Chimaera Of Judgement

9: Damazein And The Angry One

Albus was disappointed to find his cousin did not think much of his theories when he suggested them later that evening, his hair not yet dry. Rose didn't dismiss them out of hand, but seemed to think each as unlikely as the next.

"But this might not have been an attack at all," she insisted, removing her right sock and sticking it on her hand; if Albus had not seen her do this innumerable times he would have thought it strange. "Hogwarts is like, a thousand years old or something, isn't it? Stuff is bound to fall apart now and again."

"Not as much of Hogwarts is as old as it used to be. It hasn't even been thirty years since half of it was blown sky high by Death Eaters and giants and-"

"Besides," she cut across him, "even a brand new chandelier isn't guaranteed not to fall; things break, Al. Aha!"

Her hand withdrew, a tiny wad of fluff between thumb and forefinger. "Blimey, I hate new socks. You always get these bits of lint that stick between your toes, and no matter how you wiggle them or stamp around, they won't come loose, so you..." She caught the look on his face and rolled her eyes, shoving the sock back onto her foot. "All right, if it'll make you feel better, maybe we should tell Longbottom - he can probably do a better job of checking out a lead than the two of us. Meanwhile, we've got some moons to look at, so I'm gonna go find my telescope."

As he watched her ascend the steps to the girls' dormitories, he privately thought Professor Longbottom would not be particularly thrilled to have the delinquents of Gryffindor Tower burst into his office, claiming to know why Logan's leg was nearly severed. Mentally vetoing this course of action, he decided he might as well go and get his Astronomy equipment, also.

Discouraged but unconvinced, he did not mention his suspicions to her again all through Thursday - though he watched Professor Peele warily that morning in Defence. Rose seemed to be taking full advantage of this as means to keep him distracted by sticking mainly to two subjects: Quidditch and homework. After a while, she became somewhat dull conversation.

Speaking of Quidditch, practise that night went well, save for the announcement that came at the end.

"Everyone, hark this," Olivia was barking as they changed out of their team robes in the locker room. "I've been drawing up a new training strategy, and I don't think three nights a week are going to cut it."

"Aw, come off it, Wood," said James as the others groaned. "Slytherin's so pathetic we're bound to trounce them - why cause ourselves unnecessary suffering?"

"Because it's unnecessary suffering that wins the Cup!" she barked. "I want us to start practising Sunday night as well; I think four nights a week should help do the trick. I'll see you all Saturday, then, and don't be late!"

As his teammates made to leave, he motioned to Rose that they should move forward. After a few moments, Olivia poked her mocha-hued face back out from behind the locker door and said, "Potter, Weasley - something wrong?"

"We won't be able to make the practise on Sunday night," Albus muttered. "Ryan, either."

"Why not?" she demanded. "You got something better to do?"

"No," said Rose. "Detentions. Y'know, from the thing with Macmillan."

Her eyes rolled. "Oh yeah... heard about that. Well, that's all right, just show up if you've got time after your detentions are over."

"'Just show up after your detentions'," Rose mimicked nastily as they headed across the pitch-black lawns and into the castle. "What if we end up scrubbing all the toilets in the castle or something? She'd want us to spend a few hours dodging and passing on top of that, would she?"