Chapter 43

Passing by a crowd of people, Atlas flashed them a quick smile as she walked through them and into the library, the door having been blocked by their bodies. A few of them giggled and waved back while the rest simply whispered amongst themselves, their muttered words becoming muffled as Atlas closed the door with a small smile, rolling her eyes at their antics. 

She adjusted the bag she had on her shoulder and nodded a greeting to Madam Pince, jogging casually over to where she saw Hermione surrounded by books and completely immersed in another she had in her hands. Atlas sat down carefully, not wanting to disturb her as she tucked her bag under her chair and pulled out the donations tin, Ron should have been parading around. Of course, he hadn’t and Atlas had taken up the mantle of both treasurer and advertiser. Though, she had collected quite a sum so she couldn’t complain, knowing Ron wouldn’t have explained the whole organisation as good as Atlas had. 

That morning had been quite busy, Potions with Snape was never easy but it seemed he’d upped his mean streak and had threatened the students he would think about putting a drop of poison in their goblets nearer to the end of the year to test their antidotes. Atlas had wanted to throw a rather large tome at him at this announcement but refrained, summoning what little restraint she had to stop her from physically attacking a teacher. The year prior in the Shrieking Shack didn’t count. It was a one-off. A very satisfying one-off.

He wasn’t the only one, however. Threatening to endanger a students life aside, most Professors were upping the workload, preparing the Hogwarts fourth years for the OWLs they’d be facing in the fifth year. Their Ordinary Wizarding Levels. Atlas was taking it alright, sweating a little in certain subjects but not as much as both Harry and Ron. She had offered to tutor them in Potions though, as Hermione had done with her for Herbology.

Atlas pulled out her Herbology homework, grabbing the book Hermione had enchanted for her so she could better read whatever some distant deceased Herbologist had written. She itched the back of her neck idly and tickled her nose with her quill feather, settling into a studious silence as she scratched down notes and circled her wand in smooth motions in the air. There was a sickle from Hermione’s donation tin floating at the end of it, connected by a transparent, misty, golden string.

A painful force struck the back of her head and Atlas winced, her concentration broken, sending the sickle at the tip of her wand to the table as she spun around quickly with a grimace, holding the back of her head. There was no one there.

“Oh, Atlas! I didn’t see you come in,” Hermione remarked and Atlas turned back around, looking at the smiling girl sorrily.

“I tried to be quiet but something just…” she glanced over her shoulder again and then to the side of her where she saw a purple gem left on the floor. It must’ve been the thing thrown at her, “hit the back of my head…” she picked it up and rolled it around in her palm, noticing the letter ‘F’ engraved onto its surface. “Fobbo…” she muttered.

“What did you say?” Hermione asked warmly and Atlas looked up at her, waving it off.

“It was nothing, so, what are you doing?” Atlas questioned, looking down at the contents of her books. It was a variety of things really, generic revision books, some from their current year and others well into sixth-year level and then there were the history books, all on Elves and their basic rights, how they were treated throughout the millennia, so on and so forth.

“Oh, just some more research,” she told with a light sigh, “how are you?”

“I’m alright,” Atlas said, “Has Harry heard anything from Sirius after sending that letter telling him not to worry?”

“No, not at all, I suspect it hasn’t even reached him yet.”

“Right…well, Harry needs to trust Sirius, I mean…he managed to make his way from Azkaban to here, he’ll be…fine. And Harry’s scar is a big deal right? It hurting?” Atlas asked and Hermione nodded, “so it’s good Sirius is coming.”

“It is.”

“He’s going to be alright, I mean, he’s made it this far, like you said,” Atlas said and then pushed forward the donations tin. “Anyway, sorry,” she sighed. “I managed to get a few in on your scheme, Mi. Cedric bought a few and I’m pretty sure he’s still parading around the school with all six of them lining his robes,” she smiled at the thought, “Luna bought one and so did Cho, there are loads more wearing them though. Mainly the Muggle-borns actually which doesn’t really surprise me.”

“I’m glad,” Hermione grinned and just seemed to stare at Atlas a moment before bursting and reaching over the table to pull her into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’ve already thanked me,” Atlas said, quirking a brow but returning the hug anyway.

“I know but…” she pulled away, slumping in her chair, “you’re really the only one who’s helping me, Harry has been good with it but Ron just doesn’t care. It’s just been a little disheartening, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Atlas smiled. “I’ll advertise some more after Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“That would be amazing.”

“It’s no problem at all, just…” Atlas bit the inside of her cheek, “are you sure you’ve thought this…through?”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, Mi…like I just said, I’m all for your campaign it’s just…maybe you should talk to some of the elves when I do take you to the kitchens,” She shrugged and Hermione cocked her head to the side, genuinely curious as to what she was saying. “There are obviously elves that don’t get treated quite right but, it really is in an elves nature to serve.” — Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Atlas quickly continued –“Your heart is in the right place. Your actions are noble, however, not all elves want to be freed…genuinely because they don’t know how to be…free. Do you understand?”

“But, Harry met a house-elf once. All he wanted was freedom, he was ecstatic when he got it.”

“That’s one house-elf and where is he now?” Atlas smiled softly as Hermione suddenly went quite pink. “Freeing all house-elves wouldn’t solve anything because suddenly they’ll be jobless, penniless because owning one isn’t an obligation and people won’t want to pay something they didn’t have to beforehand. So…think of something else…something that will — er — protect them, so they don’t suffer abuse but can remain doing the jobs they love.”

“Right…” Hermione nodded slowly, furrowing her brows as she thought quietly a moment. Atlas watched her amusedly, waiting while the girl came to some sort of conclusion. “How about…laws?”

“Go on…”

“Laws that protect elves from abuse, it will — will prohibit employers from hurting their workers. Er –” The clogs in her head were turning and Atlas just adored the way her face screwed up in thought. “– There will, of course, be punishments…maybe the elf can be…rehomed? Suggested to a nicer family. I still think they should get representation in the Ministry and that they should be allowed wands just as much as any other wizard. They should be allowed basic rights also, encouraged to…ask for things.”

“…there we go,” Atlas smiled and then she leant back, glancing back to the tome before her. “Just remember whenever I do take you to the kitchens, don’t force them into freedom, you’ll be no better than those who strip their desires from them.”

“Of course…”

“On that note, I was wondering when you’d like to…uh…” Atlas looked just past Hermione’s shoulder, noticing a familiar old dress of hers flitting behind a bookshelf. A set of overly large ears peeked over a few books and great big watery eyes watched her through one of the shelves, blinking slowly. 

“When I’d like to?” Hermione urged.

“Sorry, Mi…I’ll uh…I’ll be back in a second,” Atlas muttered, shutting her book and walking over to where she had seen the form. With the signed purple crystal, she had an inkling of who it could be and when she set eyes on the nervously smiling form, her suspicions were confirmed. Fobbo kept his eyes on her as he slowly returned the book he had been pulling from the shelf. “Fobbo.”

“Fobbo is sorry Miss Black!” Fobbo rushed, reaching forward to take her hand. “but Fobbo was growing tired of the kitchens, Fobbo is only allowed to cook, he is not allowed to clean or come see Miss Black. Then, he sees a book he thinks he might like and he thinks — he is thinking Miss Black, that you would get it for him?”

“Fobbo,” Atlas sighed, crouching down in front of him. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to see Madam Pince scolding a few rowdy first years and Hermione still quietly waiting for her return before looking back to him. “You can’t be here.”

“Fobbo is sorry, Miss Black…”

“No, no, it’s ok,” she patted his head and looked back to the shelf, plucking out the book he had chosen. “Fobbo…I — I don’t think you’ll like this book…” she grimaced, looking down at the cover depicting an Elf and its master.

“But it is an elf story, Fobbo is an elf.”

“Yes well…it’s not a happy story for the little elf, ok?”

“What happens to the elf, Miss Black?”

“I’ll uh…I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“I’m older than you Miss Black.”

“Uh…right, I didn’t know that…still…not this one,” Atlas put the book back at a higher shelf and looked for a different one instead, Fobbo diligently waiting as he hugged her leg tightly in an act of quiet excitement. There was a book on the very top shelf that caught her eye and she pulled her wand out, flicking it slightly to summon the book to her. She looked at the cover and smiled, turning to Fobbo with it outstretched to him. “How about this one — Fobbo?”

He was gone.

“Oh dear…” she breathed, tucking the book under her arm and exiting the section and row, looking around, trying to find the dress-wearing fiend. And then she spotted him, sitting right across from Hermione, nodding and listening as the girl asked him questions. Atlas grimaced and walked over to them, dropping the book in front of Fobbo, interrupting their conversation. “Fobbo, you can’t be out here.”

“Why’s that Atty?” Hermione asked and Atlas turned to her, eyes slightly wide as she glanced around the room. 

“Fobbo…Fobbo can’t be here, Mi,” Atlas whispered.

“Is there a no-elf rule for the library?” Hermione questioned genuinely, looking around for a sign.

“No, it’s not that, it’s Fobbo specifically,” Atlas sighed, “But fine, it’s your head if he gets caught,” she said, hooking her hands beneath the elf’s arms and sitting him in her lap. “Anyway, this is the one Fobbo. You’ll like it.”

“Is it likes the one about Miss Shifter and Miss Noble?” Fobbo asked, swinging his legs excitedly. Hermione quirked a brow as she watched them, glancing at Atlas who smiled with a shrug and turned back to the book.

“Yeah, sort of, but it’s about a shifter and a witch this time, but, in this book, Miss Witch doesn’t know Miss Shifter is a shifter at all but they manage to fall in love regardless,” Atlas told, flipping through a few of the pages to show Fobbo the few illustrations within. “We as the reader watch as their relationship blooms and what happens when Miss Witch finds out Miss Shifter is a shifter.”

“Is it a bad ending, Miss Black? Fobbo doesn’t like bad endings,” Fobbo muttered, messing with his fingers anxiously. Atlas huffed with a small smile and went to speak but Hermione cut in, leaning over the table to take up Fobbo’s little hands in hers.

“I’ve read this one before Fobbo. There may be some really sad bits but there are happy bits as well and the ending is one of the best I’ve ever read,” Hermione smiled reassuringly and Atlas looked at her, chuckling lightly.

“There we have it Fobbo, Hermione’s an avid book reader, so you know her word is truth,” Atlas informed and Fobbo nodded enthusiastically, his ears flapping at the motion. “Now you best be going Fobbo, I see Madam Pince coming over and you don’t want her to see you, do you?”

“No Miss Black, Fobbo does not,” Fobbo mumbled and then jumped down from Atlas’s lap, turning to look at her and Hermione, giving them both a small little wave, “bye-bye Miss Black, bye-bye Miss Hermione.”

“Bye Fobbo,” Hermione smiled, giving the elf a small wave as he snapped his fingers and disappeared, presumably back to the kitchens so he could read. “He’s so sweet.”

“Yeah,” Atlas turned back to Hermione, “wonder where he gets it from.”

“Certainly not you.”

“I thought you thought I was gentle,” Atlas teased, throwing her a wink as she then sighed and cracked her back. “So that book, ‘The Witch and her Shifter’, you’ve read it?”

“In passing, there are many Muggle books like it,” Hermione said, closing her book and stacking it onto the pile that had a steady pour of books migrating from it and back to their shelves automatically, soaring over heads and diving between legs.

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s one, Beauty and The Beast. There’s also a movie based on it.”

“A movie?”

“Right, I forget I’m the most muggle thing you’ve ever met,” Hermione chuckled and Atlas flushed rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment, which was a new look for her and Hermione startled at the sight. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing.”

“I know, just…it sucks not being able to talk to you about your Muggle interests because of how sheltered I was from the Muggle world. Minerva bought a Television once but because of the signal barrier around the area, it…didn’t work,” Atlas murmured and Hermione stared at her a second before huffing with a soft smile.

“We’ll watch it this Summer.”

“You mean it?” Atlas asked, looking at her hopefully.

“Of course, we can do loads of Muggle things if you want?”

“That would be…nice,” Atlas smiled and then leant against her palm, giving Hermione her whole attention. “So what’s it about?”

“Pardon?” Hermione smiled, opening another Potions book.

“Beauty and The Beast?”

“Oh, well, it’s about a selfish Prince who is cursed to become a monster for the rest of his life, unless he learns to fall in love with a beautiful young woman he keeps prisoner,” Hermione told and Atlas scrunched up her face.

“That sounds…problematic, no?”

“I agree but most people think it’s a sweet story. Belle, the beautiful young woman, is a sort of outcast in her village because she reads books,” — Atlas cocks a brow — “it’s strange for the time period. Anyway, she gets kidnapped by The Beast but they slowly fall in love, he ends up letting her go because he loves her and she returns home to help her father to — ah, we should leave that there, I’ll end up telling you the whole story.”

“So…long story short, bookworm falls in love with a fluffy monster and vice versa?”

“Who said he was fluffy?”

“Is The Beast fluffy, Mi?”

“…yeah.”

Atlas grinned. “I look forward to watching it with you…is uh…is it one of your favourite books then?”

“Maybe, but it’ll never top The Chronicles of Narnia,” Hermione gushed.

“Oh? What are some of your other favourites?” 

“Matilda was a big one for me,” Hermione said and Atlas motioned for her to continue. “Well, it’s about a girl who reads a lot and develops powers as a result, as a kid I…well I wanted to be her so I read a lot and then, when my magic manifested, I thought it worked! I thought I’d actually become this book character,” She chuckled and Atlas smiled. “It really was a shock…how did your magic manifest?”

“Oh, I was five,” Atlas told and Hermione went slightly wide-eyed as Atlas laughed. “Yeah, early bird. I was out playing with Bella and accidentally restrained her, when we were playing tag, with the nearby tree roots, she still has the scar around her thigh. I started crying because Minerva always told me I wouldn’t get my powers until I was like nine and thought there was something wrong with me. And…my magic almost got the better of me…”

“What do you mean?”

“I almost destroyed the village,” Atlas murmured and Hermione startled but sought to shift the topic, sensing Atlas didn’t really want to dive any deeper into the happenstance, even though she really wanted to know what she meant by that. She had an inkling though, remembering the night in the Shrieking Shack when the windows had burst and the room had almost collapsed. 

“Well…”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have pictures of yourself when you were younger?”

“Yes and no you can’t see them,” Atlas smiled, Hermione huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Come on, I bet you were cute.”

“Oh, obviously, I just don’t want you seeing them,” Atlas remarked and Hermione groaned, going back to her books. Atlas laughed lightly and did the same, opening her Herbology tome to the page she had shut it on.

“Just so you know…”

“Hmm?”

“My parents say I was an adorable kid.”

“Of course you were.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“No, hey have I told you you look gorgeous today?”

“…study, Atty.”

“Yes, Mione.”

***

They were studying the Imperius Curse. In a practical, this time. Moody was going to cast it on each of them and see if they could resist it. To say Atlas was not too thrilled with the idea of having an unforgivable cast upon her was an understatement, she was sort of terrified actually. Though she knew Moody wouldn’t order them to do anything morally incriminating or too dangerous, willingly being put under by the curse was going against everything she had ever learnt. Every fibre in her body was screaming at her to run away, like a magnet to its identical pole. Two magical identities cut from the same cloth not wanting to clash with each other.

It would be held in a controlled environment of course and Moody was only doing it to demonstrate its effects to the class, however, it still had the hairs on the back of Atlas’s neck standing on end as she waited for her turn. Neville was before her, now performing a whole gymnastics routine he most certainly wouldn’t have been able to do should he have been in his normal state. The class would have been laughing if they weren’t too concerned with what would happen to them in their cursed state.

Neville stopped mid cartwheel and crumpled to the floor, Moody now pointing his wand at Atlas as she walked forward with a large frown. “Miss Magianima, I expect good things from you.”

“Right…” Atlas nodded unsurely, “yes sir.”

He seemed to take a moment before straightening. “Imperio!”

It was a terrible feeling that struck her. Well, actually it was blissful, weightless and wonderful but that’s exactly why it was so terrible, that was the problem. It was too good to be true. Everybody had worries. Everybody had things tugging at the back of their mind if they thought about it, but Atlas, for the life of her, couldn’t find anything and that was the pinch that woke her from the daydream. There was a sudden itch at her chest and Atlas grimaced, the relaxation she had been feeling forming into this sensation of doom.

There was a sudden voice, tickling at her ear. ‘Reveal your secret to the class.’

Atlas felt her mouth open, her body acting at the whim of Professor Moody as she felt the words build at the back of her throat.

‘Now, why would I do that?’ That tug had come back, she was finally feeling it at the back of her brain, the far corner of her consciousness.

‘Reveal yourself.’

‘I’d become the talk of the Daily Prophet again.’ Atlas clenched her teeth together and then shut her mouth entirely. If her secret got out — if everyone found out what she was, they’d be afraid again. She didn’t know that for certain of course, but she couldn’t risk it, what people might say. Might think. Sirius Black’s daughter being able to transform into a powerful creature at will, people would surely talk.

‘Speak!’

‘I’d be alienated!’

‘NOW!’

“I’m a — !” Atlas bit down on her lip, hard, a trickle of blood pooling down her chin as Moody relinquished his control of her. The class watched her in silence as she cupped her lip with her hand, looking at Moody, horrified. “Why did you do that?”

“I gave you something to fight for to confirm you’re Amaya Magianima’s daughter,” he walked forward, his fake leg thumping across the wooden boards. “She’d never spill her secrets, her darkest desires, greatest fears–” Moody made a weird motion with his tongue, licking his top lip in an almost habitual manner, though Atlas had never seen him do it before. He took a swig from his hip-flask,”–not even if she were tortured or imperiused. That’s what made her so reliable and…terrifying. A threat to Lord Voldemort and his followers, Death Eaters.”

“Do you realise what that would have done to me?” Atlas whispered fearfully, “If I hadn’t fought that, if that had gotten out–“

“But you fought it and you won,” he interrupted and turned to the class as a whole. “Now that was more like it! Wasn’t it?! Look at that, you lot! She fought it and beat it! Now, Potter! Next! Everybody pay attention to his eyes!”

Atlas took a step back, going over to her desk that had been pushed to the side of the room. She rummaged through her bag, trying to find her handkerchief to no avail. A hand entered her peripheral holding a piece of cloth decorated in Ausrumbas, she gently took it, turning to see Hermione smiling at her assuringly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Atlas looked down at the cloth a moment before sighing and giving it back, “I can’t ruin it.”

“I can clean it.”

“Blood stains.”

“Atty, we have magic.”

“But then it’ll smell like wet dog.”

“Well, I can wash the smell of…wet dog? Out of it.”

“Fine,” Atlas took it back, dabbing her bleeding lip gently with a tiny grimace. “Where did you even get it? It’s pretty.”

“My mum does embroidery. She figured I’d like the design,” Hermione told, sitting down beside her as Harry went through his fourth time being imperiused behind them. “It’s a shame I don’t know what the flower is.”

Atlas laughed lightly, jogging her lip. “You don’t?” Hermione shook her head. “Well you’re lucky Neville loves flowers so much, he talks to me about them all of the time.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“An Ausrumba.”

“A what?”

“Otherwise know as; Gentle Hermione,” Atlas remarked, Hermione went slightly wide-eyed and then chuckled, “They’re hybrid flowers, bred that way apparently. I don’t know, Neville sorta spit-fires whenever he talks about plants.”

“That so? It’s good he has something he’s passionate about,” Hermione smiled and Atlas nodded in agreement, fiddling with the handkerchief idly as she licked her lip. It had stopped bleeding and now the fabric had been dyed red by her blood. It was sort of beautiful actually, such a gorgeous design soiled in such a brutal splash of colour. 

“Hey, it looks sort of poetic now.”

“What?” Hermione laughed.

“The blood accompanied by the design, especially the flower choice. Maybe, irony? A Gentle Hermione covered in blood caused by a rash act of violence. Two opposites. Juxtaposition? Antithesis? I don’t know, I think I’m failing English.”

“Guys,” They both looked up, watching as Harry hobbled over to them and Ron stepped up to take his turn. “I need crutches.”

“Why did he make you do it so many times?” Atlas asked with a light huff.

“I don’t know but I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Here, use this when you’re done,” Atlas grinned as she held out Hermione’s handkerchief. Hermione snatched it from her and glared her way as Atlas simply laughed. “You know I wouldn’t, Mi.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Will you two stop flirting and take me to the hospital wing?”

“We’re not flirting!” Hermione said harshly, hitting Harry’s arm with a rolled-up bit of parchment.

“Walk it off, little brother.”

“I can’t walk, that’s the problem!”

“Sounds tough,” Atlas said and then turned, throwing her thumb in the direction of the middle of the classroom, “Oh look, Ron’s frolicking around the class.”

Ron tripped over Parvati Patil’s bag, promptly sending the three into a bout of laughter.