Chapter 70

Interhouse Quidditch might have been cancelled for the school year but that didn’t mean it was completely off-limits, much to Atlas’s delight. During the beginning of the year she had thought it was well and truly disbanded for the Triwizard Tournament but after groaning about it to Minerva after a homework session in her office, the lady had ever so helpfully, told her that she could indeed sit in the sky and relax. A bit late but Atlas was thankful nonetheless.

So there she was, sat in the sky laying lengthways across her broom, her team Letterman Jacket on with her number and surname sprawled in gold across her back. She stared up at the darkening sky, watching as the clouds moved in tandem, the birds above, some magical and some mundane, singing their songs and tunes. A particularly small figure was circling above her, occasionally swooping down to sit on Atlas’s finger. 

Little Robin had been growing restless with Kalo’s absence, shrieking in some sort of tantrum late into the night, pecking at the window glass incessantly to be freed from Atlas’s dorm and most notably, he had been refusing cuddles with his favourite body warmer, the Agoniser, Atlas’s souvenir from the first trial. So Atlas had taken him with her when she’d decided to go for a fly, taking the opportunity of being in the air to supervise the small bird made entirely of Viktor Krum’s magic. That was a fact she tried to dwell on though, she knew all too well you couldn’t judge someone based on who made them. It didn’t matter anyway, she was Little Robin’s mother now.

“Little Robin!” Atlas called into the sky, holding out her hand to catch the little man as he landed – clumsily – in her palm. “We need to go in now, it’s getting windy and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

It earned a low chirp in return but Little Robin seemed to comply, struggling out of her hand just so he could then burrow himself in the layers of Atlas’s clothes, her breast pocket apparently being the designated home base. She made sure he was secure before descending from the sky, banishing her borrowed broomstick back to the spare equipment shed when she’d touched the grass of the pitch before heading back inside with windswept hair.

What she hadn’t bet on was bumping into Cedric Diggory, apparently, on his way back from a meeting with his fellow prefects. She ended up knocking him off of his feet, stumbling backwards a bit herself from the collision. Thankfully she and Cedric hadn’t squished Little Robin in the accident.

“Diggory, watch where you’re going, yeah?” Atlas mumbled, cradling her head in one hand as she held the other out for the boy to take. He chuckled, taking the help and dusting himself down when he was stood again.

“Atlas, I didn’t see you there.”

“Clearly, pillock,” Atlas grinned, “End of term Prefect meeting?”

“Yeah, just some final preparation stuff. I got picked to work with Moody for the final task,” Cedric told and Atlas frowned, her heart sort of lurching in a way that warned her of danger. She brushed it off though, as soon, she and Cedric were dodging a Fanged Frisbee and she ended up taking her heart’s sudden spasm as a warning of the stupid Zonko’s product. It soon went away anyway. “I should probably go and confiscate that. Have a good Easter Las!”

“Yeah, you too. Now, go be a goody-two-shoes,” Atlas jeered.

“Shove off,” Cedric scoffed and went to walk away but Atlas suddenly lit up, an excited smile forming across her face.

“Hey, Diggory!” He turned and she reached forward, pulling a Galleon from behind his ear. “Think you dropped something.”

“Nice reappearing charm, smartass,” Cedric grinned.

“No, wait, it’s Muggle Magic — !” Cedric was already walking away, “– Hermione taught –” and suddenly, he was gone, “– me…” she stared down at the Galleon in her hand and scowled, tucking it back in her pocket as she turned to walk away, grumbling under her breath.

Eventually, Atlas found herself back in Gryffindors Common Room, following after some first-year after forgetting that weeks password and finding Hermione sat at the large table by the hearth, nose buried in a book that had nothing to do with their holiday homework, instead, it looked to be a book on Stealth Charms, a devastatingly tricky charm that, should it go wrong, could potentially turn the caster invisible forever, a mistake that would be permanent.

And, well, Atlas wasn’t surprised in the least to find Hermione doing so. See, after another bout of hate mail, from Howlers to Hexed Letters, Hermione had reached her boiling point. One could only take so many rude awakenings at two in the morning after all and Atlas didn’t blame her, in fact, she encouraged it – in a healthy way of course – because, a lot of the time the hate mail had indirectly affected her as well considering she was always by Hermione’s side and she really hated the Howlers. Merlin, they were painful.

“I doubt Rita would be so reckless,” Atlas mused, lying beside her, head by her thigh as she stretched out her limbs with a flurry of contented sighs. “Stealth Charms are disastrous, even if they were to go right, you lose concentration and you’ll either reveal yourself in all your naked glory or, well, you’ll be stuck see-through.”

Hermione slammed her book shut, looking fiery and entirely frightening, “whatever she’s doing, I swear…I swear I’ll have her.”

“Take a break.”

“I can’t just — !” 

“Hold on, wait…what — what is that?” Atlas reached up to Hermione’s ear, pulling a flower of a pure white hue from behind it and holding it up to her, “Woah, magic…” she whispered with a hint of playfulness, Hermione couldn’t help but smile rolling her eyes as she took the pretty flower from between Atlas’s fingers and twirled it between her own.

“What is it?”

“A Gardenia.”

“Oh? And what does it mean?”

“…they can symbolise clarity,” Atlas eventually answered. “I hope you get clarity.”

“What else can they mean?”

“Er — respect, trust, all the mushy stuff you like.”

“Really? And was that Muggle Magic or Magic Magic you just used?”

“Magic Magic…” Atlas mumbled sheepishly, a small smile on her face. “But I did do Muggle Magic on Cedric before coming up here, he thought it was a reappearing charm though, the dickhead.”

“You thought it was a reappearing charm.”

“Yeah and I’m a dickhead,” Atlas grinned. “A charming dickhead.”

“You’re cute but I need to trudge on, I just know Skeeter is hiding something,” Hermione sighed, turning back to her book but Atlas hadn’t really noticed, her cheeks flushing a dark crimson as she suddenly bolted upright, jostling Little Robin who she had admittedly forgotten about in her and Hermione’s chat. “Are you ok, Atty?”

“YeAh.”

A voice crack, Atlas had been absolutely obliterated by a voice crack.

“You sure?” Hermione tried and failed to hide the amusement in her voice.

“Yeah! Yeah, totally,” Atlas clarified, coughing to clear her throat a few times before she stood and readjusted her jacket, moving with some desperation to get out of the Tower, only realising halfway down the corridor leading to the Fat Lady’s painting that she did not know that weeks password. And unfortunately for her, most Gryffindors had left for Easter Break. She’d pulled a Neville Longbottom.

Honestly, she could not believe that in her embarrassment and humiliation, she had locked herself out of her dorm with no clue as to what the password might be. Merlin, she should have listened to whatever that first-year had said. She hurried back to the portrait, looking up at the Fat Lady as she cleaned another wine glass, breathing on it to create some moisture.

“Password?”

“Could you let me back in a second, I…forgot something in my dorm.”

“No password, no entrance.”

“I literally just left,” Atlas pleaded.

“No password…” the Fat Lady looked down on her, “No entrance.”

“Oh come on! Could you at least give me a hint?

“No.”

“Fine,” Atlas didn’t really want to go back and face Hermione anyway. She turned to leave, only to realise she wouldn’t be able to go anywhere, it was past curfew, the grounds had grown far too dark by now and it’s not like she could go into the Forbidden Forest if it was light out, nor would she want to, there was nothing for her there anymore. Lyra had moved far too deep into the Forest now, to live out her remaining years and though Atlas saw her occasionally, it was only from the window of her dorm. And the Centaurs didn’t welcome her anymore.

The only reason she would even go anywhere near the forest after seeing The Monster there was to get to that secluded bank by the Black Lake that she enjoyed napping on, it was perfectly removed, no one went there except Atlas and Luna, perhaps Hermione, Harry and Ron on occasion but that was only because it was a perfect spot to feed the Giant Squid. That was all and Atlas didn’t mind them interrupting her naps. 

She sighed and turned back to the Fat Lady, resigning to her fate. She slumped down beside the painting, ignoring but still noticing how the Lady lowered her wine glass slightly, opting to peer at her, sort of…analysing her. And then she was gone from the canvas, reappearing in the one directly across from where Atlas sat still staring at her. Yet, Atlas continued to ignore her, instead, pulling Little Robin out from her jacket to watch his tiny form sleep in her much larger palm.

Looking at him reminded her of Kalo and on some spur of emotion, for the first time since he’d started going on his trips to who knows where, Atlas felt sad. Sad she hadn’t seen him for so long and that he didn’t care enough to let her know where he was going. She suddenly realised how Hermione must have felt when she’d disappeared for the First Task, she’d obviously understood she’d upset Hermione but now that she had felt it she felt an abrupt need to hug the girl.

Unfortunately, a stubborn painting was in her way.

“You are…Amaya’s daughter.”

Atlas stopped, staring down at Little Robin silently before she decided to look up, noticing how the Lady had sat down as well, mirroring her movements. The Fat Lady was talking to her? Why? As far as Atlas knew, the Lady was far too uptight, too snobbish to talk to any of the students, and after she’d just told Atlas she wasn’t allowed back inside Gryffindor Tower? What was she playing at? And why that question of all questions? They’d known each other for years, surely she’d have known by now.

“Yes? Didn’t you know…?”

“No, of course not, I very rarely pay attention to you little ones. I do not have time to dally with children,” The Lady waved off dismissively but gave Atlas another once over, “I did think you looked rather familiar that night you came back from getting chosen. You were rather rude back then.”

“Yeah, well, I found out I was entered into a tournament I never wanted to be in,” Atlas muttered. “Sorry, though, I didn’t mean to come across as ignorant.”

“No matter, tell me, how is Amaya these days?”

That confused Atlas.

“She’s dead…I — how don’t you know that?”

“Dead? I…well,” The Lady lapsed into a moment of silence, looking quite far away, “My — my memory isn’t quite what it used to be I suppose, being some paint on a canvas. I find my memory can become unreliable sometimes…”

“Did you know her then? My mum?”

“Oh yes, love, very well.”

“I’m surprised, I thought you said you didn’t ‘dally with children’?” Atlas couldn’t help the sass that seeped into her voice and internally cursed Harry for the slip. Thankfully, the Lady hadn’t seemed to notice, instead, she waved Atlas off once more.

“Your mother was hardly a child. Wise beyond her years I say, she always asked the most ludicrous of questions, most of which I could not answer,” The Lady admitted.

“Like what? School stuff?”

“No actually…she asked about my life before.”

“Before what?”

“Before I was a painting, you plonker! What else?” The Lady sighed out with a hint of frustration, Atlas smiled with an eyebrow raised, finding some amusement in riling up the painting of the Lady, a spirit of sorts, lost in time, her name forgotten. Or was it forgotten? 

“And who were you before? What was your name?”

“I was a performer, a star, I just know my voice touched the hearts of — of thousands but…I do not remember my name…time has unfortunately taken that from me,” She seemed to grow sombre, seemed to grow tired of thinking about her past. Not in a way that was annoyed, more in a way she was tired of longing for something she could never have back. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, hun. Nothing you could do, you may be able to restore my painting from crumbling into a pile of nothing, but, recovering my memory, erased from the fabric of my canvas? I’m afraid no Magic can save that which has been forgotten by all,” It was jarring to see the Lady so placid, she was usually so snappy, so loud and happy. Full of life. Now, after talking with Atlas, she just seemed sad.

“Are you — are you really sure there is nothing I can do?”

“Positive, dear. Your mother and her lady friend tried for many years, but nothing could be done.”

“Lily?”

“Yes, young miss Evans did occasionally help but, no, I’m talking about that Slytherin girl, the one your mother was particularly smitten with. Oh, what was her name…?”

“Smitten…?” Atlas mouthed, her eyes going slightly wider. “My mum liked women?”

“Close your mouth, hun, you might swallow a fly.”

Atlas’s mouth clamped shut. “By any chance, was her name Visha?”

“Visha? Who’s that?”

“No idea, I thought you’d know.”

“Well no…oh goodness, this is going to torment me,” The Lady muttered, pacing through the vacant paintings that were dotted throughout the hallway.

Atlas just sat, trying to understand the implications of all of this. So her mother liked witches and wizards? Or was she like Katie? Better yet, what was the name of the Slytherin girl her mother was smitten with? Merlin, she had so many questions. The more she found out about her mother, the less she really knew, and by Merlin that was beyond infuriating.

A soft click came from beside Atlas but it didn’t shake her from her thoughts, didn’t even seem to rouse her in the slightest. So when Hermione stepped out of the painting, deciding to sit next to her Atlas didn’t notice until the girl flipped her hair over her shoulder, her familiar perfume tickling at her nose. The girl snapped upright, almost stumbling across the floor when she realised just who had manifested before her.

“Hermione!”

“You know, you really shouldn’t run off when it’s curfew. Not to mention how terribly hard you made it to concentrate after that stunt you pulled with the flower. Tactless, really.”

“I — er — give Minnie loads of flowers though?”

“Way to make a girl feel special, treat her like your godmother,” Hermione jeered, looking at Atlas with a playful smile. Atlas mirrored it, though more with a hint of disbelief, her own eyes glinting with something akin to admiration, borderline affectionate. “What are you doing out here then, Atty?”

“I forgot the password.”

“Of course you did,” Hermione sighed and stood, pulling Atlas to her feet also. “Come on then, how’s Little Robin?”

“Asleep, still,” Atlas managed, a smile on her face as she pulled back her jacket, revealing the little guy sleeping in her breast pocket.

“Cutie, must be all tuckered out from flying,” Hermione smiled as well.

“Yeah, I am,” Atlas agreed, making a show of exaggerating her fatigue.

“Only thing cute about you, is all the animals you own,” Hermione said.

“You said I was cute earlier though?”

“I guess people say stupid things when they’re running on two hours of sleep,” Hermione shrugged.

“Rude…”

“You know I’m joking,” Hermione said, shaking her head as the two of them climbed up into the girls’ dorms. 

They each settled in their respective beds when they got inside their shared room, Atlas placing Little Robin in the nest Hermione had made him before taking off her clothes and Hermione doing the same behind the curtains of her bed frame. It was a silent task, but Atlas didn’t find it uncomfortable. She sighed, cracking her neck as she pulled on her plaid pyjama pants and went on a hunt for her shirt.

“Hey, Mi, have you seen my shirt?”

“No…I think I might have taken it down for laundry this morning. It should be back by now though, Fobbo said he’d bring it, check under your pillow.”

“Already have, not there, he’s probably gone to see his lady friend again,” Atlas sighed. “Don’t matter, I just won’t wear one. It’s getting hotter anyway.”

“Sure.”

Atlas collapsed back into her bed, laying on top of sheets as she stared up at the ceiling. The Agoniser had since woken from its inanimate state, flying around as soon as Hermione and Atlas walked through the door. Now she was hanging over her, staring at her, upside down, with her tongue poking through the side of her mouth, just as a dog would do. It was beyond adorable and Atlas reached up to give her Agoniser friend another platform to jump to.

They played for a bit, until Hermione had finished getting changed and then, when the girl climbed into bed, Atlas got beneath her own covers, turning on her side to look over at the girl, the Agoniser crawling to lay beneath her chin.

“Where’s Crook?”

“In the common room by the fire, I left the door open in case he wanted to sleep up here, though, I think he likes how the fire feels when it gets trapped in his fur,” Hermione told quietly, yawning as she reached out and turned down her lamplight. Atlas did the same, so that they were both only just illuminated by the lights dampened glow. 

“Yeah, I’m sure that feels amazing,” Atlas mumbled, sighing out in content as she got comfortable. However, though she was sleepy and her body ached for slumber, she found her mind wide awake and buzzing, questions, sentences, past words and future scenarios keeping her from falling asleep.

“You can’t sleep, can you?” Hermione asked, with an amused lilt to her voice and when Atlas shook her head, she sighed. “Ne neither.”

They remained silent after that, simply staring silently, dealing with their own frustrations quietly. That was until Atlas broke it. “Did you know, the paintings slowly lose their sense of self? They forget who they are?”

“No, I didn’t, that’s horrible,” Hermione whispered.

“I was talking to the Lady about it…she doesn’t even remember her name, Mi.”

“Do you think she ever wanted to be a painting? When she was alive?”

“I don’t know and I don’t think she’d be able to remember. I don’t think I would want to be though, I’d feel quite trapped, lonely…”

“Unless we had a painting together,” Hermione smiled and Atlas let out a small laugh, nodding sluggishly. “The Lady gets visits from her friend Violet, doesn’t she? We can be liked them.”

“Sure, Mi. You’d be stuck with me forever…”

“I’m not sure I’d mind that.”

“Me either.”