The Final Lesson
by Jardyn39
Chapter 8 - Alan Who?
Harry and Ron exchanged grins as they stood outside in the garden. They were supposed to be practising their Defence Against the Dark Arts, but they had become distracted by the sounds coming from one of the open upstairs windows.
"Mother!"
"But, Percy dear."
"Mother, I demand that you return my wand to me this instant!"
"You're not well enough to do magic yet, dear."
"Mother, I'm fine! I need to get back to work. If you would be kind enough to remove the wards, I'll be away from here."
"Percy, you need to rest."
"No, Mother. The Minister will be worried."
"He hasn't contacted us at all, dear. He obviously wants you to have an undisturbed recovery."
"He hasn't? He does know I'm here, doesn't he?"
"Well, actually, Percy dear, your father and I agreed it would be for the best if we didn't tell anyone you were here."
"WHAT?"
"This really is the last place anyone would expect to find you, isn't it dear?"
"Well, yes. I suppose that is true. I still-"
"Exactly," Mrs Weasley said firmly, cutting across him. "Now, can I get you any more lunch?"
"Thank you, but no, Mother. Where is my wand?"
"You won't need it to eat your lunch. You can discuss everything with your father this evening."
"I'm not discussing anything with him. It's bad enough that I should be forced to remain under the same roof!"
"Very well, Percy dear. I'm not too disappointed to hear you say that. Mind you, you're not going anywhere without your father's approval."
"Mother! This is outrageous!"
"Yes it is, Percy dear, but at least you are safe."
Ron sniggered as Hermione came out with a disapproving look on her face.
"I thought you two were practising?"
"We are," lied Ron. "Well, we're just on our way. Aren't we Harry?"
Harry smiled at her and said, "Come on, Ron. We'd better make a start. Will you join us, Hermione?" he added hopefully.
"No, thank you. I'd like to, but I need to catch up with my cataloguing."
She turned and went straight back inside, leaving Harry in no doubt that she hadn't entirely forgiven him for his seeming lack of support when she finally managed to tackle Ron.
Ron had successfully evaded all of Hermione's earlier attempts to talk to him about his use of the Rodium Hex and had dismissed Fred and George's concerns as mere speculation, insisting he'd hardly spent any time down Knockturn Alley.
Harry could tell Ron wasn't exactly amenable to discussing these things, but as concerned as he was becoming, it seemed that an interrogation would not get him to talk. It got to the stage where Harry knew Ron would stubbornly refuse to talk even if he wanted to.
Trying to get this message across subtly while Hermione was becoming more frustrated at Ron's prevarication hadn't been the easiest things to do, especially when Harry privately admired the way Ron managed to avoid answering specifics. Harry never managed to avoid answering anything of Hermione these days, not that he needed to try very often.
Harry managed to convince himself that if there was anything seriously wrong, Ron would tell him in his own good time. However, even as he came to this conclusion, Harry felt a little uneasy in himself.
*
"I think she's wasting her time," said Ron as they walked over to their preferred practising area at the bottom of the garden.
"I notice you waited until she was out of earshot before saying that," said Harry with a smile.
"Yeah, well I'm not that stupid."
"Hermione is convinced that the records of sales the Ministry confiscated from Borgin and Burke's might just give us a clue what the other Horcruxes might be."
"But you think she's wasting her time too, right?"
"Well, I don't think they could be items they had while Voldemort worked there. He'd have made sure that the records were amended, anyway. If he had wanted any item afterwards, he'd have used someone else to obtain them for him."
"Yes," agreed Ron, recovering from the involuntary shudder he'd made. "Besides, most of the names recorded just had to be faked."
"True. Still, we might get lucky. So, you ready to show me how to do your Rodium Hex?" he asked, raising his wand.
"You're kidding, right? After all the fuss you two made! No, Harry, I'm sorry. I think I'll just forget that one completely."
"As you want," said Harry easily, who now knew exactly how to both cast and defend himself against the Rodium family of hexes thanks to the Kemmynadow book. As they prepared to begin, Harry wondered how many more things he would end up keeping from his best friend.
*
"Harry, why don't we ever go to the Order's Headquarters to practise?" asked Ron after they had finished their practise. He could no longer refer to the building as "Sirius'" or "Grimmauld Place" due to the new Fidelius Charm.
"Er, the Dursleys are still there, remember?" replied Harry incredulously.
Ron shrugged but Harry thought he had the airs of someone troubled by something.
"What is it, Ron?"
Ron did not answer at once.
"Why haven't you told me the secret?"
"Which secret?"
"The location of the Order's Headquarters."
"I haven't kept it from you. Very few people know now that the Order no longer uses the place. I suspect they have a new headquarters somewhere, actually. I've no idea where that is, before you ask."
"So how come when I tried to tell Hermione, I couldn't?"
Harry considered before answering.
"Look," Harry began carefully, "since all the problems with the Dursleys, the secret protected by the new Fidelius Charm is a little different."
"In what way?"
"I can't tell you Ron."
"See? I knew you didn't trust me!"
"No, Ron. I can't tell you."
Ron swore but then appeared to take in what Harry had just said.
"You're not the secret keeper?"
"No, I just cast the spells."
Harry didn't know why he held back from telling Ron the entire truth. There were some things he could tell him, after all.
"So, who is it?"
"I don't know. Well, that isn't entirely right. I think I probably did know, but the charm is preventing me from remembering properly."
"How does that work?"
"Well, you remember that Dumbledore and everyone believed Sirius was my parent's secret keeper, but in fact they switched to Wormtail at the last minute?"
"Yes. So Dumbledore might have cast the charm and yet had no idea who the secret keeper was?"
"Exactly."
"I suppose that is the safest way," agreed Ron thoughtfully. "But wasn't Dumbledore the secret keeper for the Order?"
"Yes. I imagine that if I'd used myself, then I'd remember."
Ron nodded.
"I'd have done it," said Ron abruptly. "If you'd asked, I'd have been secret keeper."
Harry nodded and smiled.
"Yes, Ron. I can't even remember how I chose, but I'm sure you were one of the first I considered asking."
"Would you even need to ask?"
"How do you mean?"
"Could you become a secret keeper without even knowing?"
"I doubt it, Ron. How would you know that something was secret?"
"So, the secret keeper knows who they are."
"Ron, is it really in any of our interests to discover who the secret keeper really is?"
"Fair point. Just curious, you know?"
Harry was left feeling just a little uncomfortable. He would be glad when Hermione got back so he could discuss everything with her.
Of course, he was sure she would point out that the three of them had speculated on many such things in the past. The only difference this time was the seriousness of the implications of the secret being exposed.
*
On the following Sunday, Harry and Ron were up in the twin's old bedroom studying quietly and surrounded by stacks of books that Harry had brought back from the Room of Requirement. These books were generally from the new collection that Hermione had recently obtained during her break.
Things had improved between the three of them, mainly due to the fact that no further mention was made of the Ron's trips down Knockturn Alley. Indeed, Harry was beginning to think that Fred and George might well have been exaggerating the time Ron had skived off.
Hermione opened the door and came in to check on their progress, taking a break from her own studies which she generally preferred to do in the Room of Requirement.
"How are you getting on?" she asked interestedly.
Ron pushed his notes across the table top to her and stretched. The table was actually a flat timber top balanced precariously on several crates that Harry suspected contained Bouncing Beans. He had insisted that Ron should not open them to find out.
Yawning widely, Ron said, "I couldn't find much of what you wanted."
"No, Ron, this is good," she said, quickly scanning his notes. "You've got most of the key points. There is this one thing, though. The Droopike who discovered all of the Fire Crystal properties isn't the same wizard who first observed the phenomenon. That was actually his father. Otherwise you've done a very good job of this."
"Thanks," Ron said hesitantly. "Hermione, it sounds like you already know must of this stuff."
"Yes," she said absently, now making minor corrections to Ron's notes.
"But why did you want me to research something you already knew?"
Harry looked up from his book at this point, also curious to know this.
"Sorry, Ron. Research?"
"Yes, Hermione. Did you forget that you'd already done this?"
"No, Ron," said Hermione blankly. "I wanted you to go through this for your benefit, not mine."
"We've been at this for hours!" Ron complained loudly. "I thought we were looking up these notable Ravenclaws in case they might give us a clue what the other," he mouthed Horcruxes silently, "might be!"
"Well, that's a possibility," admitted Hermione.
"Only a possibility? Hermione, just exactly what benefit was I supposed to get from wasting four precious Sunday morning hours?" Ron asked pointedly. "You know this is my only day off!"
"Ron, now we've left Hogwarts we may have lost the benefit of attending lessons, but it's still vitally important that we keep up our education."
Harry was too stunned to say anything. He too had been diligently preparing notes upon Hermione's assignment. He never dreamed this was anything but helping her with the Horcrux research. Neither of them had questioned the strange assortment of tasks she had set them, both more than happy to be able to take some of the burden if they could.
Ron slammed his book closed and stormed out of the room.
"Ron, I never said," Hermione began to say. "I'm sorry," she added quietly, but he'd gone.
She turned red faced to Harry.
"He'll come around," said Harry gently.
"I suppose you feel the same way?"
"It would have been better if you'd told us the truth from the beginning," said Harry. "Actually, I found my assignment quite interesting."
"Yes, Professor McGonagall thought you would," she said, sitting down next to him.
"She's been setting my homework?" he asked with half a laugh.
"She's been giving us all assignments. She warned I might have to be a little discrete how I approached you both, though. I didn't think either of you would bother if I told you the truth."
Harry smiled and reached out for her hand, trying not to think of the many hours he'd spent doing homework in the belief that it was helping Hermione's research.
*
Later Hermione returned to the bedroom clutching an enormous black bound book. She shot a disappointed look at Ron's untouched work as she came in. Ron hadn't returned.
She sat down at the end of the bed Harry was still reading at and said in an excited whisper, "I think I've found something!"
Harry closed his book complete with his assignment notes and sat up with interest.
"What is it?"
"Here!" she said, thrusting the open book towards him.
Harry immediately realised that it was one of the ledgers from Borgin and Burke.
"Read the third entry under the Seventh of July," directed Hermione, who was literally bouncing with anticipation as she sat on the mattress.
Harry found the date and moved his index finger down to the third entry.
"Golden statuette of Rowena Ravenclaw with an eagle circling her," he read aloud from the tiny, neat handwriting. "Rumoured to have belonged to Ravenclaw."
Harry frowned and looked up.
"Why would Ravenclaw have owned a statuette of herself? Isn't this just a memento?"
"Yes, Harry, the statuette was a memento. I think it was added later. The statuette is on a small base. It is the base that might have belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw."
"How do you know that?" asked Harry, re-reading the entry. "It doesn't say anything about a base in the entry. Besides, the names entered for the seller and buyer here just have to be false."
Harry looked up to see Hermione grinning at him.
"I've seen it, Harry!"
"Where? When?"
"Well, it was in the same shop I got all those books from while I was away with Mum and Dad."
"I see," said Harry slowly.
"Obviously, the statuette that I saw might have only been a copy of the original," continued Hermione. "Let's go and find it, Harry," she whispered, her face alight with anticipation.
Harry closed the heavy ledger and placed it on the top of the already wobbling stack of books beside the bed.
He reached out and took hold of her hand.
"Of course we'll go," he began gently.
"What is it, Harry?"
"Hermione, the chances of you seeing this very same object has to be pretty remote. If it really was Ravenclaw's, it would be priceless. Would it really be on display in a remote country bookshop?"
"You think I just want to see my parents again, don't you?"
Harry nodded.
"They've gone from there now, Harry," she replied in a small voice. "I know they won't be there."
"But you might feel closer to them there?"
*
John Bateman gently held Mary Happell's arm before they crossed to the other side of the road. A white van travelling at twice the speed limit passed them, its engine straining to maintain maximum revs.
"I can cross the road on my own, you know?" she spat.
"I'm sorry, but you didn't look like you'd seen that delivery van."
"He was going terribly fast for such a narrow street, wasn't he? I've half a mind to report his licence number to the Police."
Bateman rolled his eyes and stepped out into the now deserted road.
"What?"
"Some fugitive from the Authorities you are," he muttered.
"There are young children playing along this street," she complained, pointing at an abandoned tricycle outside one of the garden fences.
A high speed train thundered past along the railway tracks that were right behind the houses.
Mary started and grabbed Bateman's arm.
"What a ridiculous place to build a railway line. How do these people get any peace?" she said as soon as the noise had died away.
"People get used to things," Bateman said quietly. "Besides, sometimes the only affordable properties are in places that have nuisances close by."
"I suppose. Is this the right street?"
"The next one, I think," said Bateman.
"Why isn't she living in official accommodation?"
"Not everyone appreciates living around families of service personnel all the time. Besides, they can inspect you at any time and the subsidy isn't worth as much as it once was."
"I didn't know that," Mary said thoughtfully.
They walked on in silence for a while. This she asked, "Why did she really move all the way out here?"
Batemen smiled down at her but didn't answer.
Presently they came to the house they were looking for. The low timber fence had chipped and peeling white paint and was leaning inwards at an alarming angle. They didn't attempt to open the gate. Instead they squeezed past the rusting hire skip that was parked on the driveway.
Mary peered over the edge and inspected the skip contents. These appeared to be broken masonry, concrete and a wide assortment of broken sanitary fittings.
Bateman went first and pulled Mary out of the way of one of the projecting lugs on the skip that were used to lift it. He seemed to know when she wasn't paying attention to where she was walking.
"Thanks," she muttered when she realised what she had almost walked into.
Bateman reached up to press the doorbell, but all he found were a pair of exposed wires poking out of a hole in the doorframe.
Instead he used the metal knocker in the middle of the door. It was shaped like a cat.
After a few moments the door opened.
"Sergeant? What on earth are you doing here?"
"We're sorry to disturb you," said Bateman, "but it's important we speak."
"You'd better come in then."
*
They were shown into the living room. Mary took in the bare floorboards, half-stripped wallpaper and the sanded down woodwork.
"You're looking well, Terri, I must say," said Bateman with obvious warmth. "You remember Mary Happell don't you?"
"Yes, of course," said Terri, smiling at Mary. "Weren't you called-?"
"Mary uses different names according to where she is," interrupted Bateman. "It rained earlier today, and as we were outside she's called Mary today."
Terri laughed and said, "Please, take a seat. The dust covers are clean, even if they don't look it."
They sat and Terri perched herself on an armrest. Mary saw she was wearing a man's shirt under a very old and baggy set of overalls. She also had a considerable amount of white paint on her face and hands.
Terri didn't look as thin in the face as Mary remembered her, but she looked much better for it. Her hair was still short, but much longer than the crew-cut she had before.
"So, how are you?"
"Oh, we're fine according to my last check up," Terri answered with a smile and rubbing both her hands down her abdomen. As she flattened her overalls, Mary understood rather than really saw the small bulge she was highlighting.
"I'm beginning to show," Terri admitted. "It won't be long before nothing fits me at all."
"Nonsense. You look radiant," said Bateman, surprising Mary with his uncharacteristic manner.
"When are you due?" asked Mary, already working out how long Terri might have been pregnant.
"Only another five months to go."
"Had we known we would never have sent you," said Mary.
"I only found out after we returned from the Archive job. Of course, I would have wanted to go even if we'd known."
Mary smiled uneasily but nodded.
"Terri," said Bateman seriously, "there have been quite a few changes since the Archive raid. We'd appreciate it if you could keep our visit to yourself for now. The fewer people who know what we are up to the better."
"Sure," Terri answered at once. "I knew both of you were under investigation. I was interviewed myself several times."
"What is your current status?"
"They've suspended me pending an inquiry."
"Terri," began Mary, "we found out you were interviewed by Colonel Falcon only a few weeks before he disappeared."
Terri raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"How on earth did you find out?"
"Don't ask," said Bateman.
"He threatened to hit a few people," said Mary.
"That would do it," agreed Terri with a smile.
"Actually, we found out very little," continued Mary. "Did you meet with him?"
"Yes. We spoke several times."
"Why didn't you tell us?" asked Bateman, sounding hurt.
"You'd have dropped me from the team in a second if you thought I was in any way co-operating with Falcon."
"Were you?"
"No!"
"So, what did he want?"
"He claimed to know about me and Alan. He threatened to expose us unless I helped him. I refused, of course."
"What was his reaction?"
"He didn't give up. He kept cornering me and threatening me. The strange thing was, the very last time I saw him, he was really pleased I hadn't co-operated. It was like he was testing to see if he could trust me with something."
"Did he?"
"Yes."
*
"Penny for your thoughts?" asked Bateman as they climbed the steep incline of the railway bridge. They were headed for the train station.
"I still can't quite fathom why Falcon would trust her like that."
"Actually, I think you've just answered your own question. He did it because it is so unlikely. It needed to be someone we'd find out about, but at the same time would be dismissed as too unlikely by anyone else."
"It was an awful risk, from Falcon's viewpoint."
"I suspect he was running out of options by that time," said Bateman darkly. "Anyway, she said the Journal was encrypted."
"That is something else that I find rather unlikely. He knew nothing about codes."
"Well, let's find the Journal and see for ourselves."
They entered the small ticket hall and enquired about ticket prices. They conferred quietly before buying tickets.
"We've got just enough cash between us for one way economy tickets. I'm afraid we won't have enough for a decent meal, but I know someone in Kendal that might help us out."
*
Later on the train, Mary came out of her trance like thoughts and touched Bateman on his arm.
"Who is Alan?"
"Alan Duke."
"No! Really? How long have you known?"
"They only met when Terri joined the team in the summer. I realised something was up almost straight away and I confronted them with my suspicions. They admitted it at once. If they hadn't, I'd have dropped them both."
"What should you have done?"
"Regulations prohibit such relationships, and generally for good reason. If one party gets hurt or captured, the other one can't be relied upon to think and act rationally. Human nature takes over."
"So, why did you let them stay?"
"To be honest, I didn't intend for both of them to stay. They are both good at their jobs, and I seriously considered dropping Terri. You know I wasn't keen on her joining us, but she has more than proved her worth. In the end, I didn't want to lose either of them."
"Now they know, will they be in serious trouble?"
"No, not unless someone has an axe to grind. Usually the ranking officer finds a solution. As they've moved all the way out here, I suspect it has already been sorted. There may be a reprimand or two, but that should be all. Alan's due for a promotion, but hopefully it'll just be delayed."
"I'm glad," said Mary, relaxing back into her seat. "She did look radiant, didn't she?"
Bateman smiled and nodded.
"Get some sleep," advised Mary. "I'll keep an eye out."
Bateman looked at her doubtfully for a moment before nodding and relaxing back. He privately thought she would be asleep before he was, but decided that the risk was minimal. The train they were on wouldn't even stop for two hours anyway.
*
Bateman opened his eyes and looked around. He was alarmed not to see Mary anywhere. He stood at once to look over the high backed seats in the carriage.
He placed his hand inside his deep coat pocket and gripped his pistol before making his way along the centre aisle.
"Honestly, I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"
Bateman spun around to see Mary smiling at him and holding two plastic cups.
He relaxed and reversed back into the group of facing seats he'd been sitting in.
"Why didn't you wake me?" he said gruffly, taking one of the cups and lifting the plastic lid.
He sipped the scalding tea.
"What?" he asked, seeing the expression she was pulling at him. "I'm always grumpy when I wake up."
"Obviously. No, I was just wondering," said Mary thoughtfully as she sat opposite.
"Wondering what?" he asked, but then he realised she was back in her trance like state, staring at her white cup but not really seeing it.
After what seemed several minutes she lifted the lid off her cup and sipped.
"What?" she asked.
Bateman just smiled and shook his head.
*
They exited the train station and walked out of earshot of anyone so they could talk.
"Should we take a taxi?"
"We can't afford it," said Bateman. "We still have quite a way to go."
"There's a car hire place over there."
"Again, we'd need money for a deposit as well as stumping up the hire cash. Besides, they need to see full identification first."
"Oh, right. Where are you going?"
"Just for a wander around the car park," he said casually.
Mary caught up with him and grabbed his arm.
"You are not going to steal someone's car!"
"Relax, will you? These cars won't be missed for the entire day. These belong to commuters."
"You don't know that!"
"It's also cheap, provided we get one with a full tank," he continued, ignoring her protests.
"No!"
"We have to be careful. Some of these have decent alarms these days. Besides, I only know how to hot wire certain types. Hey, how about that one?"
Bateman smiled down at her and only then appeared to take in how angry she was.
"I am not getting into any stolen vehicle," she said firmly.
"Beggars can't be choosers," he said gently.
"Do what you want, but I'm not going anywhere in a stolen car."
She turned and stomped back out of the car park entrance. Bateman waited a moment but then followed dejectedly.
"What, didn't they have one you liked?"
"After all the fuss you made, I suspect that I'd have been reported driving anything out of there actually."
"What a shame."
"I was wondering, since you didn't like my idea, if you knew how we could get there?"
"Didn't you say you had a friend around here?"
"You want me to steal his car?"
Mary swiped his arm and groaned seeing they were at the bottom of a hill.
"Come on," he said reassuringly, and together they began climbing.
*
"Shut up and drive!" said Mary through gritted teeth as she smiled and waved. Bateman wiped his eyes and desperately tried not to start laughing again.
He wound down his window a couple of inches and said, "Thanks again, Jim. See you soon, mate."
"Drive carefully," said Jim with a final wave as they accelerated gently down the quiet road and out into the traffic.
Several strained minutes later, Mary appeared to relax a little and Bateman thought he might risk a little conversation.
He was just trying to decide what to say, when Mary said, "I can't believe you gave him my telephone number."
"I was only trying to be helpful. You and Jim seemed to hit it off right away."
"Hardly. If we hadn't needed his help I'd have walked right out of there."
"Why? Jim's alright."
"I just wish he didn't keep staring at me like that."
"It's just his way. You can ask him not to do it on your first date."
"How do you even know my home number, anyway? I hardly know it myself!"
"I don't know your telephone number," admitted Bateman. "Poor Jim's going to be calling the only number I use regularly, my local takeaway."
"That was rather cruel."
"See, I knew you had a soft spot for Jim!"
"What was in that carrier bag he kept with him the whole time?"
"I've never asked," Bateman admitted. "I suppose I was afraid he might tell me it was a memento of this wife. She left him some years ago; or at least, that's what he says. It's just that from certain angles, I've thought it could be a preserved head in there."
"Oh, don't say that!" said Mary, sounding horrified and covering her mouth with her hand.
Bateman laughed loudly.
"I'm only kidding. Those are his indoor bowls. He goes to a local club. He uses a carrier bag because it's supposed to be lucky. Honestly."
Mary looked at him doubtfully, clearly thinking the head memento story was much more credible.
"I'm still changing my telephone number."
Bateman laughed again as they joined the dual carriageway and sped under a sign directing them North.