Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: Mentacles

"Mr Peele, you had damn well better start talking."

The Auror glanced around at the two cousins, the Death Eater's corpse, the unconscious girl he was responsible for, and the Healer that was making sure her vitals were stable. Frowning deeply at this turn of events, he took several deep, steadying breaths and said, "What d-do you want to know?"

"Well," Albus growled, "why our friend started to light up like a Christmas tree for no apparent reason seems a likely place to start!"

"Your guess is as good as mine! That and the fainting, if they're related or not, are a complete mystery to me!"

"But you did know something else." Rose walked over to the bed, staring down into the wasted sack of bones that had once been the Dark Lord's strong right hand. She swallowed hard, fighting to keep from letting everything overwhelm her. "This Lestrange bat... she was Jezabel's mother, wasn't she? You knew all along."

Several seconds passed before Matthias answered, and when he did he refused to look any of them in the eye. "I did. And I was sworn never to tell, not a soul, but... as she's told you herself, I see no point in keeping my silence, now."

Albus shook his head distractedly. "How? How could she bear to have a child in prison, and- and how did Jezabel come to live with those awful people?"

"It was all arranged, and I'll say no more than that," he said firmly. "I'm still in no position to reveal more information to anyone, much less underage students."

Rose fired up at once. "Y'know, everybody places so much importance on the fact that we're still wet behind the ears, yet from where I'm standing the adults of this wide wizarding world aren't any cleverer than we are!"

Matthias sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, and Albus thought the somewhat condescending air he maintained around Albus and his peers seemed to fade. "You know, if it were up to me - which it isn't - I'd probably just make everything public knowledge and have done with it. But that's not how witches and wizards like Bellatrix Lestrange work, is it? Secrets and cover-ups are the tools of their trade."

"Let me take a stab at this." Albus craned his neck to better view what the Healer was doing to Jezabel. His brain had been filling in the blanks ever since Bellatrix confirmed his initial unpleasant theory. "Someone arranged to have a child with her, either a husband on the outside or another inmate or some other bloke entirely. Of course, the father has to be someone who couldn't keep his child, since she was dumped on a family of dyed-in-the-wool Muggles."

Their escort said nothing.

"She grows up knowing nothing about it... and they probably didn't know anything, either. Or if they did, they kept it a secret. Then, Headmistress McGonagall shows up to invite her to Hogwarts, and their whole world is thrown into chaos."

"She wasn't a Muggle-born," gasped Rose, glancing back at Albus. "If this Lestrange cow was her mum, that means she can't have been - a Death Eater wouldn't dare have a baby with any Muggle!"

"Yep." More to himself, Albus muttered, "He wasn't seeing things - he knew."

"But this is brilliant! The Slytherins gave her so much grief, and... and all along, her mother was one of the Darkest witches of all time! Oh, I can just see their faces when they hear ab-"

"NO!" shouted both Peele and Albus at the same time. With a brief glance at the younger, the elder continued, "What you have found out is n-not to leave this room! Can you imagine the wizarding community's reaction when they find out that certifiably wretched Death Eater had a d-daughter? One who's been allowed to go to school with their own children?"

The scoff from Rose was not unexpected by Albus. "So? She's different from her mum as night from day, far as I can see. Been nothing but kind to us from the off."

"They won't care," said Albus bitterly, eyes fixed on the prone figure on the floor. "Remember what Dad said? What happened to Hagrid, to Teddy's father?"

"Oh..." But Rose shook her head. "That was ages ago, though - before Voldemort took the Ministry, before the Battle Of Hogwarts! People are more open-minded these days!"

"Not that open-minded," said Mr Peele. "You might think I'm a pretty poor caseworker, but I know Jezabel's had a lot of trouble making friends in school - this year being a welcome step in the right direction," he added, flashing them a weary smile. "But I'm sure if the public were to discover her parentage, some paranoid old fool would demand a psychological evaluation, and try and put a Magical Law Enforcement wizard in her dormitory, and who knows what other measures to make her remaining school days a living nightmare. It might have been easier if they'd all known from the start, but it's too late for that."

Rose shook her head hopelessly. "So what do we do now?"

"That depends. Resarcius, do you have any ideas?"

"Not a one," the Healer sighed. "Whatever's going on in this poor girl's head, it's a fairly uncommon ailment. Beyond my scope. We ought to get her to St Mungo's, I'm sure someone down there can sort her."

"Or to Hogwarts," Albus suggested. "All the teachers there - if it's some obscure curse-"

"Might not be a bad idea," Peele admitted, wiping his shining forehead with a handkerchief. "Yes, let's try that first. Oh, I knew something like this would happen, but she's of age, and I was sworn to-"

"Yeah, yeah," Rose muttered as she and Albus helped the Healer lift Jezabel's limp body. "Keep telling yourself that."

o o o

It amazed Albus that the story of their day trip to the most notorious wizarding prison in the world had not quickly become the stuff of rumours within Hogwarts Castle. Of course, the entire school was well aware that Jezabel Skirrow had come back from Hogsmeade unconscious and that they could not wake her, but few gave it much thought; she was so often being treated in such a despicable manner that it seemed like business as usual. Those who knew the full story were grateful for that small mercy.

Madam Pomfrey used every method of waking an injured student she had at her disposal (and the list was extensive), but it quickly became obvious that this was no mere concussion or anemia at work, and she yielded to the experts in the area of charms and curses. Professors Peele, Flitwick and Dryden spent the greater part of that day and well into the night chanting and circling Jezabel's bed, wands swirling to and fro as they attempted to divine the secrets of this enchantment. It wasn't until after quite a sleepless night that Albus, Rose and Professor Longbottom were summoned to the hospital wing during their Sunday breakfast.

"As her closest friends and Head of House," said Matthias (Albus saw he was holding his wife's hand), "I thought it appropriate to call you here."

"Fine, fine." Albus only wished Longbottom wouldn't say this through gritted teeth, but he knew his earlier warnings appeared to have been more than justified. "What news?"

"Yes," began Professor Dryden, index fingers placed over his mouth and touching the underside of his crooked nose. "Unfortunately, what we're dealing with here is something akin to Mentacles."

Both Longbottom and Rose groaned. Albus watched their reactions for a moment before saying, "Sorry, but... what's that?"

"Mentacles," Longbottom began heavily, "is a blanket term given to any number of... mind traps, if you will. They work in many different ways, varying with the designer's whims, but they all essentially create a puzzle of sorts within the victim's brain that will only release if it is solved. Hasn't been a reported case in decades - the popularity waned after Nigmus Cyrillano managed to put one on himself and never got back out. See, the best witches and wizards the world over have attempted to break Mentacles in ways other than solving the riddle, but if the caster was at all worth their salt..."

"What, what?"

"If you try to remove the enchantment in an unnatural way," said Professor Peele carefully, "it either won't work, or... you may end up doing more harm than good. Permanent, irreversible harm, if you see what we mean."

"I think I can," sighed Albus, moving closer to the foot of the bed where Jezabel lay, pale and lifeless. "Messing around with somebody's head like that sounds like a bad idea."

"There is one thing we can do," said Dryden in a low voice, looking pointedly at the ceiling. "It is risky, and everyone has been insisting I stop bringing it up, but-"

"Why haven't you, then?" demanded Flitwick. "It's outrageous, we can't risk trifling!"

"What is it?" asked Longbottom, curious as he was wary.

"Legillimency."

"That's enough!" both Peeles insisted in unison. The wife continued, "You'll not be floating these crackpot theories about when it comes to the safety of this child! Honestly, a shaky discipline like astral injection in a sensitive matter such as this?!"

Dryden frowned nastily at both of them. "We have already established that if she does not solve it herself within two days, her faculties may start to deteriorate from prolonged exposure to the negativity of such a spell. But if someone were to attempt to aid her in solving-"

"They might very well destroy her mind in the process!" Flitwick squeaked.

"I thought Legillimency only allowed someone to read the surface of someone's mind," said Rose weakly. "Are you saying there's more to it?"

Dryden smirked, obviously pleased that one of his students was quick enough to keep up with the conversation. "It's a vastly undeveloped and neglected branch of the discipline, but yes, there is much more to Legillimency than fortune telling. Dream-Dropping, for instance, can be a gratifying pastime, especially when one is residing in a musty old boarding house full of-"

"Enough, Austerus," said Professor Peele. "It won't be so very easy, not when dealing with Mentacles - especially not such an unusual case as this."

"Why is it so unusual?" asked Longbottom. "From what I've heard, our favourite Death Eater placed the spell with her final breath, it can't be all that complex."

"Well..."

They all turned to stare at Matthias. When he noticed they were waiting for him to continue, he said, "If I may be so bold, I believe she activated a curse already firmly in place in Jezabel's body. I couldn't say how it got there, perhaps set in place long before by her or a fellow student, but-"

"That would be in line with our findings," muttered Dryden. "It is so pervasive and precise that I found it hard to believe a dying witch could cook this up in her final moments - and without a wand! Madam Lestrange's prowess may be legendary, but that's unheard of!"

"So this, er, Legillimency..." All eyes now went to Albus, but his were focused solely on his Potions Master. "You can use it to place yourself inside their mind?"

"Yes," he confirmed, sounding almost annoyed that he hadn't grasped this yet. "If you put enough power behind it, and with a few potions to grease the proverbial wheels, your spectral being can become entirely immersed - not so unlike using a Pensieve. It is inadvisable in most cases, as it leaves your physical body completely unprotected, and if you don't return to it after more than twelve hours, well..."

When he drew his finger across his throat, Rose whimpered.

Albus nodded, jaw set as his gaze returned to the bed they were gathered around. Even as he watched, Jezabel's eyelids twitched, as if she'd been pricked unexpectedly. "I'll do it."

"WHAT?!" shouted several voices at once. Eventually, the din settled enough that Longbottom's voice rose to the forefront. "...be impaled by your mother if I let that happen, I'm sure! Really, Mr Potter, how do you expect-"

"The gesture is meaningless, anyway," said Matthias. "Courageous and sharp though this boy may be, the likelihood of him mastering Legillimency in twenty-four hours is quite slim!"

"He needn't," Dryden countered. Albus suspected he was enjoying pushing this long-shot idea, excited to test his own limits and laugh in their faces. "There have been several cases of experienced wizards acting as a superconductor for thought patterns; the young man need only learn the basics."

"I should think you'd rather do it yourself," said Longbottom in disbelief. "Why involve the boy at all?"

"Bellatrix said we'd have to do it." When Matthias stiffened, Albus knew he'd hit on something brilliant, and his resolve strengthened. "Remember, Rose? All that talk about 'she'll need a strong bond to get out', and that we'd have to wake her up? She meant we were supposed to help her solve her brain puzzle!"

"Potter!" Longbottom snapped as Rose nodded dismally. "Do use your common sense! What do you imagine a fifth-year can possibly accomplish that a seasoned wizard like Dryden can't?!"

"Well, I managed to convince a battered, disillusioned sixth-year not to abandon her education," he said venomously, suddenly quite angry. Didn't they realise a girl was slowly dying right in front of them? "It's better than any of you could scrape, isn't it?!"

"Enough!" shouted Professor Peele. "All this shouting isn't going to solve anything!"

"You're shouting, too, dear," her husband said under his breath. When she glared daggers at him, he returned his attention to the others. "And, er, it s-seemed to be Miss Lestrange's dying wish that Mr Potter and Miss Weasley help their friend recover from this, this... predicament."

"A predicament she caused in the first place!" said Professor Flitwick, hopping angrily and wagging his finger. "How can we trust that all three of them won't end up dying once they get tangled in the Mentacles?!"

"I've just the failsafe charm for that." Dryden, again, relished the opportunity to deflate their winning arguments with his knowledge of spellwork. "But one of them must stay behind. For it, I will but need two hairs; they should preferably be long and rather clean."

"Oh, please," sighed Professor Peele. "That old trick never works."

"Perhaps you've just been doing it wrong, Lautitia," he insisted as he walked up behind Rose, reached out and yanked a few hairs directly from her scalp.

"OUCH! Bloody hell, that hurts, you f-"

"Temper, temper," he warned, eyes flashing dangerously. "I am still your professor, and I won't hesitate to hand you a month of detentions if you go too far. Now, if there are no further objections, I say we begin immediately; time is at a premium, after all."

o o o

Liquid.

It was the first impression that came to Albus when his eyes opened. Why was he sinking? Didn't he know how to swim? Of course, his father had taught him; quite a good swimmer, his father. But his arms wouldn't move. What was happening?

Heat.

It was the first impression that came to Albus when his eyes opened. Why was it so stifling in here? Every breath set his lungs on fire, and sweat poured down his face in rivulets. He ought to open a window - but were there any windows?

Caught.

It was the first impression that came to Albus when his eyes opened. How long had he been stuck here? Much more important was the fact that he could not move. There was nothing to see in front of him, only darkness - though the pattern on the ceiling resembled the shapes of Chocolate Frog cards. Where was he?

Minutes passed, hours. Nothing was happening. Experimentally, he tried to will himself away from the spot - he should be able to do that in an astral state, shouldn't he? Then he heard an ominous sound approaching him. Was it help? No, no it sounded dangerous, he instinctively knew he could not let it catch him - but how to escape? Struggling did not help, nor sheer determination.

Then the humongous mandibles were snapping inches from his face, and he screamed, the attacker's head was the spine of an enormous book, he braced himself for-

Heat.

It was the first impression that came to Albus when his eyes opened. The second was déjà vu. How many times had he done this before? Every breath set his lungs on fire, and sweat poured down his face in rivulets. The sun stabbed into his eyes, his retinas screamed out in pain, and he rolled onto his stomach to avoid staring directly into it.

Sand. Where on earth-? But he wasn't on earth. He was in the ether, on the plane of dreams. As Albus rose to his feet, he became aware that he was wearing a gossamer robe of the palest green. His hands, arms and feet were bare, and quite bronze compared with what he was used to seeing in the mirror. Only the strand around his finger seemed familiar; good, it had worked. Now to begin his quest.

The determination alone would not be enough. As far as his eyes could see, there was nothing but desert - no mountains, no oasis, not a single cactus in sight. Apparently it was noon, because the sun was directly overhead. Which way was which? Where to start?

Then he spotted a flicker. Glad for any sign of life, he set off toward it immediately, tripping over the dunes in his haste to reach what could be nothing but a mirage. As he drew closer, he thought he recognised the movements; animals. Many of them. What was he to do once he got there?

This thought seemed to quicken his pace; before he knew it, he was soaring low over the ground, wind whipping at his lightweight garments, and in seconds he had arrived at the edge of the scene. Landing deftly as if from his own broomstick, he slowly approached.

Wildebeest. A herd of well over a dozen, grazing in a patch of desert grass. Some tossed their heads magnificently, some ate, some lay ready for a nap. It was beautiful; Albus had only seen animals in their natural habitat through the books his parents bought him, and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch one. But their peace was soon disturbed without his help.

They noticed before he did. The heads of the dozing creatures raised, looking behind him and to the right, and the others soon joined in watching. When Albus turned to investigate, he gasped.

It was the most grotesque monster he'd ever seen; as he backed toward the herd, the sky clouded over and plunged the scene into a grey semi-darkness. What was it? An elk? A hyena? No, an ox, perhaps; it was certainly of that size. Whatever it was, those long, leathery bat wings did not belong on its enormous body.

The eyes glowed red as it stalked toward them, paralysing his prey. Was it magic? No, only instinct; the wildebeest all seemed to sense that if they bolted, it would devour them first. Many pawed the ground, making angry noises at the predator. Albus knew he did not want this creature to get them.

"What sort of puzzle is this?" he asked aloud, mostly to himself. "Do I have to kill this- this thing? Protect the other animals? What am I doing here?"

He had no more time to think. When he turned back to the beast, he saw it was circling them - and at the same moment, a heavy weight on his arms registered without warning. He spared a glance down and was amazed to see he'd suddenly acquired a round shield and a fine sword with a wide blade. Fighting seemed to be the idea.

"Yaargh!" he cried as he hurtled toward his foe, slashing the air wildly in the hopes that he could strike a blow in the initial confusion that might grant him an advantage throughout the rest of the battle. But the moment the beast spotted him, it tried to leap out of the way, and-

SQUELCH.

It was an awful sound to hear, his weapon piercing the hide of the monstrosity. Forged steel sank into the flank, all the way to the hilt.

It bellowed. It shuddered and moaned. Albus began to back away, too appalled at this whole chain of events to try and recover his sword. Then, just when he was about to turn away and be sick, the beast gazed directly into his eyes. It was crying. Could animals cry?

"What the- hey!"

Now it was fleeing. Stunned, he noticed a forest where there had been none before, and the beast took shelter inside. Several birds flew from its depths.

He turned to the herd of wildebeest, wondering if they would now give him some directions for his next task, but they were gone, as well. Where? Not into the forest, he would have seen them. What's more, the patch of grass they had been grazing on had disappeared without trace.

"This is mental."

With no recourse left but to enter the forest, Albus hefted his shield and began picking his way through thick trees and brush, silently hoping a centaur or demented automobile wasn't going to descend upon him. After several metres, he noticed the trail of blood; he had wounded the beast, after all. It was foolishness, but he had nothing better to do whilst in Jezabel's head.

"Hello? Is anyone out there?" No answer. "Am I supposed to be finding the Fountain Of Fair Fortune or something?" No answer. Albus banged his shield loudly against a nearby trunk. "Damn it, I'm trying to solve a mystery, here - how about a clue?!"

A loud grunt was his response. Leaping over the last few tree roots, he found a small clearing where the abomination had decided to lick its wounds. Hesitantly, he approached, but it roared at him.

"Easy, now," he breathed, holding his hands toward it, palms out. "That's right. Sorry about that nasty barb I stuck you with. Mind if I take it out?" When the creature made no notice of whether or not he had spoken, he reached for the sword, made sure he had a firm grip, gritted his teeth, and slid it out.

His eardrums felt like they were going to rupture from the agonised roars. After several moments, it quieted, and took to grunting and panting from the effort of bearing the pain Albus had inflicted.

"That's better, isn't it?" he sighed, tossing the sword aside on the grass. "Now... I'm trying to help a friend of mine. She's around here somewhere. Can you take me to her?"

For all the creature responded, he might as well have been belching the alphabet. Albus asked it several more questions, but it only tossed its horned, furry head and looked at him with those large eyes. What would it take? Was he following the wrong lead?

Albus then spotted a change in the creature's eyes; they had been different ever since he entered the clearing, but he had failed to notice at first. They were now a deep dun colour, not at all red as when it was stalking its prey. A sick feeling of remorse welled up within him as he whispered, "You're not a killer at all, are you?" The creature cocked its head to one side, still breathing in a troubled manner. "Of course not; you never did attack anything. I only saw you as vicious because your size and appearance are so intimidating..."

He slumped against the beast's side, absentmindedly stroking its tangled, zig-zagging mane. Its eyes drew half-closed, sighing contentedly. "Well, whatever you are, I only wish you could help me get out of here. Or take me to Jezabel. You can't do either of those things, though, I'm s-"

At the sound of Jezabel's name, the creature jerked to its feet, unsteady from loss of blood and pain. "Whoa!" Albus said, rising with it. "What's the problem?" Before he had time to object, he was astride the creature's back, and they were thundering through the forest, branches and leaves whipping at his face. Minutes passed, and they broke free of the branches, climbing into the sky on the animal's wings. The air was cooler now that the sun was not tormenting them, and Albus had just enough time to begin to enjoy their ride before it was over, and he was being deposited in another, larger clearing.

"What's this thing?" he asked as he stared up at the high stone archway. "The way home?" When the beast only nuzzled him (which made him shiver; it was still quite large with sharp teeth), he snorted and said, "Thanks, but I'm not going anywhere until I help my friend. You sure you don't know where Jezabel is?" No response. "Great. Well... I guess if you want to, you can go; thanks for everything, though."

But it made no move to leave. Albus began petting it again, but before he could come up with an alternate plan, a voice behind him said, "That being shall only lead you astray."

He turned to find himself beholding what could only be described as a goddess. Her own robes held the faintest golden tint, and her fair hair fanned out behind her on an intangible breeze, sandaled feet inches above the grass. Perfectly formed, ruby-red lips said, "You are trespassing. Go now, and do not trouble yourself about this place. All is as it should be."

"Are you... no. Are you Jezabel?" he asked. The woman only continued to smile at him. "But you look so... so different. What's going on, where did this animal come from?"

"Do not trouble yourself with its plight," she replied serenely. "I will remove it from this plane, for it has no more right here than yourself."

"Remove it? As in... as in kill it? But you can't, that's not-"

"Stand aside and I shall end its suffering," she said pleasantly, as if trying to convince a toddler that milk was indeed good for strong, healthy bones. Her hands began to glow faintly. "Please. It will feel no pain."

"No."

The woman's perfect brow furrowed. "Your actions confuse me. Why would you wish to keep a thing such as this alive, especially when its wounds are mortal?"

"It's got the right to decide that for itself," he said stubbornly. "Anyway, I think I kind of like it; might be unusual, different than anything I've ever seen, but that doesn't make it bad."

"This is your final chance, and I shall not ask again," she said quietly, smile replaced by a sober look of concern. The entirety of her arms were now radiating power. "Do not place yourself between the judge and the judged. Stand aside."

"I'm sorry," he said, raising the shield that suddenly felt very pitiful compared with this deity. "I can't."

The glow faded. "Then shall you take it with you?"

"What?"

The woman landed in front of him, and the feeling that she was a goddess only rose as she neared. "If you leave it here, I shall dispose of it. If you take it with you, I will not be held responsible for any damage it may do to your world. What is your decision?"

Albus thought hard. Even if it did get out of hand, surely Hagrid or one of the other professors could tame it, right? Either way, he couldn't leave it to a certain end. "It's coming with me. But first I have to find-"

"Very well."

With a brilliant flash of light, she was gone, and he and the beast were alone before the stone archway.

"That was something else," he gusted. "What now, er... what should I call you, anyway?" But the name came to him unbidden, as if he'd known all along what he would name another pet when he got one. "There is that word the Lestrange woman used to create this world, and I found you here... can I call you Evelyne? You like that name?"

The creature nuzzled him again, and this time he did not shudder. "All right, then," he laughed. "So, Evelyne, want to help me find Jezabel?"

"You already have."

He blinked down at it. "I have? I mean- wait, you can talk?! How long have you been- that is-"

"We should be going," it continued, tossing its mane toward the archway. "This world is going to fall apart now that the puzzle has been solved, and you may be trapped in here if you dawdle."

"Through here?" he gusted, eyes still darting between the archway and his suddenly-vocal companion. "Is it really the way out? It doesn't look like anything's on the other s-"

"There isn't time."

Before he knew it, he was again being bucked onto Evelyne's back. "Whoa!" He had just enough time to clamp his hands onto its horns before it began charging toward the archway. They were halfway across the clearing when he noticed.

"What does that say?"

"Come again?"

"Above it... those strange letters, I can't read them!"

The creature laughed, and for the first time, he realised it was not male, as he'd been expecting. "It says, 'The Origin Of Webs Is Not Always The Beginning'."

"Oh." Albus nodded nervously, laying flat against the beast's back. Then he sat up again. "Wait! If that's all it says, how do we know it's really the-!"

END Chapter Thirty-Nine