Atlas spends a lot of time in the library or in the small secluded alcove he'd found for himself the next couple days following Sirius Black's attempted break in to the Gryffindor common room.
The school was all abuzz with talk of the now infamous event. The tale of the Fat Ladies flight and the terrifying knowledge that a wanted criminal had been walking the halls of their school could be heard at every turn.
Atlas was really just surprised no one had imagined the man who'd done the impossible of escaping Azkaban would figure a way into Hogwarts if he really wished it. After doing one, it seems the other would be as easy as could be.
No everyone and their owls had something to say about Sirius Blacks break in to the castle, how he did, why he did it, and just general discussion of what a terror he must be. Merlin forbid they find the same passion for discussing the first quidditch match of the season, but it seemed escaped convicts outweighed centuries long house rivalries. That perhaps being the only admirable thing about the talk.
Even with him avoiding heavily trafficked areas, Atlas finds himself target for much discussion. Evidently the recentering of Sirius in everyones mind has brought the need for Atlas's opinion on the uncle he'd never met back into the light as well.
He wishes they'd focus their bothering upon Potter, the boy has the larger target upon him and yet they all seem focused on him.
Potter might have even met Sirius before, Atlas can only figure, and yet Atlas sat down for another defense lesson only to receive overtly curious and presumptuous questioning from a gaggle of Gryffindors who Atlas wished would return to keeping with their own overly noble type and leave him to his self or at least well familiarized Slytherins.
"Finnegan you have to know by now that asking daily isn't going to change the answer," Theodore remarks as he slides into the seat in front of Atlas, leaning back immediately to rest upon Atlas's desk where he sits scowling at the book Lupin had leant near two weeks ago. "If anything you're treading dangerously close to ending up on the receiving end of a nasty curse."
"And Atlas is quite familiar with curses." Mina remarks, leaning towards the Gryffindor where he stood beside Atlas's desk, a wicked smile gracing her lips. "He's read all sorts of books upon them. I imagine he could find quite the ingenious one to use."
Atlas glances to Finnegan, whose eying him carefully with the familiar distrust of a Gryffindor to a Slytherin. Atlas straightens, rolling his wand between his fingers and shifting his scowl to a sneer. "There was one I'd been meaning to try out."
"Oi, alright," Finnegan backs from the table, evidently showing there was limits to Gryffindors reckless bravery. "Just wanted to know if y'knew anything. He is your uncle after all."
"Yes, my uncle who for the first year of my life was living separately and disowned for some time, and then the next thirteen years was securely in Azkaban." Atlas remarks dryly. "I definitely took my weekends as a child visiting him amongst all those Dementors, damned again the fact that he'd been disowned long before I was even born."
Finnegan frowned and it was only by the grace of the door to class opening and shutters being slammed shut dropping the class into dim lighting that kept the Gryffindor from producing a retort.
"Did you really have a curse in mind?" Daphne whispers in inquiry, a clever curiosity in her gaze as he shrugs and they are cut off by a familiar, but not in this class, figure walking to the front.
Professor Snape strode to the front of class and turned to face them all. "Turn to page 394."
"Excuse me, Sir, where's Professor Lupin?" Potter speaks up first, asking the obvious question likely wandering through most of the students minds.
Atlas flipped through the book as Snape spoke, "that's not really your concern, is it Potter?" Snape remarked looking down his nose at the bespectacled boy. "Suffice it to say that your professor finds himself incapable of teaching at the present time."
Potter, never to leave something alone, barreled onwards. "What's wrong with him?"
Snape frowned, the ever-present glare to his eye darkening toward Potter as he responded, "nothing life-threatening." The tone to his voice suggested there was some level of disappointment in that statement. "Ten points from Gryffindor for the constant interruptions Potter. Now, turn to page 394."
He taps upon a projector with his wand before waving it at Weasley's book, the redheaded boy sitting up startled from his languid flipping of the textbook and with some level of shock and confusion remarking, "werewolves?"
Nearly immediately Granger piped up, "But sir, we've just begun learning about Red Caps and Hinkypunks." Snape looks disapprovingly towards the girl, "we're not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks."
"Quiet." Snape remarks cooly before lifting his head and walking towards the front of class where a projection is running through various images. "Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?"
Atlas glanced over the pages of the book, he'd read through most of it already and what he hadn't he'd skimmed purely out of curiosity. He can see though that Granger's hand is stick straight up in the air, though in similar fashion to the tendencies in potions class Snape overlooked it with a sneer.
"Anyone?" Snape inquired. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"
"We told you," another Gryffindor girl spoke up, Parvati Atlas believed she was named. The girl looked annoyed, which was a common occurrence with Snape and Gryffindors. "We haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"
"Silence!" Snape snarls. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one." Granger looked a second away from interrupting as Snape continued on, "I shall make a point of informing Dumbledore how very behind—"
"There are several small differences that can be seen between werewolves and true wolves," Atlas speaks up, keeping his leisured poise upon his chair, glancing at the Professor who looked at him with a mix of approval because it was a Slytherin finally speaking instead of one of the Gryffindors and annoyance for being interrupted from continuing what ever flagellating speech he had planned as a way to degrade both the Gryffindors and evidently Professor Lupin. "But the main difference is in their behavior."
Snape eyed him a moment, "very astute, Mr. Black. It seems not all third-years are hopeless, ten points to Slytherin." He turns, looking to the rest of the class, "can anyone tell me what the difference in behavior is that differentiates a werewolf from a true wolf."
Atlas glances to Granger again, her hand never having left though her gaze had found its way to him when he'd spoken. He raises a brow at her, and before Snape can barrel back into degrading the students she speaks up. "Sir, the main difference is in the level of aggression. True wolves rarely attack humans, while werewolves often target humans specifically and rarely go after any other creatures." She looked proud of herself, as Atlas has noticed she often does when talking about something she is knowledgable in.
But Snape does not look remotely impressed. "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," he says cooly, "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."
Granger went red in the face, and slumped down in her chair looking rather close to tears. The class grew silent, all the Gryffindors now glaring with much more force at Snape, while Weasley spoke up loudly, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?" Weasley's gaze flickered over to Atlas before returning to Snape, anger evident in the redness to his face, "She didn't interrupt anymore than Atlas did, and you gave him points for it."
Somehow the room grew quieter as Snape rounded on Weasley, a sharp glare to his gaze as he leans very closely to the Gryffindor boy. "Detention, Weasley." He states. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."
Weasley didn't sink away though, he just glared as Snape stood and returned to the front of class. The class sits in the silence, Snape dismissing them to start reading quietly and write notes upon the chapter on Werewolves. Snape slunk through the rows of desks, and Atlas tapped his fingers along the page not bothering to even lift his quill.
He glances to Granger, who is still sat tensely, her head lowered and her gaze sharp on the page though he doubts she's reading.
He looks again to the page, and sighs flipping away from the Werewolf chapter back to the one Lupin had intended them to start this lesson. An illustration of a Hunkypunk floated about the corner of the page as he read over the chapter.
"Mr. Black, you are to be on page 394, writing notes on Werewolves, not Hunkypunks." Snape drawls as he makes his way past Atlas's desk.
Atlas glances up from the page, "yes, well considering Professor Lupin— you know our actual Defense teacher— had intended on us starting on this chapter of the textbook today I figured I'd go with that rather than something we'll be learning later in the year as I'd rather not have to repeat the reading." Atlas leans carefully forward, his chin raised and gaze sharply kept with Snape even as some of the other students glance his way. "Really, Professor, you ought to listen to the students better when you're standing in for another professor. Otherwise I imagine you're best off just sticking with Potions, because at this point you're just disrupting our learning more than enhancing it."
Snapes gaze darkens in a way that Atlas rarely ever sees directed in the direction of him or any other Slytherin. And perhaps something more, some sliver of reminiscence that makes Atlas burn a bit at the thought, and Snape points his wand to the book. The pages flip back to the illustration of the werewolf. "Detention, Black." Is all he says before he walks past sharply.
Atlas ignores the stares of the others students, instead just leisurely flipping back to the chapter he'd been reading and returning to it.
And the game goes on, each time Snape walks past his desk the pages flip, and each time Snape leaves him he returns to where he'd left off. He can tell with each round of this little game that the Professor is boiling with anger, and if anything at this point it simply fuels Atlas to continue doing it.
By the end of the lesson Snape is gritting his teeth so hard Atlas wonders if they'll crack, he smirks as the man turns at the front of the class and looks over them all. His simmering gaze landing sharply on Atlas with a sharp bit of loathing before returning to the rest of the class as he speaks, "You will each write an essay, to be handing in to me, on the ways you recognize and kill werewolves." Atlas ignores the rest of it, having no intention of doing an essay for Snape in a class the man isn't even the actual professor of. He only listens to the last bit when his name comes up, "Weasley, Black, stay behind, we need to arrange your detentions."
Atlas lounges carefully in his seat as the others around him gather their belongings. Mina glances at him with a carefully and inquisitively raised brow but he just shrugs and she nods, he's well aware she'll be pestering him about this later but cares little about it.
Theodore though, never one to not pester, leans over after he packs the last of his supplies. "Now I wonder, do you have a soft spot for the muggleborn, or are you a teachers pet after all for Lupin?"
"Neither," Atlas responds with little care, "I just don't enjoy my lessons being turned into nonsense. I like to actually learn, something I know you're not too familiar with Nott."
Theodore rolls his eyes, and rests a hand on Atlas's shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he says "well, I'll applaud you this, don't think I'd ever see the day Snape gave a Slytherin detention. You've truly done the impossible."
"It'll make the history books," Daphne laughs as she walks around the desk and waits for Theodore to join her.
"Finally give Professor Binns some new material too," Mina jokes.
"Perhaps now Atlas will actually stay awake in that class." Theo laughs.
"No loitering, you three." Snape's voice sharply cuts them off. "Black, to me."
Atlas sighs, and slowly stands up from his desk, taking his time walking up to Snape and being sure to give him an utterly unfazed expression as he arrives. Weasley is stood a few steps from him, looking as incensed as earlier, though for whatever reason it now seems partly directed at him.
Snape informs them both of their detentions, Atlas cleaning the cauldrons in the potions room and Weasley with the far worse off detention of cleaning the bedpans in the hospital wing. It seemed Slytherin favoritism still got Atlas a bit of leeway, and he couldn't deny he wasn't grateful for that.
Once Snape had dismissed them Atlas makes his way quick from the room, ready to move on with his day.
"What was that all about?" Weasley, evidently not ready to move on with his day, berates Atlas.
Atlas cocks his head and glances at the other boy, "what was what all about?"
Weasley narrows his eyes and looks over Atlas frantically like he's suddenly gained skill in legilimens and will be able to decipher his thoughts just like that. "I don't know what sort of business you're up to…"
"Let stop you there, Weasley, before you give yourself a headache." Atlas interrupts, "that was nothing, no hidden meanings to search out so don't read into it like it has any significance to you or your little friends. Snape disrupted our lessons with whatever dislike he holds for Lupin. I dislike my lessons being disrupted, it's as simple as that." Weasley glares at him, looking utterly unconvinced and Atlas could only roll his eyes. "I wouldn't stand around balking at me, Weasley, you only have a few hours of freedom before you'll be scrubbing out bedpans, I'd make the most of it if I were you."
He leaves Weasley, red faced as his hair, behind. And starts towards the Dungeons to find some moments of solitude before his own detention in the evening.
The day of the first Quidditch match of the season turned out to be a day with roaring rain and the threat of thunder off in the distance.
Evidently not wishing to suffer the disadvantageous weather, the Slytherin team made quick use of Draco's 'injury' at the hand of the hippogriff to get out of playing Gryffindor.
As such Atlas found little want to be out in the horrid weather himself, what with the battering gales and the pouring rain he loathed the idea of sitting out in the cold and getting his clothes soaked through. Knowing his luck it would only end in him getting sick and being miserable for the next couple of weeks.
If it wasn't his team to be watching, then he certainly wasn't going to suffer for Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. He simply informed Mina of his choice of staying within the warmth of the castle and asked her to inform him of the events of the match, he also informed Theodore that he would be asking Mina and Daphne whether Potter falls or not so as to settle the matter of the bet they'd made at Slytherin's try outs.
He spends the afternoon reading, electing to utilize the fact that the castle was mostly empty and sit in the open solitude of the Great Hall and enjoy some tea brought by the house elves of the kitchen as he reads. He can hear the rain upon the windows, pattering loudly as the wind howls in tandem with it. Above him the enchanted sky of the Great Hall shows dark clouds of storm, lightening flashing deep within them.
It settles something in Atlas, brings some security that seems out of place in tandem with a storm. But it always had, listening to storms raging while inside a house always made Atlas feel safe in an odd way. Perhaps it was the fact that he was inside, and the storm thus could not touch him.
The peace and warmth of the quiet inside while nature rages outside.
Stillness surrounded by motion.
Atlas listens as thunder crashes and he sips quietly at his tea.
"I see you are getting some use out of the book." Professor Lupin's voice nearly startles Atlas from his serenity. He glances to the man, who looked to still be severely under the weather as he'd been the day before when he'd missed the Defense lesson.
"It's not entirely rubbish." He responds blankly. It wasn't, he'd found it far more rewarding a read than the first book Lupin had leant, useful even after a few times read through. Now he'd settled on finding certain sections of interest and diving deeper into those before he would return it. Though he was running near the end of his interest with this particular book. "It does offer some intriguing facts about the various creatures. Boggarts included."
"Yes," Lupin nods, he has deep darkness under his eyes and holds himself slightly hunched as though standing is a bother. "I thought that would all be of interest to you."
"It was. Though I'm likely to return it soon."
"Perhaps I'll have some other book for you to read next."
"Why?" Atlas inquires bluntly. Tired of the guessing at Lupins motivations.
Lupin studies him, and sighs. "May I sit?" He nods at the bench.
"You look as though you need to so be my guest." Atlas responds, giving him another once over at the mans tired pallor.
Lupin chuckles, "yes, I'm still recovering a bit from my bout of illness." He coughs, and looks to Atlas. "I figured you needed to learn more about what the creature was, I saw your curiosity that night and figured you'd benefit from having more information on it."
Atlas frowns, not enjoying the reminder of Lupin's presence when he'd faced his boggart, the other things he'd seen beyond Atlas's curiosity. "And the second book? Hardly necessary for me to have more information, the first provided enough basics on Boggarts."
"I saw the interest you had," Lupin shrugged. "I've noticed it in class as well, you seem quite intrigued by complex spells and theories, as well as studying any variety of subjects that are placed before you."
"Yes well, I can feed that interest myself quite easily," Atlas responds, "hardly needed you to provide me books for it."
"No, I suppose you don't need me to." Lupin acquiesces with a nod, "but, I am one of your professors, and as such it is sort of my job to help you learn and grow as a wizard." Atlas still stares skeptically, and finally Lupin seems to sigh. "And, though I know you'll dislike it, I will admit some part of my previous relationship with your uncle has influenced my wish to offer you support."
"I don't need support from you."
Lupin nods, and leans back in a slight show of surrender. "No, but I wish to offer it all the same."
"I'm not my uncle."
"No and though I've noticed a few similarities I've also noticed several differences to support that fact." Lupin smiles, though it holds some bit of grief to it.
Atlas looks at that bit of grief, and infers what he will from it. The man had been close with his uncle, that much was clear. And if the fact he'd shared tea with Potter over the Hogsmeade weekend was some indication perhaps he'd been close with Potters father as well.
"Did you expect it?" Atlas inquires, that little bit of curiosity that always lingered deep in the recesses of his mind. That he could never shake. He didn't care for his uncle, beyond the disdain for the difficulties that his life choices had bred in Atlas's own existence. But he'd always been curious, wondering what had lead the man to do what he'd supposedly done.
Lupin is silent for several moments, quiet contemplation while the question mulls through his mind. Atlas can see it though, all the conflict and wonder.
How many times has he thought on this? On why it happened? If there was anything he could have done to stop it?
"No." Lupin replies quietly, old grief evident in the undertone of his words.
A lot, Atlas decides, he has thought upon it a lot.
Atlas shuts the book before him, sliding it into his arms. "Can I return this now?"
"Are you finished with it?" Lupin asks, a bit staggered either from the quick shift in conversation or the fact he was still unwell.
"Yes," Atlas taps his fingers along the spine, "I was actually hoping to look for something on spirits in a general sense, non-beings are fascinating and I'm hoping to compare them with others on the broader spectrum."
Lupin blinks, studying Atlas it seems now for his own motivations, before nodding. "Come, I'll let you search the stacks in the Defense room if you'd like."
Atlas nods, and follows the man out of the Great Hall. He's not certain that he trusts, or likes, the man. And while Atlas is still not entirely certain of the mans motivations. He knows they're not meaningless, but he is beginning to think they are of a more altruistic core. Though mixed of course with whatever grief or guilt he holds in regards to the relationship he'd held with Sirius Black.
And while Atlas wasn't entirely thrilled about that fact, he was at the least willing to not dismiss it if only to get access to books previously out of his reach.
Atlas is sat leisurely at his desk and leafing through his Ancient Runes textbook waiting for the class to begin when Granger drops into the typically empty seat beside him.
"Thank you." She states plainly before she begins to dig out her texts.
"For what exactly?" He inquires though he has some inkling.
She pauses, and glances at him like he's being thick just to annoy her. Which in part perhaps he is. "For what you did with Snape."
"I didn't do anything with Snape, I simply did the lesson Lupin had originally planned," Atlas flips the page in his book, "I certainly didn't do anything for you."
Her eyes narrow to skeptical slits before she shakes her head and returns to organizing her belonging upon her desk.
"Granger, whatever you think I did certainly does not mean I have invited you to sit beside me in a class." He states.
She meets his gaze and huffs, sitting up straight and glancing towards where she used to sit. "This is the only other empty seat," she informs him, "And if I have to sit beside Michael Corner for the rest of the year listening to him chatter about runes as though he is the be all end all of knowledge about them I will go mad." She sets out her pot of ink and quill a bit roughly, black ink spilling over her fingers.
She frowns and wipes her hands down her robes while Atlas considers her a second before shrugging. "Corner doesn't know when to admit he's wrong."
She smiles but Atlas has returned to looking through the texts. The room is quiet save the other students entering and Granger arranging her supplies about her. Finally when she settles into some bit of quiet she speaks carefully and precisely. "It wasn't all entirely rubbish."
He glances from the corner of his eye to her, raising a brow in question and she slides the book he'd bought her across the table.
"Then keep it," He shrugs.
"You bought it. It's yours." She responds, almost sounding offended at him having given it to her.
"I'm not exactly hurting for money. Even if I was I have also recently made ten galleons off of the fact that your friend Potter fell off his broom last Saturday," Granger frowned at that, looking ready to tell him off before he continued on. "And I recall telling you that if you didn't like it that I'd take it back," he replies, "but as you said it's not all entirely rubbish. Perhaps another read through and you'll realize it's all better than the older drivel."
"It's not all better," She defends, arms crossing. "And actually I found that much of it can also be applied or overlapped with the other theories, updating the ones you called out of date and enhancing the ones still with relevance."
He straightens up and looks to her more fully. "Oh?"
"Yes." She straightens as well.
He glances at the book, "do you have the other as well?" He inquires.
"Yes?" She blinks confused, reaching into her book bag and pulling the outdated theories book out.
He takes it and the one he'd suggested from her hands and settles them in his own bag. She makes a sound of protest. "I'll return them, don't worry." He waves her off, "just figured I'll be the judge of whether there is any benefit of the older theories in tandem with the new."
She blinks owlishly at him a few moments before smiling proudly. "Good. I'm sure you'll find I'm correct."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Granger." He responds with a smirk as he settles himself back into his seat, stretching his legs out under the desk as Professor Babbling starts talking at the front of class.
She raises her chin more before her head dips to look at the parchment before her, her quill beginning to take notes quickly as Babbling speaks. Atlas glances at her, and recalls the redness to her face when Snape had told her off.
Perhaps not meaningless motivations that day, even if he didn't wish to acknowledge it.
Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know your thoughts I love to hear them!