Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: Injury And Inquiry

"Mount your brooms!"

It did little to quell the fears of the Gryffindor Quidditch team that nearly every single student and staff member had turned out to watch the deciding match of the season; both teams were unnervingly close in points, and it was anybody's game. Though Ravenclaw's Chasers weren't quite the well-oiled machine of the Gryffindor team, Gryffindor were at a distinct disadvantage: one missing Beater, replaced by his less-than-capable chum, Puerilis Logan. He was the only student who hadn't managed to maim his own team members during Olivia's disastrous emergency tryouts that kept Madam Pomfrey busy for hours.

"Ready?"

Madam Chang's question felt loaded to Albus on this outing. Of course they weren't ready - they were short a player, and everyone would have felt more secure playing with just Aiden McLaggen holding a Beater's bat. His sweaty hands slipped a bit on the handle of the old Firebolt as he said a silent prayer to whomever might be listening that the Bludger would avoid Logan altogether.

"One, two-"

Too late now. The match had begun.

"Go, Albus!" several Gryffindors screamed, which made his face burn. "Give 'em hell, James!" and "Send Moran crying to his mummy!" were among the other cheers and jeers. This might have buoyed his spirits considerably if not for the equal shouts of "Gryffindors are gits!" and "Accidental Albus is a joke!"

And then there was Joseph Moran. Olivia had insisted he learn all he could about his opposite number, convinced it would give him an edge, but the longer he tried to listen to his sister gush about how "amazing" the boy was during breakfast, the more he felt drawn to stab himself in the temples. Still, no one had ever spoken a disparaging word against Moran, and that put him on edge. He would have to be in top form today.

"Welcome to the grand finale!" bellowed Martin Finnigan heartily across the stands. "That's right, it's the lions versus the eagles in a winner-take-all spectacle that will be talked about for centuries! In the Seeking position, we have the formidable seasoned veteran Joseph Moran squaring off against fan favourite and newcomer Albus Potter, whom rumour has it aided our Defence professor in ridding the school of the ghost attacks!"

"Why is he talking about that?" Albus muttered to himself as he began circling the pitch, eyes sharp and combing the ground for the telling glint. Then, without warning, he felt a sharp pain as something collided with his shoulder.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!" yelped Logan, frowning apologetically. "I- I was trying to dodge Tate, he was-"

"Nevermind," Albus growled, rubbing his arm. "Just get back out there and let me do my job!"

"-little traffic jam with Albus and Logan, there," Finnigan's commentary informed the crowd. "Logan, as many of you know, is sitting in for team regular Ryan Macmillan, whom has been stuck in a magical - oops! James intercepted Aubrey's pass there a moment ago, and now it's Moore passing to Wood, Wood to- NO! YES! That is, Wood fooled Lahey, and Gryffindor have got themselves on the board early!"

As the crowd roared in his ears, he nodded politely to Tranquilius Thomas when he soared overheard.

"How are you and Ouida getting along these days?" Albus laughed conversationally, but Tranky's reply was cut off by a sudden surge of cheers.

"Ladies and gents, that was one amazingly gymnastic move Wendelyne Moore pulled off there, never seen anything like it! Can a body bend like that without breaking?"

Though Albus had to admit he was curious as to just what feat Wendelyne had managed, he forced himself to remain focused on the task at hand. It's too bad he couldn't stay that way for long, however, because as Martin was saying, "James Potter with the Quaffle, and he's on fire, no one can-", the world faded away...

A figure with thick, flowing black hair dressed in an evening gown of purest pink silk was standing atop a stone dais at the end of a long hallway. Should he call out to her? She had to be warned, because the pack of rabid wildebeest were right behind him. He ran forward, cupping his hands to his lips, but he was distracted when he saw every one of his fingers was now a carrot. Then a Chocolate Frog perched itself atop his shoulder and asked, "Why aren't you wearing your monocle? It's all the rage in Azkaban."

Suddenly, his face was dripping wet. "No, I don't have time to take a shower," he said impatiently. "She has to know about the wildebeest!"

"Wake up, you!" shouted a woman's voice. Who was it, and why was she saying weird things? Then she said, "Aguamenti!" and another splash of water hit him full in the face. Albus sat up too fast, and his head throbbed.

"Wh-what's- hey, where-?"

"The game is still going on," said Madam Chang, wiping the water she had conjured to revive him free with a handkerchief. "Can you stand?"

"Oh, I... I think so, maybe..."

"Oop! All right, take it slow, now - allow me."

The dense fog that had been slowly receding since the second blast of water vanished instantly when he realised one of Madam Chang's arms was around his back, and that the other hand was pulling at his own. Suddenly that breezy final weekend in May felt a lot warmer.

"Er, ah- w-where? How, that is, I- m-my broom-"

"I'm sorry," she frowned down at him, and whatever news she had to give him felt like it couldn't possibly be so bad with her beautiful lips that close. "Your broom is cracked, you won't be able to play on it. Have you got a spare, or has one of the other Gryffindors?"

"Cr-CRACKED?!" he shouted, chest welling up with dread as he cast his eyes around for it. There it was, lying several yards away, and he could definitely see it went off at an angle somewhere around the middle. He'd been mistaken about how bad the news was. "No, not - not my dad's Firebolt! What am I going to do?!"

TWEET!

"The referee has called for a time out," said Finnigan as the other Gryffindors descended to form a circle around Albus and Madam Chang. "Yes, seems Albus is on his feet again, but there must be another complication! And now that we have a moment to relax, let's tally up the scores for the league this..."

"What's the problem, squirt?" panted James, cleaning the droplets of sweat from his glasses. "We're trying to make a comeback up there, you know!"

"Comeback?" Albus asked. "How... how bad is it?"

"Ninety-twenty," said Olivia, spitting into the grass inches from Logan's shoe. "No thanks to the worst Beater ever to climb onto a broomstick."

"I'm sorry, guys!" Logan bumbled, dropping his broom on accident; it knocked McLaggen in the knee, and he glared at the other Beater. "I'm not used to all the pressure of gametime, it's only my first real match, you know!"

Their captain did not seem to accept this excuse. "But you've been demolishing your own teammates! When you're not hitting Bludgers straight into Potter, here, you're missing the other team's shots and letting Weasley take one in the wrist!"

"You did this to me?" Albus breathed, rounding on the accused. "You're the reason I've been grounded, that my dad's broom is a shambles?!"

"And how am I supposed to catch the Quaffle with one hand?!" Rose added nastily. "You're a fine piece of work, Logan, you really are!"

"The point is," said Wendelyne tiredly before Logan could sputter another apology, "how is Albus going to play if he can't fly?"

"Take my broom," said James for the second time in their lives. "I'll grab a school broom to play on, or-"

"Can't we fix it?" insisted Albus, not at all keen for their star Chaser to putter along on an ancient Nimbus Two-Thousand-One. "Some Spellotape, or-"

"No time," said Madam Chang. "I'm not letting you go up on a broom we're not sure will hold itself together."

"Oi, you lot!"

Albus could only truly speak for himself, but he had a feeling the rest of the team was equally shocked to see Monica Grey racing across the pitch, brown ringlets bouncing in the breeze and wand hand conspicuously over her shoulder. "Hey! Hey, Madam Chang!"

"What's this about, Monica?" she asked once the diminutive girl had arrived by their huddle. "You shouldn't be on the field during-"

"Albus Potter's broom is broken, isn't it? He can use mine!"

"I- I can?" he stammered. "Why? Crap, I mean- thank you, thank you so much, but I don't understand. Why help us?"

She leaned in so only he and the referee could hear, close-set eyes narrowing. "It's that obnoxious Belvina - ooh, she gets my mad up! I only suggested one of us could lend you a broom, and she started shouting and cursing at me, calling me the most awful names! She's always doing things like that, and - well, I am sick to death of it, and if lending you my broom will twist her knickers, then that's just what I'm going to do!"

Despite the strained situation they found themselves in, Albus had to laugh. That was the entire reason? But what he said was, "In that case, it's my duty to help you make that cow's head explode!"

As she flashed him a darkly satisfied grin, he saw it - a gleaming Nimbus Two-Thousand-Thirty flying over the edge of the stands like the cavalry coming to bail them out of a bloody battle. Apparently Monica had already Summoned it before coming to discuss it with the Gryffindors.

"Try not to get mine broken, too," she breathed as Albus caught it. Then, after glancing over her shoulder at where Belvina was sitting in the stands, visibly jumping up and down with rage, she gave Albus a showy peck on the cheek. "Good luck!"

"Er, ah, I- y-yeah!"

"When you're done panting and carrying on," said Wood through her teeth as the Hufflepuff returned to the stands, "let's thank our lucky stars we've all got brooms and get back up in the air, shall we?"

"Hang on, Al," said James, and before he could protest, he'd exchanged brooms. "And this your last chance for a trade, so you'd better take me up on it this time, all right? Our Seeker needs the better broom."

"Fine!" Olivia answered for him. "We're ready, Madam Chang!"

With great care, Albus mounted the Firebolt The Third and felt it vibrating beneath him, as if eager to show its new rider all it was capable of. Very soon, it had that chance.

The moment time was called in, Albus felt the entire world stand still as he cut through the air at blinding speed, eyes watering and hair feeling as if it would rip from his scalp. How had they managed to coax this much speed from a racing broom? His heart thumped wildly, and he felt himself slipping backward for a moment before he redoubled his grip on the smooth handle.

"Back to business, then, with an unexpected leg up from the Hufflepuff Seeker!" said Finnigan from his spot in the stands. "Heavens to Betsy, will you get a load of her teammate, Belvina Hitchens? Goodness, that was a rosette hurtling down at Grey - she is not at all pleased! But wait - it's James Potter on Monica's Nimbus, and he's already readjusted to the difference in speed and balance! This is the stuff Quidditch stars are made of! Moore passes to James, he drops it down to Wood, now to James - IT'S IN! Gryffindor clawing their way to a comeback as it's ninety-thirty here at Hogwarts!"

It was perfectly still in midair halfway across the pitch: the Golden Snitch. And Joseph Moran was closer to it than he was, but looking in the wrong direction. Would he ever know it was there? But the very moment Albus poured on a burst of speed, angling directly for the tiny, glittering ball, his opponent saw him coming.

"Hang on, is- is it- yes, it appears Albus sees something! Is it the Snitch?"

What started as a race to the Snitch instantly became a game of chicken. The Snitch slowly drew closer as Moran's face expanded at an alarming rate; if they both kept at it, they would crash, the prize trapped between their mingled, mangled bodies. What should he do?

"Merlin's pants, they're going to fly straight down each other's throats!"

Then, when there were only a few scant yards left and Albus was stretching out his hand, he saw something that made his heart leap, something he wasn't expecting - Moran swerved. What was he playing at? But it was unimportant; the minuscule delay in his approach cost Ravenclaw the day.

"Has he- has he got- YES! Albus has the Snitch! Faith and begorrah, they've beaten Ravenclaw back and bagged the Cup!"

The whistle still echoed in his ears when Madam Chang shouted, "GRYFFINDOR WINS!"

The following minutes did not seem real to Albus, but like a vivid remembrance of the best movie he'd ever seen. He was being hoisted into the air and flown around the pitch, then shaking hands with Headmistress Sprout, then Wendelyne and Rose were smothering him, then Professor Longbottom was pounding him on the back so hard he lost his breath, then his Quidditch robes were being torn apart by Kayla Sylvanus and Tanith Moon, then he was atop people's shoulders again, and before he became more acutely aware of what was going on, he was laughing with his team members on their way up to the castle.

"...really have to thank Monica for that, her broom isn't half bad," James was telling the others.

"You, Al," laughed Rose, arm crooked lazily around his neck. "Never would have believed you'd run straight at Moran like that! Were you trying to drive your forehead through his?"

Albus puffed himself up proudly. "I was going for the gold, Rosie. Knew Moran would chicken out, anyway; his looks are too important to jeopardise on a single Quidditch game, after all."

"Don't act like you did it all on your own," Olivia chided. "Logan shares a bit of the glory, too."

"What? Logan?" Albus turned to stare at the temporary Beater, who only looked sheepish.

"That Bludger of his really came in handy at the exact right moment," said Wendelyne airily. "To think one player could both almost ruin the day and save it, all in the same match."

"Oh, is that why Moran swerved? Huh, I wondered about that..."

Rose elbowed him hard. "Didn't even notice an incoming Bludger? That's twice, then."

"Oi, I was trying to concentrate on something important! The Snitch could have gone to either of us, I had to bear down and give it everything I had!"

"And it worked!" crowed McLaggen. "We won the Quidditch Cup, we've done it!"

"Rose - Rose Weasley?"

They all looked up to see Barty coming toward them through the entrance hall. Automatically, Rose called out, "Yeah?"

"There you are," he wheezed, fanning himself with his hat. "Sorry to stamp on your stunning victory - congratulations, by the way - but I'm to deliver a message that you and Jezabel Skirrow are to proceed forthwith to classroom nine, and that it is quite important."

Albus glanced over at her, but she seemed utterly nonplussed. "Really?"

"Yes. I've already informed Miss Skirrow, by the way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've spotted a group of second years attempting to ignite a Basic Blaze Box. I say, you there!"

"Guess I'd better see about it," sighed Rose wearily, shouldering her own Nimbus. "Barty couldn't have scraped together one or two details for me, could he? I'll join you guys in the common room afterward."

"See you, then."

But as soon as Rose left and his teammates fell to discussing the highlights of the game, Albus's curiosity got the better of him. What was this about? Probably nothing truly important - exaggerating the importance of his position was a pastime of Barty's. It was none of his business, anyway. Then an alarming thought fell into his head, and he found he could not shake it once he'd had it - what if it were the spectre master setting up an ambush? The likelihood was low, but in the end he decided he would err on the side of caution.

It was strange to be skulking along behind Rose, trying not to let her hear his footsteps. Why couldn't he have had the cloak with him? Maybe there was no place to stow it inside his broken Firebolt, but he could have hidden it under his robes... alas, no time to worry about it at the moment. Before he knew it, they were standing outside the unused classroom nine, and he was listening at the keyhole as Rose said hello to Jezabel. Should he really be doing this? It was too late, now.

"Cor, this is so annoying," Rose was saying. "They could at least not keep us waiting if they don't give us any idea what we're doing here!"

"Mmm." They were quiet for a moment before Jezabel said, "So... is Albus all right?"

"What? Oh, yeah, he's fine. The Bludger didn't even hit him, really - just the broom. It's the ground that hit him."

"Yes," she giggled, but Albus could tell that comment did little to allay her fears. "It looked like a bad spill, I wondered if he'd need to go back to the hospital wing yet again."

"Jezabel, what are your intentions with my cousin?"

Another pause in the conversation. "Come again? Your cousin Barty, or-"

"You know who I mean," said Rose in a voice dripping with conspiracy, and Albus was suddenly under a very strong impression that the smartest thing he could do at the moment would be to storm in there and slap his hand over Rose's mouth. Second on that list was to flee the scene, so he at least wouldn't have to bear witness to the rest of this line of interrogation. "Albus. What are you after, exactly?"

"I- what? Sorry," she said earnestly, "but I'm really not sure what you're asking."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not cross with you or whatever," Rose laughed. "It's just... well, I'm not sure what's going on in that head of yours sometimes."

"Neither am I. For example, now, because you're confusing me."

"Do you... like him?"

Albus was now visited by a silly notion to check around for a reporter from The Quibbler scratching away at what would be a record-selling gossip column. Was Rose serious? Moreover, did she really feel this was an appropriate thing to ask anyone, much less Jezabel? After this, her next birthday present was going to be even less exciting than the rosebud socks, if he bought her one at all.

"Like him? Of course! He's sweet, and generous, and- but surely you like him also, don't you?"

"WHAT?! Oh." Rose laughed nervously. "Well, yeah, as a friend."

"Yes, obviously. You two have always been inseparable. I think it's beautiful that some families can be that way."

"Stop trying to change the subject," snapped Rose. "The way you look at him all the time, and how much you cried when Dorika almost manured him to death. He's got under your skin, hasn't he?"

The silence that followed this was a lot thicker than the first two, and Albus was sure his gulp rang through the hallway. What was she going to say? Did he want her to say anything at all? Then, before he had decided, she spoke.

"Er... under my..."

"A-ha! I knew it, I knew it all along!"

"Knew wh-what? What are you-"

"You fancy him!"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

"No, you can't deny it now, it's plain as the mysterious nosejob on your face! You've been crushing on him ever since the beginning of the year, haven't you?"

Albus decided he was actually going to take things from Rose on her next birthday.

"Rose Weasley, I- how can you be- where is all this coming from?" she squeaked. "I mean, why are you assailing me? Do you know what that sounds like?"

"Do you know what you sound like? Let me tell you: a lovesick puppy! Come on, just be honest!"

"I w-won't! I won't because you're... you're saying untrue things!"

"Then you're saying you're not in love with him?"

"Rose, please, have I done something to offend you? Is this some kind of- of joke, or-"

"Out with it, come on, you'll feel better!"

"STOP IT!" Al blinked at the forcefulness in her voice. Where did that come from? Then again, Rose had gone too far long before the moment when Jezabel snapped, and though he was far from pleased to be hearing all this Albus had to resist an urge to clap for her. "Even if I d-did fancy Albus, I certainly wouldn't tell you after all this! You... you're accusing me of it as if I ought to be punished! Do you really hate me that much?!"

Stronger than the urge to clap was the urge to die, right there on the spot. If hearing Wendelyne, Kayla and Tanith discuss how attractive they found him was embarrassing, hearing one best friend ask the other if she was head over heels for him was genuinely mortifying. What was Rose playing at?

"I... Jezabel-"

"I'm sorry," she said, though her tones were still harsher than usual. "I meant what I said, but... but I didn't intend to shout at you."

"No, I'm sorry," she sighed. "Really, I am, I went too far. Merlin, I think I needed a few more lumps of tact in my tea this morning."

"I should think my feelings about Albus, whatever they are, would be between myself and Albus."

"And you're not wrong. I just... I don't know, I want to-"

"You want to protect him." And just like that, her voice was back to normal, all trace of anger gone. "Rose, I- I know that, I've seen how you are. It's important to you to see to Albus's well-being, I understand - and I think that's laudable. You're a good friend, but... you were taunting me."

"No, I wasn't!" Another pause. "Okay, I was. I owe you a Butterbeer or two, don't I?"

Jezabel giggled, and when Rose joined her he could tell they were trying to break the formidable piles of tension in the room. "If that's how you settle your debts, then I accept."

"You know, Albus, we could conjure up some popcorn - a box of candy, perhaps?"

It was the kind of thing that should be able to turn a man to stone according to some obscure Greek legend. As it was, Albus felt petrified enough as he slowly turned to see Matthias Peele's haggard face inches from his own. When the Auror spoke again, his voice was as soft as it had been before.

"Afternoon. Enjoying the show?"

"M-Mr Peele!" he whispered, sweating as profusely as he had been during the match. "Wh-what-"

"Ordinarily, it might be kind of funny to tell your friends in there you've been snooping," he murmured, "but this really doesn't seem the time, so I'll mete out a courtesy to you this once. Please try not to make eavesdropping into a habit."

"Of c-course not, sir," he agreed hastily, privately thinking it was sound advice.

"Good." He rose to his feet, and Albus did the same. "Anyway, I suppose they're just going to tell you whatever I'm going to tell them, so if you want to follow me in, you may."

"Oh, Mr Peele," said Jezabel when they entered. "How is Mrs Peele, any news or- Albus? What's going on?"

"Al, I thought you went up to the common room," said Rose, a hint of suspicion in her tone.

"Yes, well, I ran into him in the hallway and asked him to join us," the man said truthfully, if scarcely so. "Thought I might make the conversations shorter."

As Albus walked over to where Jezabel and Rose were perched on schooldesks, determinedly avoiding their eyes, he noticed the room seemed awfully familiar. As he joined them, it hit him. "We've been in here before, haven't we?"

"Yes, I think you're right," said Jezabel. "At the start of Winter Term. Though all these unoccupied classrooms look so very alike, it would be difficult to say for sure."

"So, Mr Peele," began Rose. "What is it we're doing in here?"

"Yes," he sighed, removing his travelling cloak and hanging it over the back of yet another chair. "Well, we are actually here for a pair of reasons, and though they are unrelated, it seemed easier to get it all out of the way in one sitting. But more will be coming, and we'll get down to brass tacks then."

"More?"

On cue, the door opened again, and to their full and complete bewilderment none other than the Minister for Magic walked in, followed closely by Professor Longbottom, Scorpius Malfoy, his father, Draco, another tall, elderly man with very little hair leaning heavily on a cane, Rose and Albus's grandfather Arthur, and-

"RYAN!" shouted Rose, jumping down from her desk and throwing her arms around the boy much as if he were returning from the war front. "Holy hippogriffs, I can't believe it's you!"

"Whoa, whoa, ease off!" he wheezed, straw-coloured hair falling into his eyes as ever it did. "A bloke might start getting ideas if you squinch him this tight!"

"Skiving off classes for weeks at a time," chided Albus, patting him on the back as Rose finally let him out of her deathgrip. "Ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"Yeah, well, you're right," he sighed, grinning at both of them. "When I caught Logan going through your stuff, I really should have started putting it back straight away, but, er... well, I thought I might see what the monocle looked like on me first. You know what they say about killing the cat and all."

"So it was Logan going through my trunk," said Albus. "And we were all ready to honour him as a Quidditch hero."

Ryan blinked. "A what?!"

"This is all so very touching," wheezed the gaunt old man, especially toward Minister Shacklebolt, "and I am pleased this boy is reunited with his companions, but when a man reaches my age, his time becomes very precious. Do get on with it."

"On with what, exactly?" said Rose, directing her comment to Mr Peele rather than demand the Minister himself explain anything. "I mean, you said there were two things-"

"I did," he affirmed as the Minister withdrew a scroll from within his robes. "The first of these, obviously, is the solving of the 'monocle mystery', as they've been calling it around the office. Since we needed to bring Mr Macmillan back to the castle, and you two were already here, it seemed prudent to hold the meeting in an empty classroom. The second is the reason I've come along, as I am Miss Skirrow's case worker."

"Already, I don't like the sound of this," whispered Jezabel, inching behind Albus the tiniest bit.

"What about Jezabel?" asked Rose.

"Well," answered the Minister in his deep, booming voice, "it is customary to have all named recipients present when reading a will. The late Bellatrix Lestrange did not leave her daughter with nothing."

END Chapter Forty-Three