Chimaera of Judgement



CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE: Calumny And Disparagement

Close to an hour had passed before Jezabel had managed to process the influx of information about her origins. Not that Albus was naïve enough to think she'd truly come to grips, but at least she could speak and move again. Both he and Rose were startled when she performed a tricky bit of magic that transferred the contents of the footlocker (which turned out to be the books and papers Professor Snape had mentioned) into her pockets, which now expanded to fit all of it quite comfortably. Soon after they left the shambles behind and returned to Hogwarts, after which Jezabel disappeared. Neither of them felt they had the right to chase after her; she needed time.

Little though they themselves felt like being around their peers, they ambled slowly up to the common room, where they were met with questions of their whereabouts. Rose was quick to assure anyone who asked that they'd been strolling around the grounds.

"That's all fine and good," hissed Lily. "But I've been worried sick! Both Caspian and that Slytherin boy disappeared, you know, so you might have let a close family member know where you'd run off to!"

"What do you mean?" Albus said, suppressing a grin. "Caspian's right over there."

As it so happened, he was presently stepping in through the portrait hole, and had apparently spotted Albus at the same moment. He winced every other step, but otherwise looked well enough. "Hey," he muttered.

"Beat it," Albus said to Lily. Her eyebrows spiked, but luckily he had offended her sufficiently that she obeyed without question.

"All right, Lewis?" Rose asked, eyes soft with pity.

He nodded weakly. "I suppose. Nasty pounding left behind, but Madam Pomfrey said I've healed up enough to make it to the Leaving Feast. I've a query or two for you, Albus."

"Yeah?"

The boy glanced around at the other students, then led them over to the squashy armchairs by the fire. "Back in the... well, in the fight. Perhaps you didn't, and it would be quite understandable if I was simply imagining things, but I had the distinct impression that you... well, you pulled off magic well beyond our year."

Albus frowned as he dug in his pocket for a Fizzing Whizbee. "Did I?"

"You made an attempt at Legillimency, didn't you?"

Rose looked perplexed, but Albus only laughed. "Oh... yeah, I did at that. Did you... no, you can't have actually heard me?"

"Well... yes and no." Caspian ran a hand over his golden hair, normally so tidy but presently a bit disheveled. "I thought I heard my name in my head, but it didn't sound like your voice much. And then I heard a bunch of jumbled muttering." When he saw Albus's face fall, he hastened to add, "However, even that is astounding if you've never studied the art! It's said to take months of training to become even a journeyman Legillimens or Occlumens!"

"Al, you never said anything about learning to shoot your brain into others!" Rose snorted, punching him in the shoulder. "You have been apprenticing with Dryden after the mentacles incident, haven't you?"

"Don't be stupid," he retorted as he rubbed his arm - her fist had landed just off the mending Flagratattoos. "I just... thought about what that had felt like, and tried to tap into the same vibes. At least it worked, more or less. Really lucky we happened upon you on our way to that teleportation room."

"Lucky I was coming out of the loo just then," Caspian chuckled, leaning back. "Crikey, it's... I mean to say, with all we've studied about past wars and grand skirmishes of wizardkind, I never expected to be in one as long as I lived - not in peacetime! But I did have one other question."

"Go nuts," Rose answered for him.

"Somehow, you took a few blows to the chest and... it didn't leave the slightest mark. How in blazes did you block that? It would be a hell of a Shield Charm to put on yourself!"

"Wasn't any charm," Albus informed him proudly. "And I'll only tell you because you went through all of it with us, but... I was wearing a very special birthday present."

"No way," Rose gasped. "No bleeding way, that's- Al, that's absolutely brilliant, I never would have thought of Hagrid's manticore vest! No wonder we made it out alive!"

Caspian's eyes were wide as saucers now. "You've got a vest of manticore hide?!"

"I snuck it on when you went to fetch the teachers," Al told Rose. "That reminds me, I really should thank Hagrid properly for that..."

o o o

In light of that, Albus and Rose did make their way down to Hagrid's, who was thrilled to no end that his gift had been so instrumental in their defeat of Atticus Malkin (of which, by that time, the staff was all well aware). The three of them examined it as the gamekeeper reminisced about the mokeskin pouch he'd given Albus's father once upon a time, and how the elder Potter had used it to store all manner of valuables on the road to defeating Lord Voldemort. The description seemed vaguely familiar to them, and Albus thought he might check a certain drawer in an old battered chest once they returned home...

The time for the feast drew nearer and they all headed up to the castle together. They had only set foot inside when they became aware of the ruckus, and soon after they came to its source.

"Dorika!" Rose cried, clapping her hands on the blonde girl's shoulders. "Merlin, you're back! When?"

"Only an hour ago," she squeaked as everyone continued to demand answers. "There was quite an upset when orders were delivered that I should be released, but I am ever so glad they were! Y-you don't know what it's like, being walled in and told you're a murderer, having your wand taken away!"

"They didn't destroy it!" Aqua said, icy-blue eyes alight with the prospect of gossip from inside the prison.

"No, of course not! I hadn't been given a proper trial yet, so pending that they locked it away. I... it was so awful in there I even tried calling out to it, seeing if I could summon it to myself, but they must have measures in place to counteract-"

"Either way, it's good to have you back," Monica Grey told her as she threw her arms around her senior housemate's neck. "Not all of us believed you were a cold-blooded killer, you know!"

Several students were nodding their agreement when a voice rang out, "There's nothing saying she isn't, though. How do we know they didn't up and decide they lacked the evidence to keep her on ice?"

"Belvina," Albus groaned.

"Don't think I've forgotten about my arm," Belvina Hitchens squawked as she made her way down the aisles. "It still twinges when a storm is brewing! And when are you going to cough up my ring?"

"What is the matter with you?" said Nora Bones. "She's been in Azkaban! D'you really think losing your stupid ring holds a candle to that?"

"Yeah, piss off, Hitchens," Aiden McLaggen put in. "I'm sure I speak for the rest of the school when I say we've had about all we can stand of your paranoia."

"I still think it was the Skirrow girl," Brunhilda Vane offered from where she was leaning against a nearby pillar, arms crossed over her chest. "Say, has anyone caught sight of her lately?"

Albus's arms had enough time to tense up before Rose's hand reached the crook of one elbow. "Not worth it," she muttered through her teeth, before saying aloud, "You've been wrong about her before, though - or have you forgotten? Might want to give your Remembrall a gander now and then."

"It will take more than an arrest to convince me," she went on, either unaware of how close she had come to being hexed or politely ignoring it as she had Rose's pointed comment. "So many things are wrong with this picture, and they all lead back to the Muggle-born Slytherin-Gryffindor convert. Why has everyone stopped investigating these incidents when the true culprit is most likely right under our noses?"

"Now, tha's not what yeh'd call wise," said Hagrid, reminding everyone that he had been hanging back while they discussed the current state of affairs. Albus was able to breathe again when he saw Brunhilda's round face slacken at being scolded by the half-giant. "Shakin' a finger o' blame at yer own housemate. Why, imagine how yeh'll feel when it turns ou' she had nothin' ter do with it! Yeh've gone an' sullied th' name o' Gryffindor for naught, an' made yerself out ter be a cheeky busybody along the way!"

"But Professor, that girl is more suspicious than a bag of-"

"Careful with yer words," he warned, small eyes narrowing above his rosy cheeks. "Tha's all I'm sayin'."

As the gamekeeper strolled off toward the High Table, both Belvina and Brunhilda took a moment to glare at each other before they spun and headed off toward their respective house seats. One by one, everyone else moved along, but Dorika hung back.

"Thanks," she whispered, swiping at her bloodshot eyes. "For believing in me. I overheard the Ministry wizards saying you had a hand in clearing my name?"

Rose squirmed - both due to guilt and from finding out that rumours were already circulating. "Well... yes, and no. I mean, we happened upon the true culprit, but we weren't exactly deputy Aurors."

"Though we were never sold on you as the villain," Albus hastened to add. "Not wholeheartedly. Didn't feel right."

The gratitude in Dorika's face seemed to wane, but still she smiled at them. "Ah. Well, er... thank you, all the same." Then she squeezed his forearm briefly before joining the other Hufflepuffs, where she made sure to sit well away from Belvina.

"Cow," Rose hissed as they sat down heavily, all remaining happiness gone. "Cows, plural. This school could do with a few less dunderheaded gossips."

"Then it wouldn't be our hoggy warty home away from home," Albus snorted.

"Either of you know what's up?" Ryan asked as soon as he noticed them sitting across from him. "The teachers look like they're about to start laying dragon eggs."

The eyes Rose turned to him were bursting with discomfort, but what she said was, "Sorry." Both cousins were mostly relieved when Headmistress Sprout stood and cleared her throat, though all others in her audience caught their breath.

"Thank you. As you all know, this will be the last we see of you for several months - and some of you shall never return, off to seek your fortunes. To those, we bid adieu, and to the others, we bid au revoir. Before we begin the feast, there are a few announcements.

"Firstly, we all know the Hogwarts House Cup goes to Gryffindor. This-" And she paused to allow the uproar of cheers to subside enough so she could speak over them. "This may not come as news to most of you, as they've had a respectable lead for at least two months. However, this doesn't mean we shouldn't congratulate them on their dedication to learning and scholastic achievement." Another roar went up, and as she motioned for quiet once again the Hogwarts banners changed to Gryffindor colours. "Yes, yes, well done Gryffindors. But I'm afraid this second item of news won't-"

Just then, the doors creaked open. Because Sprout had stopped speaking herself, everyone else turned to better see the latecomer. Albus wasn't surprised to find Jezabel slipping in through the tiny crack she'd created, but he had rather hoped it was Urran or some guest of honour instead. After noticing she had the Great Hall's undivided attention, she did the bravest thing he'd ever seen her do: she gave a small wave, curtsied, and hurried to plop down next to him. Elizabeth Larkins scooted down to admit her meager frame, but she needn't have made an effort.

"I'm afraid," Professor Sprout repeated, "that this second item of news is less agreeable than the first. On the one hand, let it be known that the true perpetrator of the crimes against nonliving Hogwarts residents - or 'ghosts', as one might call them - has at last been uncovered."

"Thank Merlin!" Dorika burst out in a carrying whisper, and one or two students laughed.

Sprout permitted herself a weak smile. "Indeed. However, this comes at a great price. The person responsible, you see, made it quite impossible to bring them to justice. And, when faced with possible deaths of innocent bystanders, a choice was made, and a life was lost." Everyone in the room was gripped by her speech now, including the teachers and staff who were sure to have fully learned of this already. "I regretfully inform you that young Atticus Malkin ensured his own death."

"WHAT?!" Genevieve Nott burst out, automatically at her feet. Scorpius stood with her, mouth hanging open as he numbly placed an arm around the girl's shoulders. Albus glanced up and down the Slytherin table and saw that while a handful of them looked hurt, mostly the others seemed confused.

Sprout heaved a sigh before clearing her throat again. "The administration and staff are devastated that none of us had the opportunity to speak with him, help him see reason and forsake the path of darkness. But this chance is forever gone. The boy did, in fact, hold the very lives of his fellow students in his hands when the end came. He brushed aside matters of decency and respect and selfishly sought his own desires, own goals. Untimely death became the unavoidable outcome of such egocentricity. It's a staggering decision, to halt a young man in the dawn of life in order to save others... but there's no such thing as a world populated with easy choices. The noblest of Ministry wizards have searched for one to no avail. Please believe that if there had been a way to avoid this, to incarcerate him without allowing those who had done no wrong to perish, he would be in the custody of Aurors as we speak. Alas, he made that impossible. Our only regret is that despite the efforts of Hogwarts staff to impart in all our charges the fragility and worth of every precious life, Mr Malkin showed such callousness and poor judgement."

Albus felt his breath catch in his throat at this last word. Was the Headmistress making a joke at Malkin's expense? Surely not. It could only be a coincidence in phrasing. Rose, to one side, was still watching their Headmistress, a somber expression in place. Jezabel, on the other, was staring into the empty table, doing her best not to show any emotion at all. That struck Albus as a towering crime. Hadn't she saved everyone from putting up with his dangerous shenanigans?

Meanwhile, across the Hall, Genevieve Nott was shaking with fury and anguish. Both Scorpius and Lysandra Rosier had managed to calm her into her seat again, provided her with a handkerchief, but that seemed to be all they could manage.

"The Feast will continue as planned," Sprout was saying - had she continued speaking all along? Perhaps Albus had merely tuned it out for a moment. "Though I daresay it's difficult to muster an appetite in the face of such news. Please take a moment out of this evening, either now or in private, to reflect on the misspent days of Atticus Malkin, and how in the future, through fellowship and love, we might do better to prevent letting another of our number go so far astray."

And she sat. What were they supposed to do now? A bubble of hushed conversation began to make its way through the room as students undoubtedly began to wonder how this had happened. Apparently, the identities of Malkin's executioners were going to be kept under wraps. Albus felt this was probably for the best - and it proved that, occasionally, elders listened to the young.

"That poor blighter," Elizabeth whispered. "I really hope this isn't my fault..."

"How can it be your fault?" Rose frowned. "Come to that, I assumed you would have suspected Dorika as well, after you put the Tongue-Tying Curse on her."

Their classmate squirmed, twisting her fingers up in her lap. "Well, about that... the reason I put that curse on her in the first place was because she... she caught me in an embarrassing situation. Criminy, why didn't I think of that before? It makes perfect sense, now, no wonder I got attacked!"

"What?" Albus prodded.

"Dorika happened to catch Atticus, er... asking me out on a date." When this announcement was greeted with silence, she cried, "What, is it that surprising? I'm not so hideous that a boy would never ask me!"

"No, no, it's not that," Ryan laughed. "Just didn't figure Malkin for the kind of bloke to go around courting non-Slytherins. He seems like a true pureblood-fanboy if ever there was one."

"Seemed," Elizabeth corrected, which wiped the smirk off his face straightaway. "I just... well, I probably wouldn't have said yes either way, but I'm afraid I dismissed him... out of hand."

"You mean you told him he was the ugliest toad you've ever seen and that he ought to get bent," Aqua elaborated matter-of-factly from her other side.

"Essentially," she admitted, slumping down further into her seat. "Now I feel ruddy awful. What if I... you don't think I drove him to it, do you?"

"Not really," Rose sighed. "That is, I think he was already up to mischief long before he asked you out. Your spurning him probably only made you a target yourself, and you already paid for that."

Elizabeth frowned into her goblet of pumpkin juice. "Maybe..."

Her reaction to the news brought Albus back to another feeling he had buried: his own guilt at suspecting both Dorika and Jezabel, regardless of how briefly he entertained such notions. How he wished he could say he'd known it wasn't them all along, that he'd known it must be another student whom he'd already hated. But for a brief, horrible second he'd actually wondered if Jezabel was capable of such atrocities, because Malkin had so beautifully arranged for them to stumble upon her standing over Dryden's (would-be) corpse. The absence of their Potions Master at the High Table didn't seem to help Albus put such feelings aside.

Perhaps this is why, after everyone had picked at their meals without enthusiasm and Headmistress Sprout had sent them to their dormitories, Albus dragged Rose up to the hospital wing to look in on him. She seemed to think he was making too much ado over it, but with the castle's luck with hanging onto teachers he wasn't sure he ought to wait until start of next term. He would also have brought Jezabel along... if he could find her. Realistically, Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have let three guests visit at once, anyway - she all but boxed their ears for pestering her at all.

"He is in no fit condition to entertain guests!" the matron blustered. "Besides, you and all of your peers ought to be packing right about now, oughtn't you?"

"She's right, Al," Rose said soberly, nodding vigorously. "Let's leave it for now, let the poor man get his-"

"Please, ma'am?" Albus insisted. "After everything that happened last night, there really are a few things we should discuss."

"Such as?"

She had him there. "Er... just things. Come on, he was slashed to ribbons by the idiot our friend had to murder. I can't help but feel obligated."

An over-heavy sigh told him immediately that she was going to cave. "Five minutes, then out you go - and for Peverell's sake, keep your voices down! This is a place of healing, not an auctioneer's block!"

The Potions Master was in a sorry state, to be kind. Though there was no more blood on either him or the bedclothes, the severe scarring on his tanned arms and chest were still quite visible; he only hoped her medicinal spells could reduce their visibility. Some brownish crusting remained in his close-cropped hair, which turned Rose's stomach enough that she clutched Albus's arm for support.

"As I've said," the matron insisted, "he has had rather a tough time of late. Perhaps if you wake early enough tomorrow, you might make it down to-"

"No, no," the man said weakly, scarcely moving to speak. "They are welcome to... stay for a moment. I'm fine. P... please leave us."

A loud tutting noise. "I really should be used to such treatment by now," she scoffed, bustling along to compile a shopping list for the apothecary or some other such busywork.

"Professor, did you know that the chimaera was-"

"A talisman, yes." Albus couldn't help but wonder at how the man's usually-raspy voice was ten times raspier at present. "Thought to be a myth. Now... perhaps in my weakened state, I... merely dreamed it, but I seem to... recall Finch-Fletchley stopping by to... tell me the real ne'er-do-well was-"

"Malkin," Rose growled. "The git almost got you."

"Indeed," he half-laughed. "And I was... so looking forward to giving him... remedial Potions. If you can't take... constructive criticism, what hope do you... have of improving?"

"How did you know, sir?" Albus whispered. "About the Chimaera of Judgement, I mean."

"All wizards know," he laughed - which was a horrifying thing to hear at just that moment. "Few believe it to be real. Though I... expect that may change, with the... new light you've shed on the topic."

"But both you and Professor Peele thought it might be happening here, long before things had gone to the dogs."

A single one of Dryden's piercing blue eyes opened at last to focus on Albus, heavy brow furrowing deeply. "Interesting the level of intel a... common student has gathered. Hmm... yes, Professor Peele first approached me, hoping that... she could confide her suspicions in the one teacher whom had... been employed here no longer than she. Wise, I think. We continued to postulate whether or not it... could exist, and how likely it would be that... a student should come to possess something so powerful. Right up until the girl who escaped my House nearly shuffled me loose this plane of existence."

"It wasn't her," Rose immediately told him.

"True, true," he replied. "But as you may have noticed, she was unable to truly... cause either of you harm. On the other hand... well, I'm told my stay in this bed shall be extended."

Albus didn't exactly know what to say on that; true, she had dealt him great harm, but it was beyond her ability to resist. So then how had she stopped Malkin from forcing her to kill him? Was it merely that the Killing Curse was too severe to channel through someone else, or did Dryden have a valid point?

"There's just one other thing, Professor," Albus asked, a lump lingering in his throat from the unanswered question. "What we heard you talking about... in your office, the night we were to serve detentions. It made us think, possibly, that, er-"

"That it was I trying to murder my own students?" he asked with a wan smile.

"We do feel awful about that," Rose put in. "Honestly. Sorry."

"Quite all right, quite all right." He sighed. "It's a touch embarrassing, but if you... must have this for your records, I was rather upset with... the Committee For Magical Recognition. They submit advancements in various magical... fields, and whether they are worthy of note or, better yet, awards, to the... Ministry brass. Order of Merlin, you understand. And, as you have learned in class, they have been sorely mistaken in... giving Belby the nod for my potion."

"Ahh," Albus muttered. "Wolfsbane."

"It was mine!" he growled, for the first time attempting to rise from his pillow. "And Belby stole it!"

"Shhh," Rose soothed, glancing over her shoulder. Madam Pomfrey had looked up, scowling, but Rose flashed her a winning smile that seemed to satisfy their overseer. Dryden motioned for a glass of strong-smelling liquid on the nearby table, and Albus held it to his mouth as Rose said, "But Damocles Belby was an amazing potioneer, everyone knows that. How could he have-"

"I was his apprentice," Dryden grunted, clutching his chest as he leaned back once more. "In the days leading up to the end of the first war. Belby was working on a lot of things then, and I... wanted to come up with something that would truly impress not only my master, but the entire community. The old codger was so flabbergasted that I had stumbled upon such a revolutionary solution that he couldn't bring himself to admit his greenhorned help had shown him up!"

Albus frowned. "So he what, submitted it himself?"

"The very day before I planned to do so. Ohh, we had many an argument - many a duel! But they always ended in a draw, with Belby telling me to 'get over it' and returning to his pleasant status as a boon to werewolfkind. It nearly drove me mad."

"Dueling?" Rose said uncertainly. "Over bragging rights to a Potion?"

He grimaced, causing the horrifying old scar on his face to twist and contort. "How do you think I ended up with the hideous 'badge of honour' I currently sport across my features?"

Rose nodded glumly, and Albus cleared his throat to ask, "So what happened in the end?"

"I killed him."

Both Rose and Albus took in a sharp breath, glancing into each other's slackening faces. "No," she breathed.

"Yes." He heaved a great sigh, now gazing out of the window on the far wall at the sliver of moon in the sky. "It was what must have been the eighth or ninth duel between us, and I got in a lucky strike. One might think, given the year we spent almost exclusively in each other's company, that I would have learned he had what must be the most debilitating allergic reaction to horseradish in known history. Alas, before I could concoct a potion to reverse the effects - for only the head mediwizard at St. Mungo's could have an incantation at hand to do so - he was gone, and I was facing the Wizengamot.

"Two long years in Azkaban. My sentence was reduced from life, given that the duel was freely entered into by both parties and that, under Veritaserum, I attested that I had no prior knowledge of Belby's allergies. However... as he lost his life over 'his' vaunted invention, they halted their investigation into my claims that I had been the one who truly perfected it. I've been trying to badger them into giving credit where credit is due ever since. Twenty years..."

All lapsed into silence. A moment passed, and Rose tapped Albus on the shoulder to indicate that she had had quite enough and was spooked sufficiently to wish for a speedy escape. He did stand, but said, "Professor?"

"Hmm?"

"I do apologise for thinking that you might have been the ghost-manipulator. That is, after we overheard you and you told me not to repeat it, I thought maybe... that you redoubled your efforts to tell me how good I was in Potions to, I dunno... butter me up."

"Nothing of the kind," Dryden said quietly, leaning back with a more serene expression in place. "If you take nothing else away from this little chat... please, don't question your aptitude with a cauldron. You most assuredly have the gift. Trust me, I am the last wizard who would ever bend the truth when it comes to Potions."

END Chapter Fifty-Three