Chapter 119

In her sleep, Atlas tossed and turned —  she groaned and muttered, she tasted iron on her tongue and felt bones crack between her teeth, she felt every life taken by her jaws and souls snatched by her hand. It distressed her, not because of the content she viewed every time she went under, the blood and gore, torn limbs and eyes turned to mush, no, what distressed her – what caused her to groan and mumble was the sick satisfaction she felt, the feeling that this was proper, that this was justice, even as she imagined herself stood in that chamber once more, a Death Eater clutched between her maw, their blood coating the inner walls of her mouth. Yes, she thought, yes, this was right.

She launched upward, and hurriedly whisked a bin into her arms, the spell off her tongue before she could even process her own reawakening. She wretched, tears in her eyes at the sting of bile easing its way from her throat and into the bin held tight to her chest, she could taste the blood, phantom flickers of iron that had tainted the flesh of her gums and bone of her teeth. It had been muscle memory, summoning the bin to herself, several times, almost thrice a week she’d have that dream – the dream where it was almost like she was there again, in the Ministry.

First, she’d witness her father’s death, then, she’d go back to Visha’s reveal, her aunt’s face so similar to her mother’s and finally, to Hermione, unconscious, barely breathing beneath her. With those emotions to fuel her, she’d be placed in battle once more, ripping the Death Eaters apart like pulled pork, turning Kushaal’s eyes to mush like minced meat and pounding Dolohov’s face so severely the man resembled a beaten slab of steak. She’d feel the triumph all over again and what guilt and mortification lay beneath. But most of all, she’d remember the iron and she’d wake up to expel her insides.

With a shaky sigh, she whisked the bin away so that it vanished, its contents with it as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed at her eyes. After a moment, after she’d gathered her wits and remembered where she was she panicked and turned to the other side of her, relieved and slightly chilled to see it empty. Hermione must have gotten up earlier and from the looks of it, she’d taken Crookshanks with her. She was thankful for that but a part of her had missed waking up to Hermione every morning. A part she locked away, now was not the time, her breath smelt, she was sweaty and her stomach was newly empty.

So she stood, intent on asking anyone she might bump into where the bathroom was and pulled open the door to Hermione’s room, peering outside. She could hear a cluster of voices a floor below and knew that was possibly her best bet but she didn’t really want to commit to any long group discussions so early in the morning and especially not after her latest nightmare. She might snap far too easily. It was just her luck a streak of ginger hair came bouncing down the stairs on her right, holding what appeared to be something belonging to Ron.

“Ginny,” Atlas greeted and the girl beamed.

“Atlas!” She jumped forward, wrapping Atlas up in a tight hug that almost cracked a few of her weary bones, nevertheless the girl hugged back just as fiercely. “How are you?!”

“I’m — er — I’m okay, just…dealing,” Atlas offered, looking off to the side with a pained smile and Ginny nodded in understanding, “nevermind me, how have you been?”

“Oh,” Ginny’s behaviour seemed just as stunted, an odd expression passing over her face as she fished for words, “I’ve been all right, doing ok, and well…Zasha wrote to me.”

Atlas was silent for a long while, mouthing words soundlessly as she grasped at the sentences bouncing atop her tongue, “and?” Was the singular measly word she could muster.

“She asked me…” Ginny began, the bulge of her tongue poking at her cheek, “she asked me if I’d met anyone.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Ginny nodded at Atlas’s quizzical look, “wondered how I was doing, how my classes were and if I was all right after…the Ministry and then, she just — she asked if I’d met a nice boy or girl.”

“Ginny…that doesn’t make sense,” Atlas said, shaking her head as she blinked rapidly.

“I know,” Ginny murmured, clearly just as lost as her brows drew closer, “why would she ask those questions of all things, isn’t she under strict supervision or something?”

“I guess security has been lax? With Voldemort rising to power again, I don’t suppose her Uncle has been too attentive,” Atlas suggested, running a hand through her hair, cold and wet from the cooling sweat, “did she say anything else?”

“Well, I replied, you know…answering everything,” Ginny began again, looking more hurt now than anything, biting her lip, “I told her I wasn’t seeing anyone and that I…well I,” she took in a breath, appearing somewhat humiliated as she crossed her arms, “that I was…waiting for — for her.”

“Ginny…”

“But she wrote back and…told me to move on,” Ginny finished that humiliation turning quickly to anger, “just like that,” she spat, “just ‘Ginny, you need to move on.’ As if I hadn’t tried…it’s different when it’s not unrequited because I know we both like each other and — and we weren’t even given a chance to pursue it. If it was rejection I’d have been able to move on but…it’s — it’s circumstance. And –” she started to pace the landing, Atlas watching with sad eyes, “– and it’s like she didn’t even care, like she’d just expected me to be cosying up with someone else already. So what if it’s been a year!”

“Maybe she just wants to protect you,” Atlas offered and when Ginny rounded on her, furious, she raised her hands to placate the ball of fire, “not that you need it, you’re perfectly capable of protecting yourself,” Ginny stopped and nodded mildly, “however, it doesn’t negate Zasha’s want to do so. She wants you to be happy, with or without her, even at the extent of her own happiness. Because at the end of the day we’re on opposite sides.”

“She doesn’t have a choice, Atlas.”

“I know, Ginny,” Atlas nodded, lowering her hands, “I know but at the end of the day, it’ll be us she raises her wand to, not her own.”

“You don’t seriously believe that, do you?” Ginny muttered, looking up at Atlas with furrowed brows.

 “I…I don’t know,” after all, Visha had turned on Amaya and Newt, she had turned from good and killed her own sister, for what reason, Atlas did not yet know. But who’s to say it had not been for a similar reason, who’s to say she had not been forced to just as Zasha had? “I don’t want to but it’s a possibility.”

“But these letters, the one she sent last year in warning, they clearly show she still cares,” Ginny persisted and Atlas could not refute that, nodding sagely, “she cares more for us than her uncle, surely. So why wouldn’t she turn against them if she was given the chance?”

“Fear,” Atlas said, an odd depth to her voice as darkness thrummed just beneath her skin, “fear can drive us to do things we might not do in our right minds, Ginny. Zasha is brave but she’s always been afraid of her parents, I’m sure that carries over to her uncle. Either way — either way maybe you should try and do what she says.”

“What?”

“Try and move on,” Atlas said, “I know you’ve said you already have but try again.”

“Yeah well…don’t know if I want to,” Ginny said somewhat defiantly, “not when it’s something that could potentially be good.”

“…ok,” Atlas sighed and shook her head, “ok, Ginny. If you need anything say the word. If your owl can’t find her at any point let me know, Kalo has a knack for finding those who can’t be found.”

“Didn’t you just tell me to move on?” Ginny huffed and Atlas shrugged.

“…it’s not like I want you to either, it’s just what I think would hurt you less in the long run,” she told with a small frown, “leave the least amount of pain. I don’t like seeing those I care for, hurting.”

“Well, thank you,” Ginny muttered and Atlas nodded, taking in a breath as she looked around.

“I was originally looking for the bathroom, you know where that is?” she asked with a small smile and Ginny sighed.

“I live here, of course, I do,” she said monotonously and then, very slowly reached to her right, grabbing the handle of the door to push it open, there beyond lay the bathroom, unoccupied, its shower glinting in the light beaming through the windows, “there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, you can use my soaps, they have my name on them, for future reference the bathroom is across from the guest bedroom.”

“Right and…where are the others?” 

“Fred and George’s old room, Harry’s staying there ’cause they live in their joke shop now,” at Atlas’s further quizzical look Ginny shook her head, “second floor on the left as you go down the stairs, the other one is Percy’s old room, any further down and that’ll be my room.”

“Right so, ground floor is kitchen and living room, the first floor is yours, the second is Percy, Fred and George, and this floor is the guest room and bathroom,” Atlas recited as she slowly backed into the bathroom, thankful to find a towel already inside, “fourth and fifth?”

“Fourth is mum and dads room and another guest room but it’s so cluttered with Muggle stuff you’ll be dating Hermione by the time it’s cleaned,” Ginny mused and Atlas flushed, eyes narrowing but Ginny waved her off to continue, “and the fifth is the attic, that’s where Ron is. Well, it’s not really the attic, that place is haunted.”

“Great, thanks,” Atlas nodded and Ginny offered her an idle ‘no problem’ before moving to leave, Atlas caught her by the wrist before she could however, offering her a small smile, “I’m sorry, you know…about insinuating Zash was one of them, I just –“

“I get it, it’s ok.”

“It’s not…you like her, plus she’s my friend, I shouldn’t –” Atlas just sighed, shaking her head, “–with everything that’s going on, I just —  I shouldn’t be comparing her to the Death Eaters. I don’t want to consider Death Eaters as human, not after what I did so saying Zash is like them is…well it’s wrong, Zasha is good.”

“What you did to those Death Eaters was defence,” Ginny assured and Atlas remained quiet.

Defence that she had enjoyed. Immensely.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Atlas said, smiling tightly.

She excused herself shortly after, shutting the door and shedding her clothes to step under the shower’s warm trickles of water, the sweat washing from her body and muscles relaxing under the almost rhythmic droplets of water falling over her head. She didn’t take too long, heeding Ginny’s offer and using the girl’s soaps, washing her hair and skin before turning the water cold, head tilting left to right as she let it lather her body.

The landing was thankfully void when Atlas stepped out, a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth as she hurried back to Hermione’s room to get dressed again, she hadn’t thought of just what she would be changing into considering she hadn’t brought anything when she noticed the rucksack sat beneath the windowsill. Her rucksack. She didn’t question it openly, merely quirking a brow before approaching it and poking around inside. Coincidentally, a change of clothes lay inside, folded neatly with a note on top from Poppy.

The lady always did look out for her, she’d probably heard from Minerva about her abrupt departure and hurried to put the bag together. Atlas smiled around her toothbrush at the thought, changing into the clothes quickly.

There was a light knock at the door behind her just as she pulled her arm through her second sleeve, adjusting the collar of the shirt as she turned and fiddled with her cuffs. She didn’t really say anything to permit entry but she found she didn’t need to as the door was pushed open and Atlas found herself staring, wide-eyed, at one Fleur Delacour, a tray of breakfast in hand.

“Fleur,” Atlas smiled, hurrying to take the tray from her hands and setting it aside before she took the girl up in a bone-crushing hug, the woman laughing the breathy bit of laughter she usually did. “What — ? I mean why — ?”

“It is good to see you, Atlas!” Fleur smiled, pulling away to place matching kisses on either one of Atlas’s cheeks, one bulging from her toothbrush, “I have been staying ‘ere at ze Burrow for weeks now!”

“Yeah but, why?” Atlas asked, quickly stepping into the bathroom to rinse out her mouth, both doors opened so she could still see Fleur standing in the middle of Hermione’s room. She dumped the toothbrush in a pot and put a charm over it to stop others from using it before wiping her mouth.

“Well…” Fleur tucked her hands behind her back, “Bill and I are going to be married!”

“I…” Atlas blinked, rushing back into the room and shutting the door behind her with a loud clatter, “you what!? Why are you only just telling me?”

“I wanted to tell you in person!” Fleur cheered, a healthy pink in her cheeks, as they both sat at the foot of Hermione’s bed, “oh Atlas, he is simply amazing! We hit it off immediately!”

“Yeah — er — congrats Fleur,” Atlas smiled, still reeling from the information, “when is it? The wedding I mean.”

“Next year!” Fleur beamed, eyes sparkling as she grasped Atlas’s hands up in hers, “I was ‘oping you would be zere?”

“Of course,” Atlas nodded readily, smiling at the girl, “wouldn’t miss it for the world, Fleur.”

“Zat is not all…I was perhaps also ‘oping you would be a maid of ze bride?” Fleur continued, now fiddling with Atlas’s hand, almost nervously as Atlas stared at her, smile growing soft, “I know it does not exactly seem — er — your style, per’aps, ‘owever, you would still consider it?”

“I don’t need to consider it Fleur, it’d be an honour,” Atlas said and Fleur beamed again, throwing her arms around Atlas and shaking her side to side, a moment later though, she stood very quickly, still smiling as she seemed to vibrate with excitement.

“Magnifique! I will go now, I must send ano’zer invitation to Zasha, zat girl has not responded to my owl in months,” Fleur muttered, seemingly exasperated and it was now that it occurred to Atlas that Fleur still did not know of Zasha’s fate and her mood immediately took a hit, a frown momentarily falling across her face before she schooled her expression, “well, enjoy your breakfast, Atlas!”

“Right, yeah, thanks Fleur,” Atlas smiled as the girl winked and left the room, shutting the door gently behind her. 

Atlas approached the tray of toast, eating a majority of the pieces fairly quickly before taking the final one between her teeth and leaving the room, doing up her buttons as she descended the stairs to the room she knew Harry and her other friends would be thanks to Ginny’s direction. She heard the muffled voices beyond the door and raised a knuckle to the wood rapping against it thrice before pushing inside when she was given confirmation.

Inside, Harry and Ron sat on the former boy’s bed, Hermione standing off in the corner, her back against the wall as she dug through boxes Atlas assumed belonged to the Twins before they’d moved out. She swallowed her final bite down and greeted the three of them with a smile, digging her hands into her pockets.

“All right, mate?” Ron said, grinning slightly as he glanced over at Hermione, “you — er — have a good sleep?”

A softish-looking object ploughed into the side of his head and he doubled over, groaning as Harry smirked.

“Sorry I didn’t wake you,” Hermione offered sheepishly as she took a step forward with an odd-looking telescope in hand. “I thought you could do with the sleep.”

“Didn’t stop you from barging in here,” Harry grumbled and Hermione shot him a look.

“I told Ron to let you sleep longer, that’s not my fault,” she hissed and Harry threw his hands up, shrugging.

“It’s all right,” Atlas said, laughing softly as she raised a hand, she looked to the three of them and gestured with a nod of her head, “what were you guys talking about before I so rudely interrupted?”

“Harry’s gonna be getting private lessons with Dumbledore this year!” Ron gushed quickly before the aforementioned boy had a chance to offer his own words. Harry sighed and shook his head, shooting Ron a slightly peeved look that the ginger boy merely grinned at.

“Private lessons with Dumbledore?” Atlas questioned and Harry nodded with a shrug as Atlas quietly pondered on what they would pertain to, “I suppose he told you about these plans in that shed outside last night?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded and sighed, rolling his head to the side, “I don’t exactly know why but…I think it must be because of the prophecy. The one they were trying to — to steal that night. You been reading the Prophet?”

“Sometimes, on and off really,” Atlas admitted, wincing at some rather uncomfortable memories, “they like to…talk about certain topics and people so I usually refrain,” she coughed to clear her throat, suddenly aware of how the fabric of her shirt brushed against the healed scar across her back, “plus, I thought it best to avoid those little boxes of people giving their…opinions. Especially when some of them comment on my recently revealed — er — ability.”

“There were a few people demanding the Ministry pay reparations for what they put you through,” Hermione said rather quickly, “said the trial to do with your status as an Animagus was and truthfully so, unjust.”

“Didn’t realise they’d released details of that trial,” Atlas murmured, unsure of how she felt about that particular part of her life being so public.

“Professor McGonagall didn’t say anything?” Hermione questioned and Atlas shook her head.

“No…although, now that I think about it she did recently have a rather brutal row with Dumbledore, I didn’t know why but maybe now I do…” Atlas itched the back of her head as if trying to conjure a thought, “I don’t why she hasn’t mentioned it to me though, her knowing about the trial I mean. Was it…accurate?”

“Not…not to the finest detail,” Hermione offered, glancing over at the boys, one more confused than the other, “it didn’t include everything you told me. Only that the test was…physical.“

“I see,” Atlas murmured, looking conflicted before she sighed and shook her head, crossing her arms “Minnie probably wanted to refrain from putting me in an uncomfortable situation by asking — it’s probably got something to do with her suddenly being so dotting too…Merlin, is this why the townsfolk have been giving me stuff?” she suddenly looked to Harry, offering a sorry smile, “sorry Harry, we went off track, what were you saying about the Prophecy?”

“No, no, don’t apologise, it’s all right, I’m sorry about the Prophet breaching your privacy like that,” he offered and the girl shrugged but gave him a solemn smile. It wouldn’t be the first time, “I only asked if you’ve been reading it because recently they’ve…said a few things.”

“They’re calling him ‘the Chosen One’,” Ron grinned, nudging the boy beside him, “said he’s the only one’ll be able to do in you know –“

“Shh!” Hermione hushed but Harry shook his head, eyes gliding between the two before settling last on Atlas.

“The Prophet’s got it right,” he said and it seemed to take him some immense effort in admitting it, he grimaced, seeming somewhat guilty as he looked upon his god-sister, “I — I was going to tell you at the end of term but — well…I didn’t think it was the right time,” he hurriedly excused before continuing. “That glass ball that smashed wasn’t the only record of the prophecy. I heard the whole thing in Dumbledore’s office, he was the one the prophecy was made to, so he could tell me. From what it said,” Harry took a deep breath, “it looks like I’m the one who’s got to finish off Voldemort…at least, it said neither of us could live while the other survives.”

Silence fell over the four as Atlas slowly uncrossed her arms, Hermione and Ron stood with mouths agape and eyes wide. There was a loud bang some moments later, a cloud of black smoke obscuring Hermione from view as she coughed.

“Hermione!” Harry and Ron shouted, a crash following as a tray of breakfast by Harry’s side clattered to the floor, Atlas rushed forward, wafting away the smoke as Hermione winced and emerged, clutching that telescope still but sporting a swollen black eye.

“I squeezed it and it…it punched me!” Hermione said, eyes watering. Atlas took the object from the girl’s hands and noticed the small fist protruding from its eyepiece, she frowned as she buried it in her pocket, turning back to Hermione to examine the girl’s injury.

“Don’t worry,” Ron said, struggling through his own muffled laughter. Atlas shot him a brief glare before taking Hermione’s chin in hand to tilt her head to the side, looking over the offended eye. “What? Mum’ll be able to fix it, she’s good at healing minor injuries…”

“I got it,” Atlas said, pulling out her wand, “Episkey.“

It did not budge and Atlas blanched, looking at the tip of her wand somewhat fearfully.

“Never mind that,” Hermione said hastily, gently brushing away Atlas’s hand as she focussed back on Harry, “Harry…we’ve been thinking, you know, ever since the Ministry –“

Atlas who had still been staring at her wand, blinked from her daze at the topic, growing mildly discomforted and taking a step away, quietly excusing herself from the conversation which halted upon her announcement. Hermione had looked briefly torn but ultimately remained with Harry when Atlas told her she was just going to go down to Molly to tell her about the telescope. Neither of the boys spoke but Harry did nod to her in understanding before resuming their conversation.

She descended the stairs fairly quickly, poking her head through Ginny’s door which stood slightly ajar only to find it empty, so she continued to the kitchen where she ended up finding the girl standing beside her mother, looking upon some broken crockery.

They looked up at her entrance.

“Oh, Atlas, dear,” Molly called, smiling as she dried her hands on a tea towel. “Sleep well?”

“Quite,” Atlas said quietly, before dropping her eyes to the mess on the floor. Her eyes flashed with something and she raised her wand, “here let me,” she said, pointing at the pieces of crockery, “reparo.“

Unlike the minor healing spell she had tried to use on Hermione, the repairing charm worked in instant, Molly picking up the bowl with a thankful smile.

“Hermione set off one of Fred and George’s old gadgets,” she told, her fear somewhat damped. Her wand still worked and so did her magic, she must have simply uttered the charm wrong or made the wrong wand movement, as unlikely as that seemed. “Do you think you could help her get rid of the damage it left?”

“Of course, deary,” Molly nodded agreeably.

And Atlas offered her a small smile, taking a seat at the table and fiddling with the cloth laden across it with an absent look, gaze distant, fingers slowing over time, remaining robotic but becoming somewhat dazed. Her stomach resumed its toiling in the silence, with nothing to do her mind wandered back to that morning, the iron still heavy on her tongue despite how vicariously she brushed it. The knowledge of upstairs conversation didn’t aid her struggles, she could almost hear their whispering over her pounding heart. The Ministry, the veil, Visha, Kushaal, Bellatrix, Voldemort.

She blinked after a very long while, straightening imperceivably before looking at what had snapped her from her daze. It was Ginny, the girl sat beside her with her hand resting atop hers, she had an unsettled expression.

“Sorry, Ginny, were you saying something?” Atlas asked, clearing her throat and running a hand through her hair.

“Erm, no…your eyes were just…” Ginny trailed off and Atlas laughed somewhat awkwardly rubbing the presumed gold from her eyes quickly.

“Glowing again, sorry its a subconscious thing sometimes, I –“

“They weren’t gold, Atlas,” Ginny said, shaking her head, “it wasn’t magic I don’t think, you just — you just looked troubled is all.”

“Oh, right, I was just thinking of a bad dream I had,” Atlas offered, it was the truth, a sort of half-truth that had been diluted and trivialized. But still not a lie. “Don’t worry about it, how –“

At that moment Hermione came crashing down the stairs, eyes darting to any window, almost frantic and crazed, the bulging black eye she was sporting did nothing to dispel the image, instead, the injury made her look a bit like Mad-Eye, just younger, prettier and well – a woman.

“Where’s the dragon?” Ginny huffed amusedly and Hermione shot her a brief glare before immediately resuming her search.

“Have there been any owls?”

“Er –” Ginny glanced at her mother who shook her head, “no, not this morning.”

“Blast…” Hermione muttered anxiously and Atlas withheld a snort at the girl’s old-timey language. “Mrs Weasley, Ron said you could –“

“Atlas has already filled me in dear,” Molly smiled and beckoned her closer, whipping out her wand, “and what have I said about calling me Mrs Weasley?”

“Right, sorry Mrs — Molly,” Hermione said sheepishly, approaching the woman and taking the seat on Atlas’s other side. 

They spent several moments trying to find the correct spell in Molly’s copy of The Healer’s Helpmate, sat and flipped open to ‘Bruises, Cuts, and Abrasions’ and then spent another several minutes using said spells, producing none of their desired results. Molly was steadily growing anxious while Hermione grew agitated, looking at herself in a mirror Fleur had supplied halfway through the endeavour when she’d happened upon the scene.

“It just won’t budge…” Molly muttered. “This has always worked before, I just can’t understand it.”

“It’ll be Fred and George’s idea of a funny joke, making sure it can’t come off,” Ginny said and Atlas offered Hermione a sympathetic smile, the girl grimacing as she turned back to the mirror.

“But it’s got to come off…” she muttered, rubbing desperately at the dark around her eye. Atlas reached out to thwart her but stopped short, pulling away and instead taking the mirror from her grasp. “Atlas, you can’t just — ugh, never mind, I can’t go around looking like this forever!”

“We’ll find an antidote, Mi,” Atlas tried to soothe, “the Twins used to test their products on themselves, they’re bound to have one.”

“Bill told me ‘ow Fred and George are very amusing!” Fleu said, smiling widely and Atlas lightly knuckled the girl’s shoulder, shooting her an incredulous look. “Ah, I do not mean to say your situation is amusing ‘Ermione.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hermione grunted, waving the girl off with a slight tick to her mouth. She jumped up a second later, almost headbutting Atlas in the process as she continued to pace a trail on the wooden floor, fiddling with her hands. Harry and Ron came clambering down into the kitchen seconds later, catching Hermione’s show of nerves with identical looks of bewilderment. “Molly, you’re quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?”

“Yes, dear, I’d have noticed,” Molly nodded. “But it’s barely nine, there’s still plenty of time…”

“Why are you so focused on the post Mi?”

“Because our results are coming, Atlas!” Hermione exclaimed, almost pulling her hair out with worry. Atlas glanced over to Ron and Harry, the later boy nodding as if to prove Hermione’s claim while said girl proceeded to ramble anxiously in the background, detailing every wrong thing she was sure she had done on each subject. It prompted a brief argument between herself and Ron, the boy clearly put off by her bleak attitude.

It was in the midst of this little row Atlas noticed the owl heading towards them through the kitchen window, a familiar pitch-black blob that left a trail of darkness in its wake, whether it was a trick of the light or Kalo was actually smoking, Atlas couldn’t decipher and opted to quietly walk around her feuding friends to let her oldest companion inside. He landed gracefully on the windowsill and began pruning his feathers, Atlas giving him an appreciative word and stroke before untying the four identical envelopes from his ankle.

She held them in the air and waggled them around, garnering the kitchen’s attention immediately. Hermione practically lunged for them and Atlas had to drop the girl’s envelope quickly as if she were a snapping dragon aiming to take off her arm. Ron and Harry took there’s more amicably than the girl and opened them with quivering hands while Hermione could hardly catch the corner of hers in any attempt to rip it open. She watched in amusement for a while before looking upon her own, brows furrowed.

Something so light and small would dictate their futures. It was quite disorienting. She hadn’t been worried before but now that she held the results in her palm, she could feel the sweat clamming her up. She shouldn’t be worried, logically at least, she knew she hadn’t failed any of the subjects but an A (acceptable) might as well have been a T (troll) to that little monster in the back of her mind.

She peeled back the seal and slipped the paper free, eyes roaming over her results quietly, tension ensnaring her like a snake had coiled around her lungs, an unpleasant experience she had not wished to repeat.

Astronomy: E
Care of Magical Creatures: O
Charms: O
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O
Divination: A
Herbology: E
History of Magic: E
Potions: O
Transfiguration: O

One Acceptable in Divination, which was to be expected, in fact, Atlas had sort of been expecting a failure. It looked like Firenze had gone easy on her, however unlikely that seemed. Three Exceeds Expectations, all understandable, after all, she’d run out of her Astronomy exam, even if she had finished the paper that was bound to lose her some points, she’d never been the best at Herbology and History of Magic was a bore. The five O’s were a nice surprise though. She smiled, quietly satisfied and startled when Ron held out his hand expectantly, Harry at his shoulder barely containing his own eagerness.

“Come on, what’d you get?” He grinned and Atlas rolled her eyes, handing her results over. He whistled lowly as Harry offered her a proud smile, “five O’s and three E’s…bet nobody got higher than you in Divination!”

“Let’s see yours then,” Atlas prompted and the boys handed her theirs, waiting quietly as she slowly nodded, “nice…you two did great, seven O.W.L.s. each? That’s impressive.”

“Not better than you,” Harry said with a huff but there was no malice or jealousy in it, he was genuinely happy for her, she smiled and shrugged.

“I should have gotten more, I’ve been studying since I was like six, much longer than you guys,” Atlas offered humbly and the boys just shook their heads, sharing exasperated looks.

“Hermione?” Ginny called and the three turned to look at their bushy-haired friend, “how did you do?”

“I — not bad…” Hermione said, her voice small with notes of shock.

“Oh, come off it,” Ron sighed as Atlas reached over to pluck the girl’s results from her hands, Ron reading them over her shoulder with a light laugh, “yep…nine Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations at Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“Don’t tell me you’re secretly disappointed by the E?” Atlas whispered and watched as the girl’s ears turned pink, her head shaking from side to side as Harry let out a laugh behind them.

“Well, we’re N.E.W.T. students now!” Ron cheered, hooking his arm around Atlas’s shoulder, jostling her slightly as he threw his fist into the air, he looked to his mum, a gleam in his eyes. And Atlas waited for what he might say, “Mum, are there any more sausages?”

Of course.

They spent the next few weeks confined to the Burrow and its land, Atlas leaving occasionally to go on a jog through the glade and high grass, de-gnoming areas Molly asked her to, it was easy in her Animagus, she could sniff them out a mile away and dig them up if they sought shelter under the earth. It proved quite fun, a distraction from the morbid whispers she heard from the papers and those in the house who read them, at some point she stopped attending dinner, especially when Arthur came home from work, even when Bill arrived she would leave, everyone noticed and she was sure at some point they stopped talking all things macabre for her sake, she still persisted in her seclusion however. Just in case.

Perhaps it was selfish of her. No, it was. She knew it was, she was sure she had made Arthur and Bill feel suitably guilty for it, she however, could never bring herself to join them at the table, not since the patriarch of the house had brought up something to do with her father’s death on an offhanded comment, nothing horrid or cruel, it seemed more as a passing subject. Still, it stuck with Atlas and that night she had scratched long grooves in the wood of the dining table.

Sirius’s death did not haunt her every waking moment but that was simply because she did not allow it to. However, in the odd instances where he is mentioned, it takes her off guard and a surge of something shoots through her. Something she only gets in her nightmares. Sometimes she has to excuse herself to expel her insides.

She shook the memories off, listening out at the door of The Burrow to make sure they had moved on from the topic of Ollivanders recent abduction before stepping inside and hanging up her thin coat.

“Hey,” she called with a small smile, accepting the brief hug Hermione gave her as she walked inside. She caught sight of the letters sprawled out on the table and Kalo eyeing up the school owl that had delivered them. “Down buddy,” the black owl seemed to chuff, flying over to sit on her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Our booklists,” Hermione told, reaching up to stroke down Kalo’s front. The bird — traitorous fiend – flapped from Atlas’s shoulder and nestled into Hermiones, finding greater comfort in her it seemed. “And Harry made Quidditch Captain!”

“Yeah?” Atlas mused, looking over at the boy who was holding the shimmering badge in his palm, “…nice one, Harry.”

“He can use our special bathrooms now and everything,” Hermione grinned as Ron knuckled the boy’s shoulder.

“It’s not exactly exclusive though is it?” Harry smirked, shooting a meaningful glance to Atlas who shrugged with a smile. “Atlas has been using those bathrooms forever.”

“I get permission,” Atlas said, hooking an arm around Hermione which earned a noise of protest from her owl.

“Sure, are you trying out this year?” Harry asked.

“Maybe, I’ll think about it,” she said with a nod.

“Well, I don’t suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you’ve got these,” Molly muttered, looking down Ron’s booklist. “We’ll go on Saturday as long as your father doesn’t have to go to work again. I’m not going there without him.”

Ron made to say something, probably a smartass quip or remark but Hermione shot him a look, shaking her head subtly as she glanced up at Atlas. He didn’t speak and held his tongue, refraining from making any sort of joke for the rest of the day, or rather, the rest of the week. In fact, nobody seemed to broach or touch on the potential reasons for Mrs Weasley’s precautions and, rather selfishly, Atlas was glad for the woman’s anxieties as they seemed to halt all conversation of the current goings on of the outside world completely.

And then Saturday came and Atlas failed to get any sleep, even when laid beside Hermione, the girl hugging her arm as Crookshanks purred atop her, she refused to doze knowing what awaited her should she slip under. The nightmares had been mounting, leaving her beside herself each morning, yet thankful Hermione always seemed to be away, she knew, however, this time Hermione would stay to wake her, she would see her toss and turn and would discover the reason for the disappearance of her bin every morning. So she remained and she waited for the sun to shine across her face.

When they’d stumbled into the kitchen, Hermione shooting Atlas’s eyebags worried glances, they found Bill at the table, conversing quaintly with the family, Fleur draped across his shoulders. And Atlas took his arrival as a perfect distraction. She extracted herself from Hermione’s grasp and joined him, greeting him quietly and startling when he pulled out a pouch of heavy gold.

“Got it out of your vault for you, it’s been taking the public about five hours to get their gold at the moment,” Bill smiled kindly as Atlas took it, “Goblins have tightened their security so much these past few days.”

Atlas nodded, shifting the weight of it all in her palm, listening to it clink, “which vault?”

“Erm — well they’ve merged your parent’s vaults,” Bill offered, somewhat awkwardly, “you still technically own both…one of them is just — vacant.”

“All right,” Atlas pocketed it and looked at him, nodding in gratitude, “thank you.”

“‘E is always so thoughtful,” Fleur purred adoringly, stroking Bill’s nose. Atlas couldn’t help the slight wince, glancing over at Ginny who gagged in mocking, the boys choked on their cereal, Hermione thumping their backs simultaneously. “What?”

“PDA, Fleur,” Atlas sighed.

Fleur huffed.

AN: hello everyone, this chapter was noticeably cut off short but it still has a meaty 6k words, I wanted to get it out of my drafts however and start blank with a new chapter. So have this basically unfinished piece.