The Kemmynadow Betrayal
by Jardyn39
AN: Have you skipped a chapter? Chapter 6 uploaded early because the last one was a bit short.
Chapter 6 - Smith's Empire
Harry left the Leaky Cauldron and set out into Muggle London, frequently consulting the photocopied street map he'd been given with his destination clearly marked.
Once he'd got his bearings, it only took him a twenty minute walk to get there. He hadn't expected to make such good progress, but once he had left the bustling shopping streets he was free to stride out at a good pace.
He passed several low rise office blocks, all either faced in genuine Portland stone or rendered and painted to blend in.
Most of these buildings appeared to be home to various obscure Government departments. Occasionally a recently cleaned façade would stand out, and this was invariably occupied by some wealthy corporate giant.
Harry had just passed a particularly grubby building when he realised that he had gone one street on from his intended route. He doubled back and quickly realised the reason why he'd gone straight on.
Instead of the proper street he'd been expecting, he was standing at the entrance to a small, dark passage. The rusting street sign showed it was indeed the correct place.
Cautiously, he proceeded down the passage, his wand held ready inside a deep pocket.
He turned twice and approached the end of the passage. He was rather surprised to see a security guard sitting in a faded yellow glass-fibre booth next to a plain looking roller shutter. As he approached, the guard continued to ignore him, preferring instead to read the sports page on the back of his newspaper.
Harry stopped right next to the booth.
Seeing that there was no alternative, he cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me, but I have an appointment."
The guard looked at him with a long sceptical look that took in his tattered jeans and the over large jacket that had once been Dudley's.
"Name?" he asked eventually.
"Harry Potter."
The guard didn't appear to move at all, but instantly, the electric roller shutter began to open. Harry looked up at it. It looked completely out of proportion to the tiny passageway he was standing in. Harry was sure that the vehicles it was designed to allow entry for could never get down the narrow passageway, let alone manoeuvre around the tight bends.
The roller shutter stopped just above his head height and Harry could see a large, empty area inside. There was a single door on the far side.
He looked uncertainly back at the guard who had returned to his paper.
Harry walked forward towards the single door. At once the roller shutter came down and electric lights flickered on to compensate for the loss of daylight.
He had got about half way to the door when the roller shutter finished closing. There was a loud clunking sound and Harry felt a shudder through his feet. He withdrew his wand and prepared to run for the door. He was feeling very exposed out in the open, although all he could see were plain concrete block walls.
Suddenly the entire floor began to descend. Harry looked up in mild consternation as the door he was headed for grew more and more out of his reach.
As the floor descended, what looked like mirrors were revealed in the walls. He guessed these were actually one way windows. Harry continued to walk in a wide circle, waiting for the exit to reveal itself. He decided there was little point in his putting his invisibility cloak on just now, since he knew that he must be under observation.
Gradually, a large opening that matched the roller shutter was revealed on the opposite side. He walked over, keen to see anyone waiting for him before they got too much of an advantage. He wasn't sure if he was glad that there was no one waiting, nor not.
He stepped off the descending floor. Once the hidden machinery stopped, Harry could here loud footsteps coming from somewhere. Realising that they were coming from his right, Harry turned to see another security guard march out of a small side door.
He really was marching too, as if to a military band that only he could hear. Harry resisted the impulse to laugh as the man came to a sudden halt and clicked the heels of his brightly polished boots together. His uniform was all black and absolutely immaculate, from his perfectly pressed trousers to his peaked cap.
The man looked rather horrified at the notion that some scruffy youth like Harry should dare to intrude upon his domain.
"Um, I have an appointment," said Harry, as politely as possible.
The guard lifted an eyebrow and asked, "Do you have any identification, Mr Potter?"
"No, sorry," Harry replied apologetically.
"No identification?" he asked as Harry shook his head. "No driving licence? No passport? No credit cards? No video club membership?"
This continued for some time until the last resort, "A Gas Bill?" had been exhausted.
"Sorry," said Harry once again. "But the person I'm meeting knows me. If you could call them, I'm sure it will be alright."
This notion appeared to cause the guard discomfort for a moment.
Without warning, though, he turned on his heels and said, "This way, Mr Potter." A quick click of his heels and he was off again, marching towards the side door he'd come out of.
This caught Harry by surprise, and he had to run to catch up. When he did so, he found himself in what looked like a security office. There were rows of camera monitors filling one entire wall in front of which was an impressive bank of switches, dials and joysticks.
Around the room was an assortment of strange looking equipment. Harry only recognised a couple of things, including a camera.
A younger looking guard got up and handed him a plastic laminated visitor pass on a red loop of material. It had his photograph printed on it with all his details and some kind of bar code.
"Wear this at all times while you are here. In the event of a fire alarm going off, it is important to follow the directions given by your host. Remember we are underground, so it isn't easy to get to safety."
Harry nodded and put the pass over his head.
"I'm required to check you for weapons," he added, holding up a strange device that her swept over Harry's front and back before he realised what he was doing.
"That's fine. Your escort will be here in a moment, Mr Potter. Please take a seat."
"Thanks," said Harry, sitting in the nearest chair next to the door. Once he'd sat down, he wished he'd sat somewhere else, though, as he was directly in line of the other security guard's disapproving stare.
Harry did his best to ignore him, but was very pleased when a familiar voice called out, "Alright, Harry?"
Coming into the security room was Careem. Harry jumped up at once and shook hands with the grinning Special Forces weapons specialist that he'd first met only a short time ago.
Careem turned to the security guards and asked, "Do I need to sign anything?"
"No, you're fine," said the younger guard.
Harry followed Careem out and they headed for the lifts under the ever watchful eye of the elder guard.
"I hope old Smithy didn't give you too much of a hard time," said Careem with a backwards look. "He's quite mad, you know? He's convinced he's the one in charge of this whole place. Hardly let's anyone in or out without aggravation."
Harry smiled and nodded as all his apprehension evaporated.
"Yes, rumour is he tried to make the Nato delegation do push-ups last week because they didn't salute him properly," Careem continued making Harry snort with laughter.
They stepped into the lift and Careem swiped his pass through some kind of electronic detector. A panel lit up and he pressed a floor level button. Harry was surprised when the lift car lurched downwards. He'd been expecting to go upwards.
"Sergeant Bateman has been delayed, but I've been detailed to escort you to somewhere you can wait for him."
"Is everyone okay?" Harry asked in a would-be casual tone.
"Oh, yes," said Careem smiling. "Well, our team is okay. There have been casualties, though. I expect you'll be given a full briefing later."
Harry nodded.
"I should warn you, that hardly anyone around here knows what anyone else is up to. Everything is secret. It makes conversation in the canteen a little difficult, especially as a lot of people have no idea what the weather is like outside."
"How many people work here?" asked Harry interestedly.
"That's classified," replied Careem with a grin. "Actually, I've no idea. There are tunnels that link some levels with other complexes under other buildings, so it's probably impossible to say. We're only here because of the security level needed at the moment. After all," he added sarcastically, "no one could ever get past old Smithy, could they?"
Harry laughed and shook his head.
He looked up and the level indicator. They had been travelling down for quite some time now.
"These lifts were installed years ago to withstand direct bombing above us. Unfortunately, they are painfully slow sometimes, especially when it stops at every floor."
Harry realised that no one else had got onto the lift, even though there were only two lift entrances at their starting level. Then he saw that a light was flashing, "Priority," on the panel and he guessed that other people waiting would be required to wait.
The indicator flashed, "Level Eight," and the lift came to a painfully slow stop. The doors opened silently and they stepped out into a large lobby. As the lift doors closed behind them, they crossed over to a pair of doors opposite.
Careem swiped his pass through again and a panel beside the door flashed green and there was a small click as the doors were unlocked. Careem pulled open one of the doors and ushered Harry through to reveal a corridor.
A door ahead of them opened and out came a smart looking uniformed man. It was his swagger more than the insignia on his shirt that told Harry that this was a man of some rank. Harry guessed he was in his early thirties.
Harry sensed Careem tense up immediately.
"Mr Potter," the officer said pleasantly, holding out his hand. "May I introduce myself? My name is Brigadier Colonel Falcon, and I'm in charge of intelligence and military strategy concerning the magical community."
"I'm sorry, Sir," began Careem, "but my orders are to take Potter directly to the briefing room."
"That won't be necessary," insisted Falcon, still giving Harry and appraising look.
"But, Sir," insisted Careem.
Almost at once they were pounced upon by four men in fatigue uniforms. Each held a handgun pointed directly at their heads. Quickly, Careem was disarmed and Harry's wand was taken. Harry realised that they must have been waiting for them, hidden in two small alcoves behind the door.
Knowing he had nothing to lose, Harry shook Falcon's hand and the guns at his head were immediately pointed away from him and towards Careem.
Falcon took the wand that one of the soldiers offered him and gave a very self-satisfied smile. He hesitated a moment before handing it back to Harry.
"I'd like a word with you, Mr Potter, if that's alright," said Falcon, walking towards the door he had just come from.
Harry didn't move. Although Falcon had shown a degree of trust in returning Harry's wand, he was in half a mind to stupify the four soldiers. However, he was afraid one of them would shoot at Careem before he got them all.
He looked back at Falcon who gave a curt nod. Harry felt himself being grabbed by two of the soldiers and wrestled into the room. Behind him, Careem was becoming engaged in a noiseless scuffle of his own.
Harry was thrown into a metal chair before his two escorts hurried off to help their colleagues.
Falcon sat down opposite him and stroked the table top between them.
"Is it usual to have to hold people at gunpoint in order to talk to them around here?" asked Harry.
"Not usually," Falcon admitted, "but we live in unusual times, do we not?"
"It looks like rain later," said Harry.
Falcon raised his eyebrows.
"I assume that's what you wanted to ask me," continued Harry casually. "After all, the weather is the only thing we can talk about, isn't it?"
"I tend not to think about the weather," said Falcon pleasantly. "It reminds me too much of what I've sacrificed in the national interest."
Harry sat quietly, waiting for a question that he would refuse to answer. Falcon, for his part, seemed in no hurry to continue.
Harry felt Falcon looked like someone who liked to be in control of things. His shirt was perfectly pressed and his short haircut and precisely trimmed moustache shouted nothing else.
"May I call you Harry?" he asked politely.
Harry shrugged and asked, "What can I call you?"
"Oh, Brigadier Colonel, will do."
Harry gave a derisory snort.
"Harry, we can do this the easy way or the hard way," Falcon continued smoothly. "However, I can assure you that I will have your co-operation, in the end."
"That's a pathetic threat," countered Harry contemptuously, who felt oddly relaxed now that Falcon was beginning to show his true colours. "I've been threatened by far more talented people, you know?"
"How is your family, Harry?"
"Still dead, thanks. How are yours?"
"You know, there's remarkably little information about you in the official record. Even your primary school attendance records have vanished."
"If it makes you feel any better, I can confirm that I didn't take any time off due to illness or anything else. There was one day when the boiler room flooded and we were all sent home, though. I'm fairly sure it was a Wednesday. I remember because I got chased home by a dog."
"Most interesting."
"Shouldn't you be writing this down?" asked Harry with a grin. "Otherwise, people might think you've been wasting your time."
Falcon leaned forward.
"How many of you are there?"
"Can you be more specific?"
"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. How many wizarding people are resident in this country?"
"Wizards?" asked Harry incredulously.
Falcon slammed the palm of his hand down on the table, and Harry inwardly revelled in the annoyance he was causing Falcon.
"How many of you are there?"
"If it's that important to you, why don't you nominate that as a question for the next census? You could ask, are you a wizard?"
Falcon lifted his arm up quickly and was clearly about to strike out at Harry across the small table, when the door opened.
Falcon slowly brought his hand back down to the table again.
Harry looked around to see the impressive and somewhat imposing form of Sergeant John Bateman. He looked simply livid.
Bateman stepped into the room and came right up to the table. Harry looked back at Falcon.
"Sergeant Bateman," said Falcon, not looking away from Harry, "you will wait outside until my interview with this subject is concluded to my satisfaction."
"This interview is terminated now, Sir."
"I'll be the judge of that, Sergeant," Falcon responded menacingly.
"I don't think you will be, Sir."
"Sergeant Bateman, I can see that obeying simple orders is becoming a little too much for you. You are still technically under my command, you know? I believe it is time we reviewed your future with us."
"Good luck with that, Sir."
"Oh, luck won't have anything to do with it. You are well past the mandatory retirement age for your rank, aren't you Sergeant? I know it is traditional for Special Forces to bend the rules a little to keep the right kind of experience in the ranks, but you really are beginning to stretch the point. No, I think it would be best if we allowed you to enjoy your retirement."
"Thank you, Sir. Let's go, Harry."
Harry didn't move and neither did Falcon as they continued to stare at each other. The staring competition stretched on.
Bateman looked like he was about to drag Harry out of his chair when he started as the telephone on the desk started to ring loudly.
The table began to shake slightly and Bateman looked between Harry and Falcon.
"Are you having a seizure, Sir?" Bateman asked, realising that the shaking was coming from Falcon. "Only if you're not, perhaps you should answer the telephone. It might be important."
Harry smiled at Falcon and released him from the full body bind that he'd been fighting against for the last couple of minutes.
As the spell was lifted, Falcon screamed and then collapsed, dislodging the telephone handset.
Falcon was still panting hard as an uncertain Bateman picked the receiver up and said, "Hello?"
Bateman listen for a moment and then offered the receiver to Falcon. "It's for you, Sir," he said with a smile. "Someone wants to know what has held Mr Potter from attending his meeting."
Harry stood and went through the door now being held open for him by Bateman. When the door was firmly closed, Bateman grabbed Harry's arm.
"That was unwise," he said in a whisper. "I know he's a prat, but he's a prat with enough rank to make trouble. He's been left out of the loop, and he's desperate for information. You just gave him proof that he's not been paranoid all these years."
Harry felt slightly ashamed as Bateman marched towards the lift lobby door.
"Hang on," said Harry. "What about Careem?"
"Oh, yes," said Bateman, still obviously furious. He reached for a side door and threw it open. Harry was amazed to see Careem standing in the centre of the room. His four assailants were spread out on the floor around him amongst several items of smashed office furniture.
"GET TO YOUR FEET!" yelled Bateman.
The four men scrambled to obey and stood to attention. They looked enormous standing next to Careem, who had presumably achieved his place on the Special Forces team by brains rather than shear brawn.
Bateman stepped into the room, his fury emanating from him.
Unlike Careem, he was every bit as physically intimidating as the four men standing before him.
"What are you four doing on duty, anyway?"
"Colonel Falcon reactivated us, Sergeant," said one thickly, his broken nose still bleeding badly.
"At ease," said Bateman and they slumped on their feet.
Harry stepped beside him and looked enquiringly at him. Bateman considered for a moment and then nodded.
Harry immediately pointed his want at the man who had answered Bateman and muttered, "Episkey!"
He quickly attended to the others and was finished before the first had finished checking his nose. He had become rather good at performing simple first aid since Bateman and his team had joined him at Privet Drive earlier in the summer. Their training regime and spontaneous attacks had led to a number of injuries.
"You four should still be on the sick list," said Bateman, now sounding concerned rather than angry. "It's standard procedure. It takes time to recover when you lose members of your team. If you come back too early, you become jumpy and your judgement becomes questionable."
Harry watched as they bowed their heads.
"Judgement like obeying an order to drag off one of our own. May I remind you that just because some pillock has some rank, that does not entitle him to set one member of our Regiment against another. That's what we have Military Police for, and we traditionally all fight them together, on the same side."
None of them protested that they were only following orders.
"I want all four of you to report to G117 for light duties and you are all to report for examination by the medics. I'll have you transferred out for training as soon as I can. In a few weeks you'll be fit to rejoin the fight."
They nodded, still looking down but now somehow looking more determined.
"Go on," finished Bateman, "clear off."
They quickly headed for the door. The last one out pointed to his nose and said, "Thanks," to Harry.
Bateman turned to Careem looking none too pleased again.
"Hey," objected Careem at once. "There were four of them!"
"Only four?"
"All with guns drawn, weren't they Harry?"
*
The three of them reached a large office that had about six desks, one of which was occupied.
Harry realised at once why Careem hadn't let him ease any of his injuries. Clearly, he would much rather be tended to by the attractive young lady who was shocked to see the state of him and rushed over with a first aid box.
The far door opened and an austere looking woman stepped into the room. She was dressed entirely in black.
Bateman smiled and said, "Ah, Miss Alice. I have the honour to introduce to you Harry Potter. Harry, this is Miss Alice."
Harry was somewhat surprised by her firm handshake, but somehow her genuine smile told him she was someone they could trust. Her hair was short and greying slightly, and her face was thin and a little lined. He didn't immediately realise that she wore no makeup at all, and the only jewellery she wore was a simple gold necklace and a single ring.
"How do you do?" asked Harry.
"Very well, thank you," she replied. "Let's go into the briefing room where we can talk properly."
She turned and headed for the door she had just come from and Harry and Bateman followed.