A Study in Magic
by Books of Change
Warning/Notes: This is a BBC Sherlock and Harry Potter crossover AU. The HP timeline and BBC Sherlock's timeline has been shifted forwards and backwards to match up. One major BBC Sherlock character's gender has changed for the sake of the plot. Readers beware!
Chapter Eleven: Pride and Impertinence
The evening Potter was taken to St. Mungo's after a severe Asthma attack, and three Hufflepuffs and Potter's two lackeys reported someone had destroyed Potter's phone—Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle the latter two insisted—Severus found himself needing to go visit Watson. Much to his consternation, McGonagall insisted on joining.
"I don't see why this is necessary," said Severus stiffly.
McGonagall glared at him. "A student of my House has suffered such a severe Asthma attack that he had to be taken to St. Mungo's. Not only that, someone destroyed a cherished possession of his. It's my duty to inform his parents."
"I'm merely offering to do the informing since I have an appointment with the parents in question," Severus said.
"I appreciate the offer, but NO," said McGonagall. "This is my responsibility. If anything, one can argue you need not go as I have greater reason to be there."
Thus finding himself without a ground to stand on, Severus could only fume to himself. He was still quietly grumbling when they appeared in front of the door leading to Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson's upstairs flat.
It had become a comfortable ritual of his, Apparating in front of this door every week. Severus would knock, wait for a second, and then enter. Watson would be at the other end of the sitting room, seated behind the table reading a book or typing away at the laptop. Watson would look up, smile a bit and let out a soft: "Hello, Snape." Despite the pain and suffering that followed, it wasn't everyday Severus was allowed to be himself and not get told off for it, as it was in 221B, so he'd come to look forward to these weekly sessions. McGonagall's presence was like grit in a sensitive instrument, an impurity that marred a delicate balance, and Severus resented that. That McGonagall was present because she was suspicious of his motives (for good reasons) only made it worse.
Severus knocked and opened the door per routine.
The first thing Severus noticed was Watson's absence. The second thing he noticed was the stranger sitting on the leather armchair. It was a man around his age, tall, thin and angular, wearing an impeccable charcoal Muggle suit sans tie and a pearly dress shirt that looked obscenely tight. His mop of curly black hair was positively girlish in length, and his slanted blue-grey eyes were disconcerting in its colourlessness and penetrating quality. Rather than asking who Severus was or why the two of them were here, the man raked his eyes up and down at the two of them.
"Mr. Holmes," greeted McGonagall.
"Professor McGonagall," said Sherlock Holmes in a condescending way only those born of privilege could manage. "And Professor Severus Snape, I presume."
Severus nodded once as he folded his arms, fully prepared to hate the man for all eternity and beyond.
McGonagall squared her shoulders.
"Mr. Holmes, I'm afraid Mr. Potter-"
"Watson," Holmes interrupted. "His name is Harry Watson. Why he has to curtail himself to fit your world's insipid expectations I can't even imagine, but at least here call him by his actual name."
It took Severus a good deal of effort to not let his jaw drop. Did this man just…?
"…My apologies," said McGonagall stiffly. "Mr. Holmes, your son Mr. Watson was taken to St. Mungo's Hospital to get his asthma treated."
"Exercise induced?"
"Yes. How did you—"
"Please," Holmes sneered. "Harry engages in high velocity sports in open air in the middle of January in Scotland. What else could it be?"
For a while McGonagall just stared at Holmes, her mouth the thinnest of thin lines. Severus just concentrated on keeping his jaw in place as he stood galvanized at Holmes' sheer disregard.
"…Mr. Holmes," McGonagall bit out, "Your son. Was taken. To the hospital."
Holmes raised an eyebrow, "And?"
"Aren't you worried?!" McGonagall demanded.
"What for?" said Holmes. "Is worrying going to help him any? The treatment has already been administered and success is expected, otherwise you wouldn't be this calm. The main purpose of your visit can't be just to relay this information otherwise Professor Snape wouldn't have accompanied you. Professor Snape has his own purpose for this visit, he wouldn't be present if not, and he could've easily relayed the news for you if that was all. Implication: you can't trust your colleague to do something. You have to do it yourself. So why are you here?"
McGonagall fell into a moment of silent, opened-mouthed outrage. Severus gave into temptation and just let his jaw drop. Of all the things he imagined of Sherlock Holmes, he didn't even hit close to reality.
Before McGonagall could explode, Watson clattered up the stairs and entered the room.
"Hey, Sherlock, what—oh, hello," said Watson, looking Snape, McGonagall, and finally Holmes. "Okay, what's going on?"
Having found a normal person to converse to, McGonagall relayed the latest news regarding Potter. Watson reacted with appropriate level of concern.
"Is he going to be okay?" Watson asked.
"Of course he's going to fine, why else are they here hours after the fact?" Holmes retorted.
Watson gave Holmes a look was that part fond, part exasperated. "It's one of those empathy things, Sherlock."
Holmes paused, and appeared to seriously consider this as if hadn't occurred to him before. "So, not good?" he asked.
"Really not good, yeah," Watson answered.
Holmes was quiet for exactly one second before moving on to Severus. "So what is the your purpose of this visit? You must have a personal stake at hand, since you clearly resent Professor McGonagall's presence."
This time Watson gave the ruinous look spouses gave to husbands when they were being spectacularly stupid/insensitive/embarrassing.
"Let him talk, Sherlock," said Watson, using a tone that booked no protest.
Holmes just rolled his eyes. "Ah, dull."
After the barrage of impertinence of the likes never seen before, Severus found himself applying courtesy to rebalance the universe.
"Three students of my house developed pink blotches on their faces and skin. They are clueless as to how they got it from and refuse to speculate where and when it started. I have tried to remove the pink taint to no avail."
Holmes abruptly sat upright.
"Ah! So that's why you're here!" he said, looking at McGonagall to something akin to approval. "They must have touched Harry's phone without his knowledge. The phone was rigged to spray a chemical reagent of my own invention on any unauthorized persons. The reagent reacts to skin and can't be removed through normal means."
Severus feared as much. "The phone was destroyed."
"The idiots must have actually tried to break into it then. The miniature explosives planted in the phone would have splattered the chemical reagent on everything within a ten foot radius."
That explained the splatter pattern on Draco's face. Severus had initially wondered if a paint bomb exploded on him at close-range.
"You put explosives inside your son's phone?" asked McGonagall incredulously.
"He didn't put it," said Watson, jerking a thumb at Holmes's direction. "It came that way. Hazards of government issued phones."
"…Oh," said McGonagall, taken aback and unsure how to respond to this. "Well, rest assured, the students will be punished appropriately and ordered to replace the phone."
"Good luck on that," Watson muttered. "It was custom made. I don't even know how expensive it is."
"Thirty-five thousand quid," said Holmes promptly.
"Yeah, so that's, what, seven thousand Galleons?" said Watson. "Their parents are going to kill them."
Lucius Malfoy certainly wasn't going to take it without fight, thought Severus. Evidence notwithstanding, there was no way Lucius was going to replace a Muggle devise no matter how expensive without 'legitimate' proof, which of course, would exclude anything Muggle.
Holmes smirked at Severus. "Oh, I should mention, unless I alert the appropriate channels, the British Government will trace the phone back to its last location. You don't want that to happen, now, do you?"
Severus did a bit of nonverbal Legilimens on Holmes to confirm his veiled threat. Immediately he was bowled over by thoughts of the most massive and exacting kind: A middle-aged man wearing a three piece suit and a supercilious smile handing over the phone Potter carried everywhere to Watson, warning about the explosives, the biometrics verification and monitoring; a brief image of Severus's snake cufflinks, indication he was the head of Slytherin, the House of cunning and ambition; the bags under Severus' eyes indicating late night patrolling, stains on his teeth pointing to his coffee drinking habits, fresh stains on his fingers showing he'd handled powdered moonstones and hellebore (draught of peace?); Potter talking about Draco and his bullying attempts; Draco at Madam Malkin's, bragging about his pure-blood status; all of this coagulating together: Snape was trying to give leverage to his House but currently failing in this instance due to McGonagall's presence, Draco a favoured student, the Malfoys a prominent family unwise to be at odds with, and most likely riddled with a sense of superiority because of their long history of magic ability, and Harry's dismissal of Draco culminated in this last act of vandalism, which Draco will not get out of as Holmes was really speaking the truth regarding the phone — if Draco's father had any sense of self-preservation, he would fork over the funds, as wizards are surprisingly foolish and easy to find once one knows what to look for (incongruous clothing, utter ignorance of technology), and with the entire population probably less than an average military regiment, one word to Mycroft and the entire Magical population would find itself compromised for sure…
Severus suppressed his instinctive gasp when he pulled away from Holmes's mind. The sheer magnitude of thoughts that passed through the man's head in the brief seconds was truly staggering—in fact it was physically painful, as if he'd overindulged. Holmes regarded his reaction keenly.
"Interesting," Holmes said, zeroing on Severus. "Oh, that's clever."
Severus carefully wiped his face clean of expression, though he was probably too late. He wondered briefly if Holmes realized he had extracted his thoughts, but refrained from using Legilimency again because now he knew Dumbledore was absolutely right. Holmes was a genius in a class of his own. Messing around with that mind would be the height of foolishness, especially when people in power knew about it. For now he'll just have to assume Holmes at least suspected the existence of mind-reading spells and leave it at that.
"I shall keep that mind when I inform the parents," said Severus formally.
Holmes disregarded that. "You're wasted as a teacher."
Severus raised an eyebrow. It was flattering, certainly, to be acknowledged by a genius, but he was two minds on how to respond.
"…Thank you," Severus said. "Now, Mr. Holmes, do you have a chemical formulae that can remove the stains?"
"Of course," said Holmes.
"You can have it once the kids are hung up to dry," said Watson, flashing a close-mouthed grin.
Snape tipped his metaphorical hat at them. He would've done the same thing.
"Very well. Now about Mr. Watson's phone…"
-oo00oo-
Harry hadn't felt this miserable in years. He had miserable days before — he had nine miserable years living with the Dursleys — but it had been a while since he had a good reason to feel too miserable, so he was caught off guard and out of practice.
First Hermione told him someone destroyed his phone. Malfoy proved to be the culprit when he was caught literally pink-handed thanks to the chemical explosives rigged to detonate if anyone tried to break it. But this and the fact Malfoy got detention and lost fifty points from Slytherin didn't change the fact he didn't have a phone anymore and all the stored data was lost. The last made Harry feel like crying.
Then Madam Pomfrey told him he had to take an indefinite break from Quidditch because of his EIA. Though the Healers in St. Mungo's transfigured Harry's airways back to pre-Asthma conditions, it didn't mean he stopped having the tendency to develop EIA. The only way to prevent it from happening again, Madam Pomfrey told him, was stop putting himself in situations where his airways would swell. This meant no more Quidditch until his freshly transfigured airways got used to the rest of his body and the weather warmed up a bit. Wood was so devastated by the news he started walking around like someone broke his soul in half.
"At least you can still play," Wood said disconsolately after he stopped howling at the injustice of it all. "But only for an hour max. We're playing against Hufflepuff, so maybe we won't need more than an hour to win, but that's assuming you're in good condition by the time we play…"
Wood deteriorated into incoherent mutters. His other team-mates were sympathetic, but without Quidditch practice to unite them, plus their rapidly diminishing chances of winning the Quidditch Cup, talking to them became extremely awkward. Harry felt guilty every time he saw the glum looks on their faces and whenever a passing Slytherin said: "Thanks, Potter, we owe you!"
The third awful news came right at the heels of the first two. Professor McGonagall told Harry he wasn't allowed to have a smart phone anymore because the phone's camera and ability to send picture messages compromised the Statute of Secrecy too much. Harry tried to argue digital photos were no worse than wizard photos—in fact wizard photos were worse — and that he never sent overtly magical photos, but Professor McGonagall stood firm.
"You can still write letters," she said. "Tad slower, perhaps, but it does accomplish the job."
But Harry didn't want to wait for days to receive correspondence or not hearing John's voice for months.
"What about non-smart phones?" Harry asked desperately. "Older phones don't have cameras or videos. I could use that, can't I?"
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips.
"I suppose that's permissible," she said at length. "But you must show me and Professor Burbage your new phone before you are allowed to use it."
Harry sent a quick note to John via Hedwig, who was very eager to deliver the letter, pleading for a phone that could only call and text. The wait was horrible. He felt restless and vulnerable without a phone in his pocket, and his inability to talk to John during his free time felt like a constant stomach ache. And he suddenly had too much of it, free time that is. No wonder Sherlock reacted violently whenever he was bored.
"I'm not used to this," Harry muttered as he waited for Ron to finish copying his star chart.
"Oh, come on, you're not going to die because you don't have a phone for a few days," Hermione scolded. "And weren't you complaining about never finding the time to go to the Charms Club?"
That was true, Harry conceded, but his current misery sapped his desire to do anything. He might've stopped trying to do his homework too if he didn't have Hermione to bully him into working. He supposed he could while away his time playing chess or Exploding Snap or Gobstones or other wizard pastimes, but the lack phone revealed something that left Harry rather hurt and reluctant to spend time with other people.
Harry had been aware some of the older students with Muggle parents were only nice to him because he was famous and had a miraculously working phone. But far more people than he'd expected stopped talking to him once they realized he might not get a replacement phone and couldn't play Quidditch as he used to. It was a terrible feeling, not knowing for sure if someone genuinely liked you or just pretending to be for their own purposes. At least he was sure of Ron and Hermione, who stood by him regardless, and the memory of Ernie, Justin, Hannah, and Terry coming to visit him at the Hospital Wing still warmed his heart.
"True," said Harry, feeling better now that he remembered who his real friends were. "Let's go to the Charms Club tomorrow. We've been talking about that map long enough."
Hermione jumped to her feet. She hadn't looked so excited since they'd got back the marks for their very first piece of homework.
"Stay here!" she said, as she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Harry and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, several enormous books in her arms.
"I found these from the library weeks ago!" she whispered excitedly. "There's a lot books on making architectural blueprints, topography and map-making if you know where to find them!"
Harry stared at the tall stack of books Hermione dropped onto their table. Clearly she'd been itching to start this project for a long time. Then Harry remembered something. He snerked and pulled out a book from his bag.
"Harry!" Ron wailed. "Don't tell me you've started reading textbooks in bed too! That's indecent!"
"I found this over Christmas," said Harry, laughing at Ron's horror. "The title was so funny I had to check it out."
He lifted up the book so Hermione and Ron could read the garish title: Star Wars, A guide to blending Science and Magic for Witches and Wizards.
Hermione burst into giggles.
"Huh?" said Ron blankly, looking from Hermione to Harry.
"Oh my goodness! Where did you find it, Harry?" Hermione said between giggles.
"The Muggle Studies section," said Harry. "There's a bunch of books just like it. There's one on Star Trek, the Matrix and Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Half of the stuff is rubbish, but it does tell you how to create magical holograms."
Hermione was fascinated. Ron, of course, still looked lost at sea.
"What's a hologram?" he asked.
"Let me show you, I worked out the charm last week," Harry drew his wand and muttered the incantation. Ron and Hermione let out a gasp when a ghostly 3D image of their faces sprung out of his wand tip.
"That's amazing!" exclaimed Hermione. Then she snatched the book away from Harry and started to read furiously.
"I thought we could use this charm for the map," Harry said, grinning, as Ron made funny faces to his holographic self. "We just have to figure out how to put the charm on a parchment or something."
"Sure beats drawing it by hand," said Ron, grinning back. "Wait till I show this to Fred and George…!"
-oo00oo-
The next month was the happiest Hermione had been. It was as if all her wishes had come true.
John and Sherlock wrote back within a week. The note said it was going to take a month until they could get the replacement phone ready for a magical environment. Apparently there was a direct correlation between how long John possessed a phone and the phone's ability to cope with stray magic in the air, a month being the minimum for a place like Hogwarts. Harry was very disappointed.
"I bet you a million Sherlock tested every angle," he confided to Hermione. "How long you have to keep it, which model works with magic faster, if you have to keep it always or just using it normally is fine, and if engraving makes any difference."
"I'm surprised he could enter Diagon Alley. I mean, that's where he must've tested everything, right?" said Hermione.
Harry's wry smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Oh, he would've found a way… if he didn't get himself banned afterwards."
Thus left without Quidditch consume to his evenings or his phone to distract him, Harry directed their collective attention to the Charms Club and making a map of Hogwarts.
The Charms Club was wonderful. Members were allowed to experiment as much as they wanted as long as an upperclassman monitor or Professor Flitwick was there to supervise. Professor Flitwick taught them how to embed charms on objects so they could project holograms off of them. They first practiced the Holography Charm on different things, like their wristwatches, parchment, a hand mirror, the sharp end of their quills, and the tip Professor Flitwick's pointed hat, on one memorable occasion. Then they started making holograms of various objects. Solid immobile objects were the easiest, which made map-making very simple. All they had to do was enchant their practice maps— small squares of parchment, folded twice, for now—when the halls were empty.
"This is just like Star Wars!" Harry said excitedly as a 50:1 scale holographic image of the third floor corridor materialized in mid-air when he unfolded his map.
"You'll tell me what Star Wars is before I die, right?" said Ron as he admired the image too.
"It's a Muggle film," said Harry. "Come over this summer and we can all watch it together."
From there they moved onto enchanting the parchment squares so it could switch between the different stored images, change the POV, and make labels appear on the images. This required them to learn how to make different charms work together, a delicate operation Harry picked up very quickly.
"Wouldn't it be great if homework was this fun?" Ron said gleefully as he made the words 'FOOD!' flash on top of the holographic image of the painting that served as an entrance to the kitchens.
"I'd certainly pay more attention if I knew why I need to know how to make a pineapple dance across a table," said Harry as he made the map zoom in and out. "Let's try stacking the floor plans on top of each other this time."
"I know just the thing!" Hermione said eagerly.
Ron and Harry whooped and cheered when she made the image of ground floor appear on top of the image of the underground floor. As she watched the boys try it themselves, Hermione couldn't help but think how unthinkable the current situation was two months ago, and how much she desperately wished it would continue.
As far she could remember, Hermione wanted a friend with whom she could be as brainy as she wished. Hermione had hoped Harry would be that friend ever since he cast that very successful shrinking charm in the train and later turned his match into a needle in their first transfiguration class, the only one to do so. Unfortunately, Harry proved reluctant to talk about classes and homework for extracurricular purposes, leaving Hermione terribly disappointed. Then she overhead him discussing magic with Sherlock over the phone and felt betrayed. So Harry did like discussing magic! She had thought. He just didn't want to talk to her! He was just like everyone else!
For by the time flying lessons started, all the other girls had paired off, leaving Hermione the odd one out. Not that it excused her behaviour, but Hermione had reacted mostly because she wanted Harry to notice she was as lonely as poor Neville, whom he clearly cared enough to check if he was back in the tower and made sure he was included when the first year boys played Muggle ball games. Really, when Harry didn't tell her what he was up to when she stayed up late in the common room because she was worried about him, it was adding insult to injury. Then he didn't even ask if there was anything wrong when she stopped calling her parents. Ron calling her a nightmare no one could stand, after a month of unbroken silence, was the final straw that broke the flood gates.
The misery of the thought she was destined for seven years of loneliness was what drove Hermione to the girl's toilet, crying. That no one came to check—never mind she said she wanted to be left alone—had made her even more miserable. Then the troll came in, and all Hermione could think was: 'This is just not FAIR!' before succumbing to mindless terror.
Who would have thought Ron and Harry of all people would think of her after all that? Who would've guessed they would end up as friends afterwards? Or that they would play with magic as they were now? It was all so marvellous.
But it wasn't going to last, Hermione thought sadly. They would soon finish making the map. Harry would get his new phone and go back playing Quidditch. Then they would return to the days where she and Ron spent their time doing normal things while they waited for Harry to come back. Not that she hadn't been happy back then, but this past month had been bliss.
"Okay, now all we have to do is figure out how to make the map show your current location and give you directions!" said Harry.
"Yeah, that'll only take us another five years," said Ron, only half-jokingly.
"Or another five days," said Hermione, breaking out of her internal musings. "Professor Flitwick said he'd teach us how to do the path finder spell. It's adding it on top of all charms we've put so far that's going to be tricky."
"Can't be as bad as storing multiple holograms," said Harry. Then he looked up. "Oh, Hedwig!"
Hermione felt her heart sink a little when the snowy owl dropped a small package into Harry's lap. Harry thanked Hedwig first before eagerly tearing open the package. As expected, it contained a mobile phone—one of those old flip phones from years gone by. Stuck on the phone was a sticky note:
You should have all the necessary
data to find the culprit. Don't talk
to me until you figure it out.
HINT: put yourself in the thief's position
SH
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: Snape finally meets Sherlock. (I've wanted to write that scene for ages!) McGonagall wasn't going to be there, originally, but then Malfoy decided to break Harry's phone, so she wouldn't cooperate. The conclusion of year one draws near. But when will I have time to write it, I wonder?