The Final Lesson
by Jardyn39
Chapter 18 - Framed
It took Bateman over an hour to get himself ready. The others all tried to put him off from going so soon, but each had as little success as Harry had.
Bateman was also finding it increasingly difficult to converse with Harry. He would suddenly freeze, apparently half remembering things that he needed to sort out in his mind before continuing.
Hermione seemed to cause him the least problems, but Mary found herself turning away to hide her welling tears at the cold, business-like way Bateman addressed her. He wasn't rude or unpleasant towards her, but it seemed it was now impossible for him to see her as anything but the analyst Miss Alice.
In the short period that they had known them, Harry had grown to see that the person who was Mary Happell was very different from the Miss Alice he'd been introduced to in that London bunker. These differences were clearly beyond Bateman for the present.
The worst thing was that their closer friendship appeared to have been lost from Bateman's memories.
They left Grimmauld Place in pairs and travelled separately to the east London train station nearest the address in the Journal.
Harry and Mary just glimpsed Hermione and Bateman as they exited the ticket office.
"I'd like to buy a street map," said Mary, and so they tried to find one in the small kiosk in the station.
As Mary was unimpressed with the maps they offered, Harry suggested they try a newsagent. Here they found a street atlas and planned their approach to meet with the others behind the address in about an hour's time.
Harry had no idea how the others would get there without their own street map, but he had no worries about them getting lost.
They crossed over the busy high road and walked along a few yards until they came to a park entrance.
Only a few feet along the path and the traffic noises seemed subdued by the lush green shrubbery. They walked on, enjoying the morning.
"How does John seem to you?"
Harry hesitated before answering. Hermione had warned him about not making promises that Bateman would be fine. They just didn't know yet.
"He's clearly still a bit mixed up, but you could see him improving, even this morning."
"Yes, but I didn't really mean that. Was his reaction what you expected?"
"I've never seen anyone having their memories restored," he admitted, "but this wasn't what I expected, no. From what Kingsley described, I had assumed that he would have a rough night but that would be it."
"He seems to be remembering things that are contradictory."
"Well, Kingsley did say he would be confused for a while. That's the weird thing, actually. Bear seems to be going through everything in reverse."
"Could it be because he isn't a wizard?"
"I wondered that, too."
"Wouldn't Kingsley have said something?"
"Yes, if he knew."
Mary sighed deeply and said, "Harry, this is going to sound awful, but what if something else has happened? What if John isn't just struggling with the effects of that potion."
"How do you mean?"
"What if he's been given more than one memory modification?"
Harry frowned.
"He did seem to act differently towards you," he admitted. "He was always much warmer towards you in the briefings."
"I think we should catch up with the others and get out of here."
"Okay, but Bear won't be happy," said Harry, taking his coin out of a pocket. "Let's sit down while I write them a message."
"Meet us in park. Mary wants to go back. Do not go to address."
Hermione's reply came back almost at once.
"No. Come to address now."
Harry groaned and said, "I thought we'd agreed not to do that."
*
"I think it's that red brick building on the corner," said Harry as they approached.
"Should we go down the next road to look at it from behind?"
"Let's walk past the front first," he suggested.
As they got to within a few yards, an elderly looking gentleman emerged from the building. Looking decidedly shaky, he moved surprisingly quickly with the aid of his two walking sticks.
A moment later, they heard, "Uncle John? Where have you got to now?"
A young woman rushed out and caught the old man up.
"Uncle John, at least come in and look around. It looks lovely inside."
Mary and Harry looked at each other in astonishment. The young woman was Hermione, except she was now wearing a different coat.
They hurried to join her just in front of the building sign that read, "Residential Home for the Elderly."
Hermione gently but firmly wheeled the old man around and led him back towards the entrance where a smiling nurse was now waiting for them.
"Ah, you must be Mr Brown's other family?" the nurse asked. "His grand-niece did say you hoped to arrive in time."
"Hi," said Harry, receiving a bone-crushing handshake.
Mary just smiled and shook hands before following them inside.
While the nurse showed Hermione and Mary around the facilities, Harry took over minding duties.
He almost laughed out loud when Bateman winked at him from under his tattered trilby hat. Harry wondered where on earth they had got the outfit from.
"We are a private residential home catering for the elderly who enjoy a degree of independence whilst living in a safe environment," explained the head carer. "Residents are expected to cook for themselves but cleaning assistance is provided.
"Mr Brown is slightly younger than our typical resident, but he would be welcome. We currently have a single apartment that is vacant that would be most suitable, I'm sure."
"Are staff resident here too?" asked Mary interestedly.
"Two members of staff are resident, but all rooms have emergency assist pull cords. Help is never far away."
As a stooped Uncle John complained loudly about each and everything that was pointed out to him, the nurse wasn't too displeased when he announced he was off to look around the gardens.
Once back in the corridor, however, Harry followed him up some stairs in search of the apartment identified in the Journal.
"We need to be quick," warned Bateman when they were alone.
The front door was painted a violent red colour. Harry was about to raise his wand to the lock when Bateman pulled his hand down.
"Cameras, Harry," he hissed. "There's one each end of the corridor. Turn your back to one and I'll obscure the other."
The door unlocked quickly but before they could enter they were disturbed.
"Come on, Uncle," said Harry loudly. "This isn't the way to the garden after all, is it?"
The new nurse smiled understandingly at Harry and took a firm hold of Bateman's arm.
"Let's see if we can't find that garden, shall we?"
Harry discretely re-locked the door and then followed. They would return later.
*
Bateman kept up his old man act until they had got a couple of streets away from the residential home. Harry walked slowly with him while Hermione and Mary walked ahead, deeply engrossed in a serious conversation. They seemed keen to move quickly, and Harry had the impression that they'd rather have their discussion out of their earshot.
"I thought we were going to wait before going in?" asked Harry.
"You sound like Hermione," Bateman replied dryly.
He looked around and then decided he could dispense with his disguise. He removed his old tattered jacket, straightened up and removed his hat. The transformation was remarkable.
"Well, it just seemed a good opportunity to have a look around. I hope the other two got more information than I did, though."
"How do you feel now?"
"Much better, thanks. I've still got a bit of a headache, but that may have been from Hermione nagging me."
Harry snorted.
"She's not that bad."
"I know," said Bateman with a smile. "Listen, Harry. I think that I'm the reason Mary and Hermione rushed ahead. They probably both wanted to argue about me."
"Why?"
"Let's just say, I think they will propose something shortly that you won't agree with. What I'm saying is, let's go along with what they want for now."
Mary and Hermione were waiting for them at the next corner, right in front of a Pub entrance.
"I could really do with a pint," said Bateman longingly.
Hermione looked behind her and gave the establishment a slightly disapproving look. Mary's own disapproving look changed into one of resignation.
"They do bar meals here," she said. "We might as well eat and decide what we'll do next."
Bateman didn't need any encouragement. He quickly pulled the lounge bar door open and ushered them all inside.
*
"Honestly," said an exasperated Mary, who was fed up of looking at the miserable face Bateman was pulling as he stared at the sparkling mineral water she's ordered for him. "If you want a glass of beer, order yourself some."
"No," he said, not entirely convincingly, "you're right. I shouldn't drink alcohol if I'm coming with you."
Harry cleared his throat and asked, "What did you learn this morning?"
Hermione started and said, "Flat fourteen is occupied by on of the resident staff members. His name is Summersby. Judging by the amount of post in his pigeon hole, he seems to have been away a while."
"It will be dark in a couple of hours," said Bateman. "We shouldn't need to wait until night before paying the place a visit."
"Is that wise?" asked Mary. "That flat is up on the second floor and can't have more than two windows facing the street outside. Most of the light comes in through the windows facing the courtyard, and that's all floodlit."
"There are a couple of rooflights we could use," replied Bateman with a smile, "but I rather hoped that Harry and Hermione could get us in there by other means."
"Use a Portkey again?"
"Yes."
"What about the noise, though?"
"What noise?"
"Well, me screaming my head off in shear terror, for one," quipped Mary with a smile. Hermione laughed and nodded.
"Why don't I go in and look around on my own?" suggested Harry.
"No, Harry," said Bateman seriously. "Apart from the fact that there could be something dangerous waiting for you, somehow I doubt if you'd know what it is we're looking for."
Harry looked to Mary for support.
"Hermione and I were discussing something earlier," she said carefully.
"I was concerned," Hermione interrupted, addressing Bateman, "that you seemed to be unusually motivated to get inside that flat. You acted almost as if you knew there was something we had to find."
"And you went straight to the front door of the flat, John," continued Mary.
"What are you saying?" said Harry, feeling indignant on his friend's behalf. "There was a sign that said where all the flats were right in the entrance lobby! I thought we were all keen to find out what's in there."
Bateman smiled.
"I didn't see any sign," admitted Mary with a smile.
"But you can't deny that you were extraordinarily keen to get in there," persisted Hermione.
"That is true," said Bateman gently. "I can't explain it. I've never seen that place before and I'm fairly sure I've never heard of this Summersby before. It hasn't come back, but I'm sure there is something important for me in that flat."
"Can you be any more specific?" asked Harry.
"No," replied Bateman. "It's just like with you, Harry. I'm sure there's something important I need to tell you, or maybe show you, but the harder I try to remember, the less it becomes clear.
"When I woke up this morning, I swear to you I knew exactly what it was. I knew I had to write it down, but by the time I'd grabbed a pencil my mind was blank again."
"Well," said Mary gently, "perhaps we should all visit the flat. Anyway, I was telling you about the discussion Hermione and I had earlier."
Mary shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"I've decided not to return to your house, Harry. I'm going to ask John to come with me too."
"What? No," said Harry.
"It's okay, Harry," said Bateman.
"I trust you," said Harry angrily. "I trust you both."
"We can't be sure, Harry."
"When the real traitor finds out you are investigating, and actually getting somewhere," Harry continued firmly, "you are both going to become targets. Do you seriously expect me to lose one or both of you just because you can't prove it wasn't you?"
"Harry," said Hermione gently, and he saw she was looking a little red in the face. "We've got things to do, and they've got things to do. Now that Ron," she added before hesitating. "Well, we need to use our time wisely."
Harry looked at Bateman and then remembered that he'd asked him to go along with what he knew they would ask.
"Okay," he said finally, "but I'm not happy about this."
*
Hermione refused point blank to allow Mary and Bateman to use the first Portkey that Harry created. She could see, as could the others, that he was still feeling angry when he charmed the toothpick.
As he vanished the unused Portkey, it gave a menacing electric crackle that betrayed the dark origins of Harry's Portkey creation skills.
Harry tried again, wishing rather than believing that he could create a Portkey as skilfully as he'd seen Dumbledore do it. The very thought of his old headmaster seemed to calm him.
He started seeing the pure electric blue glow as he whispered, "Portus!" the second time.
Harry looked over to Hermione to see if she might approve his latest effort.
He opened his mouth to explain but she cut across him, saying warmly, "I know, Harry. It was written all over your face."
The four of them landed gently, by Harry's standards, in the middle of the carpeted living and dining room area.
They pulled the curtains and put the lights on.
"I'll bolt the front door in case we get disturbed," said Bateman.
Now that he was actually inside, Harry felt very uncomfortable about searching through someone's home. He could see that Mary and Hermione felt the same way.
The three of them hadn't moved before Bateman returned sorting though a bundle of post.
"What's up?" he asked.
"This is someone's home," said Mary.
"Really? You'd think they would have a bed if they lived here, wouldn't you?"
"What?" asked Mary, immediately marching down the short lobby. Harry and Hermione followed. On one side was a small bathroom and on the other was the only bedroom. The door was wide open, and there was indeed no bed. The only thing in the room was a pile of junk mail, presumably collected from the pigeon hole downstairs.
Hermione immediately checked the mail while Mary went back into the living room.
Harry followed and went into the long narrow kitchen from a door next to the lobby. He found that all of the kitchen cupboards were bare and the fridge contained nothing but a single sock.
It took him a while to get the small freezer open, mainly because of the amount of ice that was inside. Bizarrely, he found a pair of training shoes inside, but no food at all.
Bateman came in and kicked the black skirting plinth to one of the base units.
"Good hiding place," he explained before leaving the room. Harry got down and checked under each of the units, but found nothing. He also checked on top of the high wall units and behind each of the appliances. He was glad the floor appeared to be solid or he was sure they'd be taking up all the floorboards as well.
Having run out of places to check, Harry went back into the living room.
Deciding not to disturb Mary, he ventured back to the lobby. The bathroom had practically been dismantled by Bateman. He had removed all of the cistern casings as well as the bath panel.
"Nothing here," he said emerging from the boiler cupboard.
They all returned to the living room where Mary was standing and staring at the furniture.
"What do you notice about this room?" she asked.
"This is the only room with any real furniture in it," suggested Harry.
"It looks like this room had to look normal in case there were visitors," said Hermione.
"Yes," agreed Mary, walking over to the polished timber sideboard. "John, come and look at these photographs, will you?"
They all went over. On top of the sideboard were several small photographs each displayed in a small gilt silver frame. Harry guessed there were around twenty or so of various sizes.
"Take your time," Mary said gently. "Do you feel drawn to any?"
Bateman studied each photograph intently, but did not pick any of the frames up.
He shook his head despondently.
"Take one, John," she prompted. "Any one at all."
Bateman reached over and made to take one from the front. Then he hesitated before taking one from right at the back.
"Does that photograph mean anything to you?"
"No, not exactly," he said, turning the silver frame over in his hands. "This frame does, though."
He pushed the catches at the back of the frame and the glass came away with the photograph.
"Ah," said Bateman, handing the frame to Harry. "This frame has an old photo behind it."
Bateman soon gave up and handed the glass to Mary. With delicate fingers, she gently peeled away the hidden photograph and immediately handed it to Bateman.
"I know him!" said Harry at once, looking over Bateman's shoulder. "He's-"
"Not here, Harry," interrupted Bateman, pocketing the small photograph. "Let's go. There's nothing else to see here."