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 Five: Countdown
Harry and all of his friends left Hogwarts for the Easter holidays. Harry felt like a tight cord in his gut unwind as he boarded Hogwarts Express, and fell asleep as soon as he and his friends settled in an empty compartment.
He woke up some unaccountable time later. He noted Ron, Ginny and Neville were playing Exploding-snap, Hermione had her nose buried in a book titled From the Symposium of Magical Security, and Julia was poring over her phone.
"How long was I out?" Harry asked.
"About two hours," said Julia, looking up. "And don't worry about it. You looked like you needed the nap."
"We all had a bit of shut-eye," said Neville, whose eyebrows were singed off. "March was hard for everyone."
That was true. Hogwarts as a whole became very subdued since Umbridge entered it like a pink, toad-shaped Dementor, sucking out the life and vitality from the people around her, particularly the teachers. Professor Trelawney, the Divinations teacher, was having a particularly hard time at it, from what Neville told them. According to Neville, she often looked drunk and kept making hysterical comments about being too incompetent to do such-and-such a task in class after Umbridge submitted her inspection report.
Harry joined Ron, Ginny and Neville after a bit of stretching. After their second game, Hermione asked a question:
"Did Sherlock give you any updates?"
Ron froze a second in the middle of dealing the cards, Neville dropped the deck he was holding, and Ginny stared fixedly at Harry.
"The last call I had, he only talked about bees," said Harry.
Hermione frowned. "Bees? Is this some kind of code?"
Harry shook his head. "He literally talked about bees, as in the insect."
"…He's not thinking about the case at all?!" asked Hermione, looking thoroughly alarmed.
"No," said Harry, before adding quickly. "That means everything we can do for the case is done, so he doesn't have to think about it anymore."
Hermione let out a long breath, looking indignant. Harry supposed she would have trouble accepting Sherlock's ability to completely detach on command. Most people got frustrated at it—after all, the vast majority would fret over an unresolved high-stake case even when the winds were warm.
The train arrived at King's Cross station in due time. John, Sherlock (who was carrying Benedict in a sling) and Sirius were waiting at platform nine and three quarters, as well as Mr. Lestrade and Ron's parents. Mrs. Weasley gasped when she spotted Harry.
"Oh, Harry, dear, your hair!" she cried, pointing a shaky finger at it.
Harry ran a hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, it turned grey."
"I didn't realise it turned this grey," said John, staring rather pointedly, "Looks more than 80% white."
That comment made Harry feel more worried about the state of his hair. "Maybe I should dye it."
"You can try different colours," said Sirius, looking mischievous. "Why don't we go through the rainbow?"
Harry was all for it until he saw the looks on Hermione, Julia and Ginny's faces. Hermione was glancing sideways, and Julia and Ginny looked like as though were silently screaming: "NO!"
"Eh, maybe not," said Harry.
Sirius looked disappointed. "You know, your father would've considered it great fun."
"I don't," said Sherlock.
"I didn't mean you," snapped Sirius.
"Obviously," Sherlock sneered.
"Break it off, you two," growled Mr. Lestrade before Sirius could retort. "Some of us need to go home."
"Yes, we need to return you to your henpecked existence," drawled Sherlock.
Mr. Lestrade glared at him. "You know what? You can take a cab home, I un-invite you. John, take your baby."
Sherlock wrapped his arms around Benedict before John could take him out of his sling. While they struggled against each other, Harry couldn't help but notice there was a lump on John's jacket, right under left armpit. Considering the current situation, and the location and size of the hidden object, this could only mean one thing.
"I guess we're not safe yet," murmured Harry in the back of Mr. Lestrade car, after saying goodbye to the Weasleys, Hermione and Neville (Sherlock invited himself to the ride).
"Why do you say so?" asked Julia.
Harry told her. Julia blinked at him for a moment.
"You know, Harry, most fourteen-year-olds can't tell if someone is in possession of a hidden firearm," she said.
Harry shrugged. "Blame my parents."
They had lively drive through London. John asked about their term, and Harry and Julia immediately spoke abuse about Umbridge. Apparently Umbridge was as pleasant at the Ministry as she was at Hogwarts, because Mr. Lestrade joined in, too.
Mr. Lestrade dropped off everyone except Julia at Baker Street. Sirius went downstairs to his basement flat, muttering something about waiting for Remus. Harry, John and Sherlock (plus Benedict) went upstairs. Harry plopped his wheeled trunk next to the fireplace, Sherlock stopped by the kitchen, and John deposited Benedict into his enchanted high chair before everyone settled in the living room.
"We replaced your wardrobe," said Sherlock as he handed out the tea.
"Great, it only took a year," Harry muttered.
Sherlock glared at him briefly. "Wardrobes are a considerable investment, especially when you're a wizard. Go have a look."
"Now?" said Harry, startled.
"Yes, now," said Sherlock firmly.
So Harry went upstairs to his bedroom. There he found Dr. Robert shoving a stout wardrobe made of dark wood in the corner where Harry's old, broken wardrobe used to be. Harry inconsequently noted Dr. Robert wasn't dressed as badly as he normally did, when left on his own devises—the combination of white T-shirt, blindingly-blue jogging bottoms and black running shoes weren't too straining to the eyes.
"It's made of Walnut wood," said Dr. Robert when John, Sherlock and Benedict joined Harry at his bedroom.
"Don't answer questions I have no intention of asking," snapped Sherlock, which only made Dr. Robert grin.
"So you're a carpenter in your spare time?" said John.
"I don't make the cabinets personally," said Dr. Robert, in a tone that suggested he felt offended at John for thinking he possessed either the skills or the time to devote to carpentry.
"I thought we can't have one because we're a Muggle household!" said Harry.
"A non-magic person can't buy one in behalf of a magical family member if the household is primarily Muggle," Dr. Robert corrected. "That doesn't stop you from owning one, especially when I'm not charging you."
"Oh," said Harry. "Uh, thanks. But why are you—"
Dr. Robert ignored him and opened the wardrobe's door. Harry smelled a whiff of ozone.
"After you," said Dr. Robert, gesturing at the empty wardrobe's interior. "Just take one step in."
Harry stepped into the wardrobe, feeling a bit stupid as he stared at the wooden wall inches away from his nose. Then he took another step forward, and instead of hitting solid wood, he found himself plunged into darkness and his feet touching nothing.
Harry wasn't alone for long. Soon John, Sherlock and Dr. Robert joined him in the void, no longer dark thanks to the balls of white fire dancing around Dr. Robert's head.
"Spatial arbitrage," said Sherlock smugly. "We are in the in-between space. Unless our enemies know where we are headed—in this case, we are headed to nowhere in particular—they can't access here. Therefore, it precludes any and all eavesdropping attempts."
"But if we're going to nowhere in particular, doesn't that mean we're stuck here?" asked Harry.
"What is the best place to head to when you don't know where you ought to go?" asked Sherlock.
Harry thought about it. "…Home?"
"Yep," said Dr. Robert, nodding. "Just so you know, I made these wardrobes to take you back home if or when you enter the in-between space without any destination in mind."
Harry nodded slowly. "So if I take a step forward…"
"You'll walk out of the same wardrobe as you stepped into," said Dr. Robert. "Bit of a mind-screw, yeah?"
Harry certainly felt like his head was spinning. Floating as though he was in zero-gravity certainly didn't help.
"So why are we here?" asked Harry uncomfortably.
"To talk about finances," said Sherlock. "Do you know why Jacqueline is selling the Magical Mobile Network?"
"Besides her getting married and the work involved killing her slowly, no," said Harry. Then he looked at Dr. Robert, "Um, congratulations."
"Thank you," said Dr. Robert twitchily.
Harry hesitated for a second. There was something he wondered about, ever since he heard the (un)happy announcement. Did the engagement mean Dr. Robert figured out a way to…?
"Yes, I figured out a way to teach you Dao-ga," said Dr. Robert. "Your mother approved the training. I'll get back to you on that later. Your father looks like he can't wait to pontificate his brilliance."
"Yeah, go ahead and tell us, Sherlock," said John indulgently.
Sherlock glowered at them all before he started speaking.
"The Ministry of Magic has been coveting the MMN since it started," Sherlock said. "Bringing a profit of over a million Galleons a month at the paltry expense of thirty-eight thousand Galleons a year, it is a company whose profitability is without peer. The Ministry knew its potential and thus tried to acquire it through legal technicalities. When they failed to do so, the Ministry did its best to milk a share of the profits by imposing and increasing number of regulatory laws, particularly in regards to Floo powder and IT usage."
Harry nodded. Though he had little knowledge of the business side of the MMN, Ron often complained about how the Ministry kept changing the laws regarding Floo powder, just recently imposing a commission tax on any magical transport/communication method that used Floo powder as a medium.
"The recent scandal gave the Ministry ample opportunity to meddle directly," Sherlock went on. "The restrictions they can and will impose in the name of avoiding future scandals will make the running cost and legal bother unbearable. Hence Jacqueline made the decision to cut off the company before the Ministry has time to ratify these restrictions so they won't encumber her in the future."
"But that's letting them win!" said Harry indignantly.
"Certain sacrifices are necessary," said Sherlock sternly. "Think carefully, Harry: The MMN going on sale now is a golden opportunity for the Ministry of Magic—and in extension LV—to gain full control. But there is a problem: even at a discount, the Magical Mobile Network is enormously expensive."
"How much is Jacqueline asking?" John asked.
"Twelve million Galleons," said Mr. Lestrade, who suddenly appeared in the in-between space. "That's roughly half the Ministry's entire annual revenue."
Harry gaped at him and John whistled. "There is no way the Ministry can afford that," said John.
"Nope," said Mr. Lestrade, grinning rakishly.
"The Ministry still has ways to raise money, though none of their options are wise," said Sherlock. "They could try to buy on margin and get a loan from Gringotts, but that would alert the Goblins, and we can reasonably expect the bank to do their best to buy the MMN themselves. In fact, if the news of the sale goes out, a veritable storm of potential buyers will emerge from the international market. Therefore the Ministry has to move quickly and completely in secret in order to secure the purchase."
"Couldn't they get a loan without telling Gringotts what they need the money for?" asked Harry.
"The Goblins won't loan any money to the Ministry," said Mr. Lestrade. "They're pissed off at them because of Ludo Bagman. They think the Ministry helped him escape so they can cover up the fact he skimmed off Ministry funds to pay off his personal debts."
"What if they use the Imperius Curse to force Miss Jackie to just hand it over?" Harry asked again.
"They can't," said Sherlock, smirking. "The Ministry wasted their one and only opportunity when they enchanted Jacqueline to make her cooperate—as if she wouldn't, even at her normal state. With her father understandably on the warpath, they will dare not try again. That leaves…"
"…Private loans," said John, while Harry struggled to think. "Can't you imagine it happening? The Ministry can offer an underhand deal to the rich and powerful, promising them a slice of the profits in exchange for investment money. Fudge is already in cahoots with Lucius Malfoy, so I wouldn't be surprised if Fudge had a bunch of private meetings with him recently."
"He had," Mr. Lestrade confirmed. "Arthur's twin boys gave me this thing called Extendable Ears— made eavesdropping into the Minister's office easy-peasy. Anyway, I recorded all the meetings. Sounded like all the 'reformed' Death Eaters are pitching into the deal."
John smirked. "So when are you going to make this public?"
"After my next press conference," said Mr. Lestrade, grinning back. "I've got one scheduled before the deal the Ministry signed goes in effect. What I'm going to say is not going to make the Ministry look good."
"So we've got a humiliation conga line going. Nice," said John.
Harry clutched his head as he felt as though his mind was blown.
So this was Sherlock's plan … offer to the Ministry of Magic the much coveted Magical Mobile Network when it was in turmoil— which they themselves generated to show Lord Voldemort's return— so the Ministry would think they are getting the company at a bargain price, even when the offering price was well beyond their means. Rather than pass the opportunity, Voldemort would order his Death Eaters—Lucius Malfoy— to offer to finance the buyout to Fudge or Fudge would offer the deal to Mr. Malfoy… either way, the result would be the same. The Wizarding World would rise in anger against such blatant corruption, and call for the Death Eaters involved to be imprisoned. That would leave Lord Voldemort almost completely without resources!
There was one problem, however.
"But we're going to lose the MMN," said Harry.
"We will," said Sherlock. "But we can more than afford to lose it. Ask your friend Ron why."
Harry nodded slowly. Dr. Robert made thoughtful humming noise.
"I wonder if this is what the guys in the FBI felt like before Watergate," he remarked.
-oo00oo-
About an hour after the meeting at Baker Street (sort of), Ron Weasley entered his twin brothers Fred and George's room at the Burrow. He managed to dodge the self-Propelling Custard Pie, which flung itself at Ron's face the moment he opened the door, but then he got drenched under a localized rainstorm when the Weather in a Bottle perched on the doorframe tipped over.
"Why'd you booby trap your room?" asked Ron furiously.
"Why'd you enter without knocking?" George shot back.
"Our little Ronnie-kins has no manners," said Fred, shaking his head. "Perhaps we should teach him some."
"Prats," growled Ron as mopped his face. "I've half a mind to not tell you Miss Jack wants to invest in your shop."
There was a short pause while Fred and George goggled at Ron, who took the time to shut the door behind him.
"…Miss Jack wants to invest in our joke shop?" Fred repeated, looking flabbergasted.
"Yeah," said Ron. "You two can talk to her later, but she'll probably give you whatever you ask as long as you show her why you need it."
"She's mental," Fred said in an almost awed voice.
"She is, a bit," said Ron. "But she's not stupid. If she thinks you're worth investing, you are. So just take it. Just don't tell mum."
The twins stared at him.
"So how is it going to work?" George asked.
"The joke shop will be yours," Ron said. "But you're going to hire one of Miss Jack's businesses to run it."
"She has more than one?" said Fred.
Ron nodded. "Yep."
"How many does she have?" asked George.
"Three, if you count the one she'll launch this week," said Ron.
"What is it?" asked Fred.
"It's an instant delivery service," said Ron. "The basic idea is … customer orders stuff from a virtual store on the MMN network, the owner of the virtual store receives the order, puts the merchandise in a box and then sends the box to the customer through the MMN, at which point they receive payment. The customer gets box and tada, they have what they ordered."
There was a short pause.
"That's… really brilliant," muttered George. "It's like a mail-carrier service without owls … and a lot faster."
"Basically," said Ron.
"I guess she wants us to test it out?" said Fred shrewdly. "I suppose that makes sense, since it'll make money from the sellers. It'll do as well as the quality of the sellers, eh?"
"Uh-huh," said Ron. "She calls the company 'The Magic Egg', by the way. No, that's not the final name. I'm pushing for Zing ®."
George nodded. "So what's the third company?" he asked.
"Magi Information Technology Solutions … MIT-S for short," Ron said. "On paper, the Magical Mobile Network pays MIT-S for their muggle technology services. In practice, Miss Jack handles everything."
"Why bother separating the two?" asked Fred.
"The MMN isn't the only client MIT-S has; Gringotts is one," Ron answered.
"Why does Gringotts need Muggle technology?" George asked, frowning.
"Gringotts has a branch in the Muggle world," Ron explained. "They use it as a front to exchange their Muggle money to gold. It ran into problems these past few years because all Muggle banks use computers and Gringotts needed to do the same to maintain cover. The goblin in charge of opening a vault for the MMN asked me if they could hire Miss Jack to set something up for them. Long story short, Miss Jack started MIT-S to manage Gringotts Bank's muggle technology requirements."
Fred and George nodded.
"I suppose it wouldn't make sense to handle Muggle Technology under a wizarding telephone company," said Fred. "Now how does Miss Jack find the time to run three businesses?"
"She doesn't have to do much for the MIT-S," said Ron. "She hired a bunch of Muggles who do most of the work."
"Isn't that expensive?"
"It is," said Ron. "But MIT-S is still super-profitable. I'm not sure how or why. Miss Jack tried to explain it to me, but all I got is that the company is a combination of a bank and a library— the clients pay Miss Jack huge sums to store their information and move it around. Anyway, the MIT-S keeps track of all the MMN customer accounts, calls and whatnot."
Both Fred and George abruptly went still.
"Wait a minute," said George slowly. "Does this mean the Magical Mobile Network is only as good as the MIT-S?"
"Yeah," said Ron blandly.
"Is the MIT-S under contract?" asked Fred.
"No, they can fire their clients at will," said Ron.
Identical evil grins spread across the twins' faces.
"Would the MIT-S provide their services to the MMN if the Ministry of Magic owns it?" George asked.
"Probably not," said Ron, shrugging.
Fred and George nodded. Then they placed a hand over their respective hearts solemnly.
"Ron, I'm think we can finally acknowledge you as our brother," said Fred. "We've been denying it, you know."
Ron frowned, "For how long?"
"Weeks."
"Months."
"Years…"
"Gits," huffed Ron.
-oo00oo-
In a quiet residential area in USA, thousands of miles away from Magical Britain and its turmoil, there was a man and a woman quietly sitting next to each other on a couch. Their hands were tightly clasped, though they neither spoke nor looked at each other. Instead they kept their eyes affixed to the expansive white wall opposite to them, where one could see two projections.
The first projection showed a handsome middle-aged man with white-hair, who was seated behind a golden plaque that the bore the name DCI Lestrade. The man announced to his unseen audience that the controversial footage showing the apparent resurrection of Lord Voldemort ("He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named") originated from the hidden cameras the Department of Magical Law Enforcement installed in Little Hangleton, a small village in Northern England. They had put it there for a case involving a Muggle named Frank Bryce, who had been killed by the Killing Curse last year, but completely forgotten about it.
The second projection was completely black, but there were voices coming from the source of the projection. An anxious-sounding man rambled at length how expensive the purchase was. A girlish voice assured him it was bargain, the owner merely asked for half a year's worth of revenue, and the Ministry would recuperate the expense in no time, especially since the business would be in better hands. The first man retorted, "We would've never had to spend so much if you, Dolores, just let Miss Shin cooperate on her own initiative, seeing as she had the personality of a doormat. I will have your head, Dolores," the first man continued fiercely, "if this turns out to be another mistake; your past ones have been costly to cover. And though I won't inquire how you secured Jacqueline's cooperation the first time, I won't cover you if it goes public." At which point a drawling voice said, "It was all very unfortunate, but Minister, you still achieved your objective, and I am very glad to have been able to help you out."
"Robert," the woman said abruptly. "Even if You-Know-Who wasn't a factor, I would've…"
"I know," the man named Robert said softly. "You know I know, Jacqueline."
The two fell silent again. The projections continued to show their footages in repeat. In the background, next to the projectors, a rack of servers and several desktop computers blinked and hummed.
When the clock hanging on an adjacent wall turned seven, Robert looked at Jacqueline and said, "It's time."
Jacqueline nodded once. She released the hand clutching Robert's, silently walked over to one of the desktops— the one connected to a monitor— and typed something rapidly on the accompanying keyboard. Then she paused for a second, a thin finger poised.
Then she pressed enter.
"It's done," Jacqueline murmured.
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: I'm not done with Umbridge. Nope.
I went a bit overboard ironing out the details of wizarding world's economy, UK magical population, and Ministry budget. In case you're wondering about the numbers, here is how I got them:
Various estimates for the British Wizarding World population range from 10,000 to 60,000 (JKR once said the UK has three thousand wizards at an interview, but doesn't make sense). Based on the lower estimate of just over ten thousand, I decided Jacqueline has around 9000 domestic users with an additional 2000 international customers (a very modest size for an enterprise). Like most mobile phone companies, Jack offers a variety of plans, but most opt for the 5G/month plan ($41/month). So that's 550K of revenue a month just from telephony. Her users can subscribe to the news service and a basic form of TV (Jeremy ended up opening the sport channel after all) with an additional 4-5G a month. Hence the monthly revenue of the MMN is 1Million.
The 38K expense figure is what a mid-size IT company in the US would spend annually. Jack would probably spend considerably less in operating costs since she doesn't have to run a website and doesn't employ a lot people, but she pays huge sums in taxes because of Ministry regulations. Now speaking of the Ministry…
It was hard to think up a reasonable number as the annual revenue for the Ministry of Magic since its government, and there is virtually no data on how wizards and witches are taxed. In the end I just used the annual revenue of UK from previous years and divided it by 5566, since Muggles outnumber Wizards by 5,566:1. I admit this is arbitrary.