Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: Poor Aim

Perhaps his latest theory of who might be subjugating the Hogwarts ghosts wasn't his best thought-out, but he wished Elizabeth Larkins wouldn't have laughed in his face when he brought it up.

"Pur-lease, Albus, have you ever met Dorika?"

"No, hear me out," he whispered, glancing up at where Professor Flitwick was trying to correct Wayne Elphinstone's over-zealous wand movements. "I just want to know if you've done anything to her lately that might put you on her list; shoved her down the stairs, or- I dunno, anything?"

"Nothing I can think of, and I certainly didn't shove her down any-" She paused there to show Flitwick how well she'd progressed with making her teacup sprout legs and walk; it stood well enough, but once it started across the tabletop it held a slight limp, which he shook his head at. Albus would have killed to do that well, only managing to make his cup grow legs so short they looked more like it were a second-year trying to develop his beard.

"Why do you suspect her?" she asked when their teacher had moved along.

"She and Belvina had a row a few weeks back," said Albus. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose was listening intently, as well. "Dorika accidentally - er, let's just say it's not a tale for the squeamish."

"Yeah, the impaling - heard about that." Elizabeth shivered. "So you think Dorika was so upset she went after her through old Binns? That's cracked..."

"I know, it probably isn't her, she... just thought I'd ask."

"Well..." She stared at her teacup for several moments before saying, "Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone."

In Albus's opinion, Rose did a poor job of concealing her eagerness. "Who, me?"

Eyeing Aqua Rankin's perking ears just a few seats along, Elizabeth hissed, "Meet me down the forbidden corridor; should be able to hang around in there long enough to tell you before Urran shows up and chucks us out."

As soon as the bell rang, the greater number of the students headed for the staircases, chattering and sharing a laugh in their precious time between classes. Albus and Rose, however, ducked behind a tapestry until the hallway had mostly emptied, then made for the old corridor that had been marked as off-limits to all students for over thirty years. As they swung the heavy oaken door closed, they heard a voice say, "Did anybody follow you?"

"Of course not," said Albus. "What's this-"

"You have to promise you won't go blabbing this all over the school," she demanded. "I know a decent hex or two, so you'd better not!"

"We promise," Rose answered immediately. "Now, why are we skulking around in here?"

"Because I don't want anybody else finding out what Dorika did - I don't even want to tell at all, but you two don't usually spread gossip around like that."

"What'd she do?" Albus asked her. "Did she hurt you?"

"Eh? No, no I mean she found out something, the exact thing I'm about to spill for reasons I don't quite understand," she grunted.

"Spill, then!"

"Well... she caught me... er, I was being..."

"What?!"

"Oh, I change my mind, I can't do this!" Even in the low light from the flickering torches in their brackets, they could see the beads of sweat forming on her smooth forehead. "Look, the whole point is that in her annoyingly-sweet way, she kept giving me so much grief that I finally hit her with the Tongue-Tying Curse, so if you'll please forget I said anything I'd like to get to Transfiguration!"

They hadn't even time to gather a rebuttal before they found themselves alone in the dreary forbidden corridor, not entirely sure the conversation had ended.

"Well, there's your motive," said Rose as they approached the Transfiguration classroom themselves. "I've read about the Tongue-Twisty before somewhere, and there's no breaking it - not unless you're a massively-skilled witch or wizard, and Dorika's just an ickle third-year. How'd you like to hear some juicy tidbit, then get hit by a spell that makes it to where you can never tell anyone about it?"

"Yeah, but that's equally abnormal; where'd Elizabeth learn a curse like that? Thought she was a charter member of the straight and narrow."

"You never can tell with people."

He smirked. "Like how they might know the Disillusioning Charm?"

"Disillusionment Ch- oh, shut it."

o o o

The morning of Albus's second Quidditch game was clear and beautiful, save for the biting cold. Glad at least for the relatively-still winds and decent visibility, he and his father's Firebolt arrived in the locker room just in time to hear Olivia complaining that he hadn't shown up yet.

"There you are," she shot nastily in his direction. "Hurry up and get your robes on, we've got about ten minutes!"

"Sorry, I was only- thought I might get a cup of tea before-"

"I don't need you thinking until you get out on the field; up to then, how about some unswerving obedience?!"

Preferring to make it out of the locker room alive, Albus threw his team robes on and pelted out onto the pitch after his teammates, hoping he hadn't put them on inside out or anything equally stupid. He became aware, with a pang of guilt, that Wendelyne Moore was still determinedly showing him the back of her - which wasn't really what one would call visually displeasing, but in this case the underlying reason she wouldn't look at him killed all possible enjoyment. Maybe he would say something to her after the match - the thought terrified him, but it seemed the honourable thing to do.

"Greetings, one and all, and welcome to the exciting fourth match of the year here at Hogwarts!" Martin Finnigan's voice boomed out over the stands, drowning out the cheers and jeers of the spectators. "Ought to be a real nail-biter today; Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff! Last game out, Albus Potter caught the Snitch and Rose Weasley blocked the opposing team's Chasers at every turn, but after a horrible show of poor sportsmanship by the Slytherins, will she ever play the same again?"

"Oh, thanks loads, Finnigan," said Rose through gritted teeth. Albus sought out the Seeker he'd be playing against; she was nearly a head shorter than him with dark ringlets and rather close-set eyes, and she was grasping her broom handle in an uncertain fashion. Even as he took this in, their commentator gave him more information.

"Seeking for Hufflepuff, we have Monica Grey, who couldn't hope to catch up with fan favourite Moran in November's game, but now she's graduated from a feeble school broom to the just-released Nimbus Two-Thousand-Thirty, and she's bound to give Albus a run for his Galleons!"

"Who's side is he on?" Olivia fumed. "Somebody get him out of that box!"

"Captains, shake hands," said Madam Chang. Albus briefly wondered if she might be jealous of Wendelyne before realising not only would the referee be supremely uninterested, but also that his and Wendelyne's trip into Hogsmeade wasn't exactly enviable. He resolved to keep his head out of the clouds, even though he might be skimming them quite soon. "Mount your brooms. Ready? One, two-"

With a tweet of Madam Chang's whistle, the athletes were shooting into the sky, weaving in and out of one another and concentrating on the four balls in play.

"And right from the off, Wood's got the Quaffle, tearing down the pitch without opposit- wait, now, King's moving to intercept, but she- yes, Wood makes good use of a Porskoff Ploy, she's dropped it down to Potter - James, you know - Potter's putting it up - GRYFFINDOR SCORE! And quick as you please, Gryffindor takes an early lead! Let's just wait and see if they can keep the momentum rolling!"

"Keep the momentum rolling?" Albus called over to Rose. "He makes it sound like we're seeking the Holy Grail, doesn't he have any faith anymore?"

"Stop talking to me and find the Snitch!" she called back. "That'll shut Finnigan's cake hole!"

Nodding, he pulled up for more altitude just as Aiden McLaggen whizzed right by him, whacking a Bludger in the general direction of the Hufflepuff Chasers.

"Nearly got Galbraith there, but she's still got the- wait, no- ahh. Not a bad move by Moore, though she nearly fell to earth; kind of reckless of her, wasn't it?"

Albus almost fell off his own broom at this. What was Martin doing? Looking down, he saw Wendelyne Moore swerving this way and that, maneuvering for the opposing goal hoops, but her face was giving off enough heat to fry an egg on. Inhaling the heady smell of cold and adrenaline, he began circling the pitch, hoping to end this game before their announcer went too far.

"Moore passes to James, James back to Moore - they've got a good rhythm going there, but might not want to keep it up too long or the other team may catch on - ahh, there we go, Wood has it, she's putting it up - OHH, tough luck! Beautiful save by David Jones, just got enough of it to knock it over to where Dunsmore was waiting, and Dunsmore's moving up the pitch, she's got a clear path - no she doesn't, James is there, he's trying to tackle the Quaffle from her, but both players are having a tough time of it - FUMBLE! It's been a while since we've seen a fumble at Hogwarts, ladies and gents, but Moore's already caught it up, she's swerving right between Bones and Grey, she's putting it up, can Jones do it agai- SCORE! Gryffindor is up twenty points!"

The crowd roared, and Albus glanced around at them defiantly, hoping Finnigan would take the hint and stop defaming his own team - and froze. He readjusted his sweaty hands on his broomstick before taking another look, almost sure his strained eyes were deceiving him.

At the very top of the bleachers, two empty seats on either side of her, sat Jezabel Skirrow, wearing a slightly faded Gryffindor scarf and crossing her fingers in her lap. Though her head was moving to and fro, taking in the furious action, it seemed to him it pointed in his direction more often than the others. Had she actually come out to watch him play? Caught up in his own curiosity, he waved at her, and after several moments she also raised a delicate hand, smiling meekly.

"Potter - Albus, that is - waving at somebody up in the stands, or maybe just showing off like his brother? Can't really tell, but the Snitch hasn't yet been spotted, so maybe he shouldn't be- ooh, Weasley's missed! Hufflepuff begin to fight back, as it's twenty-ten Gryffindor!"

"Finnigan, will you stop making us sound like berks?!" Ryan shouted angrily, but apparently Martin wasn't listening.

"Wood passes to James, James to Moore, almost within scoring range but Dunsmore's trying to get - she's done it! Possibly for the first time, Dorika Dunsmore's stolen the Quaffle - tough luck, Moore, guess you're losing your touch! Dunsmore tearing up the pitch, apparently none of her opposite numbers can do anything about it, she's coming awfully close here, and - BLIMEY!"

Albus paused in his search to investigate only to witness Dorika drifting down toward the pitch, her hand clamped over her face. Seconds after she landed, she slumped forward onto the frigid grass.

"That was quite a Bludger from Macmillan, might have taken Dunsmore out of the game for good - James with the Quaffle - looks like that's Peele down there, checking her over. Is she all right? Think sh- yes, we're getting a signal up here that Dorika's going to be okay - Wood passes to - no! It's a feint, she's putting it up herself - IT'S IN! Thirty-ten Gryffindor, beginning to pull ahead again! Wow, about missed a goal there, rather distracting when one of the players gets her face blown open!"

Albus was on point of flying lower to see if it provided a better vantage point when he saw it; the Golden Snitch was only several yards away, and to his delight, it was making for his exact location. He couldn't help but laugh at the sheer absurdity of it as he glanced around for Grey - she was watching Dorika's plight on the grounds. Casually, almost instinctively, he reached his arm out and it flew into his hand, which closed on it quick and tight.

"James puts it up - Jones makes for - NO! Right through his arms, that was! It looks like three on two aren't good odds for the Hufflepuff Chasers as Gryffindor gains control of this match! Jones passes it out to King, let's see if-"

"OI, you stupid great prat!" Albus shouted at Finnigan. "Don't you care if the game is over?!"

Then he heard the whistle from behind him. Realising at once that he should've been showing the Snitch to Madam Chang instead of their perfidious announcer, he grinned sheepishly at her, but she did not seem to care; on the other hand, the approving smile she gave him threatened to turn his guts to jelly as she called into the stands, "GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

The red-and-gold section of the stands exploded with the force of a Blasting Curse as Albus circled the pitch, holding the tiny metal ball high above his head as he laughed into the winds. Deep in his heart, he knew he hadn't put a great deal of effort into its retrieval, but a win was a win, wasn't it? Monica Grey hadn't been paying attention, and he had; it was simple as that.

When he touched down, he was immediately bowled over by what felt like every member of Gryffindor House. Professor Longbottom himself shook his hand, also, whispering, "A nonchalant catch; very smooth." Then, once all of his teammates had hugged or nearly concussed him, he picked his way slowly over to where Dorika Dunsmore was being tended.

Her face was a bloody mess, and her nose appeared to be thoroughly broken. There were also a couple of small white objects on the ground that Albus hoped weren't teeth, but the red clinging to them made that a safe bet. It seemed she had blacked out upon reaching the safety of the ground, and was now being force-fed a Pepper-Up potion to bring her around.

"Come now, dear, it's all right," Professor Peele said quietly, spotty hands pulling gently at her face to better assess the damage. "Up you get, eh?"

Longbottom took an arm over his shoulders and Peele took the other. As they led her away, ears pouring steam, he saw her shoot a weak-but-chilling look full of contempt somewhere to his left; looking over, he saw Ryan Macmillan frown uncomfortably and bow his head.

"Hey, that's Quidditch, mate," James laughed, pounding him on the back. "She had the Quaffle, you stopped her - part of the package."

"But I wasn't even aiming at her," he said quietly. "She just happened to fly in the way; I was trying to close Finnigan's mouth for him, the stupid git."

Albus snorted, and Ryan peered over at him curiously; he quickly composed his features as if he'd never laughed at the idea of Ryan getting the better of Martin.

"That guy has some serious hexes coming his way," spat Rose, literally spitting. "I hope he knows that. What kind of a milksop rubbishes his own team through the entire game?"

"A rejected milksop." It was Wendelyne; she continued to stare in any direction but Albus's, but at least she was talking around him again. "Wish it were more complicated than this, but... he asked me to have a drink with him in the village last weekend, and I turned him down flat. Guess he's decided to hold a grudge."

"Is that all?" said Aiden, eyebrows arching in disbelief. "He nearly ruins Quidditch over that? What a crap thing to- eh?"

James had nudged him, gesturing in the direction of the edge of the stands; Martin Finnigan was stomping out and toward the castle, shoulders hunched, but he stopped to glance in their direction. Seeing several pairs of eyes glaring at him, he tensed.

"GET HIM!"

He wasn't sure which of them had said it, but most of his teammates moved as one, both Beaters brandishing their clubs; the commentator took off at top speed, hand clutching the flat cap he was wearing to his head. Only Albus and Wendelyne remained standing among the straggling crowd, either too stunned, incensed, or downhearted to move.

"Nice catch," she said unexpectedly. The edge in her voice detracted considerably from her compliment.

"Thanks." He stared down into his hand at the Snitch for a moment before saying, "Look, Wendelyne, I wanted to tell you that I didn't come along just to harp on you about Jezabel, honestly! I, er, it... it sounded like fun, you know? And I'm sorry I ruined your weekend, that was so thoughtless of me, you didn't... anyway, I'm sorry."

She was still staring determinedly at the polar lawns when Albus felt a tap on his shoulder. Whirling, almost going for his wand, he found himself face to face with Madam Chang, who was smiling sweetly.

What was she doing? Thought after unlikely thought crashed through his stupid imagination as he stared between her and Wendelyne, fighting to find his voice. Was she going to ask him out, too? Would he have both of them fighting over him? It was a fantasy fit for a king, to be sure. Could he even handle two girlfriends? Would he have to let one down easy, or would this turn into some abominable paperback novel in which the strapping lad juggles them forever, or else ends up a polygamist?

"Are you going to give me back the Snitch, Potter, or do I have to go and catch my own?"

Quickly brought in for an ungainly landing, he laughed, handing over the fluttering golden ball he had not yet released and privately deciding to take a very long, cold shower before heading up to Gryffindor Tower. Yet, she seemed to want to say something more - resolutely cutting himself off from the asinine daydream he'd just entertained, he tried to raise his eyebrows in a very casual way.

"Oh nothing, only... good show, Potter." She nodded stiffly, but flashed him yet another smile before walking by him on her way toward the castle, replacing the Snitch within the crate under her arm.

"Wow, I- Madam Chang d-doesn't usually congratulate players, does she?" he stammered.

"No, she doesn't."

Wendelyne was still there. He was loathe to admit it, but he'd forgotten all about her in the face of this bizarre behaviour from their referee, and now here they were, completely alone on the pitch. "Oh, I- and we- so anyway," he coughed. Where had all the other students gone? "Like I was-"

"Hey, you don't have to say any more." Her tone was quite flat. "You didn't really want to go out with me in the first place, I understand that fine; I just sprung it on you and caught you off guard. Nice of you to try and cheer me up, though."

"No, you've got it all wrong," he lied - he hadn't specifically wanted to go out with her, but the idea had actually appealed to him when she posed it. "You're a- well, you're very- er, that is, nice-" But he was sure any snow immediately surrounding him was now melting, so he fell silent.

"Oh, really?" She finally turned to face him, and Albus saw her hazel eyes were as damp as they were spiteful. "And I should suddenly believe this... why?"

"B-because- well, I suppose there is no reason, but- but I swear there's- you're a bit of all right, you know?"

It was the best he could do on short notice. 'There should be planning committees for things like this,' he thought furiously. Then, something happened that stretched his mental capacity to cope with the events of this day to the breaking point.

Two soft, pillowy lips were pressing against his cheek. Where had those come from? And why was his vision obscured by an unruly flaxen mop?

"So are you," a husky voice sounded into his ear. It was only as she let go that he noticed arms had wrapped around him at some point, but it was too late to relish that moment, for he now had to ponder at why her form was speeding away across the lawns at an admirable pace.

"What just... I... blow me down," he gasped. No one answered.

o o o

"There's the man of the hour!"

For a brief moment, Albus thought he was having a vivid flashback; then, he realised it was Aiden McLaggen speaking, not Uncle George. "What?"

"That's twice now you've won us the game!" said Olivia, beaming as the Fat Lady swung closed behind him. "I do believe I've made a fine choice!"

"Oh, hush up," he said modestly, trying not to smile as they loosed another victory cry and clapped him on the back. Gryffindor Tower was packed with students, including everyone on the team (except Wendelyne, who was mysteriously absent). Everyone was grinning from ear to ear, offering him crisps or biscuits or else Honedukes sweets. It didn't take Rose long to summon him from within the depths of the mob, laughing and tousling his hair.

"You've done it again, Al! See, I told you Creevey had nothing on my cousin!"

"Knock it off, will you?"

But he was laughing as well, and in fact found it hard to stop for the next hour, what with the unrelenting stream of butterbeers and enthralled audiences for his retelling of the catch - not that he understood why, as it had been about ninety-seven per cent serendipity. This is how he'd imagined it should have been after his first game, with Rose safe and sound beside him, alternately praising and rubbishing him, snickering all the while. Add into that equation the praise received from the flying coach herself and Wendelyne's fleeting-but-warm kiss, and he may as well have died happy right there on the spot.

"So, we're in the lead, now," James said to him nearly half an hour later. "Nice one, bro."

"Cheers, bro." Albus tried to mimic his brother's rather stiff demeanor, which only provoked him into smacking the younger sibling about the head good-naturedly a few times.

Eventually, the revelry gave way to tired yawns, and several students drifted off to bed, or down to the Great Hall to hopefully retrieve some substantial nourishment. He and Rose stretched out in their favourite squashy armchairs, sighing contentedly and welcoming a relaxed moment. The rest of the team migrated to the other side of the common room and left them to it.

"You have to admit," said Rose, propping up her feet on a vacant chair, "it's not bad enjoying a bit of glory like this, is it?"

"Not in the slightest." He began slowly rewinding the events of the day, purposefully skipping over the kiss. "Hey, what ever happened to Finnigan? Did you string him up by his nostrils and leave him to die up the Astronomy Tower?"

"No, but tempting thought," she snorted. "Actually, we lost him somewhere on the fourth floor, not sure where he got off to. Has to show his face sooner or later, though, doesn't he?"

"Sorry about that catch you missed," he said cautiously. "It isn't easy concentrating with someone telling you you're worthless throughout the entire match."

"See?!" she burst out, instantly riled. "You can grasp that - Olivia kept going on about how I needed to keep my head in the game! Finnigan had been discrediting me, you, Wendelyne - it was enough to make me swear eternal vengeance, and here I'm to be faulted for letting a single goal slip by!" Sighing, she folded her arms. "But you didn't let that happen; you still caught the Snitch."

"Come off it, I tried to tell everybody: the whole thing was like being struck by lightning! I practically did a Plumpton Pass up there, it was flying straight at me!"

"The Snitch went up Plumpton's sleeve - you caught it. There was hand-clamping involved."

"I said 'practically', didn't I? Wait-" He shook his head. "Why are we arguing about this? We did the job, we're in the top spot now, why faff over it?"

"Because I missed the Quaffle!" She was glaring at her own feet, ears already beginning to glow. "I couldn't concentrate because that toss-pot was accusing you of ignoring your position and showing off, when I know you couldn't have been - you probably weren't even waving at anyone, were you?"

"Er... actually, I was."

"You were?" Rose seemed genuinely startled by this revelation. "Who?"

"Jezabel. She actually came to the match, Rose, I was so floored I couldn't help but make sure it was really her up there in the stands." He rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, it's my fault you missed-"

"No, no," she said preemptively. "Don't start down that road, it's nobody's fault but my own for getting distracted. Wood's right - not that I'd admit that, even under Veritaserum."

"Okay, okay. Maybe we'll get lucky and Martin will come down with spattergroit next game."

She grinned wickedly. "If he doesn't, I might give it to him myself; a good Furnunculus would be a reasonable facsimile..."

END Chapter Twenty-Three