Chapter 6) The Darkness Within

Selected Listening: A Window to the Past- John Williams

In the evening, after shopping, the girls gathered in Anastasia's room with the spa materials Ginny had bought from the apothecary that afternoon. There were magical facemasks and hair treatments that were supposed to do anti-frizzing, mattifying, and pore-shrinking. Hermione sat cross-legged in front of it the tall mirror, with Anastasia behind her, attempting to braid the girl's long curly hair so that the conditioning treatment would set. Anastasia soaked one strand of Hermione's hair in the potion at a time and begin to braid, but the lock would spring out of its hold almost immediately.

"Oh, that's simply not going to work," the mirror commented. "You need to embrace your natural beauty…or buy a double batch next time."

Ginny watched their lack of progress while lounging on the bed with Hermione's new cat, Crookshanks. Occasionally, Ginny would make eye contact with Stasia in the mirror with a wary expression.

"What, Ginny?" Anastasia asked. "I know there's something on your mind, might as well be out with it."

Ginny sighed and sat up.

"So, in the article about the obscurus cure, it said Newt's subject had two—"

Anastasia froze in her work.

"Uh-huh…" she said and continued braiding as Hermione stared sadly into the mirror.

"One, is the obscurus subject really you? And if it is, how recent was the last one?"

Hermione broke away and turned to face her.

"Look…yes, it's me. What Rita wrote was true…but like I said to her, I don't even remember the first one—"

"But you remember the second one?" Hermione asked expectantly.

Anastasia glanced between them, unsure of how to proceed. She didn't know how they would react to hearing that Draco Malfoy was the only reason she didn't spiral into a destructive rampage. Ginny, seeing her hesitation, began to ramble.

"Anastasia, look, it's fine. A lot of people heard about the potion exploding in Snape's class last year, and when I read the article, I figured that had to have been what it was…I wanted to say that I think it's brave that you said anything about it. I mean…if anyone asked me about what happened last year—" she paused for a moment, "—well, then I wouldn't tell them anything."

"I don't know anything about a potion…" Anastasia drifted off, "all I remember is being sad and scared and angry, and all I wanted was to be back with all of you, but I couldn't do anything about it…I felt like I was trapped in my own body."

"Weird things started happening around school," Hermione said, "that potion exploded right in front of me where you usually sit, and I kept seeing shadows…a lot of the time I thought I was being paranoid about the heir of Slytherin."

Ginny took a sharp breath in.

"Voldemort told me to kill you…" she said, heaving a burden off with her breath. "He told me to kill you with my own hands if I had to, because you kept suggesting that I should find more friends, and he was jealous…and then you caught me coming up the stairs with the chicken blood…and he told me to send the basilisk."

The Weasley girl's voice cracked.

"Oh Ginny…" Anastasia rose to her feet.

"…and then 'Mione, I heard you studying with Penelope, and I knew you two were close to finding out about the Basilisk, so I had to set it on you two as well…I didn't want to hurt anyone…"

She sobbed into her hands. The older girls gathered round the youngest and held her between them. In all her own life drama, Anastasia had forgotten that Ginny had been possessed by Voldemort herself. That monster had ruined her first school year from beyond the grave.

"It's okay, Ginny. We forgive you…it's not your fault," Anastasia whispered. Hermione nodded.

"You're safe now."

Ginny nodded. "I knew I was safe as soon as Harry woke me, but that doesn't make me feel any better about what I did."

They hugged Ginny tighter and sat silently for a moment, processing the enormity of the previous school year.

"I didn't hurt anyone, did I?" Anastasia asked the girls. "When the obscurus started?"

Hermione winced.

"There were minor injuries…a few cuts and burns from the potion…but it all stopped so fast. Why did the obscurus leave?" she asked.

Anastasia stared off to the corner of the room, remembering how Draco found her and walked her back to the light and the warmth of the train station between realms, how he sat there with her waiting for his own death or revival, and they genuinely enjoyed being together for a moment.

"It doesn't matter," Anastasia said, and buttoned her lip.

"But it does—" Hermione started, always the inquisitive one.

"She doesn't have to say," Ginny reminded.

Hermione didn't ask again, but every once in a while, Anastasia caught her anxious stare.

The next day, the troops gathered their bags and met downstairs in the tavern. Mr. Weasley looked over each of his children, asking them questions to make sure they had everything. All the while, Molly fussed about, straightening their clothes and their hair the way she wanted. When she finally reached Anastasia, she examined her with a concerned frown.

"Is that all you have, dear?" she asked, gesturing to her backpack. Anastasia nodded.

"Extension charm. Crenshaw's already flown home."

"Home, right, well good." Molly patted her on the shoulder.

"The Ministry cars are waiting outside. They are on loan to us to reach King's Cross," Arthur interrupted.

"Dad, why would they loan a bunch of muggle cars to us? After you know, last year?" Ron asked.

"Well, they know there's a lot of us, and we have some…" he looked to the end of the line where Harry and Anastasia stood, "…precious cargo. Off we go!"

The last time Anastasia had been in a car was the previous summer when she had gone with the Grangers to Australia and back. She had to admit that the ministry driver was much better than Mr. Granger at avoiding traffic and driving deliberately. She sat squeezed between Fred and George with Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting in front of them. Ginny and Percy were in the other car with Molly and Arthur.

When they had been driving for a few minutes, Fred reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrinkled brown paper bag.

"We almost forgot," he said, handing her the lump.

"We got you a souvenir!" George sang.

Anastasia smiled, reached in the bag, and pulled out a figurine. It was a smooth, red wooden carving: a dog of some sort, with pointed ears and a long fluffy tail.

"It's a Jackal," Fred explained, "said to bring you good luck."

"Or guide you to the underworld," George added.

"We forget which!" Then they both smiled.

"Oh, well, thank you?" Anastasia grinned.

When they reached the train station, the platform was bustling with students, except this time, Anastasia noticed that more eyes were following her as she walked with her friends to load their trunks onto the storage compartment. She spotted the Malfoys from afar. They were having a quiet, stern goodbye. Draco allowed Lucius to place a supportive hand on his shoulder, but when Narcissa went to embrace him, Draco broke away from his family and ran to catch up with his friends.

Anastasia felt bad for them.

A warning whistle sounded.

"It's nearly eleven!" Hermione exclaimed. "Come on. Come on!" she rushed Ron and Harry to put their things with the luggage, and the four of them ran to board the train. It seemed every compartment was full, save for one in the very back, in which, a rugged looking man lay passed out in the corner. His brown hair was ruffled across his face, which had several scars streaking across it. His tawny suit crumpled around his entire body as if he had been picked out of the rubbish that morning.

"Who is this bloke?" Ron asked. Hermione responded smartly by reading the man's trunk.

"R.J. Lupin."

"This must be who grandad hired to replace Lockhart," Anastasia observed. She vaguely remembered the name Remus Lupin from Albus's mentions of the Order, but nothing particularly special about him. Knowing about the cursed defense position, Anastasia could only wonder one thing:

What was wrong with this one?

At eleven, the train jolted out of the station and began streaming across the countryside. Verdant hills filled with sheep sped by. The candy trolley passed, and they bought a few spoils, which they began sharing readily. They had been sitting there for quite a few hours when a cold set over them.

"It's freezing in here," Hermione complained, rubbing the sleeves of her sweater.

As ice grew in on the window, the train shuddered still.

"Why are we stopping…" Ron wondered out loud. "Why's the train stopped?"

"Anastasia, what's going on?" Harry asked as if she should know. She rose to her feet.

"I'll go ask…" she said and moved to open the compartment door.

Anastasia took one step out into the hall and looked down the long way to the front. She saw other students' heads poke out. The lights flickered, and then dimmed completely.

Willowy shadows moved down the hall towards them. Dread filled her stomach.

Anastasia ducked back inside and slammed the door.

"Dementors. The dementors boarded the train," she said, "hold still and be quiet."

She reclaimed her seat next to Hermione and froze.

The dementors swept them like a looming dust storm, filling every molecule of Anastasia's being with despair.

Then her thoughts began to race.

Why was she the way she was? She didn't want to be an experiment. She didn't want to be the unwanted child of an old man. She didn't want to be hidden for thirteen years because of her godmother's shame.

But here she was.

One long, cloaked shadow cast itself in the compartment window. Anastasia's heart knit up in her chest and she clutched her sternum, drawing ragged breaths. The being slid the door open with a creak.

She didn't want to become a liar and a thief her first years at school. She didn't want to be kidnapped by poachers and threatened at knife point in a foreign country. She didn't want to—

A flash of pain entered her mind. She grabbed her head as the icy sensation washed over her. She felt herself lash out, saw the terrified face of Albus staring up at her, hands outstretched, streaks of blood across his face.

"Anastasia, please."

But then, like radio interference, a cruel voice sliced through the vision.

"You lied to me! You lied to us. You lied to the whole world—"

"I did what I had to—to protect our family," a lower voice, feminine.

"You didn't have to do any of that—"

"Yes, I did, because—"

Harry's scream broke her vision. She felt Hermione shaking her shoulder.

"Anastasia, Stasia, are you in there?"

When Anastasia regained her sight, the light had come back on. She was still sitting in her seat. Harry had fallen onto the floor in front of her. Lupin and Ron were helping Harry regain his footing.

"Come on now, that's it," Lupin said in a rich tenor, getting him back into his seat. "You're alright now.

"What happened? Are they gone?" Anastasia asked.

"He did something," Ron gestured to Lupin. "Scared 'em off."

"That, Mr. Weasley was a patronus charm. Now, Mr. Potter, here is some chocolate," he stuffed a quarter of a bar into Harry's hands, "and I think you could use some too, Miss Dumbledore."

Lupin frowned at her concernedly as he handed her another quarter.

Anastasia looked at the chocolate in her palms. The fantastic scent of cocoa hit her palate, but enough time with Fred and George taught her to be wary.

"Is it enchanted?" she asked.

"As enchanted as chocolate normally is, I suppose. Warms you up from the inside out," Lupin exclaimed.

Anastasia bit into her chocolate and found it quite satisfying, but she couldn't shake the awful feelings the dementors had drawn up from inside her. She reached into the pocket of her corduroy dress with her other hand and squeezed the totem the twins had given her.

"Who was screaming?" Harry asked between bites. "I heard a woman screaming."

"No one was screaming, Harry," Hermione said gently.

"Well…" Ron hummed and eyed Anastasia nervously, "…you yelled."

"I yelled something?" Anastasia asked, mortified that the new teacher saw her have an episode she hadn't even expected.

Hermione nodded.

"You said, 'Let me out,' but it wasn't your usual tone." Hermione said, "it was lower."

"It sounded like you were about to kill someone," Ron said point-blank. "Like an obscurus."

"Ronald," Hermione scolded quietly.

Anastasia stared wide-eyed. Was what she saw really an obscurus memory?

"But I heard a woman scream my name." Harry said, "it wasn't Anastasia."

"Dementors feed on happiness," Lupin said suddenly, "they suck the cheer out of us quickly leaving us only with our darkest moments. It's no wonder the two of you had bad reactions."

Lupin placed his hands on his knees, groaned, and stood up, stretching.

"Now, if you'll excuse me. I must have a word with the conductor."

Their conversation drifted back to Sirius Black and the precautions Hogwarts was taking. Anastasia's thoughts hovered over the other voices in her vision, familiar enough for her to notice, but not clear enough for her to determine who it was. Still, she had a feeling…

"If Dumbledore thinks Sirius Black poses enough threat to keep dementors on campus, he must be after something important," Ron said, clutching Scabbers and petting him protectively as Crookshanks glowered across the compartment.

"It's me…he wants me…" Harry said vaguely and explained what he overheard Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking about the night before, and what Mr. Weasley told him at the train station.

"The Minister is forcing us to have dementors on school property," Anastasia told them. "Grandad doesn't want them. He knows enough wards on his own to keep Black at bay."

"Still, if not even Azkaban could hold him in…how's this going to help us?" Ron asked.

"I don't believe it will," she replied.

Anastasia couldn't explain to the others how much of a danger the dementors posed to her. Mainly because of the lifeline spell. If a dementor sucked out her soul, someone else would suffer too. Although Draco was horrible sometimes, he didn't deserve to die for her.

"Stop following me," a familiar voice said in the hall. Anastasia's ears perked up.

"What's wrong with being worried? You—"

"I'm going to the loo, Parkinson. Go back to the compartment and leave me alone! I'm fine!"

The lighter pair of footsteps walked away in a huff while the others tread closer. Anastasia looked out the compartment window and made brief eye contact with Draco as he passed, a little too intense to have been unintentional.

The lifeline could transmit pain and symptoms, but in that moment, she prayed that it couldn't transmit thoughts. That Draco hadn't seen what she had when the dementors attacked. Yet she had heard more voices than Albus's, and she was almost certain who they'd belonged to.

Anastasia looked back to her hands, partially stained with chocolate.

"I should wash up," she said nonchalantly and left the compartment.

At the end of the train cart there were restroom stalls, one on the right for girls, one on the left for boys. Draco disappeared into the left and slammed the door behind him. Anastasia turned into the girls' room but left the door open as she washed her hands.

When Draco came out, she spun to meet him in the hall. They hadn't spoken since he teased her in the Alley, but the intensity of that conversation still lingered in his gaze.

"What do you want, Dumblebrat?" he said, seeming to forget that he was the one who went looking for her.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Course, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" he asked defensively.

Anastasia paused.

"I thought maybe the lifeline—"

"I didn't feel anything worse than anyone else, if that's what you're asking," he said, folding his arms and looking away.

"Everyone had a different reaction. Harry fainted, and I—"

"What? No way! Potter fainted!" Draco grinned ecstatically. She saw the impish gleam in his eye and knew exactly what he was thinking.

"No, no don't tell anyone," Anastasia said, panicking. "I'm trying to ask you—"

"Later, Dumblebrat!" he chimed and tried to run, but she grabbed his shirt sleeve. She hated the glass front he was putting up. She hated that his attempts to push her away made their every interaction feel like a ticking timebomb, and she yearned to shatter it with anything.

"I heard your parents," she said. "When the dementors attacked, I heard your parents arguing, did you hear them?"

Draco froze, he turned over his shoulder, and the pallid color tinted his cheeks. He glared.

"I have no bloody clue what you're talking about," he said, ripped his sleeve away, and sprinted down the corridor.