Chapter 108

Consequences were things Atlas took most of her time worrying over, she considered them every moment of the day, they kept her up at night and haunted her mornings, yet she had neglected to consider what might happen to her when the interview she had done alongside Harry with Rita was published. She was not aware of it, not at all in the weeks following, so occupied with the DA, teaching them all wandless and nonverbal magic, she hadn’t had time to worry. It had been a distraction, one she found herself enjoying but weeks later, after Gryffindor’s defeat at the hands of the Hufflepuff’s team, it all caught up to her.

It had been Monday morning, a regular morning, the post had come, packages had been dropped and letters served, Atlas hadn’t been expecting anything, and no one at the table had beside Hermione. The girl always received a Daily Prophet and today was no different in that regard, however, Atlas found herself with a letter and then another and then another, until a dozen owls surrounded her, large eyes expectant as if waiting for something, even those that were there for Harry. Until the entire table was covered in owls, some large some rather small, each with letters or little parcels addressed to either her or Harry.

At first, she was rather lost, face inquisitive as she petted each owl and gave them all some feed but then Hermione had pulled out a Quibbler and it was all made clear, there on the front cover in large red letters beneath a picture of herself and Harry read the words:

Harry Potter and Atlas Magianima speak out at last:

The truth about He Who Must Not Be Named
and the night we saw him return

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Luna asked, suddenly appearing before them out of the blue and seating herself beside Atlas. “It came out yesterday, I asked Dad to send a free copy. I expect all these,” she motioned to the owls all vying for Atlas’s attention, some even jumping atop others to get closer, “are letters from readers.”

“That’s what I thought,” Hermione said eagerly, glancing at Atlas who become some sort of ledge for a handful of owls, “you two, d’you mind if we –?”

“Help yourself,” Harry nodded, smiling amusedly.

“Sure, go ahead, Mi,” Atlas nodded, leaning away when a screech owl got uncomfortably close to her face. “Please, little lady, not so close,” she whispered and tried to rid herself of the owls clutching her uniform. She didn’t want more holes in her jumper. Owl talons were no joke, not quite so strong as Kalo’s but strong enough. 

“This one’s from a bloke who thinks you’re off your rocker,” Ron said, directing it at Harry who only sighed. “Ah well…”

“This woman recommends you try a good course of Shock Spells at St. Mungo’s,” Hermione said a moment later, crumpling up a few more lengths of parchment with a very deep frown.

When Atlas finally freed herself of the many birds she reached for a few of her own, carefully pulling them open to read their contents, quite a few of them were non-believers, their letters laced with colourful words and creative suggestions that ended in a not so favourable position for Atlas but some believed her, even including gifts within their notes. One old lady had sent her quite a few pictures of her calico cat doing a number of very cute things, and another gifted her an oil painted picture of the countryside they lived in. It was very pretty.

“Oh, here’s another one you’ve convinced, Atlas,” Ron said after throwing a less than favourable letter over his shoulder, crumbled and ruined, “this girl says you’ve got her converted and she now thinks you’re a real hero — she’s put in a photograph, too — wow!”

Ron handed Atlas the photo and she flushed to the roots of her hair, slamming the portrait face down on the table and glaring over at Ron who looked just as rattled. Hermione looked between them, eyes dropping to the photograph on the table. “What? What is it?”

“More cat pictures,” Atlas whispered and Ginny, who was sitting beside Ron and had gotten a good glimpse of the image over his shoulder, let out a deafening laugh, snorting loudly. “Just…just cat pictures.”

“Yeah, a British Shorthair!” Ginny howled.

“What is going on here?” A falsely sweet voice called and Ginny’s laugh came to an abrupt stop, almost hiccoughing as Atlas paled, not daring to glance behind her as that sickening perfume she despised so much caressed her cheek and poked at her nose, the icy warmth that invaded her back from the proximity of the pink-clad witch putting Atlas on edge. “Why have you got all these letters, Mr Potter? Atlas?”

“Is that a crime now?” Fred said loudly, almost rising. “Getting mail?”

“Be careful, Mr Weasley or I shall have to put you in detention,” Umbridge warned, a sharpness to her cheery tone, “Well, Mr Potter? Atlas?”

How could she have been so stupid? How could Atlas have forgotten she was here? How could she not consider these consequences? Merlin, she had always thought of the consequences and now that she hadn’t, things would go wrong. So terribly wrong. 

At their further silence, the air around Umbridge seemed to shift and she moved even closer, raising her hand to Atlas’s shoulder and squeezing it harshly, she leant forward, so that her toad-like grin came in full view and Atlas had no choice but to look upon the woman’s face, Harry in the background just as pale as she. The woman blinked but to Atlas it looked out of time, her vision blurring and shoulder burning from the woman’s touch. She wanted it off. She wanted to push her away. 

“Atlas? You’ve gotten quite the collection of mail,” Umbridge murmured, examining the packages and letters that sat open before her. “Would you tell me what for?”

“I…just,” there was no getting out of this. If Atlas lied Umbridge would still find out sooner or later and the punishment would be far worse, if she didn’t, what then? A lesser punishment but punishment nonetheless. “I did…I did an…”

“Give her some space, won’t you?” Hermione spoke, pulling Atlas further against her side so that a small distance was put between the girl and Umbridge. The lady’s taut grip fell loose and her hand came away from Atlas’s shoulder with an audible parting, she stood straight but it did nothing to increase her height. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You were in her face,” Hermione continued, trying with all her might to withhold her snark. “You’re making her uncomfortable, professor.”

“Well…” Umbridge said and then that signature too tight smile pulled at her face, “while, of course, that was not my intention, I apologise, Atlas, if I managed to make you uncomfortable. Though I would not know why,” she added, acting clueless as she made a vague gesture with her hands and then clasped together again. Atlas followed every movement. “I’m just curious as to why you’ve suddenly had an influx of fans, the same with you Mr Potter.”

“They’ve written to us because…” Harry seemed hesitant, glancing at Atlas between each word, gauging her reaction. Wondering if he truly should tell Umbridge all of what they did, the interview they gave. “They’ve written because –“

“We gave an interview,” Atlas burst, breathing out the words heavily so that they flew from her mouth. She blinked, eyes a little wide before turning to hold Umbridge’s bottomless glare. “About — about what happened to us last June.”

“An…an interview?” Umbridge’s high and thin voice shook slightly as her lips pulled into a thin line and her eyes bulged. “What do you mean?”

“A reporter asked us questions and we…we answered them,” Atlas voiced, sounding despondent as if she had parted with her emotions for a moment if only to get through this so that her fear would not overwhelm her and make a mess of her heart.

Umbridge looked at her, long and hard for a moment before snatching at the Quibbler laid out in front of the group. There was a moment in which Umbridge read down the cover and everything went very still, the unmistakable rage and hatred, disdain Atlas had not seen since her trial flashing through the woman’s eyes as she looked at her, face oddly purple not sparing Harry a single glance. And for a moment, a very brief moment, Atlas thought Umbridge might strike her. Might strike her and never stop.

“When…when did you do this?” She asked, her voice trembling so fully it seemed almost fake.

“Last Hogsmeade weekend,” Atlas replied, eyes fluttering open and closed as she swallowed.

“You…” Umbridge looked at her with such immeasurable rage it stilled the hearts of everyone close, even Luna who had been happily humming to herself throughout the entire meal suddenly looked uncharacteristically scared and Hermione pulled Atlas closer, holding her tight, ready to pull her away. “You…how dare you…how you could –” she did not finish her sentence, could not, voice so uneven it would have just been garble.

Instead, she reached out so unperceivably quick that Hermione could not hope to shield Atlas from it, all anyone could do was watch with bated breath as Umbridge clutched the front of Atlas’s jumper tight, stubby fingers balls of fire. It was quickly released, for Umbridge seemed to realise they were amongst company as she glanced around at the many eyes that had since fallen upon them. She looked to the staff table as well, where some of the teachers sat and even seemed to let out a brief shuddering breath when her eyes landed upon the empty seat belonging to Minerva McGonagall.

And then she left, quick and sharp, not another word given. Seemingly so distracted by her anger she had neglected to dish out a punishment and Atlas did know whether to be relieved or terrified at this. The possibilities of what could happen behind closed doors, away from so many eyes striking her. Striking her as Umbridge had done and will possibly do.

“Atlas? Atlas?” Atlas blinked, looking over at Fred. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah…” Atlas nodded slowly, adjusting herself back in her seat as she reached her hand up to her throat, rubbing it where it seemed to burn the most. “Yeah — yeah, all good…all good.”

Hermione went to place her hand upon Atlas’s shoulder but, Atlas, still trapped within her daze, swiped her hand away, looking at her with eyes wide.

“Oh…Mi,” Atlas breathed and blinked hard again, reaching for the hand she had struck and taking it carefully in her palm, squeezing it slightly, “sorry…sorry, I just — I need a minute,” she murmured, shaking her head subtly and breathing in deeply.

“There’s no need to apologise, Atlas,” Hermione said, softly though there was a shake to her words as she looked to the crumpled tie at Atlas’s throat. 

“Yeah, it’s that bitch who needs to apologise,” Ginny snapped and Atlas flinched, looking the way Umbridge had disappeared to check she was well and truly gone, beyond earshot. “She almost fucking attacked a student. There’s no telling what she does behind closed doors.”

George and Harry exchanged a look and turned to glance over at Atlas who had since closed her eyes, hands toying with Hermione’s in her lap to distract herself. It did not work, not nearly as much as she’d hoped.

“She’ll get what’s coming to her,” Luna supplied a moment later, voice eerily calm. “They always do.”

“Yeah, but by the time she gets it,” Ron began, seething, “it’ll be too late.”

By mid-morning overwhelming signs had been plastered upon every wall, every inch of the castle. The High Inquisitor had issued another decree:

Any student found in possession of the magazine
The Quibbler will be expelled.
The above is in accordance with Educational Decree Number Twenty-seven.

Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor

Though this seemed to be Umbridge’s greatest mistake as if she could have done one thing to absolutely ensure the spread of The Quibbler it was banning it and by the end of the day, Atlas caught long snippets of conversation between groups of students, pairs and even those during study. She received long looks, mostly of awe and was showered with compliments, though hushed, wherever she went. Then, by the end of the week, it had taken over, most could recite the article off by heart and though there were those who were struck with the fear of Voldemort’s return, others were emboldened by it, the DA and other members of the student body.

Atlas wished she could say the same, but her thoughts were only of what might await her around every corner, she tried not to think of Umbridge but the looks she would give her during lesson would strike her again. Umbridge was plotting something and when she would dish it out, Atlas didn’t know.

Perhaps the only real good news Atlas received was during the middle of the next week, she’d been on her way to Transfiguration where Minerva had been giving her a wide berth, looking at her in a way a that was almost guilty every lesson, so she had not been excited. But then she heard a familiar voice call her name and she turned, a little shocked but soon smiling when she found Astoria standing at the very end of the hall, looking healthier than ever.

“Astoria,” she sighed out, jogging to meet the girl halfway. Astoria grinned and jumped into her arms so that they spun. “You look better.”

“I feel better,” Astoria breathed, hugging tight. Atlas set her down and crouched, taking the girl’s hands in hers. “You did it. You really did it.”

“I did,” Atlas nodded, smiling slightly.

“How? I mean…I didn’t — I obliviously didn’t doubt you, I knew you’d find it, I just –“

“It’s all right,” Atlas eased, looking at the healthy red that flushed through Astoria’s cheeks. She smiled again and pinched them, “and…it doesn’t matter, I found it and you’re ok.”

“You…you didn’t do anything bad, did you?” Astoria asked quietly and Atlas flinched, looking upon the girl with wide eyes, “it’s just…Daph told me you said you were nowhere near finding it and then a few hours later you’ve got the potion. I just can’t help but think –“

“I didn’t do anything I regret,” Atlas offered, swiping her thumb across where she had pinched, “not one bit,” and it was the truth, Atlas didn’t regret her decision. Maybe she had a few hours after the fact but seeing Astoria now, colourful and vibrant, walking and running made Atlas’s fate that much more tolerable. She was still afraid, yes, for fear doesn’t just vanish but seeing the fruits of her sacrifice made it seem worth it, made it just a little less scary. “So don’t worry.”

“But what did you do?”

“…I made a deal, a promise, that’s all,” Atlas shrugged and stood, taking a step back, “I’m glad you’re back, Tori.”

“It’s er…” Astoria didn’t look at all convinced for a moment before she seemed to ultimately decide to move from the topic. She instead smiled again, wider this time with only a slight slip of hesitance, “it’s good to be back. I’m just glad I don’t have to hide in the shadows anymore. You really kept to your promise.”

“Of course, I always do…” Atlas let her sentence hang, frowning ever so slightly, “I mean I try to…anyway, you’d have probably hated me if I didn’t stick to it.”

“No way, I could never hate you,” Astoria huffed, pushing at Atlas’s arm, “honestly, you are staggeringly hard to dislike, I bet loads of people say they do but don’t actually mean it.”

“If only,” Atlas sighed and swallowed, hard as she swiped a hand through her hair busily, “you really wouldn’t have hated me?”

“Nah, you’re too loveable,” Astoria grinned just as a chime came from her pocket. She went slightly wide-eyed and dug around her pocket, pulling out a little watch, “sorry Atlas, I need to go.”

“Oh, don’t let me stop you,” Atlas said, holding her hands up as she stepped to the side, “seriously, it’s — it’s really good to see you, Astoria.”

“Likewise,” Astoria said, quickly winding her arms around Atlas’s waist a moment for a curt brief and tight hug before she pulled away and hurried down the corridor, waving over her shoulder, “bye, Atlas! I’ll be seeing you!”

“Where?”

“No idea!” Astoria beamed, waving again as she turned a corner. Atlas stared after her for a long while, waiting until she could no longer hear the girl’s footsteps before letting out a breath. So it had really worked. Daphne hadn’t spoken to her, hadn’t told her of Astoria’s condition — if she was alive and well so she hadn’t known. This news, the physical proof of it was all she needed to confirm she had done the right thing. Atlas had definitely done the right thing.

Definitely.

She stayed for a moment longer before hurrying off to her Transfiguration lesson that she had already been late for. It went, as usual, a lecture at the beginning of the lesson regarding OWLs and another at the end. And when lessons ended, the day finished, she returned to the Gryffindor Common rooms much later than everybody else to find a party in full swing, banners everywhere and hate dedicated to Umbridge on every wall, framing some of the paintings whose inhabitants partied also.

Not exactly in the mood for Firewhisky, Atlas moved to retreat up to her bedroom but of course, she was not let off so easy, she had been betrayed by her own godbrother. Harry stood there, dressed in some fancy cap with a large smile on his face, he looked slightly red as he dragged Atlas to the centre and pulled her down beside him, Fred and George just in front doing some really poor recreation of a striptease. No actual stripping involved. Much to Atlas’s relief.

They sat together in silence for quite a while before either of them spoke, the two of them simply watching the abysmal show in play before them, Harry was grinning, sipping on some Butterbeer in a plastic cup while Atlas grimaced as if in some serious pain. Eventually, Angelina pushed the two out of the way and dragged Katie up beside her, taking the twins’ role. Though they didn’t steal their act, rather, they began singing a poor rendition of Careless Whisper by the Muggle singer George Michael.

“This is painful,” Harry said and while Atlas nodded she was no longer grimacing, instead, she was smiling in disbelief.

“This is one of my favourite songs on Hermione’s mix. Hearing these two idiots sing it really makes me appreciate George Michael,” Atlas muttered and Harry laughed into his drink so that it splashed up his nose. Angelina and Katie came to an end and decided to switch it up, clearing their throats simultaneously before starting again, a different song this time, “seriously? Just The Two Of Us…Harry, I think they’ve listened to my Walkman. If they sing Lay All Your Love On Me next, hold me back.”

“What? You’re going to fight them?” Harry grinned.

“No, I’ll be joining them,” Atlas said very seriously.

“I’m definitely not holding you back then,” Harry gasped, wide-eyed, “I want to see you sing.”

“You should, I’m the best,” Atlas mused and reached forward to grab one of the Butterbeers from the case Fred and George had undoubtedly snuck up. Angelina and Katie dragged Alicia up beside them as well and changed the lyrics to ‘just the three of us’. “Anything good happen to you today, Potter?”

“Seamus told me he believes us and Cho forgave me for meeting Hermione on Valentine. Gave me a peck on the cheek,” Harry smirked and Atlas smiled, sinking back into her seat and fiddling with her unopened Butterbeer. “Did you ever chat to Cho, by the way? She mentioned you.”

“No, I know I said I’d talk to her before term ended but then the whole thing with Nagini happened and I was pulled out onto the field,” Atlas told and took in a breath before biting off the cap to her Butterbeer and dropping it into her palm. “I’ve been meaning to pull her aside during the DA meetings but I never really know what to say.”

“You should definitely get on that soon,” Harry suggested and Atlas nodded, not offering up any promises. “So…speaking of, how did your valentines day date go with Hermione, then? I never did ask.”

“Oh,” Atlas stopped a moment, furrowing her brows and taking a swig of her drink, “it wasn’t really a date, we always go to Hogsmeade together. I mean, I thought it was a date at first, she seemed really excited, you know? I never would have guessed it was because we were meeting another person. Rita Skeeter, for that matter.”

“Wait, really? I thought…”

“Yeah, me too,” Atlas nodded and took another, long and deeper drink from her bottle, “it didn’t bother me though, not for too long, initially I was like ‘oh, so it hadn’t been a date,’ but then seeing Rita pulled me away from it and there wasn’t really any room for me to think about it. It still…sucked but then it’s my own fault really, I should have just asked her.”

“So why don’t you?” Harry asked, putting his glass by his foot and turning to fully face Atlas.

“What?”

“Ask her. Ask her if she likes you. Right now.” Harry said and Atlas stared at him for a very long moment before shaking her head, smiling slightly.

“Harry…”

“I’m serious, you should. Just go for it, what have you got to lose?”

“Her, Harry,” Atlas said, frowning. She turned away from him and finished the last of her drink, grabbing another. “Her.”

“You really think she’s the type of person to just ignore you if you tell her and she doesn’t reciprocate?” Harry said, eyes glancing away a moment, a movement which Atlas followed. Hermione had just walked into the Common Room with Ron, looking incredibly out of place.

“No, she’s not the problem. I am,” Atlas sighed, turning to look back over at Angelina, Katie and Alicia who were indeed singing Lay All Your Love On Me. Unfortunately for Harry, Atlas did not go up and join their choir. “I don’t think I could bear being around her knowing she didn’t like me back. I think I’d need space and…that’d just hurt us both.”

“So, what do you plan on doing in the meant time, genius? Do you plan on suffering and pining in silence for the rest of your life? News flash, that hurts you just as much in the long run,” Harry said and when Atlas looked at him, wide-eyed he shrugged, “Ginny’s been talking to me about relationship stuff because I asked her to help me. Anyway, do you even plan on asking her?”

“I…yeah?” Atlas said, though she didn’t even think she could convince Ron with that answer and he was just as dense as her. “Look, it’s just not the time.”

“When will it be the time?”

“I don’t know!” Atlas groaned and harshly bit off the cap of her new drink. Downing its contents, she wiped her hand across her mouth, “I don’t know. I have stuff going on, she has stuff going one –“

“You two will always have stuff going on,” Harry interrupted and Atlas frowned, noticing how he hiccuped. “Atlas, we are the targets of absolute shit, we are always, always going to have stuff going on.”

“How many Butterbeers have you had?” Atlas asked and dropped her eyes to Harry’s foot, watching as he tried to discretely nudge a number of empty bottles out of sight.

“Unimportant, you’re love life is at stake here,” he pressed, leaning to grab her shoulders, very tightly. “I want to be an uncle. A good uncle.”

“Harry, please.”

“Promise me, you’ll tell her how you feel,” Harry said, glaring her dead in the eye. Atlas laughed nervously.

“Harry –“

“Atlas! Promise!”

“Ok!” Atlas shouted, throwing her hands up, “ok! I will! But not now!”

“Not good enough! I’ll give you…I’ll give you until Christmas!”

“Christmas?” Atlas huffed.

“Yeah, for you to confess, if you don’t, I’ll do it for you,” Harry boldly declared and Atlas, figuring the boy would be too drunk to remember huffed, holding out her hand.

“Fine, deal,” she said, glowering. Harry heartily took the hand outstretched to him, shaking it most eagerly. Then, much to Atlas’s dismay, he pulled out that planner Hermione had gotten him for Christmas and flipped through from March to December 25th next year. He marked it with relatively large arrows and Atlas swallowed rather thickly. She had not been expecting this. 

“Hey, you. Hey, Harry,” The two of them turned to look up at Ron and Hermione, the latter smiling with something akin to relief in her eye. She took a seat beside Atlas and grabbed her own Butterbeer. “Did I miss anything?”

“Merry Christmas,” Harry grinned, clinking his recently refilled cup with hers.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Harry?” Hermione said, looking to Atlas for clarification but all the girl could do was groan.

All the while, a poor rendition of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You sounded in the background, Angelina and Alicia pointing at one another while Katie practically swallowed the tip of her wand, singing into it passionately.

 Atlas shook her head. “Katie’s going to blow her head off.”

“Are they singing my mixtape?”

“Yes, Mi…yes they are.”

Harry jumped up, “hold on! This is one of my favourites!”

“So why did Harry say Merry Christmas?” Hermione asked and Atlas looked at her, just silently for a moment before she sighed and turned back to the disaster unfurling before them, she could see the legs of the table giving with each haphazard jump from those on top.

“I have no idea.”

A loud crack came and the table crumbled to bits.