Chapter 87

They arrived at Hogwarts, the sky darkened and the air biting, Atlas had changed into her uniform, the trousers a tad too short and her sleeves revealing a large portion of her wrists but she didn’t really mind, she knew Minerva would get her a new uniform when she saw the state she was in. So instead of paying it any mind, she unloaded her trunk from the train, doing the same for everyone that she had shared her compartment with. It was something to get her mind off of things, off of the stares — like spears — in her back, the whispers that made her hands twitch irritably and the occasional nudges and bumps she was attacked with. Each time the perpetrator would run, laughing with their friends.

With the last of their trunks and cages hauled onto the back of their chosen carriage, Atlas turned to wave down her friends, finding that they’d stayed to wait for Ron and Hermione, the two of them getting their last Prefect duties handed to them on small squares of parchment. They didn’t see her, with so many other bodies mingling past and hauling their own trunks over their heads so she gave up for the moment, crossing her arms instead and sitting on the lip of the carriage, waiting, silent, with a glaze over her eyes.

She was tired, her chat with Hermione earlier that day weighing on her mind, dragging down her shoulders. It wasn’t something she really wanted to think about so she tried to seek a different distraction, tucking her hands in her pockets, subsequently disturbing her little Agoniser friend from her slumber. The dragon awoke, flying from within her jacket and perching herself on Atlas’s shoulder.

“Did you sleep well, little lady?” Atlas asked quietly, holding her palm out to catch the Agoniser as it flew again. It stared up at her, pearlescent eyes happy and content as it nodded and Atlas smiled faintly, “that’s good…” 

It circled her palm, padding its paws against her skin before sitting and simply staring. Atlas stared back, tilting her head slightly to look at the figure ‘4’ in its scales, a permanent reminder of the first trial. She blinked, clenching her eyes shut and taking a breath, she opened them again to see the Agoniser staring at her curiously, to which she smiled and shook her head, digging her hand in her pocket again to pull out the picture she’d placed there earlier that morning.

Cedric smiled up at her when she’d unfolded it, a younger, happier version of herself doing the same as Bella scrambled to the floor, screeching something terrible. Atlas’s smile faded as she thumbed the moving ink. This is how she should remember him, Bella had said, yet, when Atlas thought of Cedric in that instant, the emotion on the inks face shifted to something fearful.

She folded it closed again. Tucking it quickly into her pocket.

Silent footfalls approached her and Atlas looked up, expecting to see her friends, all ready to go but instead, a long, white beard greeted her, Dumbledore’s sparkling gown and his half-moon spectacles a bad omen in Atlas’s eyes. He smiled and Atlas frowned, carefully moving her little Agoniser to her pocket once more.

“Atlas.”

“Dumbledore.”

“Would you be so kind as to join me on a stroll?”

“You’ll miss the entrance ceremony…I’ll miss dinner,” Atlas said, though she stood, inching to the tree line away from any eager ears and the eyes that followed them. It was, of course, strange to see Dumbledore greeting a student personally at the train station, so she didn’t entirely blame them for their intrigue.

“I assure you, you’ll find your dinner will be just as delicious as always, whether you feast in the Great Hall or your dorm room and I will not miss my speech, Minerva will handle the initial welcoming,” Dumbledore spoke calmly, clearly with certainty as he then gestured to a path in the forest, one Atlas knew to lead to the back entrance of the Great Hall. “Now please, let us take a walk.”

“Ok,” Atlas nodded, casting a final glance to the carriage before following Dumbledore into the thick of trees. 

It was dark, cold, the air wet and slick against Atlas’s skin, licking her cheeks as she walked down that overgrown path, twigs catching on her robes, dead sticks snapping with every footfall, many times a bramble would nick her exposed ankles and wrists, her neck. Yet Dumbledore remained untouched, his refined way of moving allowed him safe passage while Atlas’s firm and heavy way of walking left openings for the vicious wood. But Atlas did not flinch, instead, she persisted and moved in tandem with her headmaster.

The castle’s rear became clear in the distance, the bridge suddenly underfoot, candlelight sending reflections of orange and gold across the Black Lake, illuminating the water’s ripples and the boats that swam through it, jittery first years taking in the sights of Hogwarts for the first time in their lives. Atlas stopped at this and so did Dumbledore, the two of them watching as fresh blood decorated the docks of the lake. Their young voices carried across the water, through the night, excited, nervous, simply raw. And Atlas silently cursed the days that would come and snatch that innocence from beneath them.

“You wish to protect them.” Dumbledore voiced this as a statement, his pale blue eyes remaining on the fading backs of the first years, Atlas did the same, remaining silent. “Or rather…you wish to protect them from fate, just as you wish someone would do for you.”

“You’re raising an army of children.”

“I simply seek to teach them to protect themselves and others…should the need arise,” Dumbledore spoke quite calmly and Atlas scoffed, scowling into the lake.

“The need will arise, as you said…it’s fate.”

“This war will be bigger than this school, Atlas,” Dumbledore said wisely, his hands now clasped behind his back as Atlas turned to look at him. “Though Voldemort’s target might live within the castle’s walls, he will also declare war on the British Ministry of Magic and once he has conquered that he will seek the other Ministries of the world.”

“Still, do you need to enlist children?”

“The only child I have enlisted, is you,” Dumbledore turned to her now, reaching forward to place a hand on her shoulder, “and I have told you Atlas…I do not wish for the student body to become my army, I’m merely giving them the means to defend themselves because war does not discriminate. I would have thought you’d learnt that by now.”

“Cedric…” Atlas muttered and Dumbledore nodded.

“And Amaya…James and Lily, war does not care if you are a mother or a father, an infinitely kind brother. It takes…it does not give chances nor mercy,” Dumbledore continued and then he frowned, deeply, moving his hand to Atlas’s cheek in some sort of reassurance and Atlas, to her surprise, felt comforted, she felt secure, “that is a lesson you have learnt at an age far too young…the same can be said for Harry and even Mr Longbottom. You share my sentiment and want to protect those young minds.”

“Is that why you want me in the Order?”

“The sacrifice of one or two young minds is worth the lives of many, don’t you agree?” Dumbledore said, as if it was the simplest thing to fall from his tongue, Atlas regarded him a moment and then laughed, swiping his hand from her cheek with a crushed sort of look in her eye.

“Right…so what is it you wanted me to do, Headmaster?”

“Should an event in which Harry incurs the wrath of our new professor come to pass, I wish for you to protect him, in any way possible,” Dumbledore said, “and knowing Harry, this is inevitable.”

“Who’s our new professor?”

“Well, we have two, in fact, though you already know Professor Grubbly-Plank, she’ll be taking up her previous post last year as Care of Magical Creatures professor,” he seemed to be dodging the question, something Dumbledore usually did but with more subtlety. Still, it worked in a way as Atlas was now concerned as to where Hagrid was.

“Where’s Hagrid?”

“He’s on a mission for the Order, I’ve sent him to recruit the giants before Voldemort does the same,” he told and Atlas nodded, furrowing her brows. “I ask you tell this to nobody.”

“Right, yeah…and who is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.”

“…Dolores Umbridge.”

“What?” Atlas’s stomach plummeted, her face dropping. “No…you’re barking, that — that hag?”

“The Ministry seems to think we, at Hogwarts, need all the help we can get. So, they saw fit to kindly send us our new professor. Nobody would consent to accept the post, you see,” Dumbledore explained.

“She’ll target me, you already know that right? She hates me after I got off from that trial. She and Lucius were the worst when it came to the support of my imprisonment! She’s the one that suggested I be branded! She would have had me kissed by the Dementors if she’d gotten her absolute way!”

“I am well aware of that, Atlas. I was there,” Dumbledore replied and Atlas stopped, her arms dropping to her sides. “But her placement here is indisputable and you are the only one I trust enough to save Harry from endangering himself in my absence.”

“I’d protect Harry regardless of if you’d asked but where are you going? You can’t leave when Umbridge is around, she’ll take over!”

“What will be, will be, Atlas.” He continued forward, brushing down his gown as he crossed the bridge and climbed the stairs to the rear door of the Great Hall. Atlas took a moment to gather herself, rubbing at her chest, over her heart to soothe the ache that thrummed deep within and then she followed, picking twigs off of her jumper, trying to make herself look some sort of presentable.

Chatter rang out through the walls as Atlas grew nearer, the girl eyeing the candles through the high windows and sighing at the laughter, her shoulders heavy and hung low. Dumbledore entered ahead while Atlas stared up at the cloudy sky, counting the few stars she could see through the mist, then, with another deep breath, she entered, the warmth immediately seeping into her skin and embracing her bones.

“I apologies for my absence, everyone,” Dumbledore’s voice rang out while Minerva stood and approached Atlas, smiling as she pulled the girl into a brief hug, kissing her temple and muttering her greetings. Atlas appreciated the comfort and bowed her head in greeting to the rest of the staff table before descending the stairs, her eye-catching that of Dolores Umbridge. They shared a momentary lapse of eye contact, words hidden behind them while their faces displayed a polite notice, smiles so fake even a blind man would flinch.

Gryffindor table welcomed her quietly as she walked down the row, eyes fixed on her as she sat beside Hermione, the girl, alongside Harry, Ron and Ginny looking at her quizzically. She ignored them, staring at the middle of the table where a few crumbs littered the old wood. She’d missed dinner.

“Where have you been?” Ginny asked.

“With Dumbledore, he wanted to talk.”

“About what?” Harry asked. Atlas looked up at him, her gaze drifting up and over to Dumbledore, the man speaking of all the rules like a broken record, the first years all giving him their most undivided attention. She blocked him out, there was nothing new in his announcements. “About what, Atlas?”

“None of your concern, boy-wonder,” Atlas muttered and placed her hands on the table, pressing into her knuckles, her palms, overall examining their conditions if only to give her something to do, to distract her from Harry’s confused stare, the looks exchanged between Ron and Ginny and the worried eyes burning into the side of her face, of course, belonging to Hermione Granger.

Though, mere seconds later, Atlas’s entire body froze up, her nostril’s flaring at the quiet ‘hem, hem‘ that echoed throughout the hall, that rush of livid and sure hatred bursting through Atlas like a violent and thorny weed. The loathing and absolute dislike she had for the pink-clad woman indescribable, from her holy than thou attitude, the pitchiness of her voice to her abysmal fashion sense, Atlas did not think she could hate anyone quite like she hated Voldemort and Achlys but Dolores Umbridge, she was up there, way up there.

“She was at my hearing,” Harry supplied and Atlas turned to him, brows furrowed. “She works for Fudge.”

“I’m surprised you got let off then,” Atlas said, picking up a fork and twirling it between his fingers. “At my trial, she wouldn’t settle for anything less than imprisonment,” she placed the cutlery back upon the table, glaring over at the woman. “If you don’t count the public branding…”

“She wanted to brand you?” Harry asked and Atlas nodded.

“As what? A trouble maker?” Ron continued. “She wanted to ruin your image in the Daily Prophet or something? What’s the point, you were a kid?”

“She means being scarred Ron,” Hermione said, looking at Atlas again and Atlas stared back, “being branded publicly means to be burnt with a hot iron in front of an audience. Which…doesn’t make sense because only a handful of laws that haven’t been revised in recent years still call for such medieval punishments. And…well, I remember all of them and none of them seem like things Atlas would have done…or rather been able to do…”

“Wait, Atlas was put on trial?” Ginny spoke, looking between everyone in confusion. Hermione was staring at the side of Atlas’s face, the girl now looking at Harry, the boy gazing back, slightly panicked. “When?”

“When she was twelve,” Ron supplied, “Atlas never told us the crime.”

“Harry seems to know,” Ginny pointed out and both Ron and Hermione turned to the boy, finding that he had bowed his head to the table, the old wood suddenly quite fascinating. Another, higher, ‘hem, hem‘ cut through the chatter and the five shifted to watch Umbridge, all now with obvious dislike.

“Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!” She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. “And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!”

Nobody was smiling, everyone, in fact, looked quite bored.

“I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I’m sure we’ll be very good friends!” 

Everyone exchanged looks at this, conversing with their eyes as a few made some quiet comments at the woman choice of words. Umbridge cleared her throat again and when she spoke, she sounded the same as she had done those years ago, when Atlas was small, sat in a chair several sizes too large, with a muzzle around her head. It made Atlas’s hands curl into white-hot fists.

“The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.”

Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Minerva’s dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Atlas distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little ‘hem, hem‘ and went on with her speech.

“Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…”

Nobody was listening, and the few that were did not seem to agree with a word the old bat said. Atlas was flickering in and out of consciousness, her eyes still open but her mind elsewhere, drifting back to her days in confinement, in Azkaban, alone and scared, young, frightened. She hadn’t understood the weight of what she had done. It had been a very long time since she had reflected on her time behind those high bars, listening to the soft whimpers and the cursed screams of the other criminals surrounding her. Not even seeing Lucius again had ignited such memories.

But, Umbridge was different, because though Lucius had her charged and sent to Azkaban for holding, he had at least been outright with his hatred for her, Umbridge, on the other hand, acted innocent, painted Atlas as a vicious criminal rather than the child she was and held herself on a pedestal so high, it was as if she could do no wrong and would smile and wave at any person she put behind bars as if she had not ruined their life.

“…because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.”

She sat down, Dumbledore clapped and a few in the hall soon followed but it was curt, it was simply out of being polite. Then, Dumbledore had stood up again, walking to the front to relay the rest of his announcements.

“Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,” he said, bowing to her. “Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…”

“Yes, it certainly was illuminating,” Hermione said in a low voice and Atlas startled from her daze, gripping the table suddenly.

“You’re not telling me you enjoyed it?” Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. “That was about the dullest speech I’ve ever heard, and I grew up with Percy.”

“I said illuminating, not enjoyable,” Hermione hissed, “it explained a lot.”

“Did it?” Harry said in surprise. “Sounded like a load of waffle to me.”

“There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle,” Hermione said grimly.

“Was there?” Ron said blankly.

“How about: ‘progress for progress’s sake must be discouraged’? How about: ‘pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited’?”

“Well, what does that mean?” Ginny asked and a great clattering erupted throughout the hall, everyone standing up ready to leave the Hall. Atlas stood up with them, looking at her friends with a sullen and pale face.

“Mi is trying to say that it means the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts,” she offered when Hermione sighed at her friends’ poor deduction skills. Atlas merely frowned and picked up her cloak. “You should mind yourselves…Umbridge won’t let you off easy, stay out of her way.”

“Oh!” Hermione jumped up, looking flustered, “Ron, we’re supposed to show the first-years where to go!”

“Oh yeah,” said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. “Hey — hey, you lot! Midgets!”

“Ron!”

“Well, they are, they’re titchy…”

“I know, but you can’t call them midgets! — First-years!” Hermione called commandingly along the table, a note in her voice that kept the call kind and comforting. She continued with a smile, her hand in the air. “This way, please! — I’ll see you later, Atty!”

“See you…” Atlas waved half-heartedly, watching as Hermione hurried off with Ron, grinning and greeting the new Gryffindor first years. It made her smile a little. Hermione would be a good prefect. The crowd pushed her, Harry and Ginny along not a moment later and Ginny dismissed herself to go after some of her fourth-year friends. This left Harry and Atlas together, the two of them quiet as they exchanged small smiles and carried on to their common room.

And while Atlas ignored the fearful stares and whispers, she noticed Harry couldn’t do the same, his expression growing surlier and surlier so she adopted a scowl and glared at anyone who had the nerve to whisper so blatantly to their faces. It was effective and Harry seemed to relax a little, Atlas standing over him, a hand on his shoulder as they walked down the empty corridor to the Gryffindor common room.

“Hello, Lady,” Atlas greeted with a tired smile, “did you have a good summer?”

“Atlas, my dear. Yes, I had a wonderful summer, many, many parties called for my voice!” She sang. “And you, my girl? Did you have a good summer?”

“Er — yeah…it was great,” Atlas nodded.

“Good, good! Oh yes, I suppose you want to go inside?” Atlas nodded again and the Lady swung forward, allowing the two entrance without any fuss. They were lucky for it is as well, as neither of them actually knew the password. Atlas would have to ask Hermione later.

Harry walked inside first and Atlas followed, yawning quietly to herself and looking up only when she had almost bumped into Harry, the boy stopped in the middle of the common room, the eyes of their housemates all set upon them, tense silence hanging in the air. Atlas straightened immediately, defensive like, as Moody had taught her, she didn’t expect any sort of physical fight but it did well to hold yourself in a way that conveyed you were not to be messed with. Even if the metaphorical attackers were faces she considered friends.

“Dean? Seamus? Good holiday?” Harry asked and Atlas could hear the shakiness to his voice. He was uncertain and so was Atlas, the girl glancing to her Quidditch team. Angelina and Katie offered her small smiles before they turned back to whatever they had been doing while Fred and George simply smiled openly. Though, of course, that was to be expected, they knew about everything that had gone on and had been declaring how indebted they were to her and Harry after their investments.

“Alright…better than Seamus’s anyway,” Dean nodded, looking hesitant. The boy in question stood, dropping his copy of the Daily Prophet to the table and approaching Harry. Atlas eyed him critically.

“Me mam didn’t want me coming back this year,” he said, the dull song of the radio filling the silence between his sentences because not even the onlookers made a sound, not a whisper between them, only looks, stifling and secret looks.

“Why not?” Harry continued, though his voice sounded thicker as if he already knew the answer.

Seamus took in a breath, “well, let me see, er — because of you two,” he said and Atlas glared at him. “The Daily Prophet’s been saying a lot of things about you and Atlas, Harry…and about Dumbledore as well.”

“What and your mum believes them?” Harry said, his voice rising.

“Well, nobody was there the night Cedric died,” Seamus pressed and Atlas’s jaw tensed, her knuckles cracking from how she clenched them, the air grew higher in its tensity and anybody who was not Seamus could see Atlas’s temper was rising just as tall. “If you could just tell us what did happen that night –“

“What are you asking me for?” Harry retorted, his own anger spiking now. “Just read the Prophet like your stupid mother, why don’t you? That’ll tell you all you need to know.”

“Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that!”

“I’ll have a go at anyone that calls me an Atlas liar’s!” Harry shouted.

“Don’t talk to me like that!”

“I’ll talk to you how I want!” Harry was advancing now but Atlas stopped him, her arm out and thudding lightly against this chest when he pressed into it. The portrait opened and a flourish of first years came stumbling inside, bright-eyed and wonderous as they gazed around the common room. They seemed to stop though when they happened upon the scene in the middle, Ron and Hermione pushing to the front to analyze the scene. Seamus and Harry remained to stare at each other while Atlas turned her gaze to the floor.

“Er — boys dormitories are to the left and the girls to the right!” Hermione called, turning to the first years apprehensively. “Run along and unpack, get a goodnight’s sleep and er — welcome to Gryffindor!”

They all hurried off to the respective rooms for the night, the rest of the older students still silent until the last few stragglers had left, leaving Hermione and Ron in the middle of the common room, stood beside Harry and Atlas.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked, looking between Harry and Seamus, obviously surprised to see them fighting.

“He’s having a go at my mother!” Seamus yelled.

“What?” Ron said, “Harry wouldn’t do that — we met your mother, we liked her…”

“That’s before she started believing every word the stinking Daily Prophet writes about me and Atlas!” Harry cried at the top of his lungs, moving forward again but like before, Atlas stopped him.

“Oh,” Ron said, comprehension dawning across his freckled face. “Oh…right.”

“You believe all the rubbish he’s come out with about You-Know-Who, about Cedric being killed by him, do you, you reckon he’s telling the truth?”

“Yeah, I do!” Ron shouted angrily.

“Mad, you’re mad you are. What about you then, Hermione. You’ve got to have enough sense in you, you don’t believe them do you?!” Seamus said, appealing to Hermione who was standing, staring at him in shock, she was startled at the sudden attention, reeling at his words.

“Of course, I believe them,” Hermione defended, looking as if the mere thought of not believing Harry and Atlas was a real offence.

“Then you’re mad, too,” Seamus said in disgust. “Just because you want to stick up for your girlfriend — !”

This time it was not Harry who advanced forward but Atlas, a fury in her eye that was simply ablaze, moving with such speed Seamus had not noticed until he was pinned against the wall, feet dangling and shirt bundled in Atlas’s hands as she pressed him against the surface, with such might the wind was knocked from his lungs.

“Atlas!” Hermione shouted.

“Let him go, Atlas!” Dean said, moving forward and placing a pleading hand on her shoulder. “Please, he’s just frustrated, he’s not thinking straight…”

“Finnigan should watch his dirty little mouth,” Atlas spoke, for the first time to the common room since arriving, and many seemed to flinch at the anger of her words. “And he should especially keep it shut when he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about!”

She dropped him, stepping back a few feet as Seamus gathered himself, rubbing at where his tie had moved to sit snug against his throat. Dean went to help him up but Seamus batted him away, scowling at Atlas.

“You’re mad,” he gasped his eyes flickering from Ron and Hermione, “believing them…you’re mental.”

“Yeah? Well, unfortunately for you, pal, me and Hermione are also prefects!” Ron shouted, jabbing himself in the chest with a finger. “So unless you want detention, you should do as Atlas says and watch your mouth!”

It looked, for a moment, as though Seamus was moving to argue but thought against it last minute, instead, muttering something under his breath before storming upstairs and presumably, to his dorm room, leaving the commons in stunned silence, Atlas heaving with rage that not even Hermione’s soft words seemed to tame.

“Anyone else got a problem with Harry and Atlas?” Ron snapped aggressively.

“My parents are Muggles, mate,” Dean said, shrugging, “They don’t know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I’m not stupid enough to tell them.”

“My gran says the Prophet is rubbish,” Neville piped up, standing from his chair in the corner of the room as he nodded to Atlas in a way he obviously hoped was reassuring, Atlas glanced back and nodded as well, taking in a shaky breath and swallowing through the lump in her throat. “She says it’s the Daily Prophet that’s going downhill, not Dumbledore. She’s cancelled our subscription. We believe Harry and Atlas. My grans always said You-Know-Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore says he’s back, he’s back.”

“Thanks…Neve,” Atlas said, much softer than she had previously spoken before, she turned and butted her fist against Harry’s shoulder, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah…see you,” Harry murmured and Atlas continued forward, jogging up the stairs to her dorm and leaving the rest of the common room in stunned and contemplative silence, Hermione hurrying to keep up with her. When she’d reached the top, Atlas practically knocked the door from its hinges, bursting inside and collapsing onto her bed, hands covering her eyes.

“You ok, Atty?”

“What?” Atlas peeked over at Hermione, finding the girl carefully closing the door shut, “Oh, yeah — yeah, I’m ok. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For what Seamus said, I guess…being branded as my apparent girlfriend with everything going on is going to be hell for you, so…I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Hermione walked over to Atlas, sitting down beside her and taking her hands up in hers, “that…”

“Yeah.”

“Atlas…” Hermione glanced to their hands, Atlas doing the same with a question in her eye, “concerning that, I — I actually need to tell you something –“

A knock and a voice, two actually. “Atlas, Hermione?” It was Katie.

“Can we come in?” And Angelina.

“Uh…” Atlas glanced to Hermione, finding that she had stood, removed her hands from around Atlas’s and made for her own bed. “Yeah…yeah, you can come in.”

The door clicked open, the two figures shuffling inside awkwardly. Atlas sat a little straighter, looking over at them curiously, eyeing their movements, the quiver of their brows, the uncertainty in their steps, the soft sort of guilt in their eyes. Perhaps it had something to do with the events that had just transpired, the argument and the quiet of the common room. No one had come to neither Atlas nor Harry’s aide until Hermione and Ron had stepped to the scene.

“So…well, Atlas we –“

“We believe you,” Katie blurted and Atlas’s brows shot up, her lips parting slightly. Even Hermione had turned away from her trunk to look over at them, eyes shining with some sort of appreciation. “I mean…of course we do, you wouldn’t lie about that. Everyone’s just scared, we think…too afraid to accept the truth.”

“We’re really sorry for not saying anything…we know it makes us just as bad as Seamus by being silent…” Angelina added, “but, I don’t know, we’re scared as well, me and Katie didn’t want to believe it either but seeing how you reacted…it sort of knocked us to our senses.”

“I…thanks guys,” Atlas smiled, swallowing solidly, “it means a lot…really, it does.”

“Don’t thank us for having your back, Atlas, we’re teammates, yeah? Family,” Katie grinned and then flung her thumb over her shoulder, pointing at Angelina, “Angie is team captain, so we’ll definitely be seeing you on the team.”

“Should still look for reserves though,” Atlas pointed out and Angela huffed, putting a hand on her hip.

“Don’t need to tell me twice, Ace, I’ve got it covered,” she winked and then turned for the door, “we should get going, we just…wanted to let you know, you have our support.”

“And Hermione,” Katie smirked, holding a thumbs up to the girl, “way to stick up for your girl.”

“Ok, out,” Atlas sighed, standing up and going over to the door, Angelina laughed and quickly retreated, Katie however, waited until Atlas was close enough and then, pulled her into a strong hug, her eyes clenched shut and lips pulled into a tight line.

“Sorry, Atlas…for everything that’s happened, it’s been hard, hasn’t it?”

“…yeah,” Atlas agreed and hugged back briefly before shoving Katie out of the door, an eyebrow raised with the corner of her mouth. “Now get lost, Bell.”

“Perhaps in those eyes of yours, Black!”

“I’ll be telling Leanne you said that,” Atlas smiled, leaning out of the doorway to watch as her teammates disappeared.

“She’d agree with me!”

They vanished around the corner and Atlas’s smile faded, she pushed herself from the doorframe and shut the door, moving over to her bed silently and laying upon it, still wearing her too-small uniform upon her too-tight chest, she rubbed at her heart and sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m glad they believe you,” Hermione piped up.

“Yeah…me too,” Atlas murmured and frowned slightly, rubbing at her eyes. “What did you want to tell me, Mi?”

“Oh, I…” Hermione hesitated and Atlas could feel the girls eyes on her, boring into the side of her face, contemplative, scared, unsure. “It doesn’t matter…”

“Of course it does,” Atlas whispered and turned onto her front, arms under her cold pillow, face pressed into the fabric as the taut muscles of her back and shoulders strained against her uniform. “But if you don’t want to talk about it right now…we can talk about it another time, hmm?”

“Yeah, ok.”

“Alright then…night Mi.”

“Sweet dreams, Atlas.”