Chapter 8) The Monster

Selected Listening: Secrets of the Castle- John Williams

Anastasia returned to the common room, arm aching, hoping to tell Hermione about the court order. When she entered, she found the room filled with friends catching up and doing homework and laughing, but her own were nowhere in sight.

"Anastasia!" Fred and George called from their group with Lee Jordan by the fireplace.

She trudged over to them.

"Have you seen Hermione?" she asked. She would have included Harry or Ron in that statement if she had hope they would want to listen to her. But she doubted they cared.

"They went down to make sure Hagrid doesn't drink himself into a hangover before tomorrow's lesson," George said with a smirk.

Anastasia scoffed and folded her arms.

"I warned grandad before he hired him, that he has a drinking habit." Anastasia had seen this firsthand when she was young, sometimes hanging out with Hagrid for an entire day, helping him take care of campus animals during the break. She had seen the man start with a mug of hot mead in the morning, transition to cold mead in the afternoon, and finish with another hot mead before bed.

"All the teachers have a drinking habit," Lee Jordan remarked grinningly. "With students like us around?"

"Some drink a little," said George.

"Some drink a lot," said Fred.

"And some are not very good at hiding it," Lee Jordan finished in a sing-song tone.

"Well, that's the part I'm worried about," she lied as she sat down cross-legged next to Lee, who thankfully didn't shirk away from her. She wasn't actually worried about Hagrid. She was worried about her friends, and how they'd all seemed to abandon her. She should have never talked to Draco on the blasted train.

"You look a little like you could use a drinking habit," George remarked. "I think we still have a little bit—"

Fred smacked his brother's leg.

"Don't poison the youth," he said.

"You drink?" Anastasia asked in a whisper, aware that Percy was across the room, studying for NEWTS. "You're only fifteen."

"Oh, don't act so surprised," George said. "You'll start to sound like Hermione."

"Yeah, you think people wait around till they're seventeen here to start getting trashed?" Fred asked with a grin.

"But your brother's head boy," she whispered. The twins looked over their shoulders at Percy, and then back to her and Lee.

"All the more reason," George commented.

"If you ever want some, Stasia, we have a whole trunk—" Lee began. She simply shook her head.

"I'm good. I'm good really. Just tired," she said sadly.

"What's got you down?" Fred asked.

Anastasia looked around at their supportive faces and couldn't help but feel safe.

"My grandparents…my mother's parents want full custody of me. They're saying grandad mistreated me."

Fred and George raised their eyebrows and leaned in to hear more.

"No way!" They chimed without much surprise.

"Because of the obscurus thing?" Lee asked, frowning. "It's no wonder. They're said to be harbored in kids who have seen some real rubbish—who have been taught to hate themselves…and to have one twice."

Anastasia sighed.

"Well, that's the problem. I don't remember the first time. I don't really know why I had one in the first place," she said. "And I've never really hated myself. At least, I don't think I have."

"Did you have one when we first met?" Fred asked.

"Wouldn't be surprised, considering we found you in a wall," George added.

Anastasia shook her head, "No, that was after the first one. Grandad said he had to take my memories to keep us safe."

The three worriedly looked at each other.

"That's not a good sign," Fred said.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Lee Jordan continued.

"Most obscurus are found in magics who are having their magic suppressed from an early age. Usually, they're from religious or superstitious muggleborn families. There's a lot in small African villages. I've read about them…" he hesitated, "but that means the main cause of them is—"

"The parents," George finished. "The parents teach them to hate themselves because of their magic, and then they combust because they can't let themselves express it."

"Oh…" Anastasia said solemnly. She could hardly think of a time when Albus was mean to her, or when he was so cruel she turned into a monster.

"I think," Fred suggested, "that you should ask Dumbledore for your memories back."

"Why?" she asked.

"Because that's the only way you'll know for sure…" George continued.

"Whether it's his fault." Lee finished.

Anastasia drew back, frowning quietly. She didn't know if she wanted her memories back. If Albus was afraid it could cause her to create another obscurus, why risk it?

Around that time that Harry, Ron, and Hermione came through the porthole. Anastasia went to greet them. They were arguing about how much Harry should stay inside with Black chasing after him. They all stopped talking when she approached.

"How'd it go?" Anastasia asked. "Is Hagrid okay?"

"Fine as he can be," Harry replied shortly.

"How'd it go with Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked.

"There's no way he's letting Hagrid get sacked, so we have nothing to worry about there. Even if Malfoy tries to pull something," Anastasia answered.

"Dumbledore sure has an interesting opinion of what there is to worry about," Ron said stiffly and moved past her.

Anastasia spiraled around, fuming.

"I don't appreciate your tone, Ron!" she said. Hermione and Harry surrounded them, both baffled as to what to say or do.

Ron turned over his shoulder and shouted.

"Well, you know what I don't appreciate? Our headmaster having a child who was infected with a monster that everyone knows is incurable and dangerous running around our school for two years and acting like there's nothing wrong!"

The room froze. Anastasia held her ground.

"Ronald!" Hermione chastised. Harry's jaw opened and closed like a fish as he looked back and forth between his friends.

Percy had approached the group, a tiny toy soldier.

"Ron, you're out of line," he said resolutely.

"Yeah, Ron!" Seamus shouted. "Are you trying to get us all killed?"

"Shut your mouth, Finnegan!" Fred countered.

"Or we'll shut it for you!" finished George.

The common room ascended into a chaos that was only disrupted when Percy pulled his wand and fired a train whistle out the end.

The room silenced.

"Forty points from Gryffindor for arguing and blatant disrespect…and ten extra for you Ron for starting it," Percy said.

Anastasia shrunk inward as people groaned and complained and tried to go back to their homework. She fled the room before anyone could say a thing more and went immediately to bed.

"Anastasia, wake up." Hermione shook her shoulder, jolting her from a string of nightmares where everyone had been shouting at her.

"What?" she asked bleary eyed.

"We're going to be late, come on."

"Oh," Anastasia said, wondering if she should pretend to be ill, but finally urging herself to put on her clothing, brush her hair, and follow the impatient Hermione.

A few students were already leaving for class when they arrived at the Great Hall, including Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff. He spotted the two girls and walked over to them.

"Hermione, great, I need to talk to you—" Justin said.

"Can it wait? I need to eat breakfast," Hermione protested.

"It'll only take a minute…" he took Hermione's arm and pulled her aside. Anastasia tried to follow, but Justin glared at her. "Privately."

Anastasia turned away and wandered into the emptying hall. She ignored Ron, didn't make eye contact with Harry, and sat down a little further than speaking distance from them, grabbing some toast from the stack.

At the next table over, Draco languished over his wrapped arm as the Slytherin girls fawned over him. Anastasia pulled up her sleeve and checked her own, it had returned to normal…he was hamming it up.

"Does it hurt terribly, Draco?" Pansy asked in a tragic tone.

So quickly, Anastasia thought she might have imagined it, Draco caught her gaze and winked at her. Then, he turned back to his arm.

"It comes and goes," he said as sadly as if his arm had been ripped off from the joint. Anastasia scoffed.

Hermione came back in and sat in the wide space between Harry and her.

"What was that about?" Anastasia asked. "Was he asking you on a date because he found your notes so attractive?"

"Who?!" Ron asked.

"No…it doesn't matter…don't worry about it," Hermione said lamely, but guilt lingered in her gaze.

"Who is it, Anastasia?" Ron asked with a grin as if nothing was wrong. Anastasia glared and looked back to her toast.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to a monster," she replied.

"I-I didn't—" he started.

"You didn't what?" she asked.

"I didn't call you a monster," he said, "I said you were infected with one, and that there's no known cure—"

"Well, I'm cured!" she said, standing and grabbing her toast. "And if you had read any part of the Monster Book of Monsters, you'd know the definition of monster is relative."

They had potions first, and although the seating chart for that class had already been decided by their last names at the beginning of first year, Anastasia's had changed, and so she approached the desk to ask Snape about it.

"Hello Professor, did you have a good summer?" she asked as politely as she could.

Snape raised his head and a stern eyebrow at her.

"What do you want, Green?" he asked, using her muggleborn pseudonym.

"Oh, um, well, I was wondering if you need me to change spots now that my last name is different? It's Dumbledore, legally," she corrected. "I know you prefer alphabetical order for seating charts, so I think I would go next to Lavender…and then everyone else would be shifted back one."

He glared at her as if this was not how he expected the morning to go. She overheard the Slytherins giggling at her pedantic question.

"The only Dumbledore I am aware of is my employer. As you are not, I will refer to you and seat you by the name copied onto my roster by the quill of acceptance and the book of admittance," he turned his parchment around for the course period and pointed to her last name.

"But it's not my—"

"Furthermore, I don't believe there's any more reason to waste class time on this, as we should have started one minute and thirty seconds ago," he rose from his seat.

"But Professor I don't want to go by—"

"Sit…five points from Gryffindor."

Anastasia glared at him and took her seat next to Hermione.

"But—" Hermione started, trying to defend her, but Anastasia grabbed her friend's wrist to tell her to stop. It wasn't worth losing more points over.

"So, shrinking solutions—"

After potions, they had charms. Flitwick didn't have any trouble calling Anastasia by the proper name, but he now seemed to wince anytime she raised her wand, even though they were only doing freezing spells on dung beetles.

"Glaci—"

"That's enough, Miss Dumbledore," Flitwick put his hand on top of her wand to make her put it down.

"But I haven't even done the spell yet—"

"I'm sure you've got it, full marks…" he said and went to the next Gryffindor in line to be checked off.

She and Hermione shared a disbelieving glance.

After charms, they had an awkward lunch, in which Anastasia and Ron continued not speaking to each other.

"You need to talk to Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said as they ate their sandwiches. Again, she looked ragged, as if she had run a race all morning. "If the teachers are treating you strangely out of favoritism…or in Snape's case lack of favoritism, it could really mess up your record."

"No kidding," Harry commented, "it's not like we haven't already been dealing with Snape's lack of favoritism."

"I'll see grandad Sunday night, for dinner. I'll let him know then," she said sadly picking at her food. "Although, I'm afraid in Snape's case, it will make him hate me more."

"It's the principle of the thing, Anastasia," Hermione lectured, "Snape should have enough respect for their students to use their preferred name. Everyone else is."

Anastasia still wanted to tell Hermione about the upcoming trial, but she knew she couldn't in front of Ron. She pulled out her copy of The Little Princess and continued her reading.

"Are you still reading muggle literature?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," she said, "I quite enjoy it."

"If you enjoy it, why aren't you in muggle studies?" Hermione asked. "Professor Burbage would love to have you there."

Anastasia frowned at Hermione and closed the book. She was speaking as if she'd been there before.

"Well one, it's during arithmancy…" she said suspiciously, "and two…I was required to study it for most of my life…I already know all the content through seventh year…I could take the NEWTS today if I had to."

"That's impossible…" Hermione said.

"Do you know how to drive a stick shift automobile or prepare your income taxes?" Anastasia asked.

"No, of course not…"

"Well, you would learn more than me if you were in that class, which is impossible because we're both in arithmancy."

"Wait?" Ron interrupted. "How are you in arithmancy with her? You're in divination with us!"

"Hermione, did McGonagall fix your schedule at all?" Harry asked.

Hermione seemed to grow impatient with their comments on her schedule and found something else to pick at as a distraction.

"The class isn't only about that…it's about discussing current events that deal with the sociopolitical context between muggles and magic kind. Stuff we can really use to make a difference—"

"I'm sure that's all very useful, Hermione, but all I want to do right now is survive the school year with my current courses. I'm swamped with personal grievances as it is," Anastasia interrupted, side-eyeing Ron.

"Well, maybe you wouldn't have as many grievances if you had any compassion for the community you took advantage of!" Hermione yelled, grabbed her things, and ran off to Defense Against the Dark Arts.

It seemed to come out of nowhere. Hermione had never complained about her involvement in muggle culture before.

"I swear, all the girls are going barmy, Harry," Ron said, "getting new identities, maxing out their schedules, buying cats!" Harry didn't respond.

Anastasia knew couldn't have helped any of the things Hermione or Ron had mentioned in the previous day. She picked up her book again, intending to finish another chapter before class with Professor Lupin, but she couldn't keep reading. Inside, she felt broken.