The Final Lesson
by Jardyn39
Chapter 14 - Clever-Clogs
"Thank you ever so much for this," said Harry as he headed for the door. "And thanks for staying open for me."
"Not at all, Mr Potter," said the bowing shop assistant.
Harry thanked them again and tucked the small bag containing his purchase safely inside his robes before headed out into the night.
Behind him, Harry heard the locks being turned almost as soon as he'd closed the door. A moment later, all the lights went out as well.
Harry walked over to a street lamp and looked at his watch. It was a little before eleven o'clock and the only sign of activity came from the Three Broomsticks a little down the road.
He as about to Disapparate directly back to Grimmauld Place when he thought he saw movement in the shadows.
Harry spun around, his wand raised.
"Ah, a little more alert I see, Mr Potter."
"Come out from the shadows if you want to talk to me," demanded Harry.
Harry heard three footsteps and Ollivander moved casually into the half-light. He appeared to be on his own again.
"What have you done with Ron Weasley?"
"Done?"
"I saw you with him in Knockturn Alley. Where is he?"
"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say," drawled Ollivander.
"If you see him, tell him his friends are worried out him. Ask him to get in touch with us."
"Unfortunately, he may no longer count you as his friend. From what I hear, he's hardly welcome at home any longer. You didn't exactly support him, either, did you? That Mudblood friend of yours actually made more of an effort."
"So, you have seen him."
"I see lots of people."
"Oh yes, I was forgetting. How is Voldemort? He hasn't been in touch for ages."
"Too busy killing and maiming I imagine. You're hardly a major concern to him. Don't worry, though. He'll come for you soon enough. That's the thing about fanatics. No matter how insane they are, they can always be depended upon to go back to their obsessions."
"Aren't you afraid he'll turn on you?"
"Me? Why ever would he do that?" asked Ollivander with a grin. "No, we're great pals. You see, I'm so useful to his cause. Fortunately there are few wandmakers prepared to supply in the face of Ministry objections. Even foreign makers won't export to just anyone these days."
"Why do you make wands for his Death Eaters?" demanded Harry.
"Oh, I've made wands for them for years. Any convicted wizard is willing to pay me ten times over for a half-decent new wand, you know? More, in many instances."
"Money? You've betrayed us for money?"
"We all need money, Mr Potter. Why should I deny them? Who am I to judge whether or not they should perform magic?"
"Your wands have been used to murder countless people since Voldemort came back! Don't you feel any responsibility at all?"
"Wands don't kill people, Mr Potter; wizards do."
"It would be a lot more difficult for them to kill without having your wands to help them."
"I'm not so sure that's true, you know?"
Ollivander paused in thought and then gave a half laugh.
"My father always disapproved of me as well, actually."
Harry frowned slightly, wondering where Ollivander was going with this statement.
"I was the eldest of two brothers. Traditionally the eldest son took over the wandmaking business, but I must admit I showed no aptitude nor inclination to follow in his footsteps. It was rather a relief to me when my father threw me out and named by brother as his successor.
"You see, my father was widely celebrated as the greatest wand maker ever. He was mortified to think that his reputation would be ruined once I took over the shop. That wasn't the only cause of friction between us, either. We had a number of let's say, ideological differences, as well."
"You mean he wasn't a Muggle hating bigot?"
"Indeed. Well, he retired eventually and my brother took over running of the shop. I must say, he was rather good at it too. He made me a wand, you know? A fine example which he presented to me. The price was that I was never to return in his lifetime."
"I take it you didn't get along with your brother either, then?"
"Indeed," agreed Ollivander with a smile. "So, having been finally freed of any encumbrances, I set out to seek my fortune."
"Did you?" asked Harry.
"Well, I did do rather well, actually. In truth, I only made a modest amount of money but I had a fine time. I thoroughly enjoyed my misadventures!"
"So, why did you stop?"
"Dumbledore thought I ought to behave myself," Ollivander said darkly. "Still," he added, suddenly much more brightly, "now he's gone."
"Hang on," interrupted Harry. "Are you seriously saying that Dumbledore was the only reason you didn't join up with Voldemort?"
"I merely stated that I am no longer obligated to Dumbledore."
"So you felt it was okay to start cutting people up?" asked Harry angrily.
"Muggles have been cut up; not people," Ollivander corrected him.
"They are people," stressed Harry furiously. "People who feel and think and suffer, no different from you or I. No-one deserves to suffer like those people did at your hands."
"What do you know?" spat Ollivander. "What proof do you have that I am The Healer, anyway?"
Harry did not answer at once and fought to control his temper.
"Alison Weston," he said finally. "She identified you to me before she died."
"But what was she really trying to tell you?"
"Are you telling me that you didn't do those things?"
"Would it make a difference if I did?"
"Yes. If you claimed to be innocent, I'd at least consider if you could be telling the truth."
"Innocent? In truth, I can hardly claim to be innocent. In my time I have done many things that you would be happy to condemn me for."
"I'm only interested in the things I know about."
"That may not be entirely wise. Of course, I have been known to lie as well."
"So? I haven't asked you not to lie. I've merely asked you to confirm or deny whether you did those terrible things."
"But, why should I? I haven't even been accused of anything."
"I'm accusing you."
"And are you to be my Judge and Jury as well as Prosecutor?"
"To be honest, I don't know what I'll do."
"Well, in that case I think I'll reserve my plea. By the way, I'm not sure what law I'm supposed to have breached."
"Why do you say that?"
"They were only Muggles. The Mistreatment of Muggle statutes only cater for tricks and such."
"So, torture and murder are okay, then?"
"Well, if the victims were Muggles, then yes, they are."
"How can you say that?"
"I merely observe that the current statutes do not cater for such occurrences to be treated as crimes. For centuries, Wizards and Witches have mistreated Muggles. Would it be fair if I were to be punished when others have not, assuming for the sake of argument that I was guilty."
"If the Wizengamot found you guilty but decided not to punish you on those grounds, then they'd lose all credibility."
"Haven't you noticed a significant number of killings that have been carried out over the last few months? Clearly some people don't think the Wizengamot has any credibility as it is!"
"True, but that doesn't make it right, does it?"
"Right? Was Dumbledore right not to allow the Wizengamot to punish me all those decades ago?"
"How can I say? I have no idea of the circumstances. If he didn't punish you, he must have had his reasons."
"Well, he only didn't let the Wizengamot punish me. I didn't say he didn't punish me."
"I always assumed you two were friends."
"No. We maintained cordial terms for the last few years, but I would never describe us as friends. We never did entirely trust one another. I hated him for seeing the good in people."
"Even you?"
"Especially me."
"Why do you say that?"
"When we fought, all those years ago, he was extraordinarily powerful. You will have a better idea than most how strong Dumbledore was, but believe me when I tell you his recent powers were nothing compared to a few decades ago.
"Even so, we were well matched. We fought for hours, with no quarter given.
"I used every ounce of Dark Magic that I knew against him. It was close, but in the end he won.
"The last spell he cast against me caused my wand to explode in my hand. I was expecting him to finish me, but he did not."
"He gave you a second chance."
"Yes."
"Are you seriously telling me that the only reason you remained at Diagon Alley selling wands was because you were afraid of Dumbledore?"
"Well, in the beginning, perhaps but I realised later that it was something much deeper than fear. You see, Dumbledore used his great goodness to save not only himself."
Ollivander trailed off, apparently deep in thought.
Harry had no idea what he was going on about, but the mention of Dumbledore had got him thinking. The greater threat was Voldemort, not Ollivander.
"Everyone agrees that your wands were the finest money could buy. I've never heard any talk of your father's wands or your brother's wands. It was your work that was so admired. Didn't you take any pride from that?"
"Not while my obligation to Dumbledore existed."
"Did that obligation really die with him?"
"No. It was discharged before his death."
"How?"
"I grow tired of this conversation, Mr Potter."
"Look, you're obviously a powerful wizard. Come back to our side. Help us defeat Voldemort."
"You seriously want my help? You've already said you think I should be thrown into Azkaban. That's hardly any incentive, is it?"
Ollivander Disapparated away before Harry had a chance to utter a response.
*
A little later, Harry walked into the drawing room at Grimmauld Place in search of Hermione. He was surprised to find such a harmonious atmosphere.
Uncle Vernon and Dudley were listening with rapt attention as John Bateman told them a stream of anecdotes from his many experiences as a soldier.
On the other side of the room, Miss Alice and Aunt Petunia were sitting surrounded by papers. Hermione was reading a little apart from them.
She looked up smiling and immediately saw that Harry wasn't in the best of moods.
Deciding he didn't want to spoil the evening for everyone else, he turned to leave.
Then he turned back and asked, "I'm going to make a drink. Does anyone else want anything?"
There were mutters of, "No thanks," from around the room as Hermione stood and followed him out of the room.
Outside, Harry stopped.
"Come on, let's go upstairs where we can talk about it," said Hermione quietly.
*
"I can't believe Ollivander would do those things just because he was free of Dumbledore's control. It was like he was proving he could do things that Dumbledore would abhor."
Harry had told Hermione everything he could remember about his latest exchange with Ollivander. Hermione had been just as incredulous as the last time that Harry had once again been left free.
"Well, I know it's difficult for us to even imagine that someone would be capable of such things. The thing is, there are people who enjoy performing such acts upon other people. Perhaps it's just something we can't understand."
Hermione nodded, remembering the state that Jack Gurnet and Alison Weston were in when they found them.
"I asked Ollivander how his obligation was discharged before Dumbledore's death, but he wouldn't answer me."
"I wonder how that could have happened?"
"Yes, I wondered that too," said Harry.
"Harry, please don't take this the wrong way."
"Don't tell me there's no proof of his guilt, Hermione."
"Well, there isn't, is there?"
"I saw him kidnap you, remember?"
"Well, yes."
"And Alison Weston identified him with her dying breath!"
"Unfortunately, you were the only witness. As Ollivander pointed out, do you really know what she was trying to tell you? You said he'd gone by the time you looked around."
"If you'd been the one who'd seen the horrified look on her face, I don't think you'd be having these doubts."
"Harry, all I'm saying is that you shouldn't attempt to act as Judge, Jury and Executioner."
"You're that convinced that I'd execute him?"
"It's only an expression. Mind you, judging from the way you've spoken about him, I do believe you could be provoked into doing something you would regret."
Harry sighed deeply and leaned back against the bed headboard.
"The fact that he wanted to speak to you at all is rather interesting, isn't it?"
"Interesting," he repeated, but with no conviction.
Hermione was clearly going through various explanations in her mind but didn't share any with Harry.
"So, what's been going on around here?" he asked.
"Well, Mary is making good progress with the Journal. She won't say anything, but I'm sure she has cracked it. Petunia is helping her with the codes."
"Really?"
"Yes, she's really good at them. It seems that the key to solving some of the pages is by using the clues exposed by other pages. It all seems very clever. Colonel Falcon went to a lot of trouble to conceal something."
"But you think she's solved it?"
"I think she just needs to prove that she's right about something before she sends us of on some wild goose chase."
"Oh, well. I suppose we'll have to wait then."
Hermione smiled and brushed his hair back.
"You seem tired, Harry. Why don't you get some sleep? You can tell me about Professor McGonagall's lesson tomorrow."
"I should really go and rescue Bear from Dudley and Uncle Vernon, though."
"You're kidding, right. They're getting on like a house on fire."
"That's not possible. You know he made the Dursleys leave Privet Drive at gunpoint, don't you?"
Hermione laughed and said, "No, I didn't know that. I suppose that is one of the good things about his memory being modified. He's forgotten how horrible they were to you."
"So why are they getting along so well now?"
"Well, I think Dudley quite fancies a career in the Army, actually. John has been telling them some of his adventures."
"Dudley in the Army? He wouldn't like the early mornings."
"I think it'd do him good," said Hermione, leaning back against Harry.
"He'd soon get bored with all the marching."
"Don't forget the shouting, though," said Hermione. "He'd love the shouting."
"And the shooting!"
"Good grief, can you imagine the chaos if they gave him a tank!"
They laughed and cuddled up on the bed.
"So, tell me about your lesson. You must have stayed late. What did she teach you?"
"Well, I was late leaving because Neville got me to take a DA evening class."
"Oh, good for Neville. I wish I'd come too, now."
*
The next morning, Harry and Hermione met with Mary and Bateman. At last Mary seemed ready to discuss her findings.
Placing her hand on the old cover of the book, she smiled and said, "This book does not give a complete answer. It merely points us in the direction that Colonel Falcon was looking in."
She opened the book at the last pages.
"Clearly, he suspected that others would try and find the information, as indeed we are. He used a series of puzzles with increasing complexity until we get to this very last page."
She opened the inside cover and turned it towards them.
"What you can see here isn't the actual puzzle. You need to re-write it using the solution to the previous ones."
She held up a large piece of parchment with a grid containing hundreds of characters.
"Now, obviously, if there was a mistake in solving the preceding puzzles then this final puzzle becomes meaningless junk."
The other three nodded in understanding.
"Fortunately, Petunia is rather adept at these kinds of puzzles. We each followed all the steps and then compared our two grids."
Mary held up a second parchment in Aunt Petunia's hand.
"I'm pleased to say that the two puzzle grids are identical."
"That's great, but how to we read it?" asked Bateman. "This just looks like a random table of letters to me."
"Well, we are supposed to solve it to produce a clear text message. One that we can read directly."
"What do you mean by supposed?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
Mary gave them a very mischievous smile.
"Alright, clever-clogs," said Bateman. "Out with it. You've been dying to tell us that you've solved this for ages, haven't you?"
Harry and Hermione laughed as Mary smiled, blushing.
"I suppose I have," she admitted. "But I haven't solved this grid puzzle."
"You haven't?"
"No, but I have got Falcon's message."
"Is there any chance of you actually explaining this and making sense?" asked Bateman.
"This grid puzzle confirmed my original suspicion. This looks like a random arrangement, but actually it isn't. Any cryptographer would look at this grid and see the patterns, and so would their computers."
"Oh, so there is a solution. Good, we only need access to the right computers, then?"
"No, John," said Mary seriously. "I can tell you now, those computers would run for weeks and never find the answer. There isn't an answer. This is designed to make someone keep looking for an answer that does not exist."
"That was Falcon's message? There is no answer."
"No. Colonel Falcon just intended to throw us off the scent. Tell me, which of you read this Journal from start to finish?"
"Certainly not me," said Bateman.
"I skipped the paranoid stuff," said Harry.
They looked at Hermione who was frowning slightly.
"I read everything," she admitted, "but I didn't see anything there."
Mary smiled and opened the Journal again from the beginning.
"Look again," she said gently. "The first word of the message that I spotted is here."
They all leaned in to see where she was pointing.
"That's a kid's drawing of a tank. So the word tank is part of the message?"
"No, John. Look closer. Look at the pencil shading."
"What?"
Harry looked closer. The tank was drawn in green crayon with red shells peppering a gun emplacement across the page. The only pencil marks were those that formed the tracks. Then he saw it.
"Those aren't just tracks! That's handwriting!"
"Indeed. All of the drawings include words that on first glance look just like random squiggles and patterns."
"Falcon was cleverer than we gave him credit for," said Harry.
"So what is the message?" asked Bateman impatiently.
"I believe it is an address," said Mary, "but I don't know its significance. It could be a place where Falcon left another clue or it could be where his chief suspect lives."
Harry looked up.
"We could ruin everything if we blundered along there. We must have more information before we proceed."
"Where could we get that from?" asked Bateman, but Harry already knew what she was going to say.
"John's Report contains something important that none of us have been able to fathom. I'm convinced that John himself is the one to discover it. For that to happen, he needs his memory back."
Harry looked to Hermione.
She looked up and nodded in agreement.
"Okay. I'll try to get another message to Kingsley," said Harry.