Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: The Skirrows

Everything was in place. As fate would have it, Ryan himself was actually going home for Easter, as well; his father was taking him on some sort of camping adventure that both of them thought to be entirely pointless and dull, but it was non-negotiable as his stepmother insisted the two of them spend "quality time" together. Equally strange was the information that Ryan even had a stepmother; his knowledge of the boy who had lived across the room from him for five years was appallingly meager. More astonishing than any of this was Ryan's willingness to help at all, but Albus wasn't going to look a gift-horse in the mouth (though Ryan often reminded him of a cremello his sister had coveted when they were younger).

"All right, boys, looks like it's just the two of you," Longbottom said with a yawn. "Off you go, then."

"After you," said Ryan with an extra dash of pompousness. Albus smirked, then paced forward with his heavy bag slung over his shoulder, laden down with all the homework he'd be slogging through over break.

"Sir," Ryan began quietly as Albus took a wealthy pinch of Floo Powder from the pot on the mantle, "would you mind if I asked you something?"

At the very moment the Professor said, "Of course," Albus let a thin phial drop from the sleeve of his robes and into his palm.

"I've been reading up on gillyweed, since it was our first password of the year," Ryan was saying as Albus fought with the stopper. "Might it come up in our Herbology O.W.L.?"

Sparing the other two in the room the briefest cautious shifty, he finally unstoppered the phial and allowed the powder to fall inside, then replaced the cork and shoved it into his bag. "Of course not," Longbottom said, now glancing back at Albus as he helped himself to another pinch of powder. "It's such a rare plant, and its usefulness isn't very widespread; still, that isn't to say it won't come in handy now and again. Your father would know that, wouldn't he, Albus?" Here, Albus was sure to nod appreciatively, though he couldn't be bothered to remember why at present. "But you needn't worry about it for O.W.L.s, no."

Ryan flashed him what Albus considered to be quite a cheesy smile. "Thank you, sir."

Not wanting to wait another second, Albus tossed his second pinch of powder into the fireplace, watching the flames turn green. Then, just as he walked inside, Ryan created the second, necessary distraction he'd requested, though it arrived in a form he had not been expecting in the slightest.

"Mr Macmillan!" said Longbottom, half-laughing, half-appalled. "That's disgusting!"

"I am so sorry, Professor," Ryan replied loudly at the very moment Albus whispered, "The Skirrows'". As the room spun away from his vision, he heard Ryan saying, "Had some stale Fizzing Whizbees this morning, don't think they agreed with me..."

Grate after grate flashed past, blurring into an amalgam of unfamiliar sitting rooms, grand foyers and dingy dungeons. Then, when one stop began to feel more "right" than the others, he concentrated on arriving at his destination, and lo and behold, he did.

"Oh GOD, not again!"

Albus blinked dazedly at the figure who had moments before been sitting in a rather ugly old armchair nearby, watching a reality programme on the widescreen high-definition television in the corner. She was perhaps two or three years older than him, and from what he could see, had been assembled from the choicest bits of the most attractive girls in Europe. Despite the shocked and annoyed look on her face, her teeth were straight as an arrow, lips full and symmetrical, and her pale blue eyes shone like diamonds. Long, honey-blonde hair rippled from scalp to shoulder like a waterfall, and the rest of her figure was curvy and petite. Much though he couldn't object to her presence, he hadn't at all expected to be greeted by such a girl in Jezabel's house.

"Er-"

"MUUUUM!" the girl wailed, as if her mother were several towns away. "Mum, another one's just come out of the fireplace!"

"Hey, w-wait," he stammered. "Am- am I at the right house? Are you-"

"You'll want to see my stupid sister, won't you?" she snapped at him. "Yeah, Jez lives here, if that's who you're after."

"Y-yeah." It was an overload of unexpected information; Jezabel's dark, willowy self held nothing in common with this full-figured, rosy-cheeked blonde creature. Not only that, but so many things in this room were unfamiliar to this young wizard who had such limited contact with Muggles; the plasma screen he could identify from many, many shop windows, but there was also a personal computer on the desk against the far wall with what looked to be a small bear dancing across its black screen, and Albus had no idea why a thin, flat typewriter should be sitting in front of another, smaller television. Also, being in the same room with these modern conveniences, the distinctly threadbare carpeting and dilapidated furniture made them seem out of place, not to mention the peeling paint and squeaking ceiling fan.

The sound of heavy steps coming from above him brought him back to his senses, and he became aware that the unknown blonde girl was watching him suspiciously, as if he might nick their expensive Muggle artifacts. Smiling nervously at her, he felt quite thankful when someone else entered the room from a stairwell around the corner.

"What's all this- ah," the middle-aged woman said, lips pursing as she looked down at the soot falling from his shoulders onto the carpet, taking in his robes and Hogwarts bag. "So you'll have come out of the fireplace, too, then. You magical lot are persistent, I'll give you that."

"Are you... Jezabel's mother?" Albus asked hesitantly.

"I am." This had been more along the lines of how he'd envisioned her family: jet-black hair pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, sharp bone structure, cold, black eyes. Her thin mouth was now held at a slant as she edged cautiously around him. "She's upstairs."

"Sorry?"

"Jezabel!" she snapped, sounding very like her other daughter had seconds previously. "Good lord, at least the other chap seemed sure of what he was doing, even if he stuttered twice as much. That Ministry of yours could use a once-over, you ask me."

"Oh! Oh, no, sorry, I'm not from the Ministry," said Albus nervously. The last thing he needed was to be convicted by the Wizengamot of misrepresenting a government employee. "Well, er... I'm a friend from school. I apologise for dropping in like this, but-"

"Mmm," Mrs Skirrow grunted dismissively. "Jezabel's upstairs in her room; won't come out for anything, so best of British luck to you."

"All right, er... will you tell her I'm here? I've haven't visited before, and I don't suppose it'd be proper to barge on up and-"

"Nevermind that rubbish," the blonde daughter laughed. "She'd probably be just as shocked a living person came to see her either way; might as well skip the middle step."

It was then, as Albus focused on the bright new clothing and fine silver locket this young lady was wearing, that a phrase floated out of Albus's distant memory; "The same way my mother likes my sister better." Everything that had happened since his arrival at their house lent that claim a great deal of credibility.

"You're probably right," he said, struggling to remain polite in the face of his boiling anger. "I'll, er... I'll just go on up, then."

"You do that," the mother said. "Don't dawdle overlong, though; rather not make me husband put up with an unwanted houseguest on his weekend off."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Much to his dismay, he felt no better once he was ascending the steep steps to the first floor landing. What now? He'd spent so much time recently figuring out how to make the journey that he'd neglected to draw up a plan of action once he'd infiltrated the stronghold.

There were five doorways. One was wide open, and looked upon a queen-sized bed with very drab sheets; the master bedroom. Another had a lacey ribbon hung on the knob and a pale pink sign that bore the word "Adora" nailed at eye level. The third was slightly ajar and had a tile floor; a bathroom. He took note in case he needed to vomit very soon from nerves. When listening hard, he heard chaotic rock music coming from a fourth door that had been painted with black and blue stripes, and though he could be mistaken about Jezabel's tastes, decided this must belong to another sibling he had not met. This left one plain, unadorned door that had been resolutely closed. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

"Go away!"

Albus glanced toward the lavatory again as he knocked one more time. This time, her pained voice called, "What? Have the Ministry sent another owl?"

"Jezabel, it's- it's-"

There was a thundering of footfalls, and a much clearer voice spoke urgently from against the door. "Albus?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "I... well, that is, can I come in?"

This had become the year of long, uncomfortable silences, and as he enjoyed another one, he set his schoolbag down outside the door, hoping the wait wouldn't be more than an hour or two. Finally, he heard her whisper, "You shouldn't have come."

"Jezab-"

"Go home, Albus. I... I don't want to see you. Please go."

Out of desperation, he grabbed the doorknob, but it was locked. "I just want to talk to you, please?"

"No use trying," she said, speaking in an emotionless tone. "I've locked it magically, and- and if you try unlocking it, you'll get in trouble."

"Oh. Wait... wouldn't you have been in trouble for locking it to begin with?"

A pause. "Well... yes. They sent an owl, it... it made me feel terrible, but I can't stand the sight of anyone just now. And if I unlocked it for you, I'd get in trouble, too, so-"

"So you have to stay in there," he said, beginning to grow impatient with her lack of logic. "For how long, though? Do you have any food in there?"

"Not much," she admitted. "But... I'm not sure there's any point in eating."

"So that's it?" he demanded of the wooden obstruction. "You're going to let yourself starve to death in there? Jezabel, you can't, that's such a-"

"I can, and I will. Or I'll figure out something else, and then I'll come out, but... but for now, this is the only place left for me. It's my last haven."

"Jezabel, please let me in this room."

A pause. "No."

"I mean it, I want you to unlock it. I promise I won't stay long."

"And I promise I won't unlock it," she said, displaying unprecedented backbone. "Go home, Albus. Or... go back to school. Forget you ever knew me, because you won't see me again. It was a pleasure to have met you. Goodbye."

"But-"

"Goodbye, Albus."

He felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. How could she shut him out entirely? The only choices left to him were to face charges from the Ministry, face bringing her up on charges from the Ministry, or wash his hands of the whole thing. It was a Catch-22 like none he'd ever encountered. Slowly, achingly, he picked up his bag and moved toward the stairs, but as he reached the topmost step, he heard her family discussing him on the floor below.

"Did he even say what he wanted?"

"Not at all," the daughter replied airily. "Just that he wanted to see Jezabel. Can't we brick up this fireplace?"

"Might not have to if she keeps herself holed up in there. Honestly, she goes to all the trouble of getting those broom-riding nutters to fund her education, then gives up six years later? The girl is a nuisance."

"I've always said so."

"Not like my Adora, of course," the mother said lovingly. "You'll be off to study acting while she's moping about upstairs. I'm certainly not paying for normal schooling myself if she's going to waste her beloved Hoggywarts' public fund; throwing good money after bad. We're not millionaires!"

"Speaking of money, though, mother dearest - can I borrow twenty quid? Margret and Natalie and I are going to the movies tonight and I'm low on petrol, plus we were thinking about stopping for pizza afterw-"

"All right, all right," she said playfully. "You needn't provide an itemised checklist. Here, but try and stretch it out a bit longer than last time."

"Cheers, mum!"

As Albus listened to them tittering away, blissfully ignorant and uncaring, something pounded behind his temples. The beast that normally lay dormant in his stomach had awakened once more, this time sounding the cry of conviction rather than revenge. He would not be going home without a fight. It took him no time to bring himself in front of the door again, draw his wand and growl, "Alohomora!"

It flew open easily, banging into the adjoining wall. As he crossed the threshold and heard a cry from the corner, he found himself at a loss for words.

Blank canvas. Every inch of the small room was white, from the bedsheets and bedposts to the area rug placed atop a whitewashed wooden floor. A white chifferobe stood against the blank white wall next to a white laundry basket and a white writing desk. No posters, no stacks of comic books, no dirty clothes or games or pets or anything. The only dark points in the room were the back of a picture frame atop her white nightstand and Jezabel herself.

Before he could fully recover, something thudded against the doorjamb to his right; he ducked instinctively, even though it would have been too late if her aim were better.

"Get out of here!" she shouted, trying to back up further even though she was already in her bed, pressed right into the corner. "Wh-what are you doing? You c-can't come into a lady's room without knocking!"

"I did knock," he said dully, still not quite over the state of her barren living quarters. He bent to pick up the object she had thrown at him only to find it was an empty plastic cup.

"Then... then you can't enter without permission, can you? S-so you'll have to leave!"

"Oh, come on, stop it!" he said pleadingly as he straightened again to look at her properly. "Can't y- y- wow, okay, you were right."

"Get out!" she shouted again, trying to cover herself more completely; this may have been the second time he saw her in her smalls, but it was no less flustering. Albus suddenly became very interested in the plastic cup, which bore the logo of a popular restaurant he'd never visited. "Y-you can't stand around like that, I'm- I'm-"

"I'll turn around while you change, but I'm not leaving."

"But- but I'm-" She was approaching meltdown, so he turned to close the door. "You can't stay, you- you have to go, you have to g-go now!"

"Might as well get some clothes on, because I'm not leaving," he repeated flatly. "And I'm going to turn around eventually, whatever you've decided to wear."

"I- but you can't- but-" He could've sworn she whimpered, but then he heard a drawer sliding open. "Fine, then, I... but what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at school?"

"We both should," he muttered. "But... no, it's Easter break. Decided to spend mine trying to find you."

The room was quiet for a moment, save the rustling of fabric. "Easter. I'd forgotten, I'm sorry. So, er, how's your cousin?"

Idle chit-chat was as good a place to start as any. "Fine. She wanted to come, but she'd already put her name down to stay at Hogwarts."

"Oh. Well..." Another thump. "Have there been any further assaults by our phantoms?"

"Not since you saved my life. Can't thank you enough for that, by the way."

"No, no, you needn't. No trouble." A small cough. "Er, ah... you can turn around, I'm decent."

When he did, he saw she was wearing the same red-and-green floor-length skirt as the day he met her, though paired with a dark brown jumper this time. For all it had calmed her, she may as well have left the clothes in the chifferobe; her face remained a solid scarlet.

"Good. That's that."

"Yes." She crossed over to her bed again, sitting down gingerly on the edge. "Now... why are you here again?"

His jaw dropped in exasperation. "To talk to you! I mean, you ran away in the night before I got a chance to make sure you weren't going to die, I thought I might at least-"

While she had been biting her lip, she stopped now. "Don't. I knew you weren't going to show. The past few months, it's all been like that, everything- I don't understand my life anymore. When I was a Slytherin, I understood, I had a place and I knew how to find it by heart, but in Gryffindor? Everything is topsy-turvy, I can't find my way, and I- and I'd just as soon not go back. It's too painful, especially... well, you. You and Rose."

"What about me and Rose? No, wait, don't answer th-"

"You were so kind to me that I forgot." Her voice was so low he almost couldn't hear her for the muffled music from the neighbouring room. "Or almost. Almost forgot that kindness can kill, and it did; I opened myself to you, took liberties, and you punished me." She hesitated again, as if unwilling to admit something to both Albus and herself. "Perhaps you weren't trying to, but it happened because I let it happen. I'm even doing it now in a lesser capacity, but that's only because you- you-"

"What? What did I do now?"

"You won't leave me alone!" she gasped, fighting back a powerful surge of something Albus couldn't quite place. "You won't let go of this, and- and I need you to, so I can put the walls back up, but you're s-so stubborn!"

"Okay, here it is," he blurted suddenly. "You've got this idea in your head stacked triple-thick that everyone is out to get you, but we're not! As many arrogant, pig-headed Slytherins as there are making life more difficult, there's just as many of us who genuinely want to befriend you! But we can't do a very good job of it if you won't let us past your defenses at all, can we?"

"I don't want to let you in!" she wailed. "It's... it's so much harder, I liked it better when I only had my own dementia to deal with, because I know me! Intimately!"

He couldn't explain why he was angry with her, but he was. "That's great, then. You stay locked up inside your own head, and all the rest of us are trapped on the outside with no way to reach you. Because it's too hard. Sorry to have disturbed you."

"You don't understand," she spat, hands clutching the sheets tightly. "I... I'm not allowed, and I thought maybe I'd found someone who could give me the permission, but I was wrong, wasn't I? You tried, but horrible things kept happening, and you were part of-"

"What 'allowed', what are you on about?"

She laughed hollowly, as if he were missing out on some cosmic truth. "I'm forever being judged, by a higher power or the spirit of the earth, or whoever you like, but- but I am. I get ideas above my station, and I'm beaten back down. Better to accept it and stay where I am than keep trying to rock the boat."

"Ideas above your- Jezabel, we don't live in a caste system! Those fairy tales, the ones you were afraid of when you were little, they're not real - I know that kind of thing can stay with you, but you can't let it rule your existence, not anymore! The only one with the power to give you permission to think or feel is you."

Another shake of the head. "No, that isn't true, it isn't. Albus, I- I'm not that strong. I don't know why you think I should be able to just... change my entire life, my way of thinking because you want me to, but I can't, I d-don't know how!"

"Let us help!" He swallowed painfully, taking a step toward her. "Right, so maybe our idea of helping sometimes forces you to take a long-overdue bath, or makes you listen while we tell everybody you were pranked in Madam Puddifoot's, but... we're only people, too! Do you realise that? You are not the only one! We're all mucking it up as we go along, but I'm trying to learn!"

"Learn all you want, that's what school is for, but stop using me as your test subject! I... it hurts too much, especially from you, because you're my frie- my friend."

It was the first time she'd ever managed to admit this to him, and he could tell she regretted it even before she finished speaking. The word sounded raw and exposed in the midst of this argument, like a naïve rabbit that had wandered into a vicious den of wolves. Finally dropping the collectible cup he'd been clutching, he took another step forward. "Jezabel-"

"No!" she shouted, suddenly trembling and scooting back on the bed. "No, you can't use that, you can't claw your way through that door, I won't allow it!"

"Why does everything I say have to be so threatening?!" Sighing impatiently, he stomped right up to her bed and plopped down on the edge. "See? The floor's not caving in, we're not going to die. Having friends may not always be a picnic; my cousin has taught me that, but... we would miss you, me and Rose. I'd miss you."

She shook her head slightly in disbelief, though her tone was uncertain. "You're lying, aren't you? I c-can tell when you're-"

"Then take another look."

To his mingling joy and trepidation, she crawled forward and peered directly into his face, brushing the ever-present grimy hair from one of her dark, shining eyes. And then, so sudden he almost yelped aloud, she collapsed onto his shoulder, sobbing as her fingernails dug painfully into his neck.

"I've been such an idiot! I have, Albus, I can't tell you- I- you're so good to me, and I've been a horrible- you only wanted- I'm so very, very sorry!"

"Shh," he soothed, patting her back and hoping this uncomfortable part of the healing process wouldn't last very long. The relief that was washing over him mostly eroded away the discomfort, anyway. Several minutes passed with only the sounds of her sobs and distant heavy metal within the room before he ventured more words. "Don't fret over it. You were in a right state, it's natural."

"No, I- so many times, me always running off, and you were- were- Albus, how can I ever make it up to you?"

"Well, that is a tall order," he sighed into her hair. "There's only one thing I can think of; you'll have to sell your soul on the black market."

"What?!"

"Oh yeah. It's the only way to make enough gold to repay a debt like this. Well, there is one other thing I'd take in place, actually."

She drew back to stare at him in disbelief. "And... and that is?"

"Come back to Hogwarts," he urged. "Please, please come back? I know it's been rough, and I know the Slytherins need a good thumping, but you can't let them prevent you getting an education! You're so bright, it- it would be a waste if you don't! And then there's the part where I miss you, which we agreed is not a lie."

She chuckled softly, wiping her eyes. "That we did."

"Besides... Ursula Marrow and Zacharias Travers have been expelled."

"They haven't," she gasped. "When?"

"The very day you left. Headmistress Sprout seemed to think their idea of a laugh was a bit too bloody for her taste and sent them packing."

"Then it's my fault," she said with a frown. "I got them chucked out of school."

"They got themselves chucked out," he corrected her. "No matter who they'd done that to, it's inexcusable; even Professor Dryden seems disgusted with them, and I have a feeling he's done a fair few Muggle tortures in his sordid past."

Jezabel allowed her legs to dangle over the side of the bed, toes skimming the white area rug. "Are the other Slytherins... terribly cross with me?"

"Maybe the four who were lynching you, and as far as I'm concerned they deserved what they got; nobody messes with my friends." He pretended not to notice the colour returning powerfully in her pale cheeks as he went on. "As for the rest of your old House, I think they were more angry at your attackers for losing them a hundred points."

Her jaw dropped again. "A hundred?!"

END Chapter Thirty-Three