Chapter 18

A sudden breeze blew back Atlas’s hair and she winced at the biting cold, looking through narrowed eyes at who had entered. Unsurprisingly, the newcomers were Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and Hagrid followed by the minister, Cornelius Fudge, himself. She knew they’d be here – besides the minister – because she’d always see Minerva when she’d visited with Cedric and Bella, it was the last trip of the term after all. 

However, Harry seemed to have a very different reaction and at the sight of them, she heard him choke on his butterbeer and saw Hermione and Ron practically shove the boy beneath the table. “Mobiliarbus!“

The Christmas tree beside their table rose a few inches off the ground, drifted sideways, and landed with a soft thump right in front of their table, hiding them from view. Atlas took up Ron’s discarded butterbeer and sipped from it nonchalantly, she had nothing to worry about, she had permission to be in Hogsmeade after all, unlike the boy who apparently lived under the table now.

The teachers and minister – when she had heard his voice Atlas had scowled – settled into idle chatter, accepting their drinks from Madam Rosmerta and even inviting her to join them. Atlas knew Fudge had only done it out of convenience, he wasn’t ever simply nice for the sake of being, that just wasn’t him. Beside her, however, Hermione seemed to twitch nervously, obviously not sharing the nonchalant sentiment Atlas had.

To assure her, Atlas took the girls hand in her own casually, looking across the room through the thick of the Christmas tree as she sipped on her stolen butterbeer – Ron clearly didn’t miss it, he was too frozen to have even noticed. The act seemed to calm her as, soon, Hermione was back to her own drink, chewing on a few sweets she had bought from Honeydukes.

“So, what brings you to this neck of the woods, Minister?” came Madam Rosmerta’s voice.

Atlas didn’t really pay attention even as she heard the minister shift in his seat and even when she heard his next words, “What else, m’dear, but Sirius Black? I daresay you heard what happened up at the school at Halloween?”

“I did hear a rumour,” Rosmerta admitted and Atlas rolled her eyes, her mood now completely shifted to one of annoyance, she’d wanted to get away from the talk of her father, wanted to enjoy the day with her friends but that clearly wasn’t happening, and she couldn’t have just got up and moved.

“Did you tell the whole pub, Hagrid?” Minerva asked exasperatedly and Atlas scoffed into her stolen drink, looking at Hermione confusedly when the girl nervously offered her a chocolate frog.

“Do you think Black’s still in the area, Minister?” Madam Rosmerta whispered just as Atlas took it, not letting the chatter get to her, she never had, so why would she start now?

“I’m sure of it,” Fudge said shortly and Atlas felt Harry shuffle at her feet.

“You know that the Dementors have searched the whole village twice?” Madam said Rosmerta, a hint of hostility in her words. “Scared all my customers away…It’s very bad for business, Minister.”

“Rosmerta, dear, I don’t like them any more than you do,” Fudge said uncomfortably. “Necessary precaution…unfortunate, but there you are…I’ve just met some of them. They’re in a fury against Dumbledore — he won’t let them inside the castle grounds.”

“I should think not,” Minerva interjected sharply and Atlas mentally pounded her fist into the air, a satisfied smile on her face despite the topic, “How are we supposed to teach with those horrors floating around? Just a few weeks ago a student was almost attacked!”

“Hear, hear!” Professor Flitwick cried.

“All the same,” Fudge challenged, “they are here to protect you all from something much worse…We all know what Black’s capable of…”

“Do you know, I still have trouble believing it,” Madam Rosmerta said thoughtfully and Atlas halted, the chocolate frog flailing in her hand, “Of all the people to go over to the Dark Side, Sirius Black was the last I’d have thought…I mean, I remember him when he was a boy at Hogwarts. If you’d told me then what he was going to become, I’d have said you’d had too much mead.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Rosmerta,” Fudge said gruffly. “The worst he did isn’t widely known.”

Atlas’s heart clenched painfully, her eyes going slightly wider as she dropped the frog and didn’t even notice as it hopped away. She pulled her hand from Hermiones as it grew numb, clasping them together as a bulb a little ways away burst unexpectedly and a row of mugs shattered where they were displayed. Many people startled but soon went back to their drinks when a renowned troublemaker at the bar was kicked out of the pub, accused of being the one to do so.

“The worst?” Madam Rosmerta said and the curiosity in her voice made Atlas sick. “Worse than murdering all those poor people, you mean?”

That further made her stomach churn as she tried, desperately, to calm herself down.

“I certainly do,” Fudge said.

“I can’t believe that. What could possibly be worse?”

“You say you remember him at Hogwarts, Rosmerta,” Minerva murmured and the sadness in her voice made Atlas’s heartbreak, she’d never spoken about Sirius Black, nor her mother in length, always shifted the topic when she asked, so hearing her talk about it felt foreign and wrong. “Do you remember who his best friend was?”

“Naturally,” Rosmerta laughed cheerily as if they weren’t discussing a man who’d ruined Atlas’s life and many others, “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”

Harry dropped his tankard, with a loud clunk, on Atlas’s foot and the girl went ridged herself, going through exercises in her head. Her mother had spoken about it in her journal, touched on Sirius and James, their friendship but Atlas had never known they were so close, always assumed they were just housemates.

“Precisely,” Minerva said and her input still irked Atlas. “Black and Potter. Ringleaders of their little gang. Both very bright, of course — exceptionally bright, in fact — but I don’t think we’ve ever had such a pair of troublemakers –“

“I dunno,” Hagrid chuckled. “Fred and George Weasley could give ’em a run fer their money.”

“You’d have thought Black and Potter were brothers!” Professor Flitwick chimed in. “Inseparable!”

“Of course they were,” Fudge grumbled as if it were obvious. “Potter trusted Black beyond all his other friends. Nothing changed when they left school. Black was best man when James married Lily. Then they named him godfather to Harry and Black named James godfather to Atlas. The children have no idea, of course. You can imagine how the idea would torment them.”

And it did, Atlas’s eyes were now swimming with tears, threatening full flooding as she continued listening. Her hands were no longer pouring pure magic, she was, instead, too numb to truly process the clenching of her heart. Hermione was there, carefully and slowly pulling her into a hug, giving her space to reject it but Atlas was frozen solid. Ron had his hand on Harry’s shoulder beneath the table, no doubt comforting him too. Merlin knew they needed it.

“Because Black turned out to be in league with You-Know-Who?” Madam Rosmerta whispered.

“Worse even than that, m’dear…” Fudge dropped his voice and Atlas braced herself, closing her eyes tight as a few tears spilt over her cheeks, “Not many people are aware that the Potters knew You-Know-Who was after them. Dumbledore, who was, of course, working tirelessly against You-Know-Who, had a number of useful spies. One of them tipped him off, and he alerted James and Lily at once. He advised them to go into hiding. Well, of course, You-Know-Who wasn’t an easy person to hide from. Dumbledore told them that their best chance was the Fidelius Charm.”

“How does that work?” Rosmerta was so interested, so curious it made Atlas sick, why was she so fascinated by the subject? She just wanted her to stop asking so many questions. For her to stop digging for details.

“An immensely complex spell,” Flitwick said after clearing his throat, “involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find — unless, of course, the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret-Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could search the village where Lily and James were staying for years and never find them, not even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting room window!”

And it all clicked into place in Atlas’s mind. Sirius Black was their Secret-Keeper, Sirius Black had ratted out Harry’s parents to Voldemort, Sirius Black was the reason Harry’s parents were dead, Sirius Black wasn’t just a serial killer, he was a traitor, he betrayed his best friends and their son, he betrayed her mother who she knew had been working tirelessly against Voldemort, he betrayed everyone. He betrayed her.

“So Black was the Potters’ Secret-Keeper?” Madam Rosmerta questioned.

“Naturally,” Minerva murmured. “James told Dumbledore that Black would die rather than tell where they were, that Black was planning to go into hiding himself…and yet, Dumbledore remained worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters’ Secret-Keeper himself.”

“He suspected Black?” Madam Rosmerta gasped.

“He was sure that somebody close to the Potters had been keeping You-Know-Who informed of their movements,” Professor McGonagall said darkly. “Indeed, he had suspected for some time that someone on our side had turned traitor and was passing a lot of information to You-Know-Who.”

“But James Potter insisted on using Black?”

“He did,” Fudge said heavily. “And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed –“

“Black betrayed them?” Madam Rosmerta finished.

“He did indeed. Black was tired of his double-agent role, he was ready to declare his support openly for You-Know-Who, and he seems to have planned this for the moment of the Potters’ death. But, as we all know, You-Know-Who met his downfall in little Harry Potter. Powers gone, horribly weakened, he fled. And this left Black in a very nasty position indeed. His master had fallen at the very moment when he, Black, had shown his true colours as a traitor. He had no choice but to run for it –“

“Filthy, stinkin’ turncoat!” Hagrid said, so loudly that Atlas flinched, “I met him!” he practically growled. “I musta bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! It was me what rescued Harry from Lily an’ James’s house after they was killed! Jus’ got him outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an’ his parents dead…an’ Sirius Black turns up, on that flyin’ motorbike he used ter ride. Never occurred ter me what he was doin’ there. I didn’ know he’d bin Lily an’ James’s Secret-Keeper. Didn’ know Amaya had bin killed either! Thought he’d jus’ heard the news o’ You-Know-Who’s attack an’ come ter see what he could do. White an’ shakin’, he was. An’ yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN’ TRAITOR!”

“Hagrid, please!” Professor McGonagall tried. “Keep your voice down!”

“How was I ter know he wasn’ upset abou’ Lily an’ James, not even Amaya? It was You-Know-Who he cared abou’! An’ then he says, ‘Give Harry ter me, Hagrid, I’m his godfather, I’ll look after him –‘ Ha! But I’d had me orders from Dumbledore, an’ I told Black no, Dumbledore said Harry was ter go ter his aunt an’ uncle’s. Black argued, but in the end, he gave in. Told me ter take his motorbike ter get Harry there. ‘I won’t need it anymore,‘ he says.”

Atlas covered her ears, feeling, seconds later, another pair of hands overlapping hers and smelt the hint of melted chocolate, syrup and peaches that came with them. It comforted her for a moment before Hagrid started up again, his voice reaching her ears even through the two layers of hands.

“I shoulda known there was somethin’ fishy goin’ on then. He loved that motorbike, the Potters had bought it for him! Amaya had customised it! What was he givin’ it ter me for? Why wouldn’ he need it anymore? Fact was, it was too easy ter trace. Dumbledore knew he’d bin the Potters’ Secret-Keeper. Black knew he was goin’ ter have ter run fer it that night, knew it was a matter o’ hours before the Ministry was after him,” he grumbled, still seething with rage, “but what if I’d given Harry to him, eh? I bet he’d’ve pitched him off the bike halfway out ter sea. His bes’ friends’ son! But when a wizard goes over ter the Dark Side, there’s nothin’ and no one that matters to em anymore not even their own wives and kids…”

A long silence followed Hagrid’s story. Then Madam Rosmerta started anew, “And what about young Amaya? Atlas?”

No one answered that, not yet, until Minerva’s shaky voice sounded and Atlas bit her lip, dreading the story to come next, “W-well…Amaya, I truly doubt she knew of Black’s true desires, never found out…that lovely girl, she really was lovely,” she sighed heavily, “Everyone thinks she met her end around the same time You-Know-Who was defeated but that truly wasn’t the case…she was killed September 6th–“

“Isn’t that–?”

“Atlas’s birthday?” Minerva finished and Atlas felt Harry’s hand dart to her knee, “Yes…yes it is…the poor babe, I found her, crying and screaming, face covered in cuts and body bathed in her own and her mother’s…” she didn’t finish but Atlas knew what she was going to say, the images flashing on the underside of her eyelids, “it was awful, I still remember the day, so very vividly, Atlas does too, still has nightmares the poor girl…”

“Oh my…” Madam Rosmerta gasped, “Do you think Black knew?”

“I don’t think he cared,” Fudge sniffed, “he’s suspected to be the one to sell her location.”

“No…” Rosmerta breathed and Atlas bit her lip, a sob threatening to wrack her body as Harry’s hold of her knee tightened, Hermione returned her arms around her and Ron’s newly placed hand on her shoulder stiffened.

“I suspect Black never really cared about Amaya nor Atlas,” Fudge continued. “A terrible man he is. Atlas was just a means to an end, you see Amaya was incredibly weak after the girls birth, no doubt Black’s plan.”

“Atlas was not just a means to an end!” Minerva quickly shot down, “Not to Amaya! That girl, she loved Atlas with all her heart.”

“Ah, forgive me, Minerva…” Fudge grew uncomfortable, “I only meant to Sirius she was a means to an end, he didn’t love her. I imagine he would have tried to take her with him if he did, brought her up into a monster.”

“He didn’t manage to disappear though, did he? The Ministry of Magic caught up with him after You-Know-Who was weakened!” Madam Rosmerta said.

“Alas, if only we had,” Fudge said bitterly. “It was not we who found him. It was little Peter Pettigrew — another of the Potters’ friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, and knowing that Black had been the Potters’ Secret-Keeper, he went after Black himself.”

“Pettigrew…that fat little boy who was always tagging around after them at Hogwarts?” Rosmerta asked.

“Hero-worshipped Black and Potter,” Minerva sniffled, still apparently recovering from her telling. “Never quite in their league, talent-wise. I was often rather sharp with him. You can imagine how I — how I regret that now…” She sounded as though she had a sudden head cold.

“There, now, Minerva,” Fudge said kindly, “Pettigrew died a hero’s death. Eyewitnesses — Muggles, of course, we wiped their memories later — told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing, ‘Lily and James, Sirius! Even Amaya! How could you?’ And then he went for his wand. Well, of course, Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens….”

Professor McGonagall blew her nose and said thickly, “Stupid boy…foolish boy…he was always hopeless at duelling…should have left it to the Ministry …”

“I tell yeh, if I’d got ter Black before little Pettigrew did, I wouldn’t’ve messed around with wands — I’d’ve ripped him limb — from — limb,” Hagrid growled.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hagrid,” Fudge said sharply. “Nobody but trained Hit Wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Squad would have stood a chance against Black once he was cornered. I was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes at the time, and I was one of the first on the scene after Black murdered all those people. I — I will never forget it. I still dream about it sometimes. A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him…a heap of bloodstained robes and a few — a few fragments –“

Fudge’s voice stopped abruptly and so did Atlas’s thoughts, she opened her eyes again, staring motionlessly at the wall across from her. She felt sick.

“Well, there you have it, Rosmerta,” Fudge finished and Atlas hoped they’d leave, so she could run, get away from it all. “Black was taken away by twenty members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad and Pettigrew received the Order of Merlin, First Class, which I think was some comfort to his poor mother. Black’s been in Azkaban ever since.”

Madam Rosmerta let out a long sigh. “Is it true he’s mad, Minister?”

“I wish I could say that he was,” Fudge said slowly. “I certainly believe his master’s defeat unhinged him for a while. The murder of Pettigrew and all those Muggles was the action of a cornered and desperate man — cruel… pointless. Yet I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban. You know, most of the prisoners in there sit muttering to themselves in the dark; there’s no sense in them…but I was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke quite rationally to me. It was unnerving. You’d have thought he was merely bored — asked if I’d finished with my newspaper, cool as you please, said he missed doing the crossword. Yes, I was astounded at how little effect the Dementors seemed to be having on him — and he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night.”

“But what do you think he’s broken out to do?” Madam Rosmerta asked. Her curiosity was Atlas’s curse, she didn’t want to hear anymore, didn’t want to know anymore, she knew enough. “Good gracious, Minister, he isn’t trying to rejoin You-Know-Who, is he?”

“I daresay that is his — er — eventual plan,” Fudge said evasively. “But we hope to catch Black long before that. I must say, You-Know-Who alone and friendless is one thing…but give him back his most devoted servant, and I shudder to think how quickly he’ll rise again…”

There was a small clink of glass on wood. Someone had set down their glass. “You know, Cornelius, if you’re dining with the headmaster, we’d better head back up to the castle,” Minerva voiced and almost as soon as she said this, one by one the occupants of the table beyond the Christmas tree rose, all of them slipping out into the main of Hogsmeade village, the door to the Three Broomsticks clattering shut once.

Harry shuffled out from beneath the table and stared at Atlas as the girl continued gazing at the wall, silent tears falling down her face, her eyes distant. Hermione was anxiously looking between the two, Ron next to her shocked into silence. “Atlas…” He murmured, voice cracking slightly, “guess — guess that means we’re basically brother and sister. I’ve always wanted a sibling.”

Abruptly, Atlas stood, brought Harry into a fast hug, tears still steadily streaming down her face, pulled away and placed a kiss on his scar before picking up her cloak and pushing the Christmas tree out of the way. The trio hurried to go after her, Harry in a sort of daze but when they got outside, she was long gone, not a trace of her left behind.

Giant paws pounded against the snow-covered ground as Atlas raced through the Forbidden Forest, her claws bared and jaws curled up into a snarl. She threw herself at a tree, snapping it from its trunk and panted heavily as she watched it fall, shifting with a quiet crack as the timber collided with the forest floor. That painful grasp returned around her heart and her fingers grew numb again, spreading up the length of her arm.

She sobbed, collapsing to her knees and pressing her forehead against the ground, fists bawled and her entire frame shaking with anger, remorse, sadness, guilt, everything, not caring that a Dementor may show up at any moment. It was all so overwhelming, the story of her father and James Potter, their friendship turned into ultimate betrayal. Then, the one of her mother and her, how she was just a means to an end, how she had made her mother weak, how her father didn’t love her and how her mother loved her too much.

In the spur of it all, Atlas hadn’t noticed the stray dog pad over to her, hadn’t noticed how it hurried to cheer her up, only somehow managed to open her arms to her fluffy friend. Not knowing where it had come from or its true name, just knowing it was there for her.

“He killed them.” She sobbed into the dog’s fur, “My dad. H-he betrayed them, he killed Harry’s parents…” The dog whined and cried with her, “they said he sold out my mum, that I was just a means to an end and he didn’t love me…I — I know I shouldn’t care but it still hurts…”

Snow silently fell around them, setting in Atlas’s hair as she shook. They sat like that for hours, the cold seeping through Atlas’s many layers, her erratic breathing slowing to a calmer pace, clouds leaving her mouth. Her arms, though, had warmed, regaining their feeling as her heartbeat strong once more. Unsurprisingly her eyes had gone red-raw, hair sticking to her face from where her tears had soaked the strands.

Yet the dog stayed, licking her face clean a few times when she’d calmed down to soft hiccups, her knees drawn to her stomach. She hugged herself tightly, sniffling every now and then as the dog moved to sit next to her, head in her lap when she allowed him to. Now she was hugging him, the two of them watching a pair of robins perch themselves on a fallen log.

“I don’t know how I’m going to face him…” Atlas’s voice cracked, “how I’m going to face any of them…” the dog chuffed, brushing against her knuckles with his snout. “You know what he said when he came out from beneath the table? After finding out we’re god siblings and after finding out what my dad did, you know he goes and he says,” She sniffled and laughed shortly, “he says, ‘I’ve always wanted a sibling’.”

The robins took flight and Atlas watched them go, rubbing at her eyes as she sniffled again.

“And you know what? I’d never thought about it til now but I guess I’ve always wanted a sibling too, subconsciously…” she sobbed again and furiously wiped at the tears with her palm, “just sucks I realised how much I wanted a family at the same time I realised my family didn’t want me. Only my mum did and she died for it…”

No sound left the dog, he didn’t even move, just started into the snow, Atlas doing the same and thinking nothing of it. The only thoughts she had were the ones regarding the trio. How would she face them? Talk to them? She was certain she could avoid the boys but Hermione? They shared a room.

“What am I going to do…?”