Chimaera Of Judgement

21: A Lesson In History

In Albus's opinion, the remainder of January following Belvina's stabbing was a mixed bag. While no one died, and both he and Rose received mostly good marks on all their schoolwork (the exception being a particularly treacherous Defense Against The Dark Arts lesson, in which they both failed to employ good use of the Impediment Jinx and got set a small heap of additional homework by Professor Peele), nothing amazingly good happened, either. They also could think of no more possible solutions to any of their three biggest problems: the mystery of the Hogwarts ghosts, Jezabel's sad state, and the ever-present looming threat of their O.W.L.s.

Jezabel, for her part, seemed to be gradually coming around - which is to say she eventually stopped avoiding them altogether and would actually return their greetings in the hallways, though she remained largely withdrawn. Albus forced himself to be glad of the minor improvement.

One brief bright spot interrupted the otherwise cold and dreary month, and just two days after Belvina "did a Damocles", as Catherine Orchard liked to call it - though most students thought she was talking about the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion. As Albus was sitting down to breakfast that morning, rubbing sleep from his eyes, three or four owls swooped down upon him, littering the space in front of his pumpkin juice with small packages and envelopes.

"Whoa!" Rose gasped, moving her plate of eggs and toast as another landed, its wing flapping briefly in someone else's leftover cornflakes. "What've you done to deserve this, and where can I sign up?"

Albus was too busy ripping open the package that Dobby, his own pet, had brought from his parents; nipping his knuckle affectionately, the tawny owl hopped over to investigate those cornflakes as Albus withdrew a pair of dragon hide gloves.

"Oh yeah," said Rose, glancing around at the other owls, all of whom were eager to deliver their packages first and beat out their fellows. "That's right - Happy Birthday, Al!"

"Cheers," he said distractedly. "I forgot... wow, I needed a new pair, too, my old ones are worn pretty thin, and there's a hole in the thumb - thanks, Dobby!"

His owl hooted and took off for the Owlery, a drip of milk falling onto Aqua Rankin's head, causing her to look around for the culprit.

It turned out he also received the revised edition of "Hogwarts, A History" from Aunt Hermione that she'd had a hand in publishing, an antique monocle from Aunt Andromeda (he was quite surprised she even remembered), a small ruby lapel pin in the shape of a beetroot from Professor Longbottom (the note said something about "To remember our chat in the shed by"), some experimental product called Anise Ants from Uncle George, and a thick, handsome tannish vest from Hagrid.

"What on earth is this stuff made of?" asked Rose, running her hand over its tough material. "It's no ordinary leather, but it's definitely not from any dragon I've heard of."

"The note says... blimey! It's manticore hide!"

"No, it isn't," Rose scoffed, squinting down at it. "There's no way, not in a million years-"

"But that's what it says!" Shoving the note under her nose, he went back to admiring the vest. "Holy hippogriffs, I wonder what he had to go through to get his hands on one..."

Rose couldn't help but smile, even as she looked faint. "Knowing Hagrid, he'll have slain the manticore himself."

The memory of his interesting gifts carried Albus through the rest of the day - even the rigorous Transfiguration period in which they tried turning geese into mongeese. After a heavy supper that put him in a drowsy mood, he and Rose settled to Professor Abbott's abysmally-long essay on Switching Spells, but the fire was so warm and soothing that he'd scarcely worked out the first few inches before he dozed off.