Chapter 19

The dulcet sound of an axe swinging through the crisp air of a snowy winter morning sounded through Hagrid’s front patch, Atlas wiped the cold sweat that had stuck to her brow and huffed out a breath, clouds dispersing into nothing. She sighed, sticking the axe in the wooden bench she’d been using as a foundation and bunched up the logs she’d cut for Hagrid’s fire. Buckbeak was behind her, snacking on a mound of dead ferrets she’d caught for him earlier.

It had only been a day since the Hogsmeade trip. Atlas hadn’t gone back to the castle, she’d instead slept at Hagrids. It was out of permission so Minerva had come to collect her but, when she’d seen Atlas’s state and had been victim to the girls glare she hadn’t ordered her back to the castle. Instead, she’d sat her down and remained quiet while Atlas cussed her out for keeping so many secrets from her.

All of the things she’d heard, the comments Fudge had made, the questions Rosmerta had asked, the rage Hagrid had gone into, she told Minerva she had heard all of it – leaving out Harry when the woman had asked her who else had been there with her. An apology ensued, of course, Minerva pleading with Atlas, telling her she would have told her one day, that she hadn’t wanted the girl to feel guilty because she knew the young girl would have.

She was right, obviously, that woman knew Atlas better than she did because Atlas had blamed herself, more for weakening her mother with her birth. There was no admission to it though, she’d only done that to the stray in the forest she bumped into, again, that morning. Hagrid had been distraught when he found out Atlas had heard him, kept apologising for speaking the way he had but she didn’t blame him, didn’t blame either of them really.

It just hurt to find out the people she trusted the most knew secrets to her life she had pondered on in passing.

Cries erupted from Hagrid’s cabin and Atlas quickly stopped what she was doing, discarding everything in favour of checking on her half-giant friend. Buckbeak pulled at his chains, wondering what had happened too but Atlas waved him off, muttering a small notion of comfort before taking off for the small home. She slammed the door open, panting heavily as she stared over at a sobbing Hagrid, her eyes blown wide, “Hagrid! What’s happened!?”

The sobs doubled and he pushed an official-looking letter lying open on the table in her direction, she took it cautiously, glancing up at Hagrid in concern once before reading its contents.

‘Dear Mr Hagrid,’

It began and Atlas frowned, knowing by Hagrid’s state this could only be a sign of bad news.

‘Further to our inquiry into the attack by a Hippogriff on a student in your class, we have accepted the assurances of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident.’

“Well…that’s good isn’t it Hagrid?” She asked unsurely but the man waved one of his gigantic hands for her to continue.

‘However, we must register our concern about the Hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr Lucius Malfoy, and this matter will therefore be taken to the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on April 20th, and we ask you to present yourself and your Hippogriff at the Committee’s offices in London on that date. In the meantime, the Hippogriff should be kept tethered and isolated.’

“That’s such Bullshit!” Atlas exclaimed, tossing the letter back to the table and looking up at Hagrid sullenly, she sighed and brought him into a hug, the man returning it with a tad bit too much strength but Atlas didn’t mind. “I’m so sorry Hagrid…”

“Them gargoyles at the Committee fer the Disposal o’ Dangerous Creatures have it in fer interestin’ creatures!” He bellowed and Atlas winced at the volume, pulling away to place her hand on the big man’s shoulder, tears pouring down his face.

“Maybe…” Atlas bit her lip, “Maybe Hermione could help,” she said finally, eyes not entirely focussed on anything but Hagrid was too distraught to notice and continued sobbing, blowing his nose loudly into his sleeve. “Oh Hagrid…” she felt her own eyes start to water, there’s no way they could just kill Buckbeak, he was a nice Hippogriff, only hurt Draco because the boy provoked him and only hurt her because she got in the way.

“Do yeh think yeh could get him?” Hagrid sniffled, wiping at his eyes carefully and Atlas smiled, nodding her head, “I don’ want him teh be all on his own, at Christmas…can’ leave him tied out there in the snow…” 

“Of course, Hagrid,” She sighed sadly, patting one of his giant palms a few times before turning back out of the little hut and going over to the beast, obliviously chowing down on another ferret. Now, Buckbeak liked her, he really did but he liked food a lot more and would snap if she tried to pull him away without valid reasoning, so she didn’t move to and instead went over to a wrack of meat she’d been hanging out to dry. “Hey, Buck.”

The Hippogriff looked up, still chewing on a ferret only for his beak to stop moving once he’d seen what she had brought him, horned-rabbit meat, a delicacy to Hippogriffs when dried right and though it hadn’t been out long enough it would still taste good.

“Come on, Hagrid wants to see you,” Atlas urged, ripping a piece off and chucking it to the beast, Buckbeak wolfed it down as Atlas took up his chains, leading him into Hagrids home, simultaneously feeding him more rabbit-jerky. “That’s it…good boy,” She hummed, as she opened the door.

Hagrid bawled at the sight and hid behind his hands, Atlas smiling sadly and Buckbeak completely unaware of it all. She settled him in the corner of the hut, dumping the rest of the meat in front of him and even placing the rest of the ferrets he hadn’t finished beside him.

“Hagrid…” She sighed sadly, pulling out the chair beside him and taking up one of his giant hands in her own fairly large ones, “I’m sure…I’m sure Hermione can come up with something…”

“It won’ make no diff’rence!” Hagrid sobbed anew and Atlas glanced over at Buckbeak, remorse clawing at her own throat, “Them Disposal devils, they’re all in Lucius Malfoy’s pocket! Scared o’ him! An’ if I lose the case, Buckbeak –” He peered over at Buckbeak quickly and then drew his finger swiftly across his throat.

Atlas gulped and rubbed at her own throat.

“An’ everythin’s jus’ bin goin’ ruddy wrong!” He continued, “Worried abou’ Buckbeak, an’ no one likin’ me classes –“

“You know I love your classes Hagrid,” Atlas said truthfully, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand reassuringly. Sure, the lessons had been really tame as of late because the man had lost a bit of confidence since the accident but she still enjoyed what he’d been teaching. Flobberworms might not be the greatest thing, quite disgusting really but it was still a magical creature.

“I know yeh do! But does everyone else!?” Hagrid cried. “An’ the Dementors make me feel ruddy terrible an’ all,” Atlas nodded sympathetically, she knew how that felt, she’d run into one on her way back home from Hogsmeade when she’d gone back to get materials. The stare it had fixed her with almost froze her where she had stood and she found herself wondering if it had been one of the ones from the Quidditch game or the same one that had chased her in the forest. “Remind’s me of Azkaban, yeh know what it’s like…”

“I do…” Atlas murmured solemnly and Hagrid sniffled, rubbing at his eyes again.

“Wha’ if I jus’ let Buckbeak go?” he suddenly said and Atlas shook her head quickly, hating herself instantly for her gut reaction but ultimately realising she had been right to.

“You can’t Hagrid…”

“…I know…” Hagrid wailed again, “I wouldn’ do it, how d’yeh explain ter a Hippogriff it’s gotta go inter hidin’ anyway? An’…I’d be too scared o’ breakin’ the law.” More tears fell over his cheeks and Atlas quickly wiped them away with a tea towel, “I don’ ever want ter go back ter Azkaban.”

“I know Hagrid…I know,” Atlas murmured, rubbing at her own eyes before her tears fell and bringing him into another hug, this time it was gentle, the man no doubt too distraught to even put strength in his arms. “I’ll go gather up that firewood, bring in that rock I found so I can pick out its crystals too and then make you a cuppa, yeah?”

“I’d like tha’, ta,” Hagrid nodded and Atlas smiled. Turning out of the home, she first gathered up the firewood and stacked them up against the wall of Hagrids house before setting off for the rock she’d found while scavenging in a cave she’d discovered outside of Hogsmead. 

It was rather large, had a crystal in it the size of a Quaffle but that wasn’t what Atlas was after, she was after the thing inside the crystal, the centre, core, middle, origin, it didn’t really have a name but all rocks with magical properties had them. Magic was in everything and over time, if left undisturbed, it could solidify and form magical objects or creatures. Many wizards and witches have tried to replicate the process, tried to solidify magic and only some succeeded. Amaya Magianima being one of those successors.

Natural solidifications of magic, however, were commonly used for wands but that wasn’t what Atlas was making. In comparison, she wasn’t even using it for any sort of higher magical purpose, she was using it to make presents. 

That had been the plan initially, but then the Three Broomsticks event happened and Atlas was supposed to be avoiding the trio. However, she was so close to finishing she didn’t just want to give up, she’d just have to give it to them anonymously or something, get Fobbo to deliver them for Christmas morning.

Eventually, she found it, covered in a layer of snow that she brushed off quickly, lugging it on her shoulder and trekking back to Hagrid’s place. She had her tools waiting for her there on her workbench, a setup that had been built by Hagrid himself when Atlas was little and liked making things.

Atlas was no expert when it came to making things like her mother, and she wouldn’t dare to attempt wand and broom making as her mother had in her younger years, but she could make smaller and simpler things, albeit it would take her longer than it would the professionals. It was something she dipped into though and she knew more than the average person, so she was at least informed.

She stepped inside, kicking the snow from her boots and running her hand through her hair, failing to notice the three extra people in the room. When she finally did look up, she froze, keeping her outward appearance like stone while her internal being broke down.

There sat, right next to Hagrid who had begun crying again, Harry, Hermione and Ron, staring at her bug-eyed. She didn’t say anything and turned, walking over to the corner by Buckbeak to begin her extraction of the centre core in her rock. She picked up one of her hammers and a chisel and steadily made easy work of the outer shell, painfully aware of the stares directed at her back.

Buckbeak squawked, placing his head in Atlas’s lap as the girl fixed a pair of magnifying glasses on her head and flipped the first lense down so she got a clearer image of what she was doing. A cough sounded behind her but she didn’t notice it, too busy realising she hadn’t made Hagrid a tea as she had said she would. So, with a short sigh, she stood up and walked over to the stove, pushing her glasses up into her hair.

“Ta, Atlas…” Hagrid sniffled.

“No problem…” She waved off and then, after a bit of deliberation, she turned around to the trio who were all still staring at her. “Do any of you want one?”

“Oh!” They seemed surprised she was talking to them. Not like she could blame them for it, they hadn’t seen her since she ran away at Hogsmeade. 

“I’m alright…” Ron declined.

“No…no thank you,” Hermione muttered.

“I’m fine thanks Atlas…” Harry smiled warmly, though she could see the paleness in his skin, the light bags under his eyes and the fury in his pupils. Not at her, she knew who he was angry at but no matter what she did, she couldn’t bring herself to feel the same sentiment. “How are you?”

“How am I…?” Atlas echoed, voice going suddenly hoarse as she tensed up. She swallowed it down and turned back to the boiled kettle, bringing it off of the stoves to pour a giant mug of tea for Hagrid. “Does it even matter?” she mumbled quietly, though the trio heard it.

“Of course it does!” Hermione cried out but Atlas didn’t pay it any mind, walking over to Hagrid and setting the mug in front of him. He looked a little dazed by Hermione’s outburst as he quickly looked between the two girls.

“I’m alright,” Atlas answered and then looked at Harry, the two of them meeting each other’s eyes properly for the first time, “you should get back to the castle, you’re not supposed to be out anyway.”

“Aren’t you going to come with us?” Ron asked and Atlas looked over at Hagrid who looked on the brink of slumber. It probably would be best if she went back so he could sleep without her making a racket at the workbench but she still felt uneasy.

“Can we talk?” Harry asked, his eyes sort of desperate. Atlas regarded him for a moment, glancing at Hermione and Ron who looked equally as hopeful before sighing and taking off her glasses. She followed the three out of Hagrids warm home and into the coldness of the outside. 

“It’s not your fault,” Harry said as soon as they stopped. Atlas sat down on Hagrid’s top step and just stared at them. “You didn’t do anything, you couldn’t have done anything.”

There was truth in that, Atlas admitted, didn’t even need to, really, because she knew there was nothing she could have done, knew it wasn’t her fault, however, it was the fault of someone close to her. A man she couldn’t even bring herself to hate, it was like she was telling herself she did hate him, that she wanted to cuss him out and scream at him if he ever did find her but her heart was never really into it. As if it knew something she didn’t.

“I know.”

“So why?”

“I’m not…I don’t…” she sighed and furrowed her brows. “Because I can’t share your sentiment…”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“I agree…Sirius should pay for his crimes but I can’t hate him Harry, no matter how much I try to convince myself I should and trust me, I have been trying,” she gritted, clutching her chest where a familiar ache returned and her fingertips grew numb again. “It’s not even because he’s family and that’s what I don’t get!” her voice was rising now, the trio just stared at her, unreadable expressions on their faces, “because I can hate Bellatrix, I can hate the Noble House of Black but my heart just…I can’t hate him the way you do…”

“I don’t — I don’t get it…” Harry stuttered over his words, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “He’s a horrible person, he was on Voldemorts side, he sold out my parents, your mother…”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Atlas spat lowly and took in a breath, calming herself down until the numbness subsided and she regained feeling in her hand.

“Then why?”

“I don’t know Harry…I’ve just…ever since I was a kid I’d sometimes have feelings, in my chest, that tell me things or warn me to calm down and this time, it’s telling me not to hate him and I’m just…I feel sick because of it…” she managed, her voice growing thick and trembling from remorse. The three could tell she was being true, that she really felt sorry for not being able to feel the same, that she really wanted to hate Sirius Black. “Please believe me Harry…” she rasped, genuine guilt laced in her glazed eyes. Harry melted and rushed forward, pulling her into a hug.

“I believe you…” Harry muttered as she hugged him tight around his middle, Ron and Hermione exchanged a sad look before going forward and joining in, the four creating warmth that fought back against the chill of the grounds. “I believe you Atlas…and I don’t blame you for it…”

***

With her magnifying glasses on, Atlas sat at her dorm room desk, an enchanted knife and core in hand. It was relatively silent, Crookshanks was laying over her shoulder and Kalo had made himself at home on top of her bedpost, bothering her every so often for food. After her confession to Harry, they’d gone back to the castle together, Harry and her holding hands as he took charge pulling her along. He had been gushing about being basically siblings the whole way back, Hermione and Ron piping in with their own little jokes and laughs every now and then.

When they’d gotten back, Ron had offered her a few of his sweets from Honeydukes whilst Harry had continued on with a few stories and Hermione had made her a hot chocolate, eventually cuddling up to her on the couch which Harry and Ron silently teased her for. It was almost as if nothing happened. Almost. Atlas still felt a little tense around them and she could still Harry was still dealing with it all, she knew what want for vengeance looked like after all.

Now though, she was carving the cores into suitably sized pieces for each of the things she was making. The trio had gone down to the library to look for a way to save Buckbeak, she’d originally offered her help, wanting to save the Hippogriff just as much as them but they told her it was fine and that she should finish whatever they had interrupted her doing at Hagrid’s cabin.

So, that’s what she was doing, the handcrafted pieces of the Wizards Chessboard she had made for Ron sprawled out in front of her. She had been stuck inserting many individual core parts into each piece, her face so close and concentrated, so sharp she was basically oblivious to the world around her. A breath was released when she finished the last pawn of the set and she sighed out in relief, cracking her back and rubbing at her sore eyes.

She whisked her wand and the pieces neatly fell into place in the box she’d crafted, wrapping paper seamlessly coming together and a sticker with the name ‘Ronald Weasley’ slapping against its side. There was more to do though so she gently pushed it away, bumping it into Harry’s present and moved on to carving the final designs in Hermione’s Quill.

Like the Pocket-Quaffle and Wizards Chessboard, It was a special design, one of her mothers, in fact, a few tweaks here or there to make it a little bit more unique to Atlas, like the use of an Alicanto feather instead of a Zouwu and the pattern was of a Dire-wolf instead of a Nundu. The metal bracing she had as a grip had an engraving in it which would glow a steady gold when a room was too dark to see.

Atlas clenched a perfectly cut core in between her tweezers and carefully slotted it inside the grip, watching as the metal melted around it so it was unseen and absorbed. The Alicanto feather she had protruding out of it, shrunk into the brace so it looked a bit like a thin lipstick tube and Atlas smiled in triumph.

There was a little bit of scrap left behind from Ron’s chessboard so Atlas decided to do something with it, carefully and quietly carving a little chunk so it soon began to take the form of a bushy cat. Crookshanks raised his head and watched her intently as she worked, purring against her ear as if knowing what she was doing.

“Hey, you,” Atlas startled, wiping her desk away and shoving the quill and carving in her drawer.

“Hermione!” She stood up abruptly, covering her work with her body as Crookshanks hissed and jumped to safety. “Godric, you scared me…” she sighed, smiling half-heartedly as Hermione eyed her funnily.

“Uh, sorry…” she muttered, her eyes drifting to Atlas’s desk. “What are you doing?”

“Homework.”

“…Do you need any help?”

“No, I’m almost done,” Atlas smiled.

“Alright…” Hermione nodded slowly and then frowned, walking closer to her. Atlas tensed, figuring she’d been caught only for the girl to hug her tightly and that was possibly worse as her heart was beating rapidly and Hermione no doubt heard it.

“Hermione?”

“Sorry…I just need a hug,” Hermione mumbled and Atlas huffed, the tension leaving her shoulders as she returned the gesture, setting her cheek on top of Hermione’s head.

“Is there any reason you need a hug? Did something happen? Was it Ron? It’s usually Ron…”

“No,” Hermione chuckled, “Not this time. I just wanted a hug,” she shrugged. “And you looked like you needed one too.”

“Oh…” Atlas muttered and frowned, closing her eyes. “I guess you’re right.”

“…are you ok? Well, I know you’re not but I don’t think we should just scrape past what happened yesterday,” Hermione said in a tone that told Atlas they definitely would be talking about it. “I know you might not want to–“

“No, I’ll talk,” Atlas smiled, pulling away and dragging Hermione over to her bed. They stared at each other’s conjoined hands for a moment before Atlas eventually sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“How are you?”

“Considering I just had to tell a friend of mine I can’t hate a guy that killed his parents, I guess I’m as good as I can be,” Atlas shrugged, playing with Hermione’s fingers idly. “I don’t really know what I’m feeling exactly…”

“Try and explain it to me,” Hermione urged softly, brushing her thumbs over the callouses on Atlas’s palms. She had previously wondered if she had gotten them from her wand when she practised duelling, or her broom when she went to training, or perhaps even the axe she would use to chop wood.

“It’s empty…like, my body feels hollow but too full at the same time,” She tried to explain, her eyebrows furrowing up in concentration, “like I’m in an empty room but when I think about my mum or my dad. It echoes and overwhelms me and even though there’s nothing in the room I feel like I’m crowded and a rock forms in my throat…does that make sense…?”

“Perfect sense,” Hermione smiled softly.

“Ok…” Atlas nodded, biting her lip before continuing. “But it’s different depending on the parent…because of what Minerva said, with my mum, it feels tight but with my dad…because I can’t hate him even though I’ve learnt of all the things he did I just feel…”

“Sick,” Hermione finished and Atlas nodded again.

“But if I don’t think of them…like I said I just feel a bit empty,” Atlas mumbled.

“Then think of something else,” Hermione said. “Like how Christmas is coming…”

“I suppose…” Atlas muttered and Hermione frowned, letting go of her hands and instead cupping the girl’s cheeks, raising her head so Atlas had no choice but to look at her.

“Come on…you’ll get to spend it with Harry, Ron…and me,” Atlas’s lips parted slightly and Hermione flushed. “Obviously the teachers too, the ghosts will be present during Christmas dinner and there are other students staying as well.”

“Right…” Atlas nodded and then smiled, “thanks, Mione.”

“No problem, Atty…”

There was a bit of silence and then Atlas leant forward, wrapping her arms around Hermione and pulling her down with her as she laid across her bed.

“Atlas?”

“Did you know you smell like books, syrup, chocolate and peaches?”

“…no, I didn’t. Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing…I like sweet things.”

“You do? It’s a wonder your teeth aren’t rotten…”

“You’re going dentist on me again, Mione.”

“My parents would be proud.”

“I’m sure they’re proud of you no matter what.”

Hermione flushed, a grin on her face, “…thanks.”

“No problem.”