The Final Lesson
by Jardyn39
Chapter 15 - A Word
"Bear, can I have a word?" asked Harry quietly after he carefully closed the door.
"Sure, Harry. What is it?"
The two of them were alone in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place. Harry stepped forward a little hesitantly.
"I just wanted to warn you about something. You know there's no guarantee that Kingsley will be able to help restore your memory?"
"Yes, Hermione explained."
"Well, if we assume that he can help, there may still be problems you need to consider."
"How do you mean, Harry?"
Harry shifted uncomfortably.
"Your memories of the things you've learned since your memory modification may get a little jumbled. Things that make sense now may change later on."
"I suppose I'll just have to cope. What aren't you telling me?"
"I'm not sure how to put this," Harry admitted. "I tried to get Hermione to warn you, but she said you'd rather hear it from me."
Bateman frowned.
"Talking hypothetically," began Harry, "just supposing-"
"Harry, just tell me, will you?"
"I don't want to embarrass you," said Harry.
"Harry, you look more than embarrassed enough for the both of us. Get on with it, will you?"
The door opened and Mary walked into the room. She stopped seeing the pair of them.
"You're not fighting, are you?" she asked.
They heard hurried footsteps coming towards the room. In an instant Hermione appeared by Mary's side, grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the room.
The door closed with a click and Bateman asked, "What was that about?"
"Talking hypothetically," began Harry again, ducking to avoid Bateman's reach, "just supposing something happened after you had your memory modified."
"Go on," said Bateman threateningly. Harry kept moving to keep the chair they were now circling between them.
"So, there might be something that exists now that didn't exist then."
"And?"
"Well, there is a risk that your memory of then will supersede your memories of now."
"What does that matter, so long as I remember the truth?"
"We're talking about conflicts, not truth."
"What specifically are you concerned I might lose?"
"Hypothetically, you mean?"
"Harry, be a good lad and wait here while I get my handgun? I've a sudden urge to practise."
"I'm talking about feelings, Bear."
"What?"
"If, hypothetically speaking, you had developed feelings for, er, someone, then in theory, you might forget those feelings."
Bateman stopped prowling and sat down in the chair. Harry came around to face him.
"How did you know?"
"Hermione told me. She said it was kind of obvious."
"She was wrong," said Bateman seriously, looking up at Harry.
"Hermione is never wrong about this kind of thing. Well, hardly ever."
"She was wrong when she said I would prefer to hear it from you."
"Oh. Yes, she would have been better," admitted Harry sitting down on the floor. "The problem is that this isn't something you can fix by writing yourself a letter. There is no guarantee that you'd fall in love the same way again. In fact, you wouldn't because the circumstances would have changed."
"So, what should I do?"
"Write yourself a letter."
"You just said that wouldn't work!"
"It won't, but it might help you understand things better. She'll be looking for more than you're prepared to give, so try and write down the feelings you've got now. You never know, maybe you had feelings for her before. I expect the things you love about her haven't changed."
"How much of this did Hermione come up with for you, Harry?"
"All of it! Here, you might as well have the notes she gave me to memorise," said Harry, handing Bateman several screwed up pieces of parchment.
"I wonder if repeating some of the things you shared would work?" asked Harry.
Bateman unscrewed one and said, "I suppose I first knew when she shot me."
"Maybe not, then."
Harry stood up and looked down at his friend.
For the first time he could remember, Bateman was looking quite lost.
"You okay?"
"I'll have to be, won't I?"
"You'll have a few days before I can make contact with Kingsley."
Harry smiled sadly and left him alone with his thoughts.
*
"I'm not sure this is such a good idea, Harry."
"Hermione, this was your idea, remember?" complained Harry.
"I know, it's just that this is a little risky."
"Look, we all agreed, didn't we? They could use some time alone and this way the Dursleys are out of the way. Besides, we must be overdue for another escape attempt. They'll be fine, I'm sure. Dobby and Kreacher will be back later as well, remember?"
"Even so, Harry."
"Hermione, you need this as much as they do. We've both been worrying ourselves stupid about Ron, but there's nothing we can do right now, is there? Just go with them and try to enjoy the day."
They stopped their conversation as soon as Aunt Petunia turned the top landing and descended the stairs. Dudley and Uncle Vernon followed.
"Ready?" asked Harry, removing the locks on the front door and opening it a crack to see outside. "They're here. Let's go."
Harry opened the door wider for the other four to exit and he then closed the door and locked it before joining the others at the bottom of the entrance steps.
"Hello, Harry, dear," said Mrs Weasley after greeting the others.
"Wotcher, Harry," said Tonks with a wide grin.
"Hi," said Harry.
"I think we should make a move," said Lupin quietly and led the way along the pavement and out of the square.
After a short walk they came to the nearest Tube station. After buying their tickets, they descended down the escalator where they parted into two groups.
Hermione, Mrs Weasley, Tonks and Aunt Petunia went through to catch a Central Line train while Lupin, Uncle Vernon, Dudley and Harry went a couple of stops on the Circle Line to Victoria Train Station.
A few minutes later they boarded an over ground train to Surrey.
Settling back into his seat, Lupin said, "I must say, I am rather glad not to be dragged around the shops with the girls."
Vernon snorted and nodded.
"Still, I'm sure they'll enjoy themselves," continued Lupin pleasantly. "I was worried this morning that Molly wasn't going to come. Fortunately Percy promised faithfully not to make another escape attempt while she was away."
Harry laughed and asked, "How is Percy?"
"Climbing the walls, by the sounds of it, Harry. Bill and Fleur will be keeping him company today, and he's been in much better spirits since he's been able to correspond with Penny. She still has no idea where he is, of course."
They were jostled slightly as the carriages rocked while the train made its way across the wide intersection outside the station.
Gradually, the train picked up speed and soon the London buildings became a blur.
At the second stop they alighted from the train.
Before they exited the station into the busy high street, they agreed to meet back there if they got separated for any reason.
"Right, Dudley and I have business up the hill," said Lupin smiling.
"We do?" asked Dudley stupidly. "Oh, yeah."
Harry and Uncle Vernon watched for a moment while they disappeared into the crowds of morning shoppers.
"I suppose we should get a move on too," said Vernon.
Harry followed, his hand never far from the pocket he held his wand in.
They walked down the hill and after a couple of hundred yards the crowds thinned enough for them to hold a conversation without shouting.
"Uncle Vernon, what is it that Dudley's interested in?"
"Well, he's been considering a career in the services for some time. The Smeltings careers councillor thought he was particularly suited, but Petunia wasn't at all keen. She still isn't, as a matter of fact, but as I told her, the boy's got to do something."
Harry nodded and asked, "Does he want to join the army?"
"Originally, yes, but your friend John Bateman suggested he considered the Marines as well."
"So that's what Dudley and Lupin are looking into today?"
"Yes, Bateman gave Dudley the name of a contact of his and said to look him up. There's a recruitment office just up the road. I just hope he doesn't sign anything."
Harry laughed.
They turned into a light industrial estate and walked right to the end of the road towards a high blue painted metal palisade fence.
Vernon was puffing by the time they'd got to it.
"It doesn't seem this far when you drive," he said, and as he did so a deep red coloured executive car with a rumbling engine glided passed them, turned left and headed for the entrance gate.
They continued at a slower pace until they reached the entrance. Over the high gate was an arch with sheet metal plates. Into the plate the word, "Grunnings," was formed in hundreds of drill holes.
The metal gate slid shut noiselessly as they approached.
Vernon headed straight for the security booth.
"Good morning, Sirs," said the security guard from the other side of the gate. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, I work here."
"Well, if you'd like to show me your works ID card, I'll let you in."
"I do not have an identification card. Will you kindly open this gate?"
"This entrance is for employees only."
"I'm a Director. Open this gate."
"If you were a Director, you'd have an ID card, Sir."
"Hawkins, you know perfectly well that I've been using this gate from the day it was installed. I even approved payment for the damn thing!"
"I'm afraid without an ID to verify your identity, Mr Dursley, I can't let you in."
"This is absurd!"
"Really, Sir? I vaguely recollect someone telling me that if I let any more vagrants in I'd be sacked."
"Ah," said Uncle Vernon, and it was immediately clear to Harry exactly who had threatened to sack the security guard. "That was different. I just got fed up with all those damn sale reps getting in."
"So, I'll bid you goodbye then, Sir."
"Open this damn gate!" shouted Uncle Vernon.
"Vernon?"
Uncle Vernon stopped in mid bellow as a figure walked up on the other side of the gate. Harry couldn't see them clearly, but as if by magic the gate slid open.
"Vernon, my dear fellow," said the smiling man. "It's delightful to see you."
Vernon stepped towards him and shook the stranger's hand.
"Ernest. You're looking well."
Harry stepped inside into a wide compound marked out with road markings for lorries to follow. To one side was a row of expensive looking cars, including one right at the end under a tarpaulin that looked the shape of Uncle Vernon's old company car.
"Is this young Dudley?" asked the man kindly, holding out his hand to Harry.
"No, no," said Vernon quickly. "This is my nephew, Harry."
Harry smiled and shook the old man's hand. He was grey haired and incredibly thin and stood with a slight stoop. The smile on his lined face was genuinely disarming, Harry thought.
"Harry?" he said. "Not Harry Potter?"
"Er," said Harry. "Yes, Sir, that's right."
"My dear boy," said the man, now shaking Harry's hand with enthusiasm. "Welcome! Welcome to Grunnings."
"Thank you, Sir," said Harry, completely baffled by this reception.
"This is Mr Fotherington, Harry. He's the Chairman and major stockholder of Grunnings," explained Uncle Vernon.
Fotherington turned and walked with Uncle Vernon towards the main building. Harry made to follow but felt a tap on his shoulder.
Harry turned to find two bright yellow Visitor passes being thrust into his face.
He took the badges and pinned one badge on his lapel before hurrying to catch the other two up.
*
Harry sat down and looked around the large office while Fotherington and Uncle Vernon talked. One entire side of the room was a window that overlooked a small courtyard with a bubbling fountain in the middle of a patch of green grass. Seats were provided around the perimeter but no-one was outside on such a cold day.
Most of the other windows to the courtyard were frosted, so Harry could only see the occasional movements and shadows of blurred people inside.
Behind Fotherington's impressive desk was a large oil painting of an austere looking man with a disapproving expression. The remaining walls were covered with smaller portraits and photographs.
"The thing is, Ernest," continued Vernon, "I know that you've been incredibly understanding about my enforced absence, but I believe the right thing to do would be for me to resign my Directorship. It just isn't fair to you."
"My dear Vernon," said Ernest at once, "I won't hear of it. I can't say I won't be pleased when you eventually do come back to us, but we all have circumstances at one time or another that require periods of unforeseen absence. I don't need to remind you that Reginald is still away as well, although hopes of his returning are fading."
Harry frowned slightly, wondering who this Reginald was.
"Reginald Grunnings, Harry," explained Fotherington kindly, "was the original founder's great-grandson. He, and most of the company funds, went missing in 1876. As I said, hopes of his returning are gradually fading."
Harry laughed and nodded in understanding.
Fotherington smiled and turned back to Uncle Vernon.
"That reminds me, the accountants are making an awful fuss about the monies you haven't taken in the accounting period. I'd be terribly grateful if you'd allow us to clear the monies owed to you."
"I'm sorry," said Vernon, "but I don't quite understand. We agreed to stop my salary in the summer when we went away."
"My dear fellow, you're still entitled to the commissions from all those sales you made while you were away. In addition, as a Director you also have a nominal share holding. Thanks to you, it was a very good year, last year. Anyway, pop by George's office before you leave and sort something out, will you?"
Vernon nodded.
"Excellent! Now, I really must trouble you to listen while I try and persuade you to come back, Vernon."
"That may not be possible," said Uncle Vernon.
"Did you notice much activity in the Industrial Estate?"
"Actually, it seemed unusually quiet," admitted Vernon.
"Yes, and I'm to blame. There is a brand new Industrial Estate that has opened up by the dual carriageway, and we've signed up with a consortium to move everyone there. Everyone's really pleased with the new place, mainly because the transport links are so much better.
"Anyway, the land here is worth a small fortune to a residential developer, particularly as we've already got planning permission."
"What about the manufacturing here?"
"Well, the other member's of the board were rather keen on selling up and moving the manufacturing base abroad."
"That doesn't sound like something you'd approve of."
"Quite right. There is no way that I'd allow so many people to lose their jobs. Besides, many of our investors think the same way."
"They do? I'd have thought they'd only be interested in the profit margins."
Fotherington turned to Harry and smiled.
"I should perhaps explain. Vernon and I are Directors and limited shareholders of Grunnings Limited. The largest shareholding, over ninety percent I believe, is held by another company called Grunnings Holdings.
"Grunnings Holdings is a private company owned by various family members and one private investor, whose interests was until recently managed by a Trust Fund. Interestingly, the original investment was made almost two decades ago and required a number of changes to the Articles of Incorporation.
"These Articles govern and restrict the areas in which Grunnings can trade. Amongst other restrictions is the limitation of changes that would make local people redundant. Of course, the increased mechanisation has led to some significant changes in our production methods, but we have actually lost very few people to date."
"Well, we always were highly mechanised," agreed Vernon.
"Indeed. It wasn't a coincidence, of course, that the financing for re-tooling all those years ago also came through the Trust."
Vernon frowned slightly.
"Who is the private investor?" asked Harry.
"Until very recently, we had no idea. A couple of months ago a firm of London Solicitors got in touch and advised us that a beneficiary would shortly reach their eighteenth birthday and that all the shares would then be transferred to them. They gave us your name, Harry, the date of the transfer of 31 July next year, and the fact that you were Vernon's nephew."
"Oh," said Harry blankly.
"They also indicated that they had been trying for some time to contact you themselves, presumably to tell you the same thing," continued Fotherington. "Your investments are set up as a blind trust so the earnings can be reinvested. If you are happy for this to continue, you need do nothing as tax is taken at source. If you wish to sell or move your interests, I'm sure Vernon can advise you.
"In the meantime, perhaps we can show you what your money has enabled us to achieve."
"It was my parent's money, Mr Fotherington, not mine," said Harry quietly.
"As you wish, but now would be a good time to see the factory while it in full operation. We will shortly begin scaling down production here."
"How advanced are your plans at the new site?" asked Vernon.
"Construction of the new manufacturing building is almost complete, but we're experiencing serious delays in getting the upgraded plant installed. I was rather hoping to persuade you to help us out, Vernon. You were always better at geeing the Suppliers up than I am."
"You mean I shout louder?" said Vernon with a smile.
Fotherington laughed and nodded.
"So will you?"
"I'll need to think about it, Ernest. There are other matters that will need to be considered."
"Well, at least think about it?"
*
They left Grunnings through the visitor reception after biding Fotherington goodbye in front of two architectural models that he said had helped secure the Planning Application. One was of the new factory and the other was of the residential development.
They walked a little beyond the boundary fence before speaking.
"You'd like to take up Fotherington's offer, wouldn't you?" said Harry.
"Mm," growled Uncle Vernon, "I would."
"There'd be risks."
"I'm not sure how much longer I can stand being shut up in that house," admitted Vernon. "If it wasn't for Petunia and Dudders, I would have agreed at once."
A taxi cab pulled up on the other side of the street to drop someone off.
"How long would it take to drive to Privet Drive from here?" asked Harry, crossing the road.
"About half an hour at this time of day, why?"
"Good," said Harry, "we've plenty of time. Come on. I want to show you something."