Chapter 99

Ice stretched across the Black Lake, a still sheet of white carrying as far as the eye could see. It was silent, no small waves lapping at the shore, or crashes of the water sounding from the Giant Squid, nothing but the natural sounds of nightfall. Nocturnal beasts prowling for food while those who bathed in daylight lay asleep, unsuspecting. Atlas sat on the bank, staring out upon the lake, snow falling all around her and settling in her hair as a frosty crown, she sniffled at the cool air, a cloud falling from her mouth as she exhaled.

A pile of armour plates lay beside her, arm bracers and shin guards sat atop her chest piece, she’d undressed to her Quidditch uniform beneath as soon as she’d come upon the clearing. It had become uncomfortable, heavy when she had left Minerva’s office, as if it didn’t fit her anymore. Perhaps it was because she had been kicked from the team, had possibly doomed the rest of them from winning the cup because she couldn’t bite back her temper. So she felt guilty, sorry for dragging everyone down with her.

She should have just held on. Minerva had been right.

Another gust of cold wind caressed her face, tickling at the slit in her lip, the busted skin from Umbridge’s ring. She idly poked at the wound with her tongue, the taste of old copper knuts returning to her mouth as she sighed and picked up at smooth rock from amongst the thousands that decorated the shore. Her hand drew back, followed by her arm as she, with minimal effort, propelled the stone across the icy field, smiling, slightly, small-like as it flitted across the cold surface. The sound was pleasant on her ears.

Footfalls fell behind her but she did not turn, finding the rhythmic clip-clopping of the beasts familiar and only glancing to the side as the head of a Thestral appeared over her shoulder. Such a majestic being, she’d always admired them but only from afar, occasionally she’d seen them up close, most times at Luna’s side but rarely. She found the requirements for seeing one rather grim after all, she didn’t like the walking reminder. So she found it in her best interest to stay away but lately, well, she didn’t care so much. They were just misunderstood.

More footsteps followed soon after, this time heavy, clunky and clumsy. A pattern Atlas knew well, so when Hagrid sat beside her, shifting the earth suddenly under his weight, Atlas did not startle, instead, she leaned against his arm, his hand coming up to rest upon her head.

“Welcome home, Hagrid.”

“Good ter be back, Atlas…good ter be back,” he replied gruffly, “wha’ are yeh doin’ out ‘ere then?”

“Thinking.”

“Abou’?” He pressed and Atlas shrugged against him, offering that nonverbal gesture as an answer. The man hummed, seemed to stay silent in contemplation and then Atlas felt him shift, felt his eyes fall upon her face, gaze raking across the cut of her lip and the bruising of her cheek. “Wha’ happened ter yeh face then? Quidditch?”

“…something like that,” she nodded and then shifted also to meet his eyes, brows furrowing deeply when she saw the state of his face. “What happened to yours?” 

“Accident,” Hagrid grumbled and though Atlas wasn’t fully convinced, she figured she didn’t have the right to question him any further. She hadn’t exactly told him her whole truth either. She shuffled, moving to her knees and pulling out her wand. “Don’ bother, it won’ work, already seen Poppy abou’ it. She tol’ me ter slap a slab o’ dragon steak on it, works wonders apparently.”

“I see…” Atlas retreated, tucking her wand back in the holster around her leg and clicking the clasp closed. “If Poppy says so, must be true.”

“Yeh, exactly righ’,” Hagrid nodded, pleased as he picked up a pebble and skid it across the icy field. “Yeh sure yer not too cold? We could go have a nice cuppa at me cabin, warm up a bit, if yeh’d like?”

“I’m alright, Hagrid. I don’t like tea,” Atlas murmured, eyes turning back to the lake, glazing over with how long she stared, unblinking, as if trying to see something through the darkness, find an answer or complete a puzzle. She blinked a moment later, a sheen returning to her eye and a streak falling over her cheek, excess tears from keeping her eyes open against the bitter breeze. “How did your mission to recruit the giants go?”

“Who tol’ yeh abou’ tha’?” Hagrid replied, alarmed and avoidant.

“Dumbledore,” Atlas offered simply and Hagrid frowned.

“Oh…” he seemed to grow conflicted, looking torn between trusting Dumbledore’s judgement and admonishing him for dragging Atlas into the mess that was this budding war. He sighed a moment later and plucked up another stone, weighing it in his palm, “not good. At firs’, it was alrigh’, managed ter get in their good graces but then the Gurg, Karkus was overthrown by this other big fella, Gologmath, an’ he wasn’ the type to welcome us, ended up sidin’ with some Deatheaters that showed. Tha’s the short version.”

“It’s more than enough. In honesty, I know I asked but I don’t think I’d be able to process any of it if you told me it in detail,” Atlas smiled half-heartedly and Hagrid glanced at her, a sadness to his face, “come on, don’t look at me like that, I’m alright.”

“No yer not,” Hagrid refuted quietly and Atlas stared at him a moment, silent, stone-faced before she huffed and smiled again, this time bleakly as she nodded.

“I suppose I’m not.”

“Yeh look tired.”

“I am.”

It seemed Hagrid didn’t know how to respond so the conversation came to a quick end, the two of them enjoying the other’s company in silence, sat in the snow, a static stillness all around as the Thestrals licked at holes they had made in the ice, gulping up icy water and nuzzling against their kin. Atlas could not help how her eyes drifted over to them and she noticed Hagrid doing the same, both of them observing these dark creatures living like any other animal, any other family. It was then that Atlas realised there, in that moment, she felt her discomfort fade, there, in that moment, the sight of a Thestral foal cuddling up to its mother made her feel a deep warmth that chased away the cold that had settled in her bones.

“Yeh should go back ter the castle soon, Atlas,” Hagrid said and stood, his giant moleskin coat accentuating his size as he towered over Atlas, “it’s gettin’ on now.”

“I will,” Atlas nodded, eyes fixed on the foal at its mother’s side. “Soon. I take it you’re turning in?”

“I hate ter leave yeh, Atlas. But I need’ter get some shut-eye.”

“I get it,” Atlas nodded but Hagrid remained, the frown still firm upon his face, “it’s alright Hagrid, I’ll go back soon.”

“…yeh take care o’ yer’self, Atlas,” Hagrid grumbled, placing his gargantuan hand atop her head ruffling her hair gently, “I’ll see yeh in class, alrigh’? I suspect this nex’ lesson’ll be touchy so don’ feel yeh have ter come. S’bout Thestrals, yeh see an’ I know you don’ necessarily like ’em.”

“No…I think they’re ok. I’ll see you in class,” Atlas said, looking up at the man with a small smile, “and I won’t tell anyone. Suspect you want to keep it a surprise.”

“If tha’s the case, you don’ mind givin’ me a hand Tuesday, do yeh? The Thestrals really seem ter like yeh, yeh see.”

“Sure. I’d be happy to, night Hagrid,” Atlas muttered turning back to the lake.

“Ta Atlas, G’nigh’,” he murmured in return and Atlas listened as he walked away, his distinct footsteps fading behind the noise of the forest, such heavy footfalls smothered by the rustle of the trees, the prowling of beasts.

It didn’t take long before that noise became static, a background ring as Atlas fixed her eyes upon the Thestrals once more, finding her attention constantly drifting to them, interest drawn by the warmth such cold creatures instilled within her. She sighed, drawing her knees to her chest and burying her face within them, her breath warm against the fabric of her trousers, heating the skin beneath. Stars sat upon the horizon in the distance, the boundless sky riddled with white freckles, most named, most known, never changing, Atlas settled her eyes upon them when her interest in the Thestrals had been sated. When she realised they were not leaving, each of them finding spots to lay. Perhaps to sleep.

Her mind drifted to thoughts of tomorrow, of thoughts to the future, the missions and situations placed on hold while she was out there, sat upon the bank and under the ever-expanding sky. She would have to face Umbridge again soon, endure her perfume and her hand with that threat of another trial held over her head. One hair out of line and she’d be back in that chair, in those chains, in such agony, under the watch of so many eyes. The thought had her teetering on the edge of spiralling, her hands growing numb, spreading up the lengths of her arms to her shoulders.

She took in a breath, eyes clenching closed, tight so that she saw stars, patterns upon the underside of her eyelids and then when she opened them, she almost jumped from her skin. A cold gust kissed her face, the bottomless, white pits known only as the eyes of a Thestral were staring straight through her. The foal from before had settled at her feet to rest. Immediately that discomfort came rushing back but for a completely different reason. Those eyes. They were similar to Kalo’s but only because they made Atlas feel such a specific distress.

Carefully, she moved away and the foal soon lost interest, laying its head upon its legs and closing its eyes, nostrils flaring with every soft breath. Atlas found she much preferred their eyes closed and relaxed, her shoulders slackening as she watched the beast a moment before returning her gaze to the sky. Minutes ticked by, perhaps even an hour passed with Atlas eyeing constellations, naming and mumbling each one to herself, quietly so not a soul but herself heard. It was only after finding Perseus did something — someone shatter her tranquillity, soft steps cautiously peeling from the trees and making their way over to Atlas.

There was a familiar smell that followed. A smell Atlas herself was wearing after much assistance from the intruder herself.

“Hagrid told me I’d find you out here,” Hermione said and Atlas looked up at her, finding the girl holding two steaming mugs, shoulders bunched and teeth chattering to some degree, she was pale, like the snow that fell around them but remained rosy in the cheeks. “I brought you some tea.”

“…I don’t like tea,” Atlas murmured. “I thought you knew that.”

“I do,” Hermione said and took a seat beside her, careful not to spill the liquid upon herself, “but this is different tea. It’s caramel.”

“Caramel?” Atlas said, raising a brow and hesitantly accepting the cup as Hermione handed it to her, “I didn’t know that existed…”

“I knew you didn’t like regular tea so I tried to find one that might suit your tastes,” Hermione said, swirling around the contents of her own mug absentmindedly, “caramel tea is sweet, so I thought it’d be better for you.”

“Oh…I see,” Atlas muttered and turned to her drink, blowing on it carefully a few moments before raising it to her mouth. The taste was — well, it was pleasant, different, it wasn’t a usual tea just as Hermione had promised and instead, it was sweet, the taste of the molasses smooth on her tongue, buttery with notes of vanilla. “It’s…good.”

“I’m glad.”

“Thank you,” Atlas muttered taking another sip, Hermione smiled over the rim of her own mug, eyes dropping to the contents before she looked out upon the frozen scene before them, straight through the body of the Thestral foal. Silence blanketed them for a time and for a moment, it was as if Hermione wasn’t even there, Atlas felt her of course, how the girl pressed her leg to hers but it seemed Hermione was trying to make herself seem small, as if hesitant to encroach on Atlas’s quiet. “…you usually have questions.”

“I already know what happened…Harry told me,” Hermione said and Atlas glanced at her, only now noticing the cold fury across her face, the scowl curling her lip and the fire burning in her eye. Outwardly she was calm, eerily so but inwardly, she was a raging storm waiting for a crack in her facade, an opportunity to be unleashed. “She…” Hermione did not finish her sentence, her words were tight, grip white-knuckled around her mug. 

Atlas was surprised it did not break. “Scream.”

“What?” Hermione turned to her, apparently knocked from her stupor.

“Scream…let out your frustrations, nobody will hear you out here,” Atlas said, gesturing to their surroundings.

“Shouldn’t you be doing that? You — are you not frustrated?”

“I’m too tired,” Atlas shrugged, looking into her mug as Hermione stared at her cheek, gaze drifting over face, hand reaching out to brush across the red that steadily darkened to a nasty purple, thumb trailing to the cut in her lip. Atlas remained for her, tilting this way and that, toward Hermione’s gentle touch.

“Would you like me to heal you?” Hermione whispered, letting her warm palm rest against Atlas’s cold face.

“No…it’s ok,” Atlas said, “letting it heal naturally…I think it will give me some sort of closure.”

“How so?”

“…do you still want to know why I’m afraid of Umbridge?” Atlas asked instead, turning to look at the girl beside her. “Do you?”

“Only if you’re ready to tell me,” Hermione answered softly, dropping her hand to Atlas’s and brushing her thumb over the girl’s knuckles. Atlas looked upon them and smiled, shaking her head.

“I’m not but I don’t think I ever really will be. It’s just one of those things…” Atlas said and Hermione nodded in understanding, keeping her eyes on Atlas while she looked up at the stars. “Umbridge hurt me when I was younger…during my trial she was permitted to perform a series of…tests. Physical ones,” she murmured motionlessly, “I’m dangerous, in the wrong hands I’m a weapon, even before the ‘amplification’ as they called it. I’ve come to terms with that fact but I didn’t know that back then, didn’t know how strong I had made myself. They were scared but so was I, didn’t stop Umbridge, nothing stopped Umbridge. I think you can — I think you can gather what she did to me to test my temperament.”

Hermione did not speak, her eyes had turned to the rocks.

“And back then…to conceal what they did to me, I was healed, after each hour they would bring in a healer sworn to secrecy, I don’t remember a lot of it, sometimes I get things muddled up, I can’t remember what was real and what wasn’t…” Atlas raised her fingers to her lips, tracing over the slit in her lip, “sometimes I think I made the tests up because they were healed so quickly, it feels like they never physically happened at all but mentally…mentally they happened. I feel like I should have been stuck in recovery much longer but…I remember leaving Courtroom Ten unharmed, not a scratch on me…it messed with me I think. So I want this one to heal like normal, so that…so that — I don’t know, so that I don’t think I made it up even though I wish it never happened.”

Silence followed, the words sinking in. Not only within Hermione but Atlas as well, she had not spoken of that day in a very long time. It felt unreal as if she was recalling the memory of an event that happened to another.

“You…” Hermione finally spoke, her voice was shaky, no longer eerily calm or cool, no, it was filled with so much rage Atlas found herself silently stunned, “you were 12.”

“I was dangerous. I guess they had to see if I was safe enough to reenter society somehow,” Atlas found herself saying.

“You’re not — you’re not seriously sticking up for them, are you…?” Hermione said and her words made Atlas freeze, her voice echoing in her mind as she slowly turned to look at Hermione, finding the girl was looking at her, shocked, disbelieving.

“I…I guess I just did, huh?” Atlas murmured and then laughed, it was a hollow sound, hopeless, shattered, dropping her face into her hands, tears pricked at her eyes. “Holy shit, I did.”

“Atlas…I didn’t — I don’t…” Hermione couldn’t speak, it seemed Atlas was one of the only people to draw her to speechlessness quite so quickly. A phenomenon that threatened to turn commonplace in Atlas’s company. So, instead of speaking she stood and approached the ice taking a tentative step upon its surface before committing fully and walking across it. Atlas looked up from her palms, sniffling at the cold before quickly setting her mug aside and standing.

“Hermione, wait, it’s –” she sniffed, taking a few steps after her, “– it’s not solid in the middle.”

She did not stop so Atlas continued, walking after her urgently and grabbing her wrist when they were a good distance away from the shore. The snow coated the ice like a layer of powdered sugar, dressing them just the same as they stood still, silent, Atlas alarmed while Hermione stared aimlessly.

“S’far enough, Mi,” Atlas muttered, her hand dropping from her wrist and sliding to the girl’s hand. “What are you doing?”

“Screaming.”

“Pardon?”

Without warning Hermione took her hand from Atlas’s grasp and cupped it around her mouth, crying out at the top of her lungs, eyes clenched tight, mouth wide open, head tilted to the sky, tears streaming down her cheeks as she just screamed. It echoed across the lake, her emotions naked for only the forest, herself and Atlas to hear. She stopped, chest heaving as she turned to Atlas, blinking with a faux grin on her face as if trying to cheer herself and Atlas up.

“Yell, cry, scream something Atty. You said it yourself, it’ll let out our pent up frustrations,” Hermione said but Atlas shook her head, brows furrowed.

“Mi, I’m tired.”

“I know…” Hermione nodded, smiling softly and cupping Atlas’s cheeks, she pulled her down, placing a kiss upon her forehead that heated the whole of the girl’s face, “but try…you were right, it does feel good. So come on, together let’s just scream our heads off.”

“I –“

“On three,” Hermione interrupted and Atlas stared at her a moment, turning her eyes to the sky and slowly raising her hands to her face. Hermione mirrored the action, eyes fixed on the girl beside her, “one…two…three –“

They yelled, cried, screamed as loud as they could, voices melding together to create one noise full of fatigue, desperation, despair, anger, anything and everything. Atlas dissolved into tears, her face one of agony as she screamed, eyes shut so tight she saw the stars through her lids. Her face was red, redder than Hermione’s as the girl stopped a few moments later, chest heaving from exertion, but Atlas kept going, she had more breath to give, more frustrations to free, so many thoughts and emotions, not even this prolonged scream would satisfy them all.

Through Atlas’s cries, Hermione looked at the sky, clouds falling from her lips in quick succession, eyes fluttering open and closed and all the while a small smile crept across her face, gaze drifting over to Atlas who, though sobbing, looked as if the weight of the world was quickly falling from her shoulders. The noise stopped a few moments later, a sharp inhale following before it all started anew, harsher this time, angrier, a deep rumble to the yell but it was shorter, curter, more abrupt. And when it ended, no more cries persisted and Atlas’s eyes opened as she swallowed, breathing heavy, gaze turning to meet Hermione’s.

“How did that feel?” Hermione asked quietly.

Atlas nodded, wiping her eyes and grimacing into the back of her hands, the tears salty, irritating. Hermione reached her arms around the girl’s middle, hugging her tight, the side of her cheek resting against her chest, their bodies all the warmth the other needed in the bitter breeze.

“Let’s go back, get you to bed,” Hermione suggested carefully, pulling away and Atlas mutely nodded again, columns of steam falling from her nose as she stared at the frosted floor, jaw taut, brows furrowed and tears in her eyes. She wiped them away quickly and sniffled. “Atlas?”

“Don’t do anything to Umbridge.”

“Atlas, that’s –“

“Not yet,” Atlas said, turning to meet Hermione’s gaze, “ok?”

“Ok — all right, I won’t do anything.”

“Good girl,” Atlas nodded, wiping at her eyes again and letting out a soft shuddering breath, “I didn’t get to finish that tea.”

“I’ll make it for you again.”

“Thank you.”

Their walk back to the castle was quiet, filled with no words but the ones said in the glances they shared. No soul caught them wandering the halls and the Lady didn’t question their late return, only smiled and admitted them entry without a word. The days following Atlas kept to herself, she didn’t delve into the topic when Harry and George had mentioned that day in Minerva’s office with Umbridge and focused on her homework when she could. Hermione did not bring up their conversation, nor the moment they shared on the ice, screaming into the sky, there was simply a quiet understanding, small smiles shared between them in the Common area.

And when Tuesday came Atlas ate her lunch quickly, excusing herself from her friends to venture down the hills and toward Hagrid’s hut. She remembered how the man had wanted her to help him with the Thestrals.

“Atlas! I’m glad yeh’ve come!” Hagrid beamed and Atlas smiled, noting how the bruises across his face mirrored her own, yellow and green, healing from whatever had injured him. She took off her cloak and undid her tie, the topmost buttons of her shirt following as she readied herself for whatever the man asked of her. 

“I did say I would,” she said, folding her disrobed clothes neatly and placing them on the top step by Hagrid’s home.

“Did yeh get some good shut-eye? Yeh look a little lighter,” Hagrid observed, wiping his hands covered in something that smelled an awful lot like cows’ blood upon a piece of old cloth.

“Just talked to Hermione about some things, Harry and Ron’ve been cheering me up too,” Atlas mused, joining him by the edge of the Forest.

“Yeah? They’re good for yeh, I think. ‘Specially Hermione, yeh like her quite a bit I’ve ‘eard,” Hagrid beamed happily and Atlas huffed, smiling as she nodded.

“Yeah, suppose I do. How’d you know?”

“Harry an’ Ron,” Hagrid offered and Atlas made an understanding sound, nodding slowly as she turned her gaze to the trees, looking far and deep between them. “Righ’, we should get a move on. I’ll jus’ be finishin’ up ‘ere, could yeh go an’ take ’em ter the paddock? Where I use’ ter keep the Hippogriffs?”

“Sure, is it open?”

“Should be,” Hagrid nodded and grabbed a line of meat from the stump behind him, “lure ’em with this if they ain’t co-op’ratin’,” he said and Atlas rolled up her sleeves, taking the chain of red, dripping with juices that would trickle a trail behind her wherever she went.

“I’ll be going then,” Atlas declared, venturing into the forest.

“Ta, Atlas!” Hagrid called after her and she tossed a wave over her shoulder.

Thestral territory was easy to find, it was darker than most parts, colder, wetter, always smelling of rotting wood, they liked places like that, thrived in places unseen. She clambered over roots, meat dragging behind her through the snow leaving a long trail of pink behind her, it didn’t take long for something to take an interest, the familiar clip-clops of those hardened hooves clambering over rock soon becoming quite apparent in the silent wood. Atlas looked to the beast, unhooking a chunk of bait and chucking it up in the air, watching as the Thestrals beak clasped closed around the red with a sharp click.

More appeared soon after, each cautiously approaching Atlas at first, sniffing at her, nudging at the line of meat, observing her quietly. She offered quiet hello’s, reaching up to brush her palm across the side of one more comfortable beast, its wings unravelling and displaying their remarkable length. Soon she had amassed a crowd of five, each of them growing more and more ambitious, growing nearer and nearer, closer and closer and when Atlas thought they would follow she turned in the direction of the old paddock, throwing the occasional clump of meat over her shoulder.

Their distinct footfalls never faded so Atlas did not look back, wordlessly pushing open the paddock when she had reached it and leading them all inside. They could leave if they wanted to, they were gifted with the power of flight after all and were not bound by chains as the Hippogriffs had been. Some grew startled at the shutting of the gate so Atlas kept it open, attempting to reassure the Thestrals of their safety by offering soft words, hands careful and gentle as she stroked them, fingers rising and dipping over the bones that pressed prominently through their skin.

She sighed after a moment and turned away from them, dumping the rest of the bait in the centre and watching quietly as they ate, waiting as minutes ticked by and looking up when she heard footsteps approaching in the distance. They appeared shortly after, her classmates looking confused as Hagrid beamed and gestured to what a majority of them considered an empty paddock. Atlas noticed, however, that Harry was eyeing the beasts with interest. It seemed he could see them now.

“Wow, truly, what a magnificent beast you have for us Hagrid,” A familiar voice jeered and Atlas turned to catch Daphne’s gaze, her eyes firmly fixed on her. Atlas shook her head and sighed through her nose, arms crossing. “Atlas sure is one of a kind, never seen before, totally unique.”

“Yeah, heard monsters like her were Quintuple X rated, sure she doesn’t need a chain?” Pansy added on with a smirk, clearly oblivious to the silent words exchanged between Atlas and the girl beside her, “honestly, you can’t keep bringing things like this to class.”

“Now, tha’s enough out of you two,” Hagrid frowned but Atlas waved it off.

“It’s alright, Hagrid. People often spout nonsense when they see me. Seems like my looks render dullards even duller,” Atlas mused, grabbing one of the chunks from the floor and chucking it into the air. It disappeared from sight and many gasped, “I take it as a compliment.”

“If tha’s the case then…” Hagrid grumbled and then turned back to the class as a whole, “put yer hands up, who can see ’em?”

Atlas raised her hand idly, glancing down when a foal came and tucked itself under her raised arm, pale eyes looking up at her curiously, she smiled warily and looked away, swallowing down the rock in her throat. A few others had their hands raised, including Harry and Neville but there was a boy from Slytherin as well, Atlas didn’t remember his name. Hagrid hummed and let the cow’s carcass fall from his shoulder, offering to the Thestrals a free feast.

“Yeah…yeah, I know abou’ yeh Atlas, knew you’d be able ter as well, Harry,” Hagrid nodded seriously, “you too, Neville? An’ you –“

“Excuse me,” came the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy, “but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?”

“Thestrals,” Hagrid said proudly and Atlas heard Hermione’s distinctive ‘Oh!’ of comprehension over by Harry. A few of the class had taken to watching the cow’s carcass steadily disappearing however and didn’t look at all as if they shared Hagrid’s sentiment of excitement, “Hogwarts ‘as got a whole herd of ’em ‘ere. They pull the carriages yeh see, they’re dead clever an’ useful. Now, who can tell me why some o’ yeh can see ’em an’ some can’t?”

Hermione raised her hand.

“Go on then,” Hagrid pointed, beaming at her.

“The only people who can see Thestrals,” she began and Atlas turned to look back at the foal at her side, gliding her hand up and down its snout, smiling when it made some vague noise of delight, “are people who have seen death.”

“Tha’s exactly right,” Hagrid said solemnly, “ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, Thestrals –“

“Hem, hem.”

Ah, that sound. Atlas froze, slowly taking her hand away from the creature, she swallowed, brows furrowed and glanced over to the woman, don in that horribly green cloak and hat, matched with the pink cardigan, it was harsh on the eyes but Atlas didn’t care about that, didn’t notice. Instead, she frowned and moved over to Hagrid, nudging him lightly to garner his attention, it seemed he had thought the strange sound had come from one of the Thestrals.

“Hem, hem.”

Again, one more time and Hagrid might be in trouble. “Hagrid.”

“Wha — Oh, hello!” Hagrid greeted, smiling as he looked over at Umbridge.

“‘You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?” Umbridge said very slowly, each word articulated in a theatrical way, it was clear what she was doing, treating Hagrid as though she were addressing some dull creature. One that could not understand a word she spoke. “Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?”

“Oh, yeah,” Hagrid said brightly, Umbridge’s actions going unnoticed but Atlas shuffled uncomfortably beside him, jaw clenching and unclenching along with her fists, she licked her top lip subconsciously. “Glad yeh found the place all righ’! Well, as you can see — or, I dunno –can you? We’re doin’ Thestrals today –“

“I’m sorry?” Umbridge interrupted, speaking louder still and cupping her hand around her ear. “What did you say?”

Hagrid grew confused. “Er — Thestrals!” he said loudly, gesticulating wildly in an effort to communicate his words to this woman who seemed to be hard-of-hearing. “Big — er — winged horses, yeh know?”

But, of course, this was Umbridge’s goal all along and she raised a brow, smiling with that note of triumph Atlas despised, she referred to her clipboard, pulling out a pen and muttering, “has to…resort to…crude sign language.”

“Well…anyway,” Hagrid murmured, looking to Atlas beside him but the girl was pale, stone-faced and focussed on the floor, “erm…well, wha’ was I sayin?”

“Appears to have…poor short term…memory,” Umbridge muttered again but loud enough for the class to hear, Hagrid blanched again, looking lost as a few of the Slytherins broke out into silent laughter.

“You were — you were talking about Thestrals, Professor Hagrid,” Atlas spoke, taking in a breath and looking up at him. She would not let Umbridge fluster this man she cares for to ruin, “please continue, I’m sure many of us would wish for nothing more.”

“Oh, yeah, ta Atlas,” Atlas noticed how the man sent an uneasy glance to Umbridge but ploughed on bravely. “Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an’ five females. Tha’ one,” he gestured to the largest of the lot, the one furthest from the class. But the gesture was lost on the majority who glanced around aimlessly, “name o’ Tenebrus, he’s my special favourite, firs’ one born ‘ere in the Forest –“

“Are you aware,” it seemed the inquisitor would not quit, “that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as ‘dangerous’?”

Atlas inhaled sharply but Hagrid chuckled beside her.

“Thestrals aren’ dangerous! All righ’, they might take a bite outta yeh if yeh really annoy them –“

“Shows signs of…pleasure…at the idea of violence…” Umbridge interrupted, scribbling more furiously than ever.

“No — come on!” Hagrid protested loudly, looking more anxious as ever as Atlas glimpsed up at him worriedly, a firm frown on her face. “I mean, a dog’ll bite if yeh bait it, won’ it — but Thestrals ‘ave jus’ got a bad reputation because o’ the death thing — people use’ ter think they were bad omens, didn’ they? Jus’ didn’ understand, did they?”

Umbridge did not answer but finished her note, looking up at Hagrid with disgust hidden thinly behind her false smile, though Atlas noticed and she was sure Hagrid did too. Then she spoke again, slower while miming each action she described, “Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk,” with her recreation Pansy Parkinson and Draco muffled their laughter harder than ever, “among the students and ask them questions.”

Hagrid stared at her, confused, at a complete loss as to why Umbridge was displaying such odd behaviour. But he continued, as best he could. “Erm…anyway,” it must have been hard to regain the flow of his lesson with so many disruptions, not even Atlas could focus and she adored Care of Magical Creatures, the feeling was the exact same she held when Umbridge viewed Professor Grubbly-Plank’s lesson. “so — Thestrals. Yeah. Well, there’s loads o’ good stuff abou’ ’em…”

“Do you find,” came Umbridge’s ringing voice as she addressed Pansy. The girl seemed to revel in the attention and shot Atlas a sneering look, to which the girl responded with a blank face of her own, “that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?”

“No, because…” it was hard to understand her through her giggles, “because — well, it sounds like grunting a lot of the time.”

“Don’t listen Hagrid,” Atlas murmured, noticing how the unbruised bits of his face flushed.

“Righ’…” he muttered and cleared his throat, smiling as best he could, “Er…yeah…good stuff abou’ Thestrals. Well, once they’re tamed, like this lot, yeh’ll never be lost again. ‘Mazin’ sense o’ direction when they get older, jus’ tell ’em where yeh want ter go –“

“Assuming they can understand you, of course,” Malfoy said loudly, fueling Pansy’s obnoxious laughter. All at once, Atlas wished she had hit him harder. Perhaps with a brick. It didn’t help how Umbridge smiled indulgently as if supporting their disruptive behaviours. She turned to Neville.

“You can see the Thestrals, Longbottom, can you?” She asked and Atlas took a few subtle steps closer to the class, just at the edge of the paddock, she and Hagrid were standing inside. Neville nodded. “Who did you see die?” Her tone was horribly indifferent.

“My…my grandad,” Neville said.

“And what do you think of them?” She pressed, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the dark horses.

“Erm…” Neville began nervously, glancing at Hagrid. Atlas knew then, that Umbridge already had her desired answer. “Well…they’re — er– ok.”

“Students are too…intimidated to admit they are…frightened,” Umbridge noted and looked up with a small when the colour drained from Neville’s features.

“No!” he objected, but the damage was done. “No, I’m not scared of them!”

“It’s quite all right,” she assured, patting Neville on the shoulder with what she evidently intended to be an understanding smile. But it only seemed to set Neville further on edge as his frown grew wobbly. Umbridge gazed around the class then, taking a moment before setting her sights on Atlas, eyes dropping over her face and the twitch of something flickering over her facade. “Atlas…it seems you can see them also. Who did you see die?”

As if she didn’t know the answer.

“…my mother and my best friend — a boy I considered my brother,” Atlas answered evenly and then glanced around, noticing the lack of a certain foal. “Professor Hagrid, one of the foals is missing. I’ll go and look for it.”

“Oh, yeah…ta Atlas, the youngins are pretty daft before growin’ up,” Hagrid nodded and Atlas nodded in kind, vaulting over the fence and walking in the direction she had found them. Yes, young Thestrals were sometimes quite silly but they would always linger in the general direction of its home. They weren’t so stupid they became incapable without their parents.

Atlas wished she could say the same for humans but it seemed at Hogwarts quite a number of pupils became dull and thoughtless without their guardians, unless their guardians are the same then the children were unfortunately doomed from birth. She sighed and rubbed between her brows, the crease becoming quite permanent with each time she frowned. It grew darker around her but not quite as dark as even the outskirts of Thestral territory were, so she was surprised to find the foal so far from even the perimeter.

Maybe this one was duller than the rest.

“Sad…” Atlas murmured, looking upon the beast pityingly. “Come on, your parents will be worried.”

But it did not move. Did such a dopey creature reserve the right to be so stubborn? Atlas didn’t have any meat either so she couldn’t guide it. Should she carry it? No, Thestrals foals were heavier than the average horse foal, larger too, so there would be no way. It had liked her before so why now did it choose to find interest in another thing.

“Need help?”

“No, least of all from you.”

“I thought we were friends?” Atlas glanced over at Daphne and frowned at the mock pout upon her face.

“Your other friends have put me in a bad mood, don’t take it personally,” Atlas said, fully turning now but with a hand upon the foal so it did not run away.

“No right for you to take it out on me.”

“Funny, I seem to remember you taking out your frustrations on me regarding Astoria,” Atlas replied, deadpan and with no room for humour. “Besides, I think I do have a right to take it out on you considering they are your friends, your friends reflect on you as a person. You haven’t even offered an apology in their stead.”

“They were right though, Hagrid’s a horrible teacher,” Daphne shrugged and Atlas frowned.

“Careful, you’re basically insulting family.”

“You got hurt because of one of the creatures he brang, aren’t you resentful?” Daphne pried, moving closer and leaning against a tree, Atlas glared and summoned a string of ope from her wand. She made a loose lead and wrapped it around the Thestral.

“I got hurt because Malfoy is a prick. Buckbeak was my friend and your friend got him sentenced to death,” Atlas wound the other end around her hand and turned to look at Daphne again, “so no, the one I’m resentful of is Malfoy. You know, if you actually want to be my friend you should reevaluate the ones you already have, they’re pretty shit.”

“Millicent is kind to me.”

“Millicent tried to kick the shit out of Hermione in second year, so sorry…but I’m not too keen.”

“It was mutual,” Daphne retorted, “and it’s not like I’m too keen on your lot either.”

“Yeah? What has ‘my lot’ ever done to yours?” Atlas asked and Daphne took a moment to answer, her brows growing crumpled as Atlas slowly shook her head in disbelief, “unbelievable. So you think your friends are justified in all the shit they pull, do you? Justified in — let’s see here: constantly making fun of Harry’s parents? Picking at Ron’s family just because they’re not as well off as you? Bullying Hermione physically and verbally because she’s muggle-born and countless other things for no reason at all?”

“I don’t condone it.”

“Doesn’t matter, they’re still your friends and by sticking by their side you’re sticking by their actions,” Atlas frowned and shook her head again, “I’m sorry Daphne, I — I really think you’re all right but your friends are tossers. Just — what did you even want? Why did you follow me?”

“…I was going to ask if you’ve gotten anywhere with the potion for Astoria…” Daphne muttered, crossing her arms tighter and looking to the ground. Atlas took a moment to watch her, noticing the conflict across her face and defensiveness of her stance, she sighed.

“No…I’ve got some new ingredients that would help but not that final ingredient,” Atlas told, pulling gently at the Thestrals and smiling when it followed. She began walking, at a quick and even pace and noticed how Daphne followed. “The answers she gave to my questions did help, I was hoping you’d bring her to the kitchens sometime after Christmas break.”

“What if something happens before then?”

“I’ll come, I promise, just get Fobbo to get me,” Atlas said simply, patting the Thestral when it butted against her hip, “let’s hope nothing like that happens though, that’ll mean it’s happening faster and I have a horrible feeling it’ll be worse.”

“How worse?”

“I’m not a Healer and I’ve only seen her twice but to me, she looked two times worse the second time. So, if the first was times one and the second was times two then the next could possibly be times four,” Atlas rattled off, “but I’m hoping the pain doesn’t double each time so we’ll be lucky if it’s only times three.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, I don’t know medical terminology. So let’s just say the first time was 100% pain, the second was 200%, I’m hoping the next isn’t 400% and is instead 300%.”

“No, not that,” Daphne snapped. Atlas noticed the girl had a tendency to snap when it came to her family. How nice…and frustrating. “I don’t understand why it has to get worse, why wouldn’t it just stay at 200%?”

“Because that’s not how illness works,” Atlas said, looking over at her quizzically, “left untreated, illnesses fester and grow, they don’t go stagnant and just stop, they evolve, all blood curses do. They just get worse and worse unless she’s given medicine.”

“So…it could potentially reach 1000%?”

“…I suppose,” Atlas frowned and quickened her pace.

“And — and you’re saying you’re not even close to finding a final ingredient?” Daphne breathed and stopped, leaving Atlas to walk a few paces ahead before the girl came to a stop as well and turned, not meeting the Slytherin’s eye.

“I’m trying.”

“…you’re close to Professor Dumbledore,” Atlas saw where this was going. “I know you are so don’t try and deny it.”

“Daph –“

“Ask him, please.”

“You do it,” Atlas said looking over at her, blank-faced as Daphne stared back, a certain sheen over her eye.

“My parents have forbidden it. Astoria dislikes the idea of others knowing. She says she doesn’t like Dumbledore as well, says he seems like a bad person,” Daphne said, wiping a quick hand across her face that Atlas followed, “I don’t really care about what my parents say but…even though Ria and I don’t get along anyway, I’d rather not make her upset.”

“Astoria’s right, he’s not a good man. Not one you want to owe anything to either,” Atlas said  in return and started walking again, “I’ll find it…I’ll find the ingredient.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Does it matter?” Atlas furrowed her brows. “I’ll get the ingredient, that’s all that matters.”

“You promise this?”

“Yeah. I promise it,” Atlas noticed the class in the distance with a distinct lack of frog faced women, “join the class from a different clearing, it’ll look weird if you follow me all the way back.”

“I feel like a secret mistress.”

“After such a serious discussion you say stuff like that,” Atlas said, shaking her head. As if Atlas of the past hadn’t done the same thing. “You said it yourself, I like Hermione.”

“Hey, I said mistress, I wouldn’t be your main lady,” Daphne said with a shrug, “aren’t you into polyamory?”

“First, I don’t like you, second, no, I’m not into polyamory, I get jealous,” Atlas admitted and turned to Daphne with a look of warning, “if Hermione paid more attention to you, you’d end up missing.”

“Millicent says I like to push my luck, besides, that would never happen.”

“Yeah, lucky for me Hermione hates your guts.”

“Unlucky more like,” Daphne grinned and Atlas quirked a brow, “what might happen if she finds out you’ve been hanging out with me?”

“She already knows I meet someone who smells like cherries.”

“Does she know it’s me?” Atlas remained silent and Daphne grinned again, “I see…”

“Stay away from me.”

“Scared your girlfriend will get mad?”

“She’s not my — look, please Daphne, I don’t need more problems.”

“You’re cute when you beg. Like a little dog,” Daphne mused and Atlas scowled. “Don’t like the dog simile? Fine, whatever, I’ll go another way.”

“…thank you,” Atlas said, sincerely as she nodded, “I’ll have Fobbo let you know if I find anything, feel free to have him call for me though if you need me.”

“Sure,” Daphne nodded and Atlas bid her goodbye, turning to leave. “Hey.”

“What?”

“What happened to your face, by the way? Draco can’t punch for shit so it wasn’t him,” Daphne asked and she seemed genuinely curious, maybe — just maybe — vaguely concerned.

“…it’s none of your concern,” Atlas said and turned again, walking away. 

The Thestral trotted after her, pulling free from her grasp when they got close enough and into the paddock, presumably straight into its mother. Atlas joined her classmates, glancing quickly over to where Daphne had just emerged from the trees, joining her friends once more.

“So you knew the carriages were pulled by Thestrals this entire time?” Harry asked at her left and Atlas turned to him.

“Yeah, didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Atlas confirmed. “I didn’t like talking about them anyway.”

“Oh — sorry, I didn’t –“

“It’s fine now, I think they’re all right,” Atlas smiled and Harry returned the gesture, gaze momentarily flitting to the cut in her lip before returning to the lesson, eyes a lot harder. Maybe they would have to talk about it sometime, but not any time soon. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not really,” Ron offered, waving at her briefly. Atlas turned to Hermione, finding the girl’s attention solely on the Slytherin group.

“Just the Slytherin’s being detestable, as always,” Hermione added, eyes not leaving the girls all huddled around their returner. Atlas frowned, following the girl’s gaze and swallowing, hard. 

It seemed perhaps it wouldn’t matter if Daphne told.