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 Seventy One: The Ministry Maneuvers
Lestrade felt a sense of inevitability and impending doom when he received a summons from Cornelius Fudge the day after the LV War Prep Meeting. He took the Ministry of Magic's lift to go down to the first floor, grumbling all the way, and braced himself for a long and harrowing interrogation session as he knocked on the door to the Minister of Magic's office.
"Yes?" said Fudge's voice immediately.
"It's Lestrade. You wanted to see me?"
"Ah, yes," said Fudge. "Yes, do come in, Lestrange."
Lestrade reminded himself that shoving the MM's wand down his throat for using his much despised family name was bad form as he entered. He found Fudge seated behind a vast mahogany desk, looking offensively paternal with his fat hands clasped together.
"Take a seat," said Fudge as he unclasped a hand to wave at the chair before his desk. "You must be tired, going back and forth from here to your Muggle post. Here, have a drink."
Lestrade regarded the tumbler of Scotch Fudge pushed towards his direction for a lingering moment.
"Sorry, but I have a yeast allergy," Lestrade lied. "I break out in hives when I drink the stuff."
"Oh," said Fudge, looking putout, "Too bad."
"Thanks for offering, anyway," said Lestrade as he sat down. "So what did you want to see me for?"
Fudge suddenly turned serious.
"That ugly prank footage that appeared at the Triwizard Tournament yesterday, what else?" he said. "The Prophet is having a field day over it … and the Ministers of Magic from France and Bulgaria have been pelting me with owls ever since! I need to get to the bottom of this mess, get it resolved and out of the way as quickly as possible!"
"You want me to investigate?" said Lestrade, eyebrows raised. "But I have a conflict of interest. Jacqueline's my sister-in-law."
"You're the only person who can understand how the Magical Mobile Network works and who our kind would respect," said Fudge flatly. "Normally a case like this would go to Arthur Weasley, but considering his reputation and past affiliations, I can't afford to let him handle it."
Lestrade certainly couldn't see Arthur resisting the urge to permanently damage Jacqueline's servers out of innocent curiosity. "Okay, so you want to find out how and why. But sounds like you've already made up your mind that it's a prank."
"I'm not ruling out other possibilities, but prank is the best explanation we have right now," said Fudge tersely.
"Dumbledore told Hogwarts the footage was real."
"Just because Dumbledore says so doesn't mean that it's true!" snapped Fudge. "I mean: You-Know-Who back? Preposterous. Absolutely preposterous. What was the point of the Boy-Who-Lived, then, I ask you!"
Lestrade wondered how Harry would take this statement.
"I suppose there is some room for doubt," Lestrade conceded. "But considering who might be back, wouldn't it be wiser to take some precautions? At least find out where this footage was filmed at?"
"That may be true, but that doesn't mean we should lead the country to panic," said Fudge sternly. "That's exactly what Dumbledore is trying to do. You wouldn't believe the sort of advice he gave me. He actually thinks we should remove the Azkaban guards! As if anyone in their right mind would! Half of the Wizarding World sleeps soundly at night because the Dementors are guarding the prisoners. Doesn't he realise a move like that will destabilize everything we've accomplished so far? Mind is starting to go, if you ask me."
"He looked fine to me," said Lestrade, before he could stop himself. "Blimey, if I'm as sharp as he is when I'm a hundred…"
"Don't tell me you're for Dumbledore, too!" Fudge exclaimed.
"I'm just saying," said Lestrade, with an exaggerated shrug. "I mean, how would I know? I've only met him three times my entire life."
"Oh," said Fudge, looking a bit taken aback. "Well, no, I don't suppose you would … I keep forgetting you never went to Hogwarts."
Then a sly smile started to play on Fudge's lips.
"It was horrible, wasn't it, learning you were never admitted to Hogwarts, even though you had every right to," said Fudge, donning a face that would have been quite appropriate at a funeral.
"One of the biggest regrets of my life, yeah," Lestrade said, truthfully enough.
"I definitely consider it a tragedy," said Fudge pompously. "You're a fine wizard, if I may say so. You have no idea how invaluable you have been to the Ministry. Especially considering the current Muggle climate … Muggles these days," Fudge suddenly grumbled. "They just won't let us be like they used to!"
Lestrade said nothing in response, though he had a lot to say (none of them remotely polite).
"It should've never happened," Fudge went on. "I would've never let that happen. You know, I think it is high-time Hogwarts went through some much-needed change."
"What do you mean?" Lestrade asked.
"I always gave Dumbledore free-reign over Hogwarts," said Fudge. "Complete free-reign. That worked well enough in the past, but now, in light of what happened recently and you, I think it's time the Ministry took a more active role in Hogwarts and take a close look at Dumbledore. His decisions are turning increasingly questionable and I'm even starting to doubt his sanity. Lucius has been hinting at this for years, but I didn't see the signs myself until now…"
"Hang on, Lucius Malfoy got sacked as school governor two years ago for questionable conduct," Lestrade interrupted. "You sure you want to listen to him?"
Fudge turned a bit red.
"Good advice is still good advice, no matter what the source," he said evasively. "But as I was saying, I think the Ministry should step up and make sure Hogwarts is running properly. I'm thinking of ratifying a new educational decree and appoint an Inquisitor to Hogwarts. I know just the person… she's quite good at evaluating chaff and getting rid of nonsense … Who knows, she might find evidence Dumbledore had a hand in the footage!"
This time Lestrade blinked as he digested Fudge's words and its implications. Did Fudge really mean …?
"Hang on, Minister," said Lestrade. "Are you … you think Dumbledore set the whole thing up?"
"I cannot afford to overlook the possibility," said Fudge importantly. "The idea is not as mad as you think. It's certainly saner than sending envoys to giants for a nonexistent You-Know-Who threat, which is another thing Dumbledore suggested. Envoys to giants… Ha! They'd kick me out of the office for even suggesting it! I can't put anything past him at this point…"
Lestrade certainly wouldn't put past anything less absurd and irrational from the Minister.
"Anyway, we need to move quickly, before Dumbledore can do any real damage," said Fudge. "So first things, first: do you think Harry Potter agrees with Dumbledore?"
Lestrade hadn't expected this question, but at the same time, it wasn't exactly surprising. Gaining the endorsement of the person famous for defeating LV when his opponent was announcing LV's return would be a good political move under different circumstances.
"I have no idea," Lestrade answered. "I don't really talk to him, and he's at the age when it's not cool to talk to authority figures like me, unless it's to talk back."
"His adoptive parents, then? You're friends with them, aren't you?"
Lestrade was very tempted to tell Fudge Sherlock Holmes could count the number of his friends with two mutilated hands, and he wasn't one of them.
"I work with Sherlock Holmes often enough," Lestrade replied.
Fudge nodded in satisfaction. "Do you think Mr. Holmes agrees with Dumbledore?"
"I'm not sure, but Sherlock and Dumbledore rarely see eye-to-eye," said Lestrade honestly. "Sherlock's too scientific and Dumbledore is, well, too Magic, I guess."
"Excellent. What about Mrs. Holmes?"
It took several seconds for Lestrade to realise the 'Mrs. Holmes' Fudge was talking about was John Watson.
"Joh… uh, Jay generally agrees with Dumbledore, as long as Sherlock admits he has a point," said Lestrade, wording his answer carefully. "But that was before. I don't think she knows what's been going on lately. Had a baby last year; you know how much time they take up."
"Ah, yes," said Fudge. "Yes, that's right … I've forgotten … but are Potter and Mrs. Holmes close?"
"Yeah, sure. You'd think she gave birth to him, they're so natural."
"Perfect," said Fudge triumphantly. "Mrs. Holmes is a sensible woman. It shouldn't be too difficult to make her see reason. Once she's convinced, getting Potter's support should be a cinch. Dumbledore won't have a leg to stand on."
Lestrade was of the opinion John and Harry would no more agree to this male cattle excrement than Sherlock would.
"It's going to be tough, making changes while there are foreign guests," Lestrade remarked. "Well, you do what you think you ought to do. Anything else you want to tell me?"
"No, that will be all. I expect a report from you soon, Lestrange."
Lestrade left, but not before giving Fudge a jaunty, two fingered salute.
Lestrade boarded the lift that could take him to the second floor. He headed straight to the Auror's Headquarters once the lift stopped and opened its doors. Scarlet-robed witches and wizards were flitting about or poring over reading materials in their cubicles inside the office. Lestrade spotted two wizards talking quietly to each other across the room, at the other side. One was a tall, black and bald wizard and the other an almost equally tall, thin and balding wizard, who still possessed some of his original bright red hair.
"There you are, Kingsley," said Lestrade, walking briskly towards the duo. "I've been looking for you—do you have any updates on the drug-runners case?"
"I'm still waiting for Weasley to respond to my question on his firelegs report," said Kingsley Shacklebolt. "I'm following up with him right now."
"If you had read my report you would know that the term is firearms," said Arthur coolly. Then he leaned closer and whispered, "If you can get away before seven, Molly's making meatballs."
"Great, I'll bring Ellen," said Lestrade quietly. Then in a louder voice, he said, "In other words, no. Can you lot hurry up please? Your delays are stalling my investigation."
The three men met again later in the evening, in Arthur and Molly's kitchen.
"So what did Fudge want?" Kingsley asked as they sat around the wooden table.
"He's putting me in charge of the film investigation," Lestrade answered. "He also hinted that he's sending someone to Hogwarts as an Inquisitor … he's expecting her to find evidence that Dumbledore was behind it all."
"He can't do that!" exclaimed Arthur, looking outraged. "Dumbledore didn't know Sherlock was plotting to broadcast it! He might have guessed, but he had no hand in it at all!"
"But that would mean this Inquisitor won't find any evidence against Dumbledore, since there isn't any to find," Kingsley pointed out.
"I have a feeling this Inquisitor person isn't above planting evidence," muttered Lestrade darkly. "Well, I'm the lead investigator, so I'll do what I can. We'll see how Fudge takes it when I don't give him the evidence he wants."
Kingsley grinned. "He'll take it. You're too posh for him not to."
"I am not posh. I don't want to be posh," Lestrade crabbed. "Just so you know: One of these days, I'm really going to shove a wand down the throat of the next person who calls me The Stranger. So intervene accordingly."
Arthur and Kingsley laughed. Lestrade joined them after telling everyone in the kitchen Fudge's (deeply misguided, doomed to failure) plan to convince Sherlock and John to join his cause against Dumbledore.
"Fudge meeting Sherlock," said Arthur, wide-eyed. "I almost feel sorry for Fudge."
"He actually met the Baker Street prats before," said Lestrade. "But they were playing roles. Sherlock needed to get some info out of Fudge for the Sirius Black case. It was the most awesome but creepy thing I've ever seen."
"I'd like to meet them," said Kingsley.
"Don't kill me afterwards," said Lestrade, only half-joking.
"If not Sherlock Holmes, I definitely want to meet Dr. Watson," said Kingsley. "She's the one on our unofficial blacklist of Muggles."
"You have a blacklist?"
"More like a list of repeat offenders," said Kingsley, smiling wryly. "Dr. Watson is on the top by a huge margin: sixteen obliviated Obliviators, Greg, sixteen! And no case of successful memory modification to boot."
Greg whistled. "Why did the guys try so hard for so long?"
"Wounded pride, mostly," said Kingsley. "No one wanted to believe a Muggle could trounce a wizard, let alone a small squad of them. But of course, she kept on trouncing them, so things only got worse…"
-oo00oo-
In the days following his return from St. Mungo's, Harry and his friends worked hard to convince as many people as they could that the LV rebirth broadcast was a record of a real event. They got a leg up when they discovered Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang, had fled Hogwarts overnight.
"He was a convicted Death Eater," Hermione was quick to inform the crowd gathered around Harry to ask him about Karkaroff. "But he made a bargain with the Ministry. They decided to let him go if he could tell them the identities of all the Death Eaters that were known to him. His testimony let the Aurors discover a mole within the Ministry of Magic itself! So if there's anyone who's afraid of You-Know-Who's return, it's him!"
Rumours went wild after this bit of information got out. The consensus was Karkaroff thought the footage was genuine and fled, since Lord Voldemort would go after him for betraying so many of his followers. Harry, as Sherlock had instructed, cautioned anyone who asked him about Karkaroff that just because Karkaroff thought the film was genuine, didn't necessarily mean the film really was a record of LV's return.
"I do think the possibility of it being real is high, though," he would add. "It takes a lot of money and effort to create a film that real-looking. I'm talking about hundreds of thousands of Galleons here. Who has that kind of money to spend? We can't rule out the possibility Karkaroff had other sources of information that let him know Vol- eh, You-Know-Who is really back, either. I mean, LV would summon all his followers to him, won't he, if he's back? Maybe that's how Karkaroff knew the film was real: he heard the summons."
There were, of course, plenty of detractors. Quite a lot of students bought the Ministry of Magic's stance that Miss Jackie was a prime suspect since she had the necessary access and ability to create and broadcast such a film. Harry's argument that very few people had the money to create a fake footage ended up backfiring on him, as he couldn't deny Miss Jackie had more than enough money to fund such an endeavor.
Luckily, Harry had Hermione Granger on his side.
"What about the motive?" Hermione argued when Seamus mentioned the Miss Jackie the culprit theory over Breakfast. "What good would it do to Miss Jackie if she pulled such a prank? Moreover, can you actually see her pulling a prank? A prank that—that tasteless?"
"She doesn't have much capacity for fun and games," George Weasley agreed. "And personally, I have trouble imaging her harming a fly…"
Still, many people held on to the belief Miss Jackie could've done it. One seventh year actually argued the reason why Harry wasn't considering Ms. Shin as a suspect was because she paid him well.
"Are you saying I want You-Know-Who back?" said Harry furiously when he heard this.
"I never said that," the seventh year said defensively at first, but then more boldly, "But I suppose you wouldn't worry about it even if he did. You probably think you can handle him again, since you got rid of him as a baby."
"Why would I want the man who killed my parents back?" growled Harry, as he felt himself raising his hackles. "You probably don't know since you've never lost your mother, but it's very comforting to know your mother's murderer got himself killed for what he did to her."
"How do you know I'm not an orphan? You're just assuming that I'm not!"
"Please," Harry sneered, shocking his own self at how much he sounded like Sherlock as he did so. "Your quills are new. You couldn't have bought them at Hogsmeade, we haven't been allowed there recently. You can't mail-order quills and if you bought them from someone else, you wouldn't have bought a whole bundle. Someone bought it for you and Owled it, then. It's your mother since the parcel that held the quills has 'Love, Mum' written on it."
The seventh year looked abashed as he turned red.
"Look, I don't want him back!" Harry shouted, before the seventh year could say anything. "But just because I don't want him back, doesn't mean I can assume he isn't! Reality won't adjust to my wants! And in case you haven't thought of this already: if it turns out LV really is back and we do nothing to prepare for this, we've got everything to lose because that'll only help him!"
Opinions remained sharply divided for the rest of the week. Harry and his friends tried to think of new ways that would shift the tide, but couldn't think of a line of argument that they haven't used already. Often times Harry felt like he was talking to a wall as people kept trying to argue against him, bringing up reasons he thought he'd already dismantled.
Then Monday morning came. Hermione received her copy of the Daily Prophet, which she had started to read very carefully and thoroughly. Harry and Ron didn't know why she bothered. The Prophet only told the Ministry of Magic's side of the news and ridiculed all its detractors.
"Harry," Hermione said suddenly. "Harry, you've got to read this."
"What is it?" said Harry quickly. "Did the Ministry change their mind?"
"No," said Hermione grimly. "Here, see for yourself."
Harry read the article Hermione shoved into his face.
New Hogwarts High Inquisitor
The Ministry of Magic has appointed Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge as High Inquisitor to Hogwarts, in accordance with the newly ratified Educational Decree Number Twenty-two. The appointment came swiftly after Hogwarts' current Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was ousted as Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards after several members of the committee raised questions over his leadership. Ms. Umbridge's primary task is ensuring Hogwarts has satisfactory teaching staff and apparatus.
"I feel much easier in my mind now that I know that Dumbledore is being subjected to fair and objective evaluation," said Mr. Lucius Malfoy from Wiltshire. "Many of us with our children's best interests at heart have been concerned about some of Dumbledore's eccentric decisions in the last few years and will be glad to know that the Ministry is keeping an eye on the situation."
"High Inquisitor?" said Harry blankly. "What is that?"
"It's a new position," said Hermione. "Fudge obviously created it so he can have someone loyal to him inside Hogwarts and give him an excuse to sack someone."
"…Like Dumbledore?"
"Yes."
Harry bit his lip. "What about Educational Decree Number twenty-two?"
"It's a new law. The Ministry passed it yesterday at around midnight," said Hermione.
Harry, Ron and Neville stared. "But yesterday was a Sunday! The Ministry doesn't hold sessions on weekends!" Ron protested.
"Of course they do," said Hermione exasperatedly. "Law makers do it all the time when they want to pass an unpopular law. It's easier since not everyone will show up. In this case, it looks like hardly anyone was notified Fudge was holding session. It says here Griselda Marchbanks and Tiberius Ogden, both active members of the Wizengamot, left their posts at the Ministry in protest against the Decree."
Harry had nothing to say after Hermione finished speaking. While he sat wordlessly, Ginny joined them at the Gryffindor table.
"Morning," said Ginny. "Hey, who is that?"
Harry looked at where she was pointing. His eyes first lit upon Professor Dumbledore, sitting in his high-backed golden chair at the centre of the long staff table, wearing deep-purple robes scattered with silvery stars and a matching hat. Dumbledore's head was inclined towards the woman sitting next to him, who was talking into his ear. She looked, Harry thought, like somebody's maiden aunt: squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Then she turned her face slightly to take a sip from her goblet and he saw a pallid, toad like face, a very wide, slack mouth and a pair of prominent, pouchy eyes.
"That must be Umbridge!" said Hermione.
"Who?" said Ginny.
"She's the new High Inquisitor of Hogwarts," said Hermione. "Minister Fudge appointed her last night."
"Nice cardigan," said Ron, smirking.
"Wonder what kind of person she is," said Neville thoughtfully.
Dumbledore introduced the witch eventually.
"We have a visitor today. Please join me and welcome Madam Dolores Umbridge, the new High Inquisitor of Hogwarts!"
There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause.
"Madam Umbridge is here to observe Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued. "So do not be alarmed if you see her in your classes—"
He broke off, looking enquiringly at Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Umbridge cleared her throat, "hem, hem," and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment. Then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No one had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."
Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish. It took Harry aback, as he was expecting her to croak. Also something about her voice and fluffy pink cardigan deeply grated him. While Harry tried to place his dislike, Umbridge gave another little throat-clearing cough ("hem, hem") and continued.
"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"
Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five-years-old.
"I am very much looking forward to getting to know as many of you as possible. I'm sure we will be good friends!"
Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.
"I'll be her friend as long as I don't have to borrow that cardigan," Parvati whispered to Lavender, and both of them lapsed into silent giggles.
Madam Umbridge cleared her throat again ("hem, hem"), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.
"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."
Madam Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawk-like, and Harry distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem" and went on with her speech.
"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"
Harry found his attentiveness ebbing, as though his brain was slipping in and out of tune, even though he knew he was supposed to pay attention to what Umbridge was blathering about. The quiet that always filled the Hall when Dumbledore was speaking was breaking up as students put their heads together, whispering and giggling. Over on the Ravenclaw table a group of fifth year girls were chatting animatedly. Meanwhile, at the Hufflepuff table Ernie Macmillan was one of the few still staring at Madam Umbridge, but he was glassy-eyed and Harry was sure he was only pretending to listen. Madam Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Harry had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, and Hermione seemed to be drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.
"… because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited. I promise to help you all to get there."
She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and Dumbledore stood up again before they could properly applaud.
"Thank you very much, Madam Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her.
"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice.
"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."
"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot."
"Like what?" said Ron blankly.
"She said 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged' and 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'."
"And?" said Ron impatiently.
"This means," said Hermione through gritted teeth, "The Ministry intends to interfere at Hogwarts."
The disquiet her statement generated followed them all the way out of the Great Hall.
Harry didn't see Umbridge afterwards until Thursday afternoon, at Defence Against the Dark Arts. He and his classmates had just finished cheering Professor Lupin's return to work, when they all heard the familiar 'hem, hem' at the door.
"Oh, why now?" Ron grumbled.
"Hello, Professor … Lupin, is it?" said Umbridge, as she clutched a clipboard between her stubby hands, each finger wearing a number of ugly, old rings. "Did you get my note?"
"Certainly," said Remus politely. "Do come in."
"Thank you," said Umbridge girlishly. "Now before I start my observation, I would like to say a few words to your students, if you don't mind."
Harry wished Remus would say no. Remus spread a hand out, in a gesture of 'go-ahead', but he was expressionless and said nothing.
Umbridge stood behind the podium. She was so short they could only see her broad face above it. She was wearing a tiny black velvet bow in her hair this time. Harry was reminded forcibly of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad.
"You might have heard that a certain Dark Wizard has returned. This is false," Umbridge announced in a sugary voice. "The footage that supposedly shows his return is a fake. So please do not listen to anyone who says otherwise, and please report to me if you encounter a person spreading such horrible lies."
"How do you know the film is a fake?" Harry asked.
There was a moment of silence while everyone stared at Harry, particularly Umbridge.
"The Ministry has people who can see right through that kind of horrible prank," said Umbridge. "Silly me, but for a teensy moment I thought you sounded doubtful, Mr. Potter! Surely you're not questioning the Ministry's judgment!"
"Actually I do," said Harry, drawing a gasp from Hermione. "The Ministry hasn't contacted Ms. Shin and she hasn't given them a report yet. So they can't know where the footage came from, or how it was transmitted and broadcasted over the Magical Mobile Network. How can anyone know whether the film is a fake or not if they don't know this?"
Umbridge went still for several seconds. Harry had a strong impression of being appraised by a malevolent toad.
"I never expected such impertinence," she said slowly. "Especially from you, Mr. Potter … Oh dear, I think I have no choice but to punish you. A few detentions should do the trick."
"You can't do that!" said Neville, surprising almost everyone. "You're not a teacher!"
"I'm the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts," said Umbridge in a high-pitched voice. "I received authority from the Minister of Magic himself to do whatever it takes to ensure Hogwarts is running properly. That's why I cannot allow such blatant disregard for authority to continue. Mr. Potter, come to my office at five o' clock."
"She even has her own office!" Hermione hissed after Umbridge left, not bothering to stay and observe. "She's no visitor!"
They had the most subdued Defence Against the Dark Arts class since they had Lupin as a teacher. When the bell rang, Remus held Harry back.
"I know you mean well, Harry," said Remus seriously. "I also think you said things that needed to be said."
"But?" said Harry.
"The timing and the way you said it undermined the message," Remus chided. "You're supposed to present yourself as a reasonable figure, remember?"
"But Umbridge was being unreasonable first!" said Harry angrily. "She didn't even bother to answer any of my questions! She just wanted me to shut up!"
"I know," Remus sighed. "Listen, Harry: you shouldn't expect any kind of reasonableness from Umbridge. She's here to push the Ministry's—Fudge's—agenda and she clearly intends to use any means to achieve it. So don't lose your temper over her. It will only hurt you. As for her being unreasonable," he smiled a bit, "if anything, that bolsters our position, because you would look far more sensible in comparison."
Harry left the classroom feeling equal parts encouraged and rueful. Both emotions ebbed away as five o' clock drew nearer. Harry kept wondering what Umbridge would have him do as he dreaded it.
Harry went to Umbridge's office at five before five. The first thing he noticed when he entered was the décor: The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each one residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolour kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Umbridge spoke to him. She told Harry his detention was to write lines using a black quill, her own, which had an unusually sharp point. The quill was laid across a sheet of parchment, which was placed on a small desk with a chair.
"I want you to write, I must not listen to lies," she told him softly.
"How many times?" Harry asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness.
"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go."
She moved over to her desk, sat down and bent over a stack of parchment. Harry raised the sharp black quill, and realised what was missing.
"You haven't given me any ink," he said.
"Oh, you won't need ink," said Madam Umbridge, with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.
Harry placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not listen to lies.
He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry's right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel—yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.
Harry looked round at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toad-like mouth stretched in a smile.
"Yes?"
"Nothing," said Harry quietly.
He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill on it once more, wrote I must not listen to lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time; once again, the words had been cut into his skin; once again, they healed over seconds later.
On and on it went. Harry did not ask when he would be allowed to stop. He did not even check his watch. He knew Umbridge was watching him for signs of weakness and he was not going to show any, not even if he had to sit there all night, cutting open his own hand with this quill…
"Come here," she said, after what seemed hours.
He stood up. His hand was stinging painfully. When he looked down at it he saw that the cut had healed, but that the skin there was red raw.
"Hand," she said.
He extended it. She took it in her own. Harry repressed a shudder as she touched him with her thick, stubby fingers.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" whispered Umbridge, clasping Harry's hand between both of hers. "You know, it can all stop if you just listened…"
Harry didn't reply, but glared at her fiercely.
"Well, if you didn't get the message this time, you might get it later," said Umbridge in that sickeningly sweet tone. "Tomorrow again at my office, Mr. Potter, the same time."
You won't last that long, Harry thought savagely as he stomped out of Umbridge's office.
-oo00oo-
Sherlock and John were at the sitting room table, watching a holographic video clip showing a person writing with black quill. Each stroke of the quill produced a cut on the writer's hand, which healed within seconds. Sherlock's expression resembled a mask, but his knuckles were white as they gripped the table's edge. John's pale face openly showed fury beyond words.
There was a sound of footsteps. Soon Lestrade was standing at the doorway. He saw what Sherlock and John were watching and pursed his lips.
"In behalf of the world of wizarding bastards, I apologise," said Lestrade, looking down at the floor.
"Don't bother, you're not responsible for them," muttered John in a low, dangerous voice. "What's up?"
Lestrade held out a copy of the Daily Prophet in lieu of an answer. Sherlock got up and took it. His entire posture and expression turned rigid as he read the front page article:
The Ministry Opens Second Film Inquiry
Barely a week has passed and another disturbing film was found posted on the Magical Mobile Network's public bulletin board. The footage shows a Hogwarts student forced to use a Blood Quill during detention. The film's content generated outrage within the wizarding world, with many parents demanding an explanation. Minister Fudge told the Daily Prophet he has tasked High Inquisitor Umbridge to find the guilty teacher and promised harsh measures will be taken against the responsible party for harming a student …
"The … the sheer nerve of them," said John furiously as she read the paper over Sherlock's elbow. "Anyone who has eyes can tell Umbridge arranged the detention! Just look at the hands!"
"I know," growled Lestrade. "The whole situation is pile of bollocks, but worse still, Fudge is getting away with it."
Sherlock, who had been completely still and silent so far, let out a dreadful curse and threw the Prophet into the fire.
"I will stop them," he murmured as he watched the newspaper burn.
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: ASIM!OOTP is taking giant strides! Umbridge is here! Writing her was worse than writing Lockhart! ARGH! ETA: I apologize for the roughness of the initial posting. The chapter has been since cleaned up a bit.