The Final Lesson
by Jardyn39
Chapter 3 - Breaking and Entering
Mary woke to find herself lying on her living room carpet. She attempted to move but found her muscles stiff and cold from lying on the floor.
She relaxed and took in a deep calming breath.
The distinctive smell the wool fibre carpet gave off was oddly reassuring. She pushed herself up and looked around. The room lights were all on now and the curtains were drawn.
There was no sign of Bateman's body. Where she had expected it to be there was a blanket she recognised as coming from her linen cupboard. Perhaps someone had covered the blood with it.
She was about to lean forward and grab hold of the blanket when she heard muffled voices.
Mary desperately looked around for the handgun. She must have dropped it right beside herself, but there was no sign of it.
The voices grew louder and closer.
Mary scanned the room for ideas. There was no realistic way out of the room. The windows were sealed, and in any event they were too high up to jump from.
She had only two choices.
She could either lie still on the carpet and pretend to be unconscious or she could try to brazen her way out.
Mary decided not to continue lying on the floor. She had no idea who these people were who were obviously inside her flat. She couldn't take the chance that they wouldn't shoot her where she lay.
Gingerly she got up and sat down on one of her two comfortable, high backed reading chairs.
She straightened her clothes as best she could and prepared to receive her guests.
The door opened.
"Good evening, Ma'am."
Mary stared at the man who removed his peaked cap and took two steps into the room.
"Charles?" Mary asked weakly.
"Yes, Ma'am," the Night Porter replied with a smile. "I came back on duty a few minutes ago. Are you alright? You look a little shaken."
"But, I thought something terrible had happened to you, Charles."
"It was only a dental appointment, Ma'am. Nothing to get upset about."
Mary felt a little light headed as relief flooded through her.
"I'm sorry, Charles. You must think me quite foolish."
"Not at all, Ma'am," he said reassuringly. "You should hear the Missus going on about it sometimes!"
Mary made an effort to return his smile. What she wanted to do was scream for him to run and get out of there while he still could.
This was a foolish notion, of course. If there was any danger remaining, such an outburst would definitely seal his fate.
Mary caught the end of what Charlie was telling her.
"I'd better be off to relieve young Geoff on the desk downstairs. I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Ma'am, but I wanted to let you know I was fine."
Charlie turned to leave. He was halfway out the door when he added, "Oh, I've taken copies of all the notes from the building security seminar this morning. I'll leave them downstairs for you. Good evening to you, Ma'am."
"Thank you, Charles," Mary called after him as the door closed.
*
Mary wiped a tear from her face with a shaking hand as the kitchen door opened. She looked up to see John Bateman's massive figure framed in the doorway.
He raised his eyebrows and said, "Hard to believe that Miss Alice would get emotional over one old man."
"That old man isn't much older that you, Bear."
Bateman snorted and entered the room.
"I can't believe you thought I'd killed him," he said seriously.
"What else could I think? You and his replacement should have got your stories straight."
"How was I supposed to know he had a dental appointment after his training day?"
Mary studied him carefully as he crossed the room and sat opposite her. The chair creaked slightly under his weight.
"You always seem to find my favourite chair," she commented.
"Mine too, actually," Bateman replied. "Excellent vantage point of the door from here and a solid masonry wall behind."
They were quite a long moment.
"I thought I'd killed you," Mary said, her voice cracking.
"You very nearly did," Bateman admitted, turning his head and pointing to a group of large plasters stuck over his left ear.
"Is it bad?"
"No, just a flesh wound. It took me a while to stem the bleeding though. Your bathroom is in quite a state, I'm afraid."
Mary nodded, looking down at the blanket. She could see blood on the carpet now.
"The blanket was for you," said Bateman. "I threw it over the blood when your friend Charlie rang the doorbell."
"His name is Charles," Mary said acerbically. "And while we are talking about names, Miss Alice is a name I only use professionally. I'd be grateful if you didn't call be that outside of the office."
Bateman rolled his eyes.
"Well, Miss Happell, what I was about to suggest before you shot at me," he said pointedly, "was maybe we should work together to get to the bottom of all this."
Mary frowned slightly.
"Look, we were all split up after the raid on the Archive. That's when I found out there might be a traitor amongst us, but I'm convinced that our little group was going to be split up anyway. Becoming suspects was just a convenience that was too good to pass up."
"Go on," said Mary.
"You were right about the Polygraph test. I did take one and passed with flying colours. Even so, I still wasn't allowed to continue my duties with respect to fighting Voldemort."
"Well, I believed you were the chief suspect."
"After you, you mean?"
"Yes, but I have the advantage of knowing that it wasn't me."
"Alright," said Bateman. "Will you help me?"
"Aren't you taking quite a risk? As far as you are concerned, I might actually be working against you."
"And my memory modification might have concealed my treachery," he reminded her.
"I suppose that is correct."
"Here," he said, offering her handgun back with a smile. "Just aim better next time."
Mary recoiled back from the gun in horror.
"No! I won't carry that thing."
Bateman shrugged and pocketed the weapon.
"We need to get out of here. When they find out that we are in contact and haven't killed each other, we'll both become fugitives."
*
Mary threw a small assortment of clothes and toiletries into a small suitcase and hurried to meet an impatient Bateman at the fire escape.
"Are you insane?"
"What?"
"You're going on the lamb, not on holiday!"
"What? This is the smallest case I have."
"Haven't you got a rucksack or something?"
"No. Actually, I do still have my old school sports bag."
"Use that then; and hurry!"
A few minutes later they left the building by the rear fire escape, and through the underground car park. At the exit to the car park, Mary had expected them to go down one of the small side streets. Instead, Bateman led her down a narrow alley behind the neighbouring properties.
"Where are we going?"
"We need to get away from here without being seen. This way avoids the roads and gets us close to the Tube station."
"This goes all the way to the Tube?"
"No," he said, climbing up over a brick wall.
"What are you doing?" Mary whispered urgently.
Bateman reached down and grabbed her bag from her shoulder. He threw it over the wall before answering her.
"We are going to break into this house."
"I most certainly am not!" she said indignantly, but Bateman had gone. Mary climbed the wall and went over, determined to have the last say on the matter.
She let herself down on the other side and looked around for Bateman. A soft jingling of breaking glass told her he was already breaking into the property.
Grabbing her bag, she hurried to catch up with him. As she approached, she realised why Bateman had selected this property. It was obviously deserted.
"Watch out for the rats," he advised before disappearing from view again.
This alarming advice distracted Mary completely as she followed nervously into the cold and damp smelling building.
"Here, hold my torch a moment?" asked Bateman, coming to a halt.
Mary took the battery torch. She had no idea where in the building she was now, nor any idea where Bateman thought he was leading her.
She shone the torchlight around the room and the narrow beam picked out a few packing crates.
"What is that appalling smell?" she asked.
"Would you mind holding the torch so I can actually see?"
"Oh! Sorry," she said with a start. "Where do you want me to point it?"
"At the door in front of me."
She did so. The door was boarded up on the outside and had bars on the inside. Bateman was holding something up to one of the door jambs.
"Should we try the windows?"
"No, the bars are even heftier than this door. Besides, there would be a lot of broken glass around to contend with as well."
"Oh," she said softly. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a burglar."
"No kidding. Hold the torch still!"
"I'm doing my best!"
Out of the darkness came the sound of timber splintering. Suddenly there was a crash and street lighting flooded down into the open door.
"Oh, you were trying to open that door!"
Bateman mumbled something and kicked the bundle of rags laying at the threshold. The bundle immediately shouted and began swearing loudly at being woken up in such a manner.
Bateman reached behind and grabbed Mary by her forearm. He then dragged her outside and up the worn stone steps that lead up to the street level, nudging aside the many discarded empty beer bottles and cans with his feet.
When he paused to peer cautiously out through the iron railings, Mary twisted herself around intending to apologise to the tramp they'd just disturbed. There was no sign of him though. Perhaps he was investigating the now open building, she wondered.
"Alright, I think it's clear," said Bateman. "Now listen carefully, we climb out of here and we walk calmly and confidently to the Tube. We're just on an evening out."
"But," began Mary.
"And we won't need to advertise ourselves by chattering," he added darkly.
*
Bateman slid a key into the cylinder mortice lock and said, "I seriously considered keeping you blindfolded, actually."
"Why, is this place secret?"
"No, but it is a little untidy."
Bateman opened the door and crouched down to unhook a small black wire that stretched across the hallway. Then he stood and stitched the light on.
"Come in and close the door," he advised. "Now, stay here for a moment while I disable the other booby-traps."
"You've wired you own home with explosives?"
"I can't afford a burglar alarm," Bateman replied from within one of the other rooms. "Besides, in this area most of the kids know how to bypass the alarms."
"Yes, I would imagine so," agreed Mary, standing in the middle of the small hallway and looking up at the feeble unshaded bulb hanging from the ceiling pendant.
Bateman re-emerged and said, "All clear. You can come in if you'd like."
"You have remembered where you put all of your devices, haven't you?"
*
"You've actually been living here?" said Mary, looking around the small kitchen with undisguised horror.
"Off and on. It's not actually mine, but a friend of a friend lets me stay here occasionally."
"How kind of them," she replied with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"We need to decide what to do."
"Obviously we need to find Falcon's Journal," said Mary. "How much do you remember?"
"My memories are quite disjointed, actually. I remember finding Falcon, seeing him mouth something and someone else telling me what he said. Then Falcon died."
"That was the first time you were aware that there might be a traitor?"
"I think so. I mean, yes, provided my memory hasn't been modified."
Mary nodded.
"I just feel that my lack of clear memories is going to hinder us considerably."
"No, John. Your memory was modified in respect of a few specific things only. Don't worry about your judgement being impaired, because it isn't."
"Did you trust me?"
"Yes, I trusted you implicitly. I selected you for your assignment on the basis of your reputation and as I came to know you properly I confided in you entirely. That's why your apparent duplicity came as so much of a blow, of course. I liked to think I had your trust as well."
"Who else did I trust?"
"Well, Harry, obviously. But I don't know how to contact him."
"Harry?" said Bateman, shaking his head. "How long did I know him for?"
"Only for a few weeks in the summer. I believe you helped him considerably. He was rather vulnerable when you first met him, having suffered yet another very close bereavement.
"He only ever spoke of you in the fondest terms. He, of course, was your first choice to help you raid the Archive. I'm afraid I don't know any of the actual events that followed."
"I don't even remember what his voice sounds like."
"Oh, much like any young man. He does betray some of the things he's endured when he's reminded of things, sometimes. He reminded me a little of you when I first met him, actually."
"I wonder if I'll ever meet him. He must have something. I can't imagine why else I'd take a boy on a military operation."
"You didn't take him just for his skills as a wizard. You took him mainly in order that he should learn."
"Learn what?"
"I wonder how permanent your memory modifications are?" asked Mary, changing the subject. She reached into her bag and brought out a small notebook and pencil.
"Do you recognise this symbol?" she asked after drawing a symbol on the pad.
"Yes, that's the logo on all out Wizarding supplies. Weasley. That's the name. Twins."
"It was Harry who personally introduced you to the Weasley twins. He also funded the development of quite a few of their inventions."
"I don't remember."
"Give it time," she said, getting up from the table and patting him on the shoulder. "I'd like to freshen up. Which way to the bathroom?"
Bateman was lost in thought as Mary gave up waiting for a response and went back to the narrow hallway in search of the bathroom.
He turned hearing her return and cough gently behind him.
"There seems to be a wire connected to the cistern?"
"Right!" said Bateman, jumping up from the table. "I always forget that one."
*
Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the Room of Requirement. Almost immediately the each of the seven fires died and the lanterns around the circular room came into life.
Harry lifted the Dumbledore's Kemmynadow spell book of its usual shelf and brought it over to the table in the centre of the room.
He sat and contemplated the cover before opening it.
Harry wished more than anything that Hermione was here with him. He had been shaken by Ron's use of the Rodium hex on him, but it wasn't the hex so much as Ron's easy use of it that concerned him.
He opened the book and withdrew his wand. Holding his outstretched left hand over the outline in the book, he allowed the book to pull his hand down onto the page.
Instantly the dark magic surged, making his fingers tingle with anticipation.
The familiar contents page was now circling him.
Harry pointed his wand at the Hexes section making a more detailed contents page appear. Using his wand he slowed the letters to a crawl while he found the entry he was looking for.
There was nothing like Rodium that he could see, though. He tried looking in a further couple of sub-sections but then abandoned that and went back to the main contents again.
This time he selected the Master Index.
Hundreds of entries appeared and swirled around him, several entries going in the opposite direction to the rest.
Occasionally there were foot high single capital letters swimming amongst the chaos.
Harry twisted around. There! He pointed his wand at the "R" and then all the entries beginning with that letter came into view.
He scanned the entries until he found Rodium. Harry aimed his wand at it and the swarm vanished leaving only six or so entries floating around the "R."
Harry frowned, wondering why there were so many.
He selected one at random but discovered, when the full text came up, that it was only a footnote to another spell or curse.
He tried another, and then another until only one entry remained.
Harry was sure this final entry was actively avoiding his aim. It appeared to swim away whenever he got close.
Finally, he managed to select it, but instead of text and diagrams appearing as usual, the air was empty apart from a rotating border at floor level. It was almost as if the book was reluctant to show him this hex.
This was strange in itself; the Kemmynadow book was full of dark magic and it usually "pushed" him to accept more information than he was comfortable with.
Out of frustration, Harry muttered, "Oh, come on! I want to see."
A diagram shimmied into view. It was of a victim being hit by an electric blue light. Then the victim got up and stood there for a moment. Then his face distorted with agony and he fell, apparently dead.
"Show me the counter-curse," demanded Harry.
Dark red Runic lettering flowed over his left hand and up his arm. Harry could hear the incantations in his mind as the lettering reached his wand hand.
Harry shuddered as the book taught him. When the incantations stopped and the lettering faded, Harry knew exactly how dangerous the Rodium hex was.
He tried to lift his hand from the book, but the Kemmynadow resisted.
It had more to show him.
Harry turned away from the new diagram that appeared, but it followed his sightline.
Knowing he had no choice, he looked properly. It was a tree diagram, showing the relationships between an entire family of hexes and curses based upon the Rodium principle.
"Ron," breathed Harry. "Just what have you got yourself into?"