Chapter 11) Meetings
Selected Listening: Sugar, We're Going Down Swinging- Fall Out Boy
The next morning, Anastasia awoke to an even bigger headache with the morning paper. The news spread across the page—Umbridge had been given a new title, high inquisitor of Hogwarts.
Anastasia seethed as she ate her breakfast.
"We meant to tell you," Ron said sheepishly. "After you went to bed, we got an owl from Percy."
"Percy?" Anastasia asked.
"He said a bunch of dragon dung, like I should stay away from Harry and Dumbledore if I wanted to make it anywhere in life. And he kept implying that…" Hermione elbowed him as if to keep him quiet.
"No, I want to know. Implied what?"
"That Dumbledore may not be headmaster much longer."
Anastasia looked up at the breakfast table full of professors. Again, they weren't giddily conversing in morning time conversation. Most of them stared straight ahead, silent. The only one smiling was Umbridge…and in true "polite" form, Albus, casually making conversation with Minerva, who peered at her breakfast through narrowed eyes and picked at her food.
"Sirius said something about it too…" Harry mentioned.
"Yeah? And what's that?" Anastasia asked.
"Well, he said that Fudge is scared of Dumbledore training us in combat…more than anything…and that's why he's doing this."
Anastasia folded her arms.
"That's ridiculous. Here he is accusing grandad of being batshit, when he has the most batshit ideas of anyone."
There were two other surprises in the paper. One about the Zabini's indicated they moved the central location of Zabini Fashions back to Paris, and Blaise's education along with it, after the loss of Madam Zabini's most recent husband. There were implications of murder, which Anastasia didn't quite understand how the woman who helped her into society could harm anyone after helping so many…but she supposed it wasn't any of her business.
The second chilled Anastasia to the bone.
Anonymous Tip Indicates Secret Healing-Alchemy Ring for Witches in Crisis
The Ministry is currently investigating a series of anonymous tips, seeming to indicate that at least one magic, capable of healing alchemy, is providing illegal services to witches. The caustic history of healing alchemy proves that these services are highly dangerous. If found, the provider could be punished severely. At minimum, with fines upwards of 10,000 galleons, the stripping of one's healing license, and potentially time in Azkaban.
So Narcissa's work was being placed under a microscope too. Anastasia prayed Narcissa wouldn't be caught, prayed that everything her godmother worked for wouldn't be taken away, as it had the day of her birth.
Her godmother deserved more than that, and so did the witches that needed her.
Despite the onslaught of bad news, Anastasia managed to keep her head down all the rest of the month, sludging through her classes, ignoring Umbridge's attempts to take a dig at her and every teacher she cared about. Freezing out Draco when he said horrible things about Hagrid or the Gryffindor quidditch team or her father.
She desperately wondered when Narcissa would reach out about breaking the lifeline, if they even could at this point without risk being caught.
Despite Occlumency giving her a raging headache, she was able to drag herself to a Sunday dinner with Albus every other week or so, usually on the days when Vector was doing more theory and less practice. In the dining nook of the headmaster's suite, Albus and Anastasia spoke about Umbridge's cruelty and they spoke of Fudge's ignorance. They spoke about Narcissa's research being targeted and they spoke of the papers discussing the uncertainty of Albus's position.
"Shouldn't we do something?" Anastasia asked.
But Albus continued picking at his shepherd's pie as if she mentioned it would rain tomorrow.
"The only thing we can do is wait. I've been removed as headmaster before…when you were petrified…and if they do, I'll be reinstated again when they realize the truth."
Anastasia wasn't convinced.
"But what will happen if you're removed?"
"Nothing should change for you, my dear," Albus reassured. "You'll barely even notice I'm gone."
Anastasia raised an eyebrow of disbelief.
They talked about so many things, but the one thing Anastasia couldn't bring up was her potential treatment at St. Mungo's. She couldn't help the words of Moody echoing through her mind and fearing that her guardian didn't want the lifeline detached. She preferred to keep what was coming a secret, along with the message on her knuckles that she only extended the glamor over when she met her father on those treasured evenings. There was no need to further complicate Albus's precarious position by concerning him with Umbridge's discipline.
Harry hadn't had the same luck with Umbridge. He continually blew up at the woman and had been dragged into detention time and time again to sear the same message into his hand. Often, Anastasia sat beside him in the common room while he soaked his hand in the murtlap oil Hermione made, while Anastasia explained, or even scribed his homework for him.
"Are you alright?" he asked one evening after she snapped at him for not knowing what Minerva said about vanishing spells. She glared.
"Okay, bad question. I was just wondering…you haven't been seeing Malfoy lately. Have you?" he asked hesitantly.
"Why would I when he's with that bimbo? And what's it got to do with right now?" she demanded. Harry winced.
"But you are still connected, right?" he asked.
"Do you want me to get back together with him or something?" she shot, turning another page in her textbook.
"Well, no, but…you're not you when you're not with him. Or at least half-way seeing each other. It's almost as if…you're frozen or something."
Again, she glared and sat up a little straighter.
"The only reason I'm in a bad mood is because grandad's position and the safety of Hogwarts is in jeopardy. I couldn't care less about that Voldemort-denying, blood purist prat."
"Right," Harry said, but his eyes didn't quite believe her. "Forget I said anything."
At that point, Hermione and Ron came in to join them, complaining all the way about Umbridge as they took their places around the study table. Hermione asserted that they would have to do something since Umbridge wasn't teaching them anything, and Harry might be the best one to do it.
Anastasia knew Harry wouldn't be up for it. He protested quite loudly, claiming that everything he did in the past was simply the result of luck, and they were insulting Cedric's memory by implying his own survival was anything more than that.
The three apologized and encouraged him, requesting that he consider it.
After an exasperated Harry had gone up to bed, Anastasia leaned over to Hermione and Ron and whispered, "I know of a place…"
Aberforth agreed to allow them to use The Hog's Head for the first meeting as long as Anastasia didn't say anything about him being her uncle.
I know enough of your friends to know that they ask too many questions. What's more, it may incriminate Albus if I look involved. You can have your meeting if you leave me out of it.
Anastasia thanked him and planned on saying nothing.
On that Saturday, she led her friends down Hogsmeade's crooked brick lane. She hadn't been since the summer, and she hadn't been with her friends since the previous school year. The autumn air filled her with a nostalgia she never meant to feel.
She remembered her first trip and how Draco attempted to comfort her after the muggle-born student meeting. She remembered the time he tried to take her for a date at the tea shop. Both had ended in disaster, but his intentions had been genuine.
She wished they could go back to that.
"Tell us again how you know this place, Anastasia?" Ron asked. She shrugged.
"Place off the beaten path. I noticed it while exploring this summer. Seems like the perfect spot."
They approached the tucked-away brick building. As Hermione, Harry, and Ron followed behind her, Anastasia did her best to slip in the front door quickly so they wouldn't notice the goats in the gated field next to the tavern wandering toward her for treats.
The darkened bar seemed emptier and sketchier than usual, the low lighting casting a barely faint glow over the deep brown wood of the fixtures. Behind the counter, the gold curtains had been drawn around the portrait of her Aunt Arianna.
Her friends would have noticed the resemblance immediately.
They sat round a table near the window, Anastasia perched on the arm of the chair Harry chose and gazed out the panes onto the cobblestone street.
Aberforth approached, keeping his face in the shadow, and asked them what it would be.
"Four butterbeers please," Hermione harped. Anastasia looked at her uncle quickly and then back out the window. Her friends would have had to examine very closely to see how the curve of her nose matched his.
She didn't have to worry about others finding out much longer, as a large crowd of students including most their housemates, a handful of Ravenclaws, and half the fifth-year Hufflepuffs, bustled in. It had been two years since she spent Christmas with the latter. She nodded to them and smiled in greeting.
The meeting got off to an awkward start. It seemed most were there to hear Harry's version of what happened the day Cedric died and how he knew Voldemort was back. Anastasia interjected supportively when it seemed appropriate, but the questioning didn't stop until Harry put his foot down and told them to ship out if they didn't want to believe him.
Then Susan Bones asked a very important question, could Harry produce a patronus?
The questions changed, asking Harry about everything he could do. The crowd of students became more and more excited as they heard about his feats in the face of Voldemort time and time again.
"And Anastasia, aren't you really good with alchemy? Like…a prodigy or something?" Susan asked kindly.
Anastasia held her breath. The entire meeting, she had been quite content to fade into the background, and she planned to continue doing so, as to not take away from Harry's moment.
"As much as I appreciate that, Susan, old alchemy rituals aren't very relevant for the types of situations Voldemort or a Death Eater would place you in. Taking five minutes to solve the algorithm for dragon's blood is useful for when you need a potion, but it can't help you counter the killing curse. I've been saved more times than I've done any saving." Her fingers fell along her invisible scars as she spoke.
Most seemed to believe her and backed off, but Justin Finch-Fletchley folded his arms and tilted his head to the side, still examining her.
It was suddenly going swimmingly, until Hermione brought out a piece of parchment and asked that they all sign it, promising to keep their mouths shut. The others approached and wrote their names hesitantly, and finally, Hermione offered it to Anastasia, who shook her head.
"I can't sign that," she said.
"Why not?" Hermione started. "You have to. You're—"
"Have you not read the papers? Grandad's already under a microscope. If I sign it, and it's found, it'll only point more fingers at him. I'm not doing it."
There was a silence from her peers. Hermione begged her with large mooncalf eyes. Anastasia looked away.
Justin Finch-Fletchley stepped off his barstool. He had grown much taller since their encounters in third year.
"I for one, don't blame you for being scared," he said. "Your family's been through the ringer…anyone who pays attention knows that."
Anastasia nodded, thankful for the support, but he continued.
"Nearly two years ago, you brought a list of muggle-born student demands to the headmaster. You didn't have to…he was already facing losing guardianship of you. But you still did it, because you knew it was the right thing."
Several of the muggle-born students nodded in agreement.
"…and because of that," Justin continued, "We have more protections than we did in second year when a bloody Basilisk was hunting us down! In fact, because of the petition that you brought to the school board, we've eliminated five more muggle-born targeted curses in the school. Five!"
Anastasia folded her arms. She hadn't heard anything about more curses being found and broken. The Hufflepuff boy kept on.
"Your father's always been a bit off, but one of the reasons I'm here is because your family always seems to know what the right thing is, even if it's unpopular, even if it will hurt you…and I think out of anyone, the headmaster would understand if you signed this." He gestured to the parchment in invitation.
Anastasia sighed heavily, watching her peers assess her. Her family would be in a lot more trouble if it were found, but it had to be done. She crossed the room, drew the quill, and signed the parchment.
A slow whoop of praise echoed through the room, starting with the twins and ending with the cheering and clapping of every student in the tavern. Her signature confirmed it. They were fighting back.
A glass broke behind the counter.
At the pit of her stomach, a horrible feeling brewed.