Ten Years Later: The Financial Diviner
Title: Ten Years Later: The Financial Diviner
Author: kanedax
Spoilers: Deathly Hallows & Previous Chapters
Characters: Parvati & Padma Patil, Bridget Wenlock, a few OCs
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 4,217 words
Summary: Of finances and fortune-telling
Notes: I know next to nothing about stock-trading, economics, the financial market as a whole. So this is probably a pretty BS chapter to anyone working for Charles Schwab. Also, Bridget Wenlock is Rowling’s creation (Wizard of the Month, Aug 05). I only expanded her from her Arithmantic roots.
I own these characters. All others belong to JK Rowling.
Everybody’s Pregnant / Previous Chapters / Special Delivery
Ten years ago, if a Muggle saw another Muggle walking down the street talking to themselves, they would think that the talker was either insane or… well… insane.
In the year 2008, most Muggles know better. Just so long as the person has a piece of glowing plastic in their ear, the odds are that the Muggle is speaking on the mobile phone, using Bluetooth or something similar.
If they don’t have a piece of glowing plastic in their ear, and if they’re rambling incoherently, they’re still probably insane.
Some Muggles would argue that most people are insane, especially the ones that stick the pieces of glowing plastic into their ear, but that’s a discussion for a story that’s not this one.
But if a Muggle saw a smartly-dressed businesswoman walking down the street, without a piece of glowing plastic in her ear, talking animatedly to the mirror in her compact cosmetic case, they would probably try to make their way to the other side of the pavement, just to be safe.
Wizards and witches, of course, knew better.
“We’re not having this conversation again,” Parvati Patil said to her mirror image as she walked through Diagon Alley.
“Oh, come on!” said her twin sister, Padma, speaking to Parvati from the two-way mirror set in her office in Birmingham. “Why not?”
“Because this is the fourth co-worker you’ve tried to set me up with in the last year!” Parvati replied.
“So?”
“So I’m not interested!”
“But he’s really funny,” Padma insisted. “And… and he’s smart, and he’s well-off.”
“Well-off I don’t need,” Parvati said. “I’m making enough money to live my entire life by myself.”
“Yeah, well,” Padma said, hesitating, “a little more wouldn’t hurt.”
“I don’t need a Sugar Daddy.”
“Fine,” Padma said quickly. “But still… give him a chance, would you?”
“Look,” Parvati sighed. “If you think he’s so high and mighty, why don’t you go on a date with him?”
“Ew.”
“Wait, did you just say ‘ew’?” Parvati asked as she walked into the pastry shop across the street from her office.
“No, I didn’t,” Padma said defensively.
“Yes, you did,” Parvati said. “Can I have a regular bagel, plain cream cheese, please?” The clerk behind the counter nodded, and Parvati returned her attention to the mirror as he prepared her breakfast. “Why are you trying to hook me up with someone who makes you go ‘ew’?”
“He’s just… he’s just not my type, is all.”
“We’re twins,” said Parvati. “Aren’t we supposed to have the same type?”
“I don’t think that’s how that works,” said Padma. “Besides, he’s a co-worker. I couldn’t date someone I had to work with.”
“Seems to be working out with Neville just fine,” said Parvati. “You should take his example.”
“Stop trying to hook me up with the guy I’m trying to hook you up with,” Padma said angrily.
“The one that makes you go ‘ew’?”
“I didn’t mean that…”
“So what’s his name, anyway?”
“Peter.”
“Thank you,” Parvati said to the clerk, and set down six sickles on the counter. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” the clerk said with a nod.
“So what do you call Mr. Ew anyway?” asked Parvati as she left the pastry shop. “Stinky Pete?”
“Of course not!” said Padma. “He smells just fine.”
“And what’s his nickname, then?”
“Peter Cottontail,” Padma said quietly.
“Big ears?”
“And bigger buck teeth.”
Parvati shook her head. “You’re running out of options, aren’t you?”
“Oh, come on,” said Padma, “he’s not that bad…”
“How many people in your office have you not tried setting me up with?”
“I haven’t tried setting you up with Mr. Thompson!”
“Mr. Thompson,” Parvati said. “Your boss.”
“Right!”
“The eighty-year-old with dentures?”
“Yes?”
“And a liver spot on his forehead in the shape of a humpback whale?”
“See, I’m not trying to hook you up with every available guy.”
“Thank God for small favors,” Parvati said with a roll of her eyes as she approached the door to her office building. WENLOCK INVESTMENTS was emblazoned above the entry. On both sides of the arch hung a bronze plaque with Wenlock’s logo, a W and an I. The right side of the W was altered to look like the number seven, and below were the words est. 1272.
“Look, Parvati, you know how it is,” Padma continued as Parvati entered the building. “We’re the only Patil kids. Mum and Dad want grandkids, and I want a niece or a nephew to play with.”
“And you can’t have your own children?” asked Parvati. “Because you know I’m not interested.”
“Nah,” said Padma. “I just want to be around for the good stuff. Not interested in diapers and waking up at two in the morning to have a kid suck on my tits.”
“You know I’m at work now, right?” asked Parvati, glancing around nervously. The entryway was empty, so the only one giving her and her twin sister an uncomfortable look was the portrait of the company’s founder, Bridget Wenlock, a bespectacled witch with wild black hair and earrings in the shape of 7s. Parvati gave her an apologetic shrug before stepping into the elevator.
“Sorry,” said Padma as the gate closed and the elevator began to rise. “You’re just my last hope.”
“And because of that, I’m tempted to go lesbian, just to make you shut up about it.”
“Oooh, you could gay adopt!”
“I was being sarcastic,” said Parvati, leaning against the back wall of the elevator. “And is gay adopt even the politically-correct term?”
“I hear Luna’s still available,” Padma continued. “Maybe I could try to hook you two up?”
“Luna’s in Siberia for the next year,” said Parvati. “And no.”
“But you’d make such a cute couple!”
“What part of ‘I was being sarcastic’ didn’t you get?”
“Okay, okay...”
“And don’t even make me remind you again that we’re twins,” said Parvati. “If me and Luna make a cute couple, than you and Luna make a cute couple.”
“I said okay!” Padma said, clearly uncomfortable with taking as good as she gave.
“Anyway, I really should get going,” said Parvati as the elevator gate slid open onto the plain office lobby. “I have a client scheduled bright and early, and I have to prepare.”
“Fair enough,” said Padma, who still seemed down that Parvati wasn’t accepting the recommendation of Peter Cottontail. “See you this weekend?”
“As always,” said Parvati. “Love you, sis.”
“Love you, too,” Padma said, and the mirror went back to showing Parvati’s reflection. Parvati closed the compact and approached the front desk.
“Good morning, Miss Patil,” said the receptionist.
“Morning, Judy,” said Parvati. “How was your night?”
“Not bad,” said Judy. “Same old, you know how it is.”
“That I do.”
“Your eight o’clock is waiting for you in your office.”
“Already?” Parvati said, glancing at her watch. “It’s quarter to.”
“He got here early,” said Judy with a shrug. “I thought I’d send him in to wait for you.”
“Thank you very much,” Parvati said with a sigh. “I was hoping to talk to Terrence before the client got here.”
“Terrence actually isn’t in yet,” said Judy, flipping through the company appointment schedule. “Should I send a memo to you when he’s in?”
“No, there’s no need,” said Parvati, looking toward the door to her office. “I suppose I won’t be able to interrupt the meeting either way. When he shows he shows.”
“Alright, then,” said Judy. “Oh, before you go. We’re putting in a new supply order this morning. Anything you need stocked up?”
“I don’t know,” said Parvati. “I’ll need to check my inventory. When do you need to know by?”
“Nine?”
“Bloody hell,” Parvati muttered. The meeting would take at least that long. “Okay, off the top of my head I know I’ll need more tea leaves. Umm, some sage. Wishbones.”
“Leaves, sage, wishbones,” Judy muttered, scribbling down the notes. “Anything else?”
“Hmm,” Parvati said, putting her hand on her hip. “Actually, what the hell? I’m below budget for this quarter. Put me down for an order of Etteilla’s new tarot cards, the 1400 model. Mine are starting to wear out, and Wizard Financial Weekly says these new ones are terribly accurate.”
“Etteilla model 1400,” Judy said, writing some more. “Sounds nice. Etteilla’s always quality.”
“They should last me a few more years,” said Parvati, tapping her knuckles on the desk. “Wish me luck.”
“Always do,” said Judy, returning to her work as Parvati opened the door to her office.
Parvati’s initial read of her client, tall, middle-aged, with a hint of gray at his temples, was that he was terribly confused.
Parvati supposed that had a lot to do with his surroundings. Compared to the sterile environment of the lobby, Parvati Patil’s plush office, with its silk wall hangings, tasseled cushions instead of chairs, and the smell of incense to cover any of the dozen or so odors that would fill her office during the day, would come as some surprise. Add to that the anachronistic stock ticker in the corner (currently silent, as the market didn’t open until eight), and Parvati could understand why the man would feel like he had entered strange territory.
But it was more than that.
This guy’s really new to this, Parvati thought. His aura’s screaming beginner. An impatient beginner at that. Bad combination.
“Good morning, Mr. Smithwick,” Parvati said, closing the door behind her. Smithwick, who was pacing back and forth, turned at the sound of her voice.
“Um, good morning, Miss…”
“Patil. Parvati Patil. I’m one of the two Financial Diviners assigned to your portfolio. Take a seat, please.”
Smithwick looked around the room. “There aren’t any chairs.”
“The cushions should suffice,” said Parvati. “But, of course, I could conjure a few chairs if it would make you feel more comfortable.”
“Oh, no, the pillows should be fine,” said Smithwick. “I don’t want to offend you and your Indian customs.”
Oh, good, Parvati thought with an internal eye roll, one of those types.
“I can assure you, Mr. Smithwick,” Parvati said patiently, “That most Financial Diviners keep a similar office. When you meet with Mr. O’Malley you’ll find that his office is nearly identical. It’s for practical purposes, as comfort and soft edges help create a stronger Eye.”
“An eye, right,” said Smithwick, plopping himself down on one of the cushions. Parvati pulled her wand from the pocket of her business dress robes before sitting down across from him and waving the wand on the wooden surface. A manila envelope appeared in front of her and flipped open.
“Okay, Mr. Smithwick,” Parvati said, flipping through the papers. “I’ve studied your initial forms. I have some ideas about what stocks would work well for you when compared to birth order, astrological position, and eye color.” She removed from the stack three pages filled with names of companies. “What we’re here for today is to narrow this list down. To try to figure out what stocks will be best for your portfolio in relation to what you want to get out of them and when.”
“Just like Muggle stocks?” asked Smithwick. “My Dad was a stockbroker on the LSE, I have some idea about how to trade already.”
“In a fashion, yes,” said Parvati. “However, Financial Divining is a more accurate, much more successful analysis of someone’s portfolio. Muggle stockbrokers look merely at future trends, past performance, simple things like that. We go much deeper. I assume you’ve read our brochure?”
“Skimmed it over,” said Smithwick nervously.
“Excellent,” said Parvati, pulling out a sheet from the bottom of the folder. “Then could I have you sign this please?”
“What is it?” Smithwick asked, taking the paper.
“Simply legalese,” said Parvati, conjuring a quill and a bottle of ink. “It says that you recognize that our recommendations don’t guarantee success, and that you won’t hold us liable for any losses that your portfolio might accrue over time.”
“Losses?” asked Smithwick. “Why would there be losses? Aren’t you all supposed to see the future?”
“There is always risk in trading,” Parvati explained. “Wenlock Investments has never claimed that Divination is the answer when trying to find successful companies and stocks. We simply use our findings as tools and guideposts in order to give our customer what they want. The return on investment for portfolios using Financial Diviners is double that of portfolios that go it on their own. But it’s still not 100%.”
“Well, maybe I should take my business somewhere that can assure a profitable investment,” Smithwick said with a sniff.
“You could,” said Parvati, “But I wouldn’t suggest it. Most of those companies were conjured in the last one or two hundred years. Three times as many have dried up because their Diviners said only what their customers wanted to hear. Guaranteed that their prophecies were one hundred percent accurate, and left most of their clients in financial ruin because of it.
“Wenlock has been around for over seven hundred years,” she continued. “We’re one of the most successful companies on the London Galleon Exchange, and are respected from Tokyo to New York. Because we don’t guarantee success. We just guarantee the highest success rate available, and the best Diviners this side of the Oracles of ancient Greece. Will that do?”
Smithwick stared at Parvati in surprise. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, that’ll do.”
“Excellent,” said Parvati. “Now, if you could have a cup of tea, we will begin.”
“Oh, no, none for me, thanks,” Smithwick said as he signed the contract. “I try to avoid caffeine this early in the morning.”
“I insist,” said Parvati, conjuring a kettle and a teacup. “It’s part of the process.”
“Process?”
“Trying to discover with method of Divination works best with your aura,” said Parvati, pouring a steaming cup. “For the next few weeks Mr. O’Malley and I will be trying numerous styles during our meetings with you. Once we find one that clicks, it will be the one we go with from this point forward. Reading tea leaves is one of those styles.”
“Oh,” said Smithwick bashfully. “Alright. Sorry about that.”
“No need to apologize,” said Parvati. “Now, Mr. Smithwick, what do you want out of your portfolio?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell me that?” Smithwick said over his cup.
“Of course I can,” said Parvati. “But we like to hear it from the client himself.”
“I see…”
“Again, it’s all for risk avoidance,” Parvati explained. “I could read that someone wanted to take a bigger risk to get a bigger reward. But if that stock failed, then he could come back and say that he didn’t want that, and it would be his word against ours. This way, at least, we’ll be on the same page.”
“Fair enough, then,” said Smithwick. “It’s my granddaughter.”
“Yes?” Parvati said, taking the quill and beginning to write notes.
“Yeah, my granddaughter,” Smithwick repeated. “My daughter’s daughter. Just born five months ago. I love my daughter to death; she’s a wonderful girl. But this man that she married… bloody hell, he’s a waste.”
“I see,” said Parvati, continuing her notes.
“So I’m hoping to find some investments that would give Sally a little bit of a cushion,” Smithwick repeated. “For when Hogwarts comes calling in ten years. I don’t trust her husband to save a single knut between now and then. He loves his gambling, loves his nights out on the town. But no matter what I say, Sally just won’t listen.”
“So you want to be the benevolent father, sweeping in to save the day when it comes time to pick up the books and the broomsticks?”
“You could put it that way, yeah.”
“Sounds like a decent enough reason,” said Parvati. Even though your aura’s telling me that you wouldn’t mind a little bit of a windfall in the meantime to add a second story to your house. But she pushed that out of her mind. Only do what the client requested…
“So we’re looking at a ten-year window,” she continued, conjuring an abacus onto the table. “You want something low-risk, with long-term dividends.”
“At the least, yeah,” said Smithwick.
“And how much are you willing to trust your daughter’s husband?” Parvati asked. “If he’s able to finance your granddaughter’s schooling when the time comes, do you still want to be able to take the full brunt of the bill instead of him?”
“Well, I don’t think he’ll be able to…”
“Don’t be so sure,” said Parvati. “We’re able to read your immediate family as well. If you’re raising these funds specifically for your grandchild’s welfare, we could certainly recommend something with an even lower risk if the Eye sees future success for your son-in-law.”
“You’re saying he’s going to turn his life around?” Smithwick said, perking up.
“I can’t say one way or another at this time,” Parvati said, continuing to write notes. “We here at Wenlock try our best to focus on your financial situation, and not our clients’ personal and family lives. The future isn’t set in stone. Giving away too much information, positive or negative, might have an adverse affect on your financial future.”
“Oh,” said Smithwick, showing a little disappointment.
“If you wish to know more about your personal future I would suggest one of the many Diviners in Diagon Alley,” Parvati said. “I could recommend one to you, if you’d like, although I must add that their success rate is considerably lower than ours.”
“No, no, that’s fine.”
“Wonderful,” said Parvati, standing up and walking over to a chest in the corner of her office. “Now, if you could just relax, today we’re going to try a little gastromancy.”
“You’re going to study my farts?”
“Oh, God, no,” said Parvati, opening the chest and digging through the contents. “Gastromancy is divination with a crystal ball.”
“Odd name,” said Smithwick, blushing slightly.
“Talk to the Greeks,” said Parvati as she pulled her crystal ball from the chest. “Most Divination methods are named after-“
As Parvati stood, she felt something smack into the back of her head. Turning around, she found a paper airplane, which had flown in through the open gap above her office door, crumpled on the ground.
Terrence must be in, Parvati thought as she picked up the memo, I told Judy to hold all memos until…
Then she got a look at what was written.
Parvati Patil, the note read,
Please see me in my office immediately. Reschedule all current appointments, as well as any upcoming in the next two hours.
Gregory Gallen
Chief Security Officer
Wenlock Investments
“Damn it,” she muttered. What’s this all about?
“Miss Patil?” asked Smithwick. “Are you going to use the crystal thing?”
Parvati looked down at the crystal, which was cradled at her side like a Quidditch player cradling a Quaffle.
“Unfortunately, no,” said Parvati. “Something’s come up, and we’ll have to reschedule for another day.”
“Am I going to be charged for this meeting?”
“You’ll have to speak to Judy about that,” said Parvati. “But if you could finish your tea and leave the cup on the table. Speak to Judy on your way out, and she’ll make a new appointment, and will also give you a notebook. I’d like you to take notes on all of the dreams you have between now and the next meeting.”
“More procedure?”
“You’d be amazed how accurate oneiromancy can be with the right Object,” Parvati said, putting the crystal ball back in the case. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Smithwick. Have a safe trip home.”
“Miss Patil,” said Gregory Gallen, a large intimidating wizard, as Parvati entered his office. “Please sit down.”
“What’s the situation, Mr. Gallen?” asked Parvati. “You just interrupted an important meeting with a new client.”
“You got him to sign the contract, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then you don’t have to worry,” said Gallen, sitting down behind his desk. “He’s legally bound to not go anywhere else without a formal discharge.”
“Well, I know that, but…”
“Are you aware of any of the recent activities of Mr. Terrence O’Malley?” Gallen asked, opening his own manila folder.
Parvati sat at a loss. In the ten years she had worked with Wenlock, this is the first time she ever had any official relations with the CSO. Gets right to it, doesn’t he? “In what way?”
“Has he spoken to you about any recent stock purchases?” Gallen continued. “Financial transactions?”
“Well, we share many clients, Mr. Gallen…”
“I mean personal stock purchases.”
“No, he hasn’t,” said Parvati.
“Have you received any stock advice from Mr. O’Malley in the past?”
“No, I haven’t,” said Parvati. “I keep all of my investments in bank certificates through Gringott’s. I don’t own any stock myself. I know it’s a conflict of interest. What’s going on? Shouldn’t you be speaking to Terrence about all of this?”
“Terrence O’Malley is no longer an employee of Wenlock Investments.”
Parvati’s eyes widened. “What?”
“He was terminated last night,” said Gallen. “He’s currently being investigated by the company and by the Ministry for illicit transactions.”
“Illicit transactions like what?” asked Parvati.
“Illicit transactions like Microsoft,” said Gallen angrily, reading from the folder. “And Sysco.”
“What are those?” asked Parvati. “I’ve never heard those names on the Galleon Exchange.”
“That’s because they’re not on the Galleon Exchange.”
“What do you…? Oh, bloody hell.” Parvati said, sitting up. “Those are Muggle companies, aren’t they?”
“You catch on quick,” said Gallen. “O’Malley owns stock in more than a dozen Muggle companies under an assumed name. He was placed under arrest in violation of the International Statute of Secrecy, more specifically the Finland Financial Fraud Amendment of 1794.”
“Oh, fuck,” Parvati groaned. One of the first things that any witch or wizard learned when studying to be a Financial Diviner was to keep your powers in check. When you’re hired on, you’re working for magical brokerages, buying stock in magical companies and only magical companies. Everyone was on an equal playing field that way, since all investment companies had their own Diviners.
Step out into the world of Muggle finances, however, and you find yourself in a boatload of trouble.
“What an idiot,” Parvati muttered, rubbing her forehead in frustration.
“I agree completely,” said Gallen. “So again I ask: Have you received any stock advice from Mr. O’Malley in the past?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Do you own any Muggle stock?” Gallen continued.
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you have any investments in the Muggle world? Any accounts held in an assumed name?”
“No, I don’t!” Parvati said, her temper growing thin. “And I don’t know why I’m being interrogated.”
“You’re being interrogated because Mr. O’Malley is your co-worker,” said Gallen. “One of just a few in this company. Your stock history, your criminal history, and your financial history will all be scrutinized by the Ministry, as well as the International Confederation, within the next few months. If anything is found out of line, you will be terminated and held criminally liable by the Wizengamot.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“You probably haven’t,” said Gallen. “However, Miss Patil, I’m just following protocol. If anyone in this company has any connection to O’Malley’s dealings, their punishment will be a lot harsher if they don’t speak up now. You should take that into consideration before you speak out.”
“I am taking it into consideration,” said Parvati through clenched teeth. “But since I haven’t done anything wrong, I don’t have to consider much. Are we through?”
“I will give you one last chance to speak freely about any potential wrongdoings, Miss Patil,” said Gallen. “After that, you will be held fully liable for any wrongdoings.”
“Then we’re through,” said Parvati, angrily storming out of the office.
“Miss Patil?” Judy said as Parvati returned to her office. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s not okay, Judy,” said Parvati. “When’s my next appointment?”
“Not until ten,” said Judy. “I had to reschedule everything until then. Gallen’s orders.”
“Oh, lovely,” Parvati moaned. “Hold my owls, will you?”
“Of course,” said Judy. “Stupid O’Malley, huh?”
“Yeah,” said Parvati as she closed the door to her office. “Stupid O’Malley.”
Parvati Patil plopped down on her cushion, then fell back until she lay flat against the floor.
I always loved Divination, she thought to herself as she stared at the ceiling. I might have learned Trelawney’s methods weren’t always the most accurate, her motivations weren’t always the most sincere. But I still loved it.
What have I gotten myself into? Endless restrictions, endless scrutiny. So many fucking idiots that skirt the line of legality and fairness. All to make themselves and other people rich, no matter how much they deserve it, no matter if they make the world a better place with their wealth or just buy themselves a fancier flying carpet or a bigger diamond ring.
“What else is there?” she muttered to herself. “Street corner fortune telling? Palm reading? Wireless Floo-In shows? Parvati Patil, fucking Psychic to the Stars…”
Trelawney had the right idea, Parvati thought as she closed her eyes. She loved the spectacle. Loved to make others fear for their lives by the words that she said. But she had the right idea. Find others. Try to do good.
Teach.
Parvati sighed.
Maybe Sybil’s retiring in the next few years…
Everybody’s Pregnant / Previous Chapters / Special Delivery