Chapter 61

Waking up in a hospital bed was a habit Atlas had intended to leave behind, however, it seemed that habit did not want to leave her. When Atlas woke up, it wasn’t softly, nor did her eyes simply flutter open leaving her to awaken with a comfortable and fulfilling yawn. No, Atlas woke up with a violent start, panting heavily with numb limbs and claws that ripped brutal openings through her covers, leaving blood upon the sheets from where they had impaled the pads of her paws. She yelped, focusing on her hands so they grew their human properties back and replaced her monstrous talons, a stuttery breath expelling from her throat.

The curtains around her pulled back sharply, revealing Madam Pomfrey alongside Minerva, Moody and Dumbledore. They eyed her with varying reactions, both Poppy and Minerva relieved while Dumbledore remained his whispy self and Moody whirled his fake eye around the room, surveying the area. Seemed to be expecting some sort of attack but that was his natural state so Atlas didn’t panic. Instead, she squinted at them, around the room and then down to herself, she’d been changed into some of her casual clothing, though it was flush against her body, lining her abdomen in slick creases. As was the hair that stuck to her forehead and neck, she wondered how long her unconsciousness had lasted.

“Atlas…” Minerva breathed, a hand to her chest as she looked to Poppy in relief and then back to her goddaughter, moving forward to take the girls hand.

“Minnie? What happened?”

“You collapsed,” Moody answered, hobbling over to her and staring deep into her eyes, it was uncomfortable and disturbingly intimate. That’s how Moody had been as of late though, so it didn’t unnerve Atlas as much as it had originally, she figured that’s just how Moody was.

Always suspicious, always cautious, remaining ever vigilant. Though the air around him would forever be unsettling to Atlas, she reckoned the only thing remotely comforting belonging to the man was that locked chest he kept in his office. Ironic considering it screamed every chance it got. It really was hard to believe her mother was so close to such a disturbing man, and she didn’t mean that physically, rather, spiritually. He felt wrong.

“I — I did?”

“Miss Granger brought you here, beside herself with guilt, she’d somehow found reason to blame herself,” Poppy informed, moving to take a look at the girls punctured hands as Atlas remained to stare at Dumbledore. He was the only one who hadn’t said anything and though he seemed to have the least to say, Atlas knew his knowledge on the situation was far more expansive than anyone there, even Atlas herself. Especially Atlas herself.

“Do you mind…recounting the events of that night?” Dumbledore asked, blissfully calm.

“That night? Hold on, how long have been out?”

“A little over a week,” He offered simply and Atlas’s eyes went wide.

“But I was just…I was just dancing…a few moments ago, with Fleur…” She breathed, growing sort of erratic the more she remembered. “And then…Ron and Hermione bickered and then I did and then…there was the music, it was loud, really really loud and then…”

“You lost control of your magic,” Dumbledore finished, that glint in his eye that Atlas had slowly come to despise, come to genuinely hate, because it told her he knew something, knowledge and wisdom that she craved but would never have because Dumbledore was nothing if not secretive. He spoke in riddles, answered in questions, he could spin a conversation and wrap it upon his finger. Albus Dumbledore may be one of the greatest wizards to grace the earth but he was definitely not one of the greatest most merciful of persons.

“Why do you enjoy keeping answers from me?” Atlas asked, voice cracking slightly. “Do you enjoy seeing me suffer? Keeping me in the darkness of my own torment?!” she pushed the tray beside her bed away, sending it clattering to the floor as she stood up and came to a stop just at his toes, eyes glaring only slightly up into his. “I know you know…so just tell me! Please…why am I so different…?”

“Everyone…” Dumbledore spoke up, hands clasped behind his back as he held that steady eye contact they had locked themselves in. “Please give me and Atlas a moment.”

“Headmaster…” Minerva started but Dumbledore was resolute, she could tell by how the light in his eyes had all but extinguished. Moody left first, holding the curtain open for Poppy who placed a gentle hand at the small of Minerva’s back and guided them beyond the little fabric walled room of secrecy.

“So…” Atlas pressed and she hated how when Dumbledore motioned to sit she did so without question.

“I have told you before, Atlas. Magical outbursts of accidental magic are not uncommon in stressful situations,” he told simply, sitting down in the chair at her bedside. “And again, it is only different because you have much more raw power hidden within you, so there is more to repress.”

“Yes but why?”

“You are a prodigal child.”

“That’s not the reason and you know it! There’s something! Something else and I know you know what it is!” She fumed, fingers digging into the springs of her mattress. “So why won’t you tell me?”

“Because…” Atlas looked up, this was the first time she’d ever seen the man hesitate and for a moment he looked genuinely saddened. “Your mother made me promise to only tell you when you were ready and…you are not, nor are you capable of understanding.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m ready. I’m telling you right now I’m ready.”

“You are not ready. You are desperate,” Dumbledore corrected and Atlas crumbled just a tad, a defeated breath leaving her as she looked to her feet. “Atlas.”

“What?”

“Do you know why your Animagus took the form of the Dire-wolf?”

“Of course not,” Atlas muttered, looking up at him.

“Do you know where they came from?”

“Dire-wolves? Well, they were created by wizards and witches. They were seen as invalid to the natural order of the wizarding world back then and were forced to protect given masters, bound by magics law,” Atlas said, reciting a part of an essay she had spewed up one night for Professor Binns and his History of Magic class. She remembered how uncomfortable the lesson on the differences between the rare few Man-made creatures and beasts made from Ancient Magic had made her. How the man’s words on the ruthlessness of the Dire-wolf sent horrible shivers down her spine.

“Good…” Dumbledore nodded sagely.

“I still don’t understand what you’re trying to say, Dumbledore. All you do is talk in vague responses and it’s infuriating!”

“I apologise for that.”

“Do you mean that, though? Because though you apologise you continue to do it,” Atlas gritted.

“I apologise for that as well,” he smiled and Atlas glared at him, watching as he chuckled amusedly and pulled back a curtain. Immediately the air of secrecy and thinly veiled answers dissipated and Atlas found herself sighing. She had more questions now than she had before. “Oh, before I leave…” Atlas peered over at him. “I suggest you take caution in what you consume, it seems…what happened at the Ball was no accident.”

“Professor?”

“The suits of armour that were catering the event were taken for questioning and disenchantment. We counted one missing and after questioning, the other suits revealed to us what had happened.”

“And?”

“It had been disenchanted prior to the event and was, instead, worn by someone who had orders to pursue you and render you incapable of competing in the next task. Interestingly, the potion used was a magic amplifier, commonly applied, illegally, in Quidditch tournaments. It seems your outburst was induced or rather, increased. I will spare you of all the security measures we have put in place since but know all suits have been pulled from their positions and will be replaced.” Dumbledore told as Atlas blanched. “Now, I am aware this may bring you stress which will not aid your condition, however, if you are as ready as you say you are, you will persevere and you’ll be able to do so on your own.”

“Are you saying, that if I am able to control my outbursts…you’ll tell me? Everything? All that I want to know?” Atlas asked, a hopefully innocent look in her eyes. As if she were a child, just promised a certain toy she’d wanted. So vulnerable and susceptible to crushing disappointment. Dumbledore eyed her silent before smiling and turning his back, remaining stood for a moment.

“Perhaps. But know this, Atlas. I do not do this to fuel your suffering. Sometimes our greatest strengths, be it physically or mentally, can be our greatest and most distressing downfalls because they are what lifts us up the highest. And that is why I won’t tell you, the answers you seek,” Dumbledore said. “Until, as I said, you are ready.”

“…right,” Atlas nodded.

“Now,” Dumbledore whisked his wand, fixing the items and tray Atlas had broke in her swipe of sudden anger. “You should get dressed, I’m sure, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger are eagerly awaiting your arrival to Care For Magical Creatures.”

“I just woke up…” Atlas whispered to herself as the man walked away, she heard the clunking leg of Alastor Moody go after him and knew, Minerva and Poppy would be back any moment, so she waited, head in hand with the other held firmly around herself. Clawing for any comfort she could. She just wanted answers. Answers so that she wouldn’t be left in the unknown any longer. The unknown was scary because having no knowledge left you vulnerable and Atlas did not like being left vulnerable.

The veil she hid behind opened once more and Atlas felt two figures settle on either side of her, offering her the comfort she needed, but it was not enough, she felt as though they did not match her. Their comfort felt like an incorrect input to a spell, though at the same time they matched each other, Minerva and Poppy. It was not as if she rejected their comfort it was that it did not soothe her as much as Sirius and Harry did. Not nearly as much as Hermione did.

Come to think of it, Poppy had said Hermione had been the one to find and deliver her to the hospital and for some reason, had got it in her head that she was the one to blame for Atlas’s sudden loss of consciousness. What had happened in the moments leading to the blackout? Atlas, for the life of her, could not remember. Regardless, she needed to reassure her it wasn’t her fault, she needed to tell her the real reason she’d fainted. Because of that drink.

“Are you ready?”

“What?” Atlas blinked from her daze, looking at Minerva beside her before swallowing with a nod. “Uh, yeah…I just need a shower.”

“You can use my bathroom dear,” Poppy offered, helping her stand. Atlas was quick to find her feet, finding a measly ache in her legs but otherwise, she was alright. Probably had something to do with the medication she was on, Snape may have been the resident Potions master but Poppy knew Atlas did not like taking anything the man gave her and had sought to learn all sorts of remedies specifically for the girl. So much so they’d come to be close to perfected.

“Thanks,” Atlas nodded.

“Your uniform is all ready for you, hun. You’ll find it as you walk in,” Minerva called and Atlas continued forward, catching in the corner of her eye, Minerva finally letting out a shaky breath and covering her face in her hand as Poppy brung her into an assuring hug. Atlas sighed and locked the door behind her. Ensuring her privacy.

Just as she was getting used to the idea of being a champion something had to come and knock her from that yielding and relenting ground. Now she was back to square one, dreading the day February the twenty-fourth was underfoot but she couldn’t let it get to her, she had to prove to Dumbledore she was ready. So she would repress until she learnt how to disperse that wild magic within her in a safe and controlled manner. Because she would prove to him she was ready. She would. No matter what.

She shed her sweat saturated clothes and stepped inside the shower, bottles of the finest soaps, conditioners and shampoos flying over to her from where they sat on a floating shelf. She let them tend to her hair while she scrubbed her body of the mirth that nightmare had wrought. The water left lines down her middle and forked down separate paths found in the depressions across her defined abdomen. It earned a sigh of content from the girl, especially as the cool water struck her and she tilted her head back to bask in its coolness.

Injuries she had sustained from the first task tickled under the light rain from the showerhead, her burn acting particularly pleased with how the water, cooled its irritated skin. She had no doubt been tossing and turning the whole night so it did her injuries good to be brushed by the gentle and cool hand of Poppy’s healing waters. It wasn’t regular water, after all, it was specially made for those in recovering or fresh agony, there was even a bathroom just down the corridor from the hospital she stood in that was lined with showers like the one she smiled under.

It would soothe the injuries of the genuinely hurt but would seriously dampen the mental capabilities of those who simply sought out its euphoric side effects. So it was prohibited to enter without Madam Pomfrey’s direct permission. Atlas had visited the showers quite a bit while recovering from Lupin’s attack as well as the healing pool of the Black Lake.

A quiet creak came from the handle as she shut the water off, simply standing in the steamy room for a moment before it all but vanished through the vents above, leaving her to dry and get changed without the condensation irritating her skin. She stared at herself in the mirror a moment, eyes raking across the scars of her face before she grabbed her tie, wand and bag to finally leave the room. Minerva was no longer there but Poppy was, attending to some paperwork adorned with her name at its head, she withheld her curiosity, however, and instead left after muttering a quick farewell.

The halls were empty, not a soul in sight besides the body-less ones that floated through the halls. Atlas idly waved at them as she passed, exchanging curt conversation with a few that were glad to see her awake. It seemed she’d been the talk of the school. After all, a champion going missing two weeks in a row was bound to arouse suspicions and with that, rumours and gossip. Atlas smiled at a few of the more ludicrous ones and mumbled a few words of disbelief as she carefully made her way down the snowy path to Hagrid’s cabin, finding that her class were nowhere in sight and that the Blast-Ended Skrewts were just as unseen.

She furrowed her brows, glancing around as she adjusted her backpack strap in an attempt to alleviate some pressure from her shoulder. Her ear turned at the sound of gleeful laughter and she swivelled around to follow the path to the paddock, where she found the Beuaxbaton horses shivering. Why wasn’t Hagrid taking care of them? They should be covered in cloaks to protect them from the climate they were not used to. Atlas sighed and moved over to the shed at the edge of the wood, pulling it open to grab the blankets that were stacked inside only to drag them over to the giant horses and swing them over top.

The thanks were immediate as Atlas got several neighs and headbutts of appreciation, she simply smiled and whispered soothing words to the magnificent beasts before continuing further into the wood, finally spotting the backs of her fellow classmates. But Hagrid was not teaching them, in fact, Hagrid was nowhere to be seen, instead, there was an elderly witch at their front, with closely cropped grey hair and a content look on her face.

“Who’s she?” She muttered thoughtlessly as she came to stop behind her best friends. The three of them turned around slowly, Harry the first to jump into her arms while Ron soon followed. They would have toppled into the snow if Atlas hadn’t stuck a leg back to prop them up. She laughed at their enthusiasm, hugging back just as fiercely and when they pulled back, Ron looked on the brink of tears while Harry had a very watery smile on his face. “Woah, why are you crying?”

“I’m not,” Ron refuted indignantly as he wiped his eyes but Harry simply shook his head, still grinning.

“You were out for a week and a bit, Atlas. We almost didn’t think you’d wake up.”

“Nice to know my best friends have so much faith in my will to live,” Atlas huffed as she then peered over Harry’s shoulder and at Hermione who was trying her best to withhold the wobbly line that was her trembling frown. “How are you, Granger?”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione all but blurted in a rush of emotion. Atlas went slightly wide-eyed, glancing around to see that the rest of the class were, thankfully, too enamoured by the unicorn the old lady had brought along to notice her presence and quickly moved forward, tugging Hermione away from the thick of the group and muttering a few words to Harry and Ron so they would cover for them.

They made it a few metres away, hiding behind one of the larger trees as Atlas quickly pulled Hermione into her arms, rocking her from side to side. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“But I pushed you to answer my questions even though you were ill.”

“No, Hermione…I — I don’t remember much of what happened after running after you but it really wasn’t your fault.”

“You…you don’t remember?” Hermione asked timidly and Atlas shook her head. “Not even what you said? What I said? Before you…”

“No…what did I — you say?”

“It’s…not important,” Hermione murmured.

“If you say so…” Atlas still sensed the girl’s guilt so she bent down as to catch the girls eye. “Mi, I’m telling you it wasn’t you…I was–” telling her would potentially make it worse but Atlas didn’t want Hermione beating herself up over something she didn’t actually do. “Hermione, I was…poisoned? Drugged, I don’t know.”

“What?” Hermione’s eyes were now wide and fearful, looking up at Atlas as if she were a ghost.

“The drink I was handed at the Ball had been messed with…it was — it was intended to keep me from the next trial, it was dossed with an illegal drug some Quidditch athletes use and it amplified my accidental magic which is…which is…” Atlas swallowed solidly, clenching her eyes shut to calm her beating heart. “Dangerous…”

“Atlas, you…”

“But it’s fine!” Atlas rushed, rubbing a thumb across a tear that had fallen from Hermione’s eye. “I’ll be under special supervision no doubt and other measures have been put in place, really, I should be able to tell if something’s been drugged. I did think the drink tasted funny but continued drinking it because I thought it could make me forget the Ball and it kind of did. There’s like…blank spots and such but–“

“Atlas!” Hermione cupped Atlas’s face in hers, fingers tracing across scars subconsciously as Hermione grasped for her attention. “Stop.”

“You’re…you’re taking this better than I thought you would.”

“No — no, actually, I’m terrified,” Hermione refuted with a humourless laugh and Atlas could see the tears welling up in her eyes, could feel the shakiness of her hands and see the shallowness of her breaths. Before the tears could fall, Atlas wiped them away with the fabric of her sleeve, pulling her into an assuring hug and smiling tensely at the situation. It really did look bleak. How was she supposed to control her accidental outbursts if she continued collecting stressful situations like Fleur collected suitors? Everything was just stacked against her.

Just her luck, or lack thereof.

“Come on, we should go back before that lady notices we’re gone,” Atlas murmured gently and Hermione nodded, pulling away and wiping her eyes upon her uniform sleeve. Atlas poked her head around the tree, thankful to see the lady was still occupied with the unicorn and the girls fawning over it. “Hey, uh…sorry I was gone so long.”

“You’re here now,” Hermione whispered softly, grabbing her hand and guiding her along. Atlas simply smiled contently, jogging to catch up to her side, so they stopped with the boys together. They turned to greet them, though with a newspaper in hand and varying degrees of rage across their faces.

“First you’re crying and now you look like you want to murder someone. Who?”

“Malfoy,” Harry gritted, hands crinkling the paper he held.

“Git…” Ron added, crossing his arms tightly. “First bits about you and Fleur–” Hermione shuffled awkwardly while Atlas merely quirked a confused brow. “–then somehow, that Skeeter woman found out Hagrid was half-giant and Malfoy fed her words.”

“Isn’t that…common knowledge? I thought everyone knew he was half-giant? And what about me and Fleur?” Atlas asked, holding her hand out for the paper, but Harry hesitated, looking deep into his god-sisters eyes. “Harry?”

“Well, Rita Skeeter says you’re together,” Harry said.

“What? How’d she get that idea?”

“You did kiss her, mate.”

“I fucking what?” Atlas laughed, a disbelieving smile on her face as she waited for Ron and Harry to tell her it was some sort of joke. They didn’t move to speak so Atlas turned to Hermione, eyebrow raised in question. “Hermione?”

“You — you did…kiss her.”

“Har-har, yeah alright.”

“Mate, you really did,” Ron urged and Atlas’s smile steadily fell.

“I wouldn’t do that, I mean…if it was someone else, yeah sure I can believe that but…that’s Fleur. Fleur Delacour, she’s like family. Why would I…?” Atlas held her head in her hand, wracking her brain for the events of that night and as her gaze slowly fell onto an uncomfortable-looking Hermione she gradually remembered. A memory she had wanted to forget in the first place, the only memory she had really wanted to forget in the first place. Krum kissing Hermione. With a soft sort of defeat to her word, Atlas sighed, “Oh…”

“What?”

“I remember,” Atlas mumbled, rubbing at her eyes trying to rid the image of Krum with his face of sheer triumph. “Though I’d much rather I hadn’t.”

“She that bad?” Harry smiled.

“No, it’s not that. I just…remembered the reason.”

“So Fleur could make Davies jealous, right?” Hermione finally spoke.

“What? No, it was because –” Atlas bit her tongue. “– No, yeah, it was because of Davies. I don’t like Fleur like that, I’ve told you guys so many times already, we’re practically family. The fact that I kissed her is terrible and now everyone thinks we’re dating. It’s a disaster.”

“It is,” Hermione nodded, crossing her arms, Harry and Ron looked at her with knowing smirks while Atlas read through the newspaper her godbrother had finally forked over to her, she hadn’t heard a word as she trailed her eyes further down the page.

This was exactly the reason she had been so afraid of Skeeter growing up, the woman just knew everything about everyone, through means Atlas could never hope to comprehend. She wondered how she had even gotten the name of Fridwulfa, Hagrid’s mother. It’s not like Hagrid went about telling random people his story and he certainly did not utter his mother’s name around anybody. What’s worse is that Hagrid had now been replaced and probably sacked from a job he loved so much. That and the fact Rita was promoting bigotted and prejudice opinions on half-breeds, it was simply ignorant.

“One of these days…” Atlas grumbled, taking a breath and handing the article back to Harry. “Merlin, I know I just woke up but I need a nap already…”

“Are you paying attention over there?” The new professor’s voice carried over to the four. Atlas looked up. “Oh, a pleasure to see you’ve finally joined us, Miss Black. I hope you’re well?”

“Ah, yes Professor…”

“Grubbly-Plank, dear. Now, come forward, you as well Miss Granger,” she beckoned. Atlas was glad to see the woman – though strict and conservative looking – was kind and at least seemed educated enough to substitute for Hagrid. So she obliged, Hermione following behind her as the unicorn, head held high, turned ever so slightly to watch as they approached. “They prefer the woman’s touch.”

“Yeah, me too,” Atlas grinned and Hermione slapped her arm, face red as Atlas chuckled and threw her a wink. Hermione simply rolled her eyes, hugging her bag tightly to her chest as she looked off into the distance. This hid her reaction from view so Atlas turned, instead, with her hand held out in front of her, inching toward the magnificent beast. As most magical creatures did, the unicorn pressed its forehead to her hand, letting her stroke long lines from its muzzle to its ears.

“Hey Atlas,” Parvati came over to her, smiling at her kindly as Lavender followed just behind with her eyes still transfixed on the elegance of the unicorns frame. “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

“Hi, Parvati and yeah, glad to be awake, last few nights have been…pure nightmares,” Atlas grinned, though a little tightly. Parvati nodded sympathetically and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Thanks, by the way, for recommending I go see Fleur. I had the time of my life, Padma did too, she got herself a boyfriend I think, he invited her to Hogsmeade when the dance ended,” She told and Atlas nodded, turning away from the unicorn and smiling slightly when it pushed its snout to her face, blowing impatiently for her attention. So, naturally, Atlas succumbed to its demands, she was used to it by now thanks to constantly living with pets in great need of affection. Crookshanks, Little Robin and the Agoniser being a few to name.

“Oh really?” Atlas smiled, an eyebrow raised as she scratched the underside of the unicorns chin and the other girls got to safely brush its hide with glee. “What about you?”

“Me? Well, I…” It was quick, almost unnoticeable but Atlas saw the way Parvati glanced over to Lavender with a flush to her cheeks.

“I see…” Atlas smirked. “Well, if you need any advice…don’t come to me. You should probably see Hermione about that,” she threw a thumb over her shoulder and shot a small wave in the girl’s direction.

“Speaking of,” Parvati began, a smile on her face. “You like her don’t you?”

“Uh…” Atlas blanched and then smiled, running a hand through her hair habitually. “How did you know?”

“The tension,” Atlas quirked a brow while Parvati smirked, “and well, I left my purse back by Harry and went to go grab it, he asked me to go and find you because he thought you didn’t look too good and I did and I caught a bit of what you were talking about and well…sorry.”

“No, wait. I’m actually glad. Can you tell me what we said? Hermione wouldn’t tell me.”

“You don’t remember?” Parvati grinned and when Atlas shook her head she laughed, fully bellied laughter that drew the attention of everyone there.

“Was it bad? Parvati was it — was it bad!?”