Welp. It's been a while, hasn't it? Life happened. Anyway. I changed the story title. Also, this chapter is a little choppy and tbh a lot of the pre-Hogwarts chapters will be choppy because I want to get to Hogwarts ASAP. But I feel like I should at least show some growing up for Stasya.
I see y'alls reviews and favs/follows and it makes my day. I might not reply [hello anxiety] but I treasure every review and fav/follow.
Chapter 2: Schoolyard Bullshit
"Nice to meet you," Anastasiya says.
'Why does his name sound familiar? I don't think I knew a Harry,' she thinks.
"Nice to meet you too?" he says uncertainly.
Anastasiya smiles, "It's very loud in here, isn't it?" she comments, filling away his apparent surprise.
Harry nods rapidly. She scans the room as he fidgets beside her, looking like he's wrestling with something.
The walls are a bright yellow, with school posters geared towards the typical five-year-old. There's a shelf of cubbies under the window and the teacher's desk in the front to the left of the chalkboard. The middle of the room has one of those alphabet rugs on the floor. In the back, near the table she's sitting at, are shelves filled with books and crafting supplies. Anastasiya counts around twenty students, including her.
"Why did you sit here?" Harry blurts, his ears turn red in embarrassment.
"Because you're quiet," she says bluntly.
"Oh."
"I don't really like loud noises," she adds quietly.
Harry nods in acknowledgment.
The teacher still hasn't arrived, they should be here, right? Waiting in the room to keep the kids settled? At least she thinks so.
Five minutes later, the teacher arrives at eight forty-five on the dot.
It takes ten minutes for the teacher, Miss Short, to get the class settled. Anastasiya isn't sure if that says bad things about Miss Short or her new class. Miss Short is old. As in, has no business still teaching old; especially to young kids. Miss Short walks to her desk then picks up a clipboard.
"When I call your name, say 'here', so I can mark you off on the roll call," she says.
"Yes, Miss Short," the class murmurs.
Anastasiya taps her fingers lightly on the underside of the table, waiting for Miss Short to get to her.
"Anastasiya Sokolova," Miss Short announces, except Anastasiya was pronounced wrong.
Anastasiya raises her hand, "Here, Miss Short," she continues before the teacher could, "Miss Short my name is pronounced Ana-sta-see-ya," she corrects quietly.
Miss Short frowns at her severely, "Don't correct me, I know how your name is pronounced," she reprimands.
Anastasiya frowns back, not liking her tone; she hasn't had anyone talk down to her in this life and she doesn't like it.
"My name is Ana-sta-see-ya," she protests, stressing the syllables of her name.
Miss Short sighs like it's a chore to get her name right, "Then I'll call you Anna."
When she goes to protest again Miss Short cuts her off, "don't you back talk me, girl. Or it'll be time out."
The class giggles and Anastasiya presses her lips together to stall her objections. She doesn't know what Father will do if she gets in trouble in school, especially on the first day, but she doesn't want to find out.
Harry eyes Anastasiya in concern as Miss Short continues calling roll. Her face has gone flat, her expression freezing in anger. He leans slightly to the side, "You okay?" he murmurs.
She nods shortly.
After Miss Short is done, she gets them to put their bags in a cubby. Harry chooses the one farthest from Dudley; he might not have anything important in there, but he doesn't want to give him a chance to mess with it. Anastasiya chooses the one next to his, then follows him back to their table.
"Alright class, come sit in a circle on the rug so we can learn about each other!"
The class wanders over to the rug, sitting in a loose circle. Miss Short sits on a chair outside the circle.
"Tell us one thing you like and one thing you don't like," she explains, "I like the beach and I don't like frogs."
Miss Short turns to Anastasiya, "Anna, why don't you go next?" she asks, her voice odd. It reminds Harry of how Aunt Petunia talks to him.
"I like ballet and I don't like the cold," she says curtly.
Miss Short nods, "Harry, what about you?"
"I like snakes and I don't like the heat," he answers quietly.
"Very good!" she says, turning to the person next to him.
And on and on it went. One girl admitting to liking vegetables and a boy admitting to hating dogs. Dudley's was 'I like pudding and I hate vegetables!' which didn't surprise Harry.
When that is done they move on to learning the alphabet after that is a break for play. They learn their colours after a break then there is lunch, followed by learning their numbers. Then there's another break, which is followed by reading time.
Anastasiya stays with him the whole time and Harry suspects he made a friend.
"How was your first day of school, Zaika?" Olga asks as she walks her children home.
"The teacher didn't say my name right and when I tried to tell her how it was supposed to be said she told me off and decided to call me Anna," Stasya complains.
"I had a teacher that did that too," Galya grumbles, "she called me Gail and now everyone calls me that."
The sisters trade commiserating looks.
"Your father has the same problem," Olga tells them; they look at her in surprise.
"Really?" Galya asked.
"Yes, Lastachka."
"Oh," she says, before falling silent.
They walk in silence for a while, before Stasya breaks it.
"I think I made a friend," she says abruptly.
"Really?!" Galya asks excitedly, grabbing Stasya's hand.
"Yeah."
Galya cheers loudly, "Tell me about your friend," she demands.
Olga smiles indulgently as she listens to her youngest talk about her new friend, becoming animated and gesticulating wildly the more she talks. She has worried about how Stasya would cope with school, she hasn't socialized much; preferring to be by herself when she's around the children of Kolya's friends. She'll have to find some way to thank Harry for bringing Stasya out of her shell.
It takes a week and a half before Anastasiya decides that she hates Short; she was hoping that the first day was just out of the norm for her, but it wasn't. She's a condescending bitch and she has only gotten worse as the week progressed.
Anastasiya doesn't know what she's doing teaching five-year-olds because it's becoming rapidly apparent that she hates them, talks to them like they don't have a brain. Not only that, but she's also holding a grudge over Anastasiya correcting her. Which is just petty, she just wanted her to get her name right! It's not that hard! And giving her a nickname as if they're close? Rude.
The other kids are calling her Anna now and she's given up on correcting them, they don't listen.
"Anastasiya, can you pass me the green crayon?" Harry asks politely.
Well, Harry is the only one that hasn't; he's noticed that she hates it, so calls her by her name. Anastasiya has decided that he's her new best friend. No take-backs.
A month or so later, the most annoying kid in class corners her and Harry on the playground with his little gang.
"You should stay away from Potter," Dursley warns.
"Why?" Anastasiya questions.
"Because he's a freak!" he reveals; as if that made any kind of sense.
Harry shrinks into himself and Anastasiya narrows her eyes in anger, "What did you just call him?"
"A freak," Dursley repeats slowly as if she's stupid.
Anastasiya balls her fists.
"Do Not. Call Harry. A Freak." she growls.
"What are you gonna do about it?" he taunts, "you're a girl."
Anastasiya weighs her options, then bursts into loud tears. Short hurries over, "Anna, what's wrong?" she asks, sounding as if she couldn't care less.
"D-Dudley keeps calling Harry a freak and won't stop!" she blubbers.
"Dudley, is that true?" she asks.
"Yeah?" he says confused, "I don't know why she's crying when it's true."
Short purses her lips unhappily, "Dudley, you have lines. You'll start them right now and finish them after school."
"What?! Why?!" he yells angrily.
"We don't call people names," she answers curtly, before grabbing him by the arm dragging him away; protesting heavily.
Harry watches bewildered as Dudley gets dragged away, his head swimming. Anastasiya stood up for him? Dudley got in trouble? This can't be real, right? This has to be a dream. Freaks don't have good things happen to them after all.
Harry awkwardly wraps his arms around a crying Anastasiya, "Um, there, there? Please don't cry?" he says desperately; anything to get her to stop crying.
She giggles lightly and peeks at him through her fringe; she grins cheekily.
Harry blinks in shock, "You were faking?!" he whispers quietly.
She nods, "I would have punched him, but he wouldn't have gotten in trouble that way."
He stares at her in astonishment, "What?"
"No one gets away with calling my friend a freak!" she says fiercely, hugging him.
"Oh," he says faintly.
This isn't a dream. This is real. Anastasiya stood up for him and didn't let Dudley scare her off like the other kids in the neighbourhood.
It's at that moment that Harry decides that he has the best friend in the whole world.
Nikolay observes as Anastasiya dances away from Pyotr, a gigantic smile on her face. She blocks the punch Yuriy sends her, grasps his arm and pulls him to her and plants her fist in his face; he collapses and doesn't get up. She plants an elbow in Pyotr's gut, who's charging her from behind, sending him reeling. She goes low; spins and sweeps Pyotr's legs out from under him, uppercuts him in the face when he buckles; he doesn't get up. Her grin doesn't abate once.
Sergey makes a noise of outrage as his son loses again. Stanislav just hums contemplatively.
"Pyotr needs more training," Stanislav says blandly.
"Your daughter is good," Sergey admits begrudgingly.
Nikolay lifts his head in acknowledgment and pushes off the wall he's leaning on, "meeting tomorrow morning."
His subordinates nod.
"Anastasiya, let's go," Nikolay calls out.
She nods and hurries to his side, they leave Sergey's house and make their way home. They walk in silence; his youngest ambling beside him, bouncy as she always is after combat practice.
"Good job today," he says gruffly.
Anastasiya beams, "Thank you, Father."
Sometimes, Anastasiya feels a little guilty that she isn't as passionate about ballet as Mom and Galya are. It's interesting and she loves just watching them dance, but she does it because it's something to do with her mom and sister. Not because it's something she has much interest in.
One of the best things about this life is that she isn't an only child. And having a Mom who actually cares about her. It's something she's grateful for in this second chance and she doesn't want to waste it.
"Alright class, what's 2 + 2?" Short asks, "Vanessa?"
"4!" Vanessa chirps.
"Very good!"
Anastasiya contains a sigh of boredom. She always found school to be boring. And just because she's gotten a second chance doesn't mean that her opinion has changed, especially since the first few years are just the basics. Right now, it's just tedious and she spends more time studying the people in the classroom than actually paying attention to the lessons or helping Harry when he trips up.
"And what's 3 + 3?"
She can't wait until she's in the higher levels, at least then school will be sorta interesting.
"Dad, how come you and Mom tell us not to speak Russian while we're out in public?" Galya asks out of the blue one combat lesson.
Anastasiya pauses in her quest to pick the lock she's working on, curious about how Father will answer.
'The Cold War probably?' she thinks absently, fiddling with the lock pick.
"Speaking Russian makes people nervous," Father answers shortly.
"Why?" Galya questions.
"Because of the current tensions between the Soviet Union and Britain," he says.
"Oh, so we don't speak Russian so they don't look too close?" she wonders.
"Yes," he grunts.
"Oh, okay," Galya answers before promptly losing interest.
"Anastasiya, get back to work!" Father barks.
Anastasiya cringes, "Yes, Father."
She hurriedly returns to picking the lock.
Darting around the swing set, Stasya dodges out of the way of Harry's lunge. He hits the ground then immediately rolls to his feet as Stasya taught him. Stasya's fast, but he'll tag her!
"You can't catch me!"
Right before Christmas Break, Father pulls her aside.
"Bring me something your teacher will miss," he commands, the do not get caught unspoken.
"Yes, Father," Anastasiya replies dutifully.
In class the next day, Anastasiya spends most of the morning contemplating what she'll take; eventually settling on the small glass seashell figurine Short loves so much. She yelled at Dursley just last week for picking it up without permission, so it's something she'll definitely miss.
Near the end of the day is when she makes her move. The class is busy working on a math worksheet and Short is distracted helping another student. She gets up to turn in her worksheet and slowly makes her way to Short's desk where the tray for turning in work is. The figurine is by the tray and as she puts the worksheet in, she swipes the figurine and slips it into the sleeve of her jacket.
Anastasiya casually makes her way back to her chair, sliding the figurine into her pocket when she sits down, shivering a little like she's cold to provide a cover for why her hands are in her pockets. She takes her hands out of her pockets a few minutes later when Harry asks for help on his worksheet.
School ends and Short doesn't notice.
Father pulls her aside when she gets home from school. He quirks a questioning brow, "Well?" he demands.
Anastasiya silently slips out the figurine and hands it to him.
"Good job," Father says warmly, smiling faintly.
She flushes with pride.
"WHICH ONE OF YOU TOOK IT?!" Miss Short screams.
Harry cringes, already preparing to get blamed. It's the last day of school before Christmas Break and it was going so well. Beside him, Anastasiya claps her shaking hands over her ears and hunches over.
"WAS IT YOU, ANNA?!" she bellows; spit flying everywhere.
Anastasiya rapidly shakes her head, still clutching her ears.
"DON'T YOU LIE TO ME, GIRL!" she shrieks, grabbing Anastasiya by the arm and shaking her.
The door to the classroom bursts open and another teacher rushes in.
"Opal, calm down!" she orders.
"NO! ONE OF THESE BRATS STOLE FROM ME!" she yells, still clutching Anastasiya's arm who's tenser than Harry's ever seen her.
"OPAL!" the teacher reprimands.
Another teacher rushes in, takes in the scene, and rushes over to snatch Anastasiya out of Short's grasp. And Harry sighs in relief then scrambles over to check on his friend, while the first teacher tries to calm Short down.
"Anastasiya, are you okay?" he asks quietly.
"M'fine," she mutters, "too loud."
"Oh. Do you want a hug?" he questions tentatively.
She nods slightly and Harry wraps his arms around her.
The classroom erupts into whispers as Short is dragged away, her shrieks still echoing down the hall. Anastasiya huddles into Harry, still covering her ears. Even Before, she disliked loud noises and it seems like it's only gotten worse since she's been reincarnated.
A teacher crouches beside them, "Are you okay?" she asks in concern.
Anastasiya nods, slowly uncovering her ears. She gives Harry a quick hug before stepping away.
"Can you tell me what happened?" the teacher asks softly.
Anastasiya stays silent trying to regain her composure as Harry told the teacher what happened.
The teacher turns to her, "Anna, can I see your arm?"
Anastasiya stares at her in confusion, "Why?"
"I want to make sure your arm is alright," she clarifies.
"Oh, okay."
Anastasiya slips her arm out of her jacket, then rolls up the sleeve of her sweater. There on her right bicep, in the shape of a hand, a bruise is already starting to form. She stared at it blankly, she'd never had a teacher hurt her before...
The teacher purses her lips, "Do you want to go to the nurse?"
She shakes her head, internally cringing at the thought of Father finding out she went to the nurse.
"Alright," she says neutrally, "do you know what was stolen?"
Anastasiya shakes her head.
"No, ma'am," says Harry.
"Okay, why don't you both sit quietly while we get everything straightened out?" she suggests.
They nod and scurry back to their table. Anastasiya pushes her sleeve back down and slips her arm back into her jacket. They sit quietly.
She observes as the teachers talk to their classmates one by one. She glances at the clock, they have about five minutes before school ends and Christmas Break starts. Beside her, Harry fidgets; she leans over.
"What do you want for Christmas?" she asks in an attempt to distract him.
"What?"
"What do you want for Christmas?" she repeats.
"You don't have to get me anything," he says, alarmed.
Anastasiya pokes him in the arm, "I want to."
"I won't be able to get you anything," he whispers.
"That's fine," she soothes.
"No, it's not! You're my best friend, Anastasiya, and I want to get you something," he argues quietly.
She smiles, resisting the urge to coo at how cute he is, "How about you make me something?" she suggests.
Harry lights up, "Yeah, I'll do that, but you have to do it too!"
"Okay, Harry," she agreed.
They settle into silence again, the bell rings a few minutes later.
"Hey Harry," she calls out as they grabbed their bags.
"Yeah?"
"Call me Stasya?" she asks.
Harry grins, "Okay, Stasya!"
The teacher that checked on Anastasiya earlier escorts her to her mom. Mom raises a questioning brow when she spots them. She shrugs and hurries over. She grabs her mom's hand, finally relaxing some.
"Are you Mrs. Sokolova?" the teacher asks.
"I am," Mom confirms as Galya comes up beside Mom and grasps her other hand, she stands quietly.
Anastasiya watches her mom's face as the teacher explains what happened earlier. Mom is still smiling pleasantly, but her eyes. Oh, her eyes. The rage in them could freeze lava.
"I see," Mom says softly after the teacher is done, "thank you for informing me."
"Y-you're w-welcome," the teacher stutters nervously, finally realizing how enraged Mom is.
"Stasya, Galya, let's go," she orders, pulling them away.
Olga can't remember the last time she was this angry, 'How dare that bitch lay a hand on one of her children!' she rages.
The girls follow behind her in silence and she orders them up to their rooms when they finally get home. She makes her way to the kitchen and gets a start on dinner. Banging the pots around to soothe her rage.
Dinner is well underway when Kolya gets home and she relaxes. He will do something about it. Olga leaves the kitchen and strides to where Kolya is. He glances at her briefly, before doing a double-take.
"What happened?" he asks, setting down the bottle of vodka he was pouring.
The sisters hideout in Galina's room as Mom bangs around in the kitchen.
"Are you okay?" Galina whispers to Stasya, cuddling Stasya to her chest as they lay on the bed.
She nods, then flinches when a particularly loud bang occurs. She clutches the back of Galina's shirt.
Eventually, the banging stops and the smell of food wafts up the stairs. A few minutes later, they hear the front door open and shut. Stasya becomes steadily tenser as she waits for Dad's reaction.
"WHAT?!" Dad bellows, Stasya cringes.
They sit up quickly as they hear stomping up the stairs.
The door slams open and Stasya flinches slightly.
"Arm," Dad orders, crouching down by the side of the bed.
Stasya hurriedly pushes up her sleeve, showing off the bruise on her arm. Galina sucks in a breath, Mom hisses in fury.
Dad's eyes narrow, "I'm going to kill her," he snarls darkly, gently taking Stasya's arm to get a better look at it.
"I want her ruined first, Kolya," Mom hisses.
Dad nods shortly and lets go of Stasya's arm. He pats her gently on the head, "Put some ice on it."
He stands up, "I'll go talk to the crew, don't wait up."
He gives Mom a kiss on the cheek, then leaves.
The front door slams shut a minute later.
And that's the chapter! When will the next update be? No clue!
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