Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: A Lesson In History

In Albus's opinion, the remainder of January following Belvina's stabbing was a mixed bag. While no one died, and both he and Rose received mostly good marks on all their schoolwork (the exception being a particularly treacherous Defense Against The Dark Arts lesson, in which they both failed to employ good use of the Impediment Jinx and got set a small heap of additional homework by Professor Peele), nothing amazingly good happened, either. They also could think of no more possible solutions to any of their three biggest problems: the mystery of the Hogwarts ghosts, Jezabel's sad state, and the ever-present looming threat of their O.W.L.s.

Jezabel, for her part, seemed to be gradually coming around - which is to say she eventually stopped avoiding them altogether and would actually return their greetings in the hallways, though she remained largely withdrawn. Albus forced himself to be glad of the minor improvement.

One brief bright spot interrupted the otherwise cold and dreary month, and just two days after Belvina "did a Damocles", as Catherine Orchard liked to call it - though most students thought she was talking about the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion. As Albus was sitting down to breakfast that morning, rubbing sleep from his eyes, three or four owls swooped down upon him, littering the space in front of his pumpkin juice with small packages and envelopes.

"Whoa!" Rose gasped, moving her plate of eggs and toast as another landed, its wing flapping briefly in someone else's leftover cornflakes. "What've you done to deserve this, and where can I sign up?"

Albus was too busy ripping open the package that Dobby, his own pet, had brought from his parents; nipping his knuckle affectionately, the tawny owl hopped over to investigate those cornflakes as Albus withdrew a pair of dragon hide gloves.

"Oh yeah," said Rose, glancing around at the other owls, all of whom were eager to deliver their packages first and beat out their fellows. "That's right - Happy Birthday, Al!"

"Cheers," he said distractedly. "I forgot... wow, I needed a new pair, too, my old ones are worn pretty thin, and there's a hole in the thumb - thanks, Dobby!"

His owl hooted and took off for the Owlery, a drip of milk falling onto Aqua Rankin's head, causing her to look around for the culprit.

It turned out he also received the revised edition of "Hogwarts, A History" from Aunt Hermione that she'd had a hand in publishing, an antique monocle from Aunt Andromeda (he was quite surprised she even remembered), a small ruby lapel pin in the shape of a beetroot from Professor Longbottom (the note said something about "To remember our chat in the shed by"), some experimental product called Anise Ants from Uncle George, and a thick, handsome tannish vest from Hagrid.

"What on earth is this stuff made of?" asked Rose, running her hand over its tough material. "It's no ordinary leather, but it's definitely not from any dragon I've heard of."

"The note says... blimey! It's manticore hide!"

"No, it isn't," Rose scoffed, squinting down at it. "There's no way, not in a million years-"

"But that's what it says!" Shoving the note under her nose, he went back to admiring the vest. "Holy hippogriffs, I wonder what he had to go through to get his hands on one..."

Rose couldn't help but smile, even as she looked faint. "Knowing Hagrid, he'll have slain the manticore himself."

The memory of his interesting gifts carried Albus through the rest of the day - even the rigorous Transfiguration period in which they tried turning geese into mongeese. After a heavy supper that put him in a drowsy mood, he and Rose settled to Professor Abbott's abysmally-long essay on Switching Spells, but the fire was so warm and soothing that he'd scarcely worked out the first few inches before he dozed off.

A pain in his shoe awoke him with a start; Albus's eyes fluttered open to see Rose hovering over him, hand on her hip.

"Wh... wha?"

"Do you want your stupid present or not?"

When he only stared at her, she tutted exasperatedly and thrust a box into his hands - and this box seemed very familiar to him. He was only just prising the lid off when he stopped, looking up at her suspiciously.

"Oh, very original. You can't, Rose, I won't let-"

"Shut up and open it."

Sighing, he knocked the lid off and only rolled his eyes when he beheld the familiar Invisibility Cloak. "Don't be stupid, I'm not taking this back. It's yours, I wanted you to-"

"You wanted me to quit giving you the silent treatment," she said matter-of-factly. "Why on God's green earth would you actually part with something like that otherwise?"

"I wouldn't give it to just anyone, you know."

For one wild moment, he was positive Rose was about to start crying. Then, she shook her head violently. "Look, if it really were nothing but some amazing cloak, I might actually consider keeping it. Albus, it belonged to your grandfather - it's an heirloom, and you're the heir! You can buy me a house when we've left school as thanks if you wish, but there's no way I'm stealing a birthright from you. Gripe all you like, but you're taking it back."

He stared down into the box at the silvery cloak, now wondering if he might cry himself. Before he had to worry about hiding his tears, he heard his cousin say, "Happy Birthday" and dash up the stairs into her dormitory, slamming the door shut rather loudly.

Next morning at breakfast, there was a sort of awkward silence for a few minutes due to how they had left things the night before. Then they both seemed to realise at the same moment they were late for Double Transfiguration, and their essays still weren't finished. Professor Abbott was quite displeased with them.

o o o

The following Monday, word began to spread quickly throughout the castle that nearly a dozen students had been taken to the hospital wing. Everyone had to put up with a plethora of conflicting, unlikely tales before Headmistress Sprout announced to the school at large that for the first time in half a century, there was an outbreak of spattergroit. It was finally determined that Jocasta O'Quin, a Gryffindor sixth-year who had a very temperamental stomach and couldn't eat much of the Hogwarts food, received a rather greenish cured meat from home that had given her the disease, and her coughing had spread it to a few more students on her way to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey evidently was working from behind a Bubble-Head Charm and several other enchantments so as not to catch it herself; she was learned enough to recognise the symptoms the minute Jocasta walked into her ward, and immediately commanded the girl not to come any closer or she'd throw a bedpan at her.

It wasn't until the next day that Albus gained further information that made him feel green himself.

"Rose!" he hissed, grabbing her by the lapels as she exited the girls' lavatory. "You're not going to believe- oh, Merlin, it's terrible!"

"What?" The fleeting glance she threw over her shoulder told him she was slightly weirded out by the fact that he'd been waiting for her outside the loo. "Er, Al, calm down, what's the-"

"It's got Jezabel, and Dorika, and- and- and James!"

Her eyes flew open. "The spattergroit? No!"

"Yes!" It was amazing how all three names cut him to the quick, even though he scarcely spoke to the first two and the third usually had nothing nice to say. "They're all down there right now, moaning and- Rose, we've got to do something, we've-"

"Calm down, Al," she said shakily, leading him further down the hall. "I- I'm sure Madam Pomfrey can put them right, she's- she's always worked miracles, and everybody knows spattergroit's not usually fatal-"

"Usually?!"

"-though sometimes victims may be scarred for life-"

"Rose, for Peverell's sake!"

Just as Albus was about to grab her lapels again and shake some understanding into her, he was almost bowled over by Professor Dryden, hurrying toward the hospital wing and carrying two extremely large glass jars full of small, squishy things.

"What d'you think that's about?" Rose breathed. "The one had toad livers in it..."

"Who cares what Dryden's having for lunch? That's my brother in there!"

Luckily, it turned out the situation wasn't so dire as they had feared, and all the afflicted students were released just a few days later. Albus and Rose, who had been waiting at the door with Lily, Hugo and the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, immediately threw themselves upon James, ruffling his hair and pounding him on the back. Other than a slight greenish tinge and a tendency to wilt now and again, you couldn't tell any of them had been sick at all - save Jocasta herself, who had the faintest pockmarks around her temples from where she'd begun to break out in spattergroit's accompanying pustules before they could administer the remedy.

"Yeah, Pomfrey says they caught it just in time," James told them as the crowd parted to allow a surly Chester Pucey and Atticus Malkin to tromp through, rubbing their faces groggily. "Another few hours and we might not have been cured so easily - and might've spread it even further."

"Urgh," gasped Dorika Dunsmore as she stumbled past them. "I don't think I can ever ingest eel again..."

"Al," Rose whispered, nudging him in the back. He looked up to see Jezabel edging around behind Aiden McLaggen's wide back and making her way slowly down the corridor. Nodding his understanding back at Rose, he slipped away from the crowd and followed after her.

"Jezabel, wait up!"

"Huh?" She spun dizzily to look at him, then smiled weakly. "Albus. H-hello, how've you been?"

"Me? What about you? Spattergroit, eh?"

She nodded, turning to continue walking. "Yes, it was very interesting... well, in a disgusting, painful sort of way."

"I'm sorry I didn't come and see you, but-"

"-but you would've caught it, as well," she snickered. For some reason, this small thing completely erased all the residual anxiety that had been lingering in his bones, as if it contained the truth that everything was normal again, and he fell into an easy pace beside her as she headed upstairs.

"So... how've you been, really? And I don't mean going all green and slimy."

He realised too late that he'd said entirely the wrong thing, and the way Jezabel stumbled almost imperceptibly confirmed it; how could he have stepped in it that stupidly? Thinking quickly, he added, "Now you're back to your normal, non-slimy self, we've finally a chance to talk."

Her semi-appreciative, "thanks so much for the used toilet tissue" smile told him he'd not succeeded in correcting his error, but it did seem to have kept her from running off. "Well, all right, then, I suppose... what shall we talk about?"

This one had him; he'd never been asked to pick from any topic in the universe at random before. "Er, ahh, erm... I dunno."

To his relief, they both laughed, and for the first time he got to see something resembling happiness in her; a true smile, a lightness in her usually-downtrodden soft tones. As unexpected and brief as it was, he thought it suited her.

"I... I'm sorry about what I said," said Jezabel in a rush. "Before Christmas."

"What you... er, I don't follow."

"That... that you should have left well enough alone. You were trying to help, I- I know that. That was very rude of me, and I'm sorry." He became aware that she was trying not to glance in his direction, as though she were still the Muggle-born Slytherin that wasn't permitted to look at or touch anything. This brought a subject to mind, and he seized on it, having no other ready alternatives.

"So, your parents are both Muggles? I... crap, that sounded a lot less blunt in my head."

"Yes," she giggled, finally reaching the stairs. "Yes, they are. It's a bit jarring - being told that instead of learning geometry or world history, you'll be learning how to make baubles levitate, or change into goats. I couldn't explain the things I was doing when I was younger until she came to see me, told me that I was accepted here - then, it was like everything made sense."

"Things you were... doing?"

A slight nod. "Magical things. Once, I blew out all the candles on my brother's birthday cake without opening my mouth - and I was on the other side of the room. I just remember wishing it were my birthday... and they blamed me, they knew it was me somehow, because I was always behaving so oddly. Back then I... oh. No, no, I can't. I suspect you'd find it all tiresome, anyway."

"Go on."

"No, I- I really can't say, it's- no, please, don't ask me that right now, it's too-"

"Listen to me." Suddenly, Albus found that now more than ever he wanted to make this girl in her secondhand robes and worn-out shoes understand that she was going to suffer no antagonism at his hands. "Whatever you tell me, unless it's something that is literally threatening your life - Mum's the word, I mean it."

Jezabel came to a halt, lip trembling. Albus was sure she was going to burst into tears again, but instead she blurted, "I thought they were faerie tales, all right? I thought leprechauns, or imps, or invisible elves or something were d-doing these strange things - that they were playing cruel jokes on me, punishing me for thinking bad thoughts about my siblings, or my parents, or my primary schoolmates. I- I used to think a lot of bad thoughts about people, used to be angrier and more selfish, but then- then the magic started happening, and I learned that I shouldn't, that I couldn't do that, and- and little by little, the bad things stopped happening."

"I see," he said slowly. "So... so because you thought you were being punished, you learned to control your accidental magic. That's kind of amazing."

She laughed again, but a more nervous laugh, as if he shouldn't be saying such things. "I'm not sure what Mother would have done with me if I did keep it up - put me up for adoption, or maybe just tried punishing me whenever I'd done magic. I'm fortunate."

Albus couldn't help but disagree, but another thought saved him from needing to say anything. "She... she came to see you. A staff member brought you your Hogwarts letter?"

A rather sad nod, Albus thought. "Headmistress McGonagall."

"What?" he gasped, looking sharply at her. "But... but she's dead!"

"Of course she is," she sighed meekly. "She died scarcely a week after she visited us. I... I can't explain how badly- how deeply it touched me. McGonagall was the ambassador, she'd come to extend the invitation, and... and I wouldn't be seeing her around, couldn't ask her for advice. It was... difficult to accept, but... but they brought the students to the funeral, and I saw her there, saw her body in its coffin, and- and-"

"Hey," Albus said, squeezing her shoulder though unsure whether he should or not. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't know."

"No, you didn't." This seemed to be her way of saying she understood, for she reached up and patted his hand gently. Then, as if it were electrified, she jerked away, shaking all over.

"Er-"

"I'm sorry!" she wailed, glancing down at her own hand, then up at him again. "That was- I'm not sure what I was thinking, I- sorry, I- I have to go!"

And for what seemed like the thousandth time, she was legging it out of the room - or, in this case, hallway. Albus stood there for eons, blinking rapidly and trying to decide whether this last part had actually happened or he'd just passed out and dreamed it.

"Wow," Rose whispered several hours later in the library. "She really just ran off, no explanation?"

"It's like she thought I was going to bite her!" They paused to watch Madam Pince, the librarian, stalk by, her eyes narrowed at them as if daring them to smudge one of her precious tomes. "Did I do the wrong thing? Putting my hand on her shoulder, I mean - too much?"

"No, no, I don't think so - I... well, this is nothing but speculation, mind you."

"Right now, I'd take Sir Cadogan's theories seriously."

Rose's eye twitched, as if she were not at all pleased with such a comparison, but pressed on. "Thing is, I'm not sure she meant to pat your hand at all - a reflex, maybe? Remember, she's always been kind of leery of touching people - or, well, touching you at any rate. Might be a personal thing, like she does fancy you and keeps going all bashful... might be she's just afraid of physical contact. Dunno."

"Yeah... yeah, that's true." While he had been mulling over the Puddifoot Fiasco, the train ride came back to him, then Headmaster Snape's tomb, and finally the more recent Trophy Room debacle. "What's that called again, when people hate being touched?"

"Aphephobia. Well, she might have mysophobia, but looking at those nails-"

"Wait, wait, what?" Albus stared over at Rose as if she'd just hatched from a dragon egg. "Where are you getting this stuff?"

She scowled at him. "What, aren't I allowed to know stuff? Stop acting like I'm cheating under the table." Even so, he noticed her ears turning pink.

o o o

The Slytherins were lucky the staff were able to restore all the spattergroit patients when they did, as their Quidditch match against the Ravenclaws that took place the very next morning might have been a massacre with Chester Pucey laid up. As it was, they only suffered a minor defeat - a solid ten goals put the score at 160 to 100. Yaxley was simply no match for Joseph Moran, who was apparently quite a good Seeker in his own right besides something of a ladies' man, having caught the Snitch twice this year already. Albus felt the pressure mounting on his back to do well in the coming game.

Apparently, Olivia Wood held similar feelings, as their training sessions seemed to be stretching further and further into the night. Frozen to the bone and wishing for nothing but a cup of hot broth to thaw him out, Albus desperately asked Elizabeth Larkins how to get into the kitchens after a particularly windy practise.

"I can't believe you don't know already!" she said, obviously shocked as he posed the question to her, sinking into the chair next to her in the common room. "Just... just tickle the pear!"

He could feel his eyebrows knitting. "What pear?"

"The pear on the painting in the basement corridor, you git! Big one, bowl of fruit?"

Their unbelievable trip through the room full of stars came back to him in a flash. "Oh, right, I've seen that before - so that's the way into the kitchens, is it?"

"Now, you didn't hear this from me," she said hastily. "In fact, we've never had this conversation, got it? All I need is to get in trouble for breaking into the kitchens again!"

"But wait - why exactly am I tickling a flat fruit?"

Elizabeth rolled her sharp eyes, folding her hands on her lap patiently. "When you tickle it, it turns into a doorknob. Merlin, next you'll be asking what castle you're in."

Unfortunately, at that exact moment Rose came in from the tundra to remind him that they had a quiz in the morning, so he had to content himself with sitting right next to the fire as they pored over their books, trying to cram as much information on the Unforgiveable Curses into their heads as possible.

"Don't know about you," said Rose airily as she poured gravy over her entire plate the next day at lunch, "but I do believe I got top marks on the quiz. And Astronomy was a breeze, too!"

Albus smirked, not as sure he passed with flying colours as his cousin. "Better load up on heavy foods; we can catch a few winks next period."

Indeed, they were soon staring blankly into space in History Of Magic, listening to Professor Binns prattle on and on about some troll riot or other. Then, a curious thought drifted through his mind, and after several thrilling minutes of droning he decided now was as good a time as any to ask, since they obviously were only taking enough notes to know what to read for themselves later.

"Psst! Elizabeth!"

Her head slipped off of the hand that had been propping it up and nearly smacked against the desk. Blinking around dazedly, her eyes finally found Albus, and her lips mouthed, "What?"

"Hey," he said, leaning over slightly so she could hear him more easily. "About the kitchens... how did you find out about that?"

"Why?"

"No reason - call me inquisitive."

Checking warily on Binns, then realising he might never even notice if she belched directly in his face, she leaned in herself, eyes gleaming at the chance to retell this apparently-fun yarn. "Okay, well- I was talking to Janice King one day last year - you know, the Hufflepuff captain?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Anyway, she likes to load up on carbs before a match, and her sister who left school two years back once told her the kitchens were very near their common room. So she goes rubbing all over the place, trying to suss out wherever the entrance might be, when the pear in the painting started wriggling a bit just as she touched-"

"Who do you think you are?"

They both looked up, startled, at Professor Binns, who was definitely not bending over his books anymore. In fact, the normal silvery-white hue he held now bore a distinct pinkish tinge, and his aged face was contorted into a mask of fury.

"S-sorry, Professor!" Elizabeth stammered automatically, sitting upright in her chair. "W-we won't let it happen again, we were only talk-"

"Like to make a scene, don't we?" he rumbled, drifting slowly through his own desk, the light gleaming off his insubstantial spectacles. "Can't possibly conceive that there are other witches and wizards on this great orb, can you? You contemptible, useless, wretched-"

"No," Elizabeth moaned, eyes stretching wide, lip trembling. "I- not again, I- please, don't, stay back, I'll make it right, I swear, I-"

"You are a blight on humanity! And this is what we teachers do with blighters - we educate them!"

Albus had just enough time to glance over in the direction their translucent teacher was now staring, into the slackened, terrified face of Belvina Hitchens before he saw the Professor move again, and this time he was not merely aiming to intimidate. Seizing an old inkwell from his desk that probably hadn't been unstoppered since the man was alive, he turned and threw it hard directly at Belvina's forehead, where it exploded, raining glass, ink and blood over the students behind her.

Both Albus and Rose were on their feet at once, and as they reached Belvina's slumping body he noticed David Jones and Sandy Galbraith were also at her side, brushing the jagged debris from her face as best they could.

"Is she okay?" Rose hissed.

"I think so," said David, looking the gash over. "It's not very deep, I don't think any's really stuck in the skin. Might be concussed, though."

As Sandy used her wand to magically wipe more of the thick dark mixture away, Albus spared a cautious look in the direction of Professor Binns, who was silvery-white again and staggering dazedly toward his desk - or as much as a ghost can stagger, at any rate - blinking around at his students as if waking from a midday catnap.

"Hmm, I... hmm. Yes, now, what was I saying? Ahh, that's right, Ungnuk The Unruly..."

END Chapter Twenty-One