Chapter 8) A Good Friend

Selected Listening: Pirouette- Jay Som

Of course, she was being paranoid. There was no way that her own strange fainting illness and Draco Malfoy's could-be-asthma attacks were connected in any way shape or form. They had only met twice before school started, and during that time, nothing mysterious had happened between the two of them. Anastasia thought all of this as she walked silently alongside Hermione to put their books away before lunch.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Hermione asked again. "You went pale in potions. Are you feeling faint again?"

"Uh, no, no I'm alright."

"The hospital wing is just there. Why don't you make sure—" Hermione pointed to the open door.

"Hermione! I am alright. You don't have to nag," she said. Hermione's nostrils flared, she spun around and ran upstairs.

Anastasia considered chasing after her to apologize, but she was interrupted by a familiar boy's voice echoing from the infirmary. She crouched by the door to listen.

"I don't have a condition." Draco told Madame Pomfrey and got up from his creaky cot.

"Mr. Malfoy, your professor had to levitate you in because you passed out."

"I was tired is all. There's no need to floo my parents."

"Your classmates said you were gasping for breath, now you claim you're fine? Don't tell me that it's not something serious." Madame Pomfrey asserted.

"It isn't!" He snapped. "Now leave me alone," He said and stormed out of the hospital wing, too angry to see Anastasia as he passed.

Anastasia did think the coincidence was odd, but she put it out of her mind. Madame Pomfrey was a clever witch, and Anastasia was sure the nurse could handle it. Like Malfoy said, it wasn't any of her business anyway.

At lunch, Hermione decided she was temporarily not speaking to Anastasia and permanently not speaking to Ron or Harry, so the boys invited her over to discuss what could possibly be guarded on the third floor. Anastasia knew it was whatever Nicholas Flamel had given permission to her grandfather for, but she couldn't tell the boys that, so she shrugged and said she wasn't sure, and then wondered with them about all the things that it could be.

Their conversation came to an end when Harry mentioned he had quidditch practice that afternoon with Oliver Wood, Ron started talking about how cool quidditch was, and Anastasia decided she needed to leave for her own sanity.

For the rest of the week, Anastasia avoided eye contact with Minerva. She knew she couldn't be mad at the professor for instating a new seeker with natural talent for the game. Still, she thought it unfair that Harry was a first year, like herself, and under threat from Voldemort, like herself, but her grandfather okayed his position as the most prominent quidditch player anyway.

She tried to bring it up with him at Sunday dinner.

"Grandad?"

"Yes, my child."

"I don't understand why Harry was chosen for the quidditch team. Why are the rules being broken for him?"

"Minerva has been looking for a replacement for Charlie Weasley for quite some time—"

"Sure, but aren't there other Gryffindors that could do a better job? Older students with more experience?" She asked.

"Are you jealous of Harry?"

"It's not fair. You told me I am not allowed to try out because Voldemort's ghost is supposedly after me. Then you let Harry be the star player."

Albus picked at his food.

"Sometimes you have to take risks to get the answers you're looking for…"

"What? Like risking a student injury so that you can protect your Voldemort bait with a three-headed-dog? Seems flashy and unnecessary if you ask me."

Albus looked up, stunned.

"Who told you—"

"No one told me, I ran into it by accident."

"I explicitly said not to go there—"

"Just admit that you're trying to draw Voldemort out. You're using Harry and whatever else you got from Gringotts as a fishing lure, but you hide me as a muggleborn so I don't get hurt. It's not right."

Albus went silent and continued eating. It was a long time before he answered.

"That's not the case. Harry has had nothing his entire life. He needs this."

"Sure…whatever…"

Later that week, Anastasia woke up late and came down the stairs to go to breakfast when there was a commotion. All the Gryffindors had finished their meal in a rush and were crowding around Harry to get a look at a long package he carried in his hands that couldn't be anything else but a racing broom. The other students were so excited, they tried to tear the paper off it before he could get to the common room. Anastasia froze.

Albus and Minerva had broken another first-year rule and bought Harry a broom. Malfoy must have been feeling better, as he barged right through the group to get a good look.

"You're going to be in for it now, Potter. First years aren't allowed brooms." Malfoy said.

Ron egged the Malfoy boy on, insulting the Slytherin's own broom, and suddenly Flitwick appeared.

"Not arguing I hope, boys?" He asked, and after he did, he mentioned all sorts of special circumstances that surrounded Harry becoming seeker and needing a broom. As he did, Anastasia's jaw dropped. Ron and Harry laughed as they made their way up the stairs to put the broom away before class, and Draco Malfoy and his cronies stared dumbfounded next to Anastasia.

"What does he mean he wouldn't have gotten it without my help?" Draco asked Anastasia so directly it shocked her, and she started blabbering the best she could.

"Um…well the other day…when you took Neville's rememberall…you threw it, he caught it, McGonagall saw…Gryffindor needs a new seeker…"

"Seeker? Are you bloody serious?" He asked. She nodded. And then he walked off mad as a hornet, Crabbe and Goyle bumbling off behind him.

Anastasia regained her clarity and realized that the shock she experienced was in fact anger. So much so that she ran all the way to her secret entrance on the second floor, slipped behind the knight into the secret passageway, and ran all the way up, through her room and into the den of the suite.

"Granddad, what is this now about Harry getting a broom!"

She said all this in a horrible rush, but as she did, she scared the old professor who jumped about two feet in the air when she ran up behind him. He had his alchemy set out, a series of flasks and beakers, connected by distilling pipes and Bunsen burners. Interrupting his important business, the old man turned over his shoulder and commented shrewdly.

"You're supposed to be in class."

He was right. She had forgotten all about defense against the dark arts amidst the hubbub.

"Oh, sorry…I'll go, but just tell me honestly why are you letting Harry be seeker? I flew that day too, I was trying to chase down Malfoy so he would give back the rememberall and—"

Albus looked over his shoulder at his alchemy set as if it were something that needed to be hidden, then grabbed her firmly by the arm and shoulder and guided her back to her room.

"Do you remember what Harry's family was like when you and Hagrid picked him up?" He asked, kneeling down to her eye-level.

"They were awful…but why—"

"Mr. Potter has never had anything in his life. Do you understand? He doesn't have guardians back home that are going to buy him a new broom for Christmas like so many of your peers."

"Well yes, but I thought the whole reason behind the first-year rule was so they wouldn't get hurt."

"It is, but Minerva and I have confidence that within a few months, he will be a more than adequate flyer."

"Well yes, but I'm also—"

"You are in hiding. Do you understand? You cannot be the star quidditch player, we have already been over this. The Daily Prophet posts all the quidditch statistics for the school for the professional leagues, so that they can recruit players. If they saw you, a first-year, muggle-born girl with no magical family, scoring higher than anyone your age and started looking into your history, they would find out soon enough that you are not who you say you are."

Anastasia stared sadly into her grandfather's eyes.

"But then…that means I can never try out for the Quidditch team…it doesn't matter how old I am…you said I could try out next year."

He didn't answer her. He stood and turned away.

"Granddad!" She said.

He waved his wand, and a piece of parchment appeared in her hand, a hall pass, with McGonagall's forged signature, not his own.

"Go to class."

"Wait, grandad!" She ran to him to pull on his cloak. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

"I'm very busy, Anastasia! Now, go to class!" He slammed the door to her room and locked it from the outside.

Anastasia only cried for a few minutes before returning to her daily schedule and putting thoughts of becoming a quidditch player out of her mind. Thoughts of soaring through the sky with her peers as she had done for so many years alone. She tried not to look sad as they practiced lighting and spells.

"Lumos." Anastasia said. The tip of her wand glowed faintly for a moment, like a firefly, and faded away.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, sensing her glumness.

"It's nothing." Anastasia said, wishing she wouldn't pry.

The following weeks passed dully into October. Anastasia avoided Minerva and her grandfather as much as she could, except for her Sunday evening dinners, during which she didn't speak much, other than to mutter to her grandfather how classes were going. Every Sunday, it seemed a few more of his wrinkles grew smaller or nonexistent, but someone who did not see him up close wouldn't have noticed the changes under his silvery white beard.

"I understand you're upset, but it's nothing we can change." Albus said sadly about the quidditch situation.

"It's fine. I understand." She sighed. It wasn't fine. She tried to have fun on weekend outings with Fred and George, sneaking into Hogsmeade and following behind them in her invisibility cloak, but she felt she couldn't enjoy her mischievousness as much as she used to.

Mischievous and invisible used to be fun, when she believed that people would know her true identity one day. Like eventually she could jump out from a curtain and say surprise and be welcomed into the world as Anastasia Dumbledore with open arms. But as the reality of living in hiding set in, she realized it could go on forever, and she may never have a chance to be herself.

In other news, Hermione was encroaching on Anastasia's last nerve as semester midterms approached. She wanted to study every waking minute and forced Anastasia to study with her. Anastasia rarely had anything better to do, but when she got bored of studying subjects, she would read muggle books on top of her textbooks.

"Pay attention!" Hermione snapped one day in the library as Anastasia zoned out.

"We've been studying for weeks. Let's go do something fun," Anastasia said.

"But we still haven't been over the most famous alchemists for History of Magic, and we still haven't memorized the healing potion for Snape—"

"I'm done Hermione. I'll talk to you later, but I'm done." Anastasia said, rose, and left Hermione there by herself.

The next day was Halloween, and even though the entire castle wrang with frivolity at the upcoming feast, Hermione still hadn't loosened up about studies. She fretted all day about the upcoming exams, and her precocity spilled over into charms as they were practicing levitating spells. Hermione, of course, succeeded first, and proceeded to correct every other student when they were doing something wrong.

Anastasia left class with Hermione, as she usually did, but zoned out as if her companion wasn't even there.

"She's a nightmare! Honestly. It's no wonder nobody likes her!" Ron's voice echoed back to them.

Anastasia looked to Hermione and saw the confidence drain from her eyes onto the cobblestones. She ran forward, hit her shoulder hard against Ron, and sped away briskly.

"Hermione, wait!" Anastasia called and ran after her. She sped past the boys, and on the way gave a mean glare to Harry and Ron before sprinting to catch up with Hermione's black cloak, a dot on the campus horizon.

Moments later, Anastasia fell to the side at the doorway of the girl's dungeon lavatory. She was huffing and puffing, her vision began to fade in and out, but as her own breaths settled, and the world steadied, she heard a new sound, faint whimpering coming from the bathroom.

"Hermione, I know that sounded mean, but it can't have been as bad as—" Anastasia didn't know what words could possibly comfort her. She paced to the stalls and put her things down outside the one Hermione was in. "Maybe they were talking about another girl?"

"Stop trying to make me feel better. I know they all hate me. Even you. I see the way you look at me in transfiguration, like I'm some rank to beat instead of a person."

Anastasia's heart sank. She hadn't realized her feelings of competitiveness towards Hermione had shown so clearly in her face. Anastasia turned around, put her back against the stall separator, and sank onto the tile floor.

"I'm sorry…" she said, "I didn't mean to be that way…I was just…I don't know what I was thinking."

"I know I'm bossy and nosy and a know-it-all." Hermione said through sobs. "I can't help it, but I really try to be a good friend…I've kept your secret and all."

Anastasia twitched.

"What?" She asked, eyes darting back.

"I know you don't go help McGonagall on Sunday evenings like you said. I found out when I asked her if I could do the same extra credit time, because I thought we might spend time together, but then I followed you and I saw you put on your invisibility cloak and sneak behind that knight on the wall on the second floor."

"Oh." Anastasia said. She had been found out.

"And I know you're lying about being a muggle-born…I heard you arguing with Draco after flying lessons and I realized you had been lying…or else he wouldn't have been so hell-bent on proving your blood status to everyone."

Anastasia felt horrible as she sat and processed this new information. She didn't know whether to acknowledge that everything Hermione discovered was true or not. She sat there for a long time, maybe a whole half hour of listening to Hermione cry before she answered.

"You're right…I'm not a muggleborn." Anastasia finally said.

Hermione's sobs stopped momentarily.

"Then…then where do you come from?" Hermione asked.

Anastasia sighed long and hard before making the decision. Hermione may have been annoying, but she was a good friend.

"Okay, here's the truth…" Anastasia told Hermione all about her past and growing up in the Headmaster's tower, and all the crazy adventures her grandfather's hijinks had caused her, and how lonely she was for most of her life.

"Anastasia…I'm not trying to call you a liar again, but…" Hermione seemed hesitant to continue.

"That's the truth, Hermione, I swear it," she said. "But please, don't tell anyone, I can't afford to be found out. Voldemort could come after me." Anastasia emphasized, but there was still a wariness in Hermione's voice.

"No…that's not what I was going to say. It's not that I don't believe you, it's just that…Dumbledore didn't have any children…not one."

"Well, I think I would know—" Anastasia started.

"Famous Witches and Wizards Chapter 7 was all about Dumbledore and other famous alchemists. It said he was a perpetual bachelor, meaning he never married, and it explicitly said he never had children or a family."

"Oh…" Anastasia said. "Well…maybe he kept my father hidden too," she decided. It was the only possible explanation.

"Maybe." Hermione said hesitantly. It didn't seem like she wanted to talk anymore.

Anastasia sat on the cold hard floor wondering if Hermione would ever be ready to come out again. She thought of all the sweets and goodies they were missing at the Halloween feast, and after another good while of waiting she said, "I'm getting pretty hungry. Why don't we go down to the great hall and grab some snacks to take back to the dorm?"

It was Hermione's turn to sigh a great sigh.

"It will at least smell better than the bathroom," Hermione said. The restroom had somehow become more pungent the longer they sat there. Anastasia heard Hermione get up to leave.

At the same time, there was the horrible sound of something dragging across the floor. A lumbering shadow entered the bathroom. The door behind it swung closed, locked with a clink, and the girls heard Ron and Harry's voices echo back to them in victory.

"Yes!"

"We caught it!"

Anastasia and Hermione came toe-to-toe with a giant troll.