had a wife, kids, and now they have to grow up without a father because of a mistake that I made," John responded. It didn't matter how many people told him that it wasn't his fault. He was the one who mistook the man for the wizard and sent a deadly curse at him. He was the one who took the man's life away and he now had to live with it.

McGonagall could only frown, she could just imagine what it must feel like to take the life from another, expressly one who was innocent. "We would love it if you would join us this year," McGonagall said in hopes of moving the conversation along. "You would have your own quarters and the pay isn't bad. We are willing to make any accommodations you might need," she explained.

John allowed a soft smile to cross his face. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid I have to turn it down. I am quite content with where my life is right now."

McGonagall looked confused for a moment. "I thought you said you would rather live in Azkaban than to live in the muggle world. May I ask what has changed?" McGonagall questioned.

"I met someone," John answered, a smile forming on his lips.

"...A muggle?" McGonagall asked, even more confused than she was before.

"Yes, he's a muggle," John confirmed. "He's a detective and you should see what he's capable of. He's truly amazing!" John spoke, a twinkle in his eyes showing when he thought about Sherlock. "I moved into his flat a month ago and I started assisting him with his work. I do find the work to be very rewarding, even if it's muggle work," he went on as his eyes continue to twinkle. "I know it seems fast, but it feels right."

Mcgonagall nodded as she mindlessly stirred her tea. "Are you not concerned that he'll…." She took a moment to think of the right words to say.

"Figure out it's not actually a bullet scar but left over from a curse?" John asked, finishing McGonagall's sentence before she had a chance to.

"Well, yes," Mcgonagall answered bluntly.

John nodded, letting out a small chuckle as he leaned back in his chair. "He's yet to wonder how the tea makes itself every morning," he began. "I'm not concerned."

McGonagall chuckled as she nodded. "Well, I'm glad that you are happy. We'll find someone else to fill in for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Shall we finish our tea?" McGonagall asked as she held up her cup a little. "You can tell me more about this man; I want to know everything about him."

John smiled, taking another sip of his tea before he spent the rest of the night telling his old Professor about Sherlock Holmes.