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. The story was planned and written before season 2 (but incorporating elements of thereof as much as possible). Readers beware!
Chapter Thirty Seven: The Glitch
Without a doubt, the interview process screening the applicants for the first advertised position in the Magical Mobile Network was one of the most singular events Remus had experienced for some time.
Remus had heard about the advertisement for help through the staffroom grapevine. He didn't think much of it beyond wishing Jacqueline the best of luck as she was going to need a lot of it. Flitwick and McGonagall were hinting heavily that she would need an escort lest another reporter have the gall to try and force an interview again, and Burbage and Sprout were looking at him rather pointedly as they spoke. Remus had a feeling he made a narrow escape when Hagrid told the teachers Jacqueline asked if he could act as escort for she was afraid to go by herself.
Then for reasons Remus wasn't sure he wanted to know, Hagrid asked Remus if he could come along too—looking very shifty and furtive as he did so. He agreed since he owed Jacqueline a lot of help. He realized Hagrid had taken the liberty of asking his help without consulting Jacqueline first when her face formed a puzzled look when she noticed him trotting after the gamekeeper, which turned into a little frown when Hagrid tried (and failed) to make excuses. Then she shrugged and the three of them headed to Hogsmeade.
Remus hoped to never see such a sight as that again. From north, south, east, and west every witch and wizard who was of age had tramped into Hogsmeade to answer the advertisement or so it seemed. The streets outside the Three Broomsticks were chocked with witches and wizards, and if they formed a queue, it would've wrapped around both the pub and the neighbouring establishments four times. Remus wouldn't have even dreamed so many people could be brought together by a single advertisement. Many of them were talking animatedly amongst each other as they fidgeted their best robes, more were arguing their merits, and some were poring over their old Muggle Studies textbooks for last minute prep. When she saw how many were waiting, Jacqueline let out a tiny noise of despair. Nevertheless she squared her shoulders and held up the magical megaphone to her lips.
"May I have your attention, please?"
The crowd turned to look at Jacqueline. Several of them started at the sight of her. She certainly didn't look like someone who created the most significant invention of the decade, or so sayeth the Prophet. Clad in a black ribbed turtleneck shirt, dark charcoal slacks, black boots and a jet-black wool coat, she looked more like a Muggle woman plumbing the depths of deep mourning than anyone remotely magical.
"Hello, everyone; thank you so much for turning up despite the cold weather," said Jacqueline in a clear voice. "As you may have gathered, my name is Jacqueline Shin. I shall begin the interview process shortly, starting with the Muggle knowledge test. Mr. Hagrid here will set up the booths where you will be asked to answer five questions. The test will be administered on first-come-first-serve basis. You will have two minutes to complete the test. Please keep in mind I am not looking for the number of questions you get correctly, but how you approach the questions. Those who show promise will continue on the second round of interviews. Do you have any questions?"
Someone raised their hand up. "What if we finish the test in less than a minute?"
"That would be noted in the marking, that much I can tell you."
"Does it matter if we tell others about the test?" someone else asked.
Jacqueline smiled crookedly. "I will let you decide whether it is beneficial for you to spread that knowledge to others when I am only selecting one person today."
A murmur spread throughout the crowd. Once she confirmed there were no more questions, Jacqueline walked closely behind Hagrid as he entered the Three Broomsticks, shoving the crowd back easily with his bulk. Remus followed closely after both of them.
The first thing he noticed was that the pub was clear of customers and the customary tables and chairs.
"Thank you, Rosmerta," said Jacqueline to the pretty and curvy woman who brought fond memories of Remus' teenage years. "I'll try to finish this as soon as possible."
"Oh, take your time," said Madam Rosmerta, beaming. "I had very brisk business with your applicants while they were waiting. I dare say they'll stay afterwards for a pint!"
For consolation if nothing else, Remus didn't say as Jacqueline smiled crookedly again.
Hagrid and Remus quickly raised up four screened booths similar to the ones in the Music Chamber. Jacqueline pulled out four sets of rickety desks and chairs from her shoulder bag, and Remus set them up inside the booths. While he was at it, Hagrid pulled out a pearly-white windmill from the shoulder bag and set it on its feet.
"Is that…?" said Madam Rosmerta, pointing at the windmill.
Jacqueline looked at her. "What do you think it is?"
"I heard a rumour that Hogwarts now can make Muggle artefacts work," admitted Madam Rosmerta.
"Did you tell everyone in the pub, Hagrid?" asked Jacqueline wearily.
"Did you really make it?" whispered Madam Rosmerta. "I thought Muggle things didn't work around Magic."
"Professor Dumbledore discovered a way to work around it," demurred Jacqueline, "I just applied the principle to this generator. Now then…"
Jacqueline pulled out the last five pieces of equipment from the bag: four rectangular objects bearing the shape of a textbook of varying sizes and thickness with a long cord attached to one of the four thinner sides, and something Jacqueline called an extension cord. Three of the cords she connected to the extension cord, which in turn was connected to the windmill's outlet.
"Okay, all set," said Jacqueline, "Remus, could you bring them in four at a time?"
Remus nodded and stuck his head outside the door.
"We're ready! Please form a queue!"
There was a noisy scuffle as the witches and wizards fought to get to the front of the queue. Remus heard Jacqueline order a round of hot butterbeer to serve to the applicants waiting outside. Madam Rosmerta was more than happy to go outside with a tray.
The first set of four applicants entered the pub—along with a dozen or so others who pushed themselves inside. The people outside plastered themselves against the windows to watch the proceedings. Jacqueline drew in a deep breath, multiplied herself to four and personally guided the gaping and squawking applicants to the booths.
The test proceeded quickly. The majority of applicants left their booth shortly after the allotted two minutes looking ashen and dejected. The question they raised spread panic among the untested applicants: "Did you have any idea what the questions were asking?"
About half-way through, unable to help himself, Remus peered into one of the booths to see what was going on.
A wizard in scarlet robes was circling around a black rectangular artefact, poking at it with his wand and muttering under his breath. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead as he shot panicked glances at Jacqueline, who watched him with a clipboard in the one hand, a pen in the other, and a sombre expression on her face. A few seconds later the timer dinged, and the wizard shuffled out of the booth with his head bowed and shoulders slumped.
Remus checked the other booths. The witch inside the second booth was crouching on the floor, bending the black cord connecting the mysterious artefact to the extension cord between her hands with a baffled expression on her face. The witch in the neighbouring booth exclaimed in triumph after discovering the artefact was made of two connecting pieces and could be opened like a book. The wizard inside the fourth booth merely stared at the black artefact like he was expecting it to leap off the desk and bite him.
The crowd quickly thinned out as time passed. Some of the applicants, unable to handle the escalating tension and growing number of apparent failures, left before they could take the test, while a good number of the tested applicants left without bothering to find out how they fared. A half a dozen stayed wearing smug looks, as though they knew something the others didn't.
Soon there were only three untested applicants. Remus noticed a wizard who, unlike the others, was dressed like a Muggle; instead of robes and a cloak, he was wearing a purple pinstripe suit jacket, similarly pinstriped trousers of a different tone of purple, a green overcoat, and orange accented trainers. Remus thought donning Muggle clothing for a Muggle knowledge exam was a rather nice touch, but when Jacqueline looked at him, her right eye twitched.
"Your name, please?" she asked.
"Robert," said the wizard, blinking slowly. "Robert … Dong."
Jacqueline scribbled that down. "The sheet on the desk has all five questions. Please tell me when you're ready."
"I'm ready," said Robert, staring at the desk.
Jacqueline set the timer. "Go."
Robert sat at the desk and scanned the questions. He frowned for a moment, looked at Jacqueline questioningly, and then returned his glance to the desk. He then flipped the upper half of the artefact up and looked around the sides of the lower half. He pressed a button on the side, which glowed green momentarily. The black screen on the propped up part of the artefact showed a picture of a rectangle with a cap on the right that was crossed through diagonally. Robert checked the back of the artefact where the long cord was attached. Then he looked up at Jacqueline.
"Is the windmill the power source?"
"Yes," said Jacqueline, smiling.
"May I leave the booth?"
"Sure."
Robert left the booth. He connected the cord attached to the artefact to the extension cord and then returned to the booth. He pressed the side button again, and this time the screen changed to show a picture that had four different coloured panels arranged to form a wavy-sort of square and the words 'Windows 7' written underneath it. After a few seconds, the screen changed to show a frozen photograph of a grassy hill under a blue sky. Robert ran his finger on the small square area on the artefact's lower piece, which had many buttons bearing different alphanumerical character labels. Suddenly a white box appeared on the screen on top of the scenery photograph. Robert laboriously pecked on the labelled buttons using two fingers and the corresponding letters appeared inside the narrow bar inside the white box. The white box showed a new picture that bore the word 'Google' after he pressed a button on the right.
"Time's up," said Jacqueline as Robert started pecking buttons again. "Please wait outside, I'll get back shortly."
Robert left the booth again after a short bow. Once he left the premises, Jacqueline stepped over to the window, and shouted through the megaphone that the tests were over and called out the names of the people she selected for the second round of interviews. A groan of disappointment came from outside, and everyone trooped away in different directions, until there was not a person in sight except the six wizards and witches whose names were called out, which unsurprisingly included Robert.
"I'll be meeting everyone one at a time," said Jacqueline. "I don't know how long each interview will last, so please be patient and enjoy the refreshments Rosmerta will provide for you. Remus, Hagrid, if you can please…?"
Remus helped Jacqueline move the screens to a corner to create a private nook in the pub area. Hagrid put down the windmill and shoved it and all the other equipment back into the shoulder bag. The six interviewees waited whilst displaying varying degrees of twitchiness as they did so.
At last they were ready for the interviews. Remus and Hagrid squeezed themselves inside the newly created booth per Jacqueline's request.
Jacqueline asked fairly generic interview questions, like what were their strengths and weakness and what they had to offer for the position. Four of them mentioned the number of OWLs and NEWTs they had achieved, two of them reiterated their Muggle technology competency, and one went on at length how he was willing to leave a very lucrative position at Gringotts Bank for the opportunity to work for the greatest magical innovation of the century. Jacqueline nodded politely as she noted all of their past accomplishments and calmly deflected the persistent question of how much they would work on the network by replying they will know should they get hired. After dismissing the Gringotts Bank employee, she called in the last candidate:
"Robert Dong."
Robert stepped inside the booth. There was a bit of butterbeer froth stuck on the corner of his mouth.
"Please take a seat," said Jacqueline formally. "You're American?"
"Yes," said Robert, sitting down and rather belatedly wiping the foam away. "Will that be a problem?"
"As long as you are affiliated with the International Confederation of Wizards, you are fine."
"I'm okay, I think," Robert said, scratching his neck. "I graduated from Salem Institute of Magic."
Jacqueline smiled as she noted that. "So tell me about your strengths and weaknesses."
"Well, there are a lot of ways to answer that question," Robert replied. "But can you first tell me more about the position and what kind of candidate you are looking for? That way I can give you the relevant details."
Remus started to pay more attention; Robert was the first interviewee who asked about the position itself.
"I'm looking for a customer service representative," said Jacqueline. "The primary duty is answering any customer inquiries related to the Magical Mobile phones and resolve any issues they raise. Secondary duties include account checkups and monitoring incoming Owls. I'm looking for a candidate who can fulfil these duties, is calm under pressure, can work with young students, is able and willing to learn, and competent in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Technology."
"Why those two areas?"
"My customers are known to send creative curses besides the usual Howlers when they Owl their complaints. I also use computers for my business operations."
Robert nodded as he scribbled it down on a tiny spring notepad that bore the brand CVS.
Jacqueline twinkled. "So what strengths can you bring to this position, Robert?" she asked.
Robert told her about his previous work experiences in the States. He'd worked primarily in Health Care, thus he had a lot experience in dealing with people who were cranky, miserable and angry (and in pain) and often unable to properly articulate why they were so. He also had a lot experience dealing with Owls bearing complaints, as witch and wizard patients, unlike their Muggle counterparts, didn't have the option of suing clinics/hospitals for malpractice thus had to take matters in their own hands (preferably not with .44 magnum rifles, whatever that was). Jacqueline chuckled when Robert told her during his earlier days as an apprentice he felt more like a bomb technician than a wizard. He'd also done rounds in paediatrics and had volunteered for youth-oriented non-profit organizations such as 'Little Lights' and 'Covenant House', thus knew what to expect when working with kids.
"What made you consider a career change?" Jacqueline asked.
Robert sighed. "I know I'm meant for service-oriented jobs, but after working sixteen years in the medical field, I've started to wonder if I would be more effective elsewhere."
"How do you know you're meant for service-oriented jobs?"
"I derive my great joy when I help someone," said Robert wryly. "My greatest difficulty is saying no when I can see a venue in which I can provide help. I've learned to set clear boundaries and never cross them to overcome this tendency."
"Would say your service-oriented personality is both your greatest strength and greatest weakness?"
"Yes."
Jacqueline made a thoughtful noise. "What will you do if you discover Customer Service is not right for you?"
"I will first discuss the matter with my manager, and if no alternative arrangements can be found, I will remain until my replacement is properly trained to handle the vacancy." Robert paused. "I should mention I don't make changes lightly and I believe suffering produces character."
Jacqueline smiled.
The interview moved onto the subject of salaries and relocation. The figure Jacqueline offered as a baseline made Remus wonder if he should apply for the position if his teaching career didn't pan out and Robert told her he had already settled in Hogsmeade and would have no trouble commuting to Dervish and Banges where he'd do most of his customer-facing work—should he be hired.
"Do you have any questions for me?" asked Jacqueline.
"What is the dress code?" asked Robert.
"Business-causal for customer facing duties; casual otherwise."
"How would you define Business-causal?"
"When in doubt, stick to boots and robes. Any other questions?"
"Just one: Did I get the job?" asked Robert, beaming lopsidedly.
"I can't tell you that," said Jacqueline serenely. "If that is all, then thank you, Robert. You were very informative."
They shook hands. Jacqueline dismissed all the straggling candidates after telling them she'd Owl them her decision by this evening.
"So what do you think?" she asked Remus and Hagrid as they sat at the bar while the usual customers started to fill the Three Broomsticks.
"I like Robert," said Hagrid immediately.
"He sounded the most suitable and competent," Remus agreed.
"He does bring the most relevant experience and I like his work ethic," said Jacqueline pensively.
"I'm sensing a 'but' here," Remus probed.
Jacqueline crunched her face.
"Maybe it's because he's American, but I can't tell if he's Muggle-born, Muggle-raised, or a Magic-raised wizard who happens to know a lot about Muggles," she said. "He kept mixing Muggle terms and Wizard terms when he spoke. And did you notice he never mentioned what exactly he did in the medical field?"
Remus hadn't. "Now that you mention it…"
"Plus, who in their right mind mix and matches suits and wears accented basketball shoes to a job interview?" Jacqueline went on, scowling. "Stripes and more stripes and then even more stripes … good heavens, doesn't he realise stripes upon stripes doesn't count as matching when each set of stripes are completely and totally different from one another, especially suits?"
Remus and Hagrid stared. It was the first time they'd seen Jacqueline noticeably bothered by something, especially over something trivial.
"Is that wha' bothered yeh the most? His clothes?" asked Hagrid incredulously.
"It's my pet-peeve," said Jacqueline with feeling. Then she deflated. "I know. It's very shallow. I just … okay. His highly questionable fashion sense aside, Robert is the most suitable for the job, agreed?"
"Agreed," said Remus and Hagrid.
"Okay," Jacqueline stood up. "I'm heading back. Are you two going to stay longer? Yes? Alright then, Bye."
"Oh, Jack…!" Hagrid was starting to say.
But he was too late. Jacqueline already vanished inside the teeming crowd.
-oo00oo-
Hundreds of miles away from Hogsmeade, Detective Inspector Lestrade had arrived at 221B Baker Street to pick up Sherlock and John prior to heading to King's Cross to pick up their kids, who were returning home for Christmas. Sherlock gave Lestrade the customary once-over and sniffed haughtily.
"So you've finally reached a resolution to your Magic-identity crisis. Good. It was getting tedious."
"Well good morning to you too," Lestrade snapped.
"Morning. How do you figure, Sherlock?" said John.
"Lestrade always carries himself in pseudo-military fashion when he's about his face his father-in-law. For what reason would he visit his father-in-law? Not to drop off his children, the timing is ludicrous. Could be for holiday preparations, but not when he's about to pick up his daughter, unless she would derive some benefit from the visit. The only option that covers both venues is the thorny issue of Lestrade's magic."
Lestrade rolled his eyes, "All that just from my Tell, yeah?"
"So you're embracing your inner-wizard?" asked John.
"Who said anything about wizards?" Lestrade growled. "Just because I have magic doesn't mean I have to go to the deep end."
"Oh, I see, your FIL has magic, but no one would call him a wizard, not in the fullest sense, and you'd rather do without the robes and wands," said John, nodding.
"I like his style and way of life better," Lestrade agreed.
"Pointless fine distinctions," Sherlock scorned.
"Oh, shut up," John and Lestrade retorted.
On their way to King's Cross, the three of them talked about Sirius Black (as usual).
"Harry mentioned a rather interesting glitch in the Marauder's Map," said Sherlock as he wriggled in his seat. "He didn't think much about it until he replicated the glitch without meaning to as he was updating his map. Your daughter rightfully pointed out if the so-called glitch is replicable, it means the glitch is not a mistake limited to the Marauder's map and must have a deeper, underlying cause."
"What kind of glitch is it?"
"The Weasley twins called it the Pettigrew Glitch," said John. "Ever since they'd found the map, they noticed a dot labelled 'Peter Pettigrew' would sometimes show up. But when they check the room he's supposed to be in, there's no one by that name."
"Not even a ghost?"
"The Hogwarts ghosts insist Peter Pettigrew isn't one."
"What's the big deal?"
"According to your father-in-law, Peter Pettigrew was the wizard who tracked down Sirius Black after LV's fall and got blown up for his troubles twelve years ago."
"So?"
"If the Peter Pettigrew two enchanted maps insist he exists and yet the Hogwarts Ghosts declare is not among the lingering dead is the same Peter Pettigrew who tracked down Sirius Black, then the report of Pettigrew's death may have been highly exaggerated."
Lestrade almost crashed his car into a lorry.
He only started shouting after he semi-illegally parked his car next to a strip of pavement.
"ALRIGHT, YOU PRATS: YOU TWO ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DROP BOMBSHELLS LIKE THAT ON ME WHILE I'M DRIVING, AM I CLEAR!?"
"Crystal," said John.
"Dull," Sherlock huffed.
Lestrade huffed back.
"Fine. I hereby uninvite you to my family dinner. Did I mention the Minister of Magic is stopping by for port?"
What happened inside Lestrade's car after this is better left unsaid. Suffice to say, Harry and Julia had no idea what happened when they arrived at platform 9 and ¾, but they did note Lestrade was calling John cutie-pie, John referred to Sherlock as Snookums, and Sherlock christened Lestrade 'darling-wizard' and John 'my dear, Hailey'.
"Are you okay about being a wizard, now?" Julia asked her father with trepidation after Sherlock used his new endearment for Lestrade.
"I'm good," said Lestrade, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in an assuring way. "Don't think I'll start wearing robes, though. Not enough money in Gringotts."
Julia giggled as she clung to his midriff. "Grandpa doesn't like robes either. He thinks they're stupid."
Lestrade grinned. "I always knew he was a very wise man."
The seating arrangements changed once Julia and Harry entered the picture. Julia claimed the front passenger seat, citing Lestrade's declaration that the seat was hers. After folding Sherlock into the back, John asked the kids about their term.
Harry had a lot to say about his new classes, particularly Care of Magical Creatures. Apparently the volatile combination of Hagrid— whose idea of 'Interesting Creatures' composed of 'Horrible Monsters' such as three-headed dogs, dragons and six feet tall spiders— and Professor Kettleburn— who amassed sixty-two periods of probation during his teaching career at Hogwarts and was forced to take life at a quieter pace with only one and a half of his original limbs remaining to him— spawned some very interesting lesson plans. Harry's class had already travelled the Forbidden Forest twice, and they were yet to study a creature that had a Ministry of Magic rating below XXX. The only lesson no one got injured in was the enjoyable one involving Salamanders. Harry and Hermione had taken to charming long-sleeved shirts for themselves and their friends for Care of Magical Creatures class. The shirt's magical armouring and shielding properties allowed them to deflect heavy blows from Hippogriffs and other such beasts with nothing but a noisy 'Clang' to note the incident.
"…Don't take that class next year, sweetheart," Lestrade concluded when Harry finished speaking.
"But they got to see unicorns in the forest," Julia protested.
"Sunshine—"
"Unicorns!"
Lestrade slumped. "Is that armouring spell easy to learn?"
"It's not that bad," said Harry. "Once we figure out how to make it longer-lasting, Ron's going to start selling the shirts."
Julia reported she finally caught up to her classmates in Charms and Transfigurations, though she wasn't convinced she could make a pineapple dance across a table more than seven out of ten times. Harry noted he stopped getting bottom points for Potions, but he was not optimistic he would see the same kind of improvement in his Study of Ancient Runes class, which turned out to be a terrible mistake. Try as Harry might, he still remained at the 'staring-blankly' stage of the translation ability scale.
"What about Muggle Studies?" John asked.
"It's really easy and boring unless Miss Jackie teaches it," Harry groaned. "Burbage spends half of the lecture going on and on why the only difference between a Witch and a Muggle is magic, as if we don't know that already."
"Some lessons are worth repeating. What about Jack?"
"Miss Jackie does science experiments. Like, last month she did a silver tarnish removal comparison."
"Come again?" Lestrade asked, confused, while Sherlock's eyes gleamed.
"She was explaining chemistry and showed us why Muggles might find better solutions because of it," Harry said. "Silver tarnish removal was one example. Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover did a little better than regular silver polish and it took the same amount of time and effort. But when she lined a pot with aluminium foil, filled it with boiling water, dumped a tablespoon of baking soda and a teaspoon of salt into the water and then put silverware on top of the foil, the silverware came out completely tarnish free in a few minutes. It was awesome."
"Basic chemistry," said Sherlock, nodding. "Silver tarnish is silver sulphide. Many metals in addition to silver form compounds with sulphur. Some of them have a greater affinity for sulphur than silver does. Aluminium is such a metal. The silver sulphide reacts with aluminium in the charged solution of salt and sodium bicarbonate. Thus the sulphur atoms transfer from silver to aluminium, freeing the silver metal and forming aluminium sulphide."
Harry eyes went slightly glazed. "I think she said something like that. Anyway, it was cool."
The talk shifted to the Magic Mobile Network and Jack's constant uphill battle to find suitable employees. At which point Sherlock got bored of the gossip and told them to shut up, he needed to think. Lestrade retaliated by loudly announcing to Julia that she was going to a have a new baby brother, Joseph/Simon/Eli.
"When?" Julia squealed.
"Next year around August or September," said Lestrade.
"You're breeding like rabbits," Sherlock spat.
"Yes, thank you."
Lestrade and Julia continued to talk animatedly about baby Micah/Lucas/Vincent. They therefore weren't paying attention to the backseat passengers when Harry directed at John a hopeful-cum-inquiring look, which quickly vanished when John shook her head sadly.
"If you can turn your puny little minds to the more important issue at hand," Sherlock hissed between his teeth. "It's imperative we gain more information on Black. Lestrade, is the Minister of Magic's attendance an absolute yes?"
"More or less," said Lestrade, glancing back. "But how are you going to invite yourself to a magic discussion? I can't even bring Ellen because she's Muggle."
Sherlock placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"You forget who my son is."
-oo00oo-
"Is this really necessary?" Harry complained as John tamed his hair with a comb and liberal amounts of product.
John nodded. "Just imagine we're going undercover."
Harry pulled a face as he inspected himself in front of the mirror. He didn't recognise himself. His hair was slicked back, his cobalt-blue jumper was made of cashmere, the trousers were black and tailored to fit, and the pale azure shirt he wore underneath his jumper was so outrageously expensive, he felt phantom hives just thinking about it. After sticking his tongue at his reflection and highly polished shoes, Harry turned to Sherlock and John.
Sherlock looked no different than usual, wearing a black Bespoke suit sans tie, though Harry did note he'd chosen the purple shirt that had a curious effect on women above the age of twelve. John caused the most perturbation; his reaction to seeing John in disguise back when he was a first year didn't hold a candle against that of seeing the very elegant … person … John transformed into after doing something to her hair and face and wearing a beautifully cut indigo dress with a deep V-neckline, pretty black heels and diamond white gold jewellry.
"Ready?" John asked to Sherlock and Harry after they all wore their winter coats.
"Ready," said Harry apprehensively.
"Yes," said Sherlock, nodding.
They took a cab to Mr. Shin's house. The cabbie asked them if they were going to a fancy gala. Mr. Lestrade opened the door for them when they rang the bell. He took one look at John and blurted: "Who the hell are you?"
"His wife," said John, pointing at Sherlock. "Now let us in, it's freezing out here."
Mr. Lestrade stepped aside, staring bug-eyed and gaping.
For one stupid second, Harry thought he'd entered the wrong house. The small, tiled entryway was gone and instead of the plain hardwood floor that was a step above it, a large and luxurious parlour furnished with fine cherry wood framed glass cabinets, tables and chairs with white Victorian-style upholstery was just beyond the foyer. Harry was certain the house was not three-stories tall, but the crystal chandelier on the ceiling had to be at least that high above. A ten foot Christmas tree stood proud and tall in the living room, and one could barely see the needle leaves under the fairy lights, white and silver ribbons, crystal chains and other such decorations.
"Looks like Jeremy had fun," John said, looking around.
"That's one way of putting it," Mr. Lestrade grumbled, looking deeply uncomfortable in his grey suit.
"Interesting," Sherlock muttered. "The walls were extended upwards and the entire floor was rotated 180 degrees without changing the outside structure. Obvious. But how was this done…?"
Mr. Shin entered the parlour from a different entrance a few minutes later. Mr. Shin was always a dapper dresser, but he looked more so today in his navy three-piece suit, black tie, starched white shirt and gold pocket watch attached to a gold chain. Perhaps it was Harry's imagination, but Mr. Shin looked taller.
"I wish you asked someone who is more adapt at this sort of thing," Mr. Shin grumbled. "Do not be surprised if I make a complete debacle out of it."
"You'll be fine, Dad," said Mr. Jason, poking his head out from the kitchen. He had exchanged his raggy T-shirt, cargos and stained black apron for a white chef's coat and hat and long black trousers in deference to the occasion.
"Yeah, just act like you normally act and Fudge will be too scared to say no," said Mr. Jeremy cheekily. He looked like a waiter for some upscale restaurant, wearing a black bowtie, waistcoat, trousers and long white apron.
Mr. Shin glowered at them.
Miss Jackie and Julia joined them in the living room a few moments later, both in white lacy dresses. Harry thought Julia looked loads prettier with her hair down and no glasses obscuring her eyes. Miss Jackie declared John and Sherlock looked like a Royal couple, and chided John for committing egregious crimes against fashion on a daily basis when more than capable of not committing them in the first place.
Exactly five minutes after six, a portly man in a lime-green bowler hat and a pinstriped cloak appeared inside the private parlour behind the only hinged door in the living room. Everyone crowded around the two-way mirror that was disguised to look like a window from the living room's POV, and a decorative mirror from the private parlour.
"Science, got to love it," muttered John as they watched the man sit down heavily in an armchair.
"Red currant rum, minister?" said Mr. Shin as he headed towards the spirit cabinet.
"That would be lovely, thank you," said Fudge. "And so kind of you for inviting me over to your home, I must say."
Mr. Shin hummed as he filled a glass tumbler with a clear reddish-amber liquid. He gave the tumbler to Fudge, who took a long appreciative drink.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" asked Fudge after letting out a contented sigh.
"Sirius Black," said Mr. Shin. "Do you still think he's in the Hogwarts area?"
Harry felt John and Miss Jackie cringe at his brusque tone.
"I'm sure of it," said Fudge shortly.
"You know that the Dementors have searched the whole village twice? The complaints from the residents are rising. And my daughter tells me the number of students suffering night terrors is increasing daily. The situation will only exacerbate the longer they stay."
"Shin, I don't like them any more than you," said Fudge uncomfortably. "But it's necessary precaution. Unfortunate, but there you are. I've just met with some of them. They're in a fury against Dumbledore — he won't let them inside the castle grounds."
"I should think not," said Mr. Shin sharply. "How are the teachers supposed to teach and the students learn with those horrors floating around?"
"Bravo, Appa," whispered Miss Jackie as Fudge shrivelled under Mr. Shin's hard gaze.
"All the same," demurred Fudge, "they are there to protect them from something much worse. We all know what Black's capable of…"
Mr. Shin planted both of his lands on his armchair's rests. It was small gesture, done slowly, but somehow he made it look impressive, like the act of a King.
"I'm not convinced I know the worst Black is capable of," said Mr. Shin.
"Well, the worst he did is certainly not well known," said Fudge gruffly.
"You speak of his betrayal of the Potters and allegiance to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"There's more to the story than that," said Fudge in a low rumble. "James Potter trusted Sirius Black beyond all his other friends. They were inseparable during their student years. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry. Harry has no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment him."
Mr. Shin nodded curtly as his expression turned stonier still. On the other side of the wall, the younger Shins and the Lestrades were looking down awkwardly.
John wrapped an arm around Harry.
"Are you sure you want to listen to this?" John asked.
Harry nodded. He was prepared to listen. It was just … having a name and face to suspected facts. And more details. Which were probably wrong, considering the new set of facts he'd accidentally discovered…
"Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them," Fudge continued once Mr. Shin softened his expression. "Dumbledore, who was of course working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn't an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm."
"What is that?" asked Sherlock sharply.
"An immensely complex spell," said Mr. Jeremy in a very low voice. "It's the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. Information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find—unless the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. So if you keep the location of the Potters' safe-house a secret protected by Fidelius, You-Know-Who would never find them as long as the Secret-Keeper keeps quiet, even if he presses his face against their sitting room window."
"I know the rest of the story," said Mr. Shin, raising a hand. "Black presumably was selected as Secret Keeper. Whether Dumbledore suspected Black was the mole in our side doesn't matter at this point; the Potters were discovered despite the Fidelius. You-Know-Who was unexpectedly vanquished by Harry Potter. Black was cornered shortly afterwards by Peter Pettigrew, another close friend of James Potter."
"Exactly," said Fudge. "Eyewitnesses— Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later—told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, 'Lily and James, Sirius! How could you?' And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens…"
"You were the junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time. Did you see the aftermath?"
"I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I— I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him… a heap of bloodstained robes and a few—a few fragments—"
Fudge stopped abruptly and blew his nose into a lime-green hanky.
"Well, there you have it, Shin," said Fudge thickly. "Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class. The only remains of Pettigrew we could scavenge from the mess was sent to his poor mother: his finger. I think his hero's death and having something to bury brought some comfort. Black's been in Azkaban ever since."
Mr. Shin let out a long sigh.
"That answers some of the questions I had. Thank you, minister. Now if you are not so busy, would you join me and my family for dinner?"
"Well, thank you very much. But I really can't stay. I'm supposed to dine with Dumbledore this evening."
"I see. But at the very least, I would like them to say hello to you. Harry Potter might drop by shortly to join us, and I'm sure—"
"Harry Potter?"
"My son-in-law is friends with both of his adoptive parents, and my daughter Jacqueline is close friends with Harry's adoptive mother."
"Is that so? Well, I suppose I could stay around a bit longer before I head to Hogwarts…"
Everyone sprang to their feet as Fudge started to collect his bowler hat and cloak.
"Christmas tree!" Mr. Jeremy hissed as he pointed at it. "Sit around and look pretty!"
Mr. Lestrade bodily moved both Julia and Miss Jackie to the Christmas tree while John, Sherlock and Harry dashed towards the same direction. Mr. Jason and Mr. Jeremy quickly vanished inside the kitchen, brightened the living room and obscuring the two-way mirror on their way.
When Fudge emerged from the private parlour, Mr. Lestrade was sitting in repose on an armchair, Sherlock was resting on the loveseat opposite to Mr. Lestrade with John reclining against him, and Miss Jackie, Harry and Julia were sitting around the fireplace holding empty mugs.
"Ah, Shin June Hu's family! And I see Harry, too," said Fudge, beaming. "Good evening, everyone; I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic."
Everyone knew this already, of course. But as they had been spying on him through a two-way mirror attached to a supposedly private parlor, Fudge wasn't to know that.
Sherlock was the first to rise to his feet, closely followed by John and Harry. Mr. Lestrade and Julia opted to step back and Miss Jackie to remain where she was.
"Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson," said Mr. Shin, indicating Sherlock and John, "Harry's adoptive parents."
"How do you do," said Sherlock in his most public school accent, hand outstretched.
Fudge smiled indulgently as he shook it, like he was regarding a very young school boy. "Charmed, I'm sure."
John approached next. Fudge was a lot warmer towards John. Harry suddenly realised in the currently coiffured, dressed and bejewelled state, John was a very beautiful woman.
"How do you do, Mrs. Holmes? I must say, you're a very lucky man, Mr. Holmes," said Fudge.
"I know," Sherlock rumbled.
Fudge shook hands with Harry after John. Harry was so jittery he couldn't unlock his jaw long enough to say anything. Mr. Shin moved onto Mr. Lestrade, Julia and Miss Jackie, introducing them as son-in-law, granddaughter, and daughter respectively. Both Mr. Lestrade and Julia were very reserved and nonverbal towards the jovial Fudge, and backed away even further when Mr. Jason and Mr. Jeremy appeared inside the living room carrying trays with covers like tall handsome genies.
"Oh, alright, just a little," said Fudge when Mr. Jason presented his platter full of mouth-watering Hors d'oeuvres and Mr. Jeremy pressed a tall wineglass of eggnog into the minister's hands.
"Thank you for taking the time to meet us, Minister," said John courteously. "I hope we're not intruding into your busy schedule."
"Don't mention it," said Fudge after finishing a Hors d'oeuvre. "I've always meant to see Harry's new guardians."
"I also want to thank you for alerting us non-magicals about the dangers of Sirius Black," John continued. "It would have been so easy for you to just keep us in the dark."
Fudge chuckled heartily. "Well, m'dear, I could dare not. Black is a danger to all who crosses his path, magic or Muggle."
"I'm sure you know," said Sherlock.
"Yes, of course," said Fudge, completely missing the hint of sarcasm.
"Still, I really appreciate how you thought about us," said John. "I have always respected statesmen who showed care."
Fudge swelled importantly as he basked in John's full attention; when John gave her full attention to you, it felt like you were the most fascinating person in the world.
"I'm sure you're making good progress in recapturing Black," said John.
"We're certainly doing our best," Fudge replied.
"Thank you. Now I really shouldn't delay you further," said John, looking up at Fudge with dewy eyes.
"Like I said before, don't worry about it," said Fudge, standing to his full, not considerable height. "I'm happy to make time to answer your questions. Anything else you'd like to know, m'dear?"
John hesitated. "I do have one question … but it's so silly."
"Let's hear it," said Fudge, spreading his thick hands.
"I heard a rumour," said John slowly, "that someone gave Black a newspaper a few days before he escaped from prison. I just wondered—could a newspaper trigger something like this? Foolish thinking, I know. But maybe if I knew which newspaper he got, I could rest this stupid idea of mine."
"Oh, is that all?" said Fudge, looking both indulgent and amused. "Well, I can certainly answer that! In my last inspection of Azkaban—that's our prison's name, by the way, in case you didn't know, dear—Black asked me if I could have my paper, he missed doing the crossword. I gave it to him."
Sherlock was immediately alert. "Do you know which paper and what edition?"
"The Daily Prophet, of course. But I don't remember the exact date—"
"The headline at least?" Sherlock pressed.
Fudge scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"Ah, yes, I remember now. It was about the Annual Daily Prophet draw. Arthur Weasley won, if I recall correctly."
John immediately grinded a heel into Sherlock's foot before his super-creepy Joker grin spread across his face.
"Thank you so much, Minister. That assures me a lot. I knew it was just a stupid idea."
"You're very welcome."
Everyone kept their faces straight until Fudge left the house.
"That was simultaneously the most awesome and terrifying thing I've ever seen," said Mr. Lestrade fervently while Mr. Jeremy and Mr. Jason nodded feverishly in agreement.
"Enjoyed yourself?" asked Sherlock, his voice heavy with irony.
"No. I thought I was going die," John declared. "If you ever make me do something like this again, I'm going to kill you, I'm serious."
Sherlock put on his most horrible smirk.
"Sure. Anything for you, m'dear."
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: Robert as a Customer Service Rep was too funny to resist, so I went with the idea despite not having planned it at all. Then I sat down and actually thought how wizards and witches of HP would respond to a very Muggle interview that requires IT. I was entirely too amused at the ensuing ideas. :D
The aluminum foil and baking soda solution really works. Try it out, folks! (But not jewelry! ETA: Jewelry often has other things besides silver [like gems and alloys] that could react in the solution too. Better safe than sorry unless you are certain the silver jewelry is all non-reactive or all silver)
Sherlock is now on the last stretch in figuring out the mystery related to Sirius. The other case however…