Chimaera Of Judgement

41: Mothers And Fathers

"-EXIT?"

Sheets wrinkled beneath Albus's fingers when he awoke, not dirt or cold stone or anything sticky. His head pounded as he blinked around, and he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the painful light.

"Don't push," Madam Pomfrey commanded. "You may have a concussion, it's unwise to exert yourself just now."

"Mmh," he groaned, laying back. "Did anyone get the number of that wildebeest?"

"Wildebeest?" Was that Rose? "Still dreaming about those, are you? The more things change..."

"Oh, thank Merlin you're alive!" That had to be Jezabel. "I- I was so scared, I didn't know what I was going to do if- if- and-"

"'Sokay," he grunted. An instant later, he was sitting bolt upright. "No - Dorika! It's Dorika Dunsmore, she was trying to murder me, I-"

"Relax," sighed Rose, and a hand was suddenly atop his own. As the room came into better focus, he could see the outline of her flaming locks again, though her features remained indistinct; only the monocle stood out. "They've got Dorika. Being held in Professor Abbott's office right now, and Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley are in there with them. They've sent for the law, you know!"

"And... and she killed somebody else!" His heart sank through his stomach as he gripped Rose's hand, never wishing more strongly that his memory would fail him. "There's... there's a dead-"

"Ow! Stop it, Al!" Rose jerked her hand away. "Grinding my phalanges to dust won't fix anything!"

"But... but who was it? Who's dead?"

"Um..."

He spun to face Jezabel, and his vision cleared enough to see twin streaks running down her cheeks. "I- I went to get Longbottom, as I thought our Head of House made more sense at the time, and- but I must have left the front doors ajar, and P-Professor Peele saw them, and- and she went to investigate, and then- then-"

It was too much for any of them. Albus glanced desperately between their ashen faces, hoping there was some mistake, but found no comfort. "That's... I don't believe it. Dead? Th-that can't be true!"

"I'm glad you feel that way, son," said a toneless voice from far away. "Because it isn't."

He suddenly felt as if he had not woken yet. "C-come again?"

"Not yet, anyway." Now Matthias Peele was striding across the room, and Albus could see him properly. There were great bags under his eyes, and his clothes were mismatched and rumpled. "It appears that the Killing Curse used on m-my wife was not as powerful as it might have been, and as such, has only brought her very near the brink. However, she's not far. It's touch and go right now."

"Wh-where is she?" Albus babbled madly, throwing the covers from his bed and causing both Rose and Jezabel to gasp at his sudden movement. "Can we see her, I owe her so-"

"Calm yourself, my boy," he soothed, pushing him back into the pillow with his own shaking hands. "She is at St Mungo's, of course - a patient that close to death from a substandard Killing Curse should have as many trained Healers on hand as we can assemble. In fact, I really should be there to hear if there's any change, but I wanted to stop in and see if you and Miss Skirrow had recovered."

"We're all right, sir" said Jezabel at once. "Go and be with your wife."

He spared her a warm smile that did not take away from the dread radiating from him. "Make sure you all get some rest." He patted Albus's arm before sweeping from the hospital wing.

"Blast," he spat once the three of them were alone again. "What is wrong with this stupid place?"

"Take it easy, Al," soothed Rose, frowning concernedly at him. He could now see odd patterns in her cheeks from where she had slept against a spare pillow while sitting up by his bedside. "Pomfrey says you took a rough whack to the back of the head, we don't-"