Chapter 88

It was dark, cold and wet, Atlas’s knees an angry red, her face a contortion of rage and fear. The trees rustled violently, the sky a boundless ocean of black with pale stars spattered across its canvas. Figures circled her, enclosed her, watched her, whispered, laughed as she panted, heaved, sweat cascading down the side of her face as her eyes frantically flitted from cloak to cloak, headstone to headstone, brother to brother. Brother to brother. Both bound, both scared, both faces taunting her vision, fading in and out. In and out. 

Until it was just one, the air going still, the trees retreating, slinking into the dark, roots whipping at the ground, desperate to get away, the stars faded, the sky’s eyes closing their lids so it donned the look of an endless void, the figures vanished in clouds of darkened smoke and their endless laughter came to a close. It was just Atlas and her brother. Atlas and her brother and him — them. The Snake and The Monster.

Just them, their nonsensical negotiation and the boundless sky.

If you join me, Astraea, I will let your brother live.

Who is Astraea? Astraea. Astraea. Astraea. She agreed, Astraea — Atlas agreed through the screams, she nodded, the grass thrumming, the air buzzing again, the cloaks returned and the trees rewound. They came back, everything came back, the sky watched her again, stars unblinking, not twinkling. Yes…yes, the brother would be ok, he would be ok now. So, why did he smile? In a soft sort of defeat. A smile that signified a breath of relief.

Everything sped up now, too fast, too fast, The Snake coiled back on its word, it lied, it deceived and it bore its fangs and now he was bleeding – the brother – too much, from his eyes, his mouth, his ears, his nose, his —

Avada Kedavra!

The Snake said these words in its old tongue and somebody, somewhere, screamed, they screamed and they screamed. It made Atlas’s ears ring, white smoke pouring from her lobes in lakes and then there were more screams, horrifying screams that echoed all around, coming from the dirt, the stone, the very gravel beneath her knees but never The Monster and never The Snake. But she could not bring herself to care, her arm was held out, straight in front of her reaching, reaching and reaching as her fingers grew dull around that ring, his ring, that grey hue invading the whole of her hand, snaking up her arm, to her shoulder, higher and higher. Higher and higher.

And his face appeared, the father, not hers but his, her brother’s father and he was large, he was standing over her, face contorted, it was not human, it couldn’t have been, yet it remained uncanny and Atlas was suddenly scared, so very scared.

Monster! — Because of you! — My boy! — Monster! 

No.

“Atlas!”

No, no, no.

“Atlas, wake up!”

It wasn’t her fault.

“Atlas!”

“No!” Atlas jolted forward, her hands tangled in her sheets, hair stuck to the sides of her face, chest heaving, shirt sweaty and eyes stinging with salted tears. She gasped for breath, swimming up from her pool of despair as she often did in the mornings, her routine, a routine she had liked to keep private. A lonesome ritual she hated to partake in.

But it was no longer a private thing because there were two large brown eyes staring into hers, worried, distressed and tender. They had witnessed the whole thing, Hermione had seen her fighting her sheets, clutching her pillow, crying, screaming for people who were long gone. Dead and gone.

“Atlas –“

“Shouldn’t — shouldn’t you be at breakfast?” Atlas snapped, it was harsh, cold and Hermione flinched.

“I — I couldn’t very well have left you alone, could I?”

“Yes…” Atlas replied instantly, taking in a steadying breath. “Yes you could have and you will.”

“What?”

“Go to breakfast, Hermione.”

“I’m — I’m not going to leave you. Not like this,” Hermione refuted, her voice firm.

“Hermione, please,” Atlas wavered, her wish pleading.

“I can’t.”

“Mi…”

“Atlas — Atty, I –“

“I don’t want you to see me like this, ok!?” Atlas shouted, desperate now. “So can you just fucking go away! Please…”

Hermione relented, frowning as she stared upon Atlas’s dishevelled and hunch form, “Ok, Atlas, I –” she closed her mouth so her lips were clamped shut, tight, contemplative, “Ok…I’ll leave you alone…I’ll — I’ll tell whoever our first Professor is that you’re ill, so…don’t feel like you need to come to class if you’re not up for it, I –“

“Hermione!”

Hermione stopped, nodded hesitantly and turned for the door, her hand halting around the handle as she cast a quick glance over her shoulder to look at Atlas. She watched silently, eyebrows furrowed as the girl stood, undressing rapidly from her sweaty clothes, soaked from that night’s terror and then she left, mutely, her head down and lips curled into a tight frown.

Left alone inside, Atlas paced, now stood in just her undergarments, head tipped to the ceiling, sweat falling down her face, stroking the bump of her throat so that the light streams trickled down into the crook of her neck. She let out a breath, and then several more, opening her reddened eyes and rubbing at the blackened circles beneath them, the light green of her terror flashing over her golden eyes.

Then, she fell to her bed, sitting, hunched over, with her face in her hands, the rough callouses catching on her ridged scars and that cold ring burning her cheek. She stayed like this for hours, still, frozen, the sweat growing dry over time, her hair slicked back from how many times she had run her hands carelessly through it, a few loose strands tickling the sides of her face. All that time her eyes had remained closed, she’d sat in a state of solitude, dealing, processing, too afraid to leave her room, to show her tear-stained face, to listen to those whispers and feel those eyes. Because she knew she would crack just that bit more.

Hours more passed by until a few soft knocks rapped again the door, tentative and gentle as to not disturb the stillness inside, nevertheless, it startled Atlas from her state, jolting her slightly, her first inch of movement in a while. She hadn’t even gotten up to let Kalo and Little Robin out for their morning fly, that was apparent by the way they had settled on the windowsill, all puffed up and silently waiting.

“I’m fine, Hermione.”

The door creaked open, a wisened voice following, “well that is a blatant lie and unfortunately, I am not Miss Granger.”

Atlas looked up, her neck cramping and her arms aching but she paid her pain no mind and instead stared over at the woman, that face she had often welcomed home in her younger years staring back at her. “Minnie…shouldn’t you be teaching?”

“Shouldn’t you be learning? I have brought you your new uniform and timetable,” Minerva’s eyes swept over her, worry pinching her brows as she glided into the room, opening the window so that both Atlas’s owl and his little robin friend flew out into the cool late summer’s afternoon breeze. Then she placed the clean pile of clothes on the girls dresser, patting them lightly. “Miss Granger told me that I might find it in my best interest to come and visit you, she was quite adamant about it actually, troubled of course, with a waver to her voice…”

“Hermione needs to stop worrying all of the time,” Atlas snapped, her voice raspy from idleness.

“I think she’ll find that hard to do when she cares so much about you,” Minerva said and then sat beside Atlas, the bed sinking at her weight and the heat of her form warming Atlas’s. “It’s hard to just ignore when the ones we love are in so much pain.”

“I’m not –“

“Don’t lie to me, Atlas,” Minerva reprimanded quite quickly, her tone sharp as Atlas’s mouth clamped shut, “if you were not in pain you would not be in such a state. You are grieving Atlas and though at times it is vital you do it alone, it is just as vital, you have a shoulder to lean on.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Yet you are here, alone.”

“Did you not just say being alone is vital as well?”

“You had the whole summer to be alone, now is the time to lean on somebody,” Minerva said and then turned Atlas’s face to meet hers, golden eyes latching on to her old green, “you feel as if you bear the burden of the skies, Atlas and the irony of your name is not lost to me but you are not the Titan from that tale, you are human and you must grieve, mourn and relieve yourself of your emotions just as any other person would do.”

“I…I miss him, Minnie,” Atlas relented, just a fraction, her voice breaking as she bent down, rummaging through her discarded trouser pockets so that her fingertips fell upon folded paper, she pulled the photo from the confines of her dirty uniform, handing it to Minerva. “Every time I look at a photo of him…all I can see is his face, in the graveyard.”

“And…why do you think that is?” Minerva asked quietly, fingers tracing her old students face, a look of mourning across her own visage that Atlas didn’t miss.

“It’s the last time I saw him alive…of course, it’d be all I see when I close my eyes,” Atlas whispered, looking into her palms, ghosting her fingertips across her cold onyx ring.

“Yes but as Bella so wisely says,” Minerva had flipped the photo, eyes scanning the back of it, “‘this is how you should remember him’.”

Atlas hadn’t seen the writing on the back, only the writing in the accompanying note. Minerva handed the photo back, smiling sadly, her face illuminated in the soft sun and it was only now that Atlas realised how tired her old lady was, withered and worn, still firm and stubborn of course, Minerva would never drop her stoic facade, not ever, even now, in such a tender moment, she still had a sharpness to her eye. Still, Atlas could not help the tears that formed in her eyes and the sudden movement she made, wrapping her arms and binding them around Minerva’s figure, holding tightly, fiercely.

“I don’t want to forget him, Minnie…” She breathed.

“So don’t…live on in his memory, remember him fondly and…let go,” Minerva said quietly, holding just as tight.

“But…you don’t understand, the memories I have of him are all so corrupted by the graveyard…I can’t live on with those memories because they’re all blighted so I want to forget them but I don’t want to forget him…” she whispered and buried her face further into Minerva’s shoulder, “so, please, what do I do?”

“I…I don’t know, Atlas — I don’t know,” Minerva muttered, “I’m sorry I can’t help you, my dear. I’m sorry.”

Atlas squeezed a second and then let go, stumbling upright, her eyes anywhere but Minerva, “I — I need to shower and get to class…thank you, for coming to see me.”

“…of course, sweetheart and you know…Poppy will prescribe you a few vials of Dreamless Sleep if you asked,” Minerva said gently, standing as well while Atlas sniffled and rubbed her arm across her face, “or I can get them for you discretely, it’s up to you.”

“They don’t work anymore…”

“Then some Draught of Peace?” Minerva continued.

“Yeah…alright,” Atlas nodded.

“That will do then,” Minerva said, brushing down her dress and approaching Atlas to give her one last brief hug, a kiss planted firmly on her forehead before the lady bid her farewells, opening the door carefully. “Go easy, my dear. I’m…sorry I couldn’t help.”

“It’s fine…I think — I think you being here was enough this time.”

“I’m glad…and Atlas?”

“Yes, Minnie?”

“Do talk to Hermione, I know you don’t wish to let her see you in the aftermath of your terrors but…” Minerva smiled, “she’s good for you and I think you’ll find her mere presence is just as soothing as mine, if not more once you look past your fear of being seen so afraid by someone you only wish would see you at your best.”

Silence, Atlas did not respond, her face a mask and motionless picture, Minerva merely nodded in understanding and left for her next lesson, the soft click of the door a signal for Atlas to grab her new uniform and leave with a towel over her shoulder. The tower was empty at this time of day, everyone was in lesson, not even the seventh years were free from their dreaded classes, so that allowed Atlas the discretion to use the shower for as long as she liked, well, just until her current class ended.

Atlas hadn’t even checked her timetable yet and in honesty, she was too exhausted to care. Even stepping into the shower she grimaced, her body aching from the tension of her muscles, all seized up and stiff, the hot water padded against her skin washing the stale sweat from her body, she closed her eyes and leant forward, hands against the wall while the warm rain spattered against her back leaving her to think on all the things Minerva had said, her mind stopping on the last of her few sentences. Hermione. She frowned, shaking her head when the image of the girl, looking worried and tentative, flashed over her eyes. She stayed under the water until it ran cold and then turned the tap with a soft creak, stepping out to walk over to her pile of her clothes, sat ready and waiting.

By the time she was ready, the bell had already rung and gone, a few odd stragglers quickly walking or running to their next lessons but Atlas didn’t bother, she was done for anyway, her next lesson was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a lesson she so desperately abhorred considering who her new professor was — Umbridge. She sighed, pulling out her new materials, hoping to get some sort of understanding of the lesson she would be walking in on and it was just as she expected. Useless, beginners spell she had learnt by the time she could ride a broom, magical theory she had been taught even before she had manifested her magic. The Ministry wasn’t just interfering at Hogwarts, they were completely rewriting the curriculum, giving them the inability to defend themselves. Atlas didn’t like Dumbledore but he was right about one thing for sure, they needed to learn how to defend themselves.

But Atlas wouldn’t say anything because Atlas would not go against Umbridge. Not again. She would just quietly despise her from a corner, it’s the only way she and her friends would be able to get through the year unharmed.

A thud against her shoulder and her book fell from her grasp, clattering to the floor and clapping shut, Atlas frowned, hit with a sudden sense of deja vu from her first year at Hogwarts, as she bent down, reaching out to grab the heavy tome but, like that year before, a shoe pressed down against the cover, green socks trailing up long legs so they stopped at pale knees. Atlas looked up at Daphne Greengrass, turning then to Tracy on her other side and Pansy who had begun circling her like a predator after prey.

“Pansy, I don’t have time for this,” Atlas said, standing and looking at the girl by her side, she grinned up at her, hands at each of her arms.

“Why so tense, Black?” she dug her fingers into the firm muscle of Atlas’s shoulders, massaging them lightly, “you’re feeling rigid, you should loosen up a little bit.”

“Pansy,” Atlas muttered lowly, shrugging her hands away with a warning glare. “I have to get to class, I thought you would have learnt your lesson last year when I knocked your fucking teeth out.”

“She’s violent today,” Tracy giggled, “come on Pansy, let’s leave her be, Umbridge will do her in if we don’t.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Pansy smiled, holding her hands up and walking a little further down the hall, Tracy hurried after her and Atlas huffed, bending down to pick her book up again, only to find Daphne still hadn’t taken her foot from the cover.

“Give me my book, Daphne,” she sighed and startled when the girl pushed her head back so her eyes were forced to meet hers and that conniving smirk on her face, Atlas grunted quietly at the sudden action, grimacing when the movement pinched at the ache of her nightmare.

“What will you give me? Hmm…oh, I know! How about you show me why they really call you a monster?” She proposed a certain glint in her eye that hinted at a double meaning. But Atlas pulled away from her hand, grabbing her book from underneath Daphne’s heel so that she stumbled backwards, only to be steadied by Atlas bunching up the front of her tie and jumper, holding her steady, still, suspended in the air.

“Not even in your dizziest daydreams, Greengrass,” then she let go, shouldering past her to continue her pursuit of the end of that hall. Atlas heard the girls laughing after her and rubbed at the cramp of her neck, agitation clear across her face as she took the stairs down, two at a time, and slipped past a corridor she heard Peeves patrolling, which actually made her trip a lot longer than she’d anticipated.

Finally, after a few detours, Atlas made it to her class, knocking quickly a few times before stepping inside after she heard the quite high-pitched voice of her professor inviting her within where everyone turned to look up at her, blatant boredom across their faces. They seemed to be reading the absolute drag of a book Atlas had been swiping through on her way there. Umbridge, however, look quite pleased.

“Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge, I apologise for my lateness, Professor McGonagall needed something of me, it won’t happen again,” Atlas rattled off, tipping her head lightly in apology while Umbridge seemed to bloat with satisfaction, that tight-lipped and too-sweet smile on her face.

“Now, everyone, that is what a proper greeting looks like,” she applauded quietly as Atlas looked up again, “however, Atlas, I’d like to inquire in the whereabouts of your tie?”

“Oh…” Atlas muttered softly, looking down at herself and then glancing over to Hermione who stared back, chewing her bottom lip anxiously, “I was in…such a rush to get here after realising I would be late I seem to have neglected to put it on…”

“Very well, put it on the, quickly,” She smiled and Atlas froze a little, looking at the cloth peeking out of her pocket a little desperately. Umbridge knew she couldn’t do her own tie, she had never been able to when she went to her court hearings, Minerva would always have to rush towards her, with a tissue in hand as she shakily tied it for her. “Go on then. Don’t tell me you still don’t know how to tie your own tie Atlas?”

“I — I do,” Atlas coughed, pulling the tie from her pocket and wrapping it around her neck, she swallowed, furrowing her brows, unsure of where to start as she picked up both ends. She could feel everybody staring, could hear their unsaid whispers echoing in her mind. It wasn’t hard, she knew in theory it wasn’t, she’d just never tried to learn after the court hearings ended, it just brought up bad memories. 

Then, suddenly her hands were moving, or rather, her tie was moving her hands still gripped around the fabric and mock guiding the material through until there was a perfect tie wrapped snugly around her neck. She hid her own surprise and glanced over at Hermione, finding the girl with her wand out beneath her desk, a shy smile on her face that had the corners of Atlas’s mouth twitching upwards.

“Very well, please find your seat Atlas, so that we can resume our reading,” Professor Umbridge urged sweetly, looking mildly displeased beneath her fake smile. Atlas nodded and quickly moved to the open seat beside Hermione, tucking her bag under the table and pulling out her book, the cover dusty with dried mud. She blew it off and wiped the remains away with the back of her hand.

“Hey, you…” Hermione quietly whispered and Atlas glanced at her, smiling a little.

“Afternoon, Mi. Have I missed anything?”

“No, though if you got here a few moments later, you would have,” Hermione said and then shot her hand into the air, only sending Atlas a quieting look when the girl had asked what she was doing. It took several agonisingly silent minutes of Hermione’s hand in the air before she got any semblance of a response, everybody had turned to watch the hand as it persisted in the air. Atlas would even look up from her book distractedly a few times to look at Hermione, even when she so desperately just wanted to keep her head down and Umbridge’s attention away from her.

“Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?” Umbridge asked as though she had only just noticed her. Which wasn’t the case considering Atlas had noticed the woman peeking over in her peripheral on a multitude of occasions.

“Not about the chapter, no,” Hermione refuted calmly, glancing to her book once more before looking back at Umbridge, clear dissatisfaction across her face that Umbridge seemed to try and ignore.

“Well, we’re just reading now,” Umbridge said, showing her small pointed teeth that reminded Atlas an awful lot of the Merpeople in the Black Lake. Of course, Atlas would never tell the woman this considering she hated ‘half-breeds’ even though Merpeople weren’t half-breeds but beings within their own species. Umbridge was just too ignorant to learn the difference. “If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class.”

“I’ve got a query about your course aims,” Hermione continued and Atlas frowned, nudging the girls knew with her own. This wouldn’t end well and she didn’t want to see Hermione in detention with Umbridge.

Umbridge’s eyebrows rose, that smile becoming tight and unfriendly when her brows settled. “And your name is?”

“Hermione Granger.”

“Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully,” Umbridge said, motioning to the three bullet points chalked up on the blackboard, aims Atlas hadn’t even read upon entering.

Course Aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

“Well, I don’t,” Hermione said bluntly, not even casting the board a glance. Atlas’s eyes slanted into something worrisome as she silently nudged Hermione under the table again. “There’s nothing written up there about using defensive spells.”

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three-course aims still written on the blackboard but Atlas remained to stare at the side of Hermione’s face, silently pleading for her to be quiet. No one in there really knew what Umbridge was capable of, what she no doubt dreamed of doing to disobedient children such as herself, she was a horrible woman and until they had the power to do something, Atlas knew they would just have to grin and bear it. No matter what she said and Atlas hated that fact.

“Using defensive spells?” Umbridge laughed with an underlying sense of something mocking. “Why, I can’t imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren’t expecting to be attacked during class?”

“We’re not going to use magic?” Ron exclaimed loudly and Atlas dropped her face into her hands, shaking her head.

“Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr — ?”

“Weasley,” Ron almost snapped, his hand thrust into the air. Umbridge turned away at that, some sort of savage triumph on her face when she instead turned to the other two hands in the air, one belonging to Hermione again while the other was attached to Harry, something that had Atlas fighting the urge to drag him out of class. A screaming match between harry and Umbridge was the last thing Atlas needed because she knew she’d have to bring Umbridge’s attention upon herself to uphold her deal with Dumbledore. Her deal with Hogwarts’s devil.

“Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?”

“Yes,” Hermione nodded again, stubborn when it came to things she so passionately advocated for and not even Atlas would deter her from arguing for their education. “Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?”

“Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?” Umbridge asked, in her falsely sweet voice.

“No, but –“

“Well then, I’m afraid you are not qualified to decide what the ‘whole point’ of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –“

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again but Atlas snapped her hand to hers, squeezing it tightly so that Hermione turned her mildly annoyed gaze upon her, only for it to soften when she saw the genuine discomfort and worry upon the girls face. “You’re making it worse…” Atlas whispered.

“What use is that?” Harry shouted loudly and Atlas turned to him, tightening her grip around Hermione’s hand just that bit more. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be in a –“

“Hand, Mr Potter!” Umbridge sang, completely shutting the boy down.

Harry thrust his fist in the air. Again, Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people had their hands up, too. It was just getting worse and worse.

“And your name is?” Umbridge said to Dean.

“Dean Thomas.”

“Well, Mr Thomas?”

“Well, it’s like Harry said, isn’t it?” Dean shrugged, motioning over to the spectacled boy who looked incredibly appreciative. “If we’re going to be attacked, it won’t be risk-free.”

“I repeat,” Umbridge began steadily, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Dean, “do you expect to be attacked during my classes?”

“No, but –“

“I do not wish to criticise the way things have been run in this school,” she said, an unconvincing smile stretching her wide mouth. Atlas shifted in her seat, staring into her desk, eyes running along old grooves and faded graffiti — if only to get her mind off of what might happen if any of them should continue, “but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed–not to mention,” she gave a nasty little laugh, “extremely dangerous half-breeds.”

“If you mean Professor Lupin,” Dean piped up, he sounded angry now and Atlas was touched to see others defending their late professor, even if she was mostly horrified by the events taking place, “he was the best we ever –“

“Hand, Mr Thomas! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day –“

“No we haven’t,” Hermione said, slipping her hand from Atlas’s to gesticulate wildly with her arms “we just –“

“Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!”

Hermione put up her hand. Umbridge turned away from her. Atlas looked at her discarded palm. 

“It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you.”

Atlas stuttered over a breath, Barty Crouch’s maddened laugh rattling throughout her skull.

“Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn’t he?” Dean said hotly. “Mind you, we still learned loads.”

“Your hand is not up, Mr Thomas!” Umbridge said, agitation now clear in the way her words trembled. “Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?” she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

“Parvati Patil, and isn’t there a practical bit in our Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL? Aren’t we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter-curses and things?”

“As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions,” Umbridge dismissed.

“Without ever practising them beforehand?” Parvati guffawed incredulously. “Are you telling us that the first time we’ll get to do the spells will be during our exam?”

“I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough –“

“And what good’s theory going to be in the real world?” Harry said loudly again, his fist in the air again.

“This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world,” she said softly, so softly Atlas had almost not heard over the taunting laughter still plaguing her mind.

“So we’re not supposed to be prepared for what’s waiting for us out there?”

“There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry challenged. His temper was rising, Atlas could tell and she watched on in her horror, conflicted and distracted as the noise grew louder and louder, her promise to Dumbledore weaker and weaker, that littler, younger version of herself still shrinking in that too-large chair, trying to vanish from beneath Umbridge’s gaze telling her to just let him be, to save herself from the confrontation; Then there was that older want, that want she held now to protect him from what she had to go through as a child.

“Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?” Umbridge enquired and here it came, Atlas remaining silent.

“Hmm, let’s think…” Harry said in a mock thoughtful voice. “Maybe…Lord Voldemort?”

Ron gasped, Lavender Brown uttered a little scream, Neville slipped sideways off his stool, Hermione quickly looked to Atlas and Atlas — Atlas simply closed her eyes and sighed softly. Professor Umbridge, however, did not flinch. She was staring at Harry with a grimly satisfied expression on her face.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr Potter.” The classroom was silent and still. Everyone was staring at either Umbridge or Harry. Everyone but Hermione and Atlas, the latter battling her convictions while the other eyed the girl with concern. “Now, let me make a few things quite plain,” she walked down the rows, smiling at everyone, “you have been told that a certain Dark Wizard is at large once again. This is a lie –“

“It’s not a lie!” Harry shouted, “I saw him, I fought him!”

“I repeat, this is a lie.” Umbridge persisted, leaving Harry to stew with his boiling rage. “The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means, come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, ‘Basics for Beginners’.”

Harry suddenly stood, his chair clattering behind him as it fell and Atlas flinched, almost mirroring his act out of fright.

“So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?’ Harry asked, his voice shaking.

There was a collective intake of breath from the class, but no reaction was quite so shocked as Atlas’s, the girl instantly growing pale, her arm spasming beneath the table as she clutched her quill so tight the ink spattered upon her hands, upon her ring and stained her skin. She could feel her heart hammering against her chest, her head pounding, the visions of last nights dream flashing over her glazed eyes.

“Cedric Diggory’s death was a tragic accident –“

“It was murder, Voldemort killed him, you must know this!”

“Enough!” Umbridge snapped, her voice shrill as she yelled, “Detention, Mr Potter. See me later, my office.”

“Atlas!” Harry cried, appealing to his godsister as she sat, the convictions in her head, the visions and the laughter coming to a screeching halt so that all she heard was the echo of Umbridge’s last declaration. Harry had gotten himself detention. The war between her promise to Dumbledore, the want to protect him and the littler version of herself came to an end. “You were there as well, tell her what you saw!”

Umbridge looked at Atlas expectantly, everybody did, after last nights confrontation everybody seemed all too eager to see what Atlas had to say, what Atlas would do to their professor for calling her godbrother a liar. Unfortunately for them, however, Atlas was not one to entertain when it concerned the welfare of her family.

So she stood, arm shaking and knees wobbly, her voice coming out with the same waver, “I apologise, Professor Umbridge, for the disrespect my godbrother has shown this afternoon,” nobody had expected that, not a soul, not even Umbridge seemed to fully comprehend the girl’s words. “This is all my fault entirely and I’ll take any punishment you might’ve given Harry tonight if you’d allow it. You’d be well within your rights to deny my wish and I wouldn’t — I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Atlas –“

“Be quiet, Mr Potter,” Umbridge interrupted quickly and then turned to Atlas, smiling sweetly. “All right, Miss Black, I’ll accept your proposition. Tonight at five o’clock. My office. Though you should know I was to give Potter the entire weeks detention, are you still willing?”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge.”

“Very well. However, if Mr Potter should have another outburst like this in the middle of class, I will hold him solely accountable, you won’t get a chance like this again, so make sure Mr Potter doesn’t have a repeat of today’s disturbance.”

“Yes, of course, Professor Umbridge, thank you, it won’t happen again,” Atlas nodded and then subtly collapsed in her seat, breathing uneven and vision darkening.

“On second thought,” Umbridge began anew and Atlas snapped her gaze upwards, “Miss Black, please could you escort Mr Potter to your head of house? I’d like to take this precaution so that the rest of the lesson shall progress smoothly, come back after classes have ended and sit and wait with me until five o’clock, for your detention.”

“Yes, Professor Umbridge,” Atlas nodded numbly, standing and grabbing her bag to sling over her shoulder. She approached Harry’s desk, eyes avoidant as the boy glared at her, betrayed, hurt and angry and then he stood, barging past her so that she fell into Parvati’s table, her eyes clenched closed to control her nausea.

“Atlas, are you alright?” Parvati asked in a whisper. “That wasn’t like you, why did you — ?” Atlas pushed herself away, waving the girl off as she continued after her godbrother.

The door clasped shut behind them and Atlas watched Harry walk off in the distance, hands in pockets, head down and movements angered. She followed a few meters behind, starting at her feet and watching as they occasionally fumbled over the other, sending another bout of pain to her head, nausea to her stomach. She swallowed, hard, running a hand through her hair as she sighed and smacked into Harry’s back. He had stopped, just a few doors away from Minerva’s office.

“Harry, just –“

“What was that all about?!” Harry hissed, turning on her and scowling as he pressed his finger into her shoulder. “I thought you’d have my back but instead you turn on me and cuddle up to Umbridge!”

“You don’t know anything, Harry…”

“I know you’re a bloody coward! You were all for it yesterday night, shouting at Seamus for calling me a liar and now you’re some obedient dog to Umbridge!?”

Atlas pushed Harry up against the wall, “You don’t know anything and I’m nobody’s fucking dog! You just can’t keep your fucking head down and shut up!”

“How can I keep my head down when everybody is against me!? How can I keep my head down when I’m losing my friends again!? When everybody’s calling me a liar and my own fucking sister won’t stick up for me in class!?” Harry cried, pushing back so that Atlas stumbled, her head pounding again but eyes resolute as she watched a few hot, angry tears fall over Harry’s cheeks. “I thought you, at least, would stick up for me. No doubt. No questions asked because I would do the same for you. But I was clearly wrong.”

“Harry…you don’t know Umbridge –“

“She was there for my trial as well!”

“No, you don’t understand –“

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t understand!”

“Well, you don’t!” Atlas snapped.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on out here!” Atlas turned, looking over at Minerva who had obviously heard the ruckus from within her office, she stared between the god siblings, disturbed and worried by the looks of rage on their faces. “What has gotten into you two? I would have thought you two would have gotten closer this year, after everything that has and will happen.”

“Yeah, well, that was until she stabbed me in the back,” Harry scowled, barging past Atlas so that the girl stumbled again, her eyes fixed on the spot he had been standing and ears tuned to listen as he walked away and into Minerva’s office, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Atlas, deary –“

“You know, he’s right, sure, I stabbed him in the back,” Atlas nodded, blinking rapidly as she sniffled and rubbed across her watering eyes. “But Umbridge would have given him detention and I had to do something. He had an outburst so I apologised for his behaviour and asked if I could do the punishment instead.”

“Why?”

“…I’m part of the Order, now,” Atlas whispered and Minerva recoiled, shaking her head.

“No. Professor Dumbledore and I –“

“Dumbledore has asked me to protect Harry from Umbridge this year by any means necessary,” Atlas told, “And I intend to do that…I’m sure you’re aware you can’t tell Harry any Order business, you’d be going against Dumbledore if you did but I ask you don’t tell him…I think he’d just hate me more…”

“Atlas, you are not to listen to that old fool. You will stop this at once. You are not part of the Order!”

“Look, it’s not like that’s my only reason. I just want to protect him from her. I would have done the same even if Dumbledore hadn’t asked it of me,” Atlas whispered, looking upon her ink-stained palm, “I need to go…I have detention to go to.”

“Atlas,” Atlas turned and threw a wave over her shoulder, walking down the hall with a heaviness to her steps, “Atlas, you come back here right this instant!” She didn’t stop and continued up the stairs, “Atlas!”

The bell rang in the distance, signalling the end of classes.