Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: A Grave Request

Albus and Hugo paced up and down the hospital wing corridor for two hours, waiting for a prognosis from Madam Pomfrey and the rest of the staff. Indeed, nearly half of the teachers were crowded inside to ponder at this unusual bit of magic, hoping to at least figure out how it worked if not invent a way to reverse the effect. At last, Headmistress Sprout came out to speak with them.

"The good news is young Miss Weasley is fine," she began, mopping her brow with a dirt-stained handkerchief. "The bad news... the monocle won't come off for anything, and we have tried a fair number of countercurses. I'm afraid it's even more stubborn than we realised."

"How can you call that 'fine'?" Hugo burst out, lip trembling. "That's my sister in there, with glass and silver bonded to her face!"

"I am sorry," she replied, frowning down at him. "We're going to get the Ministry cracking on it, researching and formulating Charms and such - might as well, since they can't seem to make any headway with our ghost dilemma. Meanwhile, it isn't causing her any real harm; in fact, it only hurts when we try and remove it, so we think it best to leave it alone for the time being."

"And..." Albus was having a hard time posing this question, as the very idea tied his stomach in knots. "And what about, er..."

Professor Sprout nodded in an understanding way, stowing her hanky. "The only proof we have that Mr Macmillan is within that lens is Mr Logan's and your cousin's word. Beyond that, it's impossible to tell from the outside. Not that we don't believe her," she added quickly.

"So that's it, then?" sobbed Hugo. "Macmillan's just gone, and my sister will be haunted by his image for the rest of her years? A fine bunch of-"

"Careful, Hugo," Albus hissed warningly in his ear. "They're doing all they can, you know."

"Yeah, Huey," echoed James as he, Lily and Jezabel joined them. "What good will swearing at the Headmistress do your sis?"

"Shut up, you prat," Lily spat before laying a gentle hand on Hugo's shoulder. "Any word?"

"Every one means 'no'," he grumbled.

Then the door opened again, and the ocularly-modified Rose joined them. More than anything else, she appeared exhausted, and thoroughly disgruntled besides. She glanced at Sprout, then looked around at her worried family members and friends.

"Do I look more distinguished, at least?"

Albus should have known James would be the one to start laughing first. Soon, Albus and Lily had joined in, and even the Headmistress was forced to hide a chuckle by coughing into her fist. Only Hugo refused to crack a smile.

"That's brilliant!" he growled. "Have a grand old time while my sister might be stuck this way forever - while Ryan Macmillan might never come back! How stupid you all are!"

Rose sighed. "Hugo-"

But he was already running off around the corner, wiping furiously at his eyes. After a moment, she folded her arms, staring down at the floor. "Damn. I was only trying to break the tension..."

o o o

In the days following, the whispers and stares surrounded Rose wherever she went. At first, she pretended to find the increased attentions flattering, waving and flipping her hair gracefully at the onlooking crowds. This admirable attitude deteriorated rapidly, however, and by Thursday morning the whole thing really began to wear on her nerves.

"Five points from Hufflepuff!" she flung at a stunned second-year. "Maybe that'll teach you some manners!"

"Was that necessary?" Albus asked from the corner of his mouth so as not to undermine her authority in front of the recently-punished student.

"I've got enough on my plate with O.W.L.s and an idiot waving frantically in one eye without everybody gawping at me like I'm on display on the zoo!"

Albus found himself surprised at this sudden bit of news. "Waving at you? Really?"

"He's been trying to get my attention ever since he noticed me," she replied wearily. "Yelling and dancing about, plain as day."

"What's he saying?"

Her brow wrinkled. "Well, I don't know, do I? The bloody thing's stuck on my eye, not my ear. If only I could read lips..."

"I still can't get over how Professor Abbott was taking it." He dropped his voice as they walked into the Defence classroom. "We all think it's awful, obviously, but she broke down crying in Transfiguration yesterday!"

"Oh... right, that." Rose frowned uneasily, sliding into her seat. "Al-"

"Good morning, class," Professor Peele called as she entered.

"Good morning, Professor Peele," they chorused.

As she began taking roll, Albus leaned over and whispered, "What were you going to say?"

"Ah, nevermind, I'll tell you later - wouldn't want to get us in trouble for talking in class. I do stand out rather a lot these days, you know."

o o o

When Professor Sinistra handed back the previous evening's star chart, Albus was pleased to see only a few red circles flashing up at him. Jezabel's tutelage was beginning to pay off, and he told her this as they headed down for lunch.

"Think nothing of it," she replied, wafting away his gratitude with her hand. "You would do the same for me if our ages were reversed."

Albus laughed. "Not much use in doing that; we'd both still be sixteen, silly."

"No, we wouldn't. You would then be sevent-"

She fell silent when he turned to stare at her openly, stopping in the middle of the floor. "What? You mean... I thought you weren't of age!"

"Er..."

"That bloke from the Ministry, Pickles or whatever - he said you weren't of age yet, so you should-"

"I wasn't!" she protested. "Not at the time, that is."

"You've had a birthday? When?"

"Ten days ago."

He'd seen that look of guilt before; usually it was on Lily's face when she'd broken one of his toys. Albus leaned back against the wall, trying to stave off the whimper of a wounded puppy that was rising up within him. "But... but why didn't you tell me? I'd have liked to get you something, or at least-"

"That's exactly why," she whispered, hiking up her robes and pointing at the buckled boots she was wearing. "You and your family spent so much on me over Easter, I- I didn't want to give you further reason to do it again so soon."

"Would you stop that? I'm telling you, Mum was just trying to help!" He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "At any rate, that was her. I didn't spend so much as a Knut on you myself, so I ought to be allowed opportunity to get my mate a present - especially on her seventeenth, that's a big one!"

She smiled, as if he were being daft on purpose. "My birthdays have never been much cause for celebration. That is, not in a while. My father used to take me to the park when I was little; he'd buy me an ice cream or something, push me on the swings... he's always so busy at the office that it was a real treat. But..."

"But that changed, didn't it?" He frowned as he watched her in joining him against the wall. "What happened?"

"The magic. It- it's as I told you before, I used to be a much wilder, excitable youth, but when I started making bad things happen, I... withdrew a bit."

"That's putting it mildly." He jumped, slapping a hand over his mouth. "I- I can't believe I just said- that was a horrible-"

"It's a horrible truth is what it is," she laughed. "I told you myself I'm more comfortable alone; I can't do accidental magic on people when there aren't any nearby. It's easier."

"Yeah, I suppose."

An introspective silence settled over them. Albus didn't know what might be swirling in Jezabel's mind, but his own was reconsidering their newfound comradeship. Did he still make her uncomfortable? He knew without doubt that he always had, that she consistently tried to keep him at arm's length, but what if he still did? Would it be kinder to back off, to leave her to her own devices?

Then again, nobody deserved to be alone, and he would genuinely miss her if they parted ways - but did she feel the same? She'd named him as a friend, but did that mean to her what it meant to him? He began to think he'd never know unless he asked, which was a strange thing to demand of a person.

Their shared reverie came to an abrupt end when a sharp voice said, "It's all your fault!"

"What?!" he yelped before registering that they were being addressed by Atticus Malkin and Genevieve Nott, both of whom looked a bit more sickly than Albus remembered. "Oh, it's you."

"Yes, it's us," Genevieve hissed, eyes darting up and down the hallway to make sure there were no other witnesses. "The Hogwarts Pariahs, they call us now, and it's all thanks to this little tattle tale!"

The blood began to pound behind Albus's temples as he glared at her. "You've got a cauldronful of nerve to come anywhere near Jezabel after what you did to her! They should have expelled the both of you, too!"

"We didn't do anything!" Malkin whinged. "All right, so I watched, so what? Last Sunday night, Longbottom had us moving great sacks of dragon dung from Greenhouse Three up to the sixth floor, and I don't even think he had a real reason for making us do-"

"Allmighty Merlin," Albus gasped acrimoniously. "You mean you had to be all smelly? Gracious me, that does trump being pummeled, snatched half-bald and set on f-"

"The point is," Genevieve cut across him, determined to have her moot point heard by the one she deemed responsible for her personal suffering, "we've realised long before now that what started out as good-natured ribbing might have got a bit... out of hand."

"Do you hear yourself?!"

"But we're being shunned everywhere we go! Dryden stopped letting us use his personal stores, and even the first-years look at us like we're refuse, and- and Scorpius won't look at me at all anymore."

For the first time during this confrontation, Albus noticed the Slytherin girl's eyes were quite bloodshot. He wasn't sure if he enjoyed this or not, as it's awful hard to enjoy anyone's misery, no matter how much they've earned it. "Well, that's comeuppance for you, isn't it?"

"It's like spattergroit all over again," she sobbed, clearly struggling not to break down in front of an enemy. "I don't know how much longer I can take this! Why couldn't you just keep your mouth sh-"

"I'm sorry," said Jezabel in a small voice. "I n-never meant to cause so much anguish, this- this isn't what I wanted! Can you f-f-"

"Stop right there," Albus hissed at her, disgusted by what he was hearing. "Don't apologise to them for attacking you! It's about time someone made them take responsibility for the way they treat others!"

Malkin made a helpless sort of gesture. "But this is all just too much - all these punishments, every sodding week, nobody talking to us! We've learned our lesson, why must they keep on flogging away?"

"This lesson was long overdue, you ask me. That's what we're here for, isn't it? To learn how to be decent witches and wizards? Take your lumps like a man and maybe try and remember why you got the detentions in the first place!"

"We got them because she told on us!" Genevieve screamed. "Whatever we - they did to her in that one night, it's nothing compared to what we've had to endure every day since!"

"She didn't blab, you idiot! I did!"

Both Atticus and Genevieve took a step back, mouths agape. "Wh- it was you?" Malkin finally managed.

"That's right! Despite all the horrible things you were doing to her, Jezabel was going to leave it be, and all because she still feels some kind of loyalty to her old House! Now you're screaming at her that she should pay more for what you did to her?! Blame me, or rightly blame yourselves, but leave her alone!" He squared his shoulders. "And if you want to take out your unjustified anger on somebody, take it out on me! Go on, then!"

For a brief moment, there was silence as they all considered the situation. Albus wasn't entirely sure why he'd confessed all to a pair of Slytherins and made himself Jezabel's whipping boy, but it was true; he'd gladly take the mistreatment in her place.

"What's the problem, here?"

"I'll tell you wh-" Albus stopped short when he saw Tranquilius Thomas's eyebrows lift yet higher. "Oh. Sorry for the fuss, Tranky, but these gits-"

"We were only talking!" Malkin snapped.

"No, that doesn't sound guilty at all," Genevieve snarled at him.

"The Head Boy has told all us prefects to watch out for both of you, as well as Tristessa and Goyle," said Tranky mildly, a thoughtful finger at his chin. "I could take House points from Slytherin just for finding you confronting Miss Skirrow again, I'm sure."

"No!" they gasped.

"That's right," said Albus slowly, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I'd forgotten about his start-of-term speech, it was so dull I blanked out everything but the new password. I probably could have docked the points all along, couldn't I?"

"Now just you wait one moment!" Genevieve blustered. "I'm a prefect, too, or had you forgotten that minute detail?!"

But Tranky was already shaking his head. "Doesn't stop us penalising Atticus, here. And you might be stripped of prefect status if you try taking any from Jezabel - frankly, I'm surprised they haven't already done that."

The two Slytherins stood there for a moment, indecisive and frustrated. Finally realising their defeat, Genevieve growled, "Come on, Atticus," grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him along toward the stairs.

"Thanks, Tranks," Albus breathed when they had moved out of sight. "Sorted those wankers, that did."

"Yes, thank you," Jezabel echoed, though Albus could tell she wasn't as righteously pleased to see the pair of Slytherins put in their place.

"Sure, sure." He started to move off before stopping to look at Jezabel again. "I've noticed we can all see your face more clearly these days. Makes for a nice change."

"Er..." But she could apparently think of no easy response to this, so she simply flashed him a nervous smile and nodded.

"I agree with him, you know," said Albus once Thomas had made his way upstairs and they had resumed their journey to the Great Hall. "It's easier to talk to you when I don't have to penetrate that wall of hair."

"Why do you think I hid myself behind it to begin with?" Jezabel cast a sidelong glance at him. "I reckoned you knew that one already."

"Oh..." An involuntary snicker escaped him. "Blimey, can't believe I didn't, now I stop and think about it. Or maybe I did, but didn't realise it was intentional?"

"Definitely." She shivered slightly. "Everyone seeing my emotions on display... it's difficult to bear, sometimes."

"They can't see all of them in your face."

She shrugged as they entered the Great Hall. "Makes it easier for them, at least. But I could tell you're more at ease when my hair is out of my eyes, so I've been putting it up more often."

"I am? How can you tell?"

For the first time in his memory, a bemused smile crept into her features. "Really, Albus - that expression of yours right after Rose dragged me through the prefects' bath? Inscrutable, you're not."

o o o

"Mr Potter? Might I have a word?"

That was a somewhat scary phrase. He hadn't the faintest idea why Professor Weasley should hold him after class; had he failed the essay on goblin property taxes? But Rose was already waving from the door, and he found himself facing a concerned-looking aunt.

"It's about the monocle," she whispered, as if afraid the empty classroom were recording their conversation. "You told us you received it from Andromeda Tonks for your birthday in January, correct?"

"Er, yeah. She didn't do it on purpose, did she? I can't believe-"

"No, no," she laughed breathily. "That is to say, I should hope not! Thing of it is, Albus... I've spoken with her recently, and she denied having ever sent you a present at all."

"What?!"

"I wonder if you might still have the card, or perhaps the box? Anything would help."

He thought hard for a moment. "Well... I'm sure I binned the card, but the box, yeah, of course. D'you want me to bring it to you?"

"Or Professor Longbottom," she nodded. "Whichever's easiest."

As he slowly made his way toward his next class, Albus thought this over. Before he had merely thought Teddy's grandmother had picked it up in a secondhand shop, not knowing it carried with it a bizarre curse. If she hadn't even sent it, who had? Where had they found it - down Knockturn Alley? Or had they cursed it themselves?

Rose had an alternate theory when he caught her up on Professor Weasley's request in back of the Charms classroom.

"Couldn't I be the latest victim?"

"Victim... of our poltergeist puppetmaster?" He waved his wand again at the four multicoloured balls he was supposed to be making juggle themselves, but only one bounced off the desk; the others remained adamantly still. "Maybe, but this has nothing to do with ghosts - an owl brought the stupid monocle, didn't it?"

"That's true." He glanced over to see his cousin's hair was between her teeth again. "Urgh, why does everything have to be so complicated? And Merlin's pants, will you STOP THAT?!"

"What, what?"

"What indeed!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "They may be able to hear that shout in Hogsmeade!"

"It's Ryan," she whispered so only Albus and their teacher could hear. "He's, well... he keeps shaking his bum at me to get my attention! I've tried keeping that eye squeezed shut, but that gives me a migraine after a while, and I do-"

"Let me see if I have this right," Albus began, straining to keep his voice level. "Ryan Macmillan is... mooning you? Right now, in the middle of class?"

"I know! You have no idea how difficult it's been to concentrate on school with him acting like a loon in half my field of vision!"

"Very well, then," the professor consoled her, also doing his best not to burst into giggles. "Try and soldier on, my dear."

"Well?" said Albus under his breath once Flitwick had moved off. "The show in your monocle... are you enjoying it a touch?"

Even though seven juggling balls were attacking his face, he thought he noticed her ears begin to glow.

o o o

"I had no idea it was getting so, er... is 'serious' the word exactly? It's kind of..."

"Comical?" Albus offered as his sister poured herself a glass of orange juice the next morning. "Or perhaps 'wacky' is the proper term."

"Ryan must be getting quite bored in there," Lily mused, idly watching the post owls begin to swirl in through the windows, juice halfway to her mouth. "Trapped within a cursed object without food or water? What if he-"

"Peele said the enchantment is probably holding him in a- a- oh, what was it? Something about being animated..."

"A waking state of suspended animation," said Jezabel as she and Rose joined them at the House table. "Most unusual, actually. It might be interesting if not for... well."

Rose scowled. "If it were happening to Travers or Tristessa, instead?" Jezabel made an uncomfortable face, but nodded. "Yeah. Wish I could shove this off on them, at least for a few hours. It's tough having to suffer through his antics day in, day out."

Albus was preparing a sympathetic utterance when James plopped himself down between Rose and Lily. "Heard about what our Beater's been doing in your monocle lately," he began in a highly-inappropriate, conversational fashion. "Has it grown any... worse?"

"How do you mean?" asked Lily.

"Well, has he stripped off all his clothes and began strutting around like a chicken, for example?"

Rose's arm was just raising the milk jug to throw at James's head when an "OUCH!" distracted her. "Huh?"

"What's that?" asked James, eager to avoid being concussed by dairy products.

"Er..." It seemed Jezabel was no more prepared to have an envelope dropped on her head than they were to witness it. "I don't know."

"That's a Ministry seal, that is!" Aiden McLaggen exclaimed from nearby. "What could they want?"

"I don't know," she repeated in fearful tones. "What might I have done? Or... do you think the public fund has run out, and they're going to tell me I can't stay on unless-"

"Don't get yourself all worked up prematurely," snapped Rose. "Open the bloody thing and get it over with!"

"Rose!" hissed Lily.

"Well, he's doing what I believe to be a bastardisation of 'The Hustle' right now-" she thumbed at her left eye "- and being forced to watch something like that is horrendous enough to put anyone on edge, trust me!"

"Nevermind her," soothed Lily. "Go on, let's see what they want."

The five of them (six, including McLaggen) held their collective breaths as Jezabel broke the wax seal, gulped, and withdrew a single sheaf of official parchment. Then the others watched her eyes dart along the lines of text so quickly they were almost a blur, and grew worried when her brow furrowed and she took to staring blankly at the bottom of the page.

"What is it?" Albus coaxed. "What's happened now?"

"Oh, this is barking," said James, snatching the letter from her limp fingers. "I'll read it for the rest of-"

"No, you won't!" Rose growled, doing the same to him. "I at least have an ounce of tact, unlike you!"

"Since when?" Albus jibed automatically. He had already braced himself for her reflexive kick under the table, as well.

"I'll have you know 'tact' is my middle name," James insisted. "I went down to the Ministry and had it changed last month!"

"Oh, give it up, you prat," Lily sighed.

"No, honest! Just because I live in his old room doesn't mean I fancy the name 'Sirius', so I says to myself, 'What's the one word that truly summarises James P-'"

"Holy hippogriffs."

They all turned to Rose, whose right eye was wide with disbelief. When she made no effort to elaborate, Lily prompted, "Are they really?"

"This is a request for an audience, you lot - a deathbed audience."

"What?!" Lily squeaked, unsure of having heard her correctly.

"In Azkaban."

No one spoke for several seconds, trying their best to process this one-two punch of news. "Azkaban?" said Albus. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack. In fact, I suspect Jezzy might be having one right about now; I know I would be."

"But... but that's mental," said James, smiling in a hopeful way. "Come off it, what's it really say? There's no- what criminal on earth would send for our little Miss Skirrow here in their final hours?"

Rose opened her mouth, but it was Jezabel herself who answered. "Bellatrix Lestrange, that's who."

END Chapter Thirty-Seven