Harry and the Magic Factory
Chapter 11
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Fred Weasley was actually sweating now. Real sweat. His hair was plastered to his forehead. This test was killing him. He was now on question nineteen and he'd been working on the test for four hours. Sirius Black and the other proctors made people stop once an hour to drink water, but this thing was killing him.
"19. Discuss the ethical dilemma confronted by your hypothetical participation in warfare. When is it permitted to kill or maim rather than capture? Use any three ethical frameworks you prefer to complete your response."
Fred didn't know the first thing about ethics, so he worked through it as quickly as he could. It was only when he saw the next question that he breathed a small sigh of relief.
"20. Goblins are reputed to be a warlike race by most witches and wizards. Offer three short examples (one sentence each or less) to suggest alternate motivations."
That was easy. Old Ghostie Binns had certainly never taught this kind of material (as he believed goblins were capable only of horrifying violence and rebellion), so of course it was of interest to Fred. Fred had actually chatted with a number of the guards stationed in Gringotts in Diagon Alley. They were quite chatty if you asked the right questions; but most witches and wizards believed the old Binns-style line and never bothered to ask. He quickly wrote down, "Goblins are motivated strongly by the apparent safety of their family, the freedom for the discovery and working of precious metals, and the freedom to to create and protect mines – the inability to do any of them leads to their more warlike tendencies."
Fred had seventy-five more questions that were equally simple, but they covered the gamut of magic from history to conjuration to ancient runes and spell-based warding. He was now in the nineties after twenty minutes passed. This test was hard and bizarre. Impossible, multipart questions followed by short, simple, but wide-ranging short answer things. His brain felt sore; it certainly didn't get this much use back in his cubicle in the Ministry of Magic.
And now back to even harder multipart questions. How was he going to last through four hundred or more of these questions?
"94. Within the history of wizarding practical jokes, most pranksters focus on charms work or potions, but neglect other areas of the wizarding repertoire – and completely ignore the contributions to pranking from muggles and other species. Using a minimum of one truth potion (you specify the exact variety), three muggle (or nonmagical) means, two different warding schemes, one conjuration or transfiguration, one projectile vomiting potion, and three techniques from nonhuman pranking (dragon pranks are not approved for this question as a result of their lethality), sketch out who the recipients of the prank will be (and why), what their physical surroundings will look like, and how you will use these means (plus any other necessary) to achieve your affect. What chance of success do you give yourself based on this plan?"
Holy Merlin. Now this was the kind of question Fred enjoyed answering. In fact, he already had a half dozen potential scenarios in his head. And each of them was bizarre and completely brilliant. Oh my. Oh my!
This was the hardest question Fred had seen so far (warding, transfiguration, obscure muggle history, obscure history of other races, two very challenging potions, plus logic, engineering, and planning), but his heart was racing with excitement. He had already learned about a dozen new things just from reading the question – and he still didn't have the slightest idea of what a dragon prank might be, but it sounded worthwhile researching.
George had been enjoying his test for longer than his brother, Fred. He was also up to question 107. But that question was a real impossibility: it obviously had no correct answers. So George decided to try his best.
"107. You are in a combat situation with three level 2-trained witches and wizards (meaning they've passed their basic competency but have not yet begun mastery studies) along with four unknown creatures. The setting is a dark room. You know that additional reinforcements are coming for both sides within two minutes. What do you do with your two minutes to ensure maximum safety for yourself and maximum damage to your enemies? Please demonstrate knowledge of non-lethal offensive dueling techniques in addition to at least three types of defensive measures. Assume at least one of the creatures is heavily magic resistant. Assume none of the witches or wizards are trained in mind magics or necromancy."
How could one witch or wizard – namely George – stand up for two minutes under those kinds of odds? Creatures and equivalent- or better-trained human opponents. Impossible! But George started scratching down some ideas. He only had to survive for two minutes. And George was strong with his charms and with his limited conjuration. His defense was pretty decent, but on the offense he didn't know much as Hogwarts hadn't really bothered to teach it.
So George scratched out the following. "Grounded semi-spherical protection ward preventing any spells from coming in or leaving it. Use of a full body Air Bubble Charm on myself. Dropping a handful of the Noxious Nettles potions I carry on myself inside the middle of the protection sphere. Anyone wishing to cause me harm would have to come inside and fight while eyes and skin are under fierce attack. Would add a darkening ward to the protection sphere to reduce visibility of the inside and me from the outside. Conjure small piece of wood; transfigure into a hacking weapon of some kind to use against the magic resistant animal, if it comes into attacking range. Set up four interlaced detection wards outside the protection bubble to alert me who is attempting to breach. Twist several offensive wards into the detection ones to mask them. Offensive wards would be confunding or mind inversion wards as they're relatively simple when cast as spells. For offensive dueling inside protection sphere, would use fast to cast spells like Reducto and Incendio. The more powerful offensive spells I know have more obvious tells, where I can cast Reducto and Incendio nearly wordlessly…"
It wasn't that much of a plan, but George thought it might actually last through two minutes. It would even the odds a bit, force the attackers to come into a specially prepared environment. And a protection sphere, grounded to the earth in some way, was simple to cast, but took far longer than two minutes to break. The only complication was trying to get the attackers to come at him in a reasonable manner. He could probably deal with one or two at a time. So George added this, "Would also attempt to transfigure other items in the room into large slabs of stone, then levitate them into a rough circle around my protection sphere, leaving only one easy point of entrance into the protection sphere. Any attempts at coming in through other areas would be announced by heavy spell work first…"
George re-read his answer and was more than pleased. The scenario had almost stopped his heart, but given a moment of time, George realized he actually understood more defense and more offense than he expected. He doubted whether he could actually cast all the wards necessary in the allotted time – or before he was attacked – but at least it was guidance as to what to do. Plus the basis of his defense, one ward, one thrown potion vial, and one charm was actually very fast work. It was all the extra goodies that'd take time. But George knew he could have the basic framework up in ten seconds or so.
He moved on to the next question. History, magical theory, and politics this one. "108. Recount briefly the historical and political process that lead the British Ministry of Magic to declare three particular spells Unforgivable. Compare this with the process used in one other country of your choice. Finally, briefly, state your opinion on whether the process correctly identified the right spells as Unforgivable. If you disagree with the findings, list your chosen Unforgivable candidate spells, if any."
That was the kind of question George expected: rough, like a kick in the teeth. He now wished he'd at least opened his History of Magic textbooks, even if he couldn't abide Binns' lectures. George wouldn't be getting much credit, if any, for this question. So he pulled out his best bullshitting skills and started writing some half intelligible answers.
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Harry Potter finished the longhand version of his book on Tom Riddle. The last portions of the story were easier to tell than he'd expected. Now it was time to hand the whole thing off to the editorial staff; they knew to expect it. The book would be published without authorial attribution and that made Harry all the more pleased. He had no desire for fame from such an obviously fickle public. At least the people inside the Potter Estate knew him. Harry had met every single one many times, not the least of which when each citizen came before the Mastery Board. Harry, as the most gifted of the Masters, chaired the panel and basically decided whether people were allowed to become citizens or not. He had to ensure that only decent, if not good, people with suitable ethical frameworks were allowed to stay. Because evil people could learn a lot of damaging stuff by hanging around – more than enough arcane and dark arts to set themselves up far better than even Tom Riddle had. Hell, Potter Estate had its own necromantics division, assuming a would-be evil lord were interested in inferi and other hellish abominations.
It was vital that only intelligent, ethical people be inducted into the mysteries, be given access to whatever knowledge they desired. That was perhaps the job Harry took the most seriously: his chairing of the Mastery Board. Perhaps, Harry wondered, it was time to take a look at everyone who already had their Mastery. It would be a useful thing to make sure everyone was fulfilling their oaths to continue and improve in their fields. Useless people were a drag on the Potter Estate. Contribute and you'd be welcome to stay; become a parasite, like that now-destroyed dead dark lord, and you were no longer welcome in any respect.
Harry walked outside his office and crossed the hall. He knocked on the conference room door and then walked through. The smiling faces had been waiting for this day: the end of Tom Riddle, the day when they could begin informing the world about his failures.
Harry watched as the editorial witches and wizards began transcribing his hand written book into neat, legible pass of typescript. They had a few questions for him before Harry left them to their work. "The sooner, the better" was his only request.
Harry portaled to the Magic Factory. He knew the staff there would still be around and he had time for his weekly business update. Harry loved the business that Sirius and Remus had founded, that Lily and James had been advising since the necromancers had managed to make contact with their spirits. But Harry now treated it as his own: he loved spending hours in all the different divisions. He personally could test pranks or talk potions for hours. He was reputed to have personal experiments and projects brewing in six different divisions; Harry knew it was actually eight.
But Harry did not particularly enjoy the financial aspects. His businesses made money, lots of it. That's all that Harry asked: have fun, do interesting work, and make me a bit of money. But trying to figure out how to make even more wasn't all that interesting to him. Instead, he focused on the people he hired and let them exercise their passions. Still, he had weekly meetings to ensure Harry didn't completely forget that part of business: no one could be busy without having cash come in the doors.
So, while everyone focused on the money, the knuts and galleons, dollars and euros, Harry focused on the bigger picture. He only needed to money to ensure that his grander plans came to pass. So he focused on making the money work for him.
Harry walked up the stairs and entered the Counting Room. The seven employees had seemingly been expecting him. They had quickly conjured up a table and a chair for him and were prepared to report.
Harry sat down, flicked quickly through the thick sheaf of papers they laid before him, and listened while the first twenty minutes went by. Each one knew they had three to five minutes to summarize. Harry would direct the questions from there.
When the presentations were over, Harry turned to the thick sheaf of papers and asked one of his financial managers a simple question, "Has our investment in pharmaceutical companies paid off in their being more receptive to following our advice?"
These people didn't understand R&D. They knew profit margins and the like. But they still understood that Pfizer, Merck, and all the others were beginning to die because of their unchanging methods of research – and their terribly inefficient methods of drug discovery.
So the advisors had to tell the truth, the truth Harry already knew.
Harry stood up and plucked a thin volume from a shelf. He'd written the outline of this plan several years ago, everyone in the room knew about that earlier draft, but none of them had particularly liked it. It meant vast changes to how they managed money.
"This is what I call Wing Attack Plan R because it's completely insane and also guaranteed to work." Harry loved talking in Muggle jokes with this straight backed wizards. Now they'd be condemned to go out and figure out the allusion. "I've listened to all of you, then to the goblins, then to the best of the gurus in the Muggle world. And I think I'm done sitting on the fence. Here's how it lays out. Anything of strategic importance to us, like ensuring better health care to muggles, for example, we own completely, either through an outright acquisition or the founding of a new company. Like that Oracle of Omaha seems to think, it's better to own than rent."
Another allusion. Another thing to look up.
"Keep the investments in the pharmaceutical companies, but stop passing them ideas. We'll found a new company, call it a biotech, give it ideas from the magical world. It'll drive everyone else out of business in twenty years. And don't let it focus on just cancer cures and the like. Let's fix the more minor issues: let's give them a mild bone healing cure, so they don't have to deal with plaster casts and the like. Let's own food companies. Let's own solid, stable businesses that will be around for a hundred years or more. You can still throw money after these other things, but it will be an after thought only, opportunistic. Our strategy is too important to waste on foolish Muggles, we'll only work with the smart ones…"
Everyone around the table already knew Harry's definition of a food. "If I show a man a wonderful thing and he doesn't try to copy it immediately, he's a fool."
"Also, I thought I'd pass along some information I've been thinking about…stuff that came from the goblins a few months back. It seems they practice a form of divination, but it is almost solely focused on wealth and how to gain more of it. What they mentioned was a three part prophecy, which I agree seems to make sense: translated it says, "The old and true loses value, but is richer than ever before. The bright and sparkly has glister in everyone's eye, but will drop more quickly than it rose, a puff of air dispelled. Land as always, a forest of evergreen, ever to grace the world and preside."
The table fell into dissecting the goblin prophecy. Although everyone knew that it was rare to impossible that goblins would ever share with a human, no one mentioned how extraordinary this information was. Harry didn't seem to know or care. He, like the goblins, just wanted to know what he could do with it.
Harry had spent a long time nursing it over, and comparing it to the Muggle world. He could already see what was happening. Irrational muggles are quickly parted from their money. Harry didn't mind playing in their pool for a while, but he wouldn't be the one left poorer at the end.
"…so dabble as you like, even with some high risk possibilities. Focus especially on things that work with information, that process it or store it or retrieve it. They have infinitely better tools than we do now. But ignore their medicine, their transportation, and the rest unless we decide to buy it outright. We'll own a thing, or play with it like a fish in a current, but we won't bank on Muggles listening to us unless we control their companies. The goblins were telling me the other day that when they go off to steal the Muggle records from their financial auditors that these well-paid auditors don't even catch half the schemes these Muggles are pulling. It's like everyone is blind over there. But we won't be. No funny business, none. Child abusers, thieves, and cheats – my top three forms of crime, you know."
The meeting lasted a while longer, but everyone knew that the important meeting would come after everyone absorbed this so-called "Wing Attack Plan R" that Harry had drawn up. All the advice he'd mentioned – their new rules, it seemed – was sensible, but seemed very conservative for reason. Obviously buying up tons of undeveloped land, tons of fully developed real estate, and then buying companies out of favor with the general public didn't seem very sexy stuff. It would be a while until these advisors realized the kind of quiet revolution Harry was advocating.
He'd copied several elements of his proposed style from the American muggle billionaire Warren Buffett. Harry always liked to steal ideas from the best. In this case, the 'best' was proven by who became the richest.
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Cheating or borrowing ideas was well-respected, if only secretly, in the business world. However, stealing or cheating on an examination was a fairly dangerous concept. It was too bad that that particular lesson hadn't permeated the minds of all the Chosen.
Sirius Black, returned from his midday break, was back to proctoring the examination. He saw the problem first. The young girl named Lisa Turpin, reputedly the smartest witch in her year at Hogwarts, had apparently frozen up. Her face was drawn and almost shock-white.
He offered her some water or a brief break. She'd accepted the water then refused to stop, even for a short break.
Then, ten minutes later, she looked human again. It wasn't a minute later when she screamed like someone was murdering her.
"My answer disappeared," she whimpered. "I had written it halfway, about the Philosopher's Stone and making the Elixir of Life…and why other methods at increasing longevity had failed. Now it's all gone, my whole answer is ruined." Her voice had gotten steadily strong the longer she wailed in unhappiness.
Sirius knew what the most likely problem was. So, he paused the testing for everyone, gave them a fifteen minute break, and then went to address this Lisa Turpin.
He comforted her for a moment before pulling her testing device away from her. He tapped it once with his wand and was shocked at what he saw. This 'smartest witch of her year' was only on question seventeen after six and a half hours of testing. All of the other had to be near question two hundred or beyond. Why was she so far behind?
She shook his head, trying to clear it. Then he tapped the device once more. The resulting answer on the screen was clear and unpleasant. "Use of "Potion of Knowledge" Recorded Three Minutes Earlier; Testing Halted."
Sirius frowned. Then he set the device down and cast a spell at Lisa. It gave him the same results as what the device had implied. Lisa had cheated by using a prohibited potion. God only knows why she'd brought it with her. But she had definitely ingested it, perhaps at the same time she'd been having her earlier breakdown. A smart witch only getting through a handful of these questions in six-plus hours was enough to tempt anyone into cheating. But not everyone fell.
Sirius called for Totobama. Lisa let herself be taken away by the house elf. She didn't know it yet but Lisa would now be forever prohibited from becoming a citizen of the Potter Estate. Cheating was as close to a capital crime as Harry had ever decreed; just slightly lower on the scale than child abuse and theft.
Sirius sighed for a second. He also realized that Lisa hadn't exactly failed the test, either. She'd cheated and been caught. So any of the inter-faculty betting was null and void now. No one had placed bets on cheating; just as no one would have been silly enough to predict that that Snape child would have tried his little stunt.
What were these people teaching their children? Cheating, theft, attempting to resurrect a Dark Lord…did anyone have any common sense left? The British citizenry, based on these emissaries, seemed to be as corrupt as they came.
Sirius wondered what other horrors they'd discover before these Chosen were fully tested and vetted.
He walked back to the door, let in the Chosen, and briefly explained that Lisa had left the program. He'd leave it to Harry to decide whether a fuller explanation was needed.