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 incorporates elements of season 2 as much as possible. Readers beware!
Chapter Sixty Nine: Mind Games
In the sitting room of 221B, an assortment of chairs plus one couch were arranged in a large circle around the coffee table, which was moved closer to the centre. A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace, and a fancy tea set lay on the sitting room table, ready to serve tea at any moment. The sitting room was otherwise devoid of human presence, though one could hear the muffled sound of raised voices through the ceiling:
"How come I don't get to attend the meeting?!"
"You're too young!"
"So what?! Voldemort doesn't care how old I am! He probably wants to kill me before my next birthday or something…"
"You know, Benedict needs a minder—"
"No, he doesn't! He can join us too! It's not like he can understand what we're saying…"
"You cannot rule out the possibility that he comprehends language, but his vocalization skills need more development. Now if you find being the only one left out is too objectionable, Sirius and Remus can stay with you. They don't have anything useful to contribute anyway."
"…What did you say?!"
The multitude of voices argued for quite some time. Eventually the voices tapered off, and the sound of feet trooping down a flight of stairs echoed through the flat. Then the door to the sitting room opened and Sherlock and John walked in. The two headed to the arrangement of chairs and each claimed a seat.
"Thank you for putting your foot down, John," said Sherlock as he settled into his customary leather armchair.
"Don't thank me. We're going to pay for this later," John sighed after collapsing onto the couch. "He's going to sulk for a week, I just know it. Doesn't that remind me of someone…"
"Environmental factors are not as strong as you are currently implying," Sherlock chided. Then he checked his watch and clicked his tongue irritably. "They're late! Why are they late?!"
"You can't be late if there was no agreed time," said John sensibly. "So who are we expecting?"
"Dumbledore, Lestrade, Shin," said Sherlock, whilst drumming his fingers impatiently on the armrest, "and one unwanted but nevertheless invited guest…"
"Who?"
That moment, there was quiet knock on the door. A tall, middle-aged man wearing Italian leather shoes and a three-piece bespoke suit under a finely-cut overcoat stood at the threshold when it opened. John's face dropped at the sight.
"Yes, him," said Sherlock, sighing dramatically.
"Good eve to you too, little brother," drawled Mycroft Holmes. Then he raised an eyebrow towards the ceiling, from which furious stomping sounds could be heard.
"That's Harry demonstrating his maturity," said John, after a beat, "thus his suitability to attend this meeting. Sound like a delicate butterfly, doesn't he?"
"The size of Ireland?" said Mycroft ironically.
"I was thinking Africa, but that would do too. So why'd you invite your brother, Sherlock?"
"He's planning to kidnap an attendee—Dumbledore, probably— so I'm saving him the trouble," said Sherlock as he sent a glare at Mycroft. "Don't get too comfortable."
Mycroft smirked and seated himself in the red armchair like a man thoroughly at ease.
No one spoke in the wait that followed. Mycroft idly toyed with his umbrella, Sherlock strummed his violin and John watched the screen of a baby monitor, through which one could observe Benedict rolling around in his crib, yowling.
There was another knock at the door, and Lestrade and his father-in-law, Mr. Shin, were there.
"Tea party?" said Lestrade sarcastically as he took off his coat.
John nodded. "I'm playing mother."
Mr. Shin snorted. He then sat next to Lestrade, who took the empty spot on the couch next to John. Mr. Shin politely refused the tea John offered, and opted to drink an unidentifiable steaming liquid he kept inside a thermos. John asked Mr. Shin if the liquid was oolong or green tea and Mr. Shin told her he wasn't drinking tea.
Another tense silence filled in the sitting room after the first attempt at small talk died a painful death. Then the sitting room door opened for a third time and at the doorway stood a tall, thin man with waist-length silver hair and beard. Half-moon spectacles were perched on his crooked nose, and he was wearing a long black travelling cloak and a pointed wizard's hat.
"Good evening," said Albus Dumbledore at his staring audience. "I daresay that I am expected?"
"…Yes, hello," said John, after taking in the blatant wizardishness of Dumbledore's attire. "You know, if I'd known you weren't going to bother hiding the wizard, I would have ditched the baby monitor."
"My apologies, but I did not expect Mr. Mycroft Holmes," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "At any rate, I do not think keeping secrecy in this front is necessary. Evidence suggests to do so in front of the Holmes Brothers would be trying one's luck to the point of foolishness."
"Likewise," drawled Mycroft.
"You flatter me," said Dumbledore as he made a short bow. "It has been a long time since our last conversation, Mr. Holmes. I must say, you look leaner than you did last."
Sherlock put on the most malicious smirk.
"Did you hear that, Mycroft? You actually found a diet that lets you lose weight."
"Yes, it is quite the celebratory occasion," said Mycroft dryly. Then to Dumbledore he said, "Do join us, Headmaster. We shan't keep you long, I think."
"Thank you," said Dumbledore.
He stepped smartly over the threshold and closed the door behind him. Once he joined the circle of chairs, Sherlock rapped his armrest.
"We are here to discuss LV War part II," Sherlock began imperiously. "All meanderings and useless speculation will be cut off with extreme prejudice as we haven't the time; we do have a five-month-old."
"Will there be baby pictures at the end?" asked Dumbledore hopefully.
Sherlock threw a teacup at him. With a casual flick of his wand, Dumbledore turned it into a canary. The yellow song bird flew over to Sherlock and circled around his head, twittering cheerfully.
Mr. Shin reached over and patted John's arm consolingly while Mycroft chuckled and Sherlock demanded John her gun.
"I can turn them into potted plants," he quietly offered.
"Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme?" John growled.
Mr. Shin nodded once, "Done."
"Oh, that won't do," said Dumbledore, looking quite amused.
There was a second twitch of the wand. The canary vanished, and a dusty bottle and six glasses appeared in midair. The bottle tipped and poured a generous measure of honey-coloured liquid into each of the glasses, which then floated to each person in the room.
"Madam Rosmerta's finest oak-matured mead," said Dumbledore, raising his glass.
"What is this, a refreshments potluck?" Lestrade grumbled as he caught hold of his glass. He then spilled mead all over his hand when Mr. Shin kicked him. Sherlock took both his and John's glasses, but didn't drink either, though John looked at it rather longingly.
"Well, then," said Dumbledore, after taking a sip. "I apologise for the interruption. As Sherlock said, we are here to discuss the aftermath of Lord Voldemort's return. Namely, the burning question: what will he do now?"
There was a nodding of heads. Mycroft did so whilst scribbling something on his shirt cuff and blithely ignoring the glass of mead gently nudging his head.
"So this … Voldemort character— he obtained what he so desperately sought," asked Mycroft phlegmatically.
"Quite so," said Dumbledore. "But the object he sought was contaminated prior to its abduction. We do not yet know all ramifications of this, but I do believe Voldemort is feeling the effects right now."
"Joy," said John sardonically. "Too bad it didn't kill him."
"Yes, that would have prevented a great deal of future heartache," said Dumbledore sombrely.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and Mycroft's eyes glittered over the brim of his glass, which he had finally taken.
"Oh stop being coy and just tell us everything," Sherlock grumbled. "You already gave away the fact the thing LV wanted was something that he needed to consume."
Mycroft sighed. "Why must you be so intransigent?"
"I am not here to play games, Mycroft," Sherlock snapped. "So will LV proceed as is or will he seek a second weapon?"
"You have hit the nerve of the problem, Sherlock," said Dumbledore. "Will Lord Voldemort seek a second weapon? He did not have the opportunity to test his first weapon, and right now he may feel it is not enough for his purposes. But if he decides to look for a second weapon, what weapon would he seek?"
"Why don't you tell us?" said Lestrade, waving his glass. "What do you think?"
"I'm afraid this is where Secrecy enters the picture, Greg," said Dumbledore. "Neither June Hu nor I can discuss its exact nature with our current audience."
"Isn't that convenient," muttered Lestrade. "So what are the chances of a follow up meeting? Zero? Negative fifty?" he went quiet when Mr. Shin kicked him again.
"Surely you can deduce a few things about it," said Dumbledore, smiling and nodding at Sherlock and Mycroft.
"Known," said Sherlock promptly.
"To those connected to the government, Sherlock, only to them," Mycroft clarified. "Not exactly public knowledge, but those who have the security clearance or have a connection to such people are aware of its existence. That's obvious surely."
"Transparent," Sherlock agreed. "It can be either an object that causes destruction or knowledge equally damaging."
"Also something a thirty-person strong terrorist group that has moles in the government can access and operate," Mycroft added.
"Wait a minute, how did you get the number thirty?" Lestrade demanded.
"I glanced through the index Sherlock made on Voldemort's past followers, Chief Inspector," said Mycroft. "It was easy enough to count the ones who are alive and free."
"What did your mummy say about stealing your little brother's things?" said John, eyes narrowed.
Mycroft shrugged. "It was of national importance. Now the last thing one can deduce is that the weapon is stored in an undisclosed, static location—a government facility, of course. These are deductions so obvious, I do not think it is necessary to belabour over the reasoning process. The counter-strategy, too, is equally obvious."
"Up the security?" guessed John.
"That would be a waste," sneered Mycroft. "You are facing government resistance and lack of public knowledge, are you not? Trying to up security without the cooperation of either party is a fool's errand. Trying to fight a battle with multiple fronts is also a loser's game, especially when you are in a defensive position and are vastly outnumbered. What you need to do is create an event—a shocking, public event that makes Voldemort's return undeniable. What better way than allow him to infiltrate a supposedly secure government facility holding a deadly weapon and attack him once he enters?"
"So you're suggesting an ambush," said John. "I guess that makes more logistical sense."
"Just so," said Mycroft, nodding. To Dumbledore he said rather condescendingly: "Even if you have not considered this stratagem, I don't think you will have problems filling out the details."
"No," said Mr. Shin curtly, making everyone look. "We just need to let Voldemort know when security is down. That can be arranged."
Mycroft sniffed delicately. "Good. Time to move on, then."
"Move on to what?" asked Lestrade mutinously.
"Well, you didn't invite me here for just trivia, did you?" said Mycroft.
"Indeed, no," said Dumbledore, who's bright blue eyes still lingered on Shin. "You must know from past records that when Voldemort is active, his destructive influences always spill over to your world."
"So you seek my cooperation?"
"Of course."
"I do not have as much power over the government as you think," said Mycroft, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. "To influence the relevant agencies, I need proper justification for the additional expense. Hiding your daily indiscretions is costly enough as it is."
"Therefore you need an incentive," said Dumbledore.
Mycroft raised his glass.
"The kind of incentive you seek I cannot give," said Dumbledore calmly. "But I can give you some advice: if you have not already, stopping using the blood."
Mycroft's expression slowly transformed to that of a plaster bust.
"The most curious thing happened last summer," said Dumbledore, fingertips touching. "A newborn infant required three transfusions of Magus positive blood. Though one regular adult blood unit can create six pediatric blood units, the hospital collected three adult units of Magus positive blood for that one infant. Then, after the infant was released, those adult units were removed from storage for disposure. While I understand blood products are perishable, it seems rather strange that the blood donated by our kind were disposed of so quickly."
Mycroft remained perfectly steady. Lestrade, on the other hand, sputtered at him in outraged disbelief.
"Blood has a long history of use among our kind," Dumbledore went on. "I myself am not an expert in this field, but I know enough about it to draw some conclusions on what may happen if you use it without the owner's permission. Still, if you prefer the opinions of an expert, we have one right here. June Hu?"
"Life is in the blood," said Mr. Shin monotonously. "Do not bother to question this. The exercise is about as useful as questioning the intelligibility of the universe. If you take that which belongs to a person without his or her say-so, you are stealing. You know what stealing life is, don't you?"
Mycroft shrugged, "A regrettable fact of this world."
"That doesn't make it right," said Mr. Shin severely. "You must know there are consequences to stealing. The power we possess has the property of making truth overt. In this case, you must forfeit something of equal value."
"Take away the life of someone else, you must forfeit yours," Dumbledore concurred. "Among our kind, the forfeiture manifests itself as a profound instability in the thief's essence—his or her soul is compromised, in other words. It may not kill us outright, as our power has a preservative effect, but rare is the person who lives long after committing this sort of act."
Dumbledore looked at Mycroft over his half-moon glasses.
"I will let you imagine what would happen if one of your own kind commits it," he finished.
-oo00oo-
"Can you hear anything?" asked Harry.
Sirius, who had transformed into a dog to better eavesdrop, shook his head before transforming back.
"I think they're using an Imperturbable Charm," Sirius grumbled.
Harry groaned. Benedict, whom Harry was holding, made a noise that was possibly an imitation of it.
"Yeah, I know, it's so weird," Harry grumbled to his little brother. "Normally they get told off for letting me do dangerous stuff…"
Harry, Sirius and Remus passed time speculating what the downstairs meeting attendees were discussing. Benedict started to scream and cry as they were warming up to the more absurd ideas and the sound brought John upstairs.
"They're still at it," said John as she consoled Benedict. "It's Sherlock and Mycroft verses Dumbledore right now."
Harry felt his eyes go wide as it dawned on him there were three geniuses in the same room, each possessing different temperaments and goals, trying to one-up each other. Will we survive this? He wondered.
"Yeah, they're taking friendly-fire to a whole new level," John remarked dryly. "Harry and Benedict, just in case their talk leaves nothing but a giant crater where 221B used to be with purple gay ponies frolicking about: Mummy loves you. Daddy loves you too. Probably."
John didn't rejoin the meeting, but remained in Harry's room even after Benedict calmed down. Mr. Lestrade sent a text to John in the meantime, and it simply said: I'm out of here.
It was quite late at night when Sherlock joined Harry, John, Sirius and Remus.
"They're gone," he said simply. "Remus, Dumbledore says: come back to work, work meaning Hogwarts."
"Really?" said Remus, looking mildly surprised. "I would've thought he'd want me to contact the werewolf community."
"He says your fellow test subjects are better suited for the job," said Sherlock. To Sirius he ordered: "Go back to work."
Sirius groaned.
"Harry, I'm going to debrief you on the meeting," Sherlock went on.
"If you're going to tell me what the meeting was about anyway, why didn't you let me attend?" Harry said indignantly.
Sherlock gave Harry the 'are-you-really-this-stupid' look.
"Dumbledore is frugal with his information and your presence only makes it worse," he said. "Banning you from attending the meeting would've put him at ease, as it would appear that I think it is best we keep the information away from you. Furthermore, the best way to get information out of Dumbledore is putting him in a setting where there are individuals who can think his thoughts after him, since he never outright lies and will confirm if you are correct.
"Is that the other reason why you invited Mycroft?" asked John.
Sherlock nodded once. "Dumbledore no doubt planned to confront Mycroft and vice versa. Best do it where we can observe it."
"Where you can observe it, you mean," said John in fond exasperation. "Well, from what little I heard, I can tell you were correct. But wouldn't Dumbledore know what you're up to? Mind-reading and all that."
"He might guess, but he won't know," said Sherlock confidently.
"Why not?" said Sirius.
"There are two different methods of mind reading," said Sherlock, palms under his chin. "Grandmaster Shin practices a passive-receptive type, which involves 'hearing' thoughts as they circulate through the mind. Dumbledore and Snape practice an active-intrusive type that requires eye contact. So far, obvious."
"…Obvious?" John muttered.
"Both have their own limitations," Sherlock continued. "The latter method allows you to rifle through a person's mind and bring up more memories in addition to the ones you are thinking, but as I said before, eye contact is necessary. It also doesn't work on John or Harry."
"It doesn't?" said John, startled. "How do you know this?"
"The greatest con of the latter method is that the target can feel the intrusion," said Sherlock. "Have you two ever felt like your mind was intruded into?"
John shook her head in the negative. Harry, on the other hand, nodded and said, "I did. Sometimes when Dumbledore looks at me, I feel like I am being x-rayed. Snape, too."
"Do you remember the first time you felt this?" Sherlock asked.
"Errr, second year in November, just after you figured out the Monster of Slytherin is a Basilisk," Harry replied. "Dumbledore called me to his office and I felt it when he looked at me."
"Was he surprised when he learned you picked up self-duplication in order to locate the Chamber of Secrets?"
"Mmm, yeah," said Harry, frowning thoughtfully.
"I thought as much," said Sherlock with grim satisfaction. "If Dumbledore or Snape were able to read your mind, then they would've known how you were planning to uncover the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore may have let you work it out on your own, but Snape would not. Conclusion: their method of mind-reading does not work on you."
Harry nodded slowly. But then he frowned. "But why? Why doesn't it work?"
Sherlock put his hand into the neck opening of his shirt and pulled out his dog-tags, hanging on a ball chain.
"Oh!" Harry and John exclaimed. Sirius and Remus, too, gaped as soon as Harry showed them his own dog-tags.
"I don't wear this as often as Harry," said Sherlock, as he tucked the chain back in his shirt. "But lately I've been wearing it whenever I meet magic people. I conducted a few experiments and discovered as long as I'm wearing this, neither Dumbledore nor Snape can read my mind."
John thought about this for a second.
"So the tags let you keep your thoughts away from Dumbledore," said John. "But what about Mr. Shin? He can read my mind and I'm pretty sure he can read Harry's."
"His method works by proximity," said Sherlock. "Once you are outside the range, he can't read you."
John set her arms apart to estimate the distance between Sherlock and Mr. Shin's seats.
"Two meters?" guessed John.
"Roughly," Sherlock confirmed. "He wouldn't have known my plans through you, and he wouldn't sit next to me, he hates me."
"He was certainly fighting the urge to turn you into a pot of sage," John retorted, "But why all this secrecy? Don't you trust Dumbledore?"
"Trust him?" scoffed Sherlock. "John, I can trust him to comprehend the intricacies of magic like no other—LV or Shin may possibly win him in a magic battle, but in terms of magical knowledge, he really is second to none. I can also trust his dedication to eradicate LV and his ilk for the greater good. I can even trust him to have ours and Harry's best interests in mind."
"But?" John prompted.
"Can I trust him to properly balance these different priorities together?" said Sherlock grimly, "No. Absolutely not."
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: In terms of teeth-pulling qualities, writing this chapter trumps many. Sherlock and Mycroft are just too clever. They practically revealed the whole plot of OOTP whenever I let them talk too long. ARGH.