Chapter 109

For as long as Atlas had known her, Minerva McGonagall had never been one to distance herself from something potentially unpleasant, why Atlas was that potentially unpleasant thing, she didn’t know nor understand. Granted, they didn’t usually make it a habit of meeting one another, despite their relationship as godmother and goddaughter but when one wanted to chat the other wouldn’t be opposed, that was their thing, it was the way they were, Minerva wasn’t a famously affectionate person and Atlas was ok with that, she understood. She had grown up under the lady’s care, and though absent in some areas, Atlas was the young woman she was now all thanks to her.

Yes, all of that Atlas understood but the problem was, suddenly Minerva wasn’t doing that, she’d come up with an excuse if Atlas asked for tea, avoid her gaze in a lesson and call on others for demonstrations. And she had never done that before. Not when Atlas had done something stupid when she was a kid, like when she’d tried to adopt a baby manticore or used her bedsheets as an impromptu Halloween costume — the ghosts of Hogwarts had found it amusing at least. Not even when Atlas had almost destroyed Hogsmeade, nearly killing Bella in the process or when she had turned herself into an Animagus and disturbed a sacred ritual of the Centaurs. Both times, she’d simply sat with her, calmed her and talked to her.

Now though? Nothing.

“Maybe something happened…personally? Maybe with Poppy?” Hermione tried to console, the pair walking to their morning break. She had her hand on Atlas’s arm, the girl frowning as their classroom for transfiguration vanished behind them.

“No…I asked Poppy about it, she just gave me a certain look, as if she knew what was going on,” Atlas muttered, running a hand through her hair. “Do you think I did something?”

“Atlas, I doubt it’s really anything you did. You haven’t done anything wrong,” Hermione assured, squeezing the girl’s bicep in an attempt to lighten her worry. Atlas stopped, putting her hands on her hips so that Hermione’s grip slipped and the girl’s hand returned back to her side. “Atty? Where’s your head?”

“I’m just thinking…do you think it’s because of the interview?”

“Atlas you told me she was acting like it before that,” Hermione sighed.

“I know, I know but, that interviews caused me nothing but shit so it wouldn’t be surprising, I –” Atlas noticed the sudden guilty look on Hermione’s face, the way the girl’s face dropped and so she quickly scrambled to correct herself, “hey! Hey! No, the interview’s done loads of good too. I mean, Seamus believes us now, he apologised to me before bed last night.”

“You don’t have to do that, Atlas,” Hermione said shaking her head.

“I don’t want you feeling bad about it, Mi. It was a good call, I’m just trying to understand why my own godmother won’t look at me,” Atlas muttered and then turned to look back the way they came.

“Go talk to her,” Hermione urged and Atlas briefly glanced her way before looking away again, nodding.

“Yeah…yeah, if she doesn’t make a runner,” Atlas huffed.

“Her name’s Minerva, not Atlas.”

“That hurts,” Atlas winced and then let out a breath, nodding to herself resolutely, “all right…all right, I’m going,” but Atlas did not move, remaining in place with her hands firmly wound around her bag straps.

“Go on then,” Hermione smiled, crossing her arms and watching her in mild amusement.

“I am.”

“I see that.”

Atlas groaned and turned to Hermione, “I don’t know how to talk to her.”

“She’s your godmother,” Hermione said and Atlas shook her head.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact I don’t know how to open her up for discussion.”

“Tell her how it’s making you feel,” Hermione told, reaching out to carefully peel away Atlas’s hands from the straps of her bag, “tell her how much it hurts.”

“It doesn’t…it doesn’t hurt,” Atlas murmured, furrowing her brows, looking sort of lost, “it’s just…confusing.”

“So tell her that and I’ll wait for you here,” Hermione smiled, caressing her thumb over the back of Atlas’s hand a few times before letting her go and gesturing for her to get moving. Atlas stared at her for a long while, before she nodded and turned again, hesitating but eventually walking, gaze set on Minerva’s classroom door as Hermione watched her grow smaller and smaller.

Never before had the door to transfiguration seemed so large and foreboding, the oak unusually dark around the edges and the knocker unnaturally stiff, as if it had rusted or become broken somehow. Still, she powered through, she hadn’t even used the knocker in the end, instead, she went straight for the door, feeling as if she needed to press her whole entire body weight against the wood to get it to move even the slightest inch. It eventually gave, falling open as she step inside.

Minerva was at her desk, marking some homework and didn’t even spare the door a glance when it opened and closed with an audible clank, she simply remained quiet while Atlas stood, her hands ringing together nervously in front of her, waiting for any sort of acknowledgement. When it never came, she found her voice.

“Er, Minnie?”

“Oh! Atlas,” Minerva looked up from her work, adjusting her glasses hastily and looking instantly uncomfortable but Atlas noticed it was not because of her like she had thought, rather it was something else. “I didn’t hear the door, I have told you to knock before, have I not?”

“I know, I know…” Atlas nodded and pried her hands apart, stuffing them in her pockets, “I just wasn’t really thinking properly. I’m sorry…I’ll be sure to knock next time,” she muttered and then took in a very deep breath, keeping her eyes on the toucan Minerva had behind her. “I was wondering if — if maybe I’d done something wrong? Or if something happened? Because, if I did something, I –“

“You haven’t done anything wrong, Atlas,” Minerva began, looking suddenly regretful, “I’m sorry for making you feel as if you have.”

“Oh…ok — ok, that’s good then,” Atlas smiled, though it was still tight, still mildly confused. “So…why have you been — ? I mean, you’ve been acting really strange so…” she let her words die out, hoping Minerva got the gist of what she meant and by the look on the woman’s face, she had.

“Well, Atlas, you see…I need to tell you something. Something you might not like,” Minerva said and she looked conflicted, face pinched with something akin to worry. She didn’t seem to quite know how to word what she needed to say and Atlas thought it strange, she had thought the woman had had more than enough time away from Atlas to gather her thoughts but she also knew, that in the moment, all rationality and critical thinking tended to leave a person and their planning rendered futile. So she didn’t quite know how to respond to Minerva’s hesitance. “Nevermind…it’s — it’s honestly not important, my dear.”

Backtracking was not a thing Minerva dabbled in, the woman was never afraid to speak her mind, especially when it pertained to the truth, her motto always was ‘a painful truth was better than a comforting lie’, so the fact she avoided this made Atlas suddenly anxious.

“Minnie…tell me, you’re worrying me here,” she tried to laugh but it sounded so forced Atlas grimaced.

“No, no…I’d best not,” Minerva said, shaking her head but when Atlas looked at her, imploring and sort of desperate, she seemed to cave, deflating slightly as she stood and rounded her desk slowly, cautiously as she returned to thinking up what she might say. Then she stopped, reaching out to hold Atlas’s shoulders. “Atlas…do you — do you ever wonder about your mother’s family?”

“…sometimes,” Atlas nodded, looking lost as she swallowed thickly, suddenly thinking back to a conversation she had, “but Moody told me I shouldn’t dwell on it…he — he insinuated I probably wouldn’t like what I found.”

“And he’d be right, sweetheart, because you are good and they…are not,” Minerva trailed off, pulling away quite quickly and clasping her hands in front of her, again, she looked upon Atlas, mouth a thin line, “do you wish to know who they are?”

“Minnie…again, you are seriously worrying me here. Why are you suddenly bringing them up? You hate talking about my mum,” Atlas said, chuckling nervously and noticing how Minerva’s eyes briefly flashed with something pained.

“Do you wish to know?”

“I mean…” Atlas didn’t know what to say, she’d never been posed with such a question, an invitation to find some knowledge of herself, her heritage with no strings attached, no deals proposed in return for the information. She recognised the underlying feeling she might regret her answer, her confirmation as she pondered on it and yet, still, she nodded. “Yeah…yeah, I want to know.”

“The escapees, the twelve who walk amongst us now,” Minerva began, stopping a moment as Atlas slowly analysed the lady’s words, the tone and hesitance each syllable held, “there are a few, of course, you already know are related to you but they are of Sirius’s side…your mother, however, had two cousins,” and Atlas instantly thought to a particular pair, two faces she had thought familiar, for a reason she didn’t want to admit. Faces she’d thought were similar to hers. “Siblings.”

“…Edha and Kushaal,” Atlas muttered, blinking slowly as she swallowed, thickly again but with much more difficulty this time. She fell into a seat, brushing her fingers against engravings idly as she stared upon the floor, Minerva’s green heels. 

“Atlas?” Minerva coaxed, pulling a seat for herself forward, “are you all right?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m ok,” Atlas nodded slowly, “I suppose I should have seen it coming. So you knew then? That mum isn’t actually a Magianima?”

“I did. But I didn’t think it was of any importance,” Minerva said and Atlas could tell she was being true, “Amaya was simply Amaya, a kind and exuberant girl, who broke her fair share of hearts without it being her intention and so, if she wanted to be known as Magianima, who was I to tell her no?”

“Right…” Atlas nodded again, writing her hands together, unsure of what to make of the new information. “And…the two siblings, mum’s cousins…I don’t suppose you knew them did you?”

“No…not at all, Amaya’s family never attended any of her events and the siblings did not attend school in general. They were homeschooled,” Minerva said, taking Atlas’s hands and cradling them in hers, “The Sinha-Shikari family was a complete enigma and as your mother so clearly wanted nothing to do with them, Albus thought it best not to pursue them.”

“Do you think they know about me?”

“I think so, Atlas,” Minerva nodded, frowning as Atlas chewed at the inside of her cheek. “I apologise for not telling you all of this sooner, I had not known how you’d react to it.”

“Did you think I’d react badly?”

“Well, not hysterically but I thought it best not to worry you with it when the news originally came out,” Minerva said decidedly, each word crafted carefully, “I had not thought of how it might’ve worried you, the sudden distance between us, for that I apologise again, my dear.”

“It’s ok,” Atlas murmured, “maybe you’re right, maybe I wouldn’t have been able to handle it the day that newspaper article was published, I had…a lot going on,” she mused, now picking at the carvings.

“Are you truly all right, Atlas?” Minerva asked again and this time Atlas took a long while before she spoke, deciding on how she felt, the mess of emotions within her so befuddled the silence that followed made Minerva think as though she had shut down.

“I don’t know how I feel…obviously sick because I’m related to yet another pair of murders but…I’m not shocked or hurt, upset maybe but not as much as I would have been,” Atlas muttered and rubbed at the crease forming atop her brow, frowning as if in pain. “I’m just…I think I’m just tired.”

“If that is truly all…” Minerva said softly, trying to catch Atlas’s eye, but the girl was determined to keep her eyes on the woman’s shoes. “Atlas…do let me know if you ever feel down, I am still your godmother, whether you choose to live with Sirius when his name is cleared or not. And if you’d like, I’ll have Poppy brew some more of those potions for you.”

“It’s all right, I’d rather not develop a dependency,” Atlas chuckled lightly, standing, “well…now that I know I haven’t done something, I’ll be going,” she said, smiling slightly as she motioned over her shoulder. Minerva watched her silently for a moment, analysing the girl from head to toe and when she deemed Atlas ok, she nodded.

“Very well…be good, Atlas.”

“I will,” Atlas nodded. She brushed down her shirt as she made for the door, hand sort of hesitant over the door handle before she chanced a glance over her shoulder only to find Minerva still watching her, straight-faced with a pinched of worry at the corner of her mouth. Atlas smiled again and waved over her shoulder once before finally pulling open the door and stepping outside.

And when it closed behind her, she leant against the wall opposite, rubbing at her brows and grimacing when she felt the symptoms of a migraine run through her head, she groaned lowly and pulled her hand away, letting out a very deep and tired sigh. So she was related to them, the two calamities incarnate, Kushaal and Edha, monsters harbouring flesh. Funny. She’d be fighting against more of her family, her own flesh and blood. The horrible thing was, she knew she wouldn’t win unscathed and for a moment, however brief, she thought she might not win at all.

“Atlas!”

She jumped at her name, standing straight and plastering a smile upon her face as Hermione walked up to her, some food in hand. Right, somewhere, sometime during her conversation she had vaguely heard the bell ring. Break had ended but Hermione had still managed to grab some food.

“Mi, I see you abandoned your post in favour of some pastries,” Atlas teased lightly but made some startled and muffled noise when Hermione shoved a pain au raisin in her mouth. She quickly chewed and swallowed, hard, “thank you?”

“So, how’d it go?”

“Oh…” Atlas swallowed again but found it a great struggle, her mouth had suddenly gone dry. “I…” she didn’t know why she found it hard to tell Hermione, it wasn’t as if Atlas’s relation to several other psychopaths and murderers wasn’t public knowledge but she realised, looking upon Hermione’s face, her gorgeous goddamned smile, she didn’t have the heart to be the reason for its disappearance. Because if Atlas told the girl she was related to yet another two muggle-hating murderous blood supremacists that she would have to fight, Hermione would no doubt frown, furrow her brows and ask if she wanted to talk about it. “It went well, it was just a misunderstanding. No big deal.”

“Sure…” Hermione said slowly, “well when you want to tell me the truth, I’m all ears,” and of course, Hermione could see through her bullshit, “now, come on, we needed to get to class, like…” she checked her pocket watch, “fifteen minutes ago.”

“Wait, shit, why did you wait for me? Hermione, you’re never late,” Atlas said, sort of urgent as she started for their next lesson.

“I said I’d wait,” Hermione said, though she also looked slightly panicked. Clearly, she hadn’t thought she’d be that late, maybe the tiniest bit, but not so much they missed registration. But it was ok, their next lesson was Binns and he wasn’t particularly harsh, he’d just scold you and continue with the class. And that’s exactly what he did, sending Hermione and Atlas to their seats, the former red-faced with her head down while the latter tucked her bag underneath her desk and fell into her seat.

Ron leant forward behind them and tapped on their shoulders.

“Where were you two all break?”

“Secret,” Atlas said, putting a finger to her lips. Hermione slapped her, still red in the face before telling Ron what they’d really been up to, which wasn’t much. Nothing at all related to what Atlas might’ve accidentally alluded to.

“Right well you missed loads,” Ron huffed, furrowing his brows, “Harry had another dream.”

“You did?” Atlas asked, turning to the boy who, indeed, looked a lot paler than usual. He nodded, shifting in his seat. “What was it about?”

“Should we really talk about this?” Hermione asked, glancing around at the other students, but none of them was listening in, all busy with their own conversations, far removed from the quartet’s secluded corner. When Ron pointed the fact out, Hermione still looked dubious. “What if –“

“No one is going to listen,” Ron insisted, already preparing for Harry to speak, he looked to his best friend expectantly and Harry sighed, looking around also before the four put their heads together.

“Last night…last night, it was as if I was Voldemort — seeing through his eyes I mean and he was angry,” Harry muttered, his voice trembling as he told them — as if remembering it in very vivid detail while Atlas glanced around at separate intervals, whenever Harry took a breath or spent a little longer between each word. “Avery gave him the wrong information, he’s in trouble…but then I saw Rookwood, in front of me — no — in front of Voldemort, he’s one of the Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban, right? And Rookwood had told him Bode couldn’t have done it.”

“Bode?” Atlas asked.

“The one who was killed, he was in the same ward as Gilderoy,  strangled by a Devil’s Snare disguised as a potted plant, I thought Hermione told you about it?” Harry said.

“Oh, right, yeah, sorry, she did,” Atlas confirmed, looking at Hermione with a sheepish smile, the girl rolled her eyes half-heartedly and turned back to Harry.

“You said Bode couldn’t have done something? What?” Hermione asked.

“Remove something, he said Bode would have known he couldn’t have done it, Bode was under the Imperius Curse…I think he said Malfoy’s dad put it on him,” Harry told and Atlas frowned at the mention of the man.

“Bewitched to remove something? Harry, it must’ve been the weapon,” Hermione said and both Harry and Ron nodded while Atlas drew away. It was something she had neglected to think about, the fact that Arthur had been attacked protecting the weapon, the weapon that had been in the Hall of Prophecies. And she suddenly understood — the weapon was a prophecy. “So that’s why they killed him…”

“Bode?” Ron asked and Hermione nodded quickly, her mind far from the fear of being overheard, she had just cracked the case.

“I think when Bode tried to steal the weapon, something happened to him, there must’ve been some sort of defensive spell on it, or around it, to stop people from touching it. That’s why he was in St Mungos, his brain had gone all funny, probably fried,” Hermione began and Atlas, once again, found the girl’s brains and deductions skills nothing short of staggering and felt herself falling even further. To the point she knew it was soon to become painful. “But remember what the Healer told us? He was recovering. And they couldn’t risk him getting better, could they? I mean, the shock of whatever happened when he touched that weapon probably made the Imperius Curse lift. Once he’d got his voice back, he’d explain what he’d been doing, wouldn’t he? They would have known he’d been sent to steal the weapon. Of course, it would have been easy for Lucius Malfoy to put the curse on him. Never out of the Ministry, is he?”

“He was even hanging around that day I had my hearing,” Harry added, his glances around at those that sat closest to them becoming sparser and sparser the more they found. “He was in the Department of Mysteries corridor that day! Mr Weasley said he was probably trying to sneak down and find out what happened in my hearing, but what if –“

“Sturgis!” Hermione blurted, sitting up straight in her seat and looking around sheepishly when her volume had attracted some attention. The four had to wait a very long while before they could speak again. “Sturgis Podmore,” Hermione continued, quieter and ducked down lower so that Harry and Ron had to come closer. 

The three were unaware of Atlas’s sudden distance.

“He was arrested for trying to get through a door. Lucius Malfoy must have got him too. I bet he did it the day you saw him there, Harry. Sturgis had Moody’s Invisibility Cloak, right?” Harry nodded and Hermione smiled. She truly was on a roll here. “So, what if he was standing guard by the door, invisible, and Malfoy heard him move — or guessed someone was there — or just did the Imperius Curse on the off-chance there’d be a guard there? So, when Sturgis next had an opportunity — probably when it was his turn on guard duty again — he tried to get into the Department to steal the weapon for Voldemort but he got caught and sent to Azkaban…”

She gazed at Harry.

“And now Rookwood’s told Voldemort how to get the weapon?”

“I didn’t hear all the conversation, but that’s what it sounded like,” Harry nodded, frowning deeply. “Rookwood used to work there…maybe Voldemort’ll send Rookwood to do it?”

“The bigger question is what even is the weapon?” Ron said and Atlas tensed, not going unnoticed by the girl beside her. Hermione slowly watched her a moment, before turning toward her fully.

“Do you know what it is?”

“…not really,” Atlas shrugged, grip tight around the back of her seat. Hermione’s eyes momentarily flicked to the girl’s hands and then back up to her face, tilting her head to the side with an unimpressed look and a quirk to her brow. “You know I’m not supposed to tell you.”

“So you’ve known all this time?” Harry frowned and Atlas shook her head.

“No, I just…I sort of just figured it out, I’d tucked the mission with Moody aside to think about another day,” Atlas sighed, rubbing her brows again. Oh and there sprouted the migraine. She groaned. “Look, I don’t entirely know, myself…” she knew she shouldn’t tell them, she was completely betraying the Order, in a way. But then again, she didn’t want to be a part of it in the first place. “I’m thinking the weapon is a prophecy…Arthur was attacked in the Hall of Prophecies.”

“It’s real?” Hermione said, threatening expression turning awed.

“Yeah…very real,” Atlas muttered, clenching her jaw, she closed her eyes and shook her head, “the point is I don’t even think Rookwood would be able to retrieve it, Moody told me the Keeper of the Hall was the one who cursed them. Cursed them so that whoever touched them would be driven mad, so my guess is he’s the only one who can touch them. I’m not entirely sure but…you know.”

“Right, and do you know what the prophecy’s about?” Ron asked, leaning forward.

“No, now that I think about it, Moody probably sent me off so he could go check it was still there,” Atlas sighed, turning back to front and leaning back in her chair, staring at the ceiling.

“What’s it like? In the hall I mean,” Hermione asked and noticing Atlas’s discomfort she place her hand atop the girl’s thigh, “sorry…you probably don’t want to think about it.”

“It’s ok…I suppose it was cold and I kept hearing whispers, the shelves were stacked high with dimly lit balls of light, multicoloured but majority blue, so — all in all, beautiful but not my favourite place,” Atlas muttered, thinking back to Achlys and Nagini, the unlikely pair that seemed to be apparently close. “Harry…was there anything else? Anything pertaining to the escapees?” Atlas didn’t know why she had asked, she didn’t really want to know but thinking of Achlys and Nagini made her think of Edha and Kushaal.

“No…not as a topic but, there were other people, surrounding Rookwood and Voldemort,” Harry said, nodding and Atlas turned to look at him, gesturing for him to continue, “and yeah, some of them were the escapees, Bellatrix wasn’t there though.”

“What about those two wandless casters?” Atlas asked and Harry seemed to think a moment before shaking his head.

“No.”

The lesson came to end and so did the day, it was nearing dinner time and Harry gave his goodbyes. He would be having another Occlumency class with Snape that night, so Atlas expected the topic of discussion to be something of relation to that, it usually was. But she didn’t get much of a chance to join in on the conversation, as halfway through her dinner she was approached by a familiar silvery gown and those around her stopped chatting to watch.

Atlas did not look up, she was determined to finish her food but when the whispering around her got too obvious to bear, she sighed and put down her cutlery, turning to look up at Dumbledore. The man seemed not at all offended by her blatant show of ignorance, which Atlas thought was a true shame.

“Dumbledore?”

“Good evening, Atlas, I’m in need of your assistance if you’d consent to listen?” he spoke wispily and Atlas cursed internally, eyes drifting all over, noting how all eyes had fallen upon them and suddenly she felt as if she had no choice but to accept. She could not refuse in front of so many people. Her gaze settled on Hermione for a moment, the girl looking back at her quizzical and concerned. She was no doubt worried Dumbledore might send her on another mission.

“…of course,” Atlas nodded, standing from her seat, “Mi, could you take my stuff up with you if I don’t return?”

“Atlas, you’re not…” Hermione looked around and then back at her, looking practically desperate, “you’re not…going anywhere, are you?”

“…can’t promise you that, Mi,” she whispered and Hermione’s jaw clenched, her gaze turning to Dumbledore.

“He can,” she said and Dumbledore seemed momentarily stunned before he smiled, chuckling quietly while those who had heard Hermione’s words looked between the three, clearly confused.

“I assure you, Miss Granger, we won’t be gone long,” he said, an odd sparkle in his eye that Atlas did not like so she turned and walked out, Dumbledore eventually following until they were just outside and the chatter within the Great Hall renewed. “She has fire in her.”

“She’s a Gryffindor,” Atlas said and crossed her arms, “what did you want?”

“I wish for you to accompany me in retrieving a new professor to fill in for the empty Divination post,” Dumbledore said simply and Atlas quickly grew quizzical. The last time she checked Trelawney was still alive and well, in fact, just moments ago she could have sworn she’d seen the woman nursing a large bottle of sherry at the staff table.

“Pardon?” Atlas said, blinking rapidly. “Did I not just see Trelawney necking a bottle of sherry?”

“That was no hallucination, she’s very much still here,” Dumbledore eased, smiling, “however, I’ve recently come away from a conversation with Profesor Umbridge, and the woman has declared Trelawney be sacked.”

“And you just let it happen?” Atlas frowned. Trelawney was not the best Divination teacher around, sometimes she definitely could not read the room no matter how vehemently she declared she could but Atlas would sooner kiss Umbridge than admit she had ever made a good call. Not on her life or even over her dead body.

“It’s out of my hands.”

“Yeah, well, it’s always out of your hands isn’t Dumbledore,” Atlas snapped sourly, “so, who do you want me to retrieve then?”

“We’ll be going into the Forbidden Forest, where, as I understand it, the Centaurs reside,” Dumbledore told and Atlas frowned, furrowing her brows in contemplation.

“You’re looking to hire a centaur?”

“Yes and that is exactly why I am in need of your assistance,” Dumbledore said and began walking. Atlas hated how her legs moved without her input, following after the man like some dog. “You remember Firenze?”

“Of course, we used to play together, until, well, they didn’t appreciate my turning into an Animagus,” Atlas said and thinking of her furry counterpart made her frown. “Why?”

“I was hoping you would be my bridge.”

“Too bad, I burned it,” Atlas said, the cold night air slapping her across the cheek.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head as they descended from the entrance hall and walked down, deep into the depths and through the mist that had settled across the grounds. The forest grew steadily nearer. “Rather, you have merely blocked the bridge from access.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t change the fact I’ve not spoken to Firenze since I was 12,” Atlas muttered and when Dumbledore stopped at the treeline, she did so as well. “What is it?”

“I wish for you to shift,” Dumbledore said and Atlas shook her head.

“No.”

“Your presence will ward off any unkind creatures,” Dumbledore reasoned, turning to her, a sheen over his lenses from where the moon made the glass it’s home. “It’s imperative and part of the reason I have asked for your company.”

“…I’m not some guard dog, Dumbledore,” Atlas muttered lowly but she seemed to be speaking more to herself as she turned to look between the trees, loosening up her arms with a frown and a flicker of sadness falling over her eye. She closed them and let out a breath before everything grew and she became a great hulking mass of black, a leg charred, gouges in her sides and other new wounds upon her form, from the words on her paw to the cut in her lip, that paled in comparison to the long scars upon the rest of her face.

And it felt wrong, it felt scary, to be in this form, for the last time she had been in it, she had been much, much larger, wafting that Fear throughout the graveyard as she stood over Cedric’s dead body. A low frustrated grow rumbled through and out of her throat at the pestering thoughts and she quickly pushed forward into the bush, Dumbledore following quietly behind.

Large prints pressed into the soft dirt as she walked yet no sound came from it, the gargantuan wolf gliding through the forest, her eyes the only indicator she was more than the darkness granted by the night sky. Dumbledore was quiet, he did not speak and Atlas was grateful for it as she led them towards Centaur territory, deeper and deeper, the one way Atlas still remembered. They passed a fallen tree, done by unnatural means and Atlas looked at it for a very long moment before she passed and quickened her walk.

It did not take long to find them, or rather, it seemed to be some joint effort as they had stumbled upon each other. The Centaurs had sensed their trespassing and had come to eliminate or warn away those that had dared to cross into their neck of the woods, but when they had seen Dumbledore, accompanied by that puppy they had banished from their territory long ago, their arrows were instantly notched and ready for release.

“We come bearing no ill-will,” Dumbledore declared, throwing his hands up in surrender and Atlas looked over at him from her defensive position, the low growl catching in her throat before she fell silent and huffed instead, sitting simply. “I am here simply to propose an offer of alliance.”

A familiar face emerged from the parting herd and Firenze stood tall and proud at the very front, his pale blond, almost white hair cascading over his bare shoulders while his striking blue eyes stared upon them, illuminated by the moon. He looked to Dumbledore and then to Atlas, silent for a moment before motioning for the rest to lower their weapons.

“Firenze, you cannot be serious?” A voice protested and the herd moved again so that Bane could also stand at the front.

“They bare no malintent, Bane,” Firenze said, calm and collected, “it was foretold we would meet again, Atlas Magianima.”

“I’m sure it was,” Atlas replied, brushing herself down as she shifted back and stretched without even a lick of permission from Dumbledore. The man did not seem fussed however and kept his attention upon the Centaurs.

“How have you been? I have heard whispers amongst the creatures and seen things within the stars,” Firenze said and Atlas, who did truly miss the days she would play with Firenze and still told the story of how she befriended them all fondly, frowned. Stubborn in a way, for she still remembered how they cast her aside.

“I suppose you don’t have to ask me then, consult the constellations,” she said and though Firenze seemed to huff at her snark a few of the others made noises of offence. “They’ll tell you all you need to know.”

“Even the stars aren’t certain,” Firenze said, quite calmly, “I have missed your quick replies, little foal.”

“Seem to be the only one who does,” Atlas said, crossing her arms as she gestured to the rest of the herd with a motion of her head. “Hello, still hate me for becoming a big bad wolf?”

“Filthy mutt,” Bane snapped, hooves digging at the soft floor and Atlas dropped to a stance that was entirely defensive. “Man-made thing, you truly are an abomination!”

“Bane!” Firenze shouted, so loudly Atlas’s eyes flicked to the few owls that fled from their nests and saw in the distance, a fox scrambling for cover. “There is no need for such language,” he snapped and Bane shut up, his hooves pawing testily at the ground. “My apologies Atlas Magianima, you do not deserve such harsh words after all your mother has done for us. You should be treated with respect. Now, Dumbledore, you were proposing an alliance.”

“As if we would ever align with man,” Magorian, another centaur widely regarded as one of the top centaurs of the herd said, coming forward.

“Now there’s no need for tha’,” Atlas straightened, eyes widening as she turned to look over at Hagrid. Where he had come from and how he had snuck up on them was truly a mystery, the man was huge and not exactly subtle. “Dumbledore,” he nodded and then grinned at Atlas, his face still odd hues of purple and blue. “‘Ello Atlas, fancy seeing you ‘ere.”

“Hagrid? Why are you…? Never mind,” Atlas sighed, shaking her head. With him around Dumbledore wouldn’t have needed Atlas, so why had he made her come?

“My proposal is simple,” Dumbledore began, still as serenely calm as ever, “I wish for you, Firenze, to come and teach Divination within Hogwarts.”

At once the herd was in uproar and Atlas shifted on instinct, lying almost prone as she looked between each furious face, ready to defend herself should the anger of the Centaurs boil over. Through all of this, however, Firenze remained still and Atlas slowly rose, eyes fixated upon the Centaur as he motioned for everybody to fall silent. And they did, whether they meant to or not, it just seemed to be instinct.

“Is Sybil Trelawney, no longer with us?”

“Sybil is alive and well, though soon, she is to be sacked, I assume she is getting the news right this instant,” Dumbledore told and Firenze nodded, seemingly contemplative.

“Firenze, tell these humans to leave us!” Bane demanded, trying to catch Firenze’s eye, but the Centaur remained silent. “Firenze!”

“I have always said, mingling with the humans could prove beneficial,” Firenze said after a long tense moment, “I feel it is time we move from our traditions, not all of them but some,” he added and that had apparently been the wrong thing to say — the very wrong thing to say as suddenly, that instinct, whatever it had been that had compelled the herd to listen to Firenze snapped and went up in ablaze.

The Centaurs turned on him, so quickly not even Dumbledore seemed to comprehend what was happening until Bane had landed a kick right in the centre of Firenze’s chest so that he fell and rolled down the hill they had stood upon. It was a massacre, the scene that followed, a free for all where almost every Centaur tried to land a hit upon Firenze’s form. And suddenly Atlas was moving, Hagrid as well, breaking up the fight.

Once or twice Atlas received a powerful kick to her side but none was quite so staggering as the one she received to her snout, sending water straight to the ducts of her eyes as blood poured from her presumably very damaged nose. She whined once or twice but jumped right back in, trying her hardest not to draw blood but ultimately dealing quite a bit of damage. And when the dust settled, Hagrid helped Firenze upright, Dumbledore tried his best to placate the Centaurs and Atlas paced, teeth bared as she habitually ran her tongue along her top teeth, where the blood continued to pour.

“You are to never return here, Firenze!” Bane practically roared, pacing just the same as Atlas, his face red with rage, “you are a traitor! A mere mule! If you are to step a hoof upon the forest floor your life will not be spared! Begone! Gone from this place!”

Atlas snarled, growling lowly as she approached but Firenze moved forward, placing a hand upon her side.

“It is quite all right, Atlas Magianima. Let us go,” he managed between pained breaths, his other hand wound around his abdomen, he turned to look at Bane, Magorian, also sending a fleeting look to Ronan, one of the only Centaurs who had not jumped to assault him before he turned and walked in the direction of Hogwarts, limping all the while. In the distance, Atlas vaguely heard the beginnings of a long conversation between Firenze and Dumbledore. “Let us discuss my living arrangements Dumbledore.”

“You alrigh’ there Atlas?” Hagrid asked and Atlas looked upon him, licking her teeth again so that a strong taste of iron coated it like a thick blanket, she merely chuffed and nodded, motioning instead to Hagrid. “Me? I’m alrigh’, Atlas. Bin got worse before. Why are yeh out here then?”

Atlas motioned to Dumbledore ahead of them and Hagrid frowned before smiling.

“Well, Dumbledore must’ve had a reason for it, I suppose,” he muttered and Atlas could not entirely fault him for his view of Dumbledore, the reason why he had placed the man on such a high pedestal was not for any mere thing. Dumbledore had helped him when he was younger, giving him a job and a home. Hagrid perhaps did not want to think of the man as anything but great. “Yeh’ll get tha’ cleaned up, alrigh’. Maybe Hermione’ll do it for yeh?”

Atlas nodded again, hoping over an overly large tree root protruding from the forest floor. Their conversation was incredibly one-sided but Hagrid at least stuck to topics Atlas could answer without words. She made some vague noises here or there but did not shift back into a human once until they exited the forest, there she returned to her regular form and reached her hand up to touch her nose, certain it would become an entirely different shape if she kept breaking it.

“I must thank you for your help tonight Hagrid,” Dumbledore spoke as a heavy mist rolled in and Hagrid waved it off, clearly embarrassed by the praise. Atlas wished the man would one day see Dumbledore for what he truly was. “For now, goodnight, I must escort our new Divination professor to the castle, where, I’m sure, quite the scene awaits us.” Hagrid nodded, offering his own farewell before starting off in the direction of his hut. “Atlas, you must slip inside unnoticed, Umbridge will see you otherwise and will pick up on your involvement.”

“Didn’t think you cared,” Atlas muttered bitterly as she touched at the blood from her nose with the hem of her shirt, quickly staining it red. She nodded though and walked ahead, slipping inside a side door, much smaller than the main entrance and far removed from where Dumbledore would be entering.

So, by the time she made it on the scene, Firenze had been revealed and a shot of absolute bliss coursed through Atlas at the sight of Umbridge absolutely mortified.

“This is Firenze,” Dumbledore said happily and Atlas absolutely despised Dumbledore, she truly did but right now she wanted to give the man the biggest hug as he stared down at a thunderstruck Umbridge. “I think you’ll find him suitable.”

Predictably, Umbridge went mad and while Atlas would have loved to sit and watch the entire thing, a bag of sweets in hand, but she had noticed Hermione in the crowd, looking around quickly, sort of panicked at the absence of Atlas at Dumbledore’s side. So she’d waded her way through the student body and come to a stop behind the girl. She leant forward so that her mouth was right by the girl’s ear.

“Looking for someone?”

“Atlas!” Hermione practically cried but in a way that was clearly meant to be a whisper. She turned, pulled away and grew pale at the state of her face. “What — what happened!?”

“I got hurt,” Atlas shrugged, sighing, “kiss me better?”

“God, do you have a concussion?” Hermione then added, looking her over and brushing back her hair to get a good look at her forehead. No bumps.

“Fine, I’ll go ask someone else to kiss me better. Look, there’s Katie –“

“You’re not going anywhere,” Hermione snapped, grabbing her wrist and holding it tight. “Tell me what happened.”

“…the other centaurs ganged up on Firenze when he said yes to becoming a professor, I…stepped in,” Atlas muttered and Hermione scowled.

“Please do not tell me you tried to face a herd of Centaurs by yourself?”

“Hagrid was there?”

“Christ, Atlas,” Hermione breathed, clearly livid as she glared daggers in Dumbledore’s direction. 

“Atlas! There you are! Hermione was looking for you — oh wait, she’s found you already,” Atlas turned to Ron, the boy’s smile dropping as he swallowed, so audibly Atlas had to smile, even though Hermione was practically a tiny ball of rage burning her side. “Bloody hell, mate…what happened to your face?”

“Nose job.”

“This isn’t funny!” Hermione snapped again when Ron could not restrain his laughter. “It’s not funny at all.”

“Hermione…”

“No, Atlas, I’m sick and tired of this,” Hermione said and Atlas looked at her before turning to Ron, the boy frowning as he, too, looked at Hermione. 

“Mi…it’s just a broken nose,” Atlas tried, reaching out to touch the girl’s arm but she pulled away.

“Yeah and what next? You lose a leg? An arm? Your life?”

“Hermione, that’s not…” Atlas sighed, her words trailing off, “you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“Start having more consideration for yourself Atty, for fuck sake.”

And with that, she stormed off, leaving Ron and Atlas behind, surrounded by chattering students too busy focused on the events before them to comprehend what was happening in their small, once three now two-person bubble.

“She cares about you quite a bit, huh?” Ron said, breaking the silence as students stopped lingering and returned to dinner. Atlas nodded.

“Sometimes, I think more than I deserve,” Atlas muttered, “but she…she had to know I had no real choice, right?”

“I think so…maybe that’s why she’s so angry?” Ron shrugged and seemed to try and conjure up an ice pack but only succeeded in summoning one already defrosted, he sighed and handed it to her so that it flopped about in her palm. “Best I could do. Hermione could probably heal it but…”

“Yeah. Thanks, Ron.”

“No problem. So, you know that Firenze guy?”

“Hmm?” Atlas had been staring off the way Hermione had disappeared, “oh, yeah…we were friends once.”

“You’re friends with a lot of the forest creatures. Starting to think you are one.”

“Funny.”

“I know. I saw Harry a moment ago, I think we should go and find him, we were talking about lesson plans, you know and –“

Atlas did not listen to a word, freezing the pack Ron had summoned for her with a simple spell and pressing it to her face as she continued to stare the way Hermione had gone, face contemplative as she then gazed upon the blood on her hand. 

She sighed.