Chapter 4

It was late by the time any noise interrupted Atlas and the cat she had found, sitting on her bed when she had eventually gotten to her room. He was a little chubby, ginger and had a mean look about him, his face a bit squished. Still, Atlas found him cute, good company, he was well behaved, sat in her arms the entire time, his paws wrapped around her neck as if cuddling her and he didn’t make a sound. Save for his purring.

That was until she walked in, Hermione Granger. The big cat jumped out of her arms and padded over to the bushy-haired girl, pruning against her legs. To say Atlas was shocked would be an understatement, animals would more often than not, stick to her, even if their owner would turn up.

“Hello, Crookshanks,” Hermione greeted, grinning from ear to ear as she picked the cat up and cradled him in her arms, Atlas just watching from her bed. It was clear the cat was well-loved – definitely so if he chose Hermione over Atlas – and that Hermione was a good girl if she had such a bond with the cat who gave off a very untamable vibe. “It’s nice to meet you, Atlas,” she smiled kindly, “my name is–“

“Hermione Granger,” Atlas finished bluntly, “I know,” she affirmed and Hermione seemed to backtrack a bit, a blush of what looked to be embarrassment blooming across her face, “Minerva talks about you, Ron and Harry a lot.”

“Good things I hope,” Hermione chuckled.

“If you consider breaking countless school rules on multiple occasions and being the sole ones responsible for the number of grey hairs she has…yes,” Atlas nodded, “I find the stories funny.”

“I’m glad someone benefitted from the trouble those dimwits get us into,” Hermione sighed and then soon smiled, holding her hand out for Atlas to take. The girl eyed it curiously for a second, before standing up and putting her hand forward with furrowed contemplative brows. “It honestly is good to meet you.”

“You’re Muggle-born.”

“I’m aware,” Hermione replied.

“Look, did Minerva set you up to this?” She sighed, taking her hand back and looking back at Hermione, eyes searching. “Because honestly, you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want. I get it if I make you uncomfortable, my family bloodline has made strides against Muggle-kind after all and you know, my dad does work for the guy who killed your best friends parents,” Atlas said. Hermione smiled at her kindly, Professor McGonagall was right when she said she’d be hesitant.

“Professor McGonagall is your godmother?”

“Uh…yeah…?” Atlas stopped, her gaze turning quizzical, “You don’t…find me off-putting?”

“Of course not,” Hermione smiled and then moved to sit on Atlas’s bed, Atlas mutely sitting down with her on reflex.

“But…you don’t know me? Do you not read the paper?”

“I read the paper,” Hermione nodded, “and I’m all for freedom of the press…but…the Daily Prophet isn’t a very honest news outlet. Plus, I’m not so small-minded as to judge you based on your families actions. You haven’t acted like Malfoy yet so that’s a good sign.”

“Malfoy?”

“You don’t know the Malfoys?”

“No, I do…we’re all sort of…related,” Atlas grimaced and then smiled for the first time, looking at Hermione gratefully, while the other continued to regard her with a sort of fondness. “Thanks…for not treating me like a threat. It’s refreshing. Most people in the village have resorted to avoiding the street I live on now, even though we all used to get on just fine.”

“It’s really no problem. Besides, Crookshanks likes you so I automatically like you too,” Hermione assured, stroking down the back of the cat’s spine absentmindedly. “Oh!” She rummaged through the inside of her cloak, pulling out a messy clump of greasy tissue and unravelling it, “I brought you some sausages.”

“…why?” Atlas smiled, an eyebrow raised.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Hermione reasoned and edged them forward. To her delight, Atlas took them, taking a thoughtful bite out of one, chewing and swallowing before speaking again. A breath of fresh air considering the boys she usually found herself surrounded by would often talk with their mouths full.

“Thanks…” Atlas muttered and then an easy smirk wormed its way onto her face, her head cocking to the side. “Never thought I’d find myself being fed like a dog by a pretty girl.” Ah, so that was what Professor McGonagall meant when she said Atlas treated newcomers like old friends. Hermione couldn’t help herself and flushed in embarrassment, Atlas laughing lightly as she took up another sausage. “Yeah, Minerva is my godmother.”

“What’s it like?”

“Pardon?”

“Living with such an extraordinary witch,” Hermione cleared and Atlas smiled, making the girl blush again, “I’m sorry, am I being too nosy? Ron always says I stick my nose into other peoples business too much…” she sighed.

“No, you’re ok,” Atlas insisted and then crossed her legs, playing with the cuffs of her trousers, “I just didn’t really expect someone to actually care.”

“Because of your…situation?”

“Yeah,” Atlas nodded and Hermione smiled. “Well, it’s ok…living with Minerva, she spends most of her time here but I don’t mind.”

“I always did wonder why she was never around for Christmas,” Hermione mused with a small chuckle, “Parvati and Lavender theorised she had some sort of secret family. I suppose they were right.”

“I suppose so,” Atlas agreed and then looked out of the window to the right of them, watching the rain beat against the glass before sighing again and bringing her knees to her chest. Hermione watching her the whole time. There was something intriguing about the girl, she seemed so small and big all in one, quiet but loud like her presence was heavy, not just because of who she was but because of what type of person she may be inside. Suddenly, Hermione felt quite compelled to get to know this girl, understand and befriend her because Atlas Black seemed so different from the stories of her notorious family.

“Would you like to eat breakfast with me tomorrow?”

The question had caught the brooding Atlas off guard, she’d been thinking and feeling similarly to Hermione, she wanted to get to know the bright-eyed bushy-haired girl. Not just because of all stories she had heard – though that was an undeniable factor – but because Hermione seemed so sure and positive. Her nosiness not unwelcome to Atlas, as for some reason, she felt like her nosiness wasn’t unkind, it was honest and felt like she really did care and did want to get to know her past her heritage. 

“Ok.”

“Really?” Hermione grinned, Crookshanks writhing in her vice grip and jumping to Atlas for sanctuary. The Black welcomed him openly, allowing him safe passage up and into her jumper where he proceeded to poke his head through her neck hole, setting his beedy orange eyes on Hermione first before turning and snuggling into Atlas’s collar bones.

“Of course,” Atlas nodded, sensing some more questions hanging in the air. Surprisingly, Hermione didn’t move to ask them and instead stood up with a smile, making her way over to her own bed to unpack. “I can tell you have questions.”

“I do but…I thought it’d be rude of me to bombard you upon meeting you,” Hermione smiled sheepishly and Atlas mirrored the gesture, though more fondly than anything. Considerate and kind, pretty too, Atlas knew Hermione was all of these things and more from how Minerva had described her but to experience it first hand was nice. She’d often told Bella of all these things as well, no wonder the woman had thought Atlas had a crush on the witch.

“I don’t mind. I know most things about you so it’s only fair I give you some answers,” Atlas reasoned and Hermione stopped unpacking, sitting beside her trunk instead as she got ready to ask some more questions. Strangely, Atlas really didn’t mind and considering she hated people asking her too much, it was a surprise.

“Magianima…it’s Latin right? For ‘Magic Soul’. Roughly, anyway. Most wizarding spells have Latin roots so I know quite a bit of the language,” Hermione voiced and Atlas nodded slowly.

“Uh, yeah…my mother was Amaya Magianima.”

“The Famous Auror?” Hermione questioned further, though there was a glint of excitement in her eye as she said this and when Atlas nodded, that excitement grew, her unkempt hair adding to the whole frazzled look, “She’s only like…one of the greatest witches of the twentieth century!”

“You know her?”

“Well, I’ve read books on her, I thought your name sounded familiar,” Hermione grinned, “that’s amazing though. I’ve only ever read of her feats in the Ministry, not of anything to do with her home life. After hearing how uncomfortable it made Harry to have books written about him without him knowing, I sort of steered clear from anything about a person’s private life if it’s not consented to.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have minded,” Amaya Magianima had been a talented witch, her abilities as an Auror unique and exceeding most. A witch who had created her own spells, some that continue to impact wizarding society to this day and had even dabbled in self-experimentation. Or so the records go anyway.

“May I ask you something else?” Atlas snapped out of her daze, only just registering that Hermione had now returned to sitting next to her.

“I might not answer, sweetheart,” Atlas smirked, amused by the number of questions this girl had and just how curious she was.

“Oh no, you don’t have to answer any questions I give you, honestly. Feel free to tell me to go away,” Hermione flushed.

“Ok well…ask away.”

“How did you get those scars?” A very forward question, one Atlas should have been expecting but was shocked by nonetheless, “I’m sorry, that was rude! I really, honestly, don’t go around asking people about themselves like this! Oh, God…I don’t know why I said that…”

“Uh, no it’s fine,” Atlas assured, blinking a few times to gather her thoughts, “Should have expected it really.”

“Sorry…”

“It’s alright…I don’t fully know,” Hermione looked at her quizzically to which Atlas just shrugged lamely, “Yeah, I don’t really remember who gave them to me just…claws.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Hermione offered after a moment and she moved her hand, seemingly going to pat Atlas’s head only to deter last moment and land on Crookshanks, the cat scrunching up his face at every stroke. “Atlas.”

“Yeah?”

“I wouldn’t worry about everyone else and what they might say,” Hermione smiled and Atlas nodded slowly, “seriously, a few of the Slytherins have parents who were Death Eaters and no one brings it up.”

“Thanks, Hermione.”

“No problem…” there was a moment of silence between them before Hermione awkwardly shot up, going back over to her bed with Atlas watching her back and chewing on her final, now-cold, sausage. 

“Goodnight.”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder once before smiling softly to herself and turning back to her trunk, Atlas shuffling around behind her as she did, “Goodnight Atlas.”

***

Seeing a Pureblood whose father was a serial killer on the run sitting across and smirking at a Muggle-born whose greatest scandal was when she went looking for a troll in first year was not something most students of Hogwarts expected the day term kicked in. In fact, they had expected to see the daughter of Sirius Black alone, glaring and sending silent curses to those that walked by, not whatever it was the girl was doing with a small little cat figurine she had apparently carved in her free time.

“You made that?” Hermione smiled, examining the little detailed cat she had held in her palm, “Is it based on Professor McGonagall’s Animagus?”

“Yeah,” Atlas took it back, clipping it back to the chain around her neck and tucking it back in her shirt, “I had her sit still for four hours.”

“You had her pose for it too?” 

“I’m honestly lucky she loves me otherwise I feel I would have added a few more scars to my face,” Atlas mused with a smirk as Hermione laughed.

“Hey Hermione,” A voice behind Atlas sounded and the girl turned her head, meeting the gaze of one bespectacled green-eyed boy staring down at her. Harry Potter and this time there was less fear and more intrigue. 

“M-mind if we join you?” The ginger lad – Ron – stuttered, standing just behind Hermione on the other side. The girl in question seemed to grin at Atlas, telling her something with her eyes.

“Of course,” Hermione smiled and then gestured to Atlas, “Harry, Ron this is Atlas. Atlas these idiots are Harry and Ron.”

“Hello,” Atlas nodded with a short smile before turning back to her bowl of porridge.

“So, Ronald, Atlas’s mother is Amaya Magianima,” Hermione told and Atlas looked up at her quizzically only to now find the boy beside her no longer fearful but absolutely ecstatic.

“No way!” Ron cried and Atlas blinked, looking over to Hermione unsurely only to see the girl grinning back at her reassuringly, “Bloody Hell, no wonder you’re a good flyer! It’s in your blood!”

“How did you know I fly?” Atlas asked, smiling at the boy in amusement.

“Professor McGonagall told us,” Harry informed.

“Not only that but she was one of the best Auror’s the Ministry ever saw! My dad brags to this day about how he got to work with the great Auror Amaya Magianima” Ron continued to ramble, it looked like he was a big fan like Hermione who nodded along to everything he said. For once. “My brother, Charlie – he works with dragons in Romania – said that he once–“

“Wait your brother works with dragons in Romania?” Atlas quizzed, suddenly thinking back to her village friend, Isabella. Ron nodded enthusiastically, a hint of pride in his eyes, “My friend, Isabella, does that too. Recently got the job in fact.”

“Are you talking about the squib?” Ron questioned and both Hermione and Harry sent each other looks, not believing that just the night prior Ron seemed so against Atlas Black but was now talking to her much more than they were – the people who proposed the idea of befriending the girl. “Charlie told me about her! Apparently, she has some weird affinity to animals.”

“Yeah, it’s the only reason they accepted her application,” Atlas shrugged with a grin, “She’s bright but not in the ways of magic, unfortunately. Has a bit of an odd personality too, causes trouble but scolds me for doing the same.”

“Well at least she’s not taking it out on others like Filch does,” Ron grumbled casting a look over to Filch and his beady-eyed tabby. “I swear he makes it his personal mission to mess with us.”

“Definitely,” Harry grinned, “so Atlas, you’re going to be on the Quidditch team?”

“Yeah, I heard you’re Gryffindors Seeker,” she smiled slightly and the boy nodded with a grin, “Also heard you threw up the snitch in first year and broke your arm last year,” he nodded again but with more of a sheepish smile than anything.

“How do you know all that?” Ron asked.

“Minerva tells me everything you three do. She came home one night absolutely beside herself because some 12 year old beat her in wizards chess,” she told and Ron went red if a little giddy at the memory of beating Minerva’s enchanted chessboard.

“Don’t give him an ego boost,” Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, Atlas those study sessions…”

“Oh, right,” Atlas nodded, turning back to face Hermione as the two boys sent quizzical looks to each other, “When should we start?”

“Saturday?”

“I…uh, sure…it’ll have to be later though, I have…something I need to do.”

“Great.”

“I’m sorry, what study sessions?” Harry asked, leaning into the conversation.

“Atlas is struggling in Herbology,” Hermione told and Atlas nodded, “I offered to tutor her.”

“How come we don’t get tutoring?” Ron asked, his brows furrowed.

“Because all you do is mess around,” Hermione answered cooly and Harry looked to Atlas in amusement, the girl returning his smile.

“I do not–!”

“It’s nice to meet you, Atlas,” Harry grinned, Ron and Hermione continuing their argument in the background. “Just know that I don’t hold anything against you…maybe your family, sure but otherwise we’re cool…cool?”

“Uh yeah…cool,” Atlas nodded and Harry smiled wider, “I’m sorry about your parents…”

“I’m sorry about yours,” Harry replied and then eyed the hand Atlas stretched out to him, taking it after a second and shaking it. “So, the scars…” He began and motioned to his own forehead. “It’s rubbish having everyone ogle at you as you walk down the street huh?”

“Tell me about it…at least you can cover yours up though,” Atlas joked good-naturedly if a bit obliviously but Harry got the lack of nastiness behind it and grinned.

“Oh yeah and then Hermione scolds me for having messy hair.”

“Mhmm. I sort of don’t mind mine though…”

“They make you look wicked,” Ron piped in, apparently he and Hermione had stopped bickering and had been eavesdropping on their conversation for Merlin knew how long, “like…no one will mess with you.”

“That also means no one here will try to talk to me,” Atlas replied and Ron spluttered.

“I talked to you,” Hermione quipped.

“Yeah well, clearly you’re a bit odd.”

“You can’t even tie a tie,” Hermione rolled her eyes, though a faint blush of embarrassment dusted her cheeks. “And your bedhead is unruly.”

“I know you didn’t just say that,” Harry smiled, eyeing Hermione’s hair. A light jokey argument ensued, Atlas just sitting on the sidelines, sipping on her goblet of apple juice – she hated pumpkin juice – and watching. It felt a little peculiar, she’d heard so many stories of the golden trio it sort of stunned her to see them so normal. The fact that each of them had been wronged by someone from her family yet still seemed to want to be her friend was even more strange.

After all, Muggle-borns had been hated and voted against by her family, Ron’s own grandmother was disowned from her family and Harry’s parents died by the hand of the man a majority of her family idolised. It was a bit surreal in honesty.

“Don’t you agree, Atlas?”

“Huh?” she snapped out of her daze, looking around at the three quizzically, “sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Stop worrying about if we hate you,” Hermione chided and Atlas smiled, shaking her head. She hadn’t necessarily been thinking about that but it was nice to have confirmation. “Gryffindors are loyal by nature, you know? Once you’ve befriended us we’ll stick by your side.”

“I thought that was Hufflepuff?” Ron questioned, his face scrunching up in confusion.

“Traits aren’t limited to one house,” Hermione sighed.

“Did you forget that, or are you saying you’re not loyal, Ron?” Harry teased.

“I’m loyal!”