The Final Lesson
by Jardyn39
Chapter 16 - The Builders
A few minutes later, Harry paid the cab driver and they stood looking up at the sorry state that Number Four was currently in.
"They promised me!" complained Harry.
"Promised what?"
"The builders promised that they'd have everything finished yesterday," explained Harry, walking up the path and peering through a gap in the boarding that covered the living room windows. "It looks like they haven't even started!"
"That's builders for you."
Harry approached the front door which had been replaced by a steel door and frame. He shook the complicated looking padlock and then tried the key he'd been given. After several attempts to unlock the padlock, Vernon had a go.
"I'll use my wand to get the thing open," said Harry quietly. "Stand in the way so no-one sees, will you?"
Uncle Vernon wore an ambivalent expression, both furious that Harry was about to use magic and frustrated that there seemed no other way to get inside.
The padlock snapped open and the fell heavily onto the concrete step.
Harry pulled the bolt back and shoved the door. It refused to move.
"That's an anti-intruder door," said Vernon. "You have to turn that exposed handle to withdraw the bolts from the frame."
"Oh," said Harry, turning the handle that had been exposed by pulling back the bolt.
The door shifted slightly and then opened inwards.
"We should have brought torches," said Vernon, venturing into the dark hallway.
"No need," said Harry following and closing the door behind them. The instant it was shut Harry lit his wand tip.
They went into the remains of the living room.
"Petunia would have a fit if she saw the state of this place."
"I'm sorry. They promised."
Harry lit the candles that had been left from the time he had brought Dudley back and looked up and the bare brickwork that had been left after his various attempts to remove the Dark Mark that had been left there. Mr Weasley had advised him that no magical builder would touch the place with that still in place, so Harry had hurriedly removed it and the plaster behind it before the builders arrived to prepare their quotation.
Harry quickly vanished most of the debris that cluttered the room but didn't really know what to do about the appalling smell.
Suddenly there was a loud crack and two figures Apparated in front of them wearing identical faded blue overalls, chequer pattern shirts and muddy hobnail boots, each with steel toecaps gleaming through the holes in the faded tan leather.
"Mr Potter," said the tall one, both hands dug deep into his overall pockets. His companion smiled pleasantly and nodded an enthusiastic hello.
"Hello, Mr Stipatores. I thought we agreed that you'd be finished by now?"
"No, no, Mr Potter," said Stipatores, his silent companion now shaking his head seriously. "We may have given an indication of when we could start. Of course, if you like us to begin sooner, we could perhaps bring in additional labour at additional cost."
"Additional cost? I paid you to be finished by now!"
"Now, there are a few matters which have come to our attention that will be additional to our original estimate."
Harry pulled out the small piece of parchment that had been the only written thing he'd been able to get out of Stipatores.
"What extras?" asked Harry uncertainly, wishing he had heeded some of the dire warning that Mr Weasley had given him about dealing with magical builders.
"Our costs are significantly greater due to the fact that this house is within a Muggle area. You see, the time when we can move materials in and out is severely restricted and the lads need paying. I'll only pass on the additional cost of the overtime, but that's really the best I can do."
Stipatores' companion was now shaking his head slowly in a what-else-can-we-do kind of way.
"Lads?" asked Harry, "I thought it was just the two of you."
"Now," continued Stipatores as if Harry had not spoken, "the remaining plaster on the walls was upon on manually, not the usual way with magic. That means it's much more difficult to remove."
There was now earnest nodding from Stipatores' friend.
Uncle Vernon seemed to have got over the shock of the builders suddenly appearing, and had been reading the parchment over Harry's shoulder.
"The very least I could go to is a further hundred Galleons for the hacking off," concluded Stipatores, drawing breath before going on to his next item.
"Oh, you can do better than that," growled Vernon, pulling the parchment from Harry's fingers and looking up.
"First of all, this is a Receipt not an estimate. It clearly states the address of this place, so it was your responsibility to satisfy yourself as to the nature and condition of the work to be carried out."
Stipatores remained expressionless but his colleague looked on in shock.
"Furthermore, this Receipt actually confirms that you were supposed to be finished yesterday," continued Vernon, taking a step forward and waving the parchment. "As far as any extras are concerned, those will be cancelled out by the damages due to Mr Potter for late completion."
At the mention of damages, Stipatores took at step forward as well. He and Uncle Vernon stood facing each other. Stipatores was the taller, but they were equally matched in terms of stomach mass.
Harry thought they looked like two walrus bulls sizing each other up. Of course, Vernon had the moustache to match and this appeared to make the difference.
Stipatores' silent companion now wore a concerned expression.
"Maybe, we can start next week," said Stipatores, who had deflated slightly under Vernon's glare.
"NEXT WEEK?" shouted Vernon, making Stipatores jump back.
"Oh, no. You'll be finished tomorrow," continued Vernon loudly. "And if you hope to avoid this boy giving you an unkind mention every time he gets interviewed by the Press, you'll also be pleased to do the gardens at no charge too."
Stipatores looked furious with silent indignation.
"YOU!" bellowed Uncle Vernon and pointing threateningly at Stipatores' companion. "I suggest you make a start now. You don't have that long, remember?"
The wizard whimpered and Disapparated. A moment later Stipatores was gone with a loud pop as well.
Harry looked up at the ceiling, listening to a furious row that was going on upstairs. He turned to Vernon, who was also looking up and wearing a look of immense satisfaction.
Harry grinned at him and said, "Thanks. You enjoyed that, didn't you?"
There was a loud bang and the fireplace surround vanished.
"We'd better get out of here," advised Harry.
*
On the taxi cab ride back to the railway station, Uncle Vernon asked casually, "What is the conversion rate for that currency?"
Harry smiled, knowing he was trying to work out how much the repair work was costing.
"It's not important, although I must admit knowing the state we left the place in has been playing on my mind. I suppose I wanted to do something positive and your house was one of the few things I could actually fix right now."
"We won't be able to go back there, of course."
"Not to live," agreed Harry. "Not immediately, anyway. I thought you could rent it out until you are ready."
"And when might that be?" growled Vernon.
Harry looked down, unable to reply.
"I didn't mean it to sound like that," said Uncle Vernon quickly seeing Harry's reaction. "I only meant it's difficult to plan too far ahead."
Harry nodded, pulling out the coin that had just flashed hot in his pocket.
"On way home now. No problems. Love, Hermione."
*
They left the Railway Station and went down a flight of steps down into the Tube Station's large round underground ticket office. Standing on the opposite side beside some ticket machines was Lupin and Dudley.
They made their way across to meet them, winding their way through waiting commuters and being interrupted by people rushing to or from the barriers.
After another such interruption, Harry and Uncle Vernon parted briefly to pass either side of a wide white tiled column.
Harry froze, knowing at once that something was amiss.
The echoing noises of distant traffic, trains and people moving and talking had gone leaving only silence.
Harry grabbed his wand and looked around.
The entire ticket office was suddenly deserted. Only a moment ago it had been full of people.
Cautiously, Harry retraced his steps, making sure he was protected from attacks from behind by keeping his back to the wide column.
A lone figure stood right in the middle of the empty ticket office, his wand held lazily at his side.
"Nice trick," said Harry, moving out to face him and still looking around to check that the two of them really were alone.
The hooded figure did not reply.
Harry walked forward, wand out now.
"So, what do you want?" asked Harry loudly, his voice echoing around the strangely empty space.
The figure lifted his hands up and pushed back his hood, confirming Harry's suspicion as to the identity of the figure.
Ollivander had a troubled look on his face.
Looking quite distracted, he rubbed one of his temples with his free hand.
"Um," said Harry uncertainly, but at this Ollivander's features became distorted with fury. Harry dived to avoid a stunner and hit the hard tiled floor.
He rolled over, ignoring the searing pain of the impact and returned fire.
Ollivander's shield blocked his spell easily but he didn't immediately return fire. Standing still, Ollivander's face looked animated, as if he was having an internal argument with himself.
Harry got back to his feet and resolved not to throw himself at the hard floor again unless he could help it. He took a step closer to Ollivander.
The nearest Harry had seen of such strange behaviour was the confused look Ollivander had when Harry had found him at the Death Eater camp. Harry now fully believed that the confusion was merely an act, and he had every confidence that this was some new variation.
Rather late, Harry realised that Ollivander's argument with himself was drawing towards a conclusion. A Reductor curse almost got him, hitting a ticket dispensing machine and reducing it to a pile of melting plastic and metal.
Harry did not retaliate at once.
Ollivander looked up and for the first time their eyes met. There was no ambivalence in Ollivander's expression now. Harry could see nothing but naked hatred in his eyes.
Ollivander fired three spells in quick succession. These were followed by five more.
Harry blocked and dived, initially concerned with not moving too far away from the column that was protecting his back.
Harry's lack of a strong response seemed to anger Ollivander even further.
A massive blue flame erupted from Ollivander's wand and flew twice around the ticket office before hitting Harry's shield. The flame bounced off before diving down one of the escalators leading to the trains.
Harry stood a little straighter and prepared himself for Ollivander's next assault. As he did so, something struck him. Ollivander's was standing in exactly the same way Ron had recently begun to do during their duelling practises.
This could not be a coincidence.
The shocking possibility that Ron could have been associating with Ollivander for so long was almost as being hit by a hex.
"Crucio!"
Harry dived out of the way just in time.
Furious, Harry fired back. Even as he did so he could feel the dark magic he'd learned from the Kemmynadow Book surge up inside him.
Harry hurled hex after hex at Ollivander. Most missed in his rage and the timber newspaper kiosk on the far side of the ticket office was reduced to ashes.
Ollivander lurched to the side and fell in an obvious feint.
Harry hit him twice before Ollivander hit the floor with a painful wince.
Harry stepped forward, his wand pointed directly at the fallen Ollivander.
With a shaking hand, Ollivander pointed his own wand back up at Harry.
"Don't do it," warned Harry seriously.
Ollivander could only managed a weak stunning spell. Harry easily dodged it.
Ollivander's failing strength had the effect of pacifying Harry. He could feel the Kemmynadow's dark magic fading away with his anger.
He lowered his wand.
"How dare you!" growled Ollivander.
"What?" asked Harry in confusion.
"Am I such an unworthy opponent that you lower your wand?"
Harry sighed and said, "Listen, I want you to give yourself up to the Wizengamot while you still have the chance."
Ollivander responded with a curse that erupted in a large green flash.
Harry barely heard Ollivander whisper, "Avada Kadavra!"
Harry threw himself backwards, producing a Protego shield that he hoped would deflect at least part of the curse.
He felt heat on his face as the green flash flew over him and blasted into one of the white column.
Harry landed heavily on his back, hardly daring to breath.
As he came to realise that he was still alive, Harry also realised that the normal loud noises of the ticket office had gone.
From the floor, he looked around.
The commuters had all returned and there was no sign of any magical damage.
Lupin got to him first.
"Harry, are you alright?"
"I think so," said Harry uncertainly, allowing Lupin to pull him to his feet.
"Who was it?"
"Ollivander, but he may just have tricked me. A moment ago this ticket office was completely empty."
"I suspect we were just pushed out of harms way for a while," replied Lupin. "I was watching you as you approached. One moment you were walking towards us and the next you were on the floor. The station clock over there also jumped forward a few minutes."
Harry was rubbing his arm, finally feeling the pain from his falls onto the hard tile floor.
"Look, we're creating too much attention staying here. Let's make a move, shall we?"
*
They all arrived back at the Tube Station just in time to carry several large shopping bags back to Grimmauld Place. Harry spent most of the journey back pleading with the other three for them not to tell Hermione what happened. He would tell her, he promised, but in his own time.
Lupin had been the last to agree, and was clearly very uncomfortable. In the end he agreed to remain silent unless Hermione asked him.
Harry struggled with four bags in each hand as he climbed the steps to open the front door.
Soon they were all safely inside and enjoying tea made by Dobby.
"Here," said Hermione smiling and handing Harry an envelope.
"What is it?"
"This was handed to me by one of the assistants working in a boutique that we visited this afternoon."
Harry frowned and looked at the envelope. It was addressed to him. He tore it open at once.
"It's from Kingsley!" Harry exclaimed with delight. "He wants to meet me tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. He doesn't say where, though."
Lupin smiled and said, "I think we may be able to help there."
Harry looked at him enquiringly.
"Dudley and I received a cryptic message too, Harry. We know where, but didn't know when or who."
Harry smiled and nodded as Bateman came into the living room and went over to the table where Dudley had spread out all the leaflets and pamphlets he had collected.
Bateman snorted and picked one of them up.
"See this armoured gun?" he asked, and Harry saw he was showing Dudley a picture of what looked to him like a tracked tank except it had a very long gun instead of a rotating turret. "These things cost millions and can't hit a thing! Well, I suppose if they use it in the publicity pictures they'll get something for their money."
Harry was surprised when Aunt Petunia got up and showed some interest too.
"I see that there are other trades other than soldiering," she observed, picking up a catering careers leaflet.
"Oh, yes," agreed Bateman. "Actually, the majority of services personnel are in support roles. All the service branches are pretty good at providing vocational training too. In fact, services trained people often find themselves in demand in the right civilian sectors."
Harry realised that Hermione and the others had all day to bring her around. He had rather assumed that they would be cheering up Mrs Weasley for most of the time.
Aunt Petunia offered the leaflet hopefully to Dudley, but he was wearing a doubtful expression.
"Dudley needn't decide at once," Bateman said reassuringly. "It'll be a while before they are ready for new recruits of his age, and they all go through induction training at the beginning anyway."
Aunt Petunia gave him a brief, nervous smile and nodded.
"So, how is old Breaker?" asked Bateman with a grin.
"He said to call you a-," began Dudley.
"A name we most certainly can't repeat in pleasant company," finished Lupin with a smile.
Bateman roared with laughter, presumably knowing exactly what his old friend would call him.