Chapter 85

Darkness ruled the room, two faint balls of gold gliding around the space, pacing, occasionally stopping, looking to their only window, tinted and faintly letting the setting sunlight beyond through and into the gloom. It was hot, sweltering, the room like a furnace as the figure moved throughout it, muttering under their breath, shouldering past swinging bags fixed in the ceiling and wiping droplets of sweat from their face. They continued, walking in circles, eyes flickering from gold to brown.

And then, the door opened and a light burst to life, illuminating the room at once. Atlas stopped, her eyes cooling as she glanced up, standing straighter. She was taller now, harder in her features, sweat cascading down her bare abdomen and gathering at her navel, her hairs stuck to her forehead — the side of her face, and it was shorter, no longer resting on her shoulders as it now stopped just past her jaw. There was a way in which she held herself that was different and as she unbound her hands from the wrappings she wore, Moody stepped inside, clawed foot clinking as he did.

They remained silent, Atlas watching the man as he took a swig from his hipflask, magical eye whizzing around the room and fixing on her. She waited, sitting down next to a shelf holding an assortment of artefacts, all used in some way to detect disturbances or evil, to protect their user, some were broken, some weren’t put together, some looked brand new. They had been Amaya’s things. They were sat in Amaya’s old quarters, left alone in one of Moody’s safe houses.

It was where Atlas had been staying, where she had been studying all summer, trying to control her Fear, learning new spells with wands unregistered to the Ministry and she was good, her spells were good but they were not Atlas. Because those wands were not hers. They were not the wand that sang to her and connected with her soul, her magic, they did not know exactly what she wanted and produced results that were essentially right but so wrong.

She dusted off the hem of her shorts, fiddling with the frayed fabric as she waited.

“We’re going to dinner, tonight. As a meeting before you go back to school tomorrow.” Moody said finally and Atlas looked up, jumping to her feet. 

“And, what of Harry’s trial? They didn’t expel him, did they? He had a right to protect himself from that Dementor. You said you would finally tell me before our first dinner,” Her voice was sharper, harsher, there was an edge to it that covered the usual playful and soft note it held.

“He was let off,” Moody growled, shuffling through a drawer and pulling out a pile of clothes, Amaya’s clothes, they were old but in good condition and Atlas had taken a few other garments for Hogwarts. Moody certainly wouldn’t be able to wear them. “Here, shower and get changed, I want you to go to the shop…Muggles stare too much…draws attention to me.”

“Was it the scars that caught their eye? Because if so I don’t think I’ll be treated much different,” Atlas said, motioning to her own scarred face. Moody did not respond. “Anything notable happen? You’ve told me Percy has switched sides, right hand to the Minister and I already know about Dumbledore losing his place in the Wizengamot as Chief Warlock because of his insistence that Voldemort is back, it was all over the Daily Prophet.”

“The Order –“

“I meant in general. I don’t want any part in the Order.”

“And what if the Order wants part of you, eh? You don’t have a choice, Atlas,” Moody growled and Atlas wavered, her mouth clamping shut as her eyes flared a nasty gold. “Dumbledore has ordered you have no part in the Order throughout the summer…but that time is coming to an end…the Order needs new blood and you are leagues ahead of your peers. I’m sorry, Atlas…but that is Dumbledore’s word and I trust it. Just as your mother did.”

“Yes and look where she is,” Atlas snapped, gesturing to the room around them. Amaya’s old room. “Oh right! Nowhere to be seen because she’s dead, Moody! She’s dead,” she snarled, rubbing her hands down her face as she grabbed a towel from her trunk and moved for the bathroom. “I’m going for a shower.”

“Take your wand!”

“To the shower?”

“Have I taught you nothing?” Moody spat. Atlas relented and grabbed one of the spare wands from her mother’s old workbench, tucking the clean clothes under her arm to keep them close and ready as she stepped into the bathroom.

A light orange dusted across Atlas’s face as she stepped out and into the Muggle neighbourhood Moody had planted his oldest safehouse, she stopped and held her nose to the sky, taking in a deep breath of fresh air as she then turned and set off down the road, idly fixing cracks she saw in the pavement and filling holes that were in the road. These things she could do, using an unregistered wand meant she was not traced, none of her magic was recorded and reported to the Ministry as Underaged Wizardry. It was handy, yet she still longed for her wands return.

There were a few stray cats around that she eyed, smiling softly at and then turning away so she could cross a road. The corner shop came into view and she jogged over to it, stepping inside with her small list in hand, Moody had scrawled it out before she left and thrust it into her palm before retreating further into the house to do whatever he did when Atlas went out. It was messily written but Atlas managed, grabbing a few snacks and bags of crisps, seemingly for the dinner they would be going to.

The dinner at Grimmauld Place. She had not been there since the start of summer when the Order had had their first meeting and it had been horrible. The place was in a state of ruin, wallpaper peeling with a constant stench of death stagnant in the air, critters would crawl across you in your sleep, the odd creature biting you as you walked by. The number of rows she had gotten into with her grandmother’s portrait was deplorable and by Merlin, Kreacher was the most insufferable thing, Atlas didn’t think even Hermione could get her to like him. 

Hermione.

Atlas stopped, her hand pausing around a Muggle snack named Walkers. It had hit her, she would be seeing Hermione. The Weasley’s as well and her dad, Harry, she was going to see all of them, after 2 months away without a letter between them. She’d been alone with Moody and now she’d be able to see her friends again. Atlas grinned, for the first time in a very long time and hurried over to the til, dumping the snacks on the counter while the girl behind the till rang them up.

“You’re looking happy.”

“Pardon?” Atlas blinked out of her daze, looking up at the girl. They looked to be the same age, the girl probably in school as well. The cashier smiled, putting the items into plastic bags as she chewed on a piece of gum.

“That’s seven pounds forty-three pence. I said, you look happy.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m seeing my friends after not being able to talk to them for the past two months,” Atlas informed, pulling out her wallet to shuffle through her Muggle money, the clinking of her Galleons quite loud in the muted din of the shop.

“No contact for two months, were you grounded or something?”

“No, I was training,” Atlas muttered, looking back at the girl curiously.

“You workout then? What do you do?”

“Yeah, I guess…my instructor is harsh, has me train for six hours and then study for two, other hours are on me,” She continued, and the cashier’s eyes widened.

“Seriously?” Atlas nodded, picking out a few pennies and ten pence pieces to match up to the total she’d given. “That’s hardcore, really impressive…”

“Uh…thank you,” Atlas nodded and then handed the girl the change, tucking the wallet in her back pocket and grabbing the handles of the plastic bags. “Thanks again, have a good –“

“Hold on, would you be interested in grabbing a bite to eat?”

“Oh — uh — well, I have that dinner to go to tonight,” Atlas said, shuffling her weight from foot to foot. “I don’t think I’d be able to.”

“Sometime in the week then? Could be the weekend.”

“I have school.”

“Same?”

“I go to a boarding school,” Atlas smiled, “in Scotland.”

“Oh…well…” The girl blinked, lost for words so Atlas excused herself again, offering a short apology as she left and started back down the road. 

It was a lot darker now, not quite night but the sky was steadily adopting a greying colour over the orange hue, so she picked up the pace, settling into a light jog that rustled her bags in the silence, a few cars drove by and Atlas watched them, unashamed to show her fascination. She rounded a corner, continuing past the house of the little old lady she often saw at the bus stop on her morning jogs, then past a garden, bountiful and bright with rows and rows of flowers, a house decorated with the brightest colours was next, all pastel and kept nicely and then through the street just one over from hers, adorned with a large playground, still inhabited despite the darkening sky.

She reached her road, seeing Moody’s silhouette in the distance, his cane in hand and clawed foot tapping against the asphalt impatiently, Atlas felt an eye on her and assumed the man had noticed her presence so she waved, her bag rustling in the wind.

He turned to her when she got close enough, handing her her Firebolt with a grunt of disapproval. Atlas didn’t offer an excuse, knowing the man wouldn’t respond if she did, sometimes she did tell him stories though, like about the time she had almost been run over by a very angry Muggle and ended putting a dent in his car. That story was perhaps one of the only ones Moody had responded to, which had been with a short laugh.

She mounted it, tucking the bags in her jacket and zipping it up. She noticed Moody had her trunk strapped to the carrier of his broom, Kalo and Little Robin’s empty cage right next to it. Those two had probably left in advance, Moody usually let them out to fly in the afternoons so he’d definitely told them the plan, they might even be at Grimmauld before them, it wouldn’t surprise Atlas, Kalo was really fast and he usually carried Little Robin with him where ever they went because the little guy couldn’t keep up.

“We go, on three,” Moody growled and Atlas nodded, kissing her ring and hugging her body to her broom, “One…two…three –“

Atlas was the first in the air. She was always the first. And she climbed up and up so she was level with the clouds, Moody in her dust. She flew as she always did, steady, fast and with ease, across and over the towns below, the lights reflecting in the depths of her eyes as she looked down. It was cold up there and her hands grew numb, they tingled and Atlas marvelled at the sensation, finding herself relieved that she was experiencing a different numbness from the one she had felt throughout the summer.

The numbness Moody had been teaching her to control. But now was not the time to think about that, no, in the air she was free she felt great and she let all her worries drift along with the wind. The scene below her constantly changed, it shifted and morphed and Atlas watched it all, laying against her broom lazily and letting her hair whip against her face. Moody caught up at some point, berated her for how she rode her broom but Atlas waved him off and continued, even going so far as to stand upon the wood. That really sent Moody round the bend.

A certain road below came into view and Atlas dove, Moody behind her so that they landed in a shadowy garden, hidden from lights. Moody snatched her broom from her and she smiled sheepishly, taking the trunk that he tossed at her and dragging it across the road, she spotted Kalo and Little Robin waiting on a lamp post and whistled them down so that they settled on her shoulder.

It was a quiet night, not even a stray cat in sight, Atlas thought of Grimmauld place and watched as it made itself known, the houses surrounding it, shaking and shuddering but their inhabitants didn’t seem to realise, too busy watching their televisions or sleeping. Lucky for the two of them. Moody stumped forward and Atlas followed, dragging her trunk up the stairs as he knocked and Lupin opened the door. He eyed Moody and then dropped his gaze upon Atlas, suddenly grinning widely.

“Atlas.”

“Uncle Remus,” Atlas sighed out, leaving her trunk and running up to meet him, throwing her arms around his neck. They were the same height now, so she did not need to stretch up upon her tiptoes. “It’s so good to see you…”

“Likewise,” she pulled away after he kissed the top of her hair. “Atlas, I’m…I’m so deeply sorry about what happened to –“

A pit formed in Atlas’s stomach, her face dropping as the memories came flooding back to her, but she shut them down before they could consume her, drown her and drag her into the pit of despair that had parked itself in her soul. Just as she had been doing that entire summer.

“How have you been?” She interrupted. She could feel Moody’s eyes on her, his magical one surveying the temperament of her magic and she could see the shift in Remus’s features, the realisation. “Didn’t send me a letter once last year.”

“Yes, well…being a werewolf doesn’t grant one many job opportunities so I didn’t have an address to…receive your letters to last year,” Remus smiled but Atlas frowned.

“You got kicked out of your house?”

“I didn’t have the money to pay for it, Moody allowed me one of his safehouses but I’m afraid regular owls don’t very much like his homes,” Remus said and Moody grunted, grabbing Atlas’s trunk to pull it into the house. “Should we go inside? Nobody knew you were coming.”

“Uh, yeah…sure,” Atlas nodded, following him in and by Merlin it looked so much better. The past two months of cleaning had really done it some justice, it looked livable, actually, and there were no critters and creatures running about, save for the great big ball of fur that practically pounced on Atlas as soon as she set a foot inside the home.

Crookshanks purred and mewled against her cheek and Atlas smiled, hugging him gently while he got himself comfortable in her jacket, which earnt a very plastic rustle. Atlas had forgotten all about the snacks Moody had told her to buy and grabbed them from inside her jacket so that Crookshanks could sit in a more comfortable position. Kalo and Little Robin took that as their cue to leave, flying up and to Atlas’s room.

“Ah, so that was what was in there. I did think you looked rather pregnant,” Remus smiled and Atlas withheld her laughter, knowing her grandmother’s painting was just down the hall, mumbling obscenities and getting ready for another good scream. “You’ve grown, Atlas…taller and dare I say…you look quite mature.”

“I’m almost sixteen.”

“Still, when your mother was sixteen she had a remarkable babyface,” Remus told and then nodded as if recalling a memory, “Yes…I remember you’re mother only maturing in the face when she turned eighteen.”

“Oh dear…” Atlas sighed, shaking her head in subtle disbelief as they ventured further inside so that they could hear clearly, the voices of the dining room, all celebratory and congratulating, there was quite a few as well, a number she hadn’t expected. “What’s going on, by the way?”

“I’m sure you’ll find out,” Remus said and opened the kitchen door. 

Atlas nodded in thanks and walked inside, setting the bags on the dining table so that everybody stopped what they were doing and slowly turned to her, food dropping from mouths, glasses slipping from fingertips, eyes bulging, grins blinding. However, Atlas was paying attention to the banner above the table, reading it silently before turning back to the table as a whole.

“Hermione and Ron are Gryffindors prefects? Congrats you two,” She smiled and it was those two and Harry that ran forward first. 

Crookshanks had to jump free from her jacket because Harry had tackled her in a hug that Ron had soon joined, the two trying but ending up unsuccessful when they tried to lift her. She was several inches taller than Harry and though Ron was still taller than her, he was still as gangly as ever, so it was to be expected.

A cheer rippled throughout the kitchen, whistles and shouts of excitement ruling the room and when Ron and Harry pulled away, going to bombard her with questions, she was no sooner tackled in another hug, this time by a much shorter figure that buried their face in her jacket, arms tight around her as she was soon welcomed by the smell of old parchment, syrup and melted chocolate — that smell of peaches Atlas would forever link to Hermione Granger.

“I missed you…”

“I missed you too, Mi.”

Hermione pulled away and looked up at her, eyes slowly widening and cheeks flushing as Atlas just stared because Hermione had changed, her face matured but in a way that was still soft, her freckles were a lot more prominent now, unlike Atlas’s that had faded over time — and she, well, she was stunning. Not like she hadn’t been before but, the lipstick was back and Atlas could not stop staring.

“You — you cut your hair,” Hermione stuttered breathily, pulling away. Atlas felt the instant cold and restrained herself from pulling the girl back into a hug, instead, she nodded, running her hand through it on instinct.

“Yeah…it’s uh — does it look stupid?”

“No, no, you look — !”

“Hot!” Another ginger streak came sailing at her, but this time the ginger main was Ginny Weasley, the girl grinning as she threw herself into Atlas’s arms and wrapped her legs around her waist. Atlas held her tightly so that she would not fall and quickly planted a foot behind her so that she would not stumble backward. “Atlas, I’ve missed your stupid face! Merlin’s balls you’re taller and…holy cricket!” Atlas grunted when Ginny punched her abdomen, reeling slightly at the sudden and very heavy attack, “Sorry but wow, have you gotten stronger? Leaner? Hermione, feel –“

“What? No!” Hermione flushed, snatching her wrist from Ginny’s hand.

“Ginevra Weasley! Would you please refrain from pouncing and assaulting poor Atlas!” Molly shouted scoldingly, her wooden spoon raised as she pressed her other hand to her hip, standing in all her apron-wearing glory. She set the spoon down, smiling wide as she ambled over to the reunion, arms open as she beckoned Atlas into a hug. “Atlas, my dear, it’s so good to see you,” — she made a sudden high pitched noise when Atlas fell away from the hug — “so, so, handsome, oh it’s such a shame you’re not interested in Ginny, I would have loved you as my daughter-in-law.”

“Oh, wow…” Atlas blanched as Ginny paled, looking suddenly rather ill.

“Me? Dating Atlas? Mum, are you feeling alright?” Ginny grimaced as Molly tutted and slapped her shoulder scoldingly, “I’m serious, that’s like…so wrong. Atlas has the disposition of an older sister!”

“Oh, wow,” Atlas uttered again.

“She does not,” Hermione refuted, arms crossed.

“Hermione, I think you’re the only one that doesn’t see Atlas as a big sister,” Ginny huffed and Atlas furrowed her brows, turning to Hermione inquisitively.

“What do you see me as?”

“Well…of course I see you as — er — someone very close…like family? But…not?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Atlas stated blandly and Hermione flinched, chuckling very nervously. Lucky for her, a sudden voice sounded over the chatter, awed and so delighted just as Atlas was when she heard the words of her father upon her ear.

“Well if it isn’t my Little Star.”

She turned, grinning as she ran over to her dad, the man a couple of inches shorter as he accepted her with open arms, a beaming smile on his face. “Dad!”

“Hello, sweetheart,” he breathed, hugging her tightly, fiercely. “It’s so good to see you again…did Moody treat you well? Have you — have you made any progress? How have you been holding up over the summer? Oh, you’ve grown so much…and I didn’t get to see it happen…again.”

“Dad…” Atlas pulled away, smiling softly but sadly, “Moody treated me well…I haven’t made any progress, I — I’ve been holding up though, I’ve been — I’ve been all right…and I haven’t grown that much, old man…I think you’re just getting shorter with age.”

“Ha! No respect for your dear old dad!” He grinned, suddenly lighter. “Just like me! I couldn’t be prouder!”

The celebrations continued after that, new faces accepting Atlas openly. The girl was sitting between Hermione and Ginny, Tonks opposite them beside Harry and Ron, pulling faces and turning her nose into that of different animals. She was a metamorphagus, something Atlas greatly admired as she watched her cousin with her whole undivided attention, asking eager questions throughout the beginning of the celebration.

Then she was talking to Kingsley Shaklebolt a little while later, the man detailing adventures he had been on with Amaya, occasionally having partnered up with the woman and Moody on big investigations, most commonly on raids during the first wizarding war. Atlas had been intrigued at first, enamoured but then Kingsley went on about Voldemort, getting lost in some odd memory and he would have continued, spiralled down that path if Remus and her dad hadn’t stepped in, muttering something between them.

After that, Kingsley had apologised and stepped away, leaving Atlas to stare at her dad and uncle, the two of them sharing a look as they then slapped smiles on their faces and talked about a few nonsense things, stuff that made Atlas smile and forget about her conversation with Kingsley. She was soon left to a conversation between Ron and Tonks, the boy detailing all of the things about the new broom he had gotten from Molly as a present for becoming prefect.

“I mean, it’s nothing like your Firebolt Atlas, but I reckon it could put up a good fight for the first few minutes of a match,” Ron grinned and Atlas nodded, smiling.

“Why don’t we test that theory during try-outs? That is, if you are trying for the team,” Atlas said and Ron beamed even wider, apparently ecstatic at the idea of racing Atlas’s Firebolt but also at the realisation that he could actually try out for Quidditch this year. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely!” Ron said. 

“What are you going for?”

“Gonna try for Keeper, since Wood’s gone it’d be the only place available.”

“Not really, if I don’t get in there’s a Chaser spot. There’s no guarantee I’ll get a spot in the team,” Atlas said but Ron went wide-eyed.

“You’re barking! As if you won’t make the team,” he turned to Tonks who was staring between them excitedly. She really liked Quidditch. “Her first year as a Chaser she jumped off of her broom and punched the Quaffle through a hoop. Most of the time all the commentary is about her, Lee Jordan’s mad for her on the pitch! Even Hermione loves watching her and she hates Quidditch.”

“That sounds really impressive, Atlas!” Tonks grinned and Atlas muttered her thanks, “Merlin, what I wouldn’t give to play a game of Quidditch at Hogwarts again. Sometimes I regret becoming an Auror but then I remember, putting crooks behind bars is just as good as putting Quaffle’s through rings,” she smirked proudly and Ron snorted, Atlas just smiling and shaking her head. “Seriously — but at the same time, getting people who hate Quidditch to love Quidditch because of me sounds good too. I’m sure it feels good to Atlas.”

“I — er,” Atlas glanced over at Hermione who was laughing with Ginny, the two of them talking to Remus. Crookshanks was in her arms, asleep it seemed, breathing softly as she stroked him gently and when Atlas looked back up, Hermione was already staring at her, smiling with a small little wave across the table. Atlas waved back slowly, “yeah…it feels good.”

“Atlas has a crush on her,” A new voice joined and Atlas flushed, shooting Harry a glare as he grinned. Though it seemed a little crooked, not entirely commital. “A big fat one.”

“Really!?” Tonks beamed, hooking an arm around Atlas’s shoulder and giving her a teasing grin. “How am I only just finding out?”

“Seriously, how are you only just finding out? It’s bloody obvious,” Ron huffed and then mocked a gag, “she sends her heart eyes every time she so much as glances in her direction, she’s like…in love with her for some reason.”

“I’m not!” Atlas protested, cheeks pink as Tonks cackled. “I admit that I like her but…I mean,” she furrowed her brows, cheeks still flaring as Ron soon joined in with the laughter. She groaned and nudged the boy’s shoulder, walking away to spare her dignity. A pair of footsteps followed her and she didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not,” Atlas scoffed and Harry grinned.

“You’re right, I’m not.”

“You’re such a pisstake,” Atlas groaned, shoving his face so his glasses went askew. “How are you, Potter? Good summer?”

“Not bad, Black and no the summer’s been…lonely.”

“Tell me about it…” Atlas sighed as she led the boy deeper into the house, up the stairs to where she had seen Molly disappear some time ago after muttering about a Boggart she was going to get rid of.

“You know, it’s so weird…”

“What is?”

“Knowing you’re Frog…”

“Oh,” Atlas laughed slightly, “Yeah…I tried not to eavesdrop last year when you and Hermione would go down to the Lake.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” he smiled and then smirked. “You know…every dog joke I’ve ever made about you suddenly holds a truth to it.”

“Piss off,” Atlas grumbled as Harry laughed, eventually dying down to a simple smile.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Atlas.”

“Why so sentimental, Potter?”

“I don’t know I just…I’m glad I’m finally around someone that — that knows…what we went through in the graveyard, I know it’s selfish but…I’m really glad I wasn’t alone,” Harry muttered, and Atlas turned to him the two of them stopping on the landing. “I’ve just felt so cramped…so alone without anyone, I mean…with Dumbledore not letting you send letters and not letting Ron and Hermione tell me about anything that’s happening. It’s been maddening.”

“Yeah…It’s — I feel the same.”

“Do you see him?” 

“…what?” Atlas uttered and she looked into Harry’s eyes, watching as a wobbly frown donned his face, a certain sheen over his eyes as he rubbed at them frustratedly.

“Cedric.”

“I — ” Atlas stared at her godbrother, eyes slightly wide as a rock formed in her throat, the memories of her restless nights, waking up and finding herself fighting her sheets, the green light she woke to every time she opened her eyes, how sunsets made her sob and how her ringed hand remained always cold, no matter how she warmed it. She shook her head, banishing those memories to that far corner of her mind, banishing them to a place so she would forget. “No. No, I don’t.”

Harry stared at her, silently, contemplative before he nodded, simply nodded and then he frowned. Deeply.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just…Dumbledore. Why hasn’t he told me anything — us anything? We were there, does he not trust us? Does he not think we’re capable? I mean…I don’t know. We’ve done so much, overcome so much,” Harry ranted and Atlas had an inkling he had wanted to get this off of his chest for a while. “Atlas — Atlas, if you think about it, who did you think would be the Gryffindor prefects?”

“What? Harry, I don’t understand…what does this have to do with Dumbledore not thinking we’re capable?”

“It has everything to do with Dumbledore thinking we’re not capable!” This was so sudden, growing so quickly out of proportion. “We’ve done so much more, been through so much more, yet Dumbledore doesn’t think us capable of being prefects?”

“Oh…” Atlas suddenly understood, “Harry…not being picked as prefect doesn’t mean we’re not capable.”

“But…it’s — it’s unfair.”

Atlas sat against the wall, patting the spot beside her. “Why is it?”

“Because –” he slid down beside her, letting his head drop to her shoulder, “– because we’ve been through so much more! And we never…we never get given anything! We’re just thrust into another life or death situation, I mean, you weren’t here for first and second year but I bet you would have been by my side when I faced Quirrel and then again when I killed the Basilisk, actually — I bet you would have been the one to kill the Basilisk.”

“I do know how to wield a sword,” Atlas smiled with a small nod.

“Even before that, we’d faced more than anyone, even as babies, the both of us were almost killed. In third year, you saved me and Hermione as Frog from Lupin when he was a werewolf. You’ve got the scars and the bite to show for it. You could have died! And then last year, every single trial we had was just…torture! And all we’ve been rewarded with is scars, blood money and whispers behind our backs! You lost your brother, Atlas!

“So I’m annoyed that — that we never get anything nice! We never get recognised and instead, we get newspaper articles ridiculing us! We get left in the dark! I mean…I don’t even want to be a prefect but it would have been nice to be recognised for something good for once!”

They sat in silence, Harry panting while Atlas remained quiet, staring into her hands, upon the onyx ring of her finger once a brilliant gold. She sighed, closing her eyes as she clenched her fists closed. “I know, Harry…I know, I understand.”

“I wasn’t — I couldn’t congratulate Ron this morning when we got the news…and I felt so…I don’t know…”

“Harry look, I — I’m not the best with…feelings and understanding them but I know they’re not wrong, no matter how much you think so. Being jealous is human…the only time it’d be bad was if you acted on it…like Ron did last year when we were put forward for the — the Tournament.”

It grew icy at that, the mere mention of that tournament weighing down their shoulders as they sat, staring at the wall opposite. Atlas sought to distract herself and eyed the peeling wallpaper, the flaking paint and the remaining mould left to fester by the skirting board. She looked at the old pictures, all covered in dusty fabrics of the finest designs and listened to the snores she heard from behind them. And they sat, just sat, in silence together on that landing, Atlas’s mind static while Harry’s mind ran, she could tell so she waited for him to burst.

“I want to be in the Order…I want to know everything that’s going on — if there’s a war –“

“I think it’s best that you’re left out of it Harry,” Atlas stated, her voice now monotone but firm. “It’s no place for you.”

“How can you say that? After everything that’s happened…? Do you not want to fight back?” Harry muttered, in a state of disbelief. Atlas stood and took a few paces forward, arm shaking as she clenched her other hand around it, her deep breaths sounding throughout the stairwell.

“We’re children…we shouldn’t have to.”

“Yet we do.”

“Yet I do. I’m the only one being forced into it, not you and you should count yourself lucky because of that…you’ll have no part in it, Harry. Nor will Ron or Hermione. Not until you come of age,” Atlas said and she turned, her eyes fiery and bright as she glared at the boy. “For once, keep your nose out and have your head down. Let the adults deal with it for now and just…be a kid.”

“How am I supposed to sit down with the knowledge that people have died and will die because of a man after me?”

“The same way you did before you knew about magic,” Atlas snapped.

“Atlas, why are you being like — ?”

A sudden gut-wrenching scream echoed out into the landing, drowning out Harry’s words. Atlas moved before Harry could even comprehend what was happening and ran towards it, her borrowed wand at the ready. The noise had come from an open door, the moonlight within spilling out and onto the wooden floor, it was only now that she was close, Atlas heard the crying from within, her brows furrowing as she pressed her back against the doorframe, waiting for any other noise before rushing into the room, wand poised and steady.

Only, instead of a dangerous intruder, she found Molly, curled up in a ball sputtering spells Atlas didn’t quite catch as she was now staring upon Bill’s dead body. Yet her wand remained firm and she did not flinch upon seeing it, instead, her expression grew dull, her eyes a dim and flickering gold.

“R – Riddikulus!” Molly sobbed, her wand shaky between her fingers as a loud crack resounded around the room and Mr Weasley took Bill’s place. She said it again and again. Again and again. Each time a new dead body took its place. Atlas finally stepped further inside, the Boggart turning to her and cracking so that it took the form of something else, something that was no longer a shadow, her monster, Achlys. 

Instead, it was Cedric. Crack. And then it was Harry. Crack. And then it was Ron. Crack. Crack. Crack.

Harry stumbled through the doorway, stopping behind Atlas, his breath catching in his throat as Atlas just stared upon the frantically shifting creature, seemingly desperate to get a rise out of her, standing so stoic, her wand still raised, strong and unwavering. It didn’t seem to realise how she had frozen, how she had not once tried to dispatch of it, how her eyes had glossed over with tears she did not shed.

Crack. It was Hermione.

Atlas closed her eyes as the Boggart continued to shift, Molly still sobbing in the background as Harry stood, pale and shaking at the images before him. 

Crack. It was multiple bodies now, all deformed for it was only one Boggart trying to capture the likeness of many. Yet still, it was haunting and it worked to some degree, Molly had begun wailing louder, Harry had fallen to the floor and Atlas’s burnt arm had started shaking.

“Riddikulus.”

The bodies disappeared in a puff of smoke, loud footsteps advancing on the room until Moody, Remus and Sirius had entered the battleground also, staring upon the scene with wide eyes, looking at Molly, sobbing in the corner – Remus went to her – Harry, fallen on the floor – Moody hauled him up – and Atlas, still stood, blank-faced and tucking her wand simply into her belt – Sirius approached her.

“What happened here?” Remus asked.

“B – Boggart!” Molly wailed into his shoulder. 

They each turned to Atlas but she was already moving, brushing past her dad and leaving the room, the door slamming shut behind her so that a clump of dust, turned solid due to years of uncleanliness, reverted back to its cloudy state and kicked up behind her. She hurried up the stairs, to the room she knew had been assigned to her and barged inside, finding her trunk leant up against the wall and both Kalo and Little Robin singing soft tunes.

She paid them no mind.

Her heart was racing and her eyes were flickering as her breathing grew shallower, the visions that Boggart had shown her flashing upon the underside of her eyelids. She shook her head, gritting her teeth as her arm quivered again, the ring upon her finger burning so cold she could no longer feel her hand through the searing blaze. She denied it in her head, denied that any of those events had transpired because this was supposed to be a celebration, she was supposed to be excited today because she was reunited with her friends, her family. She was supposed to be happy. So she tried to smile.

But all she could do was cry.