Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Not Quite An Uncle

The first sensation that came to Albus after exiting the fireplace was that he was home; the aromas of flowers and cooking, the warmth of the cozy stone kitchen, everything about it. He hadn't expected to feel this strongly about it after a single term away at school, but on some basic level, he had indeed missed his house.

The next sensation that came to Albus was pain.

"Welcome home, Seeker!" his mother sighed into his hair as she hooked her free arm around his neck, inadvertently knocking his head into James's, which was in her other elbow. "You've had an exciting term, haven't you? Oh, it's so good to have my babies home again!"

"And our welcome home present is a goose-egg?" said James as he straightened, rubbing the spot where the brothers had collided.

"Oh, hush. So..." They headed over to the table where Lily and their father were already sitting, Kreacher pushing a mug of cocoa into Lily's hands. "Let's hear what it's like playing on the same team with your sibling - not that I don't know from personal experience, of course."

A pleasant lunch drifted by with the family exchanging news of the past several months, both good and bad. Albus frowned when he received what was quickly becoming an all-too-familiar reaction.

"A Muggle-born Slytherin?" his father breathed. "Blimey..."

"That's what Rose and I said - what everybody says."

"What's she like?" Ginny asked keenly. "There has to be something that's put her in Slytherin House."

Albus was surprised to hear Lily speak up. "Well, she's... you might say she's a bit, er..."

"Spinny," James finished for her.

Albus cast narrowed eyes at his brother. "Oi!"

"She is," he shot back. "Dismal, wispy ickle thing, never talks to anybody. All anyone else knows about her is that they don't see her outside class or the library, and that apparently she doesn't wash often enough. Mental with a capital 'M', you ask me."

"I don't recall anybody asking you," said Albus frostily. "Dad, the girl's not happy there - she hasn't got any friends, the students are always having a go at her, and now she's convinced she'll be asked to leave school. They wouldn't do that, would they?"

Their mother tutted. "Of course not, don't be thick."

"I suspect Draco's boy will be the one asked to leave," their father said. "But then again, if there's anything the Malfoys excel at, it's worming their way out of trouble. Slimy gits." James, Lily and Albus all grinned at each other. "But nevermind that just now - tell me more about what the ghosts have been doing, we're only getting sketchy details down at the office."

Both parents listened in silence as their children divulged all they'd seen and heard about the spirits at Hogwarts' misbehaviour. Their mother gasped when they got to Elizabeth's disheartening night in the second-floor lavatory.

"Not little Elizabeth!"

"Who?" their father asked, taking a drink of his butterbeer.

"Parvati's eldest - that's awful, I'll have to send an owl on..."

"That's very unlike Myrtle," said Harry thoughtfully. "I ran into her many times in my years at Hogwarts, you know, and I can't recall her ever saying anything that cruel. Depressing, without a doubt, but not-"

"She was rather sweet on your father." His wife shot him a would-be reproachful look, except she failed to disguise the smirk lurking underneath. For his part, he coughed into his fist.

"Don't be silly, Ginny, dear."

"Always drifting along after you, peeking at you while you were bathing, the tart-"

"Time for bed, kids!"

James raised an eyebrow. "It's not even two o'clock."

Was that steam gathering on their father's spectacles? "Then... go and unpack, or something!"

o o o

The following days slipped by with hardly any notice. Kreacher could be seen hobbling to and fro, hanging baubles and fairy lights, muttering that he thought them ugly but that Master liked them. Lily and Albus resorted to playing wizard's chess by the fire, a holiday pastime in the Potter household; now and then their father would join them, and he nearly always won. They had tried out a great recipe for egg nog from their grandmother's cookbook, and it was just the thing to sip while reading or chatting.

Early on in their holiday, a question popped into Albus's head and would not leave. He put it off for a while, but eventually it burst forth when he and his father were hanging wreaths on the stuffed, mounted heads of Kreacher's ancestors.

"Why did I give them to you?" his father asked, dumbfounded. "I mean- that is to say- haven't you figured them out yet?"

"Yes, I have," said Albus. "And they're dead useful, the map is brilliant, especially - but why me, and why now? I mean, are you trying to say I'm... I'm too straight-laced or something?"

"No, no, of course not!" said Harry, smiling. "Albus, both of them - the map and the cloak - have belonged to me since I was Lily's age. I wanted to pass them down when the time was right, and I thought it had come."

"Oh... wow, they were yours?"

"They were my father's, even." He was used to the bittersweet reverence in Harry's voice when he spoke of Grandfather Potter, whom neither he nor his brother and sister had never known. "In fact, I could tell you stories about both presents that would turn your head - but another time, perhaps."

"I'm sorry, Dad, but I just don't understand - why didn't you give them to James, then? He's the firstborne."

"Firstbornes don't get everything," his father said dismissively. "Look at Uncle Ron; he was the sixth birth in his family, and he married the brightest witch of her age." When Albus continued to be perplexed, Harry laughed. "Come off it, Al, would you intentionally give any rule-breaking devices to James, who already gets into enough trouble for all three of you?"

Albus suppressed a grin. "No, I guess not."

"Besides... I heard you and Rose talking in the drawing room this past Summer," he whispered. "How you wished you might find a bit of adventure for yourself?"

"What?" His cheeks began to flush - had that been where the creak on the dancers had come from? "That was just a- there's- I was being a prat!"

"No, you weren't. But now I've got the chance, I feel there's something I must say on the matter - come in here a minute."

They had reached the door to the drawing room, and Harry motioned for him to go inside and sit at the old writing desk. When he'd pulled out the chair for himself, his dad perched on the edge of desk and leaned in as if the threadbare tapestry were spying on them.

"Albus," he began meticulously, "I think it important that I tell you that... adventure isn't always what it's cracked up to be."

He struggled not to allow his eyes to return to the curio cabinet. "Oh, believe me, I know. We had a detention in the Forest with Hagrid, and there was this-"

"Detention?" An eyebrow raised. "Whatever for?"

Albus grunted. "Ryan Macmillan was being a git... and it came to blows." For some reason, he was uncomfortable tattling on Rose for throwing the first punch, even though he couldn't see what difference it would make.

"Right... you should know better than that, but you've already been punished, so I suppose I'll pretend I didn't hear about this. What I wanted to say is that I'd like you to be very, very careful about what sort of trouble you get into. Nipping down to the kitchens for some cocoa is one thing, or even into Hogsmeade to restock your sweets - not that I'm endorsing those kind of shenanigans." Was that a wink? "But- well, try and keep yourself out of mortal danger, that's all. D'you understand, son?"

"I think so. Don't worry, the worst I've done so far is going for a late-night swim in the prefects' bath." Again, he thought it wise to leave Rose's name out of it.

"Good, good." His dad smiled warmly. "The last thing I want to hear is that you were daft enough to sneak into the girls' dormitory and one of them's hexed you to death."

His father had taken him by the shoulder and they were both heading for the door when something Hagrid said came back to him. "Dad, that story, about you and Uncle Ron flying the Ford Anglia to school- did that really happen?"

His father's eyebrows inched upward again. "Er, yeah, it did. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

o o o

Christmas Eve dawned bright and cold, bringing the sounds of silver bells around the run-down sidewalks of Grimmauld Place. Albus allowed himself a glorious lie-in, snuggling deep in his warm sheets and grateful that he didn't have to shoot out of bed and make it to class. Then, he heard someone pounding on his door.

"Albie, hurry up, we've got a guest!"

Who else would it be? "Go away, Lils, it's too early," he croaked.

"Mum and Dad say you have to get up! C'mon!"

Swearing under his breath, he slowly dragged himself out of bed and toward his closet, grabbing any old clothes and stuffing himself into them. Taking a quick stab at his uncooperative hair with a comb, he clomped down the stairs and into the entrance hall, where his sleepy brain finally began to work in earnest when it tried to match the face of their visitor to a person his memory and failed.

"Ah, Albus!" his dad said, beaming. "I'd like you to finally meet your, er- what would we call you, an uncle?"

"Close enough, I suppose," the corpulent blonde man said, a kind of modest smile on his mouth.

"Not that the children would've had opportunity to call you anything before," said Ginny accusingly. "We've been trying to have you 'round forever, always some excuse - what was it, a crisis with the workers' union last year?"

"That was the truth!" the man spoke up indignantly, his already-pink face pinkening more. "They were in a right state, I had to see to it! But, about the other times, well... it's strange, that your house can't be seen unless you already know it's there, isn't it? Something only, you know... your lot can do," he hissed conspiriatorily.

"Come off it, it's not like we're still at number four," Harry chuckled. "You can say stuff like 'magic' here, you won't get punished."

"But..." said Albus, clearing his throat when he realised it was still rather dry from sleep. "Don't mean to be rude, but who is this?"

"My God, Harry, he really is a dead ringer for his daddy," the man said, staring down at him with something akin to awe.

"Sorry, Al." His father put a hand on the large guest's large shoulder. "This is your Uncle Dudley - we've mentioned him before, remember?"

"You might have met him sooner, too," muttered Ginny.

Uncle Dudley frowned. "I'm sorry, okay? It's just... it isn't easy, that's all."

"The point is, you're here now," said Harry, cutting off another passive-aggressive comment from their mother. "And now you've built up the nerve, it's not so awful, is it?"

"Well..." Albus could see the man's small eyes peering around at the serpentine chandelier and the umbrella stand made from a troll's leg, and found he could not blame him for being anxious. From what his parents had told him of his father's cousin, the man was a Muggle, and most of his scant encounters with magic had only made him yet warier of it.

"Oh, nevermind that stuff," James spoke up, the first of the three siblings to get over their uncertainty around this stranger. "Relics of a bygone era. 'Course, I've been telling dad the umbrella stand is dead creepy, but he won't give it up - says it reminds him of the old days."

"Clumsy girl," his dad whispered to himself, and Albus noticed Ginny frown sympathetically.

"Honestly, though, it might look a bit dreary in spots, but it's just a house," said Lily. "It can't hurt you, we promise."

"You'll be Lily, won't you?" said Dudley, smiling warmly down at her. "Got your mother's looks, that's a dead cert. He's sent pictures along, of course, every year. Bit of a nasty spot, one day I had to explain to the missus why they're moving, but when I said it was a hologram she seemed satisfied." Harry laughed appreciatively.

"How about a cuppa?" their mum said, thumbing at the hallway. "It's only fair we get to catch up with you, seeing as how you've neglected to come for so-"

"Enough, Ginny!" Their dad laughed harder still. "Overdo it on the guilt and it'll be another twenty years before we see him next!"

As Albus learned over the course of their tea, Dudley Dursley, his first cousin once removed ascending (or 'uncle', which did seem to be a more convenient term), had become something of a bigwig with his company, Trelast's Construction. He'd also married a woman named Pauline and they now had a child of their own, whom they named after his mother-in-law, Dorielle.

"And why aren't they here in person?" Ginny asked sharply.

"About that." He shifted uncomfortably. "Talking about you to them is one thing, and showing them the, er, 'holograms', I've told her you're a holographer by trade, but... Thing of it is, she doesn't know about m-magic, and to bring her here, well..."

"Ahh, that actually makes sense," said Harry. "Didn't think you had that kind of logic in you, Dud."

Their mother sighed. "Have you at least brought pictures of them?"

"Oh, of course!" He fumbled for his wallet, opening it to reveal several photographs of a pale, brown-haired woman with a somewhat vacant expression, and many more of a chubby, rosy-cheeked girl with beautiful golden curls. Albus was reminded forcibly of an over-anxious Hufflepuff third-year.

"What a little angel," Ginny breathed, momentarily forgetting her quarrel with the man.

He positively glowed. "She really is. Mother's always fawning over Dori when she drops by."

"Ah, speaking of which," Harry said, leaning back in his chair, "how are my good Aunt and Uncle?"

"Mmm..." Dudley's smile slipped a notch. "Don't suppose you heard, but Father's just got out of the hospital."

Everyone started, and their father gasped, "Really?"

"Triple-bypass surgery, you know - the old ticker." He frowned into his tea. "The doctor says he needs to relax, find a healthy way to deal with stress, but he's retired now, and with no way to keep busy... well, you know Dad."

"Yeah," said Harry ruefully. "How's Petunia taking this?"

"Not calmly, but she's keeping well enough. By the by..." He now seemed yet more uncomfortable, setting his teacup down on the table. "Mum's asked me to pass a message on to you."

Their father suddenly seemed very interested. "What's that?"

"Er... well, she says she found an old book of yours, under the floorboard of your room... 'Holidays With Hags', I think it was? She says if I should see you to ask if you wanted to come around and pick it up."

"Ahh." His bright-green eyes rolled. "Tell her she can chuck it in the fireplace if she wants. Or... no, I'll come and get it sometime."

"All right." The itchy silence hung over them for several moments before James broke it.

"So tell us about the time old Hagrid gave you a piggy tail - bet that was a riot, eh?"

"JAMES SIRIUS POTTER!" both of his parents shouted.

James's brow furrowed over his glasses. "What, what'd I say?"

"Er, y-yes," their uncle stammered, rising to his feet, "I sup- suppose I'll be going, now. Nice t-to have met-"

"Come off it, Dudley, don't pay any attention to James," said their father, glaring down at his eldest son. "You ought to stay for dinner, you know, Ginny's made an excellent pudding that'll-"

"No, no," he said, more calmly now (though his face was still quite crimson). "Actually, I told the wife that I've just stepped out to buy a last-minute gift, so I should be getting back. But it was... it was nice to see you again," he said earnestly.

Harry smiled. "Bet you never thought you'd say that, eh?" His cousin grinned sheepishly.

"Maybe we'll come by your house next year," their mother said as they ascended the stairs. "Would save you the trouble of explaining the wizarding world to your family."

"I'd appreciate it," he gusted. "Mostly because I wouldn't even know where to start."

They all shook hands with the distant relation - he tousled Lily's hair in what he seemed to think was an affectionate way that left her looking quite disheveled - before he buttoned up his bulky overcoat and pulled a woolen cap low over his ears. As he reached the doorway, Dudley reached into his pocket and withdrew a package that Albus felt sure to be a bottle.

"A nice Pinot Noir," he told Harry in a low voice, trying not to glance in the direction of the children - though Albus could still hear him, being the closest. "To go with your turkey. Don't know if you'll be needing it - might be able to make it yourself." He mimed a wand-swishing movement with his hand, and their father grinned.

"Actually, we can't do that with food and drink - it's a kind of rule. Thanks, Dud, this'll be great."

And with one last "Happy Christmas," Dudley tromped outside and down the steps. They watched from the window as he stopped farther down the street, no doubt watching their magically-concealed house shrink into nothing - he shook his large head, then disappeared into the snowy city.

o o o

Christmas morning at the Potters' followed a set of traditions put in place as early as any of them could remember. Kreacher made them a Full English followed by delicious fruit cakes with marzipan, clotted cream and real holly berries, which are slightly toxic (Harry had insisted that they not put him off this, as it was one of the few ways the wizened elf displayed any Christmas spirit, so they hid them in their napkins or Transfigured them into cranberries when he wasn't looking). Then they gathered around the tinsel-topped fir in the entrance hall and opened their mountains of presents, marvelling (or laughing) at their contents. Albus himself received a handsome new set of brass scales from his parents, a large box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans from Lily, a mince pie and a blue jumper with the letter "A" embroidered on the front in gold from Grandmum and Granddad Weasley, one large tin of treacle fudge from Hagrid (which was actually very tasty if you softened it up in your tea for a while), a broom-servicing kit from Uncle Ron, and a bright-green woolen cap with rosebuds patterned all over it from Aunt Hermione and Rose ("Revenge", the card said, and he snorted).

Once they'd cleared away most of the wrappings and Albus was going up to put away his gifts, James caught him up just outside his bedroom door.

"Hey, Al, er... d'you have half a mo'?"

He regarded this sudden interest warily. "I might."

James took a deep breath as if steeling himself for something wholly unpleasant. "I wanted to offer you a trade."

"What sort of trade?"

"My Firebolt for yours."

They stared at each other, the sounds of Lily laughing with their parents reaching their ears faintly. After a long moment, Albus cleared his throat and said, "Come again?"

"Thing of it is, Al, you're Seeker now. I'm used to Dad's old Firebolt, it won't take me any time at all to readjust, but... well, a wizard playing Seeker needs the fastest broom on the team, doesn't he? Only makes sense, really, and - I mean, hell, it's Christmas."

Of all the things that could come out of his brother's mouth, this was the last sort of offer Albus had been expecting - the list was topped by propositions like "your owl for this bit of lint," or "your savings for a fist in the mouth". The idea was wild, unprecedented - and yet his reasons were logical. He was doing it for the team, not because he'd grown a heart overnight. The thought of owning - or at least borrowing - the hands-down finest racing broom ever whittled by wizardkind shot a thrill through every pore of his body.

However, Albus said, "Thanks, James - I mean it, really - but... I don't think so."

"What?!" He gritted his teeth. "Listen, you little blighter, I offer you the ride of a lifetime, that I've been saving every Knut since-"

"I know," he sighed. "And... seriously, it looks and sounds like the greatest broomstick known to man, no question. But... well, I like Dad's old model, and... and I haven't got much of a chance with it, yet. You've had it from your second year on, and now it's my turn with the legacy." He looked away, off toward a bit of garland hanging from the railing. "Bet that sounds stupid."

He waited for James to start laughing at him, but to his complete shock, he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Not at all, shorty - I felt the same when he first let me borrow it, too. But if we lose to Hufflepuff cos you weren't flying fast enough to nab the Snitch, you'll be the one answering to Wood, not me."

"Yeah, well, of course."

As Albus watched his brother climb the steps to his room, he had the strangest sensation they were both smiling, even though they didn't know why.

END Chapter Seventeen