Chapter 10: A Punch to the Gut

Selected Listening: Dueling Club- John Williams

In the common room that evening, the other Gryffindors showered Anastasia in more attention than she had ever received in her life. There was a party of sweets and punch and dancing and loud music. The twins set off fireworks that whizzed around the room. So much happened around her, she floated. Friends cheered. Boys talked to her. She couldn't stop laughing. The dark cloud hanging over the school disapparated for the evening, and all she could feel was pure happiness.

Of course, there were the lingering worries. Like how Harry now had to regrow most of his arm bones. And how Draco basically had an asthma attack on the field, and no one noticed. If he did take the medicine like they had planned, it at least held out through the game. It felt inconsequential now that they were out of immediate danger, and the Slytherins drug their sorry tails back to their dungeon where they would mope the rest of the night. She hoped that Draco's bruised ego from the spoiled game might even do him some good.

It must have been eleven pm when Minerva stormed in.

"Stop! Stop now. Cut the music. Stop," she said furiously. Fred paused the record on the player, and everyone stared at the professor. "Percy, where's Percy?"

Percy walked to the front of the crowd. He had been tucked away with Ravenclaw, Penelope Clearwater, whom he snuck in for the party, snogging in the corner.

"What's wrong, Professor?" Percy asked, his face stark pale. Minerva never came into the common room after ten pm roll call.

"A student has been found petrified. Collin Creevy, first year," she said directly. A quiet gasp rippled through the crowd. Anastasia and Hermione found each other's eyes. "Now, Percy, could you please explain to me what a first year was doing out of the common room after ten pm?"

"I-um-I, professor I didn't notice him slip out."

"He was going to take pictures of Harry's arm!" Dean called. Anastasia vaguely remembered Collin mentioning that after he had gotten tired of photographing the party. Percy looked like he might kill Dean for piping up.

"Well, now you understand the dangers of wandering about the castle at night. That's thirty points from Gryffindor for you, Percy, don't let it happen again," she glanced over to the corner, "and you can see Miss Clearwater out too."

Penelope, who had been inching towards the door at the edge of the crowd, grabbed the portrait door handle.

"No, Clearwater. He needs to walk you there," Minerva said, and then more quietly, "your blood status makes you a target."

Another wave of shock echoed through the house.

"Who did it?" someone asked.

"So, it's true? They're going after muggleborns?"

There were maybe fifty questions flying about the room, but McGonagall waited until the room settled down to answer anything.

"We do not know. We are doing everything in our power to answer all these questions. All I can do right now is ask you to please, do not travel by yourself in the corridors or anywhere on campus. All must be in by eight pm, and if you see anything suspicious or related to the incidents, please tell me or another head of house immediately. Thank you, and goodnight."

Minerva opened the door to ensure Percy left with Penelope for Ravenclaw tower and departed into the castle. Some older students began complaining about the change in curfew and other students ran to owl their parents.

"How awful," Anastasia said to Hermione and Ron, staring into the fire. "Poor Collin."

"I bet Malfoy did this out of spite," Ron said, looking at Anastasia, "for the lost game. Lucky you weren't in the halls."

Anastasia held back.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Once we finish the polyjuice potion, we'll know for sure," she remarked with a tone of finality.

"Right, well, see you bright and early in our favorite spot." Ron went up the stairs. Anastasia took the opportunity and turned to Hermione.

"I already told you, he's not—" she began, but Hermione glared at her angrily.

"Yes, you repeated what Malfoy said to you. If I were the heir of Slytherin, I would be sure to lie to the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor who came asking—"

"He didn't lie to me—and I'm not a goody-two-shoes—"

"Maybe you aren't, but to him, you're a Gryffindor mudblood with no business nosing around in his family history." Hermione looked Anastasia up and down. "But I guess that doesn't matter, because that word has no effect on you."

Hermione stormed up to the dorm, leaving Anastasia frozen. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Are you alright?" It was Fred at her left shoulder. "That looked like a nasty argument."

"Do I hear trouble in Near-sistersville?" George joked, hauling their Zonko's wares in a knitted duffle bag at his side.

"It's fine…it's really fine. She's right." Anastasia supposed she hadn't been taking all the heir of Slytherin stuff as seriously as Hermione, and she had brushed off the mudblood insult rather flippantly at the beginning of the year. She knew she wasn't a real muggleborn student, and she didn't have to worry as much, but that didn't mean she didn't care.

"Speaking of sisters," the twins said together.

The door to the common room opened again, and Percy stepped through, Ginny in tow by the arm. Ginny gripped her diary with the other and lifted her tear-stained face to look at her older brother.

"I can't believe you're out after curfew!" Percy reprimanded. "Are you trying to get me in more trouble? Are you trying to get yourself killed? There's a monster on the loose, Ginny, and I'm not going to be explaining to mum why her only daughter died in her first year when she has four brothers in school to protect her!"

Ginny ripped her arm from him and ran up the stairs after Hermione.

Percy walked over to where Anastasia and the twins stood behind one of the couches.

"Really blew that one, Perce," said Fred.

"Good job," said George, "telling our sister she's going to die is definitely going to help her open up." And the two disappeared up the stairs.

"That was a little harsh. Don't you think?" Anastasia asked Percy gently. "To make her cry like that—"

"She was already crying when I found her. I don't know what's going on…" Percy wiped his tired eyes with both hands. "Maybe so—anyway! The lot of you! Get to bed! Party's over!"

It was an unnecessary announcement. The last straggling students were already walking up that way. Anastasia went with them and found Hermione's bed with the curtains drawn closed. Anastasia searched through her trunk for her necklace and found it in her rolled up sock. She carried it to bed and fell into her mattress, closing the curtains and holding the necklace above her so it spun and glittered with ochre glow. She wished she had her music box to play, but it was still in the headmaster's suite.

She wondered what her mother would tell her to do at a time like this. Anastasia wondered if her mother had been alive and had still been friends with Narcissa Malfoy, if she would have known Draco better. She wondered if she could truly have trusted him when he said he wasn't the heir, or if she would still feel the vast distance between them.

Anastasia wondered if Draco really thought she was a goody-two-shoes mudblood.

On Sunday, Anastasia went down for breakfast late and found everyone already gone back to their houses or the library. She journeyed to the second-floor bathroom where Ron and Hermione sat brewing the potion. She had hoped to talk to Hermione beforehand and at least give a small apology for her casual attitude about the heir of Slytherin and Draco's comments, but now she wondered if Hermione even wanted her to help with the potion.

"Hi Anastasia, catch up on sleep?" Ron chimed as she walked into the bathroom and took a spot on the floor around their cauldron.

"Yeah, I feel a little better," she said quietly. She couldn't properly apologize to Hermione with Ron in the room.

"Snagged you a bagel," Hermione said stiffly, and handed her the bread wrapped in paper.

"Thank you," she took the bagel and chowed down, pleasantly surprised to taste her favorite strawberry jelly in the middle. She took it as a sign that Hermione didn't completely hate her.

It was then that Harry came in as well.

"You won't believe what's happened!" he shouted.

"Collin Creevy is petrified," Ron said.

"And McGonagall's shortened our curfew," said Hermione.

"And we shouldn't walk around alone," Anastasia finished.

"Well yes, all of those things, but also—" Harry knelt into the circle with his bags and explained the appearance of Dobby the house elf. A meddling little being who had been the cause of Harry's trouble since the beginning of the year.

"So, this elf is the reason you almost didn't make it to school," said Anastasia.

"And you didn't receive our letters this year?" Hermione asked.

"And you nearly losing your arm yesterday?" Ron exclaimed.

Harry nearly pulled out his hair.

"Yes. Yes! he doesn't want me here. He thinks it's dangerous for me to be here, because the Chamber of Secrets was open before."

"What?" The others asked, except Anastasia, who sat quietly, already knowing.

Ron accused the Malfoys as being part of it all, saying that Lucius must have arranged the first happening, and Draco was leading the second.

"We don't know that," Anastasia tried, "if some random house elf knew that this all was going to happen, it must be bigger than just the Malfoys."

"Well, we're going to find out," Hermione said, screwing the cap back on a vial, "if we can snag all the ingredients we need from Snape's potions store."

"Grandad, what's going to happen to the school if this keeps up? If more kids like Collin are petrified, will we have to close down?" she asked that evening over Sunday night dinner in the headmaster's suite.

"It is a possibility," Albus nodded, "but that won't happen if we can stop things before—"

"Before what—"

"Before…before things become even worse."

Anastasia didn't press further. She knew he was referring to the death of a student.

"If Hogwarts closed, where would we go?" she asked.

"Should things get so bad that Hogwarts close down permanently, we would move to Shell Cottage until we found another home for the two of us," Albus explained gently, "but I wouldn't worry so much yet. I won't be frightened away from here easily."

"Yes, I know," Anastasia said sadly, but she wasn't keen on staying in the castle with only grandad and the heir of Slytherin running amok. She wondered if Albus might need a healthy dose of fright now and then.

"Until we resolve this, I would like to discontinue our Sunday dinners for now. It's too dangerous for you to be by yourself in the corridors. You can come back for Christmas dinner."

She nodded understandingly. When dinner had finished, they embraced, exchanged farewells, and she sped back to Gryffindor tower as fast as she could.

On Tuesday, when they had potions again, they were ready. Ron had taken one of the twins' fireworks, and they planned on Harry chucking it across the room at just the right time to make a commotion and give Hermione and Anastasia time to search the storeroom. That morning, Anastasia received a note via owl.

Anastasia,

I've been trying to talk to you, but you're always with the Gryffindorks. Meet me in the back staircase after potions.

Draco

"What's that?" Ron asked intrigued. "You never get mail!"

"Oh," Anastaisa said, hiding the note in her pocket and blushing, "it's a note from my folks. Nothing important really."

"What'd they say?" Harry asked. "It must have been important if they faced an owl for it."

Anastasia had excused her lack of mail on the idea that her parents both had an extreme fear of predatory birds. Hermione, who had been sitting on her right when she received the message, gave her a warning look.

"They said they'd be seeing my grandmother in Germany for Christmas, and that I should stay here," she told them pleasantly.

"Didn't they tell you that last year?" Ron exclaimed in concern. "Seems like they don't want you home."

Anastasia shook her head.

"It's nothing, really. My grandmother lives alone, it's the least they can do to go visit. Besides, I like being here. The castle is beautiful at Christmas time."

"I agree," Harry said kindly. "I know what it's like not to want to go home."

Anastasia smiled at Harry in response. The boys had assumed long ago there was something wrong with Anastasia's family because she didn't talk about them much. Hermione glared fiercely beside her. She had seen the note.

Snape assigned them a swelling potion for class. They waited until everyone was in the middle of brewing to set off the plan. Harry's throw landed perfectly, and Hermione and Anastasia sped for the storeroom. As they did, Anastasia felt a horrible pressure build up in her face. She looked back and found that Draco had been hit with the splashed swelling potion and his nose grew to three times its normal size. She felt her face, but it hadn't changed physically.

"Keep lookout!" Hermione hissed and Anastasia stood at the doorway to ensure Snape didn't catch them as they pilfered. He was too busy administering shrinking cream to fix the expanded body parts of affected students. Anastasia rubbed her face, hoping Draco would be treated soon.

"Done." Hermione said a few moments later, and they returned to their own unblemished swelling potion. Anastasia put her head in her hands, a horrible headache coming over her even though Draco had returned to his seat, nose restored to normal.

After class, the four left together, Hermione keeping very close eyes on Anastasia.

"That went perfectly!" Ron said cheerfully.

"Lucky for us, Snape didn't actually catch us," Harry pulled at his tie nervously. They walked into the thick of the crowd moving towards lunch, ascending one flight, and almost reaching the Great Hall's enormous door.

At this moment, Anastasia took her chance.

"I forgot one of my books in class. I'll have to double back. See you later!" Anastasia chimed and fought her way upstream through the throng to the back staircase. She journeyed all the way back to the dungeon level, where she found Draco waiting for her. With the other students eating, they had the space mostly to themselves, tucked away in the alcove beneath the last set of stairs.

Draco didn't say anything at first. He stared; his ice blue eyes boring into hers.

"What? What did you want?" she asked, becoming self-conscious.

"Why didn't your nose swell?" he lifted his hand to touch her face, but she slapped it away.

"I doesn't work like that," she reasoned, both to herself and Draco. "I have a headache now because of your swollen nose…last year my eye hurt when Ron punched you, but it didn't turn black. I don't think we have the exact same injuries. I think we share the symptoms."

Draco glared as if this changed nothing.

"Delightful! Did you notice me having an asthma attack while you were catching the snitch Saturday?"

"Yes…I almost blacked out…but I pushed through," she admitted guiltily.

"Why would you do that?" Draco rubbed his hair back. "We both almost collapsed on the field! What would you have done if the Daily Prophet slapped that on the front page?"

Anastasia turned red in embarrassment.

"I'm the reserve player, it's my job to win when Harry can't. No matter what's happening. Even if it puts us in danger, socially or otherwise."

Draco scoffed. "Forget Potter! You can't be a reserve player if you lose your life!"

Anastasia watched Draco in silent desperation. He stared back at her all the same.

"I used the last of that inhaler on the game, and we have another after Christmas. What are we going to do?" he asked.

"It shouldn't be bad because Gryffindor won't be playing Slytherin again. The other one of us—we can feign sick during each other's games. Maybe it would help if one of us isn't exerting any energy?" Anastasia asked hopefully.

"You're only guessing…you don't know that for sure…"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Swipe another one for us?" Draco begged. "Wherever you got it, find another one!"

Anastasia glared back in disgust. Why couldn't he understand that this was wrong? That they shouldn't be stealing from anyone to save themselves. If she was ever caught, she would have a lot more problems than an obscure illness.

"The only reason I felt okay taking it in the first place was because it was nearly empty. I'm not taking Justin's inhaler again."

"Justin? That Hufflepuff? I'll come up with a way to take it—"

"That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean? Otherwise—"

"I mean I'm not stealing anymore! Convince your parents to fill your bloody prescription!" she yelled back as loud as she could while still in a whispered tone.

"They won't. I'll lose my inheritance!" he countered.

Anastasia, on the verge of crying from both the headache and the argument, squeezed her fists over her temples. She took a deep breath and did her best to say something sensible.

"Why do your parents care more about your inheritance than your survival?" she asked.

"They don't! It's just that…"

"That what?"

"The Malfoy family wards. Protection spells. Incantations that have been in my lineage for generations cease to exist for me and my mother if I'm found to have a muggle disease and declared illegitimate—I won't just lose money…I'll lose magic." Draco looked away from her, unable to make eye contact.

Now it made sense, Anastasia thought, why he always put on the blood purist front and said cruel things to everyone else. He felt insecure, knowing he would lose his status the moment his disease hit press. She tried to think of anything to comfort him. She wondered if she should say something, about her discovering her mother and Narcissa were best friends. But if she did…it might make it that much easier for him to dig into her identity.

"It's not a muggle disease—"

"Doesn't matter." Draco shook his head. "The wards were written centuries ago. My ancestors were only concerned with blood purity. If this goes on the record, my father will have to divorce my mother and find another wife for another Malfoy heir. I'll be kicked out of my home."

"Why would he have to do that?" Anastasia asked, eyes narrowed. Every new word she heard about Lucius Malfoy made her loathe him more and more.

"Because if there is no legitimate Malfoy heir named, the wards die forever."

Anastasia fell quiet. She didn't understand that was riding on his shoulders for so long. It wasn't right for someone so young to have to carry.

"That's awful," she finally said. "I'm so sorry."

"I don't need your pity, Anastasia. I need your help," Draco said in a humbled tone she'd never heard him use before.

Anastasia stood in thought for a while, her arms folded across her chest. Eventually she nodded.

On the first floor, she found Hermione with crossed arms and an irritated expression.

"You were listening, weren't you?" Anastasia asked angrily.

"Not best friends with Draco Malfoy, huh? And now you're stealing for him? From other students?" she asked as they walked toward the great hall.

"Hermione, what am I supposed to do? Die?" Anastasia asked. It was as if her best friend kept forgetting that part.

"You could try to find another way," Hermione said more quietly. "Or ask your dad. He's the most powerful wizard in alive—"

It was so strange hearing Hermione call the man she knew as her grandfather her dad that it took her a second longer to register.

"I told him about it. He doesn't seem to have or want a solution," she snapped.

"It's not fair," Hermione said, arms crossed.

"That's pretty much how my life works," Anastasia responded curtly.

When they returned to the common room, they found a notice on the board. Dueling lessons would begin that evening in the Great Hall. They arrived together with the rest of the school, crowded around a long stage. Much to Anastasia's chagrin, Lockhart climbed up with a flourish and gazed around at them all with a plastered smile.

Anastasia did her best to ignore him after the first day of school, seeing as his lessons were all bogus shenanigans, reenactments of all his books rather than teaching them a thing. It worked quite well, except when it came to her assignments in which she refused to flatter him, doing her best to cite every dark arts defense specialist except her teacher. It earned her C's assignments for what used to be one of her most enjoyed classes.

Snape climbed the stage at the other end, staring darkly at Lockhart as the dufus touted his apparent skillset. They prepped to duel, and when the potions professor sent Lockhart sailing to the other side of the room, Anastasia laughed giddily.

Hermione smacked her arm.

"What?"

"He could be hurt!"

"So?"

This question received a glare from Hermione and more snickers from Harry and Ron. Snape and Lockhart began pairing them up to practice their disarming spells. The dark-cloaked potions master strolled over to them with a sinister gleam.

"Ah yes, Malfoy with Potter, Granger with Blustode, and Green with Parkinson…that should do nicely."

Anastasia looked to Pansy who twiddled her fingers in a wave and grinned menacingly.

"Grab her hair," Hermione whispered before she was jerked away.

Anastasia faced her opponent.

"Is the little mudblood girl scared yet?" Pansy taunted. "Can't use alchemy in the middle of a duel."

Anastasia shot a spell at Pansy before either professor could say go, earning her a warning glance from Snape. Pansy ducked. Her lip curled in a growl.

When Lockhart gave the signal, the room descended into chaos. Students sent spells flying. Anastasia aimed her disarming spell and fired. Pansy's wand left her hand, but at the same time, Anastasia felt a large rock hit her abdomen. She fell to the stone floor. When she looked up, Pansy had reclaimed her wand and stood laughing at her.

"The heir of Slytherin is going to make mincemeat out of you. I hadn't even cast anything!" Pansy trilled in delight.

The rest of the fights stopped. Anastasia looked over her shoulder to see that Harry had blasted Draco with a spell and caused him to fall over too. Anastasia rose and strolled over to Hermione who had wrestled Bulstrode to the ground. The Slytherin girl struggled like a beetle stuck upside down. Anastasia offered Hermione a hand and pulled her up.

Hermione held up a hair and slipped it into a vial she had in her pocket.

"Did you get one?" she asked. Anastasia shook her head. The girls rejoined Harry and Ron and ventured back to the stage together.

Anastasia wanted to tell Harry nice shot, but he wouldn't understand at all.

Lockhart and Snape agreed that blocking was more important of a lesson, and they searched the crowd for two volunteers. Anastasia crossed her fingers behind her back and prayed it would be anyone else. She held hope for a minute when Lockhart chose Ron and Seamus, but Snape nixed the idea and called Harry and Draco to the platform.

The two rivals stared each other down. They shot random spells at each other until Harry hit Draco square in the stomach, sending him flying, much like Snape had Lockhart.

Anastasia buckled over; her arms wrapped her stomach to keep herself from collapsing.

"Are you alright?" Hermione held Anastasia's shoulder to steady her. Anastasia shook her head and did her best to straighten up. She watched as Malfoy regained his footing and aimed his wand at Harry.

"Serpensortia!" Draco said, and a snake jumped out of the wand and onto the platform. The students trampled backward.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, but Anastasia could only shake her head.

"I feel sick," she managed.

Harry approached the snake. A hissing sound erupted from his open mouth.

The rest of the students stood wide-eyed as the snake turned and went towards Justin. Harry spoke again and the snake got closer.

"Stop it, stop it!" Anastasia yelled. Snape aimed his wand at the snake, and it burned into the air.

The students were dismissed, whispering amongst themselves. Anastasia felt like she'd been hit by a bludger in the same place twice. She limped upstairs with Hermione's help.

"You didn't tell us you were a parstlemouth!" Ron gaped at Harry as Hermione helped Anastasia into an armchair in the common room.

"A what?" Harry asked.

"You speak parstletongue, snake language?"

"No, no, I was just telling the snake to stop, in normal English. At least I thought."

"Harry, you were not speaking normally." Hermione said. "It looked like you were egging the snake on or something."

"No, I swear. I told it to stop." he said, and then looked at Anastasia.

"You believe me, right?" Harry asked. Anastasia couldn't answer, she couldn't even speak.

"What's wrong with you?" Ron asked. "You didn't even duel all that much."

"Um…" she tried.

"You're not afraid of me, are you? I'm not the heir of Slytherin," Harry pleaded. Anastasia regained her breath and did her best to answer.

"I believe you, Harry. Really. I'm just not feeling well…cramps," she excused. She hadn't started her period yet, but it was better than playing twenty questions and having another of her secrets found out.

"Oh." Harry said, blushed, and tried to look anywhere else.

"Even if Anastasia and Hermione believe you, the rest of the school thinks differently, Harry," said Ron. "The only other people known to have spoken parstletongue are Salazar Slytherin…and Voldemort."