Chapter 27) Clever

Selected Listening: Willows- Vanessa Carlton

Anastasia knew if she told Minerva she planned on running away after transforming into an animagus, that she would break the professor's heart.

It was something she tried not to think too hard about as she smoothed things over.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted the other day, Minerva. I was out of sorts," she said, folding her hands together in the sweetest most unassuming way.

Minerva looked up from her books with a grim smile.

"Albus told me what happened. I'm glad you finally have all the information, but I know it's a lot to process. I shouldn't have pushed you."

Anastasia smiled back, genuinely happy that Minerva cared enough to give her grace, and hopeful that one day she could forgive her.

"Well, I'm mostly in the right mind again, and I was thinking I really would like to try the animagus process one more time." It was only a half-lie. Her memories had been haunting her less often recently, but still came back at least twice a day. She still didn't want to risk going outside and interfering with quidditch or lessons.

"Are you certain? This is a magical process where you can't try you must do. If you fail, the results will be disastrous...and with your current emotional condition, I'd be afraid that something might happen to you along the way."

Anastasia thought about what she had to do and made her final decision.

"I'm certain."

Minerva stood and walked to her potion's cabinet.

"You're in luck. The full moon is tonight," she took out the illness potion and the mandrake leaf. "Put it under your tongue tonight and meet me for another potion session next month."

Anastasia walked down the hall and found it empty. She had missed the passing period to the next class and was now late for charms. Perfect. Less spectators for her to deal with, and Flitwick wouldn't ask questions.

She pulled off to the side of the hall in a small alcove, took out the vial of coughing potion, and began to drink it down. She was only about halfway through when—

"Hallo!" George popped in the entryway.

"Whatcha got there?" Fred asked with a grin as she scrambled to cork the half-drunk potion into her bag.

"Nothing—" she coughed, "it's nothing."

The twins looked at each other, eyes wide and gleaming.

"Look, you wouldn't understand. So just drop it, okay?" she tried.

"Maybe we will," George said smartly.

"And maybe we'll have to tell the teachers how you've gotten out of answering questions in class for so long," Fred said.

She couldn't risk getting in trouble for the animagus potion.

"Okay, okay! What do you want?!" she asked. The two smiled mischievously. Pacing to stand in front of her on either side, three feet of space between them.

"Actually, we only stopped you to ask what's been up with you lately," Fred said lightly.

"Up with me?" she asked.

"Blimey, Anastasia, we might not be Hermione, but something's obviously got your ghoul," George continued, leaning back against the wall.

"And it's not like you're the only student at school attracting dementors or anything—" Fred pointed out.

Anastasia folded her arms and turned inward. She hadn't wanted to tell her friends anything about her obscurus memories and what she found. She was afraid if she said something, they would be too afraid to be around her. She had already become overly apologetic and timid in Flitwick's class, now realizing why he was so afraid of her earlier in the year. She didn't want everyone to wince in fear when they saw her.

But the twins had been her friends since the beginning…and they obviously weren't letting her go until she spilled the beans. She spoke between coughs.

"Remember how Lee Jordan said someone with an obscurus would have had to suffer through some severe abuse to conjure one?" she asked.

The twins' faces of joy and mischief fell. They nodded solemnly. She continued.

"I finally know what caused my first obscurus, and I keep remembering all the horrible things that happened the first time, and I can't stop remembering, even though I'd rather push it out of my mind forever. Plus, I'm not sure how the court case is going to pan out…I'm not even sure who I want to be my parent."

Fred and George looked at each other in shared understanding.

"Oh…" they said at the same time, not having any jokes that would be appropriate for the situation.

"So there…" she finished. "Happy?"

"But you're making yourself sick with this potion," Fred asked, gesturing to her bag, almost cross with her, "why?"

Anastasia looked down at her shoes, face flushed. She didn't know what to say. She knew she could trust them, but she was afraid that if she told them what she was up to, they would want in, and it was too dangerous. Plus, she couldn't let anyone know about her escape plan. It would hurt them too.

"I can't explain right now," Anastasia said guiltily. "It's not that big a deal. I'll be fine."

"But you can explain, can't you?" George pressed. "You just don't want to."

"Anastasia, if this has anything to do with that git Malfoy—" Fred started.

"Why—" she hacked, "would you think that?" she paused, waiting for his response. She didn't understand why his tone made her want to fight him. What did it matter if it had something to do with Draco?

"Harry told us how massively upset you were when you came back from Easter. Hermione thinks you two had a fight. Does he have anything to do with this?" Fred asked.

Anastasia shook her head.

"It's none of your business." Her voice went out on the last word.

"One last thing," George said, swiping her bag pocket open and grabbing the last of the potion. She tried to yell at him, but she couldn't, so instead jumped to grab it from his hand. Too short. Fred smirked as his brother yelled it high above her head. She turned her glare to him.

I need that! she mouthed.

"What's that, Stasia? We couldn't hear you." Fred sung, one hand to his ear.

"Seems that your potion worked without the last half. We'll keep this dose as a security deposit…it'd be good for…experimentation," George grinned enterprisingly.

Anastasia growled, kicked them in one shin apiece, and then proceeded down the hall as she listened to their curses echo behind her.

Another week passed in silence. Anastasia did not visit Albus during that time. She spent her Evenings staring out the window, thinking about a different life she might have. She read her muggle books, dreamed of flying to Neverland with the lost boys, and ate the chocolate Lupin gave her.

Granted, with the mandrake leaf under her tongue, she could only eat it by shaving off little bits of it at a time and waiting until they melted in her mouth.

In The Little Princess, the little girl thinks her father died in a war far away. That was why she was alone and trapped in an upstairs bedroom. Not because her father thought she might be needed to take down an evil wizard who had already died.

She found her own situation much more dreadful. She couldn't help but be angry with Albus. Why did he care so much about a bloody prophecy and not her wellbeing? How could he have even considered wanting to kill her when the obscurus was his fault to begin with?

There were times she would sit in study group and look up at her friends in the library sunlight. She would see Harry's befuddled face over his text and want to say, Hey, did you know that there's a prophecy that says it's our job to kill Voldemort, and even though you did that long ago, there's a small chance he could come back?

But she didn't want to ruin his life like that. He, too, had his share of unbearable pain. It didn't matter how many skeletons they unearthed from their closets and put to rest. There were still more to uncover, and every new discovery revealed a new bout of hopelessness.

Besides, there was a chance this prophecy would not come to pass at all. Albus was being paranoid. And since he considered killing her after a situation he caused, the best thing to do was to leave.

The day of the quidditch cup game finally arrived. The morning greeted them crisp and clear, birds chirping, with only a hint of wind. Though Anastasia had missed most of practice leading up to the game, Oliver had been sure to enterprise on her silence by lecturing her about all the new plays during every meal. As he did, the twins tried to engage her by sarcastically teasing Oliver about his enthusiasm, but she refused to laugh at their jokes. She was still angry.

The students cheered as the Gryffindor team entered the Great Hall. Anastasia felt half-happy. She still doubted she would get the chance to play when Harry had a firebolt to help him if things got messy. Her only job would be to not attract more dementors.

She looked over at the Slytherin table to see the team seething and growling at them. It seemed the entire school was invested in Gryffindor's win. Anastasia found Draco's eyes. He gave a hint of a smile. She winked and then sat to scarf down breakfast with the team with the team as if nothing had transpired.

It was clear from the start of the game that the Slytherins planned to play dirty. Every chaser was hit at least once in the first ten minutes. Lee's voice could be heard cursing in fury over McGonagall's warnings, which faded quickly when she became equally passionate.

By mid-game, Oliver called a timeout, and the team landed, the twins escorted Alicia Spinet off the field, one arm cradled under the other.

"Anastasia, you're in. Play chaser." Wood said determinedly.

She shook her head. She wasn't nearly as strong as a chaser.

"I can't play," Alicia argued, "Not with my arm like this—" she tried to move it but winced in pain.

"Anastasia, you listened to all the plays, you know them," George pushed.

"Wood only told you about a thousand times," Harry said.

She sighed exasperatedly and signed dementor spooky fingers to remind them of her current condition.

"Anastasia." Fred came up and put his hands on both of her shoulders. "You're doing fine. You won't attract any more dementors…look—" he gestured to the clear skies.

There was a sincerity in his gaze. He was right. Thoughts of her past had barely crossed her mind in all the excitement. He continued.

"I'm sorry about what I said before. I shouldn't have been so judgmental when you're going through a lot…so are you going to help us kick Slytherin arse or not?" he asked.

Anastasia froze, a flush in her cheeks, she nodded and broke eye contact, bolting onto the field, only vaguely hearing George tease Fred behind her.

And the whistle sounded once more.

Slytherin began attacking as soon as they had left the ground. They didn't seem to care for how many fouls they accumulated, so long as they kept the chasers from scoring. Anastasia managed to avoid most of their hits, and Fred and George flanked her, Angelina, and Katie protectively.

Anastasia caught the quaffle. She shot to the goalposts, threw it, they scored.

"ANASTASIA DUMBLEDORE SCORES 10 POINTS! Potter only has to catch the snitch for Gryffindor's first Quidditch cup win in—"

Montague barreled into her side. She lurched and simultaneously saw Draco across the field, neck and neck with Harry, mid-reach, jolt back in pain. Harry caught the snitch and raised it high above his head.

Montague growled at her and sped off.

Serves them right, she thought. They won.

The team flew together in a mass airborne group hug. Anastasia looked over her shoulder to see Malfoy moping below. She threw another sly wink at him, and he rolled his eyes back at her.

The team accepted the cup from the beaming headmaster. They each lined up to shake his hand, but when he reached her, he held her hand gently.

"Congratulations, my dear. Well deserved."

She smiled faintly, wanting to pause for a moment.

And he let go.

She normally would have embraced him at a moment like that. In her confusion, she was swept away by the joyous shouts of her classmates, as all the Gryffindors stormed the field and picked them up on their shoulders.

From across the field, Anastasia saw Malfoy push Montague, and Montague pushed back, and they began arguing.

The Gryffindors partied late into the night, again until Minerva told them to go to sleep, temporarily blissful.

When a month had passed, Anastasia went to Minerva. She watched the skull shaped chrysalis dissolve into the vial along with the saliva-soaked foliage, and they completed the potion they originally attempted in March. Minerva took the potion and stowed it in her cabinet.

"There," Minerva said, brushing her hands off, "now during the next rainstorm, come back in the evening and take the potion. You will outside and take it while standing in the rain, and until then, every morning and evening repeat the phrase 'Amato animo animato animagus' while holding your wand point to your chest."

"That's it?" Anastasia asked. "That's all I have to do?"

"You must do it with confidence." Minerva explained. "If you hesitate, it will fail…and that could have disastrous consequences, but it's not certain."

"You tell me this now?" she asked, a hitch in her normally unphased voice.

"Honestly, with how things were going. I doubted we'd make it this far," Minerva said pointedly. "When I became an animagus, I did it in one go, not three."

Anastasia thought once more. If she didn't try, she couldn't change anything about her situation. But if she took the potion and formed the animagus, she and Draco would have some hope of leaving their families and finding better lives for themselves.

She had to do something.