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 Fifty Six: Desirable Delays

The next morning Harry woke up with a sense of unease ossifying his stomach. He didn't have to think long to realise the cause of his unease was his choice to accept Dr. Robert's offer to take Voldemort's soul fragment from him. Harry had only felt relief when it was offered, but now, in the bright morning of day, he had to wonder if he was taking the easy way out. The idea that he might have acted cowardly was repulsive to him. But if he had been, was it too late to take his choice back? Dr. Robert had performed a magical vow, and it didn't feel like something he could break. Moreover, the idea of returning to the bleak state he'd been in for that last two weeks made him shudder.

Harry was still contemplating his choice when he came downstairs.

Dobby was bustling around in the kitchen, cooking and preparing an enormous breakfast as he always did on the days he came to do 221B's housework. John was overseeing Dobby and the coffee brewing (Dobby had trouble using the coffee maker—his magic usually sent the machine up in smoke). Sherlock wasn't marching around in the sitting room, but seated at the table. There were two small feverish spots on his hollow cheeks, but his eyes twinkled, and he seemed a different man to the sombre thinker of the previous night.

"Did you sleep?" Harry asked as he sat down.

"No," said Sherlock in low rumble. "I was thinking."

"I wondered," said John ironically as she carried three steaming mugs to the table. "So do you have an idea now?"

"I think I have the key of the affair," said Sherlock. "By the way, John, I think you're standing in the presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to be kicked from here to Charing Cross. But better late than never, mmm?"

"Sure. So what is it?" asked John, smiling.

"Harry's Hogwarts map," Sherlock answered. "It's obvious," he continued, seeing John and Harry's puzzled look. "Think from the agent's perspective: the Imperius Curse is the better option to maintain the day-to-day activities of the person he replaced. For operations that require a personal touch, using the Polyjuice potion or the Animagus spell makes more sense. The key lies in the latter type of operation. The agent needs to deliver Harry to Voldemort. We know he must since in Harry's vision, LV said 'there is still Harry Potter' in reference to feeding his snake, meaning he is expecting to have Harry in his clutches eventually. Therefore the agent must come within Harry's vicinity to deliver him to LV. The only time and place the agent can do so without raising suspicion is—"

"At Hogwarts, when the Triwizard tournament tasks are taking place," said Harry, comprehending at once. "The Marauder's map and my map shows what your real name is, whether you're disguised or not. The agent is the person who has the wrong name for their face."

"Precisely," said Sherlock, nodding. "So what should you do?"

"Get to know all the names of the people involved in the Triwizard tournament's first task and check if the name they give us matches the one that shows up on the map," Harry answered.

"Yes, and alert us and Dumbledore as soon as you see something suspicious," said Sherlock.

Harry nodded once. "Okay."

"Have you never considered counter-intelligence as a career? Because that was absolutely fantastic," said John. "I thought the threat was just typical evil dark lord speak."

"Any career that involves too much interaction with Mycroft isn't one worth pursuing," said Sherlock loftily. "Besides, the long periods of wait between cases would certainly bore me to—"

That moment, Dobby came out of the kitchen.

"Dobby finished making breakfast!" he announced, his skinny arms trembling to hold aloft the large tray laden with toast, cooked eggs (hard-boiled, poached and fried), baked beans, porridge, orange quarters and melon slices.

"Thank you, Dobby," said John gratefully, taking the tray from him. Sherlock just rolled his eyes, as though the very presence of the food was making him lose his appetite.

"You're more focused," Sherlock remarked to Harry after Dobby bowed low and then returned to the kitchen. "Did something happen last night? You were absent for three hours, but you didn't leave through the door."

"We attended a wake," said John quietly without looking up.

Sherlock gave John a swift look.

"…Ah," he said.

He didn't ask for more details. Sherlock even nibbled on a bit of toast, though he was technically still on a case. Harry wasn't sure if John's answer had any relation to this abnormality.

After everyone finished eating—a lot left over, as usual—John and Harry prepared for chapel. Sherlock shocked them both by offering to look after Benedict while they were away. John blinked at Sherlock several times before saying:

"Thanks, but I was going to stop by Lestrade's afterwards."

"Why?"

"Ellen and Greg suggested Benedict and Isaac have a play date. They also wanted to ask me a bunch of questions."

"Magic?"

"Sort of. They wanted to know more about House-elves. Speaking of which: Dobby?"

Dobby immediately rushed into the sitting room, his right hand still clutching the dish towel he was using.

"What can Dobby do for Dr. Watson and Harry Potter?" he asked eagerly.

"Do you know anything about raising house-elf children?" asked John.

Sherlock's eyes went wide at the question. Harry just felt clueless.

"Ah, Dobby is very sorry, Dr. Watson, but Dobby is not knowing how to raise elf children," said Dobby, looking crestfallen. "Dobby was raised by his mother, like her mother before her, for such is the way of house-elves. Dobby was ordered to sire children, of course, by his old masters, but I has not seen any of them."

John worked on her jaw several times, stony-faced, and Harry was simply gobsmacked.

"You … house-elves don't have kids unless they're ordered to?" John asked.

"Tis' part of the house-elf's enslavement, Dr. Watson, ma'am," said Dobby gravely. "A house-elf must always have master's permission before doing anything."

John stared at the ceiling, clenching and unclenching her hands.

"Right. Thank you, Dobby," said John in an admirably steady voice.

"You know, creating a house-elf advocacy group might be a good idea," said John as she, Harry and Benedict rode the tube (Benedict in his enchanted sling). "Call it the Society Promoting House-elf Welfare or something…"

"What about the House-elf Liberation Front?" Harry said as he wondered if the man throwing strange looks at them was eavesdropping.

"That sounds too focused on their liberation, not their general welfare," said John. "Anyway, food for thought…"

They arrived on time for service. Harry checked Miss Jackie periodically while Vicar Brown preached on 1 Corinthians 15:26. He didn't see much that would hint at her real mood, but her inscrutable face was a sign she was keeping everything to herself. At any rate, Harry learned more from her organ playing than from her demeanour. He didn't think he was alone in hearing the strong undercurrent of sadness in the music.

Harry, John and Benedict met up with the Lestrades after the benediction. It was almost four months since Harry had seen Mrs. Lestrade and Julia's younger siblings, the last time being the day Isaac was released from the hospital for Mrs. Lestrade and the Quidditch World Cup for Julia's siblings. Harry was struck at how much Isaac had grown since then. He was also struck at how small Isaac was compared to Benedict, who at three month was wearing clothes for six-month-olds. But he was a cheerful and lively baby, shrieking and giggling whenever Mr. Lestrade buried his face in his tummy and made loud, raucous noises. No one would've guessed he almost died at birth.

Mr. Lestrade also looked different enough to startle Harry. All the hair on Mr. Lestrade's head was completely white now, including his eyebrows and stubble, and he was wearing dirty white trainers, old jeans, a frumpy grey jumper and a frayed brown coat. Though it wasn't the first time Harry had seen Mr. Lestrade in casual clothes, he was still surprised to see him in such attire. But then, Harry reasoned, no one in their right mind would show up to their parish dressed in stereotypical church attire considering it was located in the middle of South East Peckham. Quite a few members of the congregation were either former gang-members or reforming gang-members from the neighbourhood who were new to the concept of Christian, thus had to be stopped from reverting to old habits, such as bludgeoning people with a two-by-four in a fit rage (usually with the shouted admonition: What would Jesus do?!).

"Nice modifications," said John, eyebrows raised, as everyone loaded into Mr. Lestrade's car. Much like Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia, all parts of the interior were magically extended: the backseat was enlarged to easily accommodate five car-seats (infant and toddler) and two relatively small teenagers (Harry and Julia), and the front passenger seat was magically stretched so Mrs. Lestrade and John could sit next to each other comfortably.

"These aren't modifications," said Mr. Lestrade airily. "My teachers — who shall remain anonymous — put them on the car to demonstrate. The spells are still there because I don't how to take them off."

"Sure," said John, while Mrs. Lestrade giggled. "So have you figured out how to make your car run without petrol?"

"That's borderline illegal," said Mr. Lestrade in mock indignation. "But if you want my opinion to that strictly hypothetical question, it's actually quite easy; you just need first-year level charms."

John smirked.

They arrived at the Lestrades' flat in thirty minutes. It looked like an ordinary Muggle flat with a few exceptions. Toy cars, trucks and picture books that had moving illustrations were lying around the living room's linoleum floor. Two media racks full of DVDs were on the either side of a flat-screen television, and a rather battered looking beige leather couch lined the wall opposite to it with a glass-top coffee table in the front. Toy broomsticks were leaning against a corner, and a brightly coloured baby activity mat much like the one in 221B was next to the coffee table.

The adults gathered around the baby activity mat with Isaac and Benedict in tow. Harry was pulled into the boy's room by an excited Rupert Lestrade, who apparently was very keen to have a much older boy to play with. Martin Lestrade, on the other hand, was not happy to have his biggest boy status usurped and showed his displeasure clearly on his face. Though he probably meant to look fierce, Harry thought his expression absolutely hilarious because it made him look like a six-year-old version of Mr. Lestrade whenever Sherlock was being himself at his worst.

The first thing Harry noticed when he stepped inside the boy's room — which was miraculously tidy — was a tiny creature about the height of two-year-old Elise Lestrade. It had long hands and feet, large bat-like ears, round green eyes the size of golf balls, and a disturbingly familiar long, pencil-shaped nose.

"Hello Treble," said Julia brightly, walking briskly past Harry, who was frozen on his spot. "Oh, you cleaned up the room, how very thoughtful of you!"

She lifted up the tiny House-elf standing on top of a plastic toy box and hugged it, cuddling the elf like she would a baby. The house-elf—the tiniest one Harry had ever seen— trembled all over before relaxing. Once the house-elf relaxed, Julia gently settled it back on top of the toy box. Treble the house-elf wrung its hands and stared adoringly and wonderingly at Julia as she walked back to her siblings.

Harry studied the elf, which he by then realised was the child house-elf John had obliquely referenced that morning, while Rupert crawled all over him. Peach fuzz he'd didn't recall seeing on older elves covered Treble's ears and head, and, like all house-elves who had owners, was wearing something other than actual clothes; in Treble's case, a white pillowcase adorned with music symbols.

"Dad found her in the old Lestrange estate," explained Julia in very quiet voice as she watched Elise hand over a pink plastic ball to an extremely nervous Treble and then clap her hands, fully expecting Treble to throw the ball back. "Her mum Tibble was there too, but she died two days after Dad brought them home."

"How do you know Treble is a girl?"

"I asked," said Julia. "And no, I don't ever want to know the physical differences between a girl elf and a boy elf…"

They shuddered before sobering.

"So she's alone?" murmured Harry.

"We're all she has," confirmed Julia. "She doesn't know how old she is, but I'm sure she's not old enough to know how to be a House-elf. And I think Tibble was sick for a long time — the only thing she was able to teach Treble was a bit of manual cleaning and that she's bound to serve the Lestranges for life."

Harry exhaled slowly as he pried Rupert's grabby arms off his face.

"What did you do with Tibble?"

"We buried her in Auntie Jack's back garden. Uncle Jason made a headstone."

"That was nice of them. So what are you and your family going to do with Treble?"

"We don't know," said Julia. "There's really not much a house-elf can do here except maybe minding my brothers and sisters, and Ellen's really uncomfortable with the idea of keeping an indentured servant."

"I don't suppose freeing her is an option."

"That would kill her," said Julia with much feeling.

"Taking her to Hogwarts wouldn't be a good idea either, not so soon after she lost her mum," Harry went on, as he was forcibly reminded of the many weeks before John and Sherlock was able to gain custody of him. It was among the worse periods of his life; after constantly being placed in a different family after a week, sometimes after a day, never knowing where he was going sleep next, while in the meantime, his magic kept doing strange things, Harry actually wished the Dursleys back, if it meant he had a place where he was allowed to stay.

Julia wordlessly shook her head as she continued to watch Treble and Elise throw a ball at each other and Martin play with an Iron Man doll on his own, looking sulky.

"I thought about asking Winky, but I always find her getting drunk on butterbeer lately," she said.

"You can get drunk on butterbeer?" said Harry incredulously. His inattention cost him; Rupert's wayward hand knocked his glasses off-kilter.

"It's strong for House-elves, I've been told," said Julia.

"Really," said Harry as he held Rupert tightly so he'd stop trying to wrestle him; Rupert immediately took this as a challenge and started to struggle against Harry's grip. "John asked Dobby this morning, but he said it's the mother elf's duty to raise children. The fathers don't get to see them at all."

Julia let out a loud sigh.

"Just when I think a house-elf's lot can't get worse," she grumbled. "By the way, did you know you can use magic here without getting caught?"

Harry blinked at her, puzzled. Julia sighed again, pulled out her wand and levitated all her siblings, much to their delight.

"Oh," said Harry, blinking at the squealing and laughing Martin, Rupert and Elise. "Is this how you amuse them?"

"Sometimes; the other times I use automotive charms to make the toys move so they can amuse themselves."

"Huh…"

Harry joined in after Julia lowered her siblings back to the floor. He turned a penny whistle into a watch that sang the time. Julia made the Iron Man toy tap-dance and then charmed Elise's ragdoll to waltz with it.

"Your charm work really improved," Harry said as Julia made Rupert's Nemo plush doll swim in the air.

"It finally clicked," said Julia, glowing pink but looking very pleased. "I mean, I never had problems doing spells with paper charms, but wands … in my head, that wasn't the way you do real magic. I'm over that now."

Then something about the way Rupert carried himself caught Julia's eye.

"Rupert, go potty," Julia ordered.

"Eeeeeeh … noooo…!" protested Rupert, even as he hunched over with his thighs clamped together.

"Now," said Julia sternly. "Or I'm going to send Elise first."

Rupert rushed to the toilet, shoving down his trousers and pants on the way, leaving them discarded on the floor.

"Yes, he does that sometimes," said Julia dryly at the snickering Harry.

Julia had to chase Rupert into the living room after he returned from the toilet, because Rupert refused to wear his pants again. Once Julia finished wrestling the clothes back on Rupert, she and Harry checked John, Mr. and Mrs. Lestrade. They found them in the midst of watching the fascinating activity called…

"Tummy time!" said Mrs. Lestrade between giggles, as she watched Isaac and Benedict, who were laid on their bellies on top of a blanket placed on the floor, side-by-side.

Mr. Lestrade laughed hard as Isaac struggled to keep his head up. Benedict just laid there, his left cheek resting on his arms.

"Benedict's not even trying," said John ruefully, "Oh, good move; excellent posture."

Benedict had finally shifted his head to stare straight ahead, but otherwise he did nothing. Isaac was wiggling around a lot, at one point stretching his right arm out like he was reaching for something.

"Isaac's, like, let me show you how it's done, mate," said Mr. Lestrade, grinning.

"And Benedict's like: I need a nap," said John.

"Oh, they made eye contact!" said Mrs. Lestrade.

Benedict had shifted his head to the other side and now was resting his right chin on his arms, looking sleepily at Isaac. Isaac, who was still working mightily to keep his head up, was side-glancing back at him.

"He's going to crack first," said Mrs. Lestrade when Isaac started squawking and bobbing his head.

Soon, Isaac's fussing got louder and more distressed. Mrs. Lestrade lifted Isaac up from the blanket and cuddled him, and John picked up Benedict to cradle him. If Harry didn't know any better, he would've said Benedict looked bored (but then his father was Sherlock…)

"Got anything planned for today?" asked Mr. Lestrade.

"No," said John.

"Then can you stop by my in-law's place? Grandpapa Shin wants to talk to you; something about a transfer."

John immediately turned stone-faced and Harry's heart stared thudding rapidly in his chest.

"Of course," said John quietly. "Now about that … did you know Jackie and Robert broke up?"

Mrs. Lestrade was instantly shocked. "Why?!" she shouted.

"How much do you know about the current LV situation?" John asked.

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Lestrade demanded. "What does he have anything to do with it? Isn't he dead?"

"In other words, nothing," John muttered. "It's too long, so let me summarize: The Magic world is at the cusp of civil war, news of LV's death is highly exaggerated and he's staging a comeback even as I speak, Robert is in the centre of the efforts trying to foil LV, and he broke up with Jackie because he needs to concentrate, never mind Jackie is just as involved in the foiling effort, too."

Mrs. Lestrade stamped her foot angrily after absorbing the summary.

"That's not right!" she exclaimed. "Oh, this is so ridiculous! I need to talk to Jackie now!"

Then she hurried away, taking Isaac with her.

"…That was cruel," Mr. Lestrade declared. "Ellen's not going to let it go and Jackie won't want to talk. The stalemate's going to last for days."

"Better Ellen than me," said John grimly. "I don't have her stamina."

"Please think of me and my poor children."

"You have a squad of in-laws doing it already."

"Cruel," said Mr. Lestrade, shaking his head. "So what is this transfer about?"

"How much do you know about the current LV situation?"

"Didn't know there was an LV situation until you brought it up. I suppose the drug-smuggling is somehow related?"

"Yep," said John. "I don't know how much I can tell you."

"Well, just so you know, all my estranged wizard family members are fanatical LV supporters," said Mr. Lestrade irritably. "I don't think they'll welcome me and Ellen with hugs and kisses if LV comes back."

"True," John conceded. "Okay, so this is what's going on…"

John explained what Voldemort's new agent had done in regards to the Triwizard Tournament, about Voldemort's soul fragment in Harry's scar and Dr. Robert's promise to take the soul fragment from Harry. Mr. Lestrade's right eye twitched throughout the explanation.

"Oh, bloody hell…" he hissed after John finished talking.

"It's an ugly mess," said John.

"How can you be so calm?!" shouted Mr. Lestrade.

"I'm not calm," said John in a low, dangerous voice. "I'm effing furious."

Mr. Lestrade breathed in deeply as he reared back.

"…Right," he said. "So what are you going to do? Just let the wizards do what they think is best?"

"I don't know," said John honestly. "It's not like I can stop them. And magic has these nuances that make it hard for me to think of alternatives."

"The more powerful the magic, the subtler it is, yeah," said Mr. Lestrade knowingly. "Want me to go with you?"

"If your wife lets you."

"She's already there, probably," said Mr. Lestrade as he got up. "Pack your stuff. Let's go."

-oo00oo-

While Mr. Lestrade and John prepared to go to Miss Jackie's, Harry and Julia waited in the living room. Harry kept his glance firmly on his knees because he couldn't bring himself to look at Julia. Julia was, in some ways, worse than Hermione when it came to hiding her thoughts. He didn't think he would stand it if Julia thought he was coward and he saw it plain on her face.

"You're so brave," said Julia abruptly.

Harry looked inspite of himself. "What?"

"Anyone can pretend like nothing is wrong, but I think it takes real courage to admit you're over your head and ask help," said Julia. "That's why I think you're brave."

Harry stared. He didn't know what to say.

He remained speechless until Mr. Lestrade came back, announcing that they were ready to go.

Mr. Lestrade led them to a very plain and innocuous looking two-door wardrobe made of pressure-treated wood. Harry smelled ozone when Mr. Lestrade opened the doors. Mr. Lestrade walked right into the wardrobe and vanished. His children followed his example, none of them looking remotely alarmed or disturbed. After Julia vanished whilst carrying Elise, Harry stepped inside the wardrobe. The smell of ozone was stronger inside and abruptly everything went black. His foot didn't seem to be touching anything, and he felt the sensation of standing on nothing. Then he took another step and suddenly Harry found himself inside another open wardrobe, leading out to the Shin's living room.

Harry quickly stepped out of the wardrobe and looked around. Mr. Lestrade was herding Martin, Rupert and Elise down a hall. Mr. Jason and Dr. Robert were sitting by the low table in the middle of the airy living room, having an animated discussion. Harry had to look away when he saw what Dr. Robert was wearing. His trousers looked as though he foraged a parachute lined with narrow black vertical stripes, cut the fabric with a blunt knife and stitched everything together to make clothes. His bare feet and wrinkled black-on-white chequered shirt, which looked as though it had been washed in seawater and hadn't seen a clothing iron for months, reinforced the impression Dr. Robert was marooned on a deserted island. Once Harry banished the afterimages, he listened to what Dr. Robert and Mr. Jason was talking about.

"Chicken thigh," said Dr. Robert firmly. "It's the best meat. Julia Child is going to back me up on this."

"Most people would pick the breast for health reasons," said Mr. Jason.

"Listen, the only reason why a chicken has breasts is because we haven't figured out how to make a chicken with four thighs," Dr. Robert argued seriously. "As soon as we do, we're going to be onto something."

"He must be really stressed," John remarked as Mr. Jason and Dr. Robert continued their discussion on chicken dinners. "Robert only talks about unhealthy-ish food when he's stressed."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Well he's the type who stress-eats, but he refuses to actually eat anything unhealthy, so he just talks about it," John explained.

Harry felt a bit weak. Julia sighed deeply and grumbled: "I wish he was easier to like."

Mr. Lestrade returned to the living room. He, Mr. Jason and Dr. Robert stood deferentially in attention when Grandmaster Shin entered the living room from the back garden. Mr. Shin nodded at his son and son-in-law. Then, after telling Dr. Robert to his face that he must either possess an extremely aggressive form of Stupid or had mastered Bonehead Logic — a mindset that made perfect sense once you eliminated the fear of pain, suffering and death, apparently — he started to address the soul fragment transfer.

"It cannot be done now," said Mr. Shin. "Normally the new human vessel has less magic than the old human vessel, so the magic in the soul fragment flows naturally to the new vessel. This is likely not the case for Dr. Ju and Harry, seeing as Dr. Ju has the equivalent of eighty years of cultivated magic."

"So we have to wait until Harry has more cultivated magic than Robert?" asked John.

"Well, I can gi—" Dr. Robert started.

"No," said Mr. Shin loudly. "Magic is not mindless. Wands may have less magic than humans, but they can still refuse to cooperate. Once Harry is able to control his magic without a wand — meaning he is able to sense it's presence inside his body and know how to move it consciously — then he will be able to cooperate with me when I perform the transfer."

Harry felt an odd sense of relief after he heard that. It was strange to feel that way.

"Will this delay work against your foolish vow, Doctor?" asked Mr. Shin.

"Uh, no," said Dr. Robert, scratching his neck. "I vowed that I would remove the soul fragment in Harry either by taking the soul fragment myself or help him destroy it through other means. Whichever becomes viable first. I didn't put any time restraints."

Harry felt another bout of relief. If Miss Jackie developed the spell first, then Dr. Robert wouldn't have to shoulder the burden at all. He quickly prayed that that would be the case.

"You are not as foolhardy as I feared," said Mr. Shin sardonically. "So it is settled. Jacqueline and I will continue to research bu-dong-myung-an-shim-gyul. Harry, in the meantime, must learn basic Tao-ga. Only you can teach him that, Doctor. I hope you have a way that doesn't involve traditional methods."

"Hailey would murder me if I locked him in a six-by-six-by-six cage and abandoned him in the Forbidden Forest," muttered Dr. Robert. "I'll think of something."

"I have a question," said Mr. Jason, raising his hand. "Why do you have to transfer the soul fragment to a human vessel? Wouldn't it be better to transfer it to a rat or something?"

"You can't," said Dr. Robert flatly.

"To transfer a soul fragment, one must also transfer life," Mr. Shin explained. "Life can only be given and taken between same kinds. The life of a rat is not the same as the life of a human. Therefore it cannot be done."

"Oh," said Mr. Jason, looking dazed.

"Wait, Auntie Jack said life is in the blood," said Julia. "Does that mean Harry has to give his blood to—"

"Yes," said Dr. Robert. "Ancient wizards knew transferring a soul fragment was risky and dangerous, but they didn't know why. Now we do: it was the blood type incompatibility."

"So what if you and Harry have different blood types?" asked Julia, looking very worried.

"Well, my blood type is AB+, so that makes me a universal recipient," said Dr. Robert. "But you're right. It's still risky. There's a reason why we don't do full blood transfusions anymore, and the transfer calls for that."

"There are potions that can overcome this problem," said Mr. Shin. "Don't worry about these details, Doctor. Just focus on the training."

Mr. Shin and Dr. Robert further discussed the training and the bu-dong spell. Mr. Shin said the last person who was able to performed it was an old acquaintance of his, simply known as Master Lee. Master Lee, according to Mr. Shin, lived and breathed Bonehead Logic, which was probably why he tried the bu-dong spell in the first place.

"Jacqueline is studying the circumstances under which he performed the spell," said Mr. Shin. "You should hear it from her."

Dr. Robert's expression became fixed. "Uh…" he stuttered.

Mr. Shin didn't stay to listen; he walked away.

"Does he not know Jack and Robert are…" whispered John, waving a hand at Mr. Shin's retreating back.

Mr. Jason shook his head tiredly. "I don't think so."

"You guys didn't tell him?"

"We've been trying," said Mr. Jason exasperatedly. "But it doesn't click. I even flat-out told him Jack and Robert are together. This was his reaction."

Mr. Jason put on a stony expression that made him look exactly like Mr. Shin without wrinkles. Then he started to laugh in way that sent chills down Harry's spine.

"He thought I was joking," Mr. Jason complained after he finished his terrifying demonstration. "And I can't say I blame him, not when Jackie always acts like that when Dad and Robert are in the same room."

He pointed. Harry, John, Julia and Mr. Lestrade turned to look. Miss Jackie was entering the living room, Mr. Shin and Mrs. Lestrade right behind her. Mrs. Lestrade did a full body twitch when she saw Dr. Robert. Miss Jackie, on the other hand, just closed her eyes in pained resignation.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they waited for Miss Jackie to further react.

"…Robert," said Miss Jackie eventually. "What are your trousers?"

"I thought you weren't going to talk about them," said Dr. Robert with a ghost of a smile on his face.

"They make you look like an able-bodied seaman from 1873. How can I not talk about them?" snapped Miss Jackie.

Dr. Robert's smile only became more pronounced.

"Is that your hat?" said Miss Jackie, pointing at something without looking at it. "It has to be. No one else would wear something so purple."

Harry looked reluctantly. The trilby Miss Jackie was pointing at was indeed purple, and it had a maroon band.

"I think I know what the problem is," said Mr. Lestrade sarcastically.

"Why does he dress like that?" Mr. Jason wondered. "I mean, seriously, why?"

"I have no idea," muttered John. "It's like an actual disability. And it's getting worse every year."

-oo00oo-

Miss Jackie eventually told everyone (minus Mrs. Lestrade, who'd rather look after her children then suffer the sight of Dr. Robert) the circumstances under which Master Lee used the bu-dong spell.

"The first time he'd used it was also the first time it was successfully cast in many decades," said Miss Jackie as she read the notes on her lap. "He came across a religious cult secretly led by an unscrupulous dark wizard who called himself Enkidu, and when he infiltrated the base, he encountered a heavy illusion—"

"What's a heavy illusion?" asked Julia.

"It's an illusion in the sense that it doesn't affect the material world. But it can wreak havoc in a person's mind and thus drive the person insane," said Miss Jackie. "Anyway, he got caught in one. Tao-ga was the only type of magic he knew, so it makes sense he would use a Tao-ga spell. But all records say he wasn't at all skilled at Tao-ga. Master Lee himself admits he has very little talent in magic."

"Wait a minute," said Mr. Lestrade. "You mean he invaded the base knowing he wasn't equipped to handle the situation?"

"Well it says here strategy and intelligence weren't his strongest skills…"

"Stupid. You mean he was STUPID," interrupted Mr. Shin.

Miss Jackie winced. "Well the, um, victims Enkidu captured for human sacrifice testifies Master Lee was suddenly enveloped in a blinding, gold light. The heavy illusion, which took the form of a giant serpent made of blue-green flames, vanished when the light faded. Master Lee says he thought about bu-dong-myung-an-shim-gyul when he saw the snake. Master Lee was able to repeat the feat after this, but not very often because bu-dong-myung-an-shim-gyul required a lot of magic and its effectiveness was hit-or-miss. For example, it did nothing when he was under the Cruciatus Curse, though the light bought him enough time to physically clobber the witch who cast it on him."

They fell into a thoughtful silence. John, who was sitting next to Miss Jackie, unexpectedly broke it:

"He looks like my dad's friend Mr. Lee," said John, pointing at the notes.

Mr. Shin looked at John sharply. "Tell me more," he demanded.

"He and his wife were our neighbours," said John, looking a bit surprised. "My dad and Mr. Lee played rugby at the local club, and Mrs. Lee visited us weekly with food baskets. They were there at the hospital when me and my sister was born. I don't think my dad would've coped without them when my mother died."

Mr. Shin nodded slowly, his dark eyes glinting.

"Interesting," he muttered.

Harry was unable to follow the discussion that happened afterwards because the words Mr. Shin and Miss Jackie were using flew right over his head. Mercifully, he didn't have to stay for all of it, because John said they'd better go because Benedict's nap time was at hand.

"Can we buy one of these enchanted wardrobes?" John asked as she bundled Benedict into his sling.

"I made it," said Dr. Robert. "I could—"

"No," said Mr. Shin firmly. "It's against our laws to put such a powerful enchanted device in a primarily muggle household."

"Shame," said John regretfully.

-oo00oo-

The first thing Harry did when he returned to Hogwarts later that afternoon was rounding up Julia, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny and tell them everything he'd learned over the weekend. Ron looked like his head was about to explode when Harry finished talking.

"We always knew Sherlock was brilliant, but this is especially clever," said Hermione admiringly. "It makes perfect sense; even if the agent is under disguise, his real name won't change."

"So how should we do this?" Harry said.

"Well finding the names of the people involved in the task is easy enough. We just have to introduce ourselves, and then ask for their names," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "I expect there's going to be a lot of names to remember, so I think either me or Julia should keep an eye on the maps."

"We better use the Marauder's map," said Julia thoughtfully. "The 3D map is too flashy and obvious."

"True," said Hermione. "But once you're inside the editor's booth, you can use the 3D map."

They quickly decided each person's roles after this. Ron would contact Bagman and Crouch, suggesting that they introduce themselves to everyone involved in the first task before it happened to prevent any confusion when they filmed it. Hermione would note the (ministry) worker's name as they did, Harry would 'film' the task as expected, and in meantime everyone would monitor the map.

"So this training you have to do, when will it happen?" asked Hermione, looking rather envious.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Dr. Robert has to come up with a training plan that doesn't involve abandoning me in the Forbidden Forest. Who knows when that will happen?"

Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville looked highly disturbed.

"What kind of magic requires you to abandon people in the Forbidden Forest in order to learn it?!" Ron asked incredulously.

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

Time acted in the most peculiar fashion after that brief meeting. There were moments when Harry swore the clock wasn't moving at all. Everyone who wasn't a champion said they couldn't wait to see the first task, but Harry, who had far more than entertainment at stake, swore he'd lose his head if time moved any slower. His impatience frayed his attention so much, he kept accidentally summoning heavier and harder things than the cushion he was suppose focus on at Charms — Professor Flitwick, for example.

Percy Weasley sent an Owl on Monday at around lunch. His note said to meet him at the grounds so he could escort them to where the first task would take place. He also complimented Ron for alerting Mr. Crouch as he should have. Ron looked torn between revulsion and shock when he read that.

Harry was awake for most of the night. As he lay on his four-poster, he kept wondering who the agent may be. Could he be one of the dragon keepers? Bagman? Crouch? He could literally be anyone if he used the Polyjuice potion…

Harry didn't know when he fell asleep, but he woke up Tuesday morning when Ron threw a pillow at him.

"Oi, time to go!" Ron shouted.

Harry readjusted his glasses, which were still on his face.

"Yeah," he said grimly.

-oo00oo-

Final Notes: Another update that took me two weeks. I apologize for the longer wait periods. I just can't write fast when a chapter isn't funny (In fact I was able to write everything in two days once it became funny) … Anyway, here it is. And there is still so much left to cover. Why so long, GOF, why…

If you want to know how Mr. Shin laughs, just look up a video where Agent Smith from Matrix trilogy is laughing. Robert is quoting Alton Brown when he talks about chicken thighs.

House-elf breeding practices are based on the W.O.M.B.A.T. test. Apparently house-elves have an average life expectancy of 200 years, cannot be ordered to kill themselves, breed infrequently and only with their master's permission. The plot idea that came out of the factoid was quite … unsettling.

The first task is next. Perhaps I'll even get to cover the Yule Ball. Bahahaha… at last…!