Chapter 13: Anastasia and the Light

Selected Listening: Dumbledore's Theme- Solo Piano

Anastasia felt no pain when she first saw the basilisk reflected in the armor. The knight who always guarded her chamber and her secrets had betrayed her. The castle, the basilisk, and Draco had all vanished at once.

At first, she saw only light. She walked, hoping to see someone, any familiar faces at all, but there was no one there. Only her.

It could have been hours, or days, or weeks, but somewhere in all her walking she began to panic.

What if I'm dead? she thought What if this is it?

She started running, hoping she might make it to her destination faster, but the area around her was not filled with anything or anyone.

As she ran, she panicked.

What will grandad think? I can't leave him all alone.

She picked up her pace.

And Minerva? How will she feel?

The air around her grew gray with whisps of dark current.

My friends, I may never see them again.

She sprinted.

"Help!" she shouted. "Help, please! Is anyone out there?"

No answer, darkness swelled around her.

"Please! Please, I can't die yet. No one knows who I am!" She screamed in protest, but the darkness only grew thicker and thicker, leaching gusts around her body.

And in that darkness, she stayed another countless period, screaming.

At one point, she thought she heard a boy call to her, saw a flash of blonde hair amongst the shadows, but only a glimpse.

It might have been days or nights before she heard his voice again.

"Anastasia!" Draco called. "Anastasia!"

This time, she could hear him as if he were standing next to her, not shouting across tunnels and corridors.

"Draco?" Her voice hitched. "Draco help—please! Please!"

His arms clasped around her shoulders tightly. The wind slowed. She hugged him back around the waist.

"Am I dead?" she asked, her head in his shoulder.

"Only petrified. It shouldn't be long now before the potion's ready. You'll be fine." He let go and held both her hands. The black wind died down.

"You have to stop, Anastasia."

"Stop what?"

"If you keep being upset, you're going to create an obscurial. Mr. Scamander says he's not sure if he could use the same procedure again to free you."

"An obscurial?" she asked.

"It's a daemon. One that possesses magics who can't use their powers for some reason or another. Dumbledore said you had one before. You have to stop being upset before one can take hold of you," he explained.

"Had one before?" but although Anastasia thought back for years, she couldn't remember anything possessing her at all. "What are you doing here—are you?"

"Quidditch game…asthma attack. Suppose I may be losing my inheritance after all… but at least I won the game," he smiled faintly.

"Oh no. I'm so sorry, Draco."

"I may be dead…" he contemplated with pricks of tears in his eyes, "I really don't know. But I don't care, I'm glad to see you, Anastasia."

He threw her into another embrace, knocking the breath out of her that she did catch.

"I thought you were mad at me…you were following me that night," she remembered. He pulled away again and took her hand. They began walking, and things began to show up around them. A train track. Some benches. Platform signs.

"Well, I thought for sure you were the heir of Slytherin. I saw you coming out of that knight about a month before, and I thought that's where you were keeping the monster," he laughed. "Feels silly now."

"Oh…" Anastasia said contemplatively. "Can we sit down? I've been walking for a while."

She and Draco took a seat on the bench. He let go of her hand and they blushed.

"I wonder if I am dead, do you think they'll let me keep you company until you wake up?" he pondered out loud.

"I don't want to go back without you," she admitted.

"I'm not sure if I have a choice in the matter…" he drifted off, looking down the long an empty track. "…looks like a one-way ticket at this point. Could you tell my mum something? If you see her, that is?"

"Um…I don't think she likes me very much…"

"I think she knows who you are!" he exclaimed.

"What?"

"I sort of took your locket. The same picture is in there that mum has."

"Oh," she said. "Your mum and my mum were best friends. I've been meaning to tell you. The Friar told me."

"They were?" Draco grinned. "So those are your parents? The people in the picture?"

"Um. Not quite…" she said, "the woman is my mum, but my dad is different."

"So…who is your father?"

Anastasia gave him a nervous side-glance, and then looked down at her lap.

"You don't like him, do you?" he asked. Anastasia waved her hands, flustered.

"No, no, I love my dad, but he's sworn me to secrecy, about my identity that is. He told me he'll wipe the memory of whoever I tell next…and I don't want that to happen to you," she explained, folding her hands in her lap.

"That's not fair," Draco said softly. "Besides, I'm dead right now. Memory wiping shouldn't be a problem." He tried to brush it off with a charming grin.

Anastasia held her self tightly.

"I guess, if it means that much to you, you don't have to tell me," Draco said. "But no matter who you are…no matter who your father is…you're still the best friend I've ever had."

She grinned, and shoulder bumped him.

"You're being sappy."

"I can't be sappy on my deathday?"

"Stop saying that. You're not dead. If I'm not dead, you're not dead."

Draco looked at her nervously. Up until then, he had been joking about his possible death, but reality had started to sink in.

"What do you think we do in in the meantime?" he asked.

"I guess we wait and find out," Anastasia said.

"Do you think there's ice cream in heaven?" Draco asked.

"How do you know you're going there?" Anastasia asked jokingly.

"Drat, I should have been nicer to Granger," he said, semi-sarcastically.

She shook her head in a smile.

"This is serious, don't joke!"

"Well fine. What's it that muggles believe? You can just say you're sorry for the things you've done wrong and then you get in?"

"I mean…some of them do?" Religion wasn't something that Charity had gone over.

"Well, here goes nothing," he climbed to his feet, so he was standing on the bench and stared around at the empty train station, hands on his hips. "Alright God, or Yaweh, or Merlin, whoever is out there managing magic souls! You hear this? I'm sorry for being a twat. I'm sorry for calling people mudbloods and I'm sorry for being mean to Potter and Longbottom and Granger and Weasley, and I'm even sorry for being mean to Dobby! Do you hear that? I'm sorry!"

His last sorry echoed all the way down the train station.

"Do you think he heard me?" Draco asked, mainly to himself, and then sat back down.

Anastasia stared at him with a fantastic grin.

"The thing I'm most sorry about is that I won't have anymore time with you," he said with a darkened expression. "I hope you have a good life."

"Wait…wait you said Dobby…who's Dobby?" Anastasia asked, suddenly remembering.

"I'm trying to be sentimental—"

"Who is Dobby?" she asked, shaking his shoulders.

"Our house elf!" he said. "Our house elf. What's it matter?"

"He knows something," Anastasia said. "He was the one who interfered with the bludger and kept Harry from getting to school. He knows something about the chamber of secrets…you have to go back! You have to ask him."

"What? I-I can't hear you…" he said, rubbing his ears. "Someone's calling me…They're calling me back." Draco said suddenly. "They're calling me back, Anastasia! I hear mum." Anastasia heard nothing.

"I think I have to go…but…don't worry. You're going to be fine. I promise." He hugged her tightly again. "I'll see you in June."

"What month is it now?" Anastasia shouted as he began to fade.

"February!" he called before vanishing into the ether.

Only February. she thought. Only February.

Anastasia wandered again until she found a bench. A bench in a great empty hall alongside a train track. She supposed she could wait there a while.

At least she had a place to sit.

It looked considerably like King's Cross Station.

After sitting and thinking for quite a while, Anastasia's thoughts turned to her mother, her real mother.

She wondered if her mother would be proud of her or disgraced.

It was another long while when someone sat down beside her. Anastasia looked up to find a woman with chocolate curled hair staring down at her with a kind smile.

"My girl," she said warmly.

"Mum!" Anastasia yelled and hugged her mother tightly. "Mum, you're here. Is it really you?" She asked.

"It is me…I've been watching you all this time…I'm so sorry things haven't turned out the way I would have wanted—"

"What do you mean?" Anastasia asked.

"Well, Narcissa was supposed to take you, but she couldn't because…" Holly drifted off, thinking about some unknowable reality.

"Wait, you mean Mrs. Malfoy was going to adopt me?" Anastasia shuddered slightly inside, receiving flashes of what that would have meant for her life.

"That's what godmothers are for, aren't they?"

"My godmother," Anastasia asked, wide eyed.

"You didn't know?" Holly asked. "Hasn't she told you?"

"She's never talked to me." Anastasia clarified. "Actually, the only time she's seen me she looked very angry. I thought she was upset."

Holly's mouth dropped open slightly. Then, she gritted her teeth.

"This won't do."

"You said you've been watching? Didn't you know she hasn't spoken to me?" Anastasia asked. Holly shook her head.

"I only see glimpses…I didn't realize she hasn't been in contact at all. No this simply won't do…" Holly decided and rose to her feet.

"Where are you—"

"Stay right there. I'll be back soon," Holly said, and she vanished.