The Final Lesson
by Jardyn39
Chapter 23 - Cold Tea
"Are you alright, Harry?" asked Hermione. "You look like you're worrying about something."
Harry gave her a disbelieving look and waved his hand over the Daily Prophet headlines.
"What could possibly be worrying me, Hermione?" he said sarcastically. "I mean, apart from Ron, the recently departed I've just been reading about and what could happen to everyone I know that's still alive; what else is there?"
"I didn't mean," she began, sounding hurt.
Harry sighed and said, "I'm sorry."
He reached out to take her hand, but it was withdrawn almost at once.
Harry got up and walked around the table where she was sitting. He kneeled down and placed his hand over hers on her lap.
"I'm sorry," he repeated gently.
Looking flushed, Hermione looked down at him.
"Is there something else you're worrying about, Harry?" she asked shakily.
"No, it's just the usual."
She reached out and stroked his hair back. Harry leaned forward and rested his head upon her lap, wrapping his arms around her.
"I just wish I knew how to get in touch with Ron," he admitted.
"I know. All we can do is trust that he'll come to his senses soon and get in touch."
"What if he tells?"
"We must trust him. We can't really do anything else, can we?"
"I suppose not."
"There is some good news," Hermione reminded him. "The Daily Prophet says the Muggle Prime Minister has begun re-issuing intelligence reports to the Ministry and in exchange the Minister has opened the Kent Library to the Muggle researchers."
"Yeah, that was a strange announcement. I can't understand why they didn't suppress that."
"I imagine they didn't get a choice."
Harry looked up at her smiling face.
"What do you know about it?"
"Well," she began, with a look that told him she'd been dying to tell him for some time. "You know I've been corresponding with Scenariste? Well, just recently we agreed on a method through which he could communicate with the Muggles without having to go through the Ministry of Magic. We've been testing it quite some time, actually."
"What has that got to do with the Prophet article?"
"Scenariste wrote it. You see the Muggle intelligence reports are to be issued through the Library Archive. It was an inspired idea, really. Scenariste issues a copy to all Department Heads as appropriate. That way no-one can suppress the information."
"What if Voldemort's supporters get to see the reports too?"
"We know they will. That's the clever part! Scenariste controls who sees what. That means he knows what information has been seen and then leaked. He can also issue false information."
"You're going to trick Voldemort's spies into revealing themselves?"
"We suspect there is more than one faction, Harry."
"Who is dealing with the Muggle end of the operation?"
"I've no idea. Scenariste is the only one who knows all the contacts."
"What exactly was your involvement?" he asked cautiously.
"Well, all I did really was make a few suggestions. I originally contacted Scenariste with a view to getting some more information about the destruction of the Horcruxes."
"And, did you?"
Hermione's face dropped and she shook her head.
"I've almost exhausted all my lines of enquiry, Harry. I was about to suggest we try some practical tests on the Horcruxes we have access to."
"Yeah, we should start trying something."
"But not quite yet, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "Remember Dumbledore's arm?"
"How could I forget? He said only Snape kept him alive after he destroyed the Horcrux in Salazar's ring."
"Exactly. We can't afford any serious injuries."
Harry rested his head back down.
"Scrimgeour wondered if Bear had been subjected to a memory charm before he made his report."
"Well, yes," agreed Hermione. "Mary thought the same thing."
"The Prime Minister also said that Bear was utterly convinced that there was something important in the report. He said he didn't even know himself what it was. He said he was sure Bear had witnessed and reported something that could help identify the traitor."
"What?" asked Hermione. She said this softly, but Harry knew her well enough to know it wasn't a casual enquiry.
"What is it, Hermione?"
"Harry, are you sure he really said that?"
"Um, yes, I think so. It's what we thought, wasn't it?"
"Harry, I need you to tell me exactly what the Prime Minister said."
Harry frowned and said, "I don't see why that's important."
"Harry! Isn't it obvious?"
"Er, no."
"Just tell me exactly what the Prime Minister said," she commanded.
*
Harry returned with two mugs of freshly made tea and a determination to make Hermione explain to him properly what she had just realised.
He had tried to interrupt her hurried scribbling after he had repeated everything what seemed like twenty times. He hadn't been too surprised when she practically threw him out the moment he offered to make them both hot drinks.
Harry had been so annoyed, both with himself for not understanding her excitement and with Hermione for treating him like a silly child, that he had completely forgotten to use magic to make the tea.
Kreacher had looked on in mild amusement at Harry's mad mutterings and curses as he waited for the kettle to boil.
Presumably in the hope of seeing some more entertainment, Kreacher had followed Harry as he carried the hot mugs back up to Hermione.
Harry struggled to open the lever handle with both hands full, and then gently nudged the door open with his feet and stepped inside.
"Hermione?"
The room was quite empty.
Harry stepped forward and placed the drinks down on the table. There, in place of her notes, was her gold fake galleon.
"Where's she gone?"
"Miss Hermione has gone out, Master."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Master did not ask to be informed of all Miss Hermione's movements. Kreacher assumed Master knew. She crept out the moment you went down the stairs to the basement."
"Why did you think I was making two drinks then?"
"Master is clearly either very thirsty or cannot decide what colour mug he preferred."
"Where has she gone?"
"Kreacher does not know."
Harry considered the house elf for a long moment. Kreacher couldn't lie to him directly, even now.
"I'm going to find her, Kreacher. If she's back before me, please ask her to stay here and get a message to me."
*
Harry stepped out of the fireplace and into the Room of Requirement. There were very few places Hermione would go without telling him, and this was his first guess. Now that only he and Hermione could enter the Room of Requirement, it was perhaps the safest place he could think of.
Unfortunately, the Room of Requirement was quite empty.
His second port of call would be to Professor McGonagall. Harry grabbed a pinch of Floo Powder and was about to throw it into the fire when the Kemmynadow book caught his eye.
The book was laying out on the table in the middle of the room.
Hermione must have left it there as he was sure that he'd left it up on one of the shelves as usual.
Distracted, he returned the Floo Powder to the pot and walked over to the book.
As worried as he was about Hermione, he was more concerned about the manner she had left in. It was almost as if she hadn't wanted him to know what she had discovered, although he knew Hermione had no difficulty in not answering anything she didn't want to.
Of course, he reasoned to himself, she might have realised she needed to contact someone urgently.
But what could be so urgent she couldn't tell him.
She must have known he'd be worried about her.
Harry realised that the Kemmynadow book was open a fraction of a second before his hand was pulled down onto the open page.
The dark magic surged up through his arm, feeding hungrily upon his bitterness.
For a long time the book's dark power felt like a welcome relief. Spells and curses outlawed by wizards generations ago danced through him.
Then there was an abrupt change in the flow of magic and knowledge.
Harry opened his eyes.
Words were flying around him. He recognised the format as indicating the beginning of a new Book Chapter. Harry could not understand most of the strange symbols and lettering from some obscure dead language.
Only four fiery words were written in English.
"Curses Beyond the Unforgivable."
With a pang, Harry wrenched his hand from the book and the circling words vanished at once.
He slammed the book shut and then wiped his face with a shaking hand. He was dripping with cold sweat.
Realising he had no idea how long he'd been there, he headed for the fireplaces.
*
Harry actually felt a little light headed when Professor McGonagall told him that she knew exactly where Hermione was and had been for most of the afternoon.
"Sit down, Harry. You look fit to drop."
"No, thanks, Professor. I'd rather just go and find her, if that's okay."
"SIT."
Harry sat immediately, wondering if she had perfected another kind of Imperious Curse.
"I wish to speak to you, Harry. I can assure you that Miss Granger is perfectly safe in the School Library. I believe Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood are with her."
Harry almost asked, "How do you know that?" but in the end he decided he didn't dare.
"Miss Granger arrived here at a little after one o'clock. I assume you realised she had gone only a little after that?"
"Yes, she practically threw me out when I offered to make us some drinks. She'd gone by the time I'd returned."
"It is now a little before five o'clock. May I ask where you've been for all this time? I would assume this would be one of the first places you'd look for her."
"It was the second place, actually. The first was the Room of Requirement. I, er, got distracted by the Kemmynadow Book."
Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows.
"I noticed that Hermione had placed it on the table and for some reason I felt particularly drawn to it."
"You were reading the book for over three hours?"
"Closer to four, Professor," admitted Harry. "I feel so ashamed. Hermione might have been in trouble."
"It should be obvious even to you, Harry, that Miss Granger intended you not to find her. She placed the book there for you to find, and she also asked me to prevent you from seeking her until she is ready."
"What?"
"I believe I was clear enough."
Harry stared angrily at her for a long moment, but then looked away.
"I don't suppose you'll tell me what it is I've done to upset her?"
Professor McGonagall smiled and said, "Harry, I'm sure she is not upset with you. However, I am lead to believe that she will be staying here at the school for a few days. She will contact you when she is ready."
"Is she placing herself at risk?"
"I have no idea how she might do that," replied the Professor. "However, I can assure you that Miss Granger will be afforded every protection she asks for."
"How about providing protection whether she asks for it or not?"
"That would merely antagonise her."
"You and the Order weren't so coy about protecting me against my wishes, were you?" he spat angrily.
"Well, no doubt you'll draw some comfort from the fact that we've learned from some of our mistakes."
Harry breathed in deeply, desperately trying to control his temper.
"Did Hermione mention what it was she discovered?"
"Not precisely, but I know she did make at least one Floo call from here."
"Who did she call?"
"I left her to call in private."
Harry let out a groan of frustration.
"Go on then," he said at last. "Tell me to go home and be a good little boy."
"I will as soon as you give me your message for Miss Granger. Would you like to write her a note?"
"Just tell her," he began, with no idea what to say that he was comfortable passing on through Professor McGonagall. "Just say her tea is getting cold."
*
"Harry, mate, we need a favour."
"Sure, George, how can I help?"
"Are you free tonight? Fred and I could use a hand collecting a consignment."
"Um, sure. What's the catch?" he asked with a grin.
"Catch, Harry?"
"Yes. How many laws will we be breaking?"
"We can't be responsible for what you get up to before dark, Harry."
Harry laughed and said, "Just so long as it's nothing Hermione wouldn't approve of."
"That's an unreasonable standard, Harry. Did Hermione approve those socks that you're wearing?"
Harry looked down at his odd socks and shook his head.
"Good, meet us at the shop at nine o'clock."
*
"Fred, what exactly are the items we need to collect?" asked Harry.
"Oh, just a few crates of Caliga. It's a kind of mist. Nothing special, only our suppliers won't deliver during the day."
"Why not?"
"Too great a risk of getting caught, I'd imagine."
"Just great," said Harry flatly. "If I'm caught in possession of illegal and probably stolen goods, Hermione won't speak to me for another week."
"Harry, we promise you that there is nothing illegal about the crates nor any of the goods inside. We also know that we are buying from the legitimate owners. We checked their cauldrons while they were brewing the batch."
"Okay," said Harry slowly. "Why don't they want to deliver then?"
"Well, technically, bringing these items into a built up area, could be considered a minor infraction of the Trade Restriction Acts."
"Are they dangerous then?"
"No," both twins protested at once.
"Merely a little explosive under certain conditions."
*
"What do you use of Caliga mist for, anyway?" asked Harry just before they Disapparated.
"Oh, we colour and dice most of it for use in our fireworks."
"Yeah, we also use slices in our revenge gift card selection."
"Revenge cards?"
"Yes, they're getting more and more popular now. The card blows up in the recipient's face, but it's almost undetectable sealed inside our special envelopes and rarely results in permanent injury."
"We'll send you a free sample, Harry!"
*
All three of them Apparated into the middle of a deserted country road. Harry shivered with cold and was glad to put on the black woollen hat the twins had given him.
The twins themselves were also dressed entirely in black and wore similar headgear. It was unusual to see them not wanting to stand out.
"This way," whispered George.
They followed George along the grass verge until they came to an opening in the hedgerow. Peering through, Harry could see in the moonlight a grass field with an assortment of large crates scattered around. He could just make out three figures standing there, although more could have been hidden by the nearby trees.
"It looks okay," whispered Fred. "What do you think George?"
"Let's be on our guard," advised George, pulling out his wand. The others followed suite.
They stood and walked through into the field.
One of the figures turned and walked forward to meet George beside one of the crates.
"Where's Dog?" asked George.
"He and Beau are busy tonight. They asked us to deliver it here. You'll be wanting to check the goods before paying. Here, I'll open the crate for you."
"Just a minute," said George, interrupting the stranger. "Dog didn't say anything about asking anyone else to deliver for him. As for checking the goods; we'll decide what crates we want opened."
"Yeah," said Fred advancing on one of the other crates. "How about this one?"
"You're not checking anything until we see some cash," said the stranger aggressively, and at these words everyone was pointing wands.
Fred kicked the crate he was near.
"Empty, George," he confirmed.
"Oh dear," said George, sounding quite relaxed. "It looks like we'll be saying goodbye a little early this evening."
"Hand over the cash," breathed the stranger, "and I'll think about letting you live."
"Movement in the trees!" shouted Harry.
Everyone seemed to fire at once. Harry dived and fired a stunner at the third stranger who fell just as six or so more rushed out from the shadows.
"Let's go!" shouted Fred.
Harry dodged a stunner and then returned fire, felling two. Two of the group rushed over to attack Fred and George while one appeared to turn tail and run back into the shadows.
Harry turned and realised that more were emerging and attacking Fred and George. They were hopelessly outnumbered.
"Time to go, I think, bro!" shouted one of them.
"Agreed. Harry?"
"I'm okay!" he shouted back.
Harry waited until both brothers Disapparated with a simultaneous crack!
He wheeled around, making sure he was clear before Disapparating. Then he froze. Almost hidden in the shadows was the outline of a tall thin figure.
"Ron?" breathed Harry as a stunner whistled past his ear.
Harry turned and fired back towards the remaining attackers. There were only three. He assumed the others had melted away once Fred and George had escaped.
He turned back, intent upon finding Ron again, but he had moved. Harry scanned the shadows, desperate to see some sign of his old friend.
Hearing movement behind him, Harry turned.
Ron was now standing in front of the crates in full view.
Harry hurried over to him, but just before he got there a new cloaked figure stepped between them.
*
Harry slowed and finally halted himself just in front of the two figures. They were now quite alone and standing between the large cubic timber crates.
Harry raised his wand but neither of the other two reacted.
"So, how have you been, Ron?" he asked pleasantly. "We've all missed you."
Ron gave a derisive snort.
"I am rather worried about you, for myself."
"I bet you are," replied Ron coldly.
"I mean, you are hardly keeping very good company these days, are you?"
Ron just glowered back at him while his companion threw back his hood.
"We keep on meeting, don't we, Mr Ollivander?"
Ollivander continued to look at him appraisingly in silence.
"Come back to us, Ron," pleaded Harry. "I can't believe that you're entirely comfortable about dealing in stolen goods. I just hope you haven't got too involved."
"Come back?" Ron repeated incredulously.
"We need your help, Ron. I need you," he emphasised.
"Oh, sure. Come back and all will be forgiven? Come off it, Harry. You'll never trust me again, will you?"
"No, Ron, it won't be as simple as that. You can have my forgiveness, but you'll need to do much more to mend all the damage you've done. Hermione misses you terribly, and I don't think I've seen Ginny so upset."
"Ginny?"
"Ginny knows everything, Ron. Including the fact that you've been seen enjoying the company of this scum."
Ollivander smiled coldly.
"Take that back!" demanded Ron angrily, stepping forward and pointing his wand at Harry.
"Ron, Ollivander is evil. That's the best thing I can think to say about him. You saw what he is capable of! What can you possibly gain by siding with him?"
Ron was about to respond with a hex or two when Ollivander said calmly, "That will do, Ron. I'd like you to go back to the assembly point as agreed."
"But, you'll be alone," protested Ron.
"I'll be fine," Ollivander said reassuringly. "Go now."
Ron lowered his wand.
"Ron! Please listen to me!" pleaded Harry, but Ron had Disapparated away before he finished.
Harry swore into the night and Ollivander chuckled.
"Such a nice young man," drawled Ollivander. "His parents should be so proud of him. He's quite the most gullible and naive disciple I've got. Mind you, he has a worrying moral streak that is proving a little more difficult to remove that I'd have liked. Still, we have a little more time on our side."
"What did you use to bewitch him?"
"Nothing, I assure you, Mr Potter. No, such enchantments are rarely permanent, in my experience. His own resentments are far more effective reagents."
"What did you mean by a little more time?"
"My associates will not tolerate him for much longer. If he does not join in soon, he'll have to be eliminated."
"Eliminated? I assume he doesn't know this?"
"Quite! As I said, gullible and naïve. Incidentally, this evening would have been an ideal opportunity for him. The two unfortunates who were brewing the Caliga were selected because they were Mudbloods. Young Mr Weasley was directed to obtain the information telling us where and when the exchange was planned for."
"Did he?"
"He was expected to obtain the information by torturing them. Instead he found it scrawled on a scrap of parchment."
"How terrible for you," Harry said sarcastically.
"Indeed. He even intervened when the others wanted to entertain themselves while we waited."
"Entertain?"
"Foolish boy," said Ollivander sadly.
"Where is this assembly point you spoke about?"
"Oh, don't worry yourself about him. I won't let the others do it. They tend to be rather crude when it comes to killing."
"Where is he?"
"I mean, I'm sure that quick clean kills have their place; but where's the fun in that? No, I'll make sure he fully understands what it is to be a friend of Harry Potter. He's quite incapable of imagining the pain and suffering ahead of him. I might even persuade him to be even more indiscrete before the end."
"Where?" demanded Harry angrily.
Ollivander grinned back at him.
"You know," continued Ollivander, "he kept asking me why I kept smiling whenever I glanced over to these crates this evening."
Harry started as a dull bumping sound came from one of the crates.
Ollivander waited for Harry to look back at him before flicking his wand. As one, the crate lids all flew open.
Harry took a couple of steps back. He was surrounded by the crates, the insides of which were emitting a low glow.
In the corner of his eye, Harry detected movement.
He turned and gave an audible gasp as the first figure rose up and climbed out of the crate. More followed. He guessed they had been pack in three to a crate.
At first, Harry was sure these were Inferi. They had lifeless eyes and white translucent skin.
As they got closer, Harry realised that they had all received various injuries. A couple even had arms missing.
Hearing one getting a little too close from behind, Harry turned and fired a stunner. The red spell hit the figure square in the chest but had absolutely no effect.
Another lunged for him.
Harry dodged out of the way, but there were too many.
"This, Harry, is my gift to you," said Ollivander. "As you may have guessed, these are not true Inferi in that they are not quite dead yet.
"To be perfectly honest, they were originally intended for someone else. The thing you should know is that they are bewitched to follow you everywhere. Try to Disapparate, and they'll follow. Try to Portkey away, and they'll go with you.
"Of course, they are instructed to kill you if they get the chance. All they can do now is strangle or suffocate you, but that should be enough. I do hope you don't need much sleep."
"You are insane!" shouted Harry, trying to find a clear space and firing another stunner.
"Me? I'm not the one afraid to kill! Imagine that? The chosen one is too afraid to do the one thing he was chosen to do! How mad is that?!"
Harry was about to answer when another of the zombie like creatures lunged at him. Harry ran forward, taking advantage of their slow reflexes.
"Oh, you'd prefer to duel with me?" Ollivander asked mischievously. "Well, I can wait for a few minutes. Why don't you deal with them first, though. You'll find a certain Unforgivable Curse quite effective. Actually, it's one of the few things that will be effective."
Furious, Harry turned his back on Ollivander to face the advancing creatures.
He had never performed the Avada Kadavra curse before, not even in practise. He raised his wand uncertainly, but then hesitated.
He lowered the wand again.
"Ha!" cried Ollivander before laughing heartily.
Harry ignored him, clearing his mind and trying to think. He looked up into the dull eyes of the lead zombie.
These creatures were not truly alive. Their remaining life force was bewitched somehow. What he needed was a curse to remove that remaining life, but it need not be something that could be defended against.
His wand hand tingled as the Kemmynadow's magic boiled up inside him. He raised his wand and pointed it directly at the zombie.
As the blue-green curse erupted from the tip of his wand, Harry felt the full effect of the dark magic. This was the very first time he had evoked the Kemmynadow's dark magic whilst actually being in control of his emotions.
Harry twitched his wand, and the small army of zombies collapsed to the ground.
He turned to face Ollivander, who had stopped laughing.
"Well, well," he said quietly. "The Dark Lord was right. You do have potential."
"My offer still stands," said Harry. "Give yourself up to the Aurors."
Ollivander snorted as Harry advanced on him.
"Tell me where Ron has gone."
Ollivander smiled and looked up. Then he nodded to someone behind Harry.
Harry spun around and ducked just in time for the hex to miss him. Tardov emerged from under his invisibility cloak and fired again.
He shielded himself from Tardov's second attack, but the hex from Ollivander hit Harry square in the back.
He collapsed to the ground and fell into unconsciousness.