Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER NINE: Damazein And The Angry One

Albus was disappointed to find his cousin did not think much of his theories when he suggested them later that evening, his hair not yet dry. Rose didn't dismiss them out of hand, but seemed to think each as unlikely as the next.

"But this might not have been an attack at all," she insisted, removing her right sock and sticking it on her hand; if Albus had not seen her do this innumerable times he would have thought it strange. "Hogwarts is like, a thousand years old or something, isn't it? Stuff is bound to fall apart now and again."

"Not as much of Hogwarts is as old as it used to be. It hasn't even been thirty years since half of it was blown sky high by Death Eaters and giants and-"

"Besides," she cut across him, "even a brand new chandelier isn't guaranteed not to fall; things break, Al. Aha!"

Her hand withdrew, a tiny wad of fluff between thumb and forefinger. "Blimey, I hate new socks. You always get these bits of lint that stick between your toes, and no matter how you wiggle them or stamp around, they won't come loose, so you..." She caught the look on his face and rolled her eyes, shoving the sock back onto her foot. "All right, if it'll make you feel better, maybe we should tell Longbottom - he can probably do a better job of checking out a lead than the two of us. Meanwhile, we've got some moons to look at, so I'm gonna go find my telescope."

As he watched her ascend the steps to the girls' dormitories, he privately thought Professor Longbottom would not be particularly thrilled to have the delinquents of Gryffindor Tower burst into his office, claiming to know why Logan's leg was nearly severed. Mentally vetoing this course of action, he decided he might as well go and get his Astronomy equipment, also.

Discouraged but unconvinced, he did not mention his suspicions to her again all through Thursday - though he watched Professor Peele warily that morning in Defence. Rose seemed to be taking full advantage of this as means to keep him distracted by sticking mainly to two subjects: Quidditch and homework. After a while, she became somewhat dull conversation.

Speaking of Quidditch, practise that night went well, save for the announcement that came at the end.

"Everyone, hark this," Olivia was barking as they changed out of their team robes in the locker room. "I've been drawing up a new training strategy, and I don't think three nights a week are going to cut it."

"Aw, come off it, Wood," said James as the others groaned. "Slytherin's so pathetic we're bound to trounce them - why cause ourselves unnecessary suffering?"

"Because it's unnecessary suffering that wins the Cup!" she barked. "I want us to start practising Sunday night as well; I think four nights a week should help do the trick. I'll see you all Saturday, then, and don't be late!"

As his teammates made to leave, he motioned to Rose that they should move forward. After a few moments, Olivia poked her mocha-hued face back out from behind the locker door and said, "Potter, Weasley - something wrong?"

"We won't be able to make the practise on Sunday night," Albus muttered. "Ryan, either."

"Why not?" she demanded. "You got something better to do?"

"No," said Rose. "Detentions. Y'know, from the thing with Macmillan."

Her eyes rolled. "Oh yeah... heard about that. Well, that's all right, just show up if you've got time after your detentions are over."

"'Just show up after your detentions'," Rose mimicked nastily as they headed across the pitch-black lawns and into the castle. "What if we end up scrubbing all the toilets in the castle or something? She'd want us to spend a few hours dodging and passing on top of that, would she?"

"Hey, you know Olivia; any time at all is better spent on training than pointless leisure activities, like eating or breathing."

"Not wrong, there. Speaking of food, think there's any chance of scaring up some grub in the Great Hall before we collapse from exhaustion?"

He shook his head. "Y'know, I think I have some old Fizzing Whizbees at the bottom of my trunk..."

Double Potions with the Slytherins was as uncomfortable as usual, with the added weirdness of Albus following Professor Dryden's every move. Other than being somewhat condescending and gruff, he did nothing to suggest he'd tried to off anyone lately - in fact, the only thing of interest that happened was when he praised Caspian Lewis for his superb Invigoration Draught, which shocked the Slytherins - particularly Timothy Goyle, whom dropped one of his ingredients onto his elbow and had to be taken to the hospital wing amid gales of laughter from the Gryffindors when his forearm reached roughly the size and shape of a Christmas ham - excepting the lavender polka-dots, of course.

As they ploughed their way through yet another mountain of assignments on Saturday, Albus finally cleared his throat and began to revisit the subject of the attacks. He'd scarcely broached the subject when Rose tutted exasperatedly.

"Please, will you leave it, already? Nobody's died! The thing just fell! Maybe I'll drop one on you if you don't shut up about it!"

They studied in silence after that.

It seemed like Sunday and its grim anticipation would stretch on forever, though he found himself equally startled when Mr Urran and Ryan Macmillan found them in the library; it amused Albus to see his left eye was still tinged with green. Beckoning with his free hand, Urran said, "Follow me, now - time for your punishments."

There was nobody quite like the Hogwarts caretaker. His robes were always smeared and stained, and his bald, spotted pate gleamed in the light from the lantern he was holding. Most Muggle-borns within the school had at one time or another expressed the opinion that he may be something called a "row-bot", which was a term he supposed they used to explain why he never betrayed emotion of any sort. Indeed, those first words were all he said to them until they reached Hagrid's hut, and when Hagrid came out to greet them he merely said, "I'll come and get you in a few hours," before turning on heel and heading back up the lawns.

"Righ' then, you three," said Hagrid, grabbing up a large crossbow that had been propped against the side of the hut and nodding at them. A rather large black-and-brown boarhound was gamboling around his legs; he must have recently bought or found this animal, as Albus couldn't remember him having it around before. "As yeh migh' know, we'll be headed inter the Fores'. Yep, a strange job fer yeh, hope yer not faint o' heart."

"What... what d'you mean, Professor?" Ryan asked warily.

"See, there's a... well, a kind o' beast in this fores', very unique," he began delicately. "Been there for almos' thirty years, and usually pretty good 'bout keepin' ter itself. But lately it's been in a righ' state, attackin' an' manglin' some o' the other creatures, and a centaur or two, as well. Had a chat with some chaps down at the Ministry, told me ter use some o' this ter help calm 'im."

What he held up looked like a cheap plastic jug of purplish water to Albus, but he supposed it must be more powerful than that if it were to have any effect.

"So..." Albus could almost feel Rose shaking from where she was standing two feet away, obviously reluctant to ask her question. "Hagrid, what exactly is it you want us to d-do?"

"Help me find 'im!" Hagrid whispered. "'Course, when yeh do, don' try an' approach 'im, or do anything but send up red sparks an' I'll come an' sort 'im ou' fer yeh. Come on, then!"

As they trudged around his patch of healthy (meaning "doghouse-sized") pumpkins and through the first sparse trees, Albus said, "Okay, Hagrid, well... what does this thing look like?"

"Yeh'll know it when yeh see it - big an' kinda blue. Brightes' eyes yeh ever seen."

Ryan grunted impatiently. "But what is it? A werewolf? A- a banshee?"

"Shh!" They all stopped, and there was another snapping noise in the distance. "Righ', then - Rose, yeh can take Tusky here an' head up thataway, he'll keep yeh safe." The corners of his beetle black eyes crinkled as he patted the hound, who panted happily. "Remember ter stay on the path. Albus an' Ryan, why don' yeh try off South there, there's good lads. I'll move righ' into the heart o' the fores'. If we don' see anythin' fer an hour or two, we'll call it a nigh'."

It seemed Ryan couldn't help himself. "Come on, you can't do this, Professor, they'd sack you - you can't send three underage wizards into a shadowy forest without knowing what we're-"

"Shh!" he hissed again. "Don' wan' ter scare 'im off, do we?"

None of them answered him, but trudged resignedly in their assigned directions. Albus and Rose exchanged a fleeting, frightened look before the trees had swallowed them up.

"Oh yes, this is the ticket," Ryan grumbled several minutes later as they picked their way through brambles and branches. "It's how I envisioned my Sunday night; putting myself in danger alongside Prefect Potter. Hope you don't dock points from Gryffindor if I get devoured by the whatever-it-is we're hunting."

"Nah, I'd just open a packet of crisps and enjoy the show," said Albus distractedly, peering around through the trees. It was not yet dusk, but the trees overhead cut off so much of the light that it might as well have been midnight already; not much caring if he "scared him off", he pulled out his wand and whispered, "Lumos!", and the tip flared with a thin beam of white light.

"Good idea," said Ryan - then, almost as if horrified that he'd paid him an undue compliment, he followed up with, "Guess you had to have one someday."

"Why don't you back off for a bit, hmm, Ryan? In case you haven't noticed, we're stumbling through the lion's den, in which the lions are the friendliest of the many, many inhabitants."

"I thrive on the verbal Swivenhodge," he replied, his own wand lit now. "Keeps me on my toes - though some days your head's just not in the game. Also, some days your girlfriend-slash-cousin tries to rearrange my handsome features, which isn't quite as intellectually stimulating."

"So that's all this is to you?" Albus growled, rounding on him. "A game? You don't even care that I'm hoping the bluish mystery beast sucks you up one of its nostrils?"

"Not really," he said, though his brow knitted. "Merlin, you'd think nobody ever gave you a hard time before."

"I have an older sibling who's bigger than me - my life consists entirely of one long insult interrupted by brief periods of other torment."

Ryan laughed. "James does so love to stick it to you; I learned from the best."

"Good on you, then. I'm glad you've got role models like my stupid brother."

"Hey, hang on a minute, there-"

But before Ryan could finish his thought, they heard a noise from up ahead. A shadow was moving between the trees, though as Albus raised his wand for a better look, it disappeared.

"Maybe that's it," Ryan whispered.

"How can we know? We only saw it move, it might have been a bird."

"It might have been a manticore - I'd rather not meet it either way. Can't we just send up the sparks now?"

"No," said Albus firmly, trudging forward. "There's no point in interrupting Hagrid and Rose's searches if we didn't see anything - what if they're only feet from finding this thing and we call them away?"

"Come on, Albie, can you honestly tell me you really want to find it?"

A sigh escaped his lips. "Of course not... but that's what our detention is, and I don't fancy skiving off it and getting kicked out of school."

Macmillan wrestled with this for a moment before shrugging and falling into step quietly. It seemed to him that ten or fifteen minutes had passed in silence before something happened - and "something" here does not mean something good.

"Identify yourself, humans!"

Both boys whirled to face the voice and nearly soiled themselves - a centaur with flowing auburn hair was bearing down on them, strong human arms pulling back her bowstring and drawing a bead on Ryan, hooves pawing at the path. Had she not been a wild-looking half-horse with a sharp object aimed at them, Albus might have thought her quite beautiful.

"Lower your wand!" she barked; Albus had already raised his hands over his head, but Ryan's shaking hand slowly began lowering at her insistence. "Many of my herd are near, and will answer my cry should you attack!"

"M-my name's Albus," he began nervously, hoping this would give Ryan and he time to collect their thoughts should they need to flee. "Albus Potter, and this is Ryan Macmillan. W-we're in here with Hagrid, looking for the, er, the thing."

Her bright, narrowed eyes flickered between the both of them. "I do not understand - what is The Thing?"

"Well, we don't really know what it is," he said, feeling vaguely embarrassed even as he continued to be terrified of being pierced by her arrow. "Big, blue creature? It has these eyes-"

"Ahh," she sighed, lowering the tip of the shaft the barest inch. "You seek the Angry One."

"Th-the Angry One?" Ryan stuttered.

"Hagrid has spoken of it to my people before." Having decided they presented no immediate threat, her tones were now as smooth and flowing as their teacher, Firenze's. "It is a being alien to this wood, and I have heard the others speak of it being of wizard design. We do not approach it, but it has now injured our leader, Magorian, and your Hagrid has agreed to help in pacifying or slaying it."

"He did say he had s-something to calm it down," Ryan chipped in.

"Have you seen it around here?"

"I'm afraid not," she said, picking a thistle from her chestnut body, though her other hand held the arrow and bow in firing position. "I must return to my herd. Your quest is honourable, and I wish you success."

"Wait!" Ryan blurted; if Albus had thought quickly enough, he'd have trod on his foot to shut him up. "You've got a bow, can't you help us kill it?"

Her demeanor changed instantly; the arrow was now pointing at his throat as she cantered toward him, teeth bared. "You dare ask to use me, like a common steed, to do your bidding?"

Now he looked horrified, whimpering, "What? No, I- no, of c-course not, we just-"

"We do not help humans! It is not our responsibility to look after you, to serve you! Our noble and ancient race have concerns far above yours, as has been our way since before the dawn of man! We draw upon the knowledge of the stars, the wisdom of millenia, and you would have us pull your carts, plough your fields?"

They'd offended her, that much was clear. Scraping together what little etiquette he knew, Albus bowed shakily and said, "Please, we beg your deepest pardons, Miss... Miss?"

"I am Damazein, and I am not sure I can pardon such a degradation!"

"Damazein, your people are... are very magnificent," he said, trying anything that sounded good. "We can also tell how... wise you are, because you knew what we were hunting before we did. We only asked because you're so much mightier than two feeble wizards, and we knew you wanted to get rid of the beast, too! We thought perhaps you could use us, not the other way around, and- and we apologise."

Ryan was holding his breath; he had also abased himself, following Albus's lead. A furtive glance upward showed him that while she may have been debating kicking them to death, she also seemed a bit mollified at his shameless flattery. Blinking a few times, she adjusted the leather sack hanging around her shoulders, which he now noticed was not filled with more weapons, but fruits and nuts. "We do not help humans," she repeated at last. "But I shall forget the foolish words of your companion. You may be nearing manhood, but you appear to still be foals, and foals will sometimes... speak out of turn." A secret smile played in the corner of her eye, as if remembering an instance of this within her own tribe. "Farewell, Albus Potter."

"Thank you, Damazein," he said. "And I really am sorry."

She nodded courteously, then turned and galloped off the path, vanishing within seconds between the trees.

"Holy hippogriffs, I thought we were done for," Macmillan breathed, leaning against a gnarled oak.

"You're welcome, you git!" Albus spat, kicking him in the shin. "What'd you have to go and try ordering her around for?!"

"Ow!" Hobbling around on one foot, he hissed, "I'm sorry, okay?! How was I supposed to know she'd take it so personally?"

"Let's just keep going," he said dully, pointing his still-lit wand in the direction they had been heading.

"I'm not terribly used to wandering around a forest full of centaurs and Angry Ones and- and-"

They were both frozen to the spot and staring at a ghostly-white figure, a pair of sunken eyes wide as saucers staring through a curtain of scraggly hair. The mouth stretched wide and let out a piercing wail as two thin hands raised, palms facing them. The boys screamed in unison.

"BANSHEE!"

They did not stop running for several minutes, even though the hasty looks they cast over their backs showed the creature had not followed them. Clutching a stitch in his side, Albus finally decided they were safe and collapsed against a tree.

"What are you doing?" Ryan demanded. "We have to get out of here, that wretched thing is coming for us!"

"Malarkey," Albus spat, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "You don't see it anywhere, do you?"

"Maybe it's invisible! Can banshees turn invisible?"

"For pity's sake, I don't-"

And then they saw the red sparks glittering above the trees a good ways North of them; sparing Macmillan a brief, worried glance, he took off again, all pain and fatigue forgotten in the face of Rose or Hagrid being in trouble. Trunk after trunk flashed past as he sprinted down the path, glancing up once in a while for the sparkling flare that had marked the location of the - attack? Successful capture? Then, all at once, he broke through into a clearing where the most frighteningly whimsical sight greeted his eyes.

Hagrid had his pink umbrella in one hand, pointed in front of him like a sword, and his crossbow in the other. Rose was a short way away, her wand hand trembling, the other clutching Tusky's leash. The dog, for its part, was growling and barking, straining to bite the monstrosity they were facing.

"Don' try an' attack, boys," said Hagrid softly, noticing they had arrived. "A Stunner or an Impediment Jinx'd jus' bounce off its fenders!"

"Fenders?" asked Ryan, not having had a clear view of their prey. "What-"

And then he saw it, too - a heavily-scratched, turquoise automobile, headlights ablaze in the near-darkness, horn blaring at them warningly. Both side-mirrors had snapped off, there were rust spots here and there, the windscreen wipers were waving to and fro threateningly, and greyish smoke was pouring from under the bonnet.

Albus gulped. "Er, Hagrid? H-how are we-"

Before he could get any further than that, the car attacked, and Hagrid dropped his weapons and moved deftly in front of its target, which appeared to have been Tusky. Raising both arms wide, he caught it, and lay on the ground with the car atop him, grunting and struggling.

"Help me out, here, will yeh?!"

"How?!" Ryan shouted. "What are we supposed to do?!"

"Grab the can, over there!"

Albus looked to where Hagrid had left the crossbow and umbrella and saw the jug of violet fluid nearby. Wasting no time while the gamekeeper had a few tonnes of metal trying to squish him, he caught it up and brought it as near to the struggle as he dared.

"What now?" Rose shouted, keeping a tight hold on Tusky's leash as she also drew closer, face pale and set.

"Somebody open the bonnet, quick now! Use an Unlocking Charm!"

Surprisingly, it was Ryan who first raised his wand and shouted, "Alohomora!" The bonnet sprang open, a fresh cloud of steam and smoke billowing up and into the night sky. Apparently the car didn't like this, and let out a fresh spate of honks as its tires spun without purchase in the air.

"There's a cap marked 'radiator fluid' - pour the ruddy potion in tha'!"

Albus glanced at the other two, said "Cover me," and moved forward. After a moment, he found the cap Hagrid had been referring to, but when he reached to unscrew it, the mad machine gave a violent lurch.

"Try again, don' give up tha' easy, Albus!" Hagrid bellowed, renewing his grip on the undercarriage.

"But it's so hot, and I can't get a good grip!" Gritting his teeth, he grabbed for it and caught it, hanging on for dear life as he slowly worked it free. Finally, spilling nearly a third of it, he poured the concoction inside; within a minute the car's lurchings and horn blasts calmed, and eventually the engine was purring warmly, docile as some overlarge metal kitten.

"Whew!" Hagrid gusted, setting the car back on the ground; it sat there idling innocently as he pushed himself to his feet. "Do believe tha' did the trick, eh? Arthur told me he put a wee bit o' some Draught O' Peace in with the fluid, guess tha's why it worked so fast."

Rose cleared her throat. "Wh-what- why is- what's it-"

"It's an old Ford Anglia, Rose," he grunted, shutting the bonnet with one of his large hands. "Been here ever since yer dad flew it ter school in his second year, don' yeh know - I'm surprised he never told yeh the story!"

"No!" she breathed, eyebrows shooting up under her fringe. "That really happened?! Blimey, I never thought that story could possibly be- I mean, it's barking, how could he have done-"

"Yer parents did a lot o' funny things back in their Hogwarts days," Hagrid laughed, watching the wild car trundle away into the darkness, headed for the deepest parts of the forest. "Anyway, let's get back ter the cabin; dunno 'bout you lot, but I fancy a cuppa after tha'..."

As they made their way back through the slowly-thinning trees, Macmillan suddenly said, "Oh, now I get it..."

Rose started, seemingly having forgotten he was there. "Get what?"

"'The Angry One'." He let out a weak chuckle. "Anglia. Damazein must've misheard."

"Damazein?" Hagrid asked him sharply. "Yeh didn' run inter centaurs in there?!"

Albus had a feeling their tea might not be a short one...

END Chapter Nine