Chimaera of Judgement

CHAPTER THIRTY: Apportioning Blame

Because he had not yet been blamed directly for any of the awful goings-on at Hogwarts, the staff were able to tempt the Bloody Baron to keep Peeves in line by whatever mysterious power he held over the poltergeist. Many suspected this was also because with them breathing down the necks of all the ghosts, his usual hauntings had been censored in such a way that the Baron grew quite bored, and had taken to actually conversing with Nearly-Headless Nick and the Fat Friar, his contemporaries. Intimidating Peeves offered a pleasant diversion for the Slytherin spectre.

The poltergeist himself, though grinning through the entire questioning, professed himself shocked and alarmed at the near-fatal experience he'd granted Timothy Goyle. No one could prove whether or not Hogwarts's master of chaos was in control or even aware of the events, and therefore let him go about his usual mischief. Though he resumed pulling irksome pranks involving jellied pig's bladders or live grasshoppers, he dared not do anything so grave as threaten the life of a student whilst under the watchful gaze of the Baron.

Albus was faced with a deluge of conundrums to solve, and most of them hinged on that fateful Wednesday that he had narrowly escaped death by falling classmate. Rose and most of the students were eager to discuss Goyle, Peeves, and anybody else that might have had something to do with this most recent attack. Meanwhile, there was another matter he was more personally concerned with.

"Can we stop talking about whether or not the Slytherins invented Peeves and deal with something much more horrible?!"

"What, what?!" Rose asked urgently before rolling her eyes. "Oh, that."

"Yes, that! Don't you think we ought to do something?"

His cousin sighed deeply as she stared out over the dreary, half-lit grounds, relaxing against the stone edifice of the school. "What, though? It sounds to me like she's got it firmly planted in her mind that she's to blame for everything since the Crusades. Hard to break down those kind of mental barricades."

"There's got to be some way to convince her," he muttered. "I can't believe I did this, I-"

"You didn't!" A brief hesitation. "Okay, so perhaps we didn't do a very good job of holding onto her trust, but it's her own warped mind telling her it's all her fault for falling for our 'trap'. No sense beating yourself up."

"You're wrong, though." He shook his head determinedly, watching as a hippogriff circled Hagrid's hut before coming in for a landing. "Even if we were blameless, we still have to try and clear this up. How can we call ourselves Gryffindors if we don't? How can we move on knowing we gave up?"

"Dunno... but we may have to. Albus, she might never come around, you know - have you considered that?"

"I'd rather not just yet."

She nodded sadly at him. "Mmm... neither would I."

Even before this discussion, he had tried many, many times to catch Jezabel Skirrow alone, or else say something in a rush to her in passing, but her typical pattern of complete avoidance had been resumed. He briefly considered sending Dobby through her window with a letter and asking the owl to peck at her until she sent back at least a brief note, but this seemed such a juvenile, mean-spirited way to force a response. He resigned himself once more to giving her space, which he felt he was doing too much of recently.

Something occurred the following afternoon to relieve Albus from the monotony of waiting, and distract the students from their constant gossip about Goyle, his saviour and the ghosts' newest attack. During lunch, a strange, wizened old man in crisp black robes tottered through the Great Hall and up to speak with Headmistress Sprout and Professor Flitwick. He seemed oblivious to the blatant stares of every student in the room.

"What d'you suppose that's about?" Aiden McLaggen asked James.

"How should I know? Looks like some daft codger paying a visit, nothing spectacular about that."

"Perhaps - except I've never seen him around here in my life." Cousin Barty's brow furrowed. "Come to that, my father has taken me with him to the office a myriad of times and I haven't seen him there, so he can't be Ministry brass."

"That is curious," said James thoughtfully.

"Have any of those Extendable Ears on you?" Albus whispered to Rose.

"Are you mental?" she hissed, eyes flying open as she dropped the last bite of her toast into the milk jug. "We can't spy on the staff in the middle of the Great Hall with a thousand witnesses - we'd never get away with it, and probably net ourselves detentions through sixth year!"

"All right, all right, just a thought!"

"Well, unthink it!" With a glance around, she continued, "but I have to admit, I'd love to be a dragonfly on that wall. C'mon, let's get ourselves to Astronomy."

They had scarcely gone a few paces from their House table when they experienced a sort of traffic accident involving Gwydion Lahey and Dorika Dunsmore. The four of them struggled to maintain balance for a time before landing hard on the ground amid gales of laughter.

"Way to watch where you're going, Lahey," Ryan Macmillan chuckled from nearby. "Thought you were supposed to be the brightest wizard of all time!"

"Stuff it," Albus shot at him as he pulled himself up by using the Hufflepuff table for leverage. "Everybody okay? Anything broken?"

"I believe I'll survive," Gwydion grunted. "Here, allow me, miss."

"Oh," said Rose, blinking at his proffered hand a few times before taking it. "Er, thanks."

He smiled modestly as he readjusted his recently-bent glasses. "Of course, of course."

"Again, such lousy luck," Dorika gusted as Albus helped her to her feet. "Thank you so much, Albus; I'm sorry, are you all right?"

"Ahh, Mum always said my skull's got an Unbreakable Charm on it," he laughed as they all headed out of the Great Hall. Before they could quite reach the doors, however, a voice rang out that startled everyone, including a few of the staff.

"There's your culprit!"

Without knowing why, his heart began thumping wildly as he turned to investigate. What had he done now? Was this about the ghosts, or some other misdeed he'd allegedly perpetrated? Just as his eyes locked on Atticus Malkin and his pointing finger, the boy elaborated. "It's Dunsmore, I'd bet my mother's crystal!"

An outbreak of muttering filled the hall as they all watched Timothy Goyle stand, nostrils flaring, face pale as parchment. Scorpius Malfoy, on the other hand, turned his gaze from Atticus to Goyle, then over to Dorika. "Hmm..."

"It makes complete sense!" Genevieve Nott screamed, lip trembling melodramatically. "He puts worms down your robes, and then you have to punish him! You're the one who nearly k-killed him!"

"N-no!" she squeaked from Albus's flank. "What? No, of course not, how could you say-"

"She was there when it happened," put in another Hufflepuff third-year. "I did see her."

"Then so were you, Iggy!" Rose snapped. "Honestly, what kind of logic are you working with?"

"But she had motive." Albus was shocked to hear those words come from Catherine Orchard. "There's no denying that."

Ryan Macmillan laughed harshly. "You want motive? Look around! Plenty of people here wouldn't mind seeing that dumb ox dropped on his-"

"Yeah, but only one student would be twisted enough to do it!" The voice was so annoyingly familiar that Albus was already groaning long before he identified it. "Too many excuses have been made for Jezabel Skirrow, and I for one think Dorika's being framed by her!"

"Fond of that bulbous nose staying in that shape?" Albus flung at Brunhilda. She blustered, but her words were cut off by an exceptionally loud BANG!

"That is quite enough!" Professor Longbottom shouted down at them all as he lowered his wand. "All this 'he did it, she did it' bollocks! Five points from all Houses, and the first person to speak will lose themselves an extra ten! You'd think we were running a nursery!"

o o o

"That Vane is such a pain!" Albus exploded the moment they had left the Astronomy Tower. "Give me a break - Jezabel tried to kill Goyle, only to turn around and save him? What is she like?!"

"Actually..."

"What?"

"Al, it wouldn't be a bad plan. No, wait, listen!" Rose hurried ahead. "I'm not saying I think she did it, honestly, I believe she's innocent as much as you, but... logically, it would be a really clever plan. It would make Jezabel out to be a hero, put everybody off thinking she might be the true threat. Hiding in plain sight, you know?"

"But she didn't! Rose, I can't believe you of all people would-"

"OI!" she shouted angrily. "Didn't I just say I don't believe a word of it?! Merlin Ambrosius, you can't hypothesise at all, can you?!"

"Excuse me."

Once, when Albus had been six or seven, he and his brother and sister had been playing in the small, rusty playground across the street from their house with the other neighbourhood children. James, being the boy he'd always been, had caught Albus's trousers by the ankles, given a hard tug, and introduced their playmates to the cartoon characters embroidered on his underpants. Few moments in his life could rival this level of mortification, and he was more surprised than anything to find he was in one of them.

"Oh!" said Rose, her voice nearly an octave higher than it would normally be. "J-Jezabel, we, er... what are you doing here?"

"I have class here," she said meekly, holding up a volume entitled "Heuristic Bandying On Heavenly Bodies". Her eyes were darting to either side of them, as apparently they were blocking her way up the staircase. Albus had been hoping for a moment like this, though in his mind it hadn't involved being caught gossiping.

"Ahh," Rose was stammering. "I mean, of course, that is, er, you, um-"

"I'm sorry," Albus blurted, quite a bit sooner than he'd intended. "For everything, everything, just stop ignoring me, okay?"

But she only nodded vaguely. "Hmm, yes. I... I really must get to class, I don't want to be late-"

"You've got loads of time," said Rose, not bothering to hide her exasperation. "And... we both want to talk to you."

"Well, I- I-" He could see the colour rise in the bump on Jezabel's nose as she steeled herself to do something very difficult. "I'd rather you didn't. Please, can't you let me pass?"

"Al's been a bit stupid," she volunteered, causing his eyebrows to hike skyward. "But honestly, he's never tried to hurt you, has he? Give us another chance, we're not the enemy!"

A hollow laugh. "I know you aren't. Excuse me."

Before either of them knew what was happening, her slight frame had snaked its way between them and was now hurrying up the stairs at a frantic pace. They stared after her, mouths hanging open.

"Did... how did that... huh?"

"You said it," Rose replied.

o o o

"We have to talk about Jezabel."

It might have been what Albus had been saying for ages, but he hadn't expected to hear it from his sister. "What? I mean... what about her?"

"There's something wrong with her, really wrong," she went on, pulling him to a quieter corner of the common room. "I'm not sure what, but somebody has to take action on this."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he sighed. "She might be the Ghost Whisperer, and also the Heir of Slytherin and a bunch of other made-up titles that-"

"Not all that rubbish! I mean... I mean she's emotionally unstable!"

"She might be, but does that make her any less a person?!"

"Albie, will you shut up?" Lily glanced over her shoulder at where some of her fellow third-years were sitting on the other side of the common room and lowered her voice. "Yesterday, I passed her in the hall, and... well, it's somewhat embarrassing, but I, er, I hugged her for saving your life."

"You what?"

Her face contorted into the most uncomfortable grimace he'd ever seen. "Don't make a fuss, all right? Anyway, I'd scarcely finished telling her why I was giving her a squeeze when she pushed away from me, looked me straight in the eyes, and- and burst into tears!"

Albus's hand felt back for the wall, and he leaned against it heavily. "She did, eh?"

"Yeah. Albie, I don't know if you did anything, or if she's just like that, but... there's a lot going on in there, and I think she might need help."

"Help? You mean... you mean a headshrinker?"

"They're called 'psychiatrists' in polite conversation," she said coldly. "And it doesn't mean she's barking, but, well, can you honestly tell me she's in a fit mental state?"

"No more than any of us are, no," he gusted.

"It's only a thought," she said defensively. "Like I said, I'm not trying to say she's lost her mind or anything, I'm-"

"I get it, Lils," he said harshly. "And... well, at least you're thinking about her well-being, unlike most people who're babbling on about how weird she is. That's decent of you."

She shrugged. "Anyway, er... yeah." And she moved to rejoin her friends, leaving Albus wondering whether her opinion was entirely out of order, or held a grain of truth.

o o o

Wednesday dawned cold and hazy. It was a sort of cold that may break halfway through the day to allow for a bit of warmth, but few in the castle held out hopes for this; therefore, most students were surprised when it happened.

"Wow, it's actually nice out there!" Rose told him at lunch as she bumped into him in the entrance hall. "Come on, let's have a walk down to Hagrid's, we-"

"No thanks," he laughed. "Better off not knowing what I'm missing while we're miles beneath the earth."

They eventually proceeded down into the aforementioned dungeons, in which they were greeted by the return of Professor Dryden. The wizard looked so decidedly sour that no one dared speak, even before he called for quiet.

"Now, then," he said coldly, running his hand through his closely-cropped hair as if trying not to go mad. "We're working on a particularly sharp Befuddlement Draught today. It's a favourite of mine, invented by the great potioneer of millenia past, Lactuca Goulash - also known for her tantallising recipies for stews and soups. We shall split the class up alphabetically, then divide you, as, hmm... let's see now..."

By the shaking of heads and whispers, Albus was sure he was not the only one who couldn't figure out Professor Dryden's method of seating arrangement for this potion-brewing session. Rose decided he'd been sampling goblets of their assignment before they arrived. At the end of a long, confusing period of milling around the room, Albus found himself at a table with Genevieve Nott, Tristessa Gulch, and Wayne Elphinstone, each one somehow appearing to be more disappointed than the others.

"The ingredients and instructions," he called, "are on the board." And so, with a wave of his wand, they were. "You may begin."

It wasn't terrible; Albus had been dreading working alongside two such unpleasant Slytherin girls, but they had decided to ignore him, which made his potion work much easier. If only it had lasted the entire class period...

"So, Potter," Tristessa whispered, overly-glossed lips sneering. "The rest of us have been curious. Are you glad the Mudblood traitor saved your life, or would you rather she let you get flattened than be in her debt?"

Genevieve snickered, but Albus only bent determinedly over his Levisticum officinale, trying to blank them out. To his utter shock, however, Wayne did reply. "What are you talking about? Of course he's glad she did it, aren't you?"

"Why would we be glad she did it?" Genevieve spat.

The normally quiet boy was aghast. "She saved Goyle, too, or had you forgotten that part?"

Both girls blanched.

"Not that we're best mates, mind you," he said darkly, "but... well, nobody deserves death by poltergeist."

"Yes, well." Tristessa cleared her throat before continuing. "Sure, it's good she saved our Housemate, but it's not as if she did it out of loyalty; I mean, she abandoned us, yeah?"

"And then there's the fifty stupid House points she scraped for Gryffindor in the process," said Genevieve through gritted teeth. "And we're supposed to be out toasting our good fortune, you say? Fat chance!"

"Wow," Albus breathed. "Guess I hadn't realised Slytherin were such a bunch of competitive ponces they'd rather lose a friend than let Gryffindor pull ahead in the House Cup."

Genevieve was livid, gripping her pestle so tightly it actually cracked. "Yeah? What do you know?!"

"Rather a lot!" Dryden blustered from the end of their table, causing Albus to slip and cut his fingertip with his knife. "Taking time out of your studies to insult your Head of House seems a waste of energies to me! Don't you have quite enough on your plate? Must you belittle my intelligence as well?"

The girl's eyes were wide enough to ride a dragon through, and her mouth was working to grovel quickly as she could manage. "N-no, Professor, sir, please, never! I was talking to-"

"Ten points from Slytherin!" he shouted, and two dozen voices gasped in unison. "And the next time you revisit this issue, we may find ourselves with a month's detentions, young lady - if not expulsion! Of all the impudent, adolescent..."

As he stalked away from the table, swearing under his breath, all four students gaped at each other, momentarily united in their confusion. Then, Tristessa realised she was regarding the two Gryffindor boys as equals and turned her back on them, and Genevieve collapsed against her cauldron under the weight of landing on the Potions Master's hit list. This was unwise, as her fringe dipped into the unfinished solution and began to produce a thick, acrid smoke that eventually forced the class to evacuate their classroom.

"What - KAFF! - what was that all about?" Rose coughed as she ran.

Albus shook his head. "KAFF! - dunno - KAFF! He seems unusually - KAFF! - harrowed!"

"Hang on - KAFF! Aguamenti!" A jet of water doused both she and Albus in the face, washing the smoke from their throats as they escaped into the courtyard. "Whew! Genevieve sure has got some pungent hair, doesn't she?"

"It was weird," Albus breathed as he sank down onto the grass, gripping at it with one hand. "Dryden just... just snapped at her! Couldn't he tell she wasn't talking to him?"

"He was already in a mood when we got there, wasn't he?" She plopped down next to him, leaning back in her usual, carefree manner. "Wanted any excuse to let off some of his pent-up rage, I'd expect. Have to admit, though, you'd think he'd find a target from Gryffindor instead; makes him look bad to dock his own House points."

"It is strange... oh, well. At least I've got the memory of Genevieve Nott's face to reflect on in times of stress, now."

"Oh, I know!" she giggled, cheeks bunching from the memory. "Wish I'd had a camera!"

o o o

Their Astronomy practical that night lasted far too long, in Albus's opinion. Rose kept pestering him for answers to certain moons she hadn't studied, and Wayne in turn pestered her, and old Professor Sinistra finally started throwing bits of chalk at them whenever anyone spoke, which quieted them very soon. All in all, he was relieved to descend the tower.

"So, I figure we ought to start in on Peele's essay first," Rose was yawning as they crossed toward their corridor. "It's what we'll need in the morning, and it's not too bad, just five inches. Then we can finish the chart of Jupiter before we go over Banishing Charms for the thousandth-"

"Are you hungry?"

"What?" She blinked rapidly at him, readjusting the strap of her schoolbag on her shoulder. "Er, no, not particularly. Why?"

"I'm feeling a bit peckish, and that sounds like studying that warrants fuel." They had nearly reached the Fat Lady when he made his decision. "I'm going to try and get into the kitchens."

"What?! But... but it's already after midnight! If anybody sees you down the Hufflepuff corridor this late you'll have no excuse whatso-"

"Not if I have a very special birthday present."

A few minutes later found a displeased-but-resigned Rose bidding him farewell just outside the portrait hole, tucked safely beneath the Invisibility Cloak he'd fished out of his trunk. "And if you get caught, I never knew anything about this, you lunkhead!" she told the air around her.

"Read you loud and clear, captain! Over and out!"

Albus found it extremely liberating to be thundering down a staircase recklessly in the wee hours of the morning, unconcerned with where Mr Urran might be lurking at that moment. He'd had so little opportunity to use his father's cloak, and he couldn't stop grinning.

'Tickle the pear,' he reminded himself as he jogged down the corridor. 'Will it really work? What if Elizabeth was having me on, what if tickling the pear sends me into the Headmistress's office or something? Wouldn't that be an awful-'

And then, all at once, his excitement was replaced by dread; that noise could only be a scream.

END Chapter Thirty