Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: Seeing Pink

Hogwarts Castle was an ancient building. It had stood as a testament to higher education for all of wizardkind for centuries upon centuries, playing host to some of the greatest minds and highest achievers. It held as many mysteries within its sacred walls as any such site would. That was why, when the tiny house-elf told Albus that one of his professors had been killed without warning, he at first thought it was some kind of illusion.

He also thought the way the stones beneath his feet were swaying could be the castle pulling a prank on him.

"No, he isn't," Rose scoffed, eyes wide. "You've seen something wrong, or you've been in the cups."

"Winky hasn't been drinking!" she hissed angrily. "Winky has given it up, no more, no more! Winky knows what she is seeing, miss! The Potions Master is down there, sprawled on the ground and blood all over hisself, and- and then we saw- ooh, it's too awful, don't make Winky think about it anymore!"

Albus swallowed, pulse already quickening. It wasn't in a house-elf's nature to lie about anything; though he knew Kreacher was capable of hedging around the truth now and again, even a senile old elf such as he usually stuck to facts when his master called. Being that every witch and wizard in the castle was Winky's master, she couldn't be lying to them or the magical enchantments that bound her kind would cause her to throw herself into the nearest fireplace.

"Where?"

"In his office, sir," she whispered, scarpering off to the kitchens in a flurry of sobs before either of them could stop her.

"How d'you like that?" Rose straightened, rubbing her cheek with one thumb. "Odd little thing, but... you reckon a word of it's true?"

"I reckon all of it is... or she thinks it is, leastways."

"Should we get a teacher? Sprout, even?"

"Hmm... no, not yet." Pulling a face, he took a hesitant step toward the dungeons. "What if Winky has gone mad? We don't want to stir them up into a whirlwind without any proof."

"Point, there." Even so, she did not join him in his walk. "But Al... what if it is true, and we're about to bump into a murderer or something?"

"We can't not go! If we just go on up to bed and let one of the other students find him in the morning, by the time the teachers get down there, the trail will be stone cold!" He caught his breath for a moment before continuing, "So we'll go down, see if he's really, y'know... and then if he is, we'll go get Longbottom, I should think. He'll come, he'll believe us."

Rose didn't look nearly as convinced. "Or he'll give us the benefit of a doubt, at least."

Their footfalls echoed off the walls as they descended into the dungeons. His palms were sweating again; what would they find? Would they find anything? If they didn't, did it mean the house-elf had been deceived... or that the culprit had decided it prudent to cover their tracks? When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end; something had most definitely happened. All was not right beneath Hogwarts.

"D'you hear...?"

Albus nodded; a slight creak. Dryden's office door was ajar, and an eerie light was seeping from the crack. That seemed like a clue. Albus drew his wand, and taking this as a cue Rose did the same. Slowly, hearts in throats, they approached the door and eased it open.

Albus was not ready to see Dryden's mangled body, red pooling beneath him as he lay on the flagstones. He wasn't ready to see Nearly-Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron, mad, popping expressions in place as they loomed over the scene. But the thing he was least ready for in the world was to see Jezabel Skirrow standing over him, arms crossed over her chest and wand poking out from below her left elbow.

"What...?"

She looked up. "Ahh... there you are, Albus. What kept you?"

He glanced over at Rose, to see what she could make of this, but words were apparently not in high supply for either of them. "Jezabel, er, what's going on?"

A cold, sinister smile blossomed on her lips - one that he would never have expected to envision set in those features had it not appeared there. As he almost knew before she had raised her head, a thick curtain of hair hid her eyes from his, but even still he felt he could see them blazing through it as if by way of some sixth or seventh sense.

"Come on," Rose spoke up. "So... so you found him like this. Did you see anyb-"

"How sweet," she tittered, wandless hand at her mouth. "My friends, willing to believe anything over their own eyes for my sake. No, I'm afraid not."

Albus struggled for another explanation. "Then... were you told, as we were?"

"Hmph." She shook her head. "I knew I should have used a Tongue-Tying Curse on that damned elf. You caught up with her and wrung every ounce of information out of her you could, eh? Eavesdropping little wart."

This painted a very simple, irrefutable picture for Albus, but he refused to believe it. There had to be more, or something had to be a lie. Unluckily, Jezabel spoke aloud his thoughts for him.

"Right about now, you're saying, 'Oh no, this can't be right! Jezabel, she was such a good Gryffindor once she got in! Who cares that her mother was a Dark witch? Who cares that if the Battle of Hogwarts had gone differently, she might be serving Lord Voldemort this very day? The indomitable power of love can squash that lingering Slytherin nastiness right out of her, and then she'll be right as rain!'" A loud, high cackle erupted from her throat, and her head tilted back to allow it to come to full boil. "What easy marks you all were! Once I figured out the Sorting Hat would, in the end, put me wherever I wanted, I just asked it to put me where I could hide in plain sight! I had you all so tightly wound around my finger, didn't I?"

"How?" Rose squeaked. "What- but why would you-"

"To get away from them," she growled, throat constricted with fury. "Not that I fancy your lot, either, but Malfoy, Goyle and Nott? They turn my stomach, pretending to be so Dark and brooding, and all the while they're cowardly, whinging drops of nothing. Gryffindor's ingrained altruism may cause me to retch as well, but at least your House members have moxie."

For the first time since entering the room, Albus forced his eyes to the floor. Wide crimson slashes were ripped right across Dryden's chest and neck, leaving his robes in tatters, and he was far more pale than usual. Odder still were the burning tracks along them; could she really turn around something that had caused her such agony and use it on another living thing? In spite of the gory, disquieting site, however, Albus couldn't help but find it strange that his arms and legs were held so close to his body; had Jezabel been repositioning him after she killed him?

She killed him. It was true, it had to be - and yet his mind would not accept that. Too much had gone on, the year filled with too much of her being so shy, so mindful and determined not to hurt or inconvenience anyone. He'd been in her house, and she in his. Once, just upstairs in the entrance hall, she and she alone had saved him from certain death. His cousin had scrubbed her down in the prefects' bath, and been there when they were caught up in an unexpected duel with their Slytherin peers. The three of them had also been together when they watched Jezabel's mother breathe her last...

Albus had literally been inside her mind, and now he was expected to believe she would willingly murder one of their teachers?

Even so, when he looked up again to see the sneer on her lips, he knew it was her. She didn't look indistinct or transparent, he couldn't feel any magics coming from her - though he didn't know if he could pick up on it if there were. This was Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter standing in front of him. Whether or not she truly was playing to her lineage...

"I haven't got all day," she yawned, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. "Should you like to be killed now, or strangled in your sleep? I believe I could have one of my ghosts drop your entire bed into the lake, and then the giant squid can play with you to his heart's content."

"You're mental," said Rose in low, guttural tones. "You're a m-monster!"

"Am I?" she demanded, wand trained on her throat now. Rose staggered back a step when the Bloody Baron advanced on her, hands outstretched and jaw wide. "In a school where you are persecuted, maligned and belittled at every turn? I'm the one who needs to apologise for growing tired of being NOTHING?!"

Albus's bones felt like jelly. Everything had suddenly gone so wrong, and the world would never be the same if this was the truth. Some part of his heart, perhaps a larger one than he cared to admit, had bound the Slytherin-cum-Gryffindor to itself and could never let go. The most disquieting part was, he knew even if she had become a ruthless killer, that part would continue to hold on for dear life until he destroyed it himself. She was his friend, now and forevermore, come what may.

Even if she wanted to see him dead.

"Do it now," he ordered flatly.

"Al!" Rose hissed, eyes wide and fearful even as salty tears leaked down her cheeks.

"Really?" Jezabel's brow furrowed, though her smile remained in place. "No stay of execution for the martyr? Here and now, quick and easy?"

"Yeah, quick and easy. I wonder if it will be. But do it before I send up red sparks and bring Longbottom and Peele thundering in on us."

Panic began to grip his stomach as she rolled up her sleeves, but he bit down on it; losing his head could cost both of them their lives. Rose, for her own sake, whipped out her wand and shouted, "You touch a hair on his head, and so help me, I will use an Unforgivable Curse on you - because 'unforgivable' is where it'll put you! Completely, utterly beyond redemption!"

"Ooh," she jeered, waving her hands in front of her in a mockery of the fear both he and his cousin were struggling under. "I'm positively aquiver. I'm a year ahead, and far more learned. What can you possibly do against me?"

That is when Albus began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Jezabel asked, eyes narrowing. "Is this some sort of nervous fit?"

"Your nose," he snickered, stepping forward. Her wand snapped up, but she did nothing more as he traced a finger along it beyond going cross-eyed. "I suppose it looks more normal now, but... Merlin, guess I just got used to that, cos now you look silly this way."

"Stop it," she growled. "I don't even know what you're talking about - and get away from my nose!"

"What were you going to do?" he pressed, leaning in and glaring through her oily tresses. "When your surrogate family found out you weren't in Slytherin anymore? They'd have thrown you out on your bum."

He sensed more than saw Rose's puzzled look, but he could only pray Jezabel was more focused on the Weasley family member directly in her face. Luckily, this seemed to be true. "Er... I suspect I'd have moved into my new abode. Inherited a beautiful estate from my dearly departed Death Eater, didn't I?"

"Pah."

"'Pah'?" Now she was getting annoyed, and the wandtip grinding into his chin displayed this perfectly. "Really? You don't agree somehow? I am of age, I can take up residence anywhere I choose!"

"Yes," he spat angrily, "but not in this body. Now get OUT!"

Both girls were looking at him as if he'd had a swig or two of Firewhiskey before their confrontation. Much to his supreme satisfaction, however, he knew one of those reactions was being feigned. "Come again?" Jezabel asked him.

"So clever, but not clever enough." He pressed his advantage. "'Permission is not mine until-' until what, Jezabel? Just fill in the blank, and I'll willingly take whatever you can dish out!"

"Until now!" she screamed into his face. "Stay back, or I'll hex you!"

The room was silent for several seconds. Then Jezabel twitched, and he took the opportunity to shoot both hands out and jerk her hair aside, revealing the eyes she had so determinedly cloaked from the world all her life.

Glowing pink irises burned with indignation.

"You are altogether busted."

"Oh," Rose gasped behind him, horrified and relieved all at once.

"Let go of my hair."

Albus grinned. "Or what?"

"Depulso!"

Rushing wind assaulted his eardrums, and without warning he found he was colliding with one of their late professor's many shelves; to his dismay, at least three jars of various contents broke over his head and shoulders, raining thick liquids and other less-than-savoury items onto his person. Though his skull felt as if it may split open, the pain did not overtake his senses, and he stood again.

"Go ahead," he grunted, pushing a slimy something from his robe's sleeve. "Kill me, if you can. I don't think you will, anyway. Haven't got the stones."

"Oh, no?" she snapped, even as Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington scowled down at him. "We'll see! Av- Avad-"

And past this, she could speak no further. Her free hand clutched at her throat, and her teeth gritted, but not even the first syllable of the other word sprang from her lips. At last, she stopped, panted, and screamed, "STUPEFY!"

Brilliant scarlet filled his vision. Then the dungeon went yet darker, until all was blackness.

o o o

"Come on, Al, this is no time to play up the dramatics!"

Dandelions raced each other. A panther ate all of them. Why couldn't the purple mosquito know how its drinking problem affected the children? The children of the bucket people?

"For the love of Mer- Rennervate!"

Albus was awake, and his cranium was less than happy about it. Groaning, he clawed his way up Professor Dryden's shelves, slipping on the coating of slime the flagstones now bore. "R... Rose?"

"There we go," she laughed tightly, as if she'd been awake for days and had several strong cups of tea to compensate. "Now, let's get you up to the hospital wing, where-"

"What happened to Jezabel?" he demanded, cotton-wrapped tongue refusing to make speech easy for him. "Where'd she go?"

"Er... gone, Al." Rose took in a shuddering breath. "After she knocked you out, I, er... well, I sent my own Stunner at her, and I was rather angry so I think it was rather, er, potent."

He frowned at her even as he clutched at the dampened crown of his head. "You didn't blow a hole through her stomach or something, did you?"

"Don't be thick," she retorted. "Well, it hit her, and blew her back into his desk-" she indicated how askew Dryden's desk was from its usual resting spot "-and put her lights out, true enough. Except then... well, let's just say you had the size and shape of the situation, all right."

Blood was on his palm when he pulled it away, but it wasn't a lot; he'd survive. "Peeves, wasn't it?"

"Yep." Hesitantly, they wove around Dryden's corpse and Rose - possibly against sound reasoning - deposited him in a chair instead of leading him straight to Madam Pomfrey. "She'd scarcely slid to the floor when he came bursting from her head and bowled me onto my jacksie. Ended up with some book lying open on my face. By the time I'd righted myself, all three ghosts and Jezabel had vanished like they were never here."

"Damn it!" he swore, trying to stand only to have Rose force him back down. "Hey, what are-"

"You took a Stunner in the face, Al," she told him gravely, eyes wide. "Is it terribly bright for you to be moving at all right now?"

"Get my schoolbag, then," he panted, forced to admit she was right; he needed to recover some strength before mounting his next harebrained rescue. "I... and my wand, it ended up over there. I don't even remember dropping it..."

When all his things were in his lap, he yanked the yellowed parchment out of his bag and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

"Right," Rose breathed, "that's perfect - if we find one of them, we find them all!"

Except that didn't prove as easy as they'd hoped. Nearly-Headless Nick was in the Gryffindor Common room, which hinted at absolutely no unusual behaviour. Similarly, the Baron was in the Armory, speaking with the Grey Lady (or else just looking at the ancient suits of metal; the map couldn't tell him for certain what they were doing). However, neither Peeves nor Jezabel Skirrow were anywhere on the map.

"Huh," she said from over his shoulder.

"I agree - that doesn't make any sense. How can Peeves not be on the map? He can't leave Hogwarts, can he?"

"Maybe he can." When Albus only looked up at her, a single eyebrow raised, she shrugged. "Well, come on - Peeves isn't a ghost, he's a poltergeist. There's a subtle difference in there somewhere, yeah? What if poltergeists can leave their haunts, and they don't only because it's in their nature to find one place to spread discord and anarchy and stick to it?"

"But someone - or something - is now controlling Peeves," he said, catching up with her line of thinking. "Possibly from down in Hogsmeade, or even farther away. He can control the ghosts in the castle, too, but he can't make them leave."

Rose's voice dropped to a whisper as she leaned closer. "The chimaera. Dryden kept talking to Peele about this - what do they know?"

"Not much, now," Albus said regrettably, glancing over at their former Potions Master. His eyes began to sting as he thought about how the man, however gruff and undiplomatic he could be, had exulted over his performance in his O.W.L. Oh, if only his eyes would narrow sternly at him once again...

Wait.

"Merlin," he breathed, "did you see that?"

Rose blinked. "What? Flaming Doxy droppings, there's not more coming to kill us, are there?!"

"No, he- Dryden's eyes moved!"

Both knelt on the floor, faces inches from the man's. His skin was still cold and clammy, the burning, oozing wounds were beginning to reek with an unholy stench, but Albus had not hallucinated; the man's seemingly-vacant pupils were flicking between their faces.

"He's alive?!" Rose's nose wrinkled. "Even after all this, he's not dead? Cor, how much of a beating do you have to take before you snuff it?!"

"Get Madam Pomfrey," Albus ordered, still too weak to even make it back to the chair. "I'll stay with him. Hurry!"

o o o

By the time Professor Dryden's office had been packed to the brim with Professors Longbottom, Peele and the matron, Albus had stowed the Marauder's Map, rummaged through the contents of his bag and bolted down two Chocolate Frogs, which left his stomach hopping unsteadily but the rest of him feeling decidedly less faint. With no other recourse after this, he cast Episkey and Tergeo on the wounds, hoping to do some nominal good or at least staunch the flow, but they only closed the barest amount. Madam Pomfrey only just stopped his hand as it hovered over the man, unstoppered bottle of dittany from Dryden's stores clutched tightly. She seemed pleased with his knowledge of its use, but told him not to waste such a precious resource before she could apply her own substantial mediwitch prowess.

Rose and Albus waited outside the doorway while they worked, listening to angered shouts and worried gasps. It was quite cold this far below ground level, and when Rose began shivering he drew her into a tight, clutching embrace. Perhaps he also needed to feel the warmth of the living when death lingered so near, also. His shoulder may have been dampened by her eyes, but that didn't matter much.

Finally, Professor Longbottom exited the office and heaved a sigh. "Well."

"Well what?" he asked, Rose pulling away and swiping at her face. "Is he-"

"Fine, I should think," the man told them, even though his eyes spoke of more. "Stopped the bleeding. It was the Full Body-Bind, just as you surmised, Miss Weasley. Good Lord, but that brings back memories." A bleak smile pulled at his lips for a brief second before falling away. "Few days rest, lots of nourishment. Should pull through. Professor Weasley can handle what's left of-"

Rose's jaw slackened. "Sh-should?!"

"Yes. But you must tell us what you saw," he urged. "Who or whatever has done this must have quite an agenda."

"Peeves," Rose chimed in. When she could see the doubt evident in his features, she continued, "It's true! Saw it with our own four eyes - well, Al got Stunned, but he saw it too, before. Nick and the Baron were there, too, but I guess they were just for show or something."

Longbottom's eyebrow hiked upward, and he drew back as he crossed his arms. "For show? I don't understand - do you two know something the staff doesn't?"

Neither fifth-year answered.

"If you do," he continued, as if they had denied everything aloud, "you'd best present your evidence now, while whoever has been doing this - and I should highly doubt it's Miss Dunsmore now that she's in Azkaban - has so recently struck again."

"It could still be Dorika," Albus said heavily. "Acting from outside Hogwarts."

"But - oh, right," Rose said, eyes widening. He knew that to mean she'd remembered Jezabel and Peeves dropping off the face of the map, but she told Longbottom, "and now, nobody'd suspect her, would they? It's the perfect cover!"

"One thing is certain," Longbottom told them, smiling much wider now. "I, for one, no longer count our Potions Master among the suspects. Though a near-deadly attack on onesself might be a brilliant strategem..."

"You could end up actually dying from it," Albus finished for him.

Rose, apparently, wasn't convinced. "I dunno. He might still be caught up in all this, if not the mastermind."

Longbottom considered this for a moment, then placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "All things for me to pass along to the others and the Headmistress. You two, however, should get up to bed."

Albus goggled, and he felt Rose twitch. "Are you serious? After-"

"Yes," he said in a tone that left no room to wonder. "There isn't a thing you can do for anyone at this stage, and I can't risk you poking your nose into our own investigation and causing so much uproar we all miss the real culprit." For a moment, he continued to glare at them suggestively, then his expression softened. "Sorry. You're not wrong about how important this all is, and I don't blame you in the slightest for feeling that drive to be involved. This just... this isn't a game. Even if it were, you're far, far too young to play it."

"I'm very sure Uncle Harry would say just that." Albus was rather proud of the sheer amount of sarcasm dripping from Rose's words.

"Yes, well, 'Uncle Harry' isn't responsible for a school full of fragile young witches and wizards - even if one or two of them aren't so fragile." He winked, then pushed them toward the staircase. "Listen to your elders, just this once? Up to bed."

From the entrance to his office, up the frigid staircase and into the entrance hall they went, silent and defeated. Finally, when they reached the top of the stairs, Rose said, "This is far enough."

"What?" Albus made no move to disguise how bland his tones were.

"For us to talk about what we're hearing without being heard ourselves."

And there, between her thumb and forefinger, was one end of the fleshy-coloured string that could solve all their problems. As they leaned in, Albus's heart trip-hammering, sound drifted from it.

"...chimaera claptrap! Austerus has nearly died, what are we to-"

"Calm down, calm down, Lautitia," Longbottom insisted. "We will speak with the Headmistress about this. If need be, she can recall the exorcist, set him to the job we paid him for."

"I warned you when I saw the ghosts swirling on Hallowe'en," she continued doggedly. "When Peeves dropped the Slytherin boy, when Mr Urran's office - locked office was coated with stinksap! There is more afoot here than the rest of the staff is willing to admit!"

"That may be the case, but there is a procedure to be followed." A deep sigh. "First, we see Dryden here up to the hospital wing. Then, we bring Headmistress Sprout into the loop, because like it or not, this is her school, and she is in charge. Understand?"

Then there was some scuffling, and Rose was yanking the Extendable Ear up into her arms before they took off up the stairs.

"What'd you do that for?" he demanded a few floors up. "We could have found out so much, we-"

"They were going to do what he said, move Dryden," she hissed back as they jogged. "That means opening the door and going up the stairs to find us using a magical object that is technically against the rules, Al!"

"Blast!" he shouted aloud when they neared their dormitory, causing the Fat Lady to snort and wake from her slumber, squinting at him as if he'd called her a child's fingerpainting. "This... everything's gone so awfully, terribly wrong! It's like my worst imaginings come to life!"

"Yeah, and I'm having a grand day out," Rose countered. "Al, come on, let's just go on up to bed, like he told us."

He was sure she couldn't possibly mean that. "No! I'm not going to sleep - how can I?! Jezabel is gone!"

Finally, his cousin seemed to sense how deeply it was affecting him. Breathing heavily from their run, she put one hand on each of his shoulders, leaned down and bumped the top of her head against his. Her voice quavered, and she was quite obviously a hair's breadth from losing it entirely. "I know. And Dryden's doing his best impression of hamburger. But we're totally helpless. Even if we knew where she was, she's off grounds. We've got no way to get to her."

Albus hadn't been praying at all, but his silent plea was answered anyway - for from the portrait hole, a voice neither of them had spent much time thinking about lately gave them their path.

"I know a way."

END Chapter Forty-Seven