Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Peeling Back The Layers

"You right bastard!" Rose shouted at him once they'd left the Great Hall, face white as a sheet. "Why didn't you tell me about any of this?!"

"Dunno."

"You don't know. Well, that's fine, isn't it? Here I am, being kept in the dark all morning when you knew that Jezabel had run away from school! I ought to snatch you bald!"

Albus chewed the inside of his lip. "What was I supposed to say? 'Morning, Rose, sleep well? By the way, we've lost a student because the Slytherins have redefined sadism, but try not to think about it as we have to finish breakfast, and we're supposed to work on countercurses again in-'"

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped. "You bloody well know I'd want you to tell me!"

He considered a moment. "Maybe. I just... it didn't feel real, still doesn't. How can she be gone, where'd she go? Why did they have to drive her away?"

"You think she fled because of the tortures?"

"You didn't see her," he growled, fingernails cutting into his palms. "Being mangled like that on top of the week she'd been having? When I think about it, I'd have been dead flummoxed if she did hang around, I guess. Course, I've been trying not to think about it too hard because every time I do, I have a strong urge to destroy things."

Though her nostrils continued to pulsate, he could tell she was regaining composure as disgust replaced incredulity. "So... all that stuff Sprout said, scarring, slashing... they really did it to her, all of it?"

"All of it. She had gashes, burns, bruises - even the bent conk. I can only imagine what else they'd have done to her given the chance."

"Well, they've been expelled, now," she said with a righteous nod, though her voice quavered. "Or two of them, anyway, which is worse than those gits usually have to suffer."

"Mmm. Got to admit, though, I am surprised by one thing. With the rest of the gang being there, why wasn't Malfoy? What could he possibly have found more interesting than battering the Muggle-born?"

"Might have been battering somebody else," Rose muttered.

"Yeah. Or maybe he was in the loo. Weird, though."

"So, er..." His cousin's gaze dropped to her shoes as she stuggled to give voice to her thought. "What do we do now?"

"Do... about what?"

"Jezabel. If she's out there all alone, Al, I... isn't it our fault?"

He stopped short, for the first time realising they'd ended up outside on the sunny grounds when they should have been heading up to History Of Magic. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care. "What do you mean?"

"It's like you've been trying to tell me from the beginning: we ought to have befriended her, been watching her back. But we didn't... I didn't. Maybe if we'd told her to meet us somewhere after class, to have a chat or-"

"We can't think like that," he gusted. "Sure, we naused everything up on our end, but we can't take the blame for crap the Slytherins are doing, that's-" But he fell silent when he saw Rose was barely holding herself together, a furious, self-loathing quality to her trembling.

"Al, it's all our fault! Longbottom told us to welcome her into the House, and this is why, I'm sure of it! She needed a safety net, some support, but there's only so much you could do by yourself, I should have been there for her - for both of you!"

To be honest, she was beginning to scare him. "Rose, cut it out, will you? This isn't helping, it- nobody blames you!"

"They should, though!"

"You came around, once you saw - that counts for everything. All those people who saw and felt no change? They're the blighters who ought to be caned. So come on, pull yourself together, yeah?"

She wiped her eyes and nose, sniffling. "Sorry; got a bit drippy, there."

"Feel rather drippy myself." Ruffling his hair, he turned back to look at the castle. "We should head for class."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

Shrugging in unison, they marched straight down to Hagrid's, praying silently that Professor Weasley would understand.

o o o

The rest of the day would be mostly forgotten by the rest of the students in a flurry of accusations, lamentations and desperate explanations. The four accused whom had been allowed to stay on at Hogwarts were shunned everywhere they went, even by their closest friends. Meanwhile, Albus had to endure listening to everyone blunder through to the truth on their own, he himself lacking the will or energy to help explain.

"The Skirrow girl's gone missing?" James was whispering to Olivia just before practise that evening. "Blimey, you think it's got anything to do with the expulsions?"

"Might just," she replied. "Either way, the teachers have seen to it, so we ought to let it be."

Albus felt privately cross toward her and her passive attitude.

Friday was no better. All morning through Double Potions, their professor misspoke and knocked things over, presumably distraught over his own students' vile attitude toward their former Housemate. Albus wasn't sure if Dryden's feelings were truly sincere, being that he continued to suspect him of siccing the ghosts on helpless victims, but decided to give him the benefit of a doubt.

"There are times," he said grudgingly to Rose as he watched the Potions Master massaging his temples at his desk, "that I don't actually think he's a complete barmcake."

"And then," countered Rose, pointing to the board where instructions had just appeared demanding they crank out an essay over Easter break comprising two rolls of parchment. "That's shot my hopes of happily playing Exploding Snap with you, Lily and James next week."

"Potter! Come up here!"

Albus barely stopped himself bawling, "Oh, what now?", deciding to instead walk calmly to his desk and ask, "Yes, Professor?"

"Take this scroll down to Professor Peele's room for me," he muttered, tapping the parchment with his wand to seal it closed before handing it over to him. "Make it back down here before the end of the class period and I'll parcel out a few points."

"Of course, sir."

It was adding insult to injury. Here he was, for once enjoying the tedious, gruelling work of mixing ingredient after ingredient, grateful for any distraction from more depressing matters, and his professor had removed even that from him. How could he have been singing his praises scant minutes before? Albus plodded slowly up the stairs to the Defence classroom, not bothered if he got back hours too late for Dryden's paltry reward.

"...what I'm to do about it," a voice said from the other side of the door. Albus raised his fist to knock, but the very next sentence from the unknown speaker turned him to stone. "She ran away from Hogwarts of her own free will, didn't she? Hiding under her mother's skirt, now, isn't she?"

"Come now, Matt, don't be droll," Professor Peele snapped at him. "There were extenuating circumstances, and you are the one who signed on for this case, aren't you? Are you going to deny that there've been dozens of instances in which they bent the usual rules for a situation like this one?"

"The girl has quit school!" the man named Matt insisted. Albus could tell he was perhaps middle-aged, and sounded as if he were permanently anxious. "We c-can't send liaisons to every dropout in the British Isles, the Auror Department would fall apart!"

"That's what everyone's been saying. Was there an official memo bearing Ministry-approved responses sent out?" The professor sighed heavily, and he was sure he heard the click-clack of her high heels on the stone floor as she began pacing. Ignoring all pretense of innocently happening upon this, Albus pressed his ear against the door. "Pomona says she's made her choice, despite why it was made, and that to pursue the matter would be overreaching. I was thinking of going down to your work myself and asking Potter, but it seems ill-advised to be leaving the school at a time like this."

"Yes, so we've heard. Ghosts still not settled down, eh? Well, you've got Fane here, that's something, he'll sort them out."

"But we don't want them eradicated! This isn't a decision to be made lightly, or have you forgotten your own days here at Hogwarts?"

His voice came over wounded. "Of course not! The Fat Friar was as dear a friend to me as I'm sure the Grey Lady was to you, but that doesn't mean we can ignore the threat they pose at present! Unless we can find the culprit behind their outrageous-"

"But you've heard my thoughts on this, also," she hissed. "Dryden-"

"Yes, yes, of course," he said dismissively. "It's an interesting theory, and I'm not saying you're wrong, love, but... well, as I've said, without a shred of proof..."

A pause. "I know. I know, you're right, Matt. It's aggravating, though."

"I'm sure." Another pause. "Well, I've got to make another run to the island, and then there's a bloke selling Chocolate Toads in Leeds. Perhaps afterward I'll swing by and see about your-"

"Chocolate Toads? But aren't they-"

"Poisonous? Yes, very, and we thought we'd put a stop to them, but..."

"Wizards will be wizards," she muttered so low Albus almost didn't catch it. Both she and Matt exchanged some words quiet enough that he did miss them, and he suddenly heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Realising all at once that he'd been eavesdropping again in the worst way, he leapt backward several feet and began walking forward again just as the door swung open.

"Oh, hello there, lad!" laughed the squat, pot-bellied man with but a few wispy, white hairs covering his head. His smile was genial, but Albus surmised that he spent a great deal more time frowning. "Didn't mean to nearly trample you!"

"Afternoon, sir," he said meekly, trying to sound less guilty than he felt. "I was just delivering this note to Professor Peele."

"Oh, really? Lautitia, it appears you have a visitor!" When he looked back down at Albus, an eyebrow raised. "Say... you seem familiar somehow..."

"I have one of those faces," he replied evasively as his Defence teacher appeared in the doorway.

"Potter," said Peele, mildly surprised. "Something the matter?"

"Ah, yes!" said Matt, snapping his fingers. "Of course you'd be Harry's boy - or else his younger brother, you're so alike!"

"Mmmh," grunted Albus. "Er, Professor Dryden asked me to bring this up."

"Hmm, thank you." She cast a brief glance at the surface before stuffing it into a pocket of her mauve robes. "Oh, pardon my rudeness - Mr Potter, this is my husband, Matthias. Or have you met before? He works with your father at the Ministry."

"Dad's talked about you before, sir."

The man chuckled as he shook Albus's hand vigorously. "I should hope Harry would have mentioned me once or twice by now; I was already a young Auror when your father joined the program. Naturally, it didn't take him long to surge through the ranks with all his experience."

"Matthias, we ought to be letting the boy return back to class," said Peele meaningfully.

"Yes, of c-course, of course," he stuttered, flushing. "Time slips away in great globs, doesn't it? Nice to have finally met you, lad."

"Yes, sir, likewise."

They both watched Mr Peele set off up the hallway for a time before Mrs Peele cleared her throat. "Mr Potter, shouldn't you be getting along?"

"Oh! R-right, Professor, sorry. Thank you."

Many emotions vied for control as he clutched for the railing of the stairs he was stumbling down. Someone was here to eradicate the Hogwarts ghosts? Surely they wouldn't, not after all this time! Albus reached level ground again and slid down a wall, mind racing through the precious facts he'd just gleaned; the arrival of an exorcist, the existence of Chocolate Toads... what island was he talking about? And there was Dryden's name again, brought up in connection with their spectre-related problems. Albus felt he may never truly know what was going on in his own school.

Among all the horrible, stabbing thoughts that came to him on the floor of the corridor, a tiny pinprick of relief forced its way up through the myre and spread throughout him: Jezabel was home. As uncertain as her future may have become, she wasn't out there somewhere, stumbling half-naked through the wilderness and starving. It was enough to stand him up again and send him back toward the Potions classroom.

"...poor choice of-" Dryden stopped short in his criticism of the goop in Elizabeth Larkins's cauldron when he heard Albus open the door. "Ahh, very good, Potter; five points to Gryffindor, then, as promised. Now then, you made a poor choice indeed of nettles here, Miss Larkins. Those could have added an undesired effect to your concoction leaving the drinker with a smattering of multicoloured dots about the, er, nether region..."

"What took you so long?" hissed Rose as they filed out of the dungeon a few minutes later. "I mean, sure, Dryden was satisfied, but it shouldn't have taken-"

"Rose, prepare to go into shock."

o o o

"Here's what amazes me," she said weakly half an hour later as she absentmindedly tried to pick up peas with her knife. "Us students go around eavesdropping on the extremely-gifted teachers all the time, and they somehow never notice. You'd think we'd have two years' worth of detentions by now!"

Albus snorted. "Or that our House points would be a negative integer."

"Well, at least we know who that bloke was talking to Sprout and Flitwick - Fane, did you say?"

"Oh yeah," he breathed. "Forgot all about that geezer. You think they're one and the same?"

The look Rose gave him made her following words unnecessary, but she of course commented regardless. "Al, how many complete strangers have had conversations with the Headmistress in the past few weeks?"

"One, that we know of. That's not saying a couple others couldn't have dropped in without our knowing, though, right?"

"And Peele's sniffing around Dryden again, interesting... even though he was sending her a note. Couldn't you have slit it open and had a gander?"

"Like I know how to do that!" he protested. "Okay, slit it open, maybe, but reseal it?"

"Right, right; you'd be in hot water indeed if they knew you read through their post on top of tabhanging. Blimey, we're really playing catch with the Quod on a daily basis, now, aren't we?"

Albus chuckled. "Angelic, we're not."

"So... they're really giving up on Jezabel, just like that?"

Instantly, his blood ran cold, and he wished she'd go back to talking about the more pleasant topic of dangerous intrusions on personal communications. "Seems that way."

"Cor, that riles me!" she hissed, bringing her fist down on the table so hard the handle of her knife dented its surface. "They can't spare Barty's mum or somebody to at least go down and say, 'Are you sure you want to kiss your academic career goodbye'?!"

"Seems that way."

"Or so they say." She shifted uneasily. "But... at least-"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I had that thought, too."

"It's... Al, could you sleep last night?"

"Not a wink," he admitted, relieved that he wasn't alone in this. "Kept tossing and turning."

"Maybe now we can," she said in a small voice that was very unlike her. "She's safe, and that's..."

"Not enough, but better than nil," he finished for her.

"Verbatim. You sure you haven't picked up Legillimency somewhere?"

"Legilliwhat?"

"Nevermind."

Before he could insist she tell him what she was talking about, Professor Longbottom appeared at their shoulders, clipboard in hand. "Easter break signups - staying, aren't you?"

"Yeah, here," breathed Rose, reaching for the quill. For as long as Albus had attended Hogwarts and probably for many centuries before, this had always been more of a formality than an actual choice, because most students had been set so much homework that the idea of flying home to Mummy and Daddy was only a cruel reminder of the pleasant holiday they were missing. As he watched his cousin scribble her name down on the nearly-full parchment, a scheme began to form in the back of his mind, growing as if a weed in a normally-lurid garden of pinks and yellows, presenting its dark stalks importantly in the centre. It would be worth trying if it worked.

"Very well, then. Albus?"

"No, I'll be going home for Easter," he said quickly. "Thanks."

"What?!" they both said, unable to help themselves.

"Er, the folks have asked me," he invented feverishly. "Something about a birthday party... friend of my dad's. Real drag."

"Oh," said Longbottom, blinking as he tried to hide his obvious surprise. "Well, far be it from me to question Harry- er, your father, that is. Send him my regards, will you?"

"Always do."

Longbottom may not yet have been out of earshot when Rose snapped, "What the bloody hell are you talking about, a birthday party?! That's utter codswallop, I could tell blindfolded!"

"Of course it is," he whispered. "But... well, it's my only out, isn't it? If I can just get home, get out of this school, I can-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Are you... no, Albus, come on, that's too harebrained, even for you!"

"No, listen, it- oi, what do you mean, 'even for me'?!"

"You're going to get back to Grimmauld Place, invent some reason to go for a walk, and try and catch the Muggle underground all the way to Jezabel's house, aren't you?"

He pretended to be quite interested in the contents of his goblet as he took a drink. "Something like that."

"Al..." She sighed, watching the enchanted ceiling and its swirling, puffy clouds for a moment. "It's not like I blame you; I might have tried the same if I'd thought of it first, but... you have to see how it could turn out. What are you going to do when you get home, eh? Wait for your mum to shout at you before grounding you, then sit in your room and plot an escape for a week before they send you right back here?"

"If that's what happens, it's better than sitting idly by while she misses out on the rest of her education."

"Cor, I wish you'd told me you were plotting this."

Another derisive snort. "Yeah, that would have been loads better; being forced to listen to you talk me out of-"

"No, you git! I want to help! I want to go with you!"

They stared at each other, clearly both confused by the other's mindsets. Then, as a few students began drifting away from the table to head for their afternoon classes, he breathed, "You do?"

"What are you, dead from the neck up? Of course I want to come along! I hate the thought of you being the only one setting off to tell her that... that we miss her!"

"You miss her?" he said incredulously as her ears lit up. "Really, you actually miss her?"

"In a way. All right, so maybe I never had her 'round the house for dinner and drinks, but she's a sharp, kind-hearted person, and there's no real reason she shouldn't be here with the rest of us. I mean, she did save your life, yeah?"

Being reminded of that felt like being doused with cold water. "I wasn't even thinking about that. Wow, good thing I'm trying to do her a favour, cos I owe her a rather big one."

Rose frowned, patting him on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, mate... I'll be tagging along in spirit."

"I know you will." He sighed into the dregs of his pumpkin juice. "Come on, we have to get down to Hagrid's."

As the two cousins made their way out of the castle and across the grounds, Albus reexamined his plan. He'd invented it on the spot, so it was bound to be less than brilliant, but now the whole thing seemed foolhardy and unlikely to make a bit of difference. How would he get to Jezabel's house? Where did she live? Was there anything he could say that would make her return to school? And then there was the most dire thought of them all: what would his mother do to him when he waltzed out of the fireplace unannounced?

"I'm doomed," said Albus glumly.

"I've been trying to tell you that for years," said Ryan Macmillan from a few feet behind them. "What's finally got you latched onto that brainwave?"

"Oh, bugger off, Macmillan, will you?" Rose growled. "We're discussing something important, which pretty much always means you're not involved."

"That right? Talking about the Skirrow girl, then?"

Both of them spun so quickly that he nearly walked straight into them. Albus sized him up. "How did you know that? Been spying on us?"

"Of course not," he said dismissively, brushing a section of fringe out of his eyes. "But it's all anybody's talking about, anyway; fairly safe bet. Besides, you two were in the queue with her last Hogsmeade trip, and I've seen you chatting once or twice, so I thought you might be friendlier with her than the average bloke."

"Well, it's great that you're at least as perceptive as a troll," said Rose icily. "But unless you've got a way for Albus to suss out her home address without breaking any wizarding law, what use are you?"

"Can't help you, there," he said with a casual shrug. "But she has got a fireplace. Why is it exactly that people are always making things more difficult for themselves than necessary?"

"She's got a- hang on." Albus took a step forward, carefully watching Ryan's cocky eyes. "You're saying the Skirrow residence is connected to the Floo Network?"

"Sure it is; that's my dad's job, didn't you know? He mentioned reconnecting it after your Jezzy-Bezzy got turned into a human icicle before Christmas."

"But it can't still be connected," Rose said thoughtfully. "Or... can it?"

Albus was grinning mischievously, now. "Only one way to find out."

END Chapter Thirty-Two