Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: The Chimaera Of Judgement

Nearly the size of the Great Hall, if only half the height, Albus, Rose, Caspian and Jezabel found themselves walking into a room full of strange, antiquated weapons and armor, and the odd tapestry rolled up and stashed atop a heap of trophies here and there. Silver, bronze and iron glinted at them from all corners of the well-lit chamber. At the back of this, sitting on a battered, ornate chair that could once have been a throne, sat-

"MALKIN?!" Rose blurted.

"Welcome to my humble home away from home" said Atticus Malkin, chapped lips already twisted into a grin of dark pleasure. Peeves hung in the air by his shoulder, mean little face expressionless. "It's intriguing, all the things here. Must be the castoffs from the Armory, what they thought wasn't worth displaying. Ever since our dear poltergeist found it for me, I've made this my sanctuary, war room, and all around clubhouse."

None of them could find the words - any words, much less appropriate ones. Malkin prompted, "Surprised?"

"More like... underwhelmed," Rose continued, aghast. Albus could tell she'd almost dropped her wand, but then her grip redoubled on it. "You've been doing all this? Running us ragged, dropping and suffocating students, turning the whole bloody castle on its ear? Are you taking the piss?!"

"Don't act all that blown away," he grunted, lazily swinging a leg from the arm of the chair. "If it'd been an obvious personage like, say, the Headmistress, someone might have noticed who was pulling the strings."

She glowered at him. "She was your first victim, wasn't she? You drove Peeves to-"

"Hah!" he burst out. "It would have been brilliant, yes, but that he did all on his own; pure accident. Tickles me all the more. It was rather an inspiration, however. There was so much I could do... so much..."

As he spoke, it seemed every ghost within the castle converged on their location; Peeves had already been there, but now they were joined by the four House ghosts, each one hovering menacingly near his seat of power. Even Moaning Myrtle showed up to pout at them, arms folded in defiance. Malkin paid them no mind, as if they were gnats unworthy of his notice - or a part of him that drew no attention, he was so very used to their presence.

Albus spared a look over at Caspian, wondering if he was still going to try the Disarming Spell, but his bunkmate was beside himself; not that it mattered. Malkin was apparently so convinced they were at his mercy that he hadn't even twitched toward his own wand.

Equally depressing was the sight of Jezabel's wholly resigned features. Albus now knew she'd recognised Malkin's voice through the wall before the rest of them, having spent five-and-a-half years in the same House with him. Why she hadn't spoken up before he could only hazard a guess, but his guess would be that she was so dismayed to learn his identity that she couldn't find her voice. He knew he couldn't.

"What do you think of my menagerie?" the boy asked them, gesturing grandly at the ghosts. "Quite good company, once you get used to them; though they more or less will have no remembrance of being here. Better than listening to Scorpius whinge about his father, or Genevieve whinge about Scorpius. The best sort of friends, in my opinion: they do whatever you tell them, then float away as if you were perfect strangers when you're done with them. It's a shame real people aren't like that."

"You sad, deranged little-"

"Temper, temper," Malkin said, eyes flashing at Caspian. "The less rudeness you show, the longer I might play with my food before I eat it."

While Albus tried to decide what to make of that, he saw a ghost zooming toward Malkin, a wand in its hand. A quick glance told him the action had cost Caspian his weapon.

"Thank you, Binns," the boy snorted as the wand dropped into his outstretched hand. As they watched this, more ghostly hands appeared, snatching Albus's own wand away before he could redouble his grip. His only defence, gone! Rose, however, was alerted by now; when Myrtle's hands grasped at her, she rolled to one side, aimed for the enemy, and let fly.

"Confringo!"

The Blasting Curse struck the topmost part of the ruined throne, missing him by mere inches as it eradicated that and the wall behind. When his head raised again, he was not angry or panicked. He did, however, smile and say, "Once is enough."

Albus felt sure he would be sick as he watched Myrtle float into Rose's body. For a moment, they were superimposed on each other, a blurry mass of living Gryffindor and departed Ravenclaw. Then, there was only Rose with pink irises, striding dutifully toward her new master.

"No," he managed, voice quaking as his hands curled into fists. "Stop it."

"Mine, now," Malkin told him gleefully - though it never reached his eyes. They were as empty and lacking of warmth as before. "To do with as I wish. I could make her march straight into the Forbidden Forest and mock the first centaur she sees... that would be satisfying..."

"Let her go."

It only served to egg him on. He took Rose's wand from her outstretched hand, then patted her on the head. "Far more effective than the Imperius, and without that nasty side-effect of the Ministry's Improper Use office knowing my every move. Lots of options. Watch, and be entertained!"

And Albus did watch, heart in his throat, as Rose first did a cartwheel, then punched herself in the face, then leapt about the entire room, chattering like a chimpanzee. Only the looming threat of what might happen to the rest of them - or Rose - kept him from rushing the poor excuse for a wizard.

"All right," Albus managed, hot tears stinging the corners of his eyes and obstructing his vision. "You've had a laugh. Now let her go."

"Not yet." Malkin turned to him, crossing his legs and holding his chin between thumb and forefinger. "There's something I've always wondered; everyone in the castle has now and again, I'm sure. Now's probably my only opportunity."

Albus's teeth were clenched so tightly he was sure whatever he said would come out sounding primal, but he managed to reply, "Go on, then."

Without warning, Atticus Malkin dropped his stolen wands into the chair behind him, striding across the room with surprising grace and fluidity. Over his shoulder, Albus noticed Peeves settling into the seat, heading off any addle-brained recovery attempt. Their tormentor drew right up to him, hand settling over his own chest as he said, "You and the Rosette there... how close are you?"

"Very," Albus said easily.

"How would you describe... your relationship?"

And for some reason, even though he had meant to tell Atticus to get bent, he found himself saying, "We're more like siblings than cousins."

When Malkin smiled, it came together in his head, and the results wasn't to his liking. The Slytherin had managed to amass more than just the power to control ghosts. He shot a furtive glance at both Caspian and Jezabel, but both were slack-jawed, too frightened and amazed at all of this to help him. "Then you aren't... in love with Rose?"

"I do love Rose," he answered instantly, trying to cover his mouth with his hands - although all in the room could still hear every word. The rest of his body was his to do with as he pleased, but he could not stop his lips and mouth from forming his innermost thoughts. "I can't imagine living without her. She's as close to me as Lily."

"Lily? Ahh, that mousy prat of a Potter, that's right." The boy snorted, walked around Albus once, then stopped in front of him again, brushing a lank lock of brown hair behind his ear. "Who is the most important person in your life?"

"I don't know." Albus was surprised the answer came out the way it did; he'd expected his true feelings, a secret even from himself, to come surging out of his mouth.

Evidently, this was not enough for Malkin. "You don't? Who would be at the top of your list?"

"My family and friends."

"Such a slippery answer from someone who's being compelled to tell me the truth," Atticus spat.

"How are you doing this?" Caspian asked quickly, before another question could be asked. "We're not even set to learn nonverbal spells until next year, and this is some pretty impressive casting - especially without words, or a wand."

"Gryffindor's top student speaks at last!" Malkin crowed. "Want to know the secret of my success, do you? It's really quite simple, once you've put the jigsaw pieces in place, but... I do believe I'd like to start with the beginning and work forward. Never know how you might try to turn the tables if I divulge the choicest bits too soon.

"Everyone has always written me off," he continued, stalking back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. Albus tried to ignore both him and the way Rose was tying knots in her own hair some five metres away, but he still heard every loathsome sentence. "Even my family, from the moment I was born. They tolerated me, gave me the things I need, taught me wrong from right - or their version of it, as it were. But I heard their true feelings, whispered in rooms they thought locked or soundproofed. Atticus Malkin is of no importance! An ancillary family member! He'll never come to be more than a maintenance wizard! Nothing spectacular about him! Pah. They never saw a drop of potential in me - not because there wasn't any, but because I wasn't the right size or shape... or the right bloodline."

"You're a pureblood wizard," Albus gusted impatiently - glad to find he was still able to speak his mind. "Don't forcefeed us that load of bubotuber pus about bloodlines."

"Oh, but I'm not," he laughed bitterly. "You see, my mother had a certain, shall we say... predilection for Muggles. Rather die than bring one into the family properly, mind you, she wasn't entirely mental - but now and again, she'd sneak off into Muggle London, find a bar, and chat a Muggle bloke up. And here I am." He paused to smile ruefully at them, sweeping his arms wide. "It's an open secret, they all know; Mother and Father insist they're my biological parents, but they're not fooling anyone in the slightest. I'm a Mudblood, and therefore I can never be anything other than mud.

"But not so, says I! There are ways to manufacture notoriety for yourself. Why, just look at the late, great Dark Lord Voldemort - he was a Mudblood, too, and he went on to bring about the deaths of legions!"

"Yes, there's something to strive for," Caspian said fiercely, obviously tiring of his self-indulgent monologue. "Lay waste to a few countries; they'll adore you then!"

"Adoration is overrated," he replied with a shrug. "All I want is power and the freedom to use it. And with the chimaera, I've found both."

"The what?" Albus tried his best not to let on how desperately he wanted to know what he meant, but it showed anyway. "So it is a chimaera."

Malkin smirked. "Yeah, of course. Don't tax that feeble Gryffindor brain of yours, Albie. You know, I'm not certain you and Rose aren't sneaking off behind the broomshed - let's try an experiment."

The Grey Lady was floating toward him, arms stretched in front of her... and then everything was gone. Albus couldn't be sure how long he floated in limbo, peaceful, oblivious, but he could still feel her cold, insubstantial hands on his chest when he saw her speeding away. It seemed like no time had passed between at all.

Much closer than the Grey Lady, he could feel breath on his upper lip. Where from? Unfortunately, when his hand twitched and he felt a warm back through robes, he became all too aware.

"Urgh," said Caspian from nearby. "That's just... offensive."

Suddenly, though he had just told Malkin that he and Rose were close as siblings, between there and the craters of the moon wouldn't have been enough distance between them. He was still swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, listening to Rose spit violently from the other side of the room, when Malkin spoke again.

"Amusing... but your little aftershow doesn't convince me. What if-"

"Enough!" Albus shouted, ignoring the roiling in his stomach. He now noticed the Grey Lady and Myrtle hovering near the throne; Malkin had made Rose suffer through the ordeal, also. "Next you'll be trying to make Lewis proposition a hippogriff! What's the point?!"

"And why is my hair all knotted?!" Rose suddenly interjected.

"There is no point," he confirmed, smiling as he approached, hands still behind his back. "This is my game, and I play it because it's fun. Need there be any more point than that?"

Blustering, Rose pointed wildly at the boy and bellowed, "You're such a- a- fifty points from Slytherin!"

"Oh my," he snorted, genuinely tickled by Rose's insignificant revenge. "That's put me in my place, hasn't it?"

Albus glanced around for some kind of help, a magical tutor in how to be a decent, upstanding wizard. Finding none, he took it upon himself. "You're 'playing' with lives! My life, Goyle's life - Dorika's in Azkaban right now because of you! And all for your sadistic amusement! What gives you the-"

"Self-righteous bastard!" Malkin growled, grabbing him by the lapels. "Everyone thinks they're so important, so crucial to the world around them - but not I! See, I know I am! And do you know how I know?!"

Albus was too afraid to ask, but he still whispered, "No," unable to throw off whatever magics he held.

"Because I control whether you live or die."

And then Jezabel was there, delivering a solid blow to his kidney. From the outset, he'd have wagered her frail limb would have buckled when trying such a thing, but the pain that exploded in his side told him whatever ghost was possessing her had lent its strength to the attack.

Albus leapt back as she aimed a kick for his midsection. Even under demonic influence, he couldn't bring himself to fight back against her, because he knew how much she'd taken from all sides her entire life. He ducked what would have been an elbow to the face, but once above his head it came crashing down on his neck, and he very nearly lost consciousness; black spots swam in his eyes as he stumbled away from her. Somewhere distantly, he could hear Rose and Caspian shouting, but the meaning of their words wouldn't reach his brain through the agony.

"Puppets!" Malkin announced as Jezabel leapt at him, hands twisted into claws. "The world is made up of my puppets! They serve and obey, and my every whim is a reality! I could have Sir Nicholas possess you and make you take the beating, but your remembering it gives me greater joy."

"You'll never get away with this!" he found himself trumpeting, though he knew how hollow it sounded even as he spoke. "The Headmistress, the other teachers will catch-"

"They haven't yet, have they? You said that yourself in the other room." A low chuckle. "Binns was listening, and as he listened, so did I. And you're correct; they'll never figure it out. I knew only your thick-skulled determination would lead you to me. After all, you're the son of the greatest legend of the last century."

For the very first time in Albus's fifteen years, he actually found himself wishing he really were his father. In a situation such as this, he had no doubt that Harry Potter would have already figured out what to do, how to do it, and carried it out with flawless execution. But he wasn't a gifted magician with unflappable bravery and a grim destiny that tied him together with his enemy - he was just a boy with no wand, struggling to find a way around his own death and the death of his friends. However, he would be damned if he gave Malkin the satisfaction of knowing that.

"Albus Dumbledore was a far greater wizard! My dad only did what he thought was right, and that meant shutting up a miserable little pissant just like you!"

"You mock me now?!" Malkin demanded, stalking forward as Jezabel's nails left thin streaks of red on his forehead and cheeks. "Comparing me to that half-Inferi megalomaniac?! I have no designs on wiping out Muggles or enslaving the world! What would I do with it? I only want entertainment - and for those who have wronged me to suffer!"

"What are you babbling ab-"

"You told the teachers about the Flagratattooing!" he snarled, sounding less and less in control by the second. "When I didn't even participate - only looked on, enjoying the show! Dryden has been rubbishing my work in Potions since the day he started, though I was the top of our class, and still am! Your zestful companions Logan and Macmillan thumped me soundly because they wanted the sodding crup I chose in Care of Magical Creatures! Such treatment is undeserved, and I saw to it they paid dearly for their shortsightedness!"

Albus was having trouble taking this in. All those things had been Malkin. Even up to a few minutes ago, he'd been holding onto the mental image of Dryden doing those things, trying to sabotage the Gryffindors and up their standings in the House Cup. "Why... then why Belvina? Why Elizabeth?"

"Elizabeth is... none of your business," he said scathingly. "As for the Hitchens hag, she turned my supper into make-up with her fat arse. Couldn't stand her, anyway."

"Then what about Goyle, hmm?" Rose demanded, finding her voice again; through a barrage of Jezabel's punches, he could see a lingering rouge in her cheeks from what she'd been forced to endure at his hands. "You turned Peeves loose on your own Housemate! What could he have done to deserve that?!"

Malkin turned to look at her, lip curling. "Goyle is a worm. He is of no use to anyone in the wide wizarding world, much less to me. Then one day, he nearly crushed me flat, and I decided I'd find a good instance to get back at him. And I did - and the whole school saw it!"

"What they saw was Jezabel save both him and Albus," Rose laughed harshly. "Nobody even knows it was you who'd tried to kill him, but now everybody sees the heroism in her heart. And then you get caught burning her in some abandoned room, and you've got detentions for life. Backfired for you a bit, I'd say."

"Shut up!" he growled, finally producing his wand - and that's when Caspian chose to strike. The minute his long arms encircled Malkin's, Jezabel faltered, stumbling and landing on the floor, twitching feebly and clutching her stomach. The other ghosts also seemed to wonder why they had been assembled, blinking around curiously at the room they were now haunting - and Peeves floated away from the throne, eyes crossing. As the two boys struggled, Albus sprinted forward, grabbed all four of their wands, pocketed them, and returned to the spot he'd been in. With Caspian wrestling him and Rose now trying to prise his weapon out of his hand, he was sure Malkin had noticed nothing.

Peeves had, though, and despite being too confused to stop Albus as his master had instructed, he was now gazing around at the scene, eyes alight with glee as if he'd accidentally happened upon a forgotten, unopened present from Father Christmas.

"-OFF!" Malkin shouted, finally ridding himself of the Gryffindors. Albus grinned when he saw Rose had a hold on Malkin's wand. "You blighters, I'll kill-"

"Silencio!" she barked - and it worked. Though Albus hadn't expected her to be able to use the stolen wand, she could, and had effectively. As the boy scrabbled at his own throat, livid, Albus drew his own wand and cast Incarcerous, wrapping him from shoulders to ankle before he was satisfied.

"There," he shot heatedly down at him. "Wrapped up and shut up, just as you left Jezabel. We should leave you this way, as well, and hope somebody knows the way to your..."

But Malkin was smiling. That wasn't right, they had him! But he looked on helplessly as Rose bent down to untie the bonds, hands working quickly, almost lovingly. Possessed again. Worse still, one of the ghosts immediately swooped down and plucked his wand from his limp fingers. He was too astounded to fight whoever it was. "B-but- but your wand, we-"

Rose tapped Malkin's throat with his own wand, then meekly handed it over. "Yes, thank you, pet. See now, Albie, that my power is greater than sticks and phoenix feathers."

And Albus could see. Malkin hadn't actually meant for him to, but during the struggle his robes had apparently been dislodged enough to reveal a very odd, very large pendant swinging from around his neck on a thin rope of what had to be braided unicorn hair.

"Ahh..."

Following Albus's gaze, Malkin seemed angry for a moment, then forced a smile onto his face. "Oh, very well, you've caught me up. It's not as if you can do a bloody thing about it."

"That thing... it's only- but Dryden and Peele kept talking about a chimaera, and you said it, too!"

"This is the chimaera - the Chimaera of Judgement!" he informed him proudly. "One-of-a-kind relic of wizards long past! Admiring already, I see?"

Albus stared at the red glassy surface of what reminded him vaguely of an ankh. Three small jewels were set into it, one red, one blue, and one black - not a black stone, but a gem that shone black from its depths. The whole assemblage had to weigh at least as much as five or six Galleons, and was likely worth far more.

"It's a tyet," Malkin said in answer as he somehow used this unfathomable item to force Rose to restrain Caspian. "This is quite a good story. You see, my great-great-great-great-grandfather - Necronomicus Malkin was his unfortunate name, incidentally - was working as a young curse-breaker for Gringotts, had only just been hired. It was entombed with some old pharaoh, he had to lift it from around his neck. His first thought was only to what gold it would fetch, but as he began to decipher the hieroglyphs along the walls its true purpose was revealed.

"Each rosette holds a different magical property. Alone, they're invaluable - for example, the blue one is what enables me to force the truth out of you without so much as a drop of Veritaserum. When you combine them with the tyet, the avenues open to you increase tenfold. And if you combine it with all three..." He gestured to Jezabel doubled over on the ground, then to Rose detaining Caspian. "The possibilities become infinite."

"That's a lovely fable you've dreamed up," Caspian spat, "but then why haven't there been more reportings of Muggles being attacked by wandering spirits? If your family had a magical object that good, why only start putting it to use now?!"

Malkin shrugged, walking around to lean on Rose's shoulder as if she were a marble statue in his private collection. "Hey, I only came across it because Mum ordered me to clean out the attic. Didn't know what it did - not until I found that book in the secondhand shop down Diagon Alley. You were there, Albus," he said with a smile. "You saw me with it."

The memory came back to Albus like a black-and-white moving photograph from a faded, yellowing Daily Prophet. "Yeah... before the year started. But-"

"It described, in detail, several ancient relics of bygone wizardry and their uses - or their known uses. They'd gleaned all the information they could on the Chimaera from the hieroglyphs in the tomb. To their credit, the first page is a disclaimer that some or all of them could be tall tales and mad mutterings, but apparently at least one is authentic. Too bad the Cloak of Invisibility and the Elder Wand aren't, as well, those would be great fun." He shrugged. "The moment I got home, I went back to the manky old trunk full of Great-etcetera-Grandfather Malkin's affects, shoved aside a dented old cauldron and found my ticket to joy."

It was around this instance that Albus saw a pinprick of light beckoning him; there was a way out of this mess, and it hinged on the yapping he and Caspian were still being forced to endure. Many things the boy had said illuminated possible strategies. But how to pull it all together?

The word "Legillimency" flashed through his brain - the art of forwarding his thoughts to another person. Alas, it entailed hours of gruelling practise and study, according to his teachers. Nevertheless, he had intruded on Jezabel's brain once before and the sensation was as fresh in memory as if currently happening.

'Lewis', he willed. Nothing. Was it hopeless? But he tried again, focusing on the wavy blond hair as he forced himself to relive the spiralling, floating sensation. More recently, they'd been trapped by a Portkey - he could use that, as well. 'Lewis, can you hear me?'

And then, miraculously, he saw one of Caspian's eyebrows arch, as if unsure he'd heard Albus speak or not. He grabbed onto that feeling, the tingling surge of magic he felt when doing it, and poured every cell of his body into continuing, 'You have to give me a distraction.'

"What?" Caspian said aloud.

It worked. It almost made Albus laugh, knowing that Caspian hadn't technically put the plan into action but had merely reacted to hearing voices in his head - and yet it did the job. Malkin spun about, arms folded. "What what, Lewis?"

"I, er..." the boy managed, feeling bewildered as he worked to realize what was going on. As Albus shot a hand into his schoolbag, he saw the realization dawn across his face. "Oh..."

Malkin grunted, staring up into the boy's cleft chin. "The English language has developed since the Dark Ages, mate. We've even got ourselves words longer than one syllable! Now, what's your trauma?"

"Nothing. Just that... I think I have heard of this before." Blatant lies spewed forth as Albus found what he was looking for. "You said it was found in Ancient Egypt? Well, I'm well along in Ancient Runes, and I believe when thumbing through a book I found at a car boot sale last-"

"Fascinating," he interrupted. "But unless you have some new information I-"

Caspian hastily assembled that smile of scholarly intrigue he'd seen most often on Hugo or Aunt Hermione. "But I do! Did you know that if you let the tyet soak in a Strengthening Solution overnight during the new moon, it will turn it a darker shade, and you can manipulate ghouls as well?"

It was working to an appalling degree; Malkin turned to face him fully. "Really? Hmm... I don't know that there are any ghouls at Hogarts, but my Aunt Cyrina always complained of a bumping in the west wing..."

"Well, it should be worth a try, anyway," he babbled. "The book could be a pack of lies, but if it isn't-"

"Yes, yes," he said dismissively as he swung back around to Albus. "Something to try at a later da- WHAT?!"

Albus was gone.

END Chapter Forty-Nine