Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: The Library

The reason Albus's mother gave for suggesting Jezabel stay in Lily's room was that it was too late to send her home, but he considered eight-thirty early enough for a quick Side-Along to the Skirrow house. No, it was far more likely that she was plotting an insidious scheme that could only come to fruition on Sunday morning, and it would be much easier to put this into effect if she spent the night at Grimmauld Place. He was, of course, entirely correct.

"Oh, drat," she proclaimed across the kitchens as they picked at their eggs and toast. "We're out of wolfsbane again." Her eyes were focused mostly on Jezabel as she said, "I don't suppose you two would care to run some errands with old Mrs Potter?"

"No, we wouldn't," came Albus's prompt reply. If she was going to play games, he was going to make his mother work for her victory.

"Oh, come now," she scoffed, waving a hand. "We can stop in and see Uncle George, he'd like that. I, er... might even let you have a few Sickles to spend in there, if you help me out a bit."

It was a beautiful carrot to dangle inches in front of Albus's face - extra pocket money for very little reason? But he still suspected this had nothing to do with her wanting company and everything to do with their houseguest. "Do you really want to make Jezabel do menial labour? I thought we could play a game of chess after breakfast before she has to-"

"No no, it's okay," said Jezabel in her most polite manner, thoroughly undermining him without knowing. "I would love to help, really, it's the least I could do after tea last night, and breakfast, and the-"

"Splendid, splendid!" Ginny beamed, shooting Albus a "You are incorrigible and unhelpful" look. "Wash up and we'll head out to Diagon Alley for the morning, and then I think we've been invited for lunch over at Ron and Hermione's. Oh, they'll be surprised to see you, Albus, I'm not sure they know you came home for Easter."

"I'd lay odds they do," said Albus's father as he joined them, scratching at his stubble in a dazed manner. "Ron was there when Pickering started insulting my parenting methods in the middle of the lift yesterday."

His wife shook her head before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "What an old grump. I almost regret wasting some of that strudel on him, he acted as if he didn't enjoy it at all."

o o o

Never let it be said that Albus Potter didn't know his family. The two students had scarcely enough time to peer up and down the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley before they were being herded into Madam Malkin's, where his mother began throwing clothes of all shape and colour at Jezabel and refused to hear any of her mingled protests and bubbling gratitude.

"Sorry she's so overbearing," Albus muttered low enough that Ginny wouldn't hear; this was unlikely, because at that moment she was deep in an argument with Madam Malkin over hem length. "Probably best to let this run its course."

"This is terrible," she half-sobbed. "Your mother doesn't have to buy me so much, I- I'll never b-be able to repay-"

"Don't be thick, you don't have to repay her - and I think if you tried, she'd probably hex you. Mum's just that sort."

"But I- I have enough robes, this is far too much!"

He shrugged, staring up at the mannequin posing artistically in the shop window. "Use the spares as curtains?"

The time spent in Uncle George's storefront, and indeed the rest of Diagon Alley, was negligible compared with their clothes shopping. New school robes, dress robes, skirts, trousers, a jumper or two and even a secondhand travelling cloak ("She'll catch her death if she keeps running around barefoot and open to the elements!") grew in their arms to stacks that threatened to overtake them. Albus found himself without an explanation for Jezabel when she began steering them toward the Leaky Cauldron, telling them they'd be heading through onto the non-magical side of London.

"At least I was able to get Rose some new Extendable Ears; hers have been useless for ages."

"That man was your uncle, wasn't he?"

He blinked over at her as the stone archway melted into a solid wall behind them. Her face betrayed some inner conflict. "Er... yeah, why?"

"If you don't mind my asking, why hasn't- er, where- I apologise, that's awfully prying of me, never mind, I shouldn't have br-"

"He lost it in the war," Albus guessed. Her mouth made a tiny movement as if forming the word "oh", though she made no sound. "Helping my dad escape Voldemort, actually. It's quite the tale of daring do, but perhaps I'd better let him tell it; he's the only one who can do it justice."

"And that will have to wait for another day," his mother put in, and Albus inwardly wished she would disappear and stop listening in. "Once we're through in Muggle London, we won't have time for any more shopping before lunch, I'm sure."

"Oh, I saw you arrive here," Jezabel whispered, smiling to herself. "That seems like so long ago, doesn't it?"

"You saw- what? When?"

Her eyes darted toward the stairs as they passed the inn's counter. "You... didn't notice me. That is, I didn't exactly stick around to chat, obviously you wouldn't have noticed. I th-thought maybe you had, I'm s-sorry."

"Was this over the Summer?" That was the most recent instance they both could have been there at the same time.

"Yes. You and your family were shopping for school."

The gear clicked; a dark figure zooming away to the first floor. It was a severely unsettling feeling for him, as if a person were rewriting the history of his life. "That was you? Blimey, I didn't even realise - all I saw was a load of hair flying upstairs, you were moving so fast! Why didn't you say something?"

She looked back at him. "Well, I d-didn't know you then. Or I did, but you didn't know me. Being bothered by a total stranger doesn't normally endear you to them, does it?"

"But you wanted to say something?"

Perhaps he misspoke, as it appeared Jezabel would rather not answer. Still, several seconds later she whispered, "You're such a good, decent sort, and your family looked so nurturing and close-knit, and... I don't know, I was a t-tad jealous. I'm sorry, does that make me a truly deplorable person?"

And Albus was at a loss once again. This revelation that he could have met her nearly a month before he had was quite enough to digest without adding her unnecessary guilt into the equation. How many other times had they passed each other in school, or out in the world? Why hadn't he become aware of her before the train?

The truth was, no matter how he rationalised that she was in a different year and mostly kept to herself, he would never so much as give the time of day to a Slytherin if he could tell they were - probably still wouldn't. That mindset had almost robbed him of what was blossoming into a sound, indispensable companionship. What if this ancient rivalry between Houses was self-perpetuating? The Gryffindors loathed the Slytherins because the Slytherins loathed the Gryffindors, and vice-versa. His Dad had always told he and his siblings that deep down, every witch and wizard has got a heart, but when you're brought up by the upperclassmen to target another group with extreme prejudice, how can the cycle ever be broken?

"Here we are," came the senses-jarring words of his mother. "Francine's Fine Footwear. Can't believe the price of shoes in Diagon Alley, they must be mad."

"Ah." Jezabel stared down at the boots they had lent her for the day. "Yes, er- please, Mrs Potter, you don't have to go to so much trouble; I'm fine, really."

"You can't walk around without any shoes!" she laughed. "I'd let you keep those, but I daresay they're a bit big for you. Besides, it's far better to get you into some new ones, isn't it?"

If Albus could see through her usual thicket of hair, he was sure she would be blushing. "My parents can do that Monday afternoon, Mother's already said she would, so there's no need-"

"Oh, bugger that - you need them now, not tomorrow! Merlin's beard, you could catch pneumonia, and I'm not playing Bulgarian roulette with your health!"

o o o

Despite keeping up an admirable flow of flustered pleas to leave off spending gold on her, the three shoppers left the boutique with four more boxes added to the already-teetering pile in Albus's arms. Jezabel now owned powder-blue trainers, magnificent buckled boots that stretched from heel to knee, and a simple, gleaming pair of Mary Janes, which she was wearing presently. Albus's mother had also somehow convinced him to get a pair of Oxfords for himself, no matter how many times he insisted his old ones were still in fine condition.

After a quick return to Grimmauld Place to deposit their shopping (and for his mother to force Jezabel into taking another bath, which was such a long, noisy affair that Albus was thankful his gender kept him several rooms apart from it), Harry joined the others as they all turned through the darkness and Apparated into the Ronald Weasley family home.

"Wow," breathed Jezabel when Ginny had released her arm, now-visible wide eyes drinking in the towering bookcases that lined the high walls of the cavernous room. Being so used to visiting The Library himself, Albus had hardly given them a thought before he heard her reaction. He snorted.

"Yeah, I know; Aunt Hermione's a real bookworm. She's always got her nose hidden away in one - when she's not writing her own, that is."

"Sakes alive, th-there must be hundreds of them! Thousands!"

"Seven thousand, two hundred and eighty-five, to be precise," came an airy voice from behind them. Jezabel spun around to find Hermione staring over her head at the topmost shelves. "That's also counting the bookcases in my study, though."

"How've you been keeping, 'Mione?" asked Ginny as they exchanged a warm embrace.

"Well enough, well enough. Channing's being a pill about the centaur reservations, it's got everyone in the department calling for his head on a pike - but then that's business, and we have a guest!" When Jezabel continued to stare toward the floor shyly, Hermione turned to Albus and asked, "Well? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh, right," he laughed, thinking privately that he'd heard that particular phrase a lot lately. "Aunt Hermione, Jezabel Skirrow; Jezabel, Hermione Weasley. Sorry, guess I left my manners back at Hogwarts."

"I reckon you never had them to begin with," his mother put in, swatting him on the arm.

Hermione snorted as she shook Jezabel's thin hand in her own. "It is nice to finally meet you after all Rose has told us! You're something of a scholar, yes?"

"Your collection," she replied breathlessly, having missed Albus's aunt's words entirely due to the prospect of such unlimited reading. This seemed to be high among a short list of things that cut straight through Jezabel's timidity around strangers. "It- such voluminous volumes, bountiful bindings! You must tell me: how are they categorised?"

All at once, Albus realised it had been a dire mistake to get the pair of them in the same room. Shrugging, he left them to it and turned to his father. "Funny, aren't th-"

"About your prefect gifts... been up to any mischief? Any interesting results?"

The wistful passion burned in Harry's eyes like a wizarding fire full of Floo powder. "Er... yeah, they've helped me out a couple times."

"Just a couple of times, eh? I shouldn't be getting any Howlers from your teachers, then; suppose I should count my blessings."

"Of course, if I didn't have the Cloak, I might never have saved Jezabel from those Slytherins..."

His father looked back down at him sharply. "How do you mean?"

"Well, er... I was on my way downstairs for a pick-me-up from the kitchens when I heard her screaming." An involuntary shiver passed through his bones. "Don't think I'll ever forget that; it was ghastly. And that's nothing compared with how she looked when I found her."

"Hmm, indeed; Flagratattooing's not at all pleasant." They watched Aunt Hermione pointing to the spines of several dust-coated tomes a few yards away before Harry spoke again. "Do you know if they performed the Cruciatus on her?"

"The Cruciatus? Er... how did that one go again? We just studied it, but I don't..."

For whatever reason, this caused him to break into a genuine grin. "You have no idea how wonderful it is to hear something like that, Al."

"Why?"

He laughed and tousled his son's hair. "It marks progress."

Albus had grown accustomed to his father being obtuse like that now and again. Before he could demand to know what he was talking about, however, the three women rejoined them, still chattering away about the Library's library.

"...love it here, it's like- like Xanadu!"

"I'm glad you approve," Hermione laughed. "And I am glad you could drop in, I've been curious to meet such an oft-discussed witch! Also, this gives me the chance to ask a small favour of you."

"It does?" The accompanying gulp sounded almost painful.

"Perhaps you can help light the proverbial fire under Rose's backside," she said in an undertone as she led them through an arched doorway and down the adjacent corridor. "Well, her marks are still quite satisfactory, mind you, don't misunderstand me... but last year they were ever-so-slightly under par, and I can't help but feel if she would only apply herself properly we may find-"

"Oh, leave the girl be," chuckled Harry. "One 'A' and you start foaming at the mouth."

"I only want the best for my daughter," she replied briskly.

Albus's mother shook her head as they entered the dining room, which was large enough to seat a dozen bodies comfortably, fifteen or sixteen otherwise. An ornate candelabra was lit by magically-powered fairy lights, and several portraits of witches and wizards reading various tomes added interest to the drab-but-welcoming wallpaper. Just before Albus could remark that the food smelled wonderful, a gasp came from somewhere on their right.

"Merlin Ambrosius, she's skinny as a rail!"

With an inward cringe, Albus watched his grandmother throw her arms around Jezabel's helpless shoulders and begin squeezing them to pieces. This seemed like the last thing one should do to a person whom you might believe in danger of starvation, but Albus wasn't sure how to go about correcting someone three times his own age, so he held his tongue. As it turned out, he needn't have worried.

"Molly, ease up," her husband chided from the other side of the room, wand in mid-movement over the table. Albus suspected he had been using magic to lay out the silverware moments prior to their arrival. "Etiquette dictates we not suffocate dinner guests before the first course, at least."

"But we have to get some real nourishment down her before she wastes away to nothing! Come now, perhaps you should start with dessert and work backward, eh?"

"Mum!" Ginny laughed, throwing her own arms around both of them. Albus tried to ignore the discomfort only he could see in his classmate's eyes as she came to be sandwiched between Weasley women. "Hermione didn't mention you and Dad would be-"

"They showed up," Uncle Ron explained as he strode up to them, dusting off an aged bottle of elderflower wine. "Not twenty minutes ago, in point of fact. Might have sent an owl along or something before popping in, though."

"Don't fuss over nothing," Hermione hissed at him.

"Hang on," said Ron slowly, eyes screwing up as he bent down to look more directly at Jezabel (he was quite a bit taller than she). "This'll be the Skirrow girl, won't it? Sorry, I completely forgot she'd be along. Well, we've given those Slytherins something to think about, now, haven't we?"

"I- I'm sorry, sir, how do you mean?" Albus wondered why she was being so formal before he remembered it was Jezabel.

A smug look inched into his face. "Got Travers' little toerag expelled, didn't you? Well, he got himself expelled, I suppose - but the point is they'll have to think twice before they try something like that on poor, unsuspecting first-years! You've struck a blow for the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws of this world, they ought to be giving you a Special Services Award! Speaking of which, has anyone told you about the time Harry and I earned..."

Both Harry and Hermione groaned. Uncle Ron pretended not to notice.

o o o

It was with a guilty conscience that Albus was glad not to be Jezabel during that particular luncheon. The well-meaning adults fired a relentless barrage of questions at her, curious about the House-switching witch whom had so suddenly become a point of contention for so many at Hogwarts, or else water cooler conversation down at the Ministry offices. He also came to admire her for resisting the urge to pound her fists on the table and scream that they ought to leave the interrogation for afters.

Breathing a surreptitious sigh of relief, he followed when she excused herself from the table once the parents and grandparents had produced a bottle of Ogden's, hoping to catch her up. This proved to be easier than he'd thought, as she was squatting just outside the door.

"Jez!" he squeaked, doing an ungainly sort of jig to avoid trodding on her leg.

"Shh!" After a tense moment, she stood and motioned for him to follow her down the cramped hall. "Is there a... a place where we might not be overheard?"

Albus led her to a small room whose original function had been lost to time; it was now used to store Hermione's old manuscripts and the family brooms, including the splinters of an old Cleansweep Eleven his uncle had refused to part with. "There - I don't think they'll be coming straight here after drinks."

"I am sorry, Albus, I am, but I c-couldn't take any more questions, there were so, so many!"

He leaned back against the door jamb. "Don't be. A concussed gnome could have seen you'd had enough, I can't believe how thick they were being! Couldn't they tell they were taking it all a little too far?"

"They were being friendly," she said, examining a broken Snitch. "Perhaps overly so, but it's okay. At least they were genuinely interested, and not just trying to unearth fodder for the rumour mill."

"And I apologise for Mum earlier." Albus's teeth were having a time unclenching. "Honestly, if I had a Sickle to my name I'd have taken you to Francine's myself, but she kept us prisoner in that smelly shop for well over an hour!"

"Yes, but... they're so pretty."

He followed her gaze down to the Mary Janes, shining black in the light from the tiny window set high on the wall. "Yeah. Well, I mean, they all looked good, the ones she ended up buying you - but I can't believe she tried stuffing you into those red heels with the frilly bit on top! Even Elizabeth Larkins would have trouble stomaching those monstrosities!"

"They were rather garish," she snickered, pushing herself up and onto the tabletop to allow her legs to swing over the side. "Exactly the sort of shoes Adora would buy for herself. Those blue trainers would appeal to her, as well - if they came in yellow with pink laces."

"You don't like them?"

"Of course I do!" she insisted vehemently. "They're perfect, b-but... they're far more stylish than anything I'm used to, that's all."

He smiled. "Well, you can't wear them in school, anyway, so you've only got another week to worry about them."

"Really, Albus, when the devil am I going to need dress robes?!" she burst out unexpectedly, causing him to knock over Hugo's old toy broomstick when he started. "Your mother, sh-she spent so much this morning, and it wasn't at all necessary, and- and- and I'm not a charity case, she doesn't have to lavish all that on me!"

"Hey, no arguments, here," he chuckled. "But it's not like you don't deserve to have a few nice things. As I said before, when Mum feels strongly about something it's wisest to stand aside and give her free reign - greater wizards than myself have been levelled for daring to oppose her."

"But I'm fine!" Before she continued, she started massaging her temples with her fingertips, apparently trying to prevent another explosion. "We do have money, you know - not much, I'll grant you, and I scarcely see a penny of it for recreational use, but I've never wanted for food or clothes or anything! Your family doting on me like this, it- I feel like I'm stealing from those less fortunate than us, like I should turn around and give your gifts to children who really need them!"

Albus had to take a second to blink. "Don't take all that on - everybody deserves a few good pairs of shoes! Okay, so perhaps my dear mother went off the deep end today, and I obviously won't think poorly of you if you donate some of those robes to the homeless, but... well, I just don't think you should be so hard on yourself!"

"B-but-"

"The dress robes suit you," he said firmly, folding his arms over his chest. "It'd be a right shame to let those go, charity or no charity. Now come on, let's get back so they can ask you how many times you use the lavatory in any given day."

"Y-you liked my dress robes?"

It was an innocent enough question, but when Albus looked over to answer it he was momentarily thrown by the surge of rouge in her pale cheeks. "Er, y-yeah, they're smart. Reckon if we're ever invited to anything formal, you'll be all set."

With a slight nod, she smiled as she preceded him out of the room. "Thank you."

END Chapter Thirty-Five