Chapter 19) Aberforth and the Trip to Nowhere

Selected Listening: Go to Him- James Newton Howard

Anastasia tumbled out of the floo and into the darkened, empty tavern. It was empty except one man, stockier than her father with a scragglier beard, but the same haunted glow in his eye.

"What are you—" he started, looking up from polishing the bar surface.

"Hello Uncle Aberforth," she said bravely. He nodded.

"Abe is fine."

"Abe, then."

"Did you eat?" he asked. She nodded. "Right…well come on…"

Anastasia trudged into the warm bar and took a seat on the stool across from him. She examined the greyish-brown paneling and the lackluster iron light fixtures dangling about. The portrait of a young girl in a blue dress stared back at her.

"Thought you were supposed to be at the Cambridges," Aberforth remarked.

Anastasia shrugged, not making eye contact.

"That bad, eh?" he asked.

"They expect me to like them because they're my grandparents. I've been meaner to them than anyone else in my life and they still want to put up with me. Isn't that odd?" she asked, hoping her uncle would have some idea of why the Cambridges bothered to ask for custody in the first place.

Aberforth stifled a grin and put the cloth down. He leaned over the bar on his elbows.

"You're probably the opposite of what they were expecting as child of their saintlike Hufflepuff daughter. From the way you talk, I can tell you're quite the handful."

"Often my life calls for being at least somewhat of a handful," she remarked frankly.

Aberforth couldn't hold it back anymore, he laughed, letting it fade off as he stared at the portrait of the girl above the fireplace. As Anastasia examined the portrait more closely, she noticed similarities between this girl and herself, the shape of her nose and the boniness of her elbows, the wavy texture of her hair. She looked back to her Uncle.

"I heard you were supposed to be at the trial…" Anastasia said, "Minerva said she thought it was better that you didn't show…why is that?"

Aberforth's eyes flickered back to her, and then away.

"How much has Albus told you about his younger years?" he asked darkly.

Anastasia shrugged. It was hard for her to imagine grandad as anything but at least one hundred years old. She had never seen pictures of him before he grew out his beard. One time, Minerva mentioned laughingly that he used to prefer three-piece suits, at which Anastasia fell over with giggles.

"Not anything really…"

Aberforth sighed and leaned his head this way and that, debating on how much to give.

"There was a time when I trusted Albus to care for someone who was important to us…due to what was happening at the time, it didn't end well."

Anastasia frowned.

"Was that her?" she asked, pointing to the painting, now dreading the story. Aberforth looked over his shoulder and nodded.

"That was your Aunt Arianna. Our sister."

"Did…did she die?" Anastasia asked hesitantly. Aberforth frowned in pain and nodded.

"She harbored an obscurus, like yourself…turns out it runs in the family…but it wasn't the obscurus that killed her…it was—"

"Grandad?" Anastasia asked, brow furrowed. She couldn't imagine her grandad taking any life, much less the life of his own sister.

"An accident…" Aberforth excused, "an unfortunate accident. He didn't mean to…we still don't know if it was him or his—"

"His who?" she interrupted, chest tightening.

"His partner," Aberforth answered gruffly. "Either way. It wasn't a death spell, it was a stupefy spell, aimed at me, and then bounced off the damn mirror on the wall. Her body was weak from the obscurus…she couldn't take the hit." He lowered his head to stare at his hands.

"Who do you mean partner? Like a business partner?" she asked. "Who was he?"

"He really hasn't told you anything, has he?" Aberforth asked, wincing. Anastasia, hesitant, shook her head.

"I suppose not."

Aberforth frowned, thinking intently.

"It's not my place to tell you about those sorts of things. He can explain when he wants to…if he wants to."

"Oh…" Anastasia drifted off, "okay…" Anastasia didn't realize there was some big secret about her father's early life. Everyone she knew respected him highly, even in light of all the allegations against him, he was considered a figurehead of wizarding society.

"The problem with Arianna was why I wasn't thrilled when I learned of your existence. I thought, wonderful, another little girl he's going to ignore until something dreadful happens," he waved his wand. Two lowball glasses appeared on the counter. One filled with a mysterious amber colored liquid, the other with cranberry fizzy water. Anastasia took a sip of hers and set it down.

"If what you said is true, why didn't you show up at the trial and speak against him—"

"When I saw the article about your obscurus and how it was cured…I realized Albus is trying to make amends. He is taking the steps and precautions with you that he didn't with Ariana…that is why I didn't go speak against him. I told the court I had no more business with my brother and couldn't provide any useful information."

Anastasia stared hopelessly at her Uncle.

"Then why would he refuse to defend himself? You should have seen him, he's never been more…" Anastasia didn't know how to describe it, "…vulnerable."

"I suspect he feels guilty…he already failed once as a guardian…with all this coming out, he's afraid he may fail again."

Aberforth said this in a tone that told Anastasia he would say no more about the subject.

"Then how are we supposed to win the case—"

"It is not you who has to trust him…he has to trust himself…and believe that he can continue raising you without harming you."

After a silence, and the meal, Aberforth broke it first.

"Are you ready to go back?" he asked her. "I can call them for you." She shook her head.

"I want to see grandad first."

At around ten o'clock, Aberforth walked Anastasia back to the castle, holding his patronus light in front of him to fend off the dementors.

"Is that a turtle?" Anastasia asked.

"We don't all get phoenixes…" Aberforth said rather gruffly. Anastasia didn't ask more.

Aberforth walked her all the way up the headmaster's staircase.

"Brought someone for Christmas," Aberforth said as he entered ahead of her in the dining area. Albus looked up from his unfinished game of solitaire, holding his head in his hands.

"Anastasia—"

"Grandad!" she sang as she flung her arms around his neck, knocking him sideways in the breakfast nook.

"You're supposed to be with the Cambridges—you can't stay here," he panicked.

"I couldn't stand being another moment without you," she kissed him on the cheek, scooted into the bench beside him, and waved her wand to shuffle the cards. "I'll go back tomorrow."

Albus's eyes watered with emotion, to which, Anastasia offered a comforting smile.

"Exploding snap anyone? Come on, Uncle Abe. I'll deal you in," she said, and the deck divided into three. Aberforth frowned at the cards and sat down.

"Did you—" Albus began to ask his brother. Aberforth shook his head.

"It was all this little miscreant. Now is she as much of a card shark as you used to be Albus?"

Albus smiled warmly and stretched an arm around her shoulders.

"I believe she's quite surpassed me in that regard."

The next day, they received an unexpected visit in the morning. Amelia Bones arrived by floo.

"Merry Christmas, Amelia!" Albus greeted. "And what brings you hear on this fine morning?"

"You know why I'm here, Albus," she said half-apologetically, half-smiling. She was accompanied by Kingsley Shaklebolt. Anastasia sat on the couch with her gift, a new knitted cardigan, and stared up at the judge in her Christmas clothes—a fashionably ugly sweater with a decorated tree and corduroy pants. Amelia smiled kindly at her.

"You know you have to go back—"

"I don't want to go back," Anastasia said. "They want to send me away to another school. They want to make it so I never see grandad again."

"They what?" Albus asked, startled. "Can they—"

Amelia lifted her hands in exasperation.

"Technically, if they have full custody, they can. I wouldn't be able to do a thing about it, but no matter what, I'm interested in the truth."

"But why—" Albus started.

"It's Lucius Malfoy." Anastasia told him. "You saw it yourself, Justice. He talked to them right before they told me their plan. I think he's threatening them into this and using the lawyers' fees as a bargaining chip."

Kingsley balked. "That's ridiculous! Why would Lucius Malfoy care about where you go to school?"

"Because he hates me! To him, I'm the reason Narcissa's being defamed in the papers, and…and…" Anastasia realized the rest about Draco sounded like silly girlish garbage, so she shut up.

Albus frowned concernedly at her, and then looked to Kingsley.

"I think Anastasia is saying there are multiple reasons why Lucius Malfoy would want her away from Hogwarts. I'm not at all surprised with how he spoke to us at the first trial.

"I see…" Amelia droned off. "I'll look into it, but I'm not sure how much there is I can do. It's not illegal for him to be paying the lawyers' fees for the Cambridges…even so, you must go back to the Cambridges until the end of break."

Anastasia groaned.

"It can't be that bad…" Amelia encouraged, "What have you done so far?"

"Make potions and dig up crops," she stated. Kingsley leaned over Amelia's shoulder.

"That's pretty bad—"

"Look, look, I know they're not the most exciting people…but this is the best compromise I could give considering the situation. Now you must come back with me, and you must spend the entire rest of your break with them. They're willing to forgive what happened last night and move on if you can."

Anastasia sighed.

"Fine," she said, "if I have to."

Albus gave her another heartfelt goodbye, and she flooed with Justice Bones and Kingsley to the Leaky Cauldron. From there, they apparated back to the Cambridges, and Anastasia ran to the bathroom with nausea.

As she turned the faucet off, she could hear Justice Bones talking to them.

"You could at least take her out somewhere fun. She's your granddaughter. Why have custody of her if you don't plan to enjoy her company?"

"I'm not interested in your opinions, Amelia. What we do in our family is our business. You can go now."

There was silence. Anastasia came out of the bathroom to find Amelia staring at her grandparents, lost for words. She looked back up to Anastasia.

"I'll be going now. Merry Christmas," she said sadly, and left.

Anastasia's gloom was relieved minutely as presents were unwrapped. Crenshaw arrived with her presents from Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Her friends had given her new quidditch gloves, Bertie Bots Beans, and a book on New Alchemic Equations. The Weasley's owl swooped in moments later and brought her things from the twins and Ginny: hiccough sweets and a chocolate frog. Finally, Obsidian returned, bearing a sterling silver and diamond snowflake ornament from Narcissa.

She used Obsidian to send the book back to Draco.

Anastasia suffered through the next few days in near silence. She heard her grandparents talk about her mother, and all the ways in which her mother was wonderful when she was young. They barely spoke of her as an adult, even though Anastasia realized she was at least twenty-five when she died, but in their memory, she was always a child.

The strangest thing was that although her sneakoscope hadn't spun at all prior to her leaving, it now whirred all the time, and seemed to be getting faster and faster as the days went on.

"Harry's right," Anastasia said to herself one evening as she was reading and listening to her albums, "these things are on the fritz."

She pulled out the bottom drawer of the desk and tossed the sneakoscope in to get it to stop making noise and heard a thump as it hit the wood. She closed the drawer and sighed.

On the Sunday prior to term starting, Anastasia awoke to find Tamara and Eli cooking a hearty breakfast for once. Of course, it was nothing like breakfast at home, but it did include some whole-wheat waffles beside some roasted turnips. She yawned and sat down at the table that took up the tree-ring table, carved from the middle of the floor.

"Morning, Stasia!" Eli said cheerily, putting a glass down beside her plate, "Have some fresh squeezed juice."

"Nice of you to do all this," Anastasia commented blandly. She had give up trying to make polite conversation. Everything she did as a hobby (alchemy, quidditch, prank assistance) was too dangerous for the Cambridges to want to discuss with her, and she found they weren't interested at all, but nodded and hmmed judgingly until she shut up.

"Yes, well," Tamara added, along with some fresh eggs to her plate, "we supposed you would need a big breakfast being on the train all day. Now eat up. We have to leave rather quickly."

Anastasia looked at the time. It was in fact already 10:15.

"Oh no! We're going to be late!" she said and stuffed down the food and beverage as fast as she could, near bounding to get up to her room to change into her day clothes.

But something happened when she stood up. Her head swelled and she felt as if she might fall over.

"I feel weirsfl—" she couldn't finish the word correctly. And then she couldn't speak at all.

"I'll prep you a steadiness potion for the trip…go and get dressed now."

Somehow, though she didn't think it possible, she found her body going up the stairs to her bedroom. She watched as she got dressed in her muggle clothes, gathered her things, and put them in her bag. She tied the handkerchief around her hand again as a comfort. She remembered her sneakoscope and pulled it out of the drawer, whirring so fast she thought it might explode. It sat beside something new…a journal that had not been there before. Not in the right mind to open it up and examine it, she put it in her bag with the rest of her things. She looked around and said goodbye to the room, and then left.

The Cambridges ushered her to the fireplace, and Tamara handed her the steadiness potion, which didn't seem to do much as they walked through the floo.

Anastasia saw Eli and Tamara Cambridge on either side of her, guiding her through the magic terminal of the Heathrow airport. They had been traveling between floo ports for what seemed like hours. She felt as if she had fallen into a strange dream, felt her rucksack over her shoulders. Saw the wizards lining up to have their wands checked before entering their gates.

On the way out of customs, she spotted a teenage boy with dark skin and a pointed glance. He caught her eye, and then looked to his mother, who dressed in black and wore a lace veil over her face. The boy shook his mother's shoulder and whispered something in her ear. The woman drew the handkerchief away from her dramatized tears and looked up, now analyzing Anastasia.

Help. She tried to say, but her feet wouldn't move in the direction she wanted, nor would her mouth open. She brought her wrapped hand up and brushed her hair back behind her ear.

The Cambridges were next in line to have their wands checked. They handed Anastasia a wand that wasn't hers. She stepped up with them.

The mother and the boy called over a security guard and pointed at Anastasia.

The wizard security rushed at her all at once. The Cambridges were caught by their arms.

"Hello? Miss Dumbledore? Can you 'ear us?"

"She's under an imperio, that one," another commented, "or summat."

Anastasia collapsed.

"No, no, yes, no…they tried to kidnap her," a woman's low voice said quickly, only half the conversation audible, "No, she shouldn't spend any more time with them…"

Anastasia's eyes fluttered open. She lay on a cot in a closet-sized infirmary.

Narcissa Malfoy sat by her side, her wand up to her ear like a telephone.

"Yes, no, yes…thank you. Goodbye."

The woman drew the wand away from her neck and sighed deeply, turning her head gently towards Anastasia.

"Oh good, you're awake," she said simply. As if this were just another Saturday evening.

"What happened?" Anastasia asked bleary eyed, head now all-too clear. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"

Narcissa stared into space a moment, trying to make sense of it herself, clicked her tongue, and turned back to Anastasia.

"Your relations, attempted to smuggle you away to France. And they drugged you with an obedience potion, of all things. The nerve of some people, really! Draco was already stumbling around like a drunk, and I knew something was wrong. I came as soon as I received the floo call from Mercucia. Thank Merlin, Blaise saw you or who knows where you'd be right now!" Narcissa pulled a compact from her dress and began fixing her foundation powder.

"Oh…" Anastasia murmured, "…thank you."

Narcissa didn't acknowledge her response, fluffing her hair in the tiny mirror.

"And what's more, I've called Justice Bones. She said they would be able to bar them from seeing you until the final trial in May."

"Thank you, thank you very much," Anastasia said a bit more confidently, although she felt like crying. Drugged and nearly smuggled to France? Did these grandparents of hers not care at all? Narcissa waved off her show of gratefulness.

"Oh, it isn't a problem dear. I've wanted to stop this nasty trial since it started, so this gave me the ticket to do something about it. Could you imagine? You and Draco going to different schools under a lifeline spell…it'd be impossible! No, no, no, it just won't do. You're much better off under the care of your father, even if he is a little batty."

Anastasia stared away, feeling quite hopeless. Despite their spines, she was hoping the Cambridges cared for her, if only in light of their daughter's death. But how could she justify something like this?

To keep herself from dwelling, she turned her attention to other people's problems.

"Is it true what he said? That Draco will lose all his family wards once the divorce happens? There's no spell or potion that could help…"

Narcissa paused in her makeup repairs and folded the mirror away, staring sadly at her hands.

"No. Any attempts at a child keeping wards beyond a marriage's expiration date end in death. By magical law, he'll be considered a bastard child. and that's simply not something Lucius and I are willing to risk for him despite how we detest each other…which is why this whole process is taking so long…we are trying to find another way. He cannot remain the Malfoy heir without the wards."

Narcissa looked down at the handkerchief on Anastasia's hand and smiled gently.

"I see you've been in touch."

"Oh, um, this…I-um…" she looked quickly for a place to tuck it away.

"No need to explain, dear. It's a tradition in my family for all the children to receive one. Of course, boys don't care about such things. I think it's been stowed away in his sock drawer for years…good thing he found a use for it. Otherwise, we might not have found you today."

Anastasia stayed silent. She wasn't sure how to react to Narcissa's kindness, or her words. Narcissa smoothed a lock of Anastasia's hair. Anastasia flinched slightly at the casual touch, but then settled, and even felt warm.

"Nothing to worry about with the wards, pet. I won't attempt any magic that could put his life or yours at risk. Now, let's get you back home, shall we?"

Anastasia stared at her godmother's beautiful face. She didn't know how this woman could be so kind and loving, and yet be married to a monster. How she could be so instantly protective of a girl she had spoken to twice, and yet Anastasia's own grandparents treated her so horribly?

Narcissa led her to the entrance to the magical side of the Heathrow airport. Albus waited for her there in the fleeting sunlight. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder as she took her place beside him. He gave Narcissa a grateful nod, she returned his greeting and faced Anastasia.

"So good to see you again, dear. Please, take care. I would like to see you in one piece, and not entirely in danger next time," she said.

And Narcissa disappeared with a pop.

Albus wrapped Anastasia in a hug and held her for a long time against his velvet robes. Anastasia took a deep breath, enveloped in the lemon and licorice scent that always coated his belongings.

"Let's go home."