Chapter 102

Dead rats scattered across the floor as Atlas tossed an old brown burlap sack at Buckbeak’s beak, the creature startling awake and squawking horribly, perturbed by the rude awakening, but he soon lightened, excitement shooting through him. His feathers shuddered and he chittered happily, standing — ignoring his dinner — and approaching Atlas, bowing quickly just as she did. The girl welcomed him quietly, arms open to receive his large head and hands roaming across the expanse of his neck, stroking him gently.

She had only seen the Hippogriff in passing during the summer and though she was delighted to see him, outwardly, it didn’t seem so and Buckbeak grew quickly depressed, pulling away to stare at her inquisitively, chirping lowly and nudging his beak against her cheek, curious and playful, trying his best to alleviate her mood. Atlas only managed a small smile, tired still even after her nap and moved over to the corner of the room, sitting and resting backwards when Buckbeak settled behind her.

When the beast didn’t move to eat, his attention solely on the girl tucked into his side, Atlas smiled softly again, “I’m all right, eat up, cheeky bird.”

And he obliged, albeit hesitantly, tossing a dead rat into the air only to catch it again as it fell. It was grotesque, completely horrifying actually but Atlas simply turned away, focusing not on the sounds of bones grinding together, snapping and twisting in horrible ways but on the light snowfall beyond the window. Almost unseen through the grime of the glass, cobwebs adorning every inch, the snow, at first glance, merely seemed a decorative choice but Atlas had realised it was the effects of winter soon enough.

The sight alone was enough to induce a chill upon the girl and so she grumbled lowly, buried her face further in her shirt and sunk deeper into Buckbeaks feathers, closing her eyes for a moment of respite. It didn’t last long, however, and soon the screams of her grandmother echoed shrilly throughout the house, vulgarisms and words of prejudice spitting from her tongue, hexes and curses — the incantations unmet and unfulfilled by magic — firing from the very depths of hatred that stewed within her. Atlas sighed quietly and stood, figuring her grandmother’s awakening was due to the return of Harry and the Weasleys’.

“I’ll come back, Buck,” Atlas promised quietly, opening the door and closing it just as Buckbeak offered his own vague squawk of farewell. She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, stepping over loose floorboards and avoiding those paintings that would awaken to deafen her until she was there, at the door and pushing it gently open. She welcomed them tiredly, “afternoon.”

“Pumpkin, you’re awake! Everyone’s just got back,” Sirius beamed, he seemed happy at the company, no doubt eager for socialisation to pull him from the dregs of loneliness he had no doubt been dwelling within. Being on house arrest, confined in a space he despised was no doubt taxing.

“Atlas dear!” Suddenly Atlas found herself within the embrace of Molly Weasley, her face smothered by the smell of roasties and Yorkshire puddings, an underlying scent of old perfume layered somewhere within. At least Atlas wouldn’t have to ask what they’d be having for dinner. “I cannot believe Dumbledore! Being in the field is one thing but being sent out with Alastor is another!”

“He’s right behind you, Mrs Weasley,” Atlas murmured, her words muffled as she raised a finger and pointed over in the ex Aurors direction. Molly tutted and pulled away, her hands on her hips, now that Atlas got a good look, the lady looked furious, rightly so, with puffy eyes and a red nose. Though that last one could have been due to the cold.

“I’m aware of that and he’s lucky he’s getting any tea!” Molly shot the man a glare to which he grumbled at the floor, “and what have I told you about calling me, Mrs Weasley!? Molly is just fine,” she half scolded and pulled Atlas into another brief hug, the girl smiling as she bent to meet the much shorter woman.

“Come on mum, you’re not the only one that wants to say hello,” Ginny said and moved forward, quickly taking her place when Molly pulled away with a quick apology, “hi, Atlas.”

“Hey, Gin.”

“You really should have seen Professor McGonagall when you portkeyed out of Dumbledore’s office, Atlas,” Ginny sighed, holding her tight, Atlas winced a little, not going unnoticed by her father but she waved it off, holding the girl just as tight while frowning at the image of her godmother, no doubt in bits when she had disappeared. “It wasn’t great, a few of Dumbledore’s pretty things ended up broken.”

“Deserved, honestly,” Ron spoke, sounding bitter as he crossed his arms, “git. I can’t believe he sent you to where dad got –“

“Ron!” Molly warned and Ron seemed to bristle a moment, his shoulders eventually setting and the scowl on his face turning to a simple frown. Atlas, who had never had Ron defend her so vehemently, stared over at the boy with a fond appreciation, smiling appreciatively when the boy glanced her way. 

“What did you find?” George asked and Atlas turned to him, expression turning solemn and brows furrowing. All eyes turned to the boy. “What? Am I not allowed to ask what happened to our dad? I think we’ve got a right to know.”

“Don’t you already know? Thought Harry would have told you,” Atlas muttered and pulled away from Ginny, massaging her wrist idly, “where is he, anyway?”

“Upstairs, love. Taking a nap I suspect, he went up there as soon as we came in,” Molly offered after sending her son a sharp look but Atlas didn’t focus on that, instead, she noticed how most of the children’s faces turned nervous, avoidant at the subject of Harry’s absence. Clearly, they had heard something they shouldn’t have.

“Right,” Atlas nodded, briefly glancing at Ginny who seemed to be telling her something beneath her breath. It was a suggestion she go and talk to him. And Atlas nodded again, “well…I’ll be going then unless there’s anything else?”

“Not that I know of dear,” Molly smiled just as Moody went to open his mouth. He seemed to think better of it, however, when Molly turned to look at him over her shoulder and though Atlas didn’t see the expression on her face, she assumed it was something quite frightening by Fred’s reaction. “Dinner will be ready soon, I started it this morning before we left, ended up at the hospital with my apron on. You could imagine my embarrassment.”

Molly laughed, though it seemed to be an overcompensation for something, Atlas didn’t comment on it though and figured she’d laugh with the woman, bidding her farewell moments later and shooting Ginny a meaningful look before venturing up, deeper into the house. Harry’s room was on the second floor, he shared it with Ron so Atlas figured if the boy seemed he needed it, she would offer he could sleep in her room. It was out of the way of the others also as the only other soul she shared her floor with was Buckbeak.

She knocked when she came to the door, smiling when she heard Harry vaguely telling Ron to ‘go away’, as she wasn’t Ron she ventured inside and closed the door shut quietly behind her, looking over at the boy with his sheets tucked over his head, form bundled into a ball. He quickly drew back his covers, frustration evident across his face before it melted away into something akin to relief. The covers were immediately tossed to the floor and soon Harry was in Atlas’s arms, holding her tight.

“Afternoon, Harry.”

“Afternoon, Atlas,” the boy responded, his voice a meagre whisper.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“I don’t want to burden you.”

“Don’t. You’re starting to sound like me,” Atlas huffed in an attempt to lighten the heaviness of the air. Harry did seem to chuckle slightly, though it was half-hearted and empty, dazed. Atlas recognised the sound as one she would make often and slowly frowned, burying her hand in Harry’s hair and pulling him closer.

“Never thought I’d see the day you became self-aware,” Harry whispered.

“Don’t get used to it. I’m pretty dense,” Atlas offered in return. She waited a moment before speaking again. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Course not, boy-wonder. You told me how much you’ve always wanted a sister that will rely on you and would let you rely on her,” Atlas smiled and then chuckled nervously, “I know I’m not so great with that first bit but I really will listen.”

“Yeah…yeah, ok,” Harry nodded and seemed to gather himself, his thoughts and worries, the words he would say and the ones he would withhold. Atlas only waited, looking over her hands and the scars that riddled them. It was only now she discovered the absence of her gloves, realising then that she wouldn’t be reunited with them until school started again, Hermione had them after all, and the girl was going skiing. “We…” Harry began and Atlas turned to him, listening intently, “we went to see Mr Weasley, did Sirius tell you?”

“Yeah, apparently I’d just missed you,” Atlas told and Harry nodded, swallowing solidly. “Does he look like he’s getting any better?”

“Definitely. Loads better than when I saw him in my –” he left the sentence unfinished and looked quite suddenly as if he were about to be sick. “Atlas, I — I heard Moody talking about me.”

“And…what did he say?”

“He said — they think — they think Voldemort’s possessing me,” Harry spoke, his words a whisper, so shaky the boy himself seemed brittle. Atlas quickly pulled him over to his bed, sitting beside him with an arm around his shoulder. “Because I was a snake and — and I was the one attacking Mr Weasley. I had thoughts, Atlas — thoughts of maiming him, I felt joyous, happy that I was fulfilling the wishes of my master — Atlas, I feel dirty, I feel — I feel contaminated.”

“Harry…”

“And I don’t know what to do, I don’t –” he broke off again, his breathing growing shallow as he stared into his lap, tears stinging at his eyes, his cheeks a furious red. He was shaking again, with rage, confusion — a multitude of emotions Atlas knew well. She understood, to an extent, how he felt but not completely, so she couldn’t properly respond, a frown falling over her face as she looked at the boy in her arms. “I don’t know what to do…”

“Harry…Harry, you weren’t the snake, ok? You’re not some — some Animagus. The snake was Nagini, Voldemort’s snake. I don’t know how or why you were watching through her eyes but it really wasn’t you,” Atlas assured, holding him close and sighing deeply, “look…the place of the attack it –” she didn’t know how to word her thoughts without giving to much away, “– it’s not a place you can Apparate into, I don’t think. I suppose Dumbledore’s portkey was enhanced somehow but in order to leave, Moody and I had to exit the room. And that means you couldn’t have been there physically.”

“I know…deep down I know but if I don’t think up these scenarios I’ll just be lost and — and frustrated. Not knowing is so much worse than assuming,” Harry huffed frustratedly, rubbing the tears from his eyes.

“Not when it’s driving you to this,” Atlas offered quietly and smiled gently, “but I know what you mean…”

“I just…I just want this to be over,” Harry breathed, his voice cracking and Atlas silently agreed, nodding slowly. She figured she should get Harry’s mind from it all now, knowing just how tiring it all was if you were left to your own thoughts with nothing to do. She idly wondered if her mother’s journals had been packed with her belongings.

“I’ll be right back, Harry.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to get something that might clear your mind of things,” Atlas supplied and left the room, climbing the stairs to her own and shuffling through her trunk. And there, at the very bottom, beneath her thicker coats and woolly socks, she found her mother’s journals, each of them holding stories of her years as a youth. Though Atlas only grabbed the ones she knew to contain stories of her adventures as a Marauder and her trips alongside Dorcas Meadowes, Marlene McKinnon, Mary McDonald and Lily. She thought maybe it might cheer Harry up. She hoped it would, at least.

She returned to the boy’s room, holding the books up in offering with a small smile, he eyed them curiously, slowly extending his hand as Atlas put them forward. 

“My mother’s journals, I remembered you wanted to read them at some point. I thought now was as good a time as any,” Atlas said and Harry straightened, turning to the books in his hand with some trepidation, he was clearly eager but his fatigued look only communicated this briefly. So briefly, Atlas hadn’t noticed it. “Is — is this a good time?”

“What?” Harry looked up, startled as he slowly realised the expression on Atlas’s face, “oh…yeah, yeah it is, thank you, Atlas.”

“Great, I promised Buckbeak I’d go back to him, you’re welcome to join me if you’d like?” Atlas told and Harry readily stood, clutching the books to his chest as Atlas smiled and led the way.

Of course, Buckbeak was inevitably excited when he was welcomed by not only Atlas but Harry as well and the Hippogriff was quick to stand, bowing to Atlas as she greeted him and watching Harry as the boy slowly did the same. For a moment, it looked as if Buckbeak wouldn’t bow in turn, though, it seemed it was all a jest as the bird appeared to puff at Harry’s obvious dismay, quickly bowing to ease the boy a second later.

“Not nice, Buck,” Atlas admonished as she sat against the belly of the creature. She flicked the raised quill atop his head to scold him and turned to look over at Harry, gesturing for him to take the spot beside her. He obliged, shifting to get comfortable as he turned his gaze upon the journals, hesitating a singular moment before flipping one open.

Hours passed of majority silence, a few tired laughs dotted here or there, their moments of quiet conversation remaining brief. Buckbeak had fallen asleep hours ago and Harry seemed to be well on his way, journals growing heavy in his hands, head teetering atop his shoulders, his body in its entirety inclining toward Atlas who remained wholly awake, fiddling with a broken half of her old wand, thinking on things initially to do with her mother. And then her thoughts drifted to the night prior, the attack and all that did and could have happened.

She frowned and furrowed her brows, turning her gaze to the ceiling. After talking to Harry, all she could think of now was that hall, of the things she had said to him, most notably of the fact Dumbledore had somehow procured such a proficient portkey upon such short notice, a portkey that not only took her to the Ministry undetected but within the fabled Hall of Prophecies no less. A place where apparating was not allowed. And thinking on it, the feat of doing so so fast was impossible, even for Dumbledore, which only meant one thing, Dumbledore had anticipated they might need a quick method into the Hall of Prophecies.

Was it because he had known something might happen? How? And then Atlas realised, the girl slowly straightening, Zasha had sent a warning to Ginny, in that letter Atlas had shown Dumbledore. A sudden dread washed over her. With this revelation came the indisputable proof Zasha had really been inducted among the Death Eaters. A sharp cry sounded from the kitchen, an announcement of dinner.

Atlas stood carefully, making sure to not wake Harry as she quickly left and entered the kitchen, a frown on her face and eyes entirely avoidant of Ginny, the girl stood with her mother by the stove, snacking on a Yorkshire pudding with her brother’s. She immediately made for Moody, smiling in vague greeting as Sirius announced her arrival loudly. It was a convenient coincidence she found Moody sat with not only her father but Tonks also.

“Atlas, happy to see you my dearest — er — distant cousin!” Tonks beamed pulling the girl down for a hug, Atlas reciprocated on instinct, offering her own quiet acknowledgement before pulling away, regarding the three as a whole.

“Could I speak with you all?” Atlas asked quickly, glancing over to the twins to see if they had donned some Extendable Ears. Much to her luck, they were too busy sneaking slices of meat from behind Molly’s back. 

“Of course, Pumpkin. Is something the matter?” Sirius questioned and Atlas shook her head, sighing slightly.

“I just — I just realised, Zasha, Ginny’s girlfriend, warned us of this — warned us something might happen,” Atlas told and Moody straighten, looking at her with interest. “A few weeks ago, Ginny received a letter, it basically said we should watch ourselves, to remain vigilant. It could just be a vague warning but with what’s happened I really don’t think it’s a coincidence. Zasha’s not stupid, she wouldn’t risk her life just to send us prayers. She knew something like this might happen.”

“Zasha…Zasha…” Moody grumbled as if recalling something from the past, “Ekaterina and Mikhail’s kid?”

“Yeah,” Atlas confirmed, looking at the man quizzically, “how’d you know?”

“Had a run-in with them in the past, was there when they were killed,” Moody told and grimaced. “Nasty scene, Mikhail was a nasty bloke, Ekaterina was — well, she was something, a bit of a sad soul, didn’t seem like she wanted to be there really. Only started killing when Mikhail got put down.”

“Zasha always thought Ekaterina was just as bad…do you think she wasn’t?” Atlas asked.

“No, she was…but, your ma always said some of the Death Eaters were undoubtedly dragged up that way, she said she understood them sometimes, didn’t excuse them of course but ask anyone from back then and they’ll tell you Amaya always spent the first ten minutes of a raid trying to talk a Death Eater down,” Moody said, a lost look falling over his eye as he fell silent.

“Sounds like her…” Sirius added a moment later, a sad smile on his face, “she said the same about my brother.”

“Uncle Regulus?” Atlas asked and Sirius nodded slowly, some odd regret upon his face. “I see…” she shook her head, realising they had gotten off track, “regardless, I just wanted to tell you what I found and…if either of you, Moody, Tonks, come across a girl that looks incredibly lost while on a mission. Please — please don’t hurt her, she’s a good girl, she’s kind, she’s — she’s my friend…”

“Of course, Atlas,” Tonks smiled, ruffling the girl’s hair with an understanding smile. “I usually go on missions with Penny, so I’ll let her know.”

“Who?”

“She’s an old schoolmate,” Tonks told, “we were in the same house, Penny’s girlfriend, Chiara is actually part of the reason Arthur’s recovering, she’s a Healer at St. Mungo’s. Penny comes with me on missions to keep me alive, on Chiara’s orders.”

“I see,” Atlas murmured again, “I’d like to meet them.”

“Maybe…they’re not actually a part of the Order, so they can’t come here but you’ll see Chiara when we go and see Arthur on Christmas,” the trip was news to Atlas but she nodded all the same. Seeing Arthur would be good, though she didn’t really know the man past a brief encounter, she knew he was a good man and was just as fond of her as Molly was.

“That sounds good,” Atlas mused and then yawned, covering her mouth.

“Still tired?” Sirius asked fondly. Atlas glanced over at him, realising now that Moody had since left, probably during Atlas and Tonks’s fleeting conversation.

“Always,” Atlas muttered, “thank you for listening to me about Zash.”

“It’s no trouble, Pumpkin. We’ll make sure she stays safe,” Sirius assured and Tonks nodded agreeably. Atlas smiled appreciatively. “I got you and Harry some food while you and Dora were talking, I don’t think the lot of us mind if you eat it upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Atlas said, taking the plates from her dad, “I’ll be going then.”

“Hold on,” Sirius said and Atlas turned to him, “d’you think the both of you’ll join us in putting the decorations up tomorrow?”

“…I’m not sure about Harry but I might, depends on how he is,” Atlas offered and Sirius smiled a little nodding as Atlas turned and left, throwing farewells over her shoulder as she returned to Buckbeaks room, food in hand. Harry stirred when she opened the door, bleary eyes gazing over at her through the moonlight.

“Your eyes are gold.”

“Helps me see,” Atlas told, sitting across from him and placing the plate at his feet, she had to send Buckbeak a sharp glare when the creature inclined toward the plate. “Eat up before Bucky gets his claws on your food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry nodded, pulling the meal towards him. They ate together in relative quiet, savouring Molly’s homecooked meal, made with a motherly love Atlas and Harry had never tasted growing up. It was nice, even despite the circumstances, the events and horrors that had transpired in the past forty-eight hours, it felt homely. “Why don’t you shift anymore then?”

The question had admittedly caught Atlas off guard, the girl halfway through a nice slice of turkey, “who says I haven’t?”

“Have you?”

“…no,” Atlas mumbled. “Does it matter why?”

“I think it does,” Harry said, leaning further into Buckbeak’s side. “I’m not great with talking to people but…I’ve talked to you about stuff today, you could do the same to me.”

“It’s nothing really, just — the last time I fully shifted was in the graveyard,” Atlas shrugged, “and, well…with Umbridge around I don’t want to chance being seen. I’m not supposed to shift at all in reality.”

Harry remained silent, clearly withholding a question. Atlas had a vague idea of what it might be.

“Do you still want to know why I’m afraid of Umbridge?” She asked and Harry looked at her a moment, lips forming two thin lines before he sighed, looking upon his near-empty plate. Atlas waited for some verbal confirmation, not wanting to burden him with the truth without his consent. It was a heavy story, after all.

“I already know,” he said but then shook his head, deciding his words weren’t at all communicating his thoughts, “no…wait, what I mean to say is I sort of figured it out. Of course, I don’t know exactly what happened but I — I gathered Umbridge must have hurt you when you were younger.”

“…yeah — yeah, you’ve got the gist of it,” Atlas huffed, laughing meagerly. “It was part of my trial, in order to verify I was ready to go out into the world, they enacted a test of temperament. It was rough.”

“I bet…” Harry nodded, apparently unsure of what to say. “I’m sorry for — for saying that stuff at the beginning of the year. You were right, I didn’t know Umbridge, I called you a coward, said you were an obedient dog…it wasn’t right.”

“The irony of that last one is quite funny,” Atlas smiled and Harry looked at her, apparently appalled. “What? It is…I’m not shifting, I’m not talking back, I’m not sticking up for my friends…I really am just an obedient dog to her. It’s funny.”

“It’s really not,” Harry said and Atlas looked over at him, huffing lightly and shrugging again. 

“I suppose not,” she agreed with a faint nod. “Anyway, I’m going to get some shut-eye. You want to sleep in my room?”

“If you don’t mind,” Harry said, he piled his plate atop Atlas’s and the girl waved them away with a flick of her wand, some distant shout of thanks coming from the kitchen, signifying their appearance. “Wish my wand wasn’t registered.”

“And I wish I had my registered wand,” Atlas sighed, patting her pocket. “Come on, I’ll take the sofa.”

“No way, you should –“

“Harry –“

“If you sleep on the sofa, I’ll sleep on the floor and neither of us will get the bed,” Harry retorted stubbornly and Atlas sighed, conceding quietly as they entered her room. It was perhaps the cleaned room in the house aside from the kitchen, so Harry was pleasantly surprised at how no dust kicked up from the sofa when he collided with it. 

“I lived with Minerva and frequented Poppy’s hospital, I learned how to clean properly through blood sweat and tears,” Atlas said when the boy marvelled at the interior.

“Brilliant.”

“Thought you’d say that,” Atlas smiled briefly, falling upon her own mattress. “Night, Potter.”

“Night, Black.”

As implied the previous night, everyone spent the following morning putting up Christmas decorations. That is, everybody excluding Harry and Atlas. Atlas could hear her dad singing  Christmas carols merrily, his voice carrying up through the floor and into Buckbeaks room where they were sitting, feeding the beast another family of dead rats. Or rather, where Atlas was sitting, feeding the beast another family of dead rats, Harry, on the other hand, was pouring over another of Amaya’s journals, apparently intent on escaping from the real world into the pages of the book, where he would sit amongst his parents and their friends as if he were truly there. And when Molly had called their names softly up the stairs for lunch, Harry had ignored her and buried himself further within his books. So, Atlas did the same, assuring Molly they were not hungry. 

It seemed Harry was in a worse state than the day before. Perhaps he had another bad dream, Atlas would have asked but Harry’s content expression made her think otherwise. She thought he deserved a few hours of respite.

So they spent the day up there. Atlas had ventured downstairs to help for a few hours but had eventually returned to Harry with nothing notable to report. Ron and Ginny had both asked how Harry was but that was all. Sirius had been worried as well of course offering quiet words he asked Atlas to relay to the boy but otherwise, the man was so happy for the company he looked none the wiser and Atlas idly thought she’d never seen him so delighted. She had been right to think the company was doing him good.

Then, around six o’clock, guests started arriving, the occasional screeches coming from Atlas’s grandmother becoming testaments of that fact, she would spew her usual curses, screaming even louder when nobody spared her any attention, be it good or bad and soon became the new doorbell. If Walburga Black was awake there was surely a guest to follow. All of which, Atlas thought were order members, perhaps Remus or Tonks, come to give well wishes or deliver presents for tomorrow so when someone hammered hard on the door moments later, Atlas and Harry were understandably disturbed.

Neither got up to open it however and Harry went back to his book, Atlas tossing her newly found ball up in the air and catching it again.

“I know you’re in there,” it was Hermione. Atlas missed a catch and the ball collided, hard, with her face. “Will you please come out? I want to talk to you.”

Atlas hurried for the door as Harry tucked the small journal in his pocket standing up also. The door was pulled open, almost off of its rusty hinges as Atlas greeted Hermione with an excited smile.

“Atlas?” Hermione breathed and she looked like the picture of perfection, her cheeks a rosy red, nose just the same as flakes of snow stuck to the strands of her hair like a crown. She was bundled in thick coats, a scarf wrapped up to her chin. 

“Who else would greet you like an overexcited dog?” Harry said offhandedly and Atlas shot him a glare, turning back to Hermione with a much tamer expression.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey yourself,” Hermione grinned and glanced over at Harry, the boy now standing at Atlas’s side. “Hello to you as well, Harry.”

“What are you doing here?” The boy asked after a curt greeting of his own. Buckbeak resumed his scratching at the straw-strewn floor behind them for any fragments of food he might have dropped and Atlas quickly told him off for ruining the floors. “I thought you were skiing with your mum and dad?”

Hermione, who had been watching Atlas in amusement, quickly turned back to Harry, cheeks tinting a further red at the boy’s look of half-hearted exasperation. “Well, to tell the truth, skiing’s not really my thing, so I’ve come here for Christmas.”

“Really?” Atlas asked, returning again, “I like skiing, I went once when I was staying at Durmstrang.”

“Oh? My parents go every year, maybe some time we can go together,” Hermione offered.

“Thought you just said it wasn’t your thing?” Harry said, an eyebrow raised.

“It isn’t but Atlas would make it fun, plus I wouldn’t leave her alone with my parents,” Hermione retorted, flushing further and glaring at the boy. “They were a bit disappointed, but I’ve told them that everyone who is serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. They want me to do well, they’ll understand. Anyway,” she began briskly, “let’s go to your room, Harry, Molly has lit a fire in there and she’s sent up sandwiches.”

“I’m not hungry,” Harry replied curtly, face set. “Atlas and I are doing something anyway,” Hermione frowned and looked at Atlas, brows narrowing, warning in a way.

“Well, I’m — I’m a bit hungry,” Atlas stammered, smiling sheepishly when Harry sent her a look. “A sandwich couldn’t hurt.”

“Christ…” Harry muttered and followed when Hermione began walking, Atlas dutifully following after her. 

They came to the second floor and when they entered the bedroom, they were met with the faces of both Ron and Ginny waiting for them, sitting on Ron’s bed. Atlas chanced a glance over at Harry, finding he was standing with a pinched expression, a subtle wrinkle to his nose. He was certainly not happy.

“I came on the Knight Bus,” Hermione said fairly, pulling off her jacket before Harry had time to speak. Atlas idly took it from her and hung it up. “Dumbledore told me most of what happened first thing this morning, but I had to wait for term to end officially before setting off. Umbridge is already livid that you lot disappeared right under her nose, even though Dumbledore told her Mr Weasley was in St. Mungo’s and he’d given you all permission to visit. So…”

She sat down next to Ginny and motioned for Atlas to sit with her. She obliged and the four of them ended up looking at Harry, the boy still plainly livid.

“How’re you feeling?” Hermione asked.

“Fine,” Harry said stiffly and Atlas grimaced, deciding to stay out of whatever was about to transpire.

“Oh, don’t lie, Harry,” Hermione said impatiently. “Ron and Ginny say you’ve been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo’s.”

“They do, do they?” Harry said, scowling at Ron and Ginny. Atlas thought that was a little unfair and looked over at Ron who was staring at his feet and at Ginny who seemed quite unabashed.

“Well, you have!” she said. “And you won’t look at any of us!”

“It’s you lot who won’t look at me!” Harry snapped angrily.

“Maybe you’re taking it in turns to look, and keep missing each other,” Hermione suggested, the corners of her mouth twitching. Atlas ducked her head to hide her smile and laugh, raising a discrete hand to her mouth.

“Very funny,” Harry snapped, turning away.

“It’s a little bit funny,” Atlas murmured, looking over at the boy. 

“Look,” Hermione began sharply again, though she sent Atlas an appreciative glance, “the others have told me what you overheard last night on the Extendable Ears –“

“Yeah?” Harry spat, his hands deep in his pockets as he turned his eyes to the outside. “All been talking about me, have you? Well, I’m getting used to it.”

“We wanted to talk to you, Harry,” Ginny said, “but you’ve been hiding since we got back, Atlas has been giving us updates but you never come down.”

“I didn’t want anyone to talk to me,” Harry bristled and settled a little when he looked over at Atlas, the girl looked back curiously, “well…I didn’t want most people to talk to me.”

“That was a bit stupid of you,” Ginny began angrily, “seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.”

Atlas straightened, going quite still at Ginny’s words as she glanced over at the girl, resolutely staring at Harry when the boy wheeled around.

“I forgot,” he said.

“Lucky you,” Ginny said cooly.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, and he seemed to mean it. “So…so, do you think I’m being possessed, then?”

“Well, can you remember everything you’ve been doing?” Ginny asked. “Are there big blank periods where you don’t know what you’ve been up to?”

Harry seemed to take a moment, remaining silent for a long while before shaking his head. “No.”

“Then You-Know-Who hasn’t ever possessed you,” Ginny said simply. “When he did it to me, I couldn’t remember what I’d been doing for hours at a time. I’d find myself somewhere and not know how I got there.”

“That dream I had about your dad and the snake, though –“

“Harry, you’ve had these dreams before,” Hermione said. “You had flashes of what Voldemort was up to last year.”

“This was different,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I was inside that snake. It was like I was the snake…what if Voldemort somehow transported me to London — ?”

“One day,” Hermione said, sounding thoroughly exasperated, “you’ll read Hogwarts: A History, and perhaps it will remind you that you can’t Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Even Voldemort couldn’t just make you fly out of your dormitory, Harry.”

“And I’ve already said to you about that Harry,” Atlas added, frowning, “you can’t Apparate into that specific place anyway.”

“What about a portkey then? Dumbledore sent you there with a portkey,” Harry pressed and Hermione seemed to freeze.

“I’m sorry, what?” She said, looking at Atlas with wide disbelieving eyes, “he did what?”

“You weren’t…told?” Atlas asked, looking at the girl apprehensively as she shuffled discretely back.

“No!?”

“Yeah, Dumbledore sent Atlas on a mission with Moody. They had to investigate the area dad was…attacked,” Ron said, looking bitter again.

“And you just — just went!?” Hermione said and Atlas sighed.

“It’s not a simple answer,” she said, patting Hermione’s thigh in an effort to placate her. “I couldn’t say no, Hermione. Unlike you guys, I am part of the Order, whether I like it or not,” she muttered, “nothing really…happened anyway.”

“Bullshit, your scar has reopened,” Hermione snapped. “That means — that means she was there.”

“Right, ok, Achlys was there but she didn’t do anything.”

“Hold on, you never told me Achlys was there,” Harry said.

“Cause I’m not actually supposed to tell any of you what happened,” Atlas hissed, frustrated now, “look, ok, Achlys was there, Nagini was there, I ran into them but nothing happened, I might have a small bruise but that’s it!”

“Nagini? The one that got dad?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah…that one.”

“A small bruise? Where?” Hermione pressed and Atlas grimaced. The bruise she had was in fact, not at all small.

“Doesn’t matter, the point is, no Harry you weren’t portkeyed there either. Dumbledore probably had it made in advance,” Atlas redirected, looking over at the boy while Hermione seemed to look her over, scanning any visible skin she could find.

“Yeah, you didn’t leave your bed, mate,” Ron said, nodding to Atlas when the girl glanced at him appreciatively, “I saw you thrashing around in your sleep for at least a minute before we could wake you up.”

“Wait, go back. In advance? So he knew this would happen?” Ginny questioned, eyes wide. Atlas looked at her, frowning.

“No, I don’t think so. Not specifically to Arthur, just –“

“Was it Zasha’s letter? Is that how he knew? So we were right in saying she was warning us about the Order?” Ginny continued, intrigued by the possibility her girlfriend’s words had been true.

“No, stop! Stop asking questions,” Atlas snapped.

“Take off your shirt,” Hermione rather abruptly demanded.

“I — pardon?” Atlas asked, looking at the girl, mouth suddenly incredibly dry.

“Take off your shirt, or your trousers, either, both, just do what I say.”

“That’s a bit forward,” Atlas joked half-heartedly, grabbing Hermione’s hands with wide eyes when the girl reached for her buttons. “Incredibly forward.”

“Should — should we leave?” Ron asked.

“No!” Atlas shouted just as Hermione waved them all away. “Look, ok, I lied, it’s a big bruise, a very big one but it will go away. I don’t have any broken ribs or anything, Nagini was just — just overexcited!”

“So she did hurt you?” Ginny asked, brows furrowed in concern, “Merlin, I can’t believe Dumbledore sent you there, that prick.”

“Honestly, what was he thinking!?” Hermione hissed, finally giving in and pulling away, “we’re going to St. Mungo’s tomorrow to see Arthur and when we do, you’ll get that checked.”

“Hermione –“

“You’ll get it checked,” Hermione repeated, her tone firm. Atlas sighed and nodded.

“All right.”

“Hermione’s right, after what that snake did to dad, we shouldn’t take any chances,” Ginny added.

“Yeah, yeah, ok,” Atlas nodded, harsher this time. “Now that we’ve talked, let’s go down and help, yeah? You’re all right with that aren’t you Harry?”

“What? Oh, yeah,” Harry nodded, smiling slightly. It seemed the chat had cheered him up considerably. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Atlas smiled and the five of them left, Atlas and Hermione at the back, the latter still eyeing the other in concern. 

“I’m ok, Hermione, truly. If I weren’t, you’d know,” Atlas whispered and then stopped, ducking down to kiss her cheek.

“What was that for?” Hermione asked, holding her hand to her face. Atlas pointed up.

“Mistletoe.”

“That’s a silly tradition…” Hermione muttered and Atlas stood tall once more, smiling and shrugging.

“Sure…I just wanted to lighten the mood anyway,” Atlas admitted, “don’t look so glum, Mi. It’s Christmas Eve and you’re spending it with your favourite person.”

“You’re right,” Hermione nodded and Atlas grinned, “On that note, I should go and catch up to her.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, obviously my favourite person is Ginny,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, expression oblivious as Atlas huffed.

“Ouch, Granger.”

“Well, who’s your favourite person then?” Hermione asked, smiling playfully.

“You,” Atlas stated and sighed, “but, oh well…didn’t expect for my feelings to be mutual anyway,” she mused, walking ahead. Hermione laughed lightly and caught up, pulling the girl down to place a kiss of her own against her cheek.

“Don’t worry, the feelings are definitely mutual.”

“Better be.”

Oh, she hoped they’d be.