6) The Boggart in the Room
Selected Listening: Over My Head- The Fray
When Hermione found and woke her in the morning, breakfast had already started downstairs. Anastasia went straight to the kitchen in her Nirvana t-shirt and striped pajama pants. Her aching head pounded faintly. She sat at the table filled with eggs, bacon, and bagels, and leaned her head into her hands, trying to decide what to eat as the others chattered merrily alongside her.
"Something wrong, dear?" Molly asked, a wariness in her tone. Anastasia assumed she felt slightly apologetic for what she said the previous night, but not enough to say so.
"Just a headache," Anastasia said as she rubbed her temples.
"Oh, I've just the thing." Molly poured her a cup of tea and slipped a vial of a marigold-colored potion into it. Once Anastasia took the first sip, her headache seemed to evaporate.
"Post-legilimency headaches are the worst," Sirius agreed, sipping his own tea. "Used to get them all the time when mum—"
Molly cleared her throat. Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Never mind, my trauma's not important."
Anastasia thanked Mrs. Weasley and continued to drink. As she did, she was able to eat more until she had her fill, until breakfast ended and cleaning began.
Molly brought them to the living room where she'd identified a colony of doxies in the sofa. They dawned old rags around their faces, removed the cushions, and began spraying as black fairy-shaped flies sputtered into the air.
Fred leaned over Anastasia's shoulder and whispered in her ear.
"Slip me ones when you can, we're collecting them for venom."
She didn't respond, but checked to make sure Ginny was preoccupied with her own before slipping some of the magical insects into Fred's hand.
After the doxies, they went about examining individual items in the display cabinets in the sitting room upstairs. Anything that looked intentionally cursed or dangerous they put in a sack to be de-cursed and or trashed. The others were going into a donations sack. A desk across the room rattled anytime someone spoke, but the drawer was locked shut. They were saving it for Moody to deal with later.
Every few moments, Anastasia noticed a large, toddler-sized, bat-eared creature with narrow eyes peaking around the corner.
"What about this?" Ron asked, picking up the music box Anastasia had set down the night before.
"Oh, that's mine," she put it aside on another table near the door.
As Anastasia went to choose another item, she saw a flash of pale grey hands grab her music box and run off.
"Kreacher has it! Kreacher has it, mistress!" The elf yelled as he ran. Anastasia took off after the old cretin. He jumped and ducked over and under furniture as he sprinted down the hall. Anastasia nearly caught up to him, but he tore away as they jolted downstairs towards Walburga's portrait. Below, Sirius appeared, blocking the way.
"Kreacher—"
"Kreacher stop!" Anastasia yelled.
And the elf froze. It was a painful freeze, as if he'd been dipped in fast-drying super glue but was still fighting against the adhesive.
Sirius's jaw fell open. Anastasia's heart thudded.
"Kreacher, give it back," she said, and the old elf turned slowly, a menacing glower in his eyes as he turned and reached out with the box.
Sirius stared at her and back down at the little elf holding the music box and back up at her again.
"You can control Kreacher. How—I—"
Anastasia took her music box back from the elf, and the spell released him. Kreacher breathed heavily in the dim light of the staircase, glowering at her. He spoke in a gravelly voice.
"Evil magic…dark magic…making Kreacher serve the blood traitor—I'll get—" Kreacher lunged for her throat. Anastasia jumped back as Sirius grabbed the elf in midair. The elf's limbs flailed.
"You will not attack her, Kreacher! I don't care how the magic works, but you are not allowed to harm her!" Sirius kicked the old elf down the hall and stared back at Anastasia.
"How the hell did you—"
Anastasia looked down at her music box like she'd done something wrong. She didn't mean to make the elf feel pain, even if he was being a buckwucket by stealing the box.
"The wards transfer to you. Don't they?" Sirius asked. "Malfoy and Black?"
Anastasia nodded meekly. She hadn't known about the latter until mere seconds before. A lightbulb popped on over Sirius's head. He grinned.
"This changes everything."
That afternoon, she sat at the kitchen table with Lupin and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius leaning back against the counter. The others were off cleaning.
"She can control Kreacher…the Black and Malfoy wards transfer to her…all of them"
"All of them?" Remus asked. "Their house listens to you?"
"I can get in without a key…that's really all I've tried besides asking Mopsy for things."
The adults ogled.
"Why, she's practically engaged," Molly commented.
"By pureblood standards, yes," Sirius commented.
"Stop," Anastasia said quietly. Engaged assumed not always being at each other's throats. Engaged assumed the other person wanted you around always. Engaged insinuated some form of happiness.
"Does Lucius know about this?" Sirius questioned. Anastasia shook her head.
"He was suspicious last Spring, but Narcissa threw him off."
"Severus was entirely wrong yesterday," Sirius continued. "Anastasia's not a disadvantage; she's our best kept secret. She's our best weapon. She could find proof of Voldemort's return. Imagine if we taught her to apparate!"
Molly, who had been fighting to keep Harry out of adult matters the day before, now appeared conflicted.
"I said stop!" Anastasia shouted. "I am not a weapon. I am not engaged. I'm fifteen." The adults paused. "Despite what you may think, I cannot waltz into Malfoy Manor and take whatever evidence I want."
Remus looked briefly between his best friend and the young girl.
"Sirius, she's obviously uncomfortable with the idea."
Sirius scoffed, "Uncomfortable! I'll tell you what makes me uncomfortable: being locked up in this house while Voldemort's followers are running free, planning for the end of our world without consequences."
Anastasia glared and tried to explain calmly.
"Lucius uses legilimency on his elf. If Mopsy sees me sneak in, and he checks her thoughts, we're screwed. Not only that, but Narcissa will be…" Anastasia drifted off.
"Will be what?" Lupin asked.
"Dead," Anastasia said pointedly. "Lucius will kill her for casting the lifeline once he finds out. She doomed the Malfoy bloodline for my sake. That's what he'll take it as. And let's be honest, he despises me without the lifeline."
The adults shared glances, each weighing the delicate nature of the situation. Molly seemed to have reached an internal impasse, her thoughts darkly shifting between options as she stared at the table.
"Anastasia," Remus tried to say gently, "if we pull this off successfully…Lucius Malfoy will be sentenced and sent to Azkaban before he can do anything about it. Narcissa will be safe. You will be safe. Even the house elf will be spared."
Anastasia felt her stomach twist even harder. She thought not of Lucius rightfully behind bars, but the way Draco might look at her afterward. She shook her head.
"I can't."
As she finished her sentence, the doorbell rang and Walburga began her shrieking. Sirius grabbed the door and ushered in Minerva in a floral muggle dress carrying her purse. Around the same time, Arthur Weasley also returned from work and joined them in the kitchen.
"Minnie," Anastasia sighed in relief.
"What's going on?" Minerva asked, examining Anastasia's terrified expression. Arthur stood beside Molly and rubbed her arm to shake her out of her daze. Sirius jumped to explain in an excited tone.
"Minerva, the wards transfer to her. Malfoy and Black. She can get into any house, control any house elf. Do you see the potential in this?"
"Merlin's beard!" Arthur exclaimed. "Are you sure?"
Minerva frowned and didn't say anything.
Arthur continued frantically.
"Anastasia, didn't you mention last year that you saw a secret room of Lucius Malfoy's, hidden under the stairs? Isn't it filled with things you suspect are death eater paraphernalia?"
Anastasia barely nodded in response. Minerva glared.
"The cursed objects in Malfoy's house have already led to numerous petrifications of students, and nearly the death of one, might I remind you, Weasleys," Minerva dug. "Anything Anastasia grabs could be a danger. I would hate to see two more student deaths come to pass out of our selfishness."
"But Minerva—!" Sirius started.
"She's not doing it, Sirius. Don't ask again."
Sirius started back from his former teacher, his head lowered, a scolded child. Minerva turned to Anastasia, who rose from her seat and went to join her.
"Albus is coming tomorrow at one, he has something for you."
"Can't you stay?" Anastasia asked, placing a hand on Minerva's sleeve. They had spent the whole first half of the summer together at Shell Cottage, and it had been just the rest they both needed after the chaos of the Triwizard tournament.
Minerva took her hand apologetically.
"No, I have a slew of muggleborn student visits, and the shopping's scheduled later this week. Could you go while I speak with the others?" Minerva hugged her around the shoulders and Anastasia left the room as quickly as she could. As she turned back to the sitting room, a tall ginger disappeared around the corner.
Anastasia cleaned with the others for the rest of the day, but didn't say anything. She especially didn't say anything to Fred, who suddenly was not saying anything to her either. Her friends asked about the discussion, but she told them it was the same conversation they had the day before about whether it was too dangerous for her to know the Order's headquarters. Fred, if he had heard anything, simply stayed silent as he continued dusting the shelves.
"You really should think about learning occlumency," Hermione suggested. "Who knows what could happen…" but she didn't finish that thought. They all knew what could happen. Anastasia had been thinking about it ever since she cornered Pettigrew, and he threatened her with exactly what would happen. There was a deadly silence as everyone considered the possibilities. The desk behind them rattled with whatever creature was locked inside, but it didn't emerge.
The small crew continued their cleaning exploits the next day in a more somber mood than they had before. Anastasia couldn't shake the feeling as if people were tiptoing around her, and if they stared at her too long she might break.
The doorbell wrang at one, and she dismissed herself to answer it. She had so many feelings as she stood in front of the aged man with blue twinkling eyes that she couldn't possible express them all in one sentence, so the worst possible one came out.
"You were dismissed from the Wizengamot. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't know that mattered to you," Albus observed.
"It doesn't." she said, disheartened. "It matters that you tell me."
"Thought I'd spare you the nonsense," Albus offered as he stepped in. She shut the door behind him. "Shall we go to the kitchen? I need to discuss something with you privately."
Anastasia followed him back to the long table, and they took up across from each other at the end. Albus raised his wand and sealed the doors shut with a silencing charm.
"So we aren't bothered by prying ears," Albus suggested. "The Weasley twins are cleverer by the day, aren't they?"
Anastasia grimaced and didn't answer. She wondered what Fred had overheard the day before, and why it made him go cold, even though it was what she had intended. Maybe he was disappointed in her refusal to participate in Sirius's scheme.
"Is there something else that's bothering you?" Albus asked.
Everything. Everything was bothering her.
Anastasia slowly shook her head, "I'm fine."
Albus looked confused and defeated. She felt guilty for not telling him anything, but she was also angry with him for not telling her things.
When he realized he wasn't getting any more answers, Albus took a rolled parchment out of his cloak pocket and slid it over to her.
"A letter came to the suite from Draco. I need you to answer it as if you were there. Give no word that you are anywhere other than home."
Anastasia took a breath and unrolled the letter.
Anastasia,
I felt a legilimency headache come on nearly as soon as you left. Has your father gone off on you? If something's wrong, tell me. We'll get you out of there.
Draco
Anastasia winced inwardly. She hated that Draco was so concerned about her after his cruel words only two days before.
"I don't know what to say," she admitted.
"May I read it?" Albus asked. "I may be able to advise you."
Anastasia slid the note over guiltily. Did Albus know about what happened the night she arrived? She assumed Snape wouldn't tell Albus about questioning his judgement or using legilimency on her, but maybe the other members of the order had.
"Young Draco seems concerned about my mental state," Albus observed. Nothing else.
"He believes the papers," Anastasia confirmed, taking the letter back. "Thinks it's just a matter of time before you fall off your rocker."
"And that I've used legilimency on you?" Albus clarified.
"It was a regular headache." she lied. She didn't like lying, but it seemed necessary now.
Albus observed her carefully.
"Did you enjoy your holiday?" he asked, searching for more information.
"It was boring," her face flushed red. Anastasia couldn't tell Albus about Narcissa's proposition. It was a different feeling than she had when she couldn't tell her friends. Instead of fearing disappointment, a small part of her was afraid that if she told him, he wouldn't allow her to go.
"Ah," he said, and pulled out his portable quill and black inkwell with a new sheet of parchment. She took the instruments and started writing.
Draco,
I'm fine. Just a normal headache. Grandad is also fine. He did not use legilimency on me. He did not go insane. No need to panic.
Anastasia
"That alright?" she asked, showing him. Albus nodded and tucked it away. Anastasia stared angrily away from him.
"I am sorry," Albus said, "if my actions have caused you to come under more scrutiny."
Anastasia felt a stitch in her chest.
"It's not your fault…it's…it's Voldemort." She said the name. She always said it when she had to, but she rarely wanted to. Albus reached across and took her hand.
"That maybe, but I am still sorry. You are innocent in all of this, and you must bear the pain as did generations before you. Trust that even though exposing Voldemort is the highest priority of the Order, you are still my first priority."
Anastasia nodded, tears threatening. She pulled her hand away and folded her arms.
"Why are you avoiding Harry?" Anastasia asked. "You made Ron and Hermione promise not to write to him. I can only assume you took my letters from him this summer. It's hurting him, grandad."
Albus winced. "Anastasia, I have my suspicions that the more I spend time with Harry, the more we will all be exposed."
"What do you mean? Exposed to what?" she asked.
"Voldemort is actively targeting him. He will use any means he can to get to me. That includes Harry."
"Why can't Harry know more if he's in danger?"
"Transparency is only useful if the information doesn't end up in the wrong hands. Harry has enough to worry about, and I'm afraid he won't be able to handle much more in his current state. If he asks, tell him I'm very busy."
"I suppose..." she said disappointedly. "Can I have the letters though?"
"Of course, dear. As soon as you return home."
Anastasia almost asked if there was a way someone's owls could go to the wrong place. It was too convenient, how Draco's owls from second year suddenly appeared in the village. But she didn't. Albus didn't want to scare Harry, and Anastasia didn't want to scare Albus either. He also had too much on his plate. She would be fine handling this, and all her other problems, on her own.
When Harry returned to Grimmauld Place and announced his expulsion dropped, there was a joyful gathering awaiting him. He explained everything that happened, including Lucius Malfoy's interference with his trial time.
"Not surprising," Anastasia said and wrapped Harry in a great hug.
The school owls arrived soon after and they all headed up to their rooms to sort through the lists. Ron and Hermione were surprised to find new prefects' badges tucked in their book lists. Anastasia told them congratulations, but Harry was rather quiet, only expressing his enthusiasm in short statements. As soon as the new prefects left the room, Harry turned on her.
"Why aren't you upset?" Harry demanded.
Anastasia observed the dark rage in him once more and remembered what her father said.
"I think we have enough on our plates already without being glorified hall monitors."
"But your own father is headmaster, and he didn't recommend you!" Harry said. Anastasia shrugged, trying to help him diffuse his anger.
"So? He knows I don't want it. Plus, it looks like favoritism if he gives it to me."
"I suppose," Harry agreed unconvincingly as he sat down on the bed, "but—but every year I've saved the school. That's got to count for something?"
Anastasia stared at Harry with a sympathetic smile.
"Harry, you've done enough. Let someone else do their part. Besides, do you remember how you saved the school every year?"
"By confronting the danger? I dunno. It's usually an accident," he dismissed. Anastasia lifted an eyebrow.
"You sneak around and break the rules and nearly get yourself killed. Does it work? Sure. Does it meet the criteria for supreme, certified goody-two-shoes? Not at all," she tried to make her voice sound comforting, but he only sulked more.
"Wouldn't need to sneak if I had a prefect badge," Harry muttered.
At the congratulatory party that evening, Anastasia briefly made eye contact with Fred as she moved to sit down, but he looked away immediately. She settled in on the other side of the table next to Tonks, Lupin, and Bill. Hermione and Ginny separated her from the rest.
"Surprised Albus didn't give you a badge," Lupin commented. Anastasia shook her head.
"Don't need one."
"I wanted to be a prefect," Tonks commented, "but Professor Sprout said I was too squirrely for that."
"Why?" Remus asked curiously with a sly smirk.
"I was always impersonating teachers..."
"No way, really?" Anastasia asked. "Who?"
And Tonks entertained them with a story of how she one day impersonated Snape and began class without him. By the end, they nearly fell out of their seats with laughter. Remus couldn't breathe, and Tonks blushed every time he looked at her.
"Got something to show ya," Moody clamped down on Anastasia's shoulder as he passed by with Harry.
The old, crochety auror showed them an old photo of the Order. It was the same photo used for Anastasia's locket, except this one had all the members in the group. Moody couldn't stop talking about how it was so interesting how half of them died in the weeks following. Specifically pointing out the Longbottoms, Harry's parents, and her mother, Holly.
Harry stormed off. Anastasia held back angry tears and gave Moody an extra glare before following Harry up the stairs.
"Harry, don't listen to him. Moody's always been a fanatic for morbidity, even when he's not being impersonated by a death eater. He's obsessed with violence and death. He doesn't care if he hurts people's feelings."
Harry turned around to rant some more, but the sound of faint weeping called out to them. The sitting room door stood open at the end of the hall. In the pale light cast from the hall, she saw the silhouette of Hermione's hand, laying limp on the floor, then it became Ron's, then Harry's. Molly curled up on one side of the room, her wand a few feet from her on the floor, crying at the horrible sight.
"Remus!" Harry called. "Remus help!"
Anastasia looked too closely. Her eyes followed the boggart's arm up to its face, just as it turned into Fred. His cold eyes stared into nothing. She grabbed Harry's sleeve and closed her own eyes as tight as she could.