Chapter 83

A week later. The end of the school year. The supposed start of the two month Summer holiday Atlas had supposed to be spending with Hermione. Instead, she was in their dorm room, packing for an excursion with Alastor Moody, the really Moody, who was to be supervising her over the Summer, teaching her and working her so that she would be ready for whatever was to come. Dumbledore was insistent, no matter how hard Atlas had begged he did not let up and so, there she was, tossing all of her old training equipment in her new trunk, getting ready to leave the castle grounds for the first time in years but not for the reason she had wanted.

She would leave in the Hogwarts Express, Moody would pick her up from the station named King’s Cross, but that would be as far as she went with Hermione, with anyone, then she’d be gone, not a letter allowed to leave her hand. She would be isolated and kept away from her friends. They would be a distraction, Dumbledore had said, he had been shaken, apparently, by what Barty had said that night, about how powerless she was against Voldemort, so he wanted her to get better, to be better.

And Atlas could not refuse him, no matter how much she despised the idea of this budding war. No matter how badly she did not want to be part of it.

Loud clinks came from her trunk locks as she clamped them closed a mellow sigh leaving her as she set it on the floor next to Crookshanks, his beady eyes unmoving as he blinked slowly up at her. Atlas smiled and crouched, letting the guy sniff her hand before giving his head a soft scratch, he purred appreciatively and Atlas went back to packing, whisking her hand so her Agoniser would resume its stationary state and setting Kalo and Little Robin in their cage.

She nodded when she was finished, picking up her jumper from her bed and exiting. There was an assembly, one to commemorate the end of term. It had started a while ago but Atlas had only just gotten out of the hospital again so she was told to pack before she attended which she had done without complaint. In honesty she didn’t want to go, she knew what it would be about and she hadn’t really wanted to think about it. But there was no use hiding from it. It would catch up to her eventually.

The halls were silent as she walked, not a soul in sight, even the ghosts were at the assembly, out of respect Atlas supposed. Still, it was eerie and Atlas found herself humming a Muggle song to fill the silence. Soon she found herself in front of the Great Hall door, hearing Dumbledore’s voice through the great oak, loud and true, she waited until he fell silent, not wanting to interrupt him mid-sentence and then pushed inside.

All eyes turned to her.

She continued to the Gryffindor table, sitting next to Hermione, across from Harry who was by Ron, giving them each a small smile before grabbing her Goblet, a pit of apple juice appearing within it. She stirred it around, watching as it sloshed and spat upon her hand idly as the silence stretched thinner.

“Thank you for joining us, Atlas,” Dumbledore called and she ignored him, taking a sip of her drink to swallow down the sudden lump in her throat. “Cedric Diggory, was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Hufflepuff house,” He continued. “He was a good and loyal friend, a hard worker, he valued fair play. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not. I think that you have the right, therefore, to know exactly how it came about.”

Atlas raised her head and stared at Dumbledore. 

“Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort.”

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence. Atlas glanced around, hearing the whispers, the theories. She knew many had been talking that past week, had heard them speaking in the halls. Now, those whispers had all been demolished. Nobody would have guessed Voldemorts return to be the reason Cedric Diggory would no longer roam the halls of Hogwarts.

“The Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore resumed, “does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so – either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Cedric died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”

Every face in that hall was stunned and terrified, all of them staring at Dumbledore with their undivided and horrified attention. Everybody except from a few choice students. Over at the Slytherin table, Atlas saw Draco Malfoy muttering something to Crabbe and Goyle, smiles cutting across their faces. It made her stomach flip and her magic flare she forced her gaze away, instead, looking at Hermione, or well, the back of Hermione for she was among those giving Dumbledore their entire attention.

When everyone had gotten over the initial shock of it, Dumbledore continued, “The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened – of Lord Voldemort’s return – such ties are more important than ever before.”

Dumbledore looked from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. Krum, Atlas noticed, looked wary, almost frightened, as though he expected Dumbledore to say something uncivil.

“Every guest in this Hall,” Dumbledore said, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, “will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. And the pain, we all feel at this dreadful loss reminds me and reminds us, that while we may come from different places and speak in different tongues, our hearts beat as one.

“It is my belief – and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken – that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst. Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was kind and honest…and brave and true, right to the very end because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory.”

It was silent for a while and after a few brief moments of silence, Dumbledore dismissed them, bidding his final farewells for the summer. Atlas stood first at the Gryffindor table, leaving quickly without saying a word after casting a glance and a nod to Moody, the man standing at the staff table. He nodded back, his good eye fixed on her while his false eye roamed around frantically. Atlas couldn’t fault his paranoia.

They all waited in the crowded entrance hall after that, the chatter loud and obnoxious to Atlas as she sought out a quieter spot, sitting on a bench and glaring at a few first years who lingered. They ran, obviously, seeking sanctuary some place else and Atlas revelled in the peace, staring down and into her palms, finger tracing the initials carved into the now onyx ring on her right index finger.

A shadow loomed over her, waiting and rocking backwards and forwards on their feet so she looked up, surprised to see Zasha grinning down at her. The girl sat without invitation, rubbing up and down her thighs on some nervous tick before fully turning to face Atlas.

“It was good to see you again.”

“We didn’t really see much of each other, Zash.”

“You were busy with the tasks and I was busy with Ginny…it is not like we did not speak in the Common room,” Zasha shrugged and Atlas shook her head, sighing. “Though those conversations were short, I admit.”

“Are you going to keep in touch with Ginny?”

“Pardon?”

“You never responded to my letters, are you going to respond to Ginny’s?” Atlas asked and Zasha remained silent for a moment, staring down at her hands as she suddenly grew sombre, sheepish and guilty. “Zasha, answer my question. Because if you’re not planning on responding you should tell Ginny that after leading her on for the entire year –“

“My Uncle has adopted me.”

“…why are you telling me this?”

“After you left those many years ago…he came and took me from under Karkaroff’s care,” Zasha muttered and then looked out at the crowd. “He…was very close to my father and — and as you know…my parents were Death Eaters. He — World Holder, understand that I do not condone his actions –“

“Zash, I know, we talked about this ages ago,” Atlas eased. “Just tell me why you never responded…”

“…he does not wish for me to have relations with blood traitors…he — he wishes to join Lord Voldemort when the opportunity arises…” Zasha whispered and Atlas simply stared at her, reaching over to place a hand on her knee, eyes drifting to the chain she had around her neck. Atlas had made it for her when they were younger, they were connected through Atlas’s heartstone. “I fear he will make me do the same…”

“Zash –“

“So, I wish for you to know…that I do not — I am not truly one of his,” Zash muttered.

“…does Ginny know?”

“She does…which is why we are not together,” Zasha told, “we are liking each other…we told each other as much, but…I don’t wish for her to be harmed so — so I told her we could not be together.”

“I’m sorry, Zash…I — if I’d have known I would have tried to talk to you more this year. Are you — are you going to tell Fleur?”

“No…I do not wish to upset her, she is my bigger sister, yes? Just as you are to me, I — I will have no choice, understand? They will kill all that I love and have me watch. So, if one day…I am stood at the other end of your wand…promise you will not hate me?”

“That day won’t come,” Atlas said surely but Zasha seemed to disagree, her hand coming out to clutch Atlas’s wrist desperately.

“Promise me, World Holder.”

“…I promise.”

“Thank you,” Zasha smiled and then stood, going to leave. “I will bid you goodbye, there are others I must give my farewells to.”

“Alright…” Atlas nodded but then she stood also, grabbing out to catch her before she left. “Zash…why don’t you stay here? Don’t go back to your Uncle…you don’t owe him anything, I mean…you don’t even like him do you?”

“No, but –“

“So stay, live with Ginny, I’m sure Molly would be more than happy. We could see each other, all of the time, no need for owls. We could –“

“Atlas, he will find me…” Zasha frowned. “And I do not want to put the Weasley family in danger.”

“We could put protective charms around the –“

“I am marked by him,” Zasha stopped her again. “No matter what…he will know.”

“But –“

“Goodbye, World Holder.”

“Zash, wait!” But she was gone, like liquid through the crowd, Atlas stared and then slumped back into her seat, her head dropping into her hands. Everything was going wrong. “Goddamnit!” she felt the bench crack beneath her and hastily stood, glancing down to see a long ravine-like cavern in the stone. “Shit…”

“That’s some damage…” She turned and saw Harry, whistling lowly with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Come on…the carriages are leaving.”

“Harry…” Atlas breathed and sighed, rubbing her hands down her face. “Right, yeah, ok…”

“What happened?”

Atlas contemplated telling him, confiding in him about all that Zasha had said but she felt wrong in doing so, felt as if she was betraying Zasha’s trust. But if she did, could they help? They could tell someone so Zasha would be protected, so she would not have to go back to her Death Eater Uncle but at the same time, could it make it worse? Atlas did not know, so she remained silent, shaking her head silently, a look of conflict clear across her face.

“Alright,” Harry nodded, knowing something was up but sensing Atlas would not talk about it.

“…here,” Atlas pulled out the pouch of gold from her pocket, holding it out to Harry. “I meant to give this to you earlier.”

“I don’t want –“

“I know…I heard you were going to give yours to Fred and George…to help them with the Joke shop, so…give mine to them for me,” Atlas said and Harry looked at it silently before taking it with a heavy hand. “Thank you.”

There was a moment of silence between them as they walked, until of course, it was broken. Rather awkwardly, “So…you’re — er — you’re Frog. You’re an Animagus.”

“Yeah,” Atlas nodded, she saw no use in lying, Harry had seen her shift in the graveyard. There was one question on her mind, however, one tiny anxiety she had. “You haven’t…you haven’t told –“

“No. I would never,” Harry assured and Atlas nodded again, falling into a lapse of silence as they continued out of the entrance hall and to the carriages that awaited. Ron and Hermione were already sitting in one, bickering now and Atlas found she preferred the familiarity and by the look on Harry’s face, he did too as he smiled exasperatedly and climbed on, pulling Atlas up after him.

“Just throw it away before she comes!”

“I can’t just throw it away, Ronald! That’s littering!”

“So what!? One of the elves will come and grab it! Do it, quick!”

Hermione seemed to give in, throwing something over her shoulder and out of the carriage, unfortunately for her, Atlas caught it, looking curious as she unfolded the piece of paper, reading the address scrawled across its front. Clearly written for the purpose of owl delivery.

“What’s this?” She asked, sitting down beside Hermione. “An address?”

“You shouldn’t snoop, Atlas!” Hermione paled, lunging for the piece of parchment. Atlas leant out of the way, looking down at Hermione who was now practically in her lap. “Give it back!”

“You just threw it out though?” Atlas said but relented, handing it back so Hermione would back away. When it was in the girl’s hands once more, she ripped it to shreds, scrunched those shreds up into a ball and tossed it in a passing puddle so it would dissolve. Atlas watched the entire movement with her whole attention. “That was…a lot.”

“Who gave you the address?” Harry asked.

“Was it Krum?” Atlas added, looking genuinely curious.

“I…well — well, yeah…”

“Oh, well, did you tell him you can’t go? Is that why you shredded it?” Atlas took off her cloak, stripping off her jumper and undoing her tie to loosen the top buttons of her shirt. Harry held them while she sorted herself out, untucking her shirt and rolling up the cuffs of her trousers so her uniform adopted a more casual look, she no longer looked prim and proper, more dishevelled and messy.

“Yeah, he gave in quite quickly after I told him off,” Hermione told, watching Atlas’s every move.

“Told him off?”

“For what he said to you in the forest.”

“Oh…you did?” Atlas muttered and Hermione nodded. “Thank you…I — I appreciate you defending me.”

“It’s not an issue.”

“You should have seen his face,” Ron grinned, leaning forward, “When Hermione slapped him –“

“Ron!”

“You slapped him?” Harry huffed, seemingly astonished.

“Oh yeah, she did! It was priceless!”

“Ronald!”

When they arrived at the station, the conductor blew his final whistle, shouting his last call for the train. Atlas, Harry, Hermione and Ron boarded the Hogwarts Express, finding a compartment all for themselves. Atlas sat down tentatively, looking around with blatant curiosity. It was the first time she had been on the train, her first time seeing the interior in its entirety. She had seen it the year prior, waving off Harry, Ron and Hermione and the years before that, saying goodbye to…Cedric but she had never actually been inside. It was new and Atlas felt a sad bittersweetness that threatened to turn sour at the thought of her late brother. He had always been excited for the day they rode the train together.

She shook away those thoughts and stared out of the window, watching as the scenery changed, transfixed by the outside world. Harry, Hermione and Ron briefly chattered around her, all about what actions Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort. It seemed much easier for Harry to talk about now which relieved Atlas, it really did but she still didn’t think she should join the conversation just yet, or rather, didn’t think she could. 

It was still too sore, she had avoided thinking about the boy for the past week and though she knew there was no use in ignoring all talk about Cedric Diggory, she just couldn’t deal with it right now, not after that assembly with Dumbledore. So she remained silent, playing with Crookshanks idly while Kalo and Little Robin sang quiet tunes over the chatter. The Agoniser was in her trouser pocket, inanimate and resting so she made sure not to jog the poor little lady when she shifted every now and then.

The only time she pulled her gaze away from the window was when the lunch trolley arrived. She hadn’t had any breakfast that morning so she pulled out a few Galleons, perusing through the items Miss Mason had for sale. Hermione got up with her, sending her a small smile as she picked out a sandwich and went back to her trunk. Atlas remained to stare over at her quietly a moment but turned away a second later, rubbing the space between her brows.

“Would you rather have a chocolate bar, Atlas?” Miss Mason asked kindly. 

“Yes, please, Ma’am,” Atlas nodded, sorting through her Galleons, however, the lady shook her head, handing her the bar of Honeydukes chocolate without even reaching for a penny. “Miss Mason?”

“Take it as payment for the logs last summer, Atlas. They’ve lasted me a good while,” she smiled, rolling her trolley off further down the train as she gave her that friendly wink old folk always gave their grandkids after handing them some secret pocket money. Atlas peered out of the compartment and watched her go, looking down at the chocolate bar in her hand as she sunk back into her seat.

She was surprised by the gesture, sure, Miss Mason was kind, she always waved at Atlas when she used to live in Hogsmeade — they had been neighbours — and yes, Atlas always chopped her firewood but this was out of the blue, she didn’t even know Miss Mason worked the trolley on the Hogwarts Express, she just thought the kind old woman worked behind the till at Honeydukes.

“How come you get free chocolate?” Ron asked.

“I chop logs for Miss Mason since she can’t do it anymore,” Atlas replied and then snapped a piece off, handing it to the boy who took it eagerly with a muffled thanks, she offered some to Harry and he did the same, finally turning to Hermione. But the girl was already staring at her, smiling gently with a Daily Prophet in her hands. “What is it?”

“You really are kind, Atlas.”

“Oh, I…yeah,” Atlas nodded and then shrugged. “Cedric got me into it…”

“It was a good idea,” Hermione muttered softly.

“Yeah, he was full of them,” Atlas murmured, her hand tightening around her chocolate bar. She suddenly didn’t feel like eating. “Can I do the crossword in that?” she asked, instead, tucking the bar into her pocket and pointing at Hermione’s newspaper. “To pass the time.”

“Of course,” Hermione smiled. She handed it to her and Atlas reached in her bag to find her quill and ink but Hermione stopped her, reaching down her shirt and holding her quill tip towards her. Atlas took it carefully and swiped through until she found the crossword. “There’s nothing in it, Harry.”

Atlas looked up, finding Harry staring at her in concern.

“Sorry, I just…couldn’t help but worry it might say something,” Harry murmured and Atlas understood. She hadn’t really thought about it to be honest, but she was glad Hermione had confirmed there wasn’t anything in it, one word about…what had happened and she didn’t know how she might react.

“I’ve been checking but…nothing,” Hermione told. “Nothing about any of it. If you ask me. Fudge is forcing them to keep quiet.”

“He’ll never keep Rita quiet,” Harry refuted, Atlas tried to sink into the crossword but her mind just wouldn’t let her. “Not on a story like this.”

“Oh, Rita hasn’t written anything at all since the third task,” Hermione said in an odd voice “As a matter of fact,” she added, her voice now trembling slightly, “Rita Skeeter isn’t going to be writing anything at all for a while. Not unless she wants me to spill the beans on her.”

“What are you talking about?” Atlas asked. She couldn’t help herself and sat the newspaper down.

“I found out how she was listening in on private conversations when she wasn’t supposed to be coming onto the grounds,” Hermione said in a rush, as if she had been holding it in for quite some time, perhaps days but had restrained herself after everything that happened.

“How was she doing it?” Harry asked.

“How did you find out?” Ron added.

“Well, it was you, really, who gave me the idea. Atlas,” she said and Atlas’s brows rose.

“This is why you wanted to kiss me?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to — look, Rita Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn,” — Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of another bag — “into a beetle.”

Atlas saw the quick glance Harry shot her but remained to stare at the beetle, noticing the distinctive marks that represented those horrible glasses the woman wore. “She’s telling the truth…those are Rita’s glasses, you can see them in the beetle’s pattern.”

“I caught her on the windowsill in the hospital wing,” Hermione said, beaming. But Atlas did not share the sentiment.

While, Harry, Ron and Hermione bounced back and forth off of each other, mentioning each time they had seen the beetle and what news followed in the paper the next day, Atlas remained to stare at the jar, her fingers twitching, hands aching and longing to grab the container, to force Rita out and turn her back so she could ask her how? Why she had used her powers to harm others? To torment her throughout her childhood?

“Atlas, you’re making it snow,” Hermione sounded, putting the jar hastily in her bag and leaning over to brush a few snowflakes from her friend’s hair. “Are you ok?”

The door of the compartment slid open, however, and Atlas did not have time to reply.

“Very clever. Granger,” said Draco Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were standing behind him. All three of them looked more pleased with themselves, more arrogant and more threatening than Atlas had ever seen them. “So,” he began slowly, advancing slightly into the compartment and looking slowly around at them, a smirk on his lips. “You caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter’s Dumbledore’s favourite boy again. Big deal.”

His smirk widened. Crabbe and Goyle leered.

“Trying not to think about it, are we?” Malfoy said softly, looking around at all four of them. Atlas twitched, her arm starting to quiver. Hermione reached out and took her hand, glaring at Draco. “Trying to pretend it hasn’t happened?”

“Get out, Draco,” Hermione snapped.

“I don’t take orders from a Mudblood,” Draco sneered and Atlas finally stood, looking down on the boy, her fists clenched. She had not been this close to the boy and his goons since seeing him sniggering in the Great Hall during Dumbledores speech about Cedric and that anger was all coming back to her. It was going to spill and she wouldn’t need a wand to finish them. “What’s wrong, Black. Isn’t your family motto ‘Toujours Pur’? What? Not gonna pull your wand on me this time? Oh, that’s right, you don’t have one.”

The boy seemed unperturbed by Atlas’s clenched fists and heavy jaw and leaned to look at Harry, grinning now.

“You’ve picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!” He jerked his head at Ron, Hermione and Atlas. “Too late now. Potter! They’ll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord’s back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well – second – Diggory was the first –“

Atlas grabbed his head and brung it down, hard, against her knee, so heavily she heard a sickly crack as blood spattered through the fabric of her trousers, she shoved him afterwards so he collided with the window opposite and punched him square across the face. Then, Crabbe lunged for her, grabbing thin air as she stepped out of the way and seized his head to smash it against the compartment divider, knocking a few of his teeth out. Goyle stared a moment, glancing down at both Malfoy and Crabbe before pulling out his wand.

But Atlas was already there, in front of him, her hand clasped around his wand as she snapped it with a mere jerk of her fingers, he paled, blubbering and mouthing words soundlessly, too bewildered to string his words together. A sharp hook to the side of his head had him slumped to the floor, Atlas glaring, shoulders heaving while heads started poking out of compartments. She wiped her arm across her mouth and leant down, grabbing the handkerchief protruding from Malfoy’s pocket to wipe the blood from her knuckles. 

“Tell your dad I said hi, Malfoy.”

Then she threw the handkerchief at him and went back into their compartment, slamming the door behind her as she slumped back into her seat, staring out of the window. Harry, Ron and Hermione – who were stood with their wands raised, apparently intent on hexing the Slytherins – stared at her silently before sitting in their own seats as well, silence blanketing them.

“Well — er — who needs wands when you have your fists?” Ron said, attempting to ease the tension. “Seriously…with that offence, does Atlas really need to train under Moody for the entire summer? I think she’s got it in the bag.”

“Atlas…” Hermione leant over and shook the girl’s knee, garnering her attention. “Let me see your knuckles.”

“Why?”

“As a person who has punched Draco Malfoy, I know how hard his head is and how badly swollen my knuckles were the next day,” Hermione sighed. Atlas stared at her and then relented, showing the girl her knuckles. They were not yet bruised but they had grown quite red, little specks of blood still upon them. The girl took them, pulling out her wand and lighting the tip of it up with a warm glow as she hovered the light over the reddened area.

Outside their compartment, Crabbe and Goyle were awakening, scrambling to their feet as they each took one of Draco’s arms and dragged him away, probably to the Slytherin compartment and while Harry and Ron watched that, Atlas could not stop staring at Hermione and Hermione, in turn, did not stop tending to Atlas’s hands.

When the Hogwarts Express pulled into King’s Cross, a station in London, the four of them were some of the last to get off, grabbing their stuff and taking them out to set on trolleys. Atlas found herself admiring the station, finding that it smelt quite weird but otherwise looked beautiful and then her gaze dropped to find Moody in the distance, standing by the exit with his cane in front of him. They stared at each other and he nodded, walking out through the wall, a clear signal for her to follow.

However, she had not yet said her goodbyes.

So, quickly, she turned to Ron and the rest of the Weasley’s, hugging Ron and not having much say when the twins pulled her into their own embrace, thanking her for the money quietly — Atlas figured Harry had given them their winnings at some point on the train — then she found Ginny ambling over to her, looking dejected and far off so she ended up being the one to pull her into the hug, kissing the top of her head.

“She’ll be ok. You’ll see each other again,” she whispered and Ginny hugged tighter, burying her face in her shoulder.

“I hope so…”

Then, Atlas walked over to Hermione, the girl stood with her parents who beamed at the sight of her.

“You must be, Atlas!” Mrs Granger beamed and pulled her into a quick hug.

“That’s me,” Atlas smiled politely, hugging back and doing the same when Mr Granger opened his arms. 

“You’re the one with the spectacular teeth, I hear,” Mr Granger laughed.

“Hermione has told us so much — !”

“She has to go, mum,” Hermione interrupted, looking quite flushed as she pulled Atlas off to the side. “Sorry about them,” she murmured as Atlas sent the pair a polite wave, the two watching her and Hermione talk. “Just…please, pretend they’re not there for the moment.”

“They’re cute,” Atlas said, waving again when Mrs Granger continued to smile and wave.

“Please stop waving,” Hermione blushed, grabbing Atlas’s arm so that she would drop it to her side. “You should get going.”

“No, ‘I’ll miss you’ this time?” Atlas asked with a faint smile.

“You already know I will,” Hermione sighed and then frowned, looking into her hands and fiddling with her fingers.

“Don’t think about it…we’ll hang out next summer, ok? You can show me Beauty and The Beast and I can finally give you that book I annotated for you. I’ll even do another one for you over the summer,” Atlas promised, Hermione looked up at her, still saddened but smiling. “There’s the smile that’ll conquer hearts, might want to drop it though so your parents don’t see you shortened your teeth.”

“So you did notice!”

“I didn’t want to say…” Atlas muttered. “You look pretty, either way, Mi. It didn’t make a difference to me, as long as you’re happy. But, if my opinion does matter…you’re truly astonishing and knock the breath out me every time I see you.”

“You’re so smooth you know?” Hermione grinned, punching her shoulder. 

Atlas smiled slightly and then just stared, remaining silent for a moment before: “…stay safe, Mi, alright?”

“Yeah, always. Why?”

“Just…” A flicker of pain darted across Atlas’s eyes before she pulled the girl into a strong hug, just holding her for a moment, silently. “Please be ok…”

“Yeah…Atty, of course. You too.”

“I don’t care about me.”

“I do, idiot,” Hermione huffed, pulling away but frowning at the look on Atlas’s face. “Hey…how about you take my necklace, then –“

“No,” Atlas stepped back, swallowing solidly. “You — you wear it.”

“Ok…ok, yeah,” Hermione nodded quickly, taking a step forward and cupping Atlas’s hands in hers. “I’ll take my wand with me. Everywhere. I promise…”

“Right, yeah,” Atlas nodded and closed her eyes, rubbing between her brows. “I’m sorry, I just…” she sighed, smiling sadly as she leant down, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you…” she murmured and pulled away.

She turned and left, clenching her fist, hard around Cedric’s ring as she pushed her trolley over to Harry. He was standing with his Uncle, the man very purple in the face and eyeing her approaching form severely. She stopped and pulled Harry into a hug, muttering her goodbyes and ruffling his hair, kissing his temple and then, finally, turning to look down on Vernon Dursley. A man she had heard Harry talk about with a passionate hatred.

“Mr Dursley.”

“That’s me, who are you?” He asked in a way that was almost accusing.

“I’m Atlas Magianima Black, Harry’s god-sister,” Atlas explained, her tone cold and then she leant forward, showing her too-sharp canines as she smiled menacingly, her eyes shifting so they adopted their unnatural golden hue. “Treat him well, yeah? I see a scratch on him and you’re done.”

“Mad…” Vernon muttered, backing away and walking to the exit, “Completely mad…” Harry stifled his laughs and blew Atlas a mock kiss, jogging to catch up with his Uncle. Then, when a few moments had passed, Atlas followed, turning to Moody when she stopped in the middle of the Muggle King’s Cross.

“Said your goodbye’s, Atlas?”

“Yeah, thanks for waiting Moody,” she turned to him, smiling tiredly but gently, her hand out towards him. “It’s good to finally meet you.”

“…” he eyed the hand severely a moment and then took it, shaking it firmly. “It’s good to meet you, as well, Atlas. Your mother spoke fondly of you, every shift we took. It was incredibly distracting, quite a hindrance.”

“Let’s hope I won’t be a hindrance to you now.”

“Hope is a construct, results is what you need to produce in order to prove you won’t be a burden.”

“Then…I will bring you results.”

“Let’s hope so.”

“Didn’t you just say — ?”

Moody smacked her in the shin with his cane.

“Constant vigilance!”