Chapter 104

Today was the eve before they’d be going back to Hogwarts and Atlas, though eager to see Minerva, was torn, a firm frown on her face as she stared over at dad, looking glum at the dining room table, nursing, in his hand, a cup of tea Molly had made him. She’d just finished packing, her stuff stored and ready to go, she’d had no need for Kalo’s cage as the owl still hadn’t returned from his trip. But Atlas wasn’t necessarily worried about that, Kalo was known to disappear for long periods of time, no, instead she was worried for her father who would be alone again with only Kreacher and his horrible grumblings to keep him company. And Atlas wouldn’t wish that elves company on even her enemies.

She sighed and made to enter, stopped by the sound of the doorbell and her grandmother shrieking horribly. She grimaced and turned away, first throwing her grandmother’s fallen curtain back over her to stop her mumblings and then answering the door, welcoming whoever had decided to pay them a visit. Though her greeting was cut short, words caught in her throat as she looked upon that familiar greasy hair and hooked nose, dark eyes and pale complexion. It was Snape.

Why he was here Atlas didn’t know.

“Severus,” she instead offered curtly, her smile gone and friendly expression replaced with one of business. At Hogwarts, he was her professor, however here at headquarters they were equal, members of the same order. It was perhaps one of the better perks of being forced into their secret militia. “You have business here?”

“That I do, Black,” he hissed. His eyes bore into her, dark and unsettling. “But not with you.”

Just then another joined them. Molly came ambling in from the kitchen, drying her hands upon a towel busily as she stopped with them, looking between the two. There was clearly an unease to the air, some heavy dislike that soured the mood of any who stumbled upon them. Snape looked at Molly, straightening slightly and taking a moment as if the words he were to speak were not ones he’d ever thought would leave his tongue.

“I need to speak to Potter,” he said and Molly seemed to startle, Atlas the same as she eyed the man cautiously, “Dumbledore’s order, I’m afraid.”

“No need to sound so excited,” Atlas said. She couldn’t help herself, she despised Snape with every inch of her being, her very soul, almost as much as Dumbledore. Ever since the third year when the man had made it a habit to pick on Neville, jab at Hermione and ridicule Harry, sentence Ron to unfair punishments and turn a blind eye to most of the Slytherin’s heinous actions. It had only grown in flame.

“Watch your tongue,” Snape droned, glaring at her, chin raised. To make himself seem larger? Atlas assumed so.

“I should say the same,” Atlas mused and then gestured to where they stood, “you’re in my home, after all.”

“That’s enough, Atlas,” Molly said quietly, offering the girl a discrete smile before taking the girl by the shoulders and nudging her in the direction of the kitchen to where Sirius was, still staring into the depths of his tea. “I’ll go and get Harry, why don’t you take Severus into the kitchen, maybe brew him a tea while we wait?”

“I’d rather leave with my life, thank you,” Snape quipped, walking past them hastily. Atlas scowled as she watched him go, looking at Molly with a telling expression, the woman merely gave her a sorry smile and kissed her crown, muttering something about getting Harry as she turned up the stairs and vanished out of sight. 

Atlas sighed and entered the kitchen, sitting beside her father and crossing her arms, remaining somewhat defensive as Snape glared in the opposite direction. They were far apart but Atlas still wanted to move further, however, her father stayed seated so so did she, leg bouncing beneath the table as that thick air, full of mutual dislike, settled over the three once more. 

A few long and excruciating minutes passed before Harry appeared, glancing across the table hesitantly before coughing awkwardly, Snape’s attention snapped over to him and something soured in the man’s expression as if he had been hoping the boy wouldn’t have shown.

“Sit down, Potter.”

“You know,” Sirius began loudly, leaning back on his rear chair legs and staring at the ceiling, he looked at Snape when he continued, a scowl on his face. “I think I’d prefer if you didn’t give orders here, Snape. It’s our house, you see.”

Sirius motioned between himself and Atlas, the girl still glaring at her professor across the table. The Head of Slytherin flushed an ugly colour, embarrassed and angry all in one so that he looked quite odd, like a frog ready to belch a croak. Harry sat himself beside Atlas awkwardly and the god siblings muttered quiet greetings to one another.

“I was supposed to see you alone, Potter,” Snape said, eyeing the two Blacks with that familiar sneer of his, “but these two — unfortunately so similar –“

“I’m his godfather,” Sirius announced loudly, he motioned to Atlas with the back of his hand, “and Atlas is his godsister.”

“I am here on Dumbledore’s orders,” Snape snapped, his voice, in contrast, quiet and quick, waspish. Spoken with such venom Atlas would have recoiled had she been her younger, more timid self back under his tutelage, “but remain Atlas, by all means, dig yourself deeper within the Order’s business,” he said and Atlas glared, arms becoming crossed so tightly it physically hurt. “And of course, Black…I know you like to feel…involved.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius asked, all four legs of his chair now connected with the ground.

“Merely that I am sure you must feel — ah — frustrated by the fact that you can do nothing useful,” Snape stressed these words, knowing how to carve his way beneath Sirius’s skin, “for the Order.”

Now Sirius was colouring, cheeks tinting a horribly purple colour as a vein twitched in his head. Snape smiled at the triumph and turned back to Harry.

“The Headmaster has sent me to tell you, Potter, that it is his wish for you to study Occlumency this term,” He said and Atlas rose a brow. She knew of the branch, of course, the number of times she had heard Dumbledore muttering about it to himself when he was teaching her some sort of alchemy when she was younger. It was defensive magic, particularly to do with the mind.

“Study what?” Harry uttered blankly and Snape seemed to sneer further at this, his dislike blatant and unconcealed.

“Occlumency, Potter. The magical defence of the mind against external penetration. An obscure branch of magic, but a highly useful one,” Snape told simply and Atlas could see the questions blooming within Harry, that uncertainty creeping within him again, so she sighed and uncrossed her arms, speaking at last.

“It’ll defend you from Voldemort seeing into your mind, Harry,” she said simply, tucking her hands into her pockets, he turned to her, clearly fearful again, “don’t worry, it’s not as if he’s possessing you, all right, we’ve been through that. Occlumency is just a specific magic that directly combats Legilimency, which is essentially what Muggles call mind-reading.”

“Never refer to it as mind reading in my presence,” Snape gritted, grimacing at the word, Atlas only shook her head, narrowing her gaze. “You will receive private lessons once a week, but you will not tell anybody what you are doing, least of all Dolores Umbridge. You understand?”

“Right, who’s going to be teaching me?” Harry asked.

“I am,” Snape said with a raised brow and Atlas frowned, noticing how Harry looked between Sirius and herself, clearly quite disturbed by this.

“Why can’t Dumbledore teach Harry?” Sirius questioned, scowling again. “Why you?”

“I suppose because it is a headmaster’s privilege to delegate less enjoyable tasks,” Snape replied smoothly and then sent a subtle sneer Harry’s way. “I assure you I did not beg for the job.” He got to his feet. “I will expect you at six o’clock on Monday evening, Potter. My office. If anybody asks, you are taking remedial Potions. Nobody who has seen you in my classes could deny you need them.”

He turned to leave, his black travelling cloak billowing behind him and Atlas stood as well, eager to lead him out, hopefully, slam the door on him before he could properly step outside, maybe get his robe stuck, kick him down the stairs. 

“Wait a moment,” Sirius said, sitting up in his chair.

Snape turned back just as Atlas did, though sneering compared to her neutral expression.

“I am in rather a hurry, Black. Unlike you, I do not have unlimited leisure time.”

“I’ll get to the point, then,” Sirius said, standing up, he was quite a bit taller than Snape and the man seemed to glance between the two Blacks, apparently overwhelmed by their towering heights. No doubt threatened in a way, after all, Atlas had noticed how the man grasped his wand. “If I hear you’re using these Occlumency lessons to give Harry a hard time, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“How touching,” Snape sneered, taking a subtle step away. “But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?”

“Yes, I have,” Sirius grinned, proud.

“Well then, you’ll know he’s so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him,” Snape said sleekly.

Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table towards Snape, pulling out his wand as he went. Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius’s wand-tip to his face. Atlas watched, even faced and raised a hand when Harry went to intervene. Perhaps she should not be indulging the display, but she so badly wanted to see her father put the man on his ass.

“I’ve warned you, Snivelus,” Sirius spat, voice venomous, the two still inches apart, “I don’t care if Dumbledore thinks you’ve reformed, I know better –“

“Oh, but why don’t you tell him so?” Snape whispered. “Or are you afraid he might not take very seriously the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother’s house for six months?”

“Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he’s delighted his lapdog’s working at Hogwarts, isn’t he?”

Their insults flew back and forth, the sparks flying between them as Harry grew pale and Atlas remained stoic, watching, waiting, eyes darting between them. If they moved to hurt the other she would begrudgingly intervene, no matter how badly she wanted to see Snape knocked out again, she didn’t think it would bode well when she had to return to school tomorrow.

“Speaking of dogs,” Snape said softly, “did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognised you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform…gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn’t it?”

Sirius raised his wand and Atlas’s hand twitched for her own, ignoring how Harry continued to gesture to her urgently. He moved to intervene again at her idleness but she moved him out of the way. She had heard the door go, the shuffling of footsteps and excited chatter that sounded just outside. It seemed Arthur was home.

“Are you calling me a coward?” Sirius roared, his knuckles white around his wand.

“Why, yes, I suppose I am,” Snape tempted.

The kitchen door opened and the entire Weasley family, plus Hermione, came ambling inside, completely oblivious to the attention, all too happy to find Arthur with them again. And the man in question was just as delighted, walking inside dressed in a pair of striped pyjamas covered by a beige mackintosh.

“Cured!” He announced brightly to the kitchen and Atlas smiled softly, sending Harry a small knowing look, “completely cured!”

They all froze in the threshold, looking at the scene in front of them. Varying degrees of shock and distress on their faces as Sirius and Snape slowly fell from their positions, wands dropping from each other’s faces and hands seeking to fix clothes. Harry sighed a breath of heavy relief and Atlas plucked up a chocolate frog from her box on the counter.

“Merlin’s beard,” Arthur breathed, the smile falling from his face, “what’s going on here?”

It seemed the unexpected entrance of so many people had snapped the men to their senses and they briefly glanced at each other with the utmost contempt. Both wands had since been pocketed now and Snape turned on his heel, sweeping across the kitchen and passing the Weasley’s without a word. He looked back when he’d reached the door.

“Six o’clock, Monday evening, Potter.”

Then he left and Atlas leaned against the table, twirling her wand between her fingers as she ate.

“What’s been going on?” Arthur asked again.

“Bit of a disagreement,” Atlas offered when Sirius continued to stew in his ire, “Snape was being a bit of a tosspot, dad just chewed him out a bit.”

Sirius laughed shortly and shook his head, ruffling his daughter’s hair with a fond smile, “got that right, greasy prick, hey?” Atlas grinned and nodded in agreement. When Sirius turned back to Arthur his smile grew tighter, looking as if it took an enormous effort to uphold. “So…you’re cured? That’s great news, really great.”

“Yes isn’t it?” Molly said, guiding her husband into a seat. “Healer Smethwyck worked his magic in the end, found an antidote to whatever that snake’s got in its fangs, and Arthur’s learned his lesson about dabbling in Muggle medicine, haven’t you, dear?”

Her words were icy, menacingly, daring the man to say anything to challenge her.

“Yes, Molly dear,” Arthur replied meekly and Atlas huffed a small smile at the display. She seriously did not envy the man.

That night’s meal was cheerful in some regard, with Arthur back and very much alive, he buzzed cheerfully and happily obliged to any chatter that popped up. Atlas had managed to cheer her dad up some, not wanting to leave the man in low spirits, he did still laugh a tad too loudly at Fred and George’s remarkably unfunny jokes but all in all, there was still a small smile on his face, even when he was left to himself for a moment. He was a right sight better than he had been that morning, sat all broody like, but Atlas knew that could change in the morning, so she spent most of the night by his side. They caught up easily, falling into a smooth conversation. And when it ended, Sirius kissed Atlas’s cheek and softly wished her goodnight, watching as she climbed up to her room. She almost tripped over her trunk when she’d walked inside and cursed as she tucked it further along the wall. 

Tomorrow was the day then, in a few hours, Atlas would be on the Knight Bus to Hogsmeade village, apart from her father once more. She sighed and sunk into her bed, hands behind her head and gaze fixed on the ceiling. Again, she really was excited to see Minerva, to quell the woman’s worries and assure her she was ok but after the past couple of days and especially today, Atlas felt even worse about leaving her dad alone.

A quiet knock pulled her from her thoughts and Atlas peered over to the door, watching as it slowly opened and a head of untamed hair slipped inside, she smiled, sitting up and rubbing her eyes as Hermione closed the door shut behind her. “Hey, Mi. What’s up?”

“That…that was really intense earlier wasn’t it?” Hermione commented and Atlas raised a brow. She clearly had something else to say but seemed to have decided against it at the last moment. “Between Sirius and Professor Snape, I mean.”

“M’sure,” Atlas nodded, patting the spot beside her. Hermione stepped further inside and obliged the gentle beckon, tensing a moment when Atlas wrapped her arms around the girl’s waist and closed her eyes. “So, what d’you want?”

“Well, I wanted to return these to you, I realized I never gave them back,” Atlas opened an eye and sighed a laugh when she saw her gloves splayed before her, she nodded and hummed her appreciation.

“Thanks, Mi. Anything else?” She mumbled.

“You’re so difficult when you’re tired,” Hermione huffed and Atlas looked up at her again, curious this time. “I’m trying to make conversation.”

“Ah,” Atlas mused and sat up groggily, crossing her legs and looking at Hermione through the moonlight. “Ok…let’s make conversation.”

“All right…why do you still wear the gloves all of the time when we’ve already seen the…writing?” Hermione asked and Atlas hummed in the thought, raising her hands and motioning for Hermione to do the same. She did and Atlas slid her fingers between hers, their conjoined hands up in the air between them.

“I just like them,” she shrugged and squeezed, “they’re comfortable.”

“While I’m glad you do, they’re becoming quite ragged.”

“Part of their charm,” Atlas smiled and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Still, I’ve noticed they’re no longer doing their job, I tried sowing them but I doubt they’ll ever be the same,” Hermione told and Atlas nodded.

“Sure but just cause they’re a little broken doesn’t mean I don’t like them anymore,” Atlas said honestly and then dropped her gaze to Hermione’s hand in her right, frowning when she noticed how cold it was getting. “Ah, sorry…”

“It’s all right, the left evens it out,” Hermione said, still, Atlas withdrew her hand and fiddled with her ring, “you know…that really can’t be good for you, I’m surprised you can hold a quill,” she smiled, trying to catch Atlas’s eye.

“Me too, honestly,” Atlas offered in return, chuckling tiredly. “It…hurts sometimes.”

“Then I think it’s definitely not good for you,” Hermione said, this time with some concern.

“Yeah, but I can’t just…you know,” Atlas shrugged, gesturing noncommittally to her hand, “he adored this stupid thing, even though it’s some of my worst work, I always offered to make him another because off all the splinters this one no doubt gave him but he’d always declined. I feel like it’d be a bit wrong if I stopped wearing it because of some small discomfort when he suffered the same so readily. Plus, I just can’t bring myself to…”

“Well…what about this?” Hermione leaned forward, hooking her hands behind Atlas’s nape and unclasping the necklace from her neck, the bright green eyes of the carved cat stared up at her as Hermione sat it in her lap. Atlas eyed her curiously and watched as the girl’s hands cautiously reached for Cedric’s ring, slow so that she could pull away if she desired.

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me?” Hermione asked with a smile and Atlas looked at her, curious for a second before offering her hand to the girl.

“With my life,” Atlas nodded, smiling in return. Hermione seemed to huff slightly at the dramatics but grinned happily, gently pulling the icy onyx ring from Atlas’s finger and instead, looping it onto the chain of the girl’s necklace so it slid and fell beside the cat. Hermione looked up, smiled again and reached to return the chain around her neck. Their eyes never fell away from one another.

“There…no more cold hands and you still hold him close,” Hermione said, smiling at her genius.

“Oh…don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

“Because you’re a bit of an idiot,” Hermione supplied and Atlas shook her head, smiling slightly and finally drawing her eyes away.

“All right, all right, no need for that,” Atlas said and laid back down, she closed her eyes and hummed a moment in thought, “you going to abuse me more, or am I free to sleep?”

“Fine, I’ll leave if you really want me to,” Hermione placated, going to stand but Atlas caught her wrist, opening an eye.

“That wasn’t what I said,” she muttered, “come on…let’s have a sleepover.”

“What are you? Twelve?” Hermione teased, though she flushed, unnoticed in the dark.

“We literally had a sleepover with Lavender and Parvati not three weeks ago,” Atlas remarked, looking up at the girl, clearly unimpressed. “Get in.”

“Only if you insist.”

“I’m not going to beg.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a dog?”

“Get out.”

Breakfast the next morning was a thing of chaos, most of the house had slept in late and were slow to start so everything was muddled and disorganised, especially for poor Molly who had been flitting around the house desperately the entire morning. Waking up Harry and Ron who were relentless in the pursuit of a lie-in and softly calling for Hermione and Atlas when she had found them asleep together in the latter’s room. Fred and George were just as bad, they’d spent all night perfecting some new joke shop product and had scared their mother half to death when she’d walked in and found them headless, Ginny was perhaps the only one to be up early, already helping in the kitchen by the time the rest of the lot had left the land of nod.

Already sitting in the kitchen, Tonks and Remus were the first to greet Atlas when she had ventured downstairs, dressed now, with Hermione, Harry and Ron trailing behind her. Molly soon joined them when she had finally pulled the twins out of bed while Sirius teetered at the threshold, a mug in hand with nothing inside. His expression was distant, vacant as he stared upon its innards. Atlas found her heart had grown tight at the sight of her dad so down; she did not want to say goodbye to him, even though Minerva was waiting for her at Hogwarts. She wanted to talk to him but every time she inch closer he seemed to retreat further inward, eventually leaving the room altogether when Atlas outright approached him.

By the time it was almost ready to go, Atlas was fully frowning, brows furrowed and breakfast practically untouched. She was feeling guilty, guiltier than ever before, of course, she knew she had to return to Hogwarts and she had always known, since arriving here at the beginning of the holiday that Sirius would despise the day they left but to find herself in the present, it was a lot. Especially with everything that had transpired and the argument he had had with Snape the day before. Had Snape’s words really affected her father? Sirius didn’t really think he was a coward did he? 

Atlas ran a hand through her hair and turned her eyes to the ceiling, biting the inside of her cheek. Then, after a few silent moments of contemplation, a warmth lay against her thigh. She looked down, catching Hermione’s concerned eye.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, careful not draw any attention. Atlas only shook her head.

“I don’t know…it’s dad, he’s — I wasn’t that worried yesterday because, come on, it’s Snape, surely dad wouldn’t take it too hard but now…” Atlas trailed off, turning her gaze to the door where her father had been, “being in this house is no doubt driving him mad, I mean, he moved out and into Harry’s dads place when he was sixteen to get away from this hell-hole. So…I think being here might’ve left him vulnerable and because he’s vulnerable, Snape’s words might’ve actually done something.”

“You should talk to him,” Hermione said and Atlas nodded in agreement.

“I know and I’ve been trying, he’s just avoiding me,” she huffed, some annoyance twitching her brow.

“Now I know where you get it from,” Hermione remarked, smiling in some effort to alleviate the tension. A small pull tugged at the corner of Atlas’s mouth and she laughed quietly, shaking her head again with a soft disbelieving smile.

“Shove off, you,” she retorted faintly and then sighed, standing, “I’m going to go and find him, make sure you don’t leave without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hermione nodded and Atlas restrained herself from kissing the girl on the cheek, instead opting to pat the girls head. She left after that, excusing herself in a whisper to Molly and promising she’d be back soon before following her dad’s footsteps, poking her head in every room she passed.

It took a while to find him, after all, the innards of the house had been enlarged quite a bit, many doors and many rooms dotted about the place but eventually she found him, up in his own room. His old one. He’d been sleeping in one the spares during their stay so Atlas hadn’t really thought to check but the faint smell of his cologne leading up the stairs to the final floor told her otherwise. She made light work of the distance, stepping inside and closing the door behind her as soon as she entered. She made it a point to block the mans escape, remaining with her back pressed against the exit.

The room was a contrast to the greens that dominated the home, it was red, excessively so with Gryffindor pride adorned on every surface, there were posters of motorcycles and a singular bikini-clad muggle girl. Atlas huffed at that and eyed it quietly, eventually turning her gaze away with a shake to her head. A picture of the Marauders hung proud, untouched opposite his bed, Atlas examined that but not closely, she wouldn’t give her dad an opportunity to run. His room was the picture of rebellion and clearly conveyed the mans differences with his family.

“Running away from your own daughter is just a tad bit childish,” Atlas mused, hands behind her back. Sirius looked up from the old Gryffindor flag he was holding and huffed, grinning slightly. It looked a little dispondent but there was some humour behind it which Atlas was glad to see. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

“You think so little of me, Pumpkin. I would never,” Sirius said, though it sounded like the most unconvincing garble Atlas had ever heard and she had had to endure Ron’s terrible lying skills many times.

“Right and my names Harry Potter,” she replied dully. “I’m serious, dad.”

“I thought I was –” he caught the unamused look on Atlas’s face and paused, refraining from finishing his sentence with a cheeky smile. “I won’t do anything stupid, perhaps something rash?”

“You’re not helping your case,” Atlas frowned, “look, greasy haired Snape has no clue, all right? And Dumbledore’s a prick for keeping you here alone but what can we do? You can’t leave this place, dad and I’m sorry for that, just wait until your name is cleared. Then — well — we can go wherever. Your doing right by the Order by staying here, and to be honest, I’m glad for it. Means I won’t have to lose my dad as well.”

“Well then how do you think I feel, Pumpkin?” Sirius asked, standing from his seat and taking her hands in his, “knowing my own daughter is out there, putting herself at risk, getting hurt,” he brushed his thumb across the healing split in her lip, frowning further, “Atlas, your mother and I, James, Lily and Remus…all of the original Order, we joined so young so that –“

“We wouldn’t have to,” Atlas finished and nodded slowly, “I know…Moody said the same. But, look dad, I — I didn’t actually ask to be part of the Order. Harry’s the one who wants that, all of them do. They started a club and called it Dumbledore’s Army for crying out loud.”

“Though I don’t agree with recruiting them, I do agree with the DA. Don’t you?”

“I do, I do,” Atlas agreed, nodding, “they need to learn to protect themselves, I know that.”

“So, why didn’t you join?”

“I…because,” Atlas stumbled over her words, eventually sighing again, “because I was scared of them getting caught.”

“They would have and did start it without you. The risk of getting caught was always going to be there, with or without you,” Sirius said and Atlas pulled away, returning her back to the door and crossing her arms.

“I know that…” she muttered lowly.

“So why didn’t you really?” Atlas knew her answer, she just didn’t want to say it. “Atlas?”

“I came up here to tell you not to anything stupid…now that I’ve done that –” Sirius grabbed her wrist before she could turn. 

“If I can’t hide, neither can you, Little Star.”

Atlas looked at her dad, giving him a swift searching look, registering the seriousness of his eye. She huffed. When had her dad decided to grow up? “…it’s mainly because of them, that’s the absolute truth. Umbridge has a close eye on me and the chances of the DA getting found out are so much higher if I follow them around…that is again, the truth,” Atlas said and it was earnest, her reality, “but I also…I also know that if we were to get caught…the blame would fall on me and I — I would accept it.”

The grip around her wrist loosened and instead, Sirius brought his daughter into a hug and it spoke to her a thousand words of unsaid comfort. She sunk into it and held him tight.

“If your mother could see you now…she’d curse herself for naming you Atlas,” Sirius muttered and Atlas smiled, adjusting her hold and pulling her dad impossibly closer. “Please, Atlas…for your dear old dad, take care of yourself. Don’t get hurt, lighten your load, just…ah, I don’t know what to say…dad talks are new to me.”

“I think you’re doing all right…” Atlas whispered.

“Yeah?” Sirius asked quietly, kissing her head as she nodded. “I’ll behave, Atlas and know I’m so proud of you. You’re stronger than I think you realise.”

“Thank you, dad.”

A shout from the bottom floor, one that told them of their departure. However, Atlas did not yet pull away and Sirius didn’t protest. “I love you, Pumpkin.”

There was a long stretch of silence in which Atlas didn’t move, didn’t speak and neither did Sirius, until the girl moved so that her forehead pressed against the mans shoulder and her eyes fixed themselves on the floor.

“I love you too, dad…” It was soft, barely a whipser but Sirius had heard and his eyes had blown wide, a large grin splitting across his face.

Then she was gone, quickly descending the stairs with a brisk goodbye. Molly waited for her at the bottom, smiling softly only for it to turn into something more akin to concern when she saw the look on the girls face. It was completely white, practically as pale as a sheet of paper, she looked ill and relieved all in one, as if a great weight had simultaneously fallen from her shoulders and doubled in one swift movement.

Though her concern was unfounded and washed away when Sirius came bounding down the stairs a moment later, more happiness in his face then their had been during the days in which visitations were at their peak, exclaiming loudly, “I love you more! To the stars and back!”

Atlas had flushed and grabbed her trunk, offering her dad some vague wave of acknowledgement as she joined her friends on the pavement outside. Molly followed, offering Atlas some brief words of praise and a kiss atop her head that she had to bend for before talking to Tonks and Remus at the front of the queue. And when Atlas finally looked up, she caught the look on Hermione’s front, the simultaneous look of amusement and soft delight.

“Come on then you lot,” Tonks said as Remus quietly bid Molly farewell beside her, “the quicker we get on the bus, the better.”

Remus flung out his arm just as loud bang reverberated through the neighbourhood, sending distant birds scattering. There before them, appeared from thin air, sat a violently purple, triple-decker bus, it’s name ‘Knight Bus’ printed upon the plate at its front. Atlas had only ridden the thing once before and it hadn’t been a great experience.

The conductor, a thin and pimply youth in a uniform matching the colour of everything that surrounded him leapt upon the pavement and pulled out a card, preparing to read whatever it read. But, Tonks seemed to be in a hurry.

“Yes, yes, we know, thank you,” Tonks waved off swiftly, “On, on, get on –” and she shoved everybody on, their trunks tucked away with the rest of the baggage.

“I’ve always wanted to go on this thing,” Ron said happily as he looked around. Atlas would have warned him of the true horrors of the ride if she hadn’t found herself so stunted, gaze sort of dazed. She didn’t even admire the interior, which was perhaps the only good thing related to the Knight Bus, so really, she would just be experiencing the worst the bus had to offer. The trip itself.

“Looks like we’ll have to split up,” Tonks said as she looked around for any empty chairs, “Fred, George and Ginny, if you just take those seats at the back…Remus can stay with you.”

She proceeded to then drag Harry upstairs, who in turn dragged Ron, who grabbed Hermione who then took a hold of Atlas’s hand, guiding her up the steep steps up to the very top deck where there were two unoccupied chairs at the very front of the bus and three at the back. Tonks continued to the three, followed by an enamoured bus boy while Hermione took Atlas to the front and dropped herself upon one of the very dusty seats. Atlas joined her and tilted her head to the ceiling.

“I’m very proud.”

“Thanks…” Atlas muttered and then blinked, looking at Hermione in confusion. “Wait, why?”

“Because you told Sirius you love him, of course,” she said simply and Atlas flushed, sighing.

“Jesus, I don’t even know why it’s so hard in the first place,” she mumbled and Hermione looked at her, frowning in concern.

“Maybe…maybe because you didn’t hear it a lot growing up?” Hemrione suggested and glanced backwards before quickly shuffling through her purse as she continued, Atlas did the same, pulling out her wallet, “I’m not saying Professor McGonagall doesn’t love you because she clearly does, just…like yourself she’s more of an actions lady, she’ll convey it through that and though it obviously wasn’t her intention, perhaps it left you stunted?”

“I don’t know…Bella used to say it all of the same…so did Cedric,” Atlas murmured, “I suppose you could be right.”

“Have — have you heard from Bella?” Hermione asked carefully and Atlas frowned.

“No.”

The bus boy, Stan Shunpike, approached them with his ticket machine and both Hermione and Atlas handed him eleven Sickles each. As soon as the change left their hands, the bus began to move, swaying slowly. It seemed to struggle its way around Grimmauld Place, weaving on and off the pavement and when Atlas heard a familiar click, she held her arm out in front of Hermione and pressed the girl into her seat just as the bus rocketed off, they were flung backwards and then forwards when the bus resumed a regular speed. Atlas remaining still and Hermione the same with her help, however, at the back it seemed Ron had been thrown to the floor and Harry to the seat in front of him.

The sway of the bus was alarming as it swerved in and out of other cars, missing some of them so narrowly Hermione had to cover her eyes, practically shaking in her seat, Atlas only grimaced, pressing further into her chair when they took off with another loud bang. She couldn’t even bring herself to check their surroundings, barely catching a field of cows that flew by as they were soon flashed to another location, this time a busy street, then they were surrounded by tall hills and then — after another louder bang — tall, towering buildings.

Somewhere bellow them, Atlas vaguely caught the sound of someone wretching followed by a loud splatter, she struggled to keep down her own breakfast at the very detailed image the vivid sounds put in her head and closed her eyes, breathing in and out through her nose as they stopped again. This time, her momentary lapse of concentration caused Hermione to almost go flying forward, only stopped by Atlas’s quick hand.

“Th-thanks,” Hermione breathed shakily as Atlas stared at her, wide-eyed. The girl was forced into her seat again before Atlas could respond however and they were off, the brick world outside transitioning to one of snow. They were rolling through a snowy Hogsmeade but Atlas didn’t look around, instead she focussed on keeping Hermione alive and soon, they found themselves rolling to a halt outside the gates to Hogwarts.

Remus and Tonks helped them off the bus with their luggage, then got off to say goodbye. Ron was hanging onto Harry the entire way down and Hermione was in a similar state, apparently weak in the knees as Atlas guided her outside, surprised to find Pigwidgeon, Ron’s owl, on her shoulder. She had not noticed him that entire ride.

“I change my mind…I never want to go on that again,” Ron breathed, hunched over.

“I think I saw cows,” Atlas muttered, taking in a great gulp of air. “They were…munching on grass.”

“Yes, Atty…that is what cows do,” Hermione nodded, collapsing onto her trunk.

“You lot best get going…you’ll be safe once you’re in the grounds,” Tonks said, casting a look a round. She was unusually nervous today but Atlas didn’t say anything, she was exhausted already and it was only the early morning. “Have a good term, ok?”

“Yeah,” Atlas said, nodding and returning the hug when Tonks pulled her forward. Again, Atlas found herself bending to receive a kiss to her hair.

“Look after yourselves,” Remus said, shaking hands with Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and Ginny before pulling Atlas into a hug, “you especially, Little Star. Be well,” he whispered and Atlas held him as well, muttering some affirmation. “Make sure Harry takes his lessons with Snape seriously.”

“I will, if he doesn’t, I’ll clock him one,” Atlas murmured, very seriously and pulled away, picking up her trunk. Remus approached Harry last and Atlas turned to Hermione, pulling the girl up and taking her trunk as well. 

“Atlas, you’re not taking my trunk.”

“Mi, no offense but you look as if you can barely walk, let alone carry this thing…through the snow,” Atlas remarked and motioned to the snow of the bank.

“Great, then you can take ours,” Fred said, dropping his trunk just as George did.

“We’re walking on jelly legs,” George said.

“I only have two hands,” Atlas pointed out and the boys huffed.

“Grow another set then,” Fred said and then grinned, something sparkling in his eye as he turned to George, “hold on, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Product?”

“Product.”

“Great, when they end up losing both of their arms instead of growing some more, I’m telling mum your the reason,” Ginny said and Atlas sighed, frowning. “Unless you take my trunk too.”

“I just said I only have two hands!”

“And only one of them will be full!” Hermione added a moment later, snatching her trunk from Atlas’s unsuspecting grasp and hurrying up the slippery drive towards the castle. Atlas blanched, looking to her empty hand before gazing after Hermione, mouth open.

“Nice, thanks in advance, I’ll give you some belly rubs later!” Ginny grinned, dropping her trunk and running after the girl. The twins followed, begrudgingly pulling at their own luggage and both Ron and Harry soon did the same, both so lost in their own conversation the world around them was lost.

“No, wait –!” Atlas sighed and looked to Ginny’s trunk, lips a thin line before picking it up. “I’m still not a dog…I’m a dire-wolf there is a massive difference,” she grumbled, tugging their trunks along.

The seven of them continued up the bank, various degrees of struggle amongst them and soon came to the castle. And it was only when they had made it back to their Common Room did something disturb them. Atlas was just setting Ginny’s trunk at her feet when she heard her name, called frantically behind her. She turned.

“Minerva,” she smiled, meeting the woman halfway and accepting the bone-crushing hug she was given, saying nothing when her abdomen pinched painfully.

“My dear — my dear, are you well?” Minerva managed, pulling away and eyeing the girl in concern.

“Yes, Minnie…I’m all right,” Atlas assured, cupping her palms over the ones Minerva had against her cheeks. 

“Dumbledore, that fool, sending you –” she cut herself short, glancing around briefly before turning back to Atlas and stroking down the sides of the girl’s hair. “I’ve had words with the man, harsh ones — his actions are inexcusable, I — I cannot believe he would…”

“Minnie, it’s all right…what he did was a bit twatish but I’m all in one piece,” Atlas continued to assure, gesturing to herself.

“That’s not the point, Atlas! The prospect of sending you into a dangerous field when you do not even have your true wand is mad! Insanity!” Minerva exclaimed and Atlas smiled softly, nodding in agreement.

“You’re right, you’re right,” she eased and pulled the woman into another hug. “It’s good to see you.”

“My dear, it’s — it’s good to see you too, I…” 

She trailed off again, merely holding Atlas tighter.