Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Bitter Honey

Whether or not it was because Elizabeth Larkins's best friend, Catherine Orchard, had betrayed her trust, or because someone overheard them and started blabbing it to anyone with ears, Albus didn't know, but one way or the other it took no time at all for the news of Elizabeth's breakdown to spread throughout the castle, and for the other students to begin giving the girls' lavatory on the second floor a wide birth. Both Albus and Rose knew they hadn't been the ones to begin spreading rumours, so it must have been another student in their dormitory, which left only one person...

"Well, it wasn't me," Aqua Rankin protested when they asked her during Herbology class that afternoon. She and David Jones, a Hufflepuff prefect who also happened to play keeper for his House, had been assigned to the same station where they were Regerminating the Fanged Geraniums, for which using dragonhide gloves was a must. "I mean, sure, I heard about it, but... maybe it was Catherine, you know? Elizabeth tells her everything."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Come on, I wouldn't think Catherine'd blab. It must've been you."

"I'm offended!" Her icy-blue eyes were still glinting, her mouth twitching to reveal her alarmingly-pronounced canine teeth. Those, in addition to her wild, shock-white hair radiating from her head like a corona had always made Albus slightly jumpy around her, as if she might start devouring people at any moment. "Why should you think I'd do anything of the sort?"

"How about the rumour you spread last year about my being kin to a Dementor?"

"That was just-"

But Albus interrupted her. "Or that time you said the reason I had green eyes was because I'd eaten a load of Gurdyroots as a baby?"

Aqua half-sighed, half-laughed. "You can't still be-"

"Or," David spoke up unexpectedly, "that real jackanory you told in our third year about all the Peruvian Doxies, Professor Nott's manky handkerchief and a hidden vat of Felix Felicis under the-"

"All right, all right, give over, will you?! Sweet Matilda's Moontrimmer, you'd think I'm, I'm... some sort of old fabulist or something! I've got a right to report the news, don't- OW!"

Evidently, the geranium she'd been standing over had decided her shouting was too loud and sank its tired teeth into her arm. She was less prone to shout at them from the hospital wing.

The thorough interrogation of Moaning Myrtle by the staff proved entirely fruitless due to the fact that she had either contracted amnesia (and as her head was not solid they couldn't say she bumped it), or simply did not wish to tell anyone what she'd said to Elizabeth. Given what Nearly Headless Nick had been telling everyone since Hallowe'en, Albus was sure she honestly did not remember having done anything of the sort. Incidentally, the second floor corridor came to be flooded soon after Myrtle was accused of the crime, as she'd pulled off every tap in her out-of-order toilet in protest.

At long last, they had come to the last schoolday of term before Christmas vacation, which nearly drove all thought of ectoplasmic oddities from Albus's head - excepting that Elizabeth continued to look pale when he passed her in the corridors. The students and ghosts became prone to bursting into Christmas carols without warning, and when the portraits and suits of armour did this many first years had been seen toppling over in fright. Yet stranger was the way Professor Dryden had been unusually kind to them that morning in Potions, and Albus himself was very stunned to be held after class.

"Y-you wanted to see me, sir?"

"Mm, yes, Potter." The Potions Master laid aside the quill he had been using to scribe a letter and folded his hands on the desk, dark-blue eyes piercing him. A quick glance at the heading seemed to indicate it was to a Potions committee of some sort. "I wanted to speak with you about your marks in this class."

Albus gulped.

"They've been rather exceptional for a student of your House," he went on, paging now through his gradebook. "Not necessarily genius level, but surprising nonetheless."

"Wh... what?"

"Have you ever considered work in the field?" Suddenly he found an emerald green pamphlet hovering under his nose bearing the words, "The Subtle And Exact Science Of Potions In Today's Wizarding World". "Healers, Aurors... firewhiskey distillers, the list goes on. You may not invent the next Wolfsbane Potion -" here he smiled smugly, though he did not elaborate "-but wizards and witches like Mrs Scower had to start somewhere, didn't they?"

The shock of thinking he was going to be condemned only to be commended was not easily overcome. "You- you really think I'm that good, sir?"

"Certainly. Well, Mr Malkin or Mr Lewis may perhaps be more naturally adept, but you've grown by leaps and bounds over this single term." The professor chuckled, an action that seemed bizarre in the face of how gruff he was toward most students in his class. "That Befuddlement Draught you brewed last month, that was a model potion, to be sure. I recognise talent when I see it, and we true Potions Masters are always on the lookout for potential minds to swell our ranks."

"Sir... I can't help but wonder why you're being so... so-"

"Nice?" Dryden finished for him, frowning as if the word caused him discomfort. "Please, I'd rather not even be teaching this class, but I intend to do the job to the fullest of my... ample abilities. You really think I enjoy being harsh with my students?" When Albus only stared at him, he cleared his throat and said, "Fine, perhaps a bit, but I do it because I must. Don't you see? Keep order, or chaos will reign supreme. But I digress, and it's time for lunch. Go on, take the pamphlet, think about it."

When Albus had put it in his schoolbag, he picked up the quill and shooed him toward the door; Albus was almost there when the professor called out, "This doesn't mean you can neglect that essay on the Glumbumble - not if you want to make it into my N.E.W.T. class."

Rose literally laughed him out of the Great Hall when he told her of Dryden's praise.

"You're having me on," she giggled, quickening her stride to keep up with him even as he was trying to get away from her. "You, a Potions Master? You, who once poured murtlap essence all over the cat thinking it would give him wings?"

"Shut up, will you?" Albus could only pray the group of Slytherins not far behind didn't overhear. "I wish I'd never said anything! Besides, that was James's fault, he told me it would-"

"Excuses, excuses!"

Her teasing only snowballed as they tromped through the frozen grounds toward Hagrid's cabin, cloaks and woolen caps barely shielding them against the biting winds. He was inches from telling her to jump in the frozen lake when Hagrid came out bundled up in his moleskin overcoat and declared, "Salamanders terday, you lot!"

Most of the students grinned thankfully; salamanders dwelled only in fires, which meant Hagrid had likely saved this lesson for the coldest day of term on purpose. "Yep, abou' a dozen or so fires set up in back, so's yeh won' be crowded! Now, can anybody tell us wha's so special 'bout salamanders? Catherine!"

"Well... they can't survive without the fires they're borne from," said Catherine. "And even if the flame is still going, they can't leave it for longer than a few hours."

"Righ' - ten points ter Gryffindor! Okay, then, there's summat else, anybody know- Wayne?"

"That'd be their blood - it's got some kind of curative properties, I heard."

"Exactly - take another five fer the House." Wayne seemed rather pleased with himself.

When Albus made to take a bonfire with Ryan Macmillan and Puerilis Logan - both of whom did a double-take when they spotted him coming their way - Rose finally ceased winding him up and began exploring the subject in earnest.

"But you don't want to be an Auror, do you? And a Healer, honestly, we've both seen enough of hospital rooms without working there!"

"Yeah, I know, but... well, think if I just worked in the field of Potions. Could do okay if I brewed something to, say, make you impress the gaffer? Or even..." He lowered his voice so Hagrid wouldn't hear, as he was sure the notion would be viewed as sacriledge by the gamekeeper. "...what if I made up a draught that enables you to see thestrals without having watched somebody snuff it? I mean, there's all sorts of things we don't have solutions for yet, right?"

"Hmm..." Rose lapsed into thoughtful silence as she sprinkled pepper on a tiny blue-white lizard, watching it lap up the flecks with its tongue. It wasn't until the lesson was nearly over that she hissed, "But what if he knows?"

"Knows what?" He was too busy helping to throw snow on their fire to try and puzzle out her meaning, watching sadly as the salamanders faded away into nothing.

"That you've named him as a suspect during all your spook sleuthing. I mean, he was really spreading it on thick."

"Good to know I can't possibly have done well in Potions," he replied coolly.

"No, that's not what- look, you might be dead corking, mate, the next great potioneer of our times, but... that doesn't mean he didn't have an ulterior motive for buttering you up."

He nodded, lips pressed firmly together. "That's great, that's just lovely. You wouldn't even acknowledge my theories before, but now find them a convenient explanation for why a teacher might ever compliment me on my work. Thanks, Rose, this means a lot."

"Al, will you-" But he was already on his way up to the castle, walking much faster than she could hope to move without legging flat out.

o o o

By Saturday morning, the slight squabble over Albus's future career was forgotten - especially in light of several heartfelt apologies given by Rose. Thus, the mood was more or less chipper as they headed into Hogsmeade for the final weekend of the calendar year.

"So, what first? Do we need any more sweets?"

"Nah, I expect we'll be getting loads in our stockings," said Rose. "I would like to pop in Gladrags and see if I can get a new cloak cheap, there's a hole near the small of my back that lets the chilliest breezes in..."

The day meandered along, pleasant though cold as it had been the day previous. Albus bought a few trinkets from Dervish & Banges for his parents, thinking it would be his easiest opportunity for unobserved shopping. Rose was displeased with the prices of cloaks in Gladrags Wizardwear and resolved to ask her mum to either take her to a secondhand shop in Diagon Alley or simply patch it herself; besides her skills in interspecies relations and translating ancient runes into modern text, Aunt Hermione was an expert at knitting, and was quite famous (or infamous) for sending out hats and scarves as gifts.

When they'd exhausted most of the activities, they returned to the Three Broomsticks for a few warm pints of butterbeer and to see who else might show. They hadn't even drained their first draught when Tranquilius Thomas made for their table.

"All right, you two?"

"Better now," Albus said, raising his tankard. "Yourself?"

But he needn't have asked, for next moment a voluptuous strawberry-blonde girl seemed to spring up from nowhere and take the crook of his arm, cheek pressed into his shoulder as her coquettish eyes fluttered down at them. "Albus, Rose."

"You know Ouida Rousselot, don't you?" asked Tranky, almost able to hide how nervous he was around her.

"Oh, yeah," said Rose carelessly, trying not to act as if she were going to break out in gales. "So, have you two been having a nice time?"

"Hogsmeade certainly is beautiful this time of year," he commented, winking at Albus, who was now fighting back a chuckle as well. "Anyway, we'll be seeing you around, then. T'ra!"

The moment Tranky and Ouida had moved far enough away, the two instantly started laughing. "Holy hippogriffs, I thought I might dampen my knickers!"

"And since when does Tranky say 't'ra' like that?" Albus chuckled, wiping an eye. "You know, it's only a thought, but it might be that Ouida intimidates him."

"Only just! Cor blimey, I thought he'd- hmm."

Albus lowered the tankard he'd raised to his lips. "What's that, Rose?"

"Look," she hissed simply, nodding toward the bar. Wondering if he was about to witness a spectacular match of tongue-wrestling, he turned, and was sadly disappointed.

Professor Dryden was seated at the bar, nursing a flask that was emitting a kind of bluish steam. This would not have been strange had Professor Peele not been sinking into the seat beside him, motioning for the buxom old bar matron.

"They're talking, aren't they?" said Rose from the corner of her mouth. When he nodded, she shifted surreptitiously, reached into her bag and pulled out a wad of flesh-coloured string; sorting out two of them from the rest, she began feeding the ends in the general direction of the bar.

"Quick, take it," she whispered. When he stuck the end she handed him in his ear, she hissed, "No, you idiot - use the other ear, they can see that one!"

Frowning at her, he obeyed, hoping he looked as if he were merely leaning on his hand in a tired sort of way. Within seconds, the teachers' voices grew louder on his end of the Extendable Ear, and he concentrated hard on making out their words.

"...instances all over Europe, dating back to the Dark Ages." Peele. "Why, right here in England, the late Nineteenth Century-"

"Yes, yes, I know," Dryden hissed. "I paid attention in History Of Magic, thank you very much."

"But surely if you can recognise-"

"What's wrong with this thing?" Rose growled, drowning out Professor Peele's next words; she was wiggling her end of the string, eyebrows knitting together. "Damn, I told you I needed a new-"

"Shh!"

"-well and good," Dryden was saying. "But the chimaera is nothing but-"

"Is it?" she insisted. "The rest of the staff are either too young, or have been hidden away at Hogwarts so long they can't conceive of-"

"Shh!" It was Dryden who said it this time, not Albus. "Our position at this school is not so secure that we can go around insulting our superiors - a lone term under our belts!"

"Our inaction may spell our downfall, Austerus." Her tone was severe. "This will not resolve itself, and I daresay if they don't sort the ghosts out soon, they might not stop at exorcisms."

The two gazed evenly into each other's eyes, opposite shades of blue connecting in an invisible struggle of wills. Then, both conceding a draw, Peele moved to the other end of the bar with her tankard and Dryden returned to his flask.

"What a bust," Rose sighed, reeling in her Extendable Ear. "Didn't hear so much as a dicky bird. How about you?"

"Oh, I heard plenty." In a low voice he related all he was able to overhear.

"What does that mean? You don't think..." His cousin gulped noisily. "They're going to bump off Nearly Headless Nick!"

"It's as close as a ghost can come to being bumped off, I suppose," Albus agreed.

"That's not... they can't do this! Nick's a part of Hogwarts, all the ghosts are! We can't let them do it, Al, we'll have to-"

"Maybe they're just talking about it," he said bracingly. "You know... like, if they can't get the ghosts under control some other way, which I'm sure they will - I mean, the teachers are more or less the greatest witches and wizards in Britain, aren't they?"

"I suppose." Her tone could not have made it plainer that she wasn't convinced, and the several hairs hanging from her teeth echoed the same.

"And the 'chimaera'... what's that about?"

Rose shrugged as she picked up her tankard. "Oh, that; well, chimaeras are really rare monsters - I don't remember anything about them except their eggs are a Class A Non-Tradeable, so they must be dangerous." She took a sip of her butterbeer. "Urgh... it's gone cold."

They continued to discuss the strange scene all the way out of Hogsmeade, though the longer they talked about it, the less sense everything made.

"I don't particularly remember anything about a chimaera rampaging through England in the late Nineteenth Century," said Rose. "You'd think that bit would stick out in one's mind!"

"What I'd like to know is, what does a chimaera have to do with ghosts? Can they, I don't know, make them go wonky with its roar or something?"

"And why is their inaction going to do anything? I mean... if they are behind these attacks, wouldn't inaction save them?"

"Unless Peele meant they needed to act fast - finish the job before anyone caught on."

"What job?" Rose wailed hopelessly as they tromped past Mr Urran and onto the grounds. "What the bloody hell are they trying to accomplish? We're all scared witless, sure, but if they want us dead there have got to be faster, easier ways!"

"Rose-"

"Try dropping the chimaera in our midst! Or better yet, fly a dragon in and start roasting the student body one by one, instead of making old Myrtle haunt some-"

"Rose!"

"What-?!" But the word had scarcely crossed her lips before she knew exactly what.

Proudly propped up in the middle of the snowy lawns was the blue-tinged figure of a young witch, divested of all but her undergarments. She was staring off toward the Quidditch pitch, arms firmly pressed to her sides, long black hair billowing all around her emaciated frame in the cold winds. Even as Albus wondered if this were some perilous form of student protest, he noticed a large group gathering around her, some laughing, others merely staring as if disgusted or offended.

"Al," Rose breathed. "Is... is that who I think it is?"

Edging their way around a cluster of tall seventh-years, Albus tried to get a better look, and was sadly unsurprised to find Jezabel Skirrow's nose peeking out from the mad tangle of hair undulating on the surrounding air. He was sure those were tears frozen to her cheeks, and her frown was somewhat resigned to this compromising, potentially fatal happening.

Revelations began to creep through his mind. First, that someone had once again done something odious and unwarranted to this innocent target of hatred. Second, he suddenly became aware that he was gaping at her nearly-bare figure, and he jerked his vision elsewhere, the colour rising powerfully in his cheeks even as he continued to feel anger and pity.

"It's the Body-Bind Curse," Rose hissed in his ear. "She can't move, she- she's got no choice but to stand there and take it."

But as Albus watched Scorpius Malfoy whisper something to Genevieve Nott, watched her giggle in response, he gritted his teeth, blood rushing in his ears as he said, "We'll see about that."

Before Rose, Scorpius or the mob could react, Albus had his wand out and trained on Malfoy, closing the distance between them with alarming speed. The Slytherin's grey eyes had just enough time to register he was about to receive something unpleasant when Albus bellowed, "MELLISIO!"

"Hey-!" Malfoy shouted, but his words were immediately cut off by several pints of a viscous golden substance that gummed his eyes, nose and mouth.

"Maybe that'll shut you up laughing at other people's misfortune!"

Scorpius desperately began scrabbling at the offending gunge as Timothy Goyle and Chester Pucey glowered down at Albus. He did not flinch, instead falling back into a dueling position, almost hoping one of them would dare raise their wands. Just when he was sure he'd have to take the entirity of Slytherin House on, he heard a clear voice ringing out over the white lawns.

"What's this about? Please, you mustn't- Good Lord, what the devil's going on here?!"

It was a tall, lean, curly-haired wizard Albus vaguely recognised as a teacher- but all questions were answered when Rose called out, "Professor Finch-Fletchley, thank Merlin you're here!"

"Stand aside, budge up there, I say!" the Muggle Studies professor ordered, parting the crowd and arriving at Jezabel's side. Albus was both relieved and ashamed to see Rose had removed her cloak and placed it around the rigid girl's bare shoulders; he should have been seeing to that instead of foolishly attacking Malfoy. "How did this girl come to be out here like this? Come now, don't any of you know?"

No one was answering. From somewhere on his left, he heard Wendelyne Moore say in a low voice, "Mightn't she have done it herself? I mean, if anyone's mad enough to stand about naked in the snow, it's her!"

When Albus turned around and glared directly at her, she fell silent, eyes downcast.

"All right, that's enough," Finch-Fletchley ordered the onlookers, who slowly began to drift toward the castle, most of them looking as if they'd been denied a real treat. "Move along, all of you, nothing more to see here! Best get in out of the cold!"

"Professor," said Albus quietly, walking up beside them, "It's Malfoy who's done this, I'm sure of it!"

"Malfoy... the blonde one, Draco's boy?" He blinked, though acted as if the notion were unremarkeable. "Did you see something?"

"I-" Suddenly it sunk in that Albus's proof was almost entirely circumstantial. "Only that I saw them laughing at her, but-"

"Oh." His fair face looked vaguely disappointed. "At any rate, we should get this young lady indoors before we discuss the matter further, shouldn't we? Let's see here..."

With a wave of his wand, the snow around Jezabel's feet melted away, though she remained upright, her back straight as an arrow.

"Some form of Sticking Charm, I'd wager. Let's try-" Another wave and she fell back into his arms, which he flung under her in the nick of time. "Oof! Potter, if you'd be so kind..."

As Albus hoisted her icy feet into the air, her hair fell back enough to reveal wide, forlorn eyes, still as darkly fetching as the day he'd first seen one of them on the Express. The cloak also dropped away, and both he and Professor Finch-Fletchley averted their gaze as Rose hurried to replace it, draping it over her as if a tablecloth and shivering all the while. When he saw the hole Rose had mentioned was now directly over Jezabel's navel, Albus wondered how much more humiliation this pitiful creature would have to endure in one day.

END Chapter Fifteen