Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER SIX: Peele And Dryden

Sunlight was already streaming through his window when Albus jerked upright. The dormitory was empty. This was both good and bad news; he may not have to deal with his bunkmates, but he was also inarguably late. Dressing at breakneck speed, he was soon flying through the common room, out the portrait hole, and down flight after flight of stairs into the Great Hall, where (he paused to say "thank you" to the enchanted ceiling) most students were still eating breakfast. He noticed Professor Longbottom moving toward them as he slid onto the bench beside Rose, who was wolfing down what looked to be her second helping of eggs and toast.

"Don't make yourself sick," he told her breathlessly as he poured himself some pumpkin juice. "You'll mess up your first day back."

"Blokes in glass houses, Albus," she retorted. "Fancied a bit of a lie-in, did we?"

"Couldn't sleep last night - took me forever to drop off."

"Why? Something you ate?"

"No, nothing like that."

Her brow creased for a moment before her face fell. "Oh Al, they didn't, not again!"

Albus would really rather she didn't make a fuss. "Of course they did."

"But we haven't even been at school twenty-four hours!"

"It's not their fault I continue to exist."

Her mouth opened as if to loose several unkind words about the other boys in Albus's dormitory, but the round face of their Head of House was poking between their shoulders, two slips of parchment in his hand. "Full day ahead... sorry about this, but it is O.W.L. year, after all. See you Monday!" And with that, he left them to peruse their schedules.

"Urgh!" Rose spat as if hers were a frog that had done its business in her hand. "Double History Of Magic this afternoon! And we have to start the day with that Peele woman! Merlin, I hope she's not too oppressive, I don't think I could stand it."

"Charms with Aunt Penelope after that, though," Albus said with a shrug as he speared an out-of-reach kipper on the end of his fork. "That'll be all right."

Rose laughed weakly. "It's going to take me a while to get used to this - 'I'm off to my aunt's class!' That's too weird."

"Bad luck," said a voice behind them; they turned to see Hugo had been looking over their shoulders. "I don't much envy your schedule, sister and cousin - but at least you're not starting Ancient Runes and Arithmancy today, I'm so nervous!"

"Thanks, worm," Rose sighed miserably. "That's loads of help."

"Take heart that term started on a Thursday this year," Albus was saying as they trudged from the Great Hall and up the marble steps. "We've only today and tomorrow before the weekend."

"But did you see tomorrow? Double Potions with the sodding Slytherins is not the best part of waking up."

"Agreed." Peeves was floating along a short distance ahead, cackling and rolling marbles across the floor in the hopes of causing unsuspecting students to trip. They stopped short, waiting for this prank to pass. "Oh well."

"And you're trying to put me off-track," she said shrewdly, eyes narrowing. "I wasn't done with you and those so-called Gryffindors."

A vein began throbbing over his eye, he could feel it. "Oh, leave it, can't you?"

"No!" She quickly ducked her head into the Muggle Studies classroom they were standing beside - evidently there were no classes that morning, as he found himself being chivvied inside.

"Hey!"

"When are you going to stop letting them push you around and stand up for yourself? Twists my knickers to see them rag on you like this!"

"Rose-"

Her blue eyes might have been hit with an Incendio, they were sparking so madly. "Am I gonna have to threaten to mess them up again? Last time they apparently weren't listening, as they're still acting like barmy sons of-"

"Get out of it, Rose! They already think I'm a cream puff as it is without my girl cousin fighting all my battles for me!" Even as he finished the sentence, he could see the mingled hurt and exasperation blooming in her features, so he hurried along toward his point. "Sure, I know you'd mop the floor with them, and that I probably could, too, but... I don't see the point in making a scene. It's more likely to egg them on than put them off, and that's all I need."

"But..." She pulled madly at her hair for a moment, clearly at a loss for how to get him to see reason. "Al, you're a prefect, now! They have to listen to you if they don't want detention!"

Albus rolled his eyes. "Prefects can't give detentions, you prat."

"Dock House points, then! And don't call me a prat, you prat," she added as an afterthought.

"Fine, fine. Can we go? Only I'd prefer not to be late for the first class of the term."

A struggle played itself out in her eyes before she let out a gust and hissed, "You are impossible."

It is perhaps lucky Albus spoke up when he did, as the bell began ringing at the moment the Defence Against The Dark Arts classroom door came into view. Breaking into a run (and careful to avoid any lingering marbles), the chimes were still fading when they burst in on the rest of the class, who were seated expectantly and started at the door slamming into the wall.

"Why, hello - decided to join us, have you?" Professor Peele asked mildly, peering at them over a pair of reading glasses she was wearing; a few students laughed. "I'm afraid I'll have to take House points if you're any later than this, so I ask that in the future you try not to cut it so close. Please, sit."

Relieved at their good fortune, they took places behind Wayne and Elizabeth Larkins, digging in their schoolbags for their crisp new books. These were scarcely on their desks when the teacher briskly called roll, then asked for their attention.

"Before we begin," she said, removing her glasses and allowing them to rest on her bosom, suspended by a string of pearls, "it bears mentioning that this will be your most difficult year at Hogwarts yet, and with sound reason. This coming June, you shall all be sitting for your Ordinary Wizarding Level examinations, and it is through these rigorous tests we shall determine just how much you've taken in on the subject of defensive magic. If, come Summer, you find you've achieved at least an 'Exceeds Expectations' in your O.W.L., you may continue on to my N.E.W.T. classes if you so choose. However, even if your chosen career does not require a N.E.W.T. in Defence, I advise you to at least study hard enough to achieve an 'Acceptable'; after all, I'm sure you'd rather not think the past four years of spellwork and essays wasted."

A few students whom had perhaps not been expecting this news whispered frantically to their neighbours. Professor Peele allowed this to continue for a few moments before she tapped the blackboard loudly with her wand, and words began tracing their way across it as the class fell silent.

"My name, as one would hope you haven't forgotten since yesterday, is Peele - yes, as in 'banana' or 'potato'." More of them laughed at that, Albus and Rose included. "And this, of course, is Defence Against The Dark Arts. We shall spend the first week going over what you have studied with Professor Wojcik last year, following which I do believe we shall start work on the Shield Charm."

As the rest of the class was muttering excitedly, Albus already found himself staring absentmindedly out the window; his and Rose's parents had already taught them that bit of magic very early on, as they were keen for their children to be able to protect themselves from simple hexes and such. Still, he did not object to a refresher course on the spell - one could never be too careful.

The class period passed quickly with them practising the Disarming Charm on each other, followed by a brief quizzing on Dark creatures (a quick answer from Albus on the subject of Red Caps earned Gryffindor five points). Soon, yearning for a quick breath of fresh air, they were standing about idly on the sun-soaked lawns near the doors, watching the branches of the trees in the Forbidden Forest bend slightly in the gentle winds.

"But that last Disarming you pulled on Rankin was brilliant," Albus was commending her. "She even lost her balance!"

"Thank you, thank you." A few mock bows to highlight this. "Really, going over this old rubbish sounded tiresome when she told us we'd be doing that, but you know, I think I have got a better feel for Expelliarmus, now. How about you, Al?"

He did not answer - something had caught his eye.

"Er... Al? Did you notice any vast improvement?"

"Sorry, what?"

"'What' is right - as in, what the devil are you gawking at?"

"D'you see that black thing, way over on the other side of the lake?"

She squinted. "Sure... looks like a big slab of rock if you ask me. Why?"

"What's that on top of it?"

For in the shade of trees on the opposite shore of the water in which the giant squid made its home, something - or someone - was making a slight flutter. He'd seen the large mass of black many times before, though he'd never been reckless or curious enough to cross the lake or pick through that edge of the Forest to investigate further, and he and Rose hadn't time before next period. Still squinting at the unexplained disturbance, they turned and headed inside.

Astronomy, the second class of the day, consisted largely of writing down names of moons they didn't care about and, again, being forewarned about the looming danger of their O.W.L.s. They were both grateful when it came time for lunch, but when they made to sit down at their House table, Olivia Wood came striding toward Rose, elbowing Albus discourteously out of the way.

"Good Summer, Weasley? Glad to hear it," she barked, not bothering to wait for a response. "I've spoken to Longbottom, and we've booked tryouts for a week from Sunday, eleven sharp. Now Barrister's left school we'll be needing a third Chaser, and it wouldn't hurt to try for a new Seeker, as well - I'm not sure I can stand watching that Creevey boy drift all over the pitch like dandelion fluff much longer."

"I'll be there!" Rose seemed to want to say this as quickly as possible so as to avoid an outright attack from the zealous Captain.

"Good." Spotting Albus out of the corner of her blazing brown eyes, she turned and fired at him, "You should try out again, Potter; if not for that thestral mishap, you'd have stood a good chance."

"Er, thanks."

As she stalked off to find some other member of the team to accost, Rose raised an eyebrow at him. Before she could start, he grumbled, "Yeah, I know, I ought to bite the bullet and make a fool of myself all over again. Whatever."

"Didn't say a word, Al."

"But you thought it."

She shrugged, plopping onto the bench and starting in on steak-and-kidney pie. "None of my business."

"Don't give me that passive-aggressive crap!"

History Of Magic was no more thrilling than it had been the past four years; Professor Binns, the only ghost who taught a class at Hogwarts, could drone on for hours about names and dates and places, speaking in a manner specifically honed to drain every last drop of interest from the subject and leave the class little better off than a room full of Confunded trolls. Reportedly, the only one whom could resist the coma-inducing lull of his speech was Gwydion Lahey, a Ravenclaw sixth-year widely known as the brightest in the castle. Unfortunately, this knowledge did not avail them in the slightest, and they'd been struggling to maintain average marks in his class from the word go.

At last, they found a respite in Charms, where though Aunt Penelope did not treat them with any manner of favouritism, she was a fair, upbeat and patient teacher. Once more, they were reminded of how O.W.L.s would be the end of them, followed by a review of Cheering Charms; Albus was pleased to see Logan fail dismally to achieve desired results, overreaching and causing poor Elizabeth Larkins to shriek with insuppressible giggles before Aunt Penelope sorted her.

"Well, like Hugo said, at least we're not trying to decipher old, outdated symbols," Albus said happily on their way to supper.

"He's got a good head on his shoulders, my brother." Rose had at least recovered from the charm enough to stop doing cartwheels all the way down the corridor. "I like the little cur."

"I don't know what you two are so happy about!" Elizabeth shouted shrilly at them as she rushed past, her normally-ercu face such a crimson that at first they did not recognise her. "Honestly!"

Being that they'd been sentenced enough homework their first day to gag one of the Hog's Head's proprietor's goats, the two of them were to be seen bent over a table in the common room late into the night, quills scratching away, Rose biting the ends of her hair as she always did when deep in thought. This was lucky in one way, as by the time they'd had enough and repacked their bags, all of the other fifth-years were already asleep, and Albus was able to creep into his dormitory and crawl into bed, avoiding all harassment - though he had to cover his head again to blot out Wayne's mad mutterings.

o o o

Neither of them felt particularly hungry at breakfast on Friday; the prospect of facing both the Slytherins and an unknown teacher on less sleep than they'd have chosen didn't so much inspire hunger as nausea. Finally, when they could stall no longer and still expect to be on time, they shuffled through the entrance hall and descended the steps toward the dungeons where they found a queue outside the door.

"Ready for your favourite subject, Potter?" said Scorpius Malfoy as they reached the back of the queue. "Hope you don't choke like you did last year; almost every class period, too. I seem to recall an incident involving a pig's bladder, a shrivelfig, and Catherine Orchard's favourite-"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Rose spat. "Nobody cares that someone's trained a troll like you to speak like a wizard."

Just as his pale cheeks flushed and his hands curled into fists, they heard footsteps echoing through the hallway; they all turned to see Professor Dryden swooping down upon them, cloak billowing like a living thing and sharp eyes moving among the students. With a flick of his wand, the door crashed open, and he said, "Inside."

They all hastened to obey. Albus noticed even Malfoy and his Slytherin posse seemed to be wary of their new Head of House, not having had time to get used to him yet. They all chose spots around the blackening old tables on which their cauldrons already sat, taking out their books and looking up at their teacher with much trepidation. The other two spots at his and Rose's table had been taken by Wayne and Catherine, both of whom were white as sheets; Catherine had taken the one farthest away from Albus.

"Potions," the Professor began; Albus noted his voice was simultaneously oily and raspy. "The most difficult and arcane of all branches of magic. Unlike incantations, hexes, jinxes, and curses, a potion can be brewed to do exactly what you wish - for whether or not you've made it before does not at all mean it can't be done... if you possess the knowledge and aptitude. Take, for example... the Wolfsbane Potion."

Almost every member of the class started when he rapped the blackboard with his wand, and as his name disappeared, a long, complicated list of ingredients and directions spread across it, stretching right into the corners. He began pacing along between his desk and the board as he resumed speaking.

"Until some thirty years ago, nothing could be done to aid the plight of our poor, fur-bearen witches and wizards. That is, until a startling revelation came upon me."

Albus felt his brow knit. Came upon... him?

"Wolfsbane, also known as monkshood or aconite, had long been beneficial in fending off these creatures of the night. Therefore, I said, why not create a solution that wards off the effects of their transformation from the inside?" His lip curled into a self-satisfied sneer. "Once this thought occurred to me, it was but a matter of endless toil, trial-and-error, and finding willing subjects upon which to test my theory. Eventually-"

"But this is rubbish," Albus heard Macmillan whisper impatiently.

Unfortunately for him (and fortunately for Albus, whom was tickled to see the scene that followed), Professor Dryden's hearing was keen enough to pick up on those words. Stopping dead mid-speech, he turned slowly and glared down at Ryan, his eyes boring holes through him as he spoke in a dangerously quiet tone.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Er... Ryan Macmillan. Sir." He seemed to be adding this last part to endear himself to the Potions Master, a gesture which seemed futile to the rest of the class - also, apparently, to the Potions Master himself.

"Macmillan. Macmillan," he began, saying his surname more loudly the second time, "seems to have information vastly more important than that of your professor. Please, pray tell, enlighten us."

"Well... it's only that, well, history shows us the Wolfsbane Potion was invented by a man named Damocles Belby, sir."

Noting the shivers passing through the other students, Albus was sure he wasn't the only one who felt the temperature instantly drop within the room. Ryan was staring up at their instructor like a deer caught in headlights. Indeed, Professor Dryden's wide nostrils were flared, his square jaw set, and his hand twitched as if to go for his wand. However, when he spoke his voice was oily and deadly as before, betraying no trace of rage.

"Five points from Gryffindor, Mr Macmillan. You will kindly refrain from contradicting your teacher in the future, or else suffer detentions."

Nobody spoke for several long, agonising moments; Albus saw a look of ill-suppressed glee spreading across Scorpius's pale features. He was almost on point of asking the professor a question - any question - to break the tension when he suddenly continued in full stride, as if nothing had deterred him. "The Draught Of Peace is a soothing potion that will often show up during your O.W.L. examinations. I see from Professor Nott's syllabus that you attempted to perform this near the end of your fourth year, but I see no reason not to recover previously-trod soil. Also, I'm not sure I trust the methods of a man who was all but chased from the castle by a lynch mob with flaming torches."

Now Malfoy looked scandalised, and Genevieve let out a muffled sob. Perhaps there was hope for this teacher after all.

Albus was very careful to follow every line of instructions to the letter, hoping against hope that even if he couldn't befriend their new Potions Master, he might at least avoid making an enemy this early on. He therefore sighed with relief when Dryden looked into his cauldron at the end of the lesson and said, "Hmm, adequate; try to count your stirs more precisely next time and you may achieve an 'E'." Alas, when he passed on to Wayne's cauldron he held his nose and said, "What in Salazar Slytherin's name are you concocting, young man?"

Wayne's overlarge ears pinkened. "Er... the Draught of Peace?"

"I'm afraid not," he coughed, fanning the copious black smoke issuing from Wayne's cauldron. "Perhaps 'Draught of Disaster' would be an apt name for this abomination. Incidentally," he added to the class at large as the Slytherins giggled, "we shall be practising the Draught of Disaster in a few weeks, so you may want to take notes."

"That wasn't so bad," said Albus as they ate a leisurely lunch in the Great Hall. "Loads better than Nott had ever done, anyway - I might have actually learned something."

"Loads better, is he?" Rose snapped. "He told me my potion was more likely to cause paranoia than calm the nerves! Plus, he set us a ten-inch essay on the uses of wolfsbane!"

"Well, we know who to thank for that," he said pointedly in the direction of where Macmillan and Logan were sitting with sullen looks on their faces. At his words, they both looked around, glared back, and went back to poking at their peas.

Care Of Magical Creatures, their last class of the day before the meager-yet-blessed free period in their schoolweek, was a mixture of one part fun to two parts mortal peril. While all lessons were ably instructed by Hagrid, whom had a single-minded obsession with all magical creatures great and small, he had a nasty habit of failing to recognise any dangers these beasts might present to frail young students. It was common knowledge that Hagrid was half-giant, and most people attributed his persistent oversights to this; giants were a very violent people by nature, and while Hagrid would never harm a fly, he simply never had to fear for his own safety.

"Crups today, you lot!" he boomed as a few straggling Slytherins came to the back of the crowd. "You'll want ter know all abou' Crups, they're bound ter come up fer O.W.L.s. Got a load of 'em ou' back, let's go an' have a look."

As they rounded the side of Hagrid's hut, a small fenced-in area came into view, and inside this were what looked like about a dozen Jack Russell terriers, trotting back and forth and sniffing at everything. For a moment, Albus wondered why they were bothering with such mundane things when he noticed the tails.

"Righ', now - who can tell us how ter suss a Crup from an ordinary dog?"

Caspian's hand went up, and Hagrid pointed at him. "They have forked tails."

"Good, good, five points ter Gryffindor," Hagrid beamed, walking up to the gate and bending down to pet one of the animals, which backed away warily at the sight of his enormous hand. "Now, any witch or wizard lookin' ter keep a Crup should remove the tail with a Severing Charm when it's a pup, so's Muggles don' notice they're differen', but we got ourselves a pack o' un-Severed ones here since we're more abou' studyin' them than some old non-magical mutt. Now - who can tell me what else is magical abou' 'em?"

"They hate Muggles," Scorpius said at once. "Try to bite any they see."

"Exactly; take five points fer Slytherin. Yep, Crups came abou' when a bunch o' wizards got tergether and decided ter make a beastie that'd help 'em keep Muggles off their property, so they obviously don' get on too well with 'em. There's another magical creature, less violen' one, that can do the same job, but we'll get ter those further along in the term. Righ', then - let's split yeh up, two ter a Crup, then, an' yeh can draw and label their parts."

Most students instantly began trying to get the best Crup first; Atticus Malkin ended up with a black eye after a tussle with Macmillan and Logan, and Wayne got mud all down his front when Timothy Goyle shoved him to the ground. Albus thought this to be ridiculous, as they all looked the same to him. When Hagrid threatened to start docking house points, the class decided to choose their beasts more calmly.

When they were out of earshot with their Crup, Rose hissed, "If these stupid dogs mangle Muggles, why are we flying them in to the school? Shouldn't they be banned?"

"Maybe," Albus replied as he unpacked his copy of Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them, a roll of parchment, quill and ink bottle. "But where are they going to find Muggles to attack at Hogwarts?"

"Al, they- they'd try and chew up the Grangers, wouldn't they?"

He sighed, frowning. She was right; her mother's Muggle parents, his Great-Aunt and -Uncle, would both be in danger if a Crup were nearby, and that made him suddenly lose interest in drawing the innocent-looking beast Rose was struggling with on a leash. In fact, he felt a sick urge to whip out his wand and destroy it before it could harm anyone.

"Why do mental things like this have to be?" Rose was muttering, and he wholeheartedly agreed.

END Chapter Six