Chapter 26) No Way Out
Selected Listening: The Dangling Conversation- Simon and Garfunkel
The days passed in an overcast monotone. Anastasia had fallen into a sort of shock. She couldn't cry, but she couldn't smile. She moved through the week in a daze that she couldn't break out of.
Did she really hurt all those people? Did her father really use memory spells on them? Had he really wanted to kill her to save the school and himself?
She wanted to ask, but she didn't want to know the answer, to hear what she saw confirmed. She convinced herself that she wanted to avoid him as much as possible, drown herself in schoolwork, and hope no one would bother her about it.
But as much as she wanted to forget, unearthed feelings couldn't be hidden.
When she went to bed that evening, her head reeled with nightmares, so bad that she woke up screaming, work up all the girls in the room in an ice-cold sweat.
Dementors hovered outside the window.
Anastasia put a silencing spell on her four-post and went back to bed, and the dementors eventually faded away.
"What happened last night?" Hermione asked in the morning. "You must have had a horrible dream."
"It's not anything," Anastasia said. "Only stress."
That afternoon she had Care of Magical Creatures, she descended the slope to where the students were caring for the blast-ended skrewts that Hagrid rearranged the whole class around due to the Buckbeak incident.
Sitting with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Anastasia stuffed food down the throat of her skrewt with tweezers. In the background, she heard Draco vaguely bragging about the outcome of Buckbeak's trial. She did her best to shut out his comments in her head, but instead her mind wandered to the horrible memories of her obscurial past.
Her arm hair stood on end. Goosebumps crept across her skin.
"A-anastasia—" Hermione grabbed her arm and drew her away. The entire class gaped, and Hagrid looked up from where he was attempting to help Neville keep his skrewts from escaping.
"Blimey!" Hagrid shouted, staring at the flock of dementors that had swarmed towards them. The grass turned to ice in their path. "To the castle, all of yeh'! Run!"
Anastasia grabbed her wand but couldn't feel a pure bit of happiness to cast her own spell.
The half-giant pointed his pink umbrella at the demons but couldn't do any magic in front of the students without making more trouble for himself. Crabbe and Goyle were stumbling up the hill first, followed by Pansy, desperately trying to pull Draco towards the school, but he looked frantically at Anastasia. Even if he did run away, it would not change that she could be attacked.
Harry stepped forward to cast his own patronus, but Lupin, who had been taking a walk, beat him to it.
"Expecto patronum!" Lupin yelled.
The dementors scurried away. The students left in awe.
It was after this incident that Lupin brought Anastasia to his office, and recommended she stay inside until she found herself a significant bit more cheerful. He gifted her with a one-pound chocolate bar from Honeydukes.
"Professor Lupin?" she asked, staring at the chocolate bar in gratitude. He might have been the most compassionate and understanding professor they've had till then, but she knew it was rude to ask such a personal question of an elder.
"Yes, Miss Dumbledore?" he responded with a gentle smile.
"Excuse me for saying so, but I couldn't help noticing the clear evidence of your condition—"
His face fell, and he began searching his desk for anything to distract him.
"Did Dumbledore tell you?" he asked unconfidently.
"No, no," Anastasia shook her head, "I found out after Snape's essay assignment."
Lupin growled, "Of course Severus—"
"You two don't get along much, do you?" Anastasia asked, trying to lighten the mood gently. Remus loosened up and sighed.
"He and I were always on the outs. Our friend groups were anyway. Frustratingly, I owe him a great deal now, so I cannot complain much. Even though he's only making the wolfsbane potion because your father asked him to. A great man, your father. If it weren't for him, neither of us would be where we are today," he finished humbly.
Anastasia nodded, so that was the potion Harry saw Snape give to him.
Once again, Anastasia recognized how the peaceful functioning of the school relied on the generosity and mercy of her father, and how closely she had come to losing that mercy. Still, it hadn't been her fault. She had only been a child.
"As someone who has also been a monster, I was wondering if I could hear your perspective on something," Anastasia began again hesitantly. Lupin chuckled.
"The definition of monster is relative, Miss Dumbledore, but you might as well ask since you brought it up," he smiled.
"I found out that when I was an obscurus, I hurt some people. Some students, and Professor Flitwick, and…and grandad."
Lupin nodded, still smiling encouragingly.
"But I did it because I was angry…I felt so angry and hurt and trapped that my magic got the better of me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive grandad for what he did…but I'm even more afraid that I'll never be able to forgive myself, and I'll feel this guilty about what I did forever…I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I wanted out," she stammered.
"I understand that feeling well. I've hurt my share of people in a werewolf state. People that were my friends, and innocent strangers in the way. I've bared my share of guilt over this…"
"How do you live with you yourself? How do you keep going even when it feels like you don't deserve anything you've been given?"
"I've made it my goal to ensure that the good I do when I am myself…overwhelmingly outweighs the pain I create when I am transformed."
Anastasia stared at him for a few minutes longer, and then nodded.
"Thank you…" she said, and turned to leave, but he continued speaking.
"Anastasia—" he started. She stopped walking. "I don't know how bad it was, whatever happened between you and Albus, but if it helps at all…I can see that he cares tremendously for you."
She turned over her shoulder, tears pricking her eyes.
"I'm not sure anymore."
Anastasia thought she could make it through quidditch practice. She couldn't skip. After all, they had the final game of the season coming in only a couple of weeks. The entire team had placed their focus on winning the quidditch cup. Harry had fueled all his anger for Draco's superlative attitude problem into his game, and it was working.
But to Anastasia, the glory of winning the cup had faded like a shiny new toy. No matter what happened, the same cup was going to sit on the shelf in the trophy room, as it always had, only with the name Gryffindor printed on the front.
She tried very hard to only focus on the drills, the plays, and the counterattacks, but with Harry's new firebolt, she wasn't needed nearly enough, and found herself standing on the sidelines staring into space.
Memories of her father's bloodied face came rippling back.
"Team, get down, team! Emergency landing!" Oliver yelled.
The dementors were flocking back onto the field. Harry held them off with his patronus, but it wasn't strong enough to scare them away.
The team took cover in the barracks.
"I don't know what's going on, but this has to stop. We don't have time for this," Oliver said, half-pulling his hair out.
Harry, Fred, and George looked toward Anastasia.
"What is going on?" Harry asked. They all knew about the incidents in the dorm and at class. She looked around at their expectant faces and shook her head.
"There's no time to explain. Oliver's right. I'm in the way right now anyway. You lot keep going. I'll show up to the game in case of an emergency…" she locked her broom away in the closet and walked off.
The boys tried to come back for her later in the dorm. No doubt, they were going to question her for information about why she was so upset. But she didn't feel inclined to tell anyone the truth. So she pretended to be asleep, in the girls room, where they couldn't reach her.
The next day, when Minerva held Anastasia back after class, Anastasia was prepared.
"I know what you're going to say, and I've decided I don't want to become an animagus," she stated plainly. Minerva winced.
"Don't let what Professor Snape said frighten you…it would help you stay safe…if anyone were to come after you—"
"Who's coming after me, Minnie? Voldemort? He's dead! I saw my past, and I've think I've been enough of a monster already without adding mutant illegal powers to the pot. I don't want to become an animagus for the sake of hiding. I've had to hide all my life and I'm done with it!" she hadn't intended to shout, especially at Minerva, but she couldn't take any more risks. Anger flashed in the woman's gaze.
"A monster? Well, I can assure you that out of everything you are, a monster you are not. In the end it is up to you, but animagus can be used for more than hiding," Minerva said with a disapproving glare.
Anastasia left the classroom unsure of her decision, but she was unsure of everything lately.
Later in the week, she sat at the breakfast table with Hermione. Her friend had been slightly more awake than usual, as she had finally quit divination, and could have slightly more time to herself before arithmancy began in the morning.
"Anastasia—" Albus's voice disrupted her train of thought, and she spiraled around to find her father looking down at her apologetically. He didn't usually approach her outside of their living quarters, especially when she was around her friends. "I don't mean to disturb you, but I did want to let you know that Justice Bones will be stopping in around lunch today to provide more information about the trial in June. In the headmaster's suite, if you aren't opposed."
She looked back to Hermione, who stared at her with raised eyebrows, and then at the professor.
"Oh, um, what is there to discuss?" Anastasia asked. "They tried to kidnap me…they can't seriously be—"
Albus nodded as if what she said had no effect on reality.
"They seriously are…so we should all meet together to discuss your…options…" he said, folding his hands together.
Anastasia stared at his back as he walked to the front corner of the room where he entered the passage to return to the headmaster's suite.
"I can't believe it," Hermione said, "they still want custody over you? After all this? How can that even be legal?"
Anastasia shrugged. She didn't know.
Anastasia journeyed to the headmaster's suite at noon, coming through the backway, and descending down the arced staircase to where Albus sat at his desk across from Justice Bones. Anastasia took the remaining chair beside the magistrate.
"Ah, Anastasia, good of you to join us. I was reviewing the state of affairs with Albus. The court date is scheduled for June 15th. We'll be able to settle all of this at that time," she said with a warm smile, but Albus looked ill.
"They still want me?" Anastasia asked. "After everything that happened, they're still trying to get custody? Why aren't they in jail?"
Justice Bones ground her teeth.
"Unfortunately, they were able to weasel their way out of any sort of punishment, claiming that they believed Albus was a harmful influence on you, and that they were only escorting you out of the country for your own good."
Anastasia's jaw hung open. Albus seemed to be growing nauseous.
"But, considering the evidence, and as long as you provide a wholehearted yes to remaining in Albus's custody, there should be no question as to your guardianship—"
"What if—"
"—now as for the paperwork—"
"What if I don't want either of them to be my guardian—" Anastasia said very quickly.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Justice Bones asked, looking back to Albus, who stared guiltily at the table. "Why wouldn't you—"
"Anastasia now knows the whole truth of what happened in her childhood," Albus explained smoothly, as if the grief hadn't touched his eyes. "It is up to her whether she remains with me or not, but I am certain she is uninterested in living with the Cambridges for any length of time."
"Oh…" Justice Bones's previously confident expression lost a bit of its hope. "Well, aren't any other options, unless your godmother wants to take you in."
Anastasia's eyes wandered desperately to the window. Albus, the Cambridges, or Narcissa. She remembered the events of Easter very quickly and shook her head.
"It wouldn't work out," she stated. "Lucius Malfoy hates me, and Draco…" she drifted off, unsure of what to say.
"I agree that it wouldn't be the ideal option," Albus said with a grim smile, "although Narcissa adores you, if it were a possibility, she would have offered it by now."
Anastasia looked back to Justice Bones.
"That's all I've got," the woman offered, palms upraised. Anastasia panicked.
"Can't I just live on my own? I'm at school most of the time anyway. I could spend summers with my friends. Who cares if I have a guardian of my own? Why does it matter?" she demanded.
Albus now looked away at the window. Justice Bones shifted uncomfortably in her chair.
"You must belong to someone until you're seventeen. Who would be responsible for you in an emergency? You're still a minor."
"But I don't understand—" she tried.
"It's the law, Anastasia," Justice Bones said sternly. "Someone must legally be your guardian."
Anastasia began grasping at anyone, anything.
"Could someone else adopt me? A family friend?" she thought immediately of Minerva.
Justice Bones shook her head.
"Both your father, your grandparents, and your godmother would all have to give up a legal claim on you. If Albus did that willingly…and the Cambridges didn't…you would be stuck.
The woman looked awkwardly between the somber father and daughter.
"I'm sorry I don't have better news. Whatever your decision may be…I'll see you at the trial."
Anastasia, wanting to see if she could find anything else that could help her situation, ventured to the library that evening. She searched the racks for anything on custody law when she bumped into a familiar arm.
"Sorry," she apologized, intending to move on from Draco entirely, but he caught her wrist, still not looking at her. She jerked away.
He let go, signaled at her to wait, and then pulled out a piece of parchment and quill that he wrote on without looking, resulting in a sloppily written note.
How are you?
How was she? He hadn't spoken with her for weeks, and yet he asked how she was? And why on a piece of parchment?
She picked up the quill, intending to write something herself, but he grabbed it from her, shooing her hand away.
You speak, he wrote. She didn't quite understand his method, but she was too curious not to try.
"How do you think I am?" she asked. "You shouted at me and then stopped talking to me. On top of that, I found out what caused my obscurus, and I'm not sure I want to stay with grandad anymore. Now I feel horrible and dementors won't leave me alone, so I can't even go outside. Why won't you look at me?"
His shoulders tensed and he continued writing.
My memories. Draco wrote. He'll find them.
Anastasia balked. So this was why he had shirked her off. His father had gone through his memories after the cellar incident. She had been correct in thinking that her headache wasn't only caused by her hangover. She had felt the dregs of a legilimens spell.
"Draco, that's awful," she said softly. His free hand gripped the bookcase with curled knuckles, he turned his face toward the window so she couldn't even see his profile, but he kept writing.
He's bad. Only sees. Can't hear.
Anastasia stared at the back of his blonde head. His father's cruelty didn't make his own any better.
"Is that why you're making fun of Buckbeak every chance you get? Buckbeak is scheduled for execution in a couple of months because of your little stunt. Don't you feel any remorse for killing an innocent animal?"
Didn't know they would take it this far…needed something.
"Needed what?" she asked.
Draco let out a grunt of annoyance.
…to get on father's good side after summer.
"What happened last summer?" Anastasia continued. Draco tensed again, as if at his wits end with her lack of understanding. He started writing and didn't stop for an entire three lines of parchment.
What do you think happened? The papers asked for dirt on you, so he grilled me. He said there's no way that you could be that good at quidditch and alchemy, and that it was only because of nepotism that you made it this far.
"And what did you say then?" she asked curiously. The nib of his quill paused at the beginning of the line a long time before he wrote. He turned slightly towards her. The last bits of sunlight filtered into the library and past his face, casting him in shadow.
I told him you are brilliant.
Anastasia stared at the whisp of his profile.
"Well, what happened then? Did he?"
Stupefied me. Ignored me for a week.
"Did you tell your mum?" she asked. He hesitated before writing.
What she doesn't know won't hurt her.
"But it's okay if it hurts you?" she asked in an outraged whisper.
I'm working on a solution.
Anastasia's heart panged. His sentence reached the end of his spare parchment. Anastasia gently reached forward, took his hand, and turned the parchment face down so an empty page stared up again. She moved his hand to the top of the page.
"So, is this how it's going to be forever?" she asked. "Me having to talk to your back because your father will find me in your memories otherwise?"
Not forever.
Anastasia stared at the piece of paper. She hated that he was as trapped as she was. She wanted to ask him to run away with her, even though she knew it was impossible now. They were too young and high-profile to keep anything like that going for long. As pampered as they were raised, they had no survival skills.
"Certainly not…" she agreed. She would shut him out completely before she continued on like this. But maybe there were ways she could find a solution too…take polyjuice potion spiked with Pansy's hair…or maybe even something easier.
"I have an idea."
What?
It was so ridiculous she couldn't even say it out loud.
"Trust me," she said.
"A—" he almost turned around, but she caught him from around the waist, turning her head aside in his sweatered shoulder.
"Don't talk," she said, "it's not worth the risk. I'll tell you in a month."
Draco nodded and swallowed, placing his hands over her wrists. He didn't pull away.
"Also," she added, "I hope you lose on Saturday…but only by a little bit."
Anastasia took a breath and ran off. The hazy scent of ashwood, mint, and earl gray tea, she avoided thinking about how that scent made her feel so entirely safe.
They could make it on their own…they had to.