Chapter 7) The Journey Home
Selected Listening: Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year- Fall Out Boy
In the morning, there was a flurry of getting ready for the train as Hermione, Harry, and all the Weasleys gathered their bags. For most of the morning, Anastasia sat in the entryway on Hermione's trunk, her own backpack already strung across her shoulders, trying to comfort Crookshanks in her carrier, and rubbing the stone ferret in her pocket with her thumb. She worried about what the process of breaking the lifeline would be like. Would it be painful?
Fred passed her twice but avoided eye contact. The others ran here and there. Sirius had holed up in the second floor sitting room, moping about Harry leaving, and finally everyone gathered in the entryway.
"Why aren't we leaving?" Tonks asked after they had stood there staring at Mad-Eye for an awkward amount of time. Without prompting, Tonks took Anastasia's wrist, pulled up her sleeve, and replaced the glamor covering the words etched into her arm. Anastasia had already forgotten; she felt raised line of words whether the glamor was present or not. She whispered a quiet thank-you.
"Podmore's not here for guard duty." Moody argued, staring at his pocket watch with a suspicion in his glare.
"If we don't set off now, we'll miss the train," complained Molly.
"Why couldn't we borrow the Ministry cars?" Ron asked.
"Unfortunately, Fudge no longer cares if Harry is protected," Mr. Weasley clarified. "He's much more interested in ensuring we aren't in colluding with Dumbledore."
A shiver went down Anastasia's back. A somber silence pierced the room. If anything went wrong, they were on their own.
Finally, Moody gave in and decided to let them leave. A black shaggy dog skipped down the stairs, ready to assist. Moody and Molly argued. Sirius came anyway, and they left in groups, Anastasia walking with Hermione, Ron, and Mr. Weasley.
It took them a full half hour to walk all the way to King's Cross, and again the feeling returned that someone was following them through the overcast day. Anastasia couldn't help but look over her shoulders and down alleys as they passed. She kept her wand clutched in her pocket, unafraid of any punishment she may face. She expected Pettigrew or a death eater or even Voldemort himself to pop out and start a fight in the middle of the muggle street.
"The key to not looking conspicuous is to not appear as if you're looking for the person following you," Mr. Weasley said as she paused to look behind them a third time.
"Right, sorry." Her attention snapped back to the road in front of them, and she ran the last few steps to catch up with Ron and Hermione as they crossed the road to the train station.
The Order had gathered on the platform with their charges in the massive crowd of families. Anastasia was certain she could feel eyes on her now. Whispers of anxious parents and gossiping students followed as they had in the past. This time less about her and more about her father's questioned sanity. She did her best to ignore it. Lupin and the Weasleys wished the students a heartfelt goodbye while Moody simply grunted. Tonks made sure to hug each of the girls in turn, Ginny, Hermione, and finally Anastasia.
"Don't let Snape push you around this year," Tonks whispered in Anastasia's ear, "bloke's not nearly as cold as he pretends to be."
Anastasia nodded and hugged her tighter. Out of everyone, Tonks believed her without evidence, and didn't wish her to be more than what she was.
"Thank you, Tonks" she said, "for everything."
Tonks gave a little wink, and Anastasia boarded.
"We should find a compartment," Harry suggested as the train began pulling away from the platform, "we're late. They're all nearly full."
"Actually, mate," Ron admitted, scratching behind his head. Hermione looked similarly nervous.
"We are sitting together, aren't we?" Anastasia asked, but she had a feeling she already knew the answer. Hermione readjusted Crookshank's carrier in her arms.
"We have a prefects meeting…the ins and outs and all. We'll see you when we're done. Could you keep an eye on Crookshanks?" Hermione asked, handing over the irritated furball.
"Oh," Harry and Anastasia drooped. Ginny led the way, all the way to the back where they found a compartment containing a motley crew: Neville and blonde Ravenclaw girl Anastasia hadn't spoken to before. She wore a pair of jeweled magenta glasses and was reading her magazine upside down.
"Harry, Anastasia, this is Luna Lovegood," Ginny introduced. They crowded in and said hi to Neville. Anastasia sat Crookshank's carrier down on the bench beside her.
"We believe you by the way," Luna said to no one in particular. "Me and dad, that Harry and Professor Dumbledore are telling the truth about Voldemort."
"Oh, thank you," Anastasia said.
"Yeah, thanks," Harry chimed.
"And it's okay that you're a clone of your late aunt Ariana." Luna said directly to Anastasia.
"Oh," she stated, "but I'm not—"
"It's okay, really. You don't need to lie," Luna encouraged. Anastasia stared, obviously unable to convince her.
Two hours later, Ron and Hermione trudged in with exhausted looks on their faces and new times tables showing their hall schedule.
"All of these responsibilities. Trust us, Harry, this is barely rewarding. Plus, what's worse—"
A familiar face came sailing around the open compartment door before Hermione could close it.
"There you are, Dumblebrat," Draco smirked. "How come you weren't at the prefects meeting?"
Anastasia glared.
Draco fell over with childish laughter, unable to hold it in any longer.
"Your father…approved me….as a prefect…and not you!" he cackled.
"Why would I want to be a glorified hall monitor anyway?" Anastasia demanded, though she saw the irked glances from Ron and Hermione and immediately felt apologetic. "Besides, it's the heads of house who choose, not grandad. Everyone knows you're Snape's pet."
Draco stepped in and stood in front of her, arms folded.
"I think my first order of business is to give you detention, Dumblebrat."
"For what?" she snarked.
"Back talking a superior," he smirked devilishly.
"A superior? Who exactly will I be writing lines for?" she asked.
"Me," he dared, leering into her face. She noticed his Adam's apple protruding from his throat. She held her breath in fury.
"I'd like to see you try," she said sharply.
Draco's eyes flashed offendedly. Harry began laughing now, holding his stomach, glasses falling half-off.
"What are you laughing at Potter? You were second to a Weasley."
"Shut up," Anastasia shot at Draco. "Leave us alone."
At that point, Hermione played bouncer and pushed him out. The cart's energy reduced to silence.
Luna hmmed in an entertained way.
"What?" Anastasia asked.
"Funny," Luna commented, "how you two express your feelings."
"I don't have—" Anastasia started, held her breath, and changed direction. "He's a prat! And I can't believe he's been given that sort of responsibility. It's gone straight to his head."
Luna simply smiled and went back to reading.
Anastasia folded her arms and stared into the corridor. She couldn't believe she had been missing him all week. She wished she had never run into him in Diagon Alley all those years ago, wished she'd never been connected to him, wished they had been born on different continents.
As they exited the train, Anastasia immediately spotted Draco with Pansy, bullying a scrap of a first-year boy, who looked like he may be lucky to be sorted into Hufflepuff.
"Leave him alone," Anastasia interrupted, yanking Draco by the elbow.
"What are you going to do about it?" he asked. "Would you rather have that detention I suggested?" he asked as the first year scampered away.
Pansy saw the two staring each other down at too close a distance and stormed over, forcing herself between them.
"Better watch yourself this year, Dumblebrat. I can make your life a living hell if I want," she threatened.
"Pansy," Draco warned, as if he weren't doing the same. It was obvious he hadn't broken up with Parkinson.
"Not sure why you would need to do that. Unless you're jealous?" Anastasia asked, now towering over the Slytherin girl who had not yet hit her growth spurt.
"He's my boyfriend, Dumblebrat! Not yours. Stay away from him!" she growled.
Anastasia couldn't help herself. She grinned. Draco's arrogant smirk transformed into a grim line. The Slytherin head boy came to corral them away, chastising them for being anywhere besides where they were supposed to be.
Draco stared after Anastasia solemnly, Pansy berating him all the way.
Anastasia held her chin high and walked away to rejoin her classmates.
The group queued up to board the carriages. The cool night air was dotted with warm lanterns leading up the trail to the castle.
Anastasia had been able to see the thestrals ever since she helped Narcissa with the stillborn at Easter, so when she saw them again, she did not flinch. Harry in contrast, looked like he might have had a stroke. Anastasia noticed the bright spark on Harry's face from observing new magic faded from his eyes as soon as he saw Ron and Hermione's undisturbed glances.
"It's okay, I can see them too," Luna reassured as they boarded their own carriage. Anastasia said nothing but squeezed Harry's arm reassuringly before settling into her own seat. It would take too long to explain, and it wasn't worth angering Ron by bringing up her godmother's line of work. Harry gazed back at her, but didn't ask.
He quickly changed topics as he noted Hagrid was still gone on his trip. Anastasia thought he would have returned by then, but Wilhemena had been the one to greet the first-years at the gate and usher them towards the boats.
Anastasia saw Hagrid off the day he left. On the grassy hill outside his hut, she handed him a cloth to pat his damp face as he held a stick-bundle over his shoulder wrapped in a yellow and orange spotted kerchief.
"Goin' to see the family," he told her. At least, that was the cover story. "Haven't been back in years, really. You of all people know how that is."
Anastasia remembered spending Christmas with her grandparents two years before and how cruel they'd been to her. They plotted to abscond with her to France on a promise from Lucius Malfoy that they'd be given a small fortune. He'd do anything to get her away from Draco.
She nodded to Hagrid and hugged his scruffy neck.
"Be safe. Come back soon," she said.
"You know I will," he reassured, handed over Fang's leash, and took Albus's arm. Albus planned to apparate them halfway up the mountain where Hagrid's clan lived. From there, Hagrid would walk the rest of the way. Giants didn't care for wizards popping in and surprising them, and that would be dangerous for Hagrid as well.
Anastasia worried for Hagrid for the first half of the summer, but her worry faded amidst the landscape of her trip to Shell Cottage with Minerva, and her trip to the port with the Malfoys, and her trip to Grimmauld Place with the Order. Everyone was preparing. Everyone was doing what they needed to do to be ready for what came next. And she would do what she needed as well.
The carriages trudged up the foggy hill. When they reached the castle, Anastasia had the feeling that things weren't quite right. She could sense it in the air, in the way the ghosts floated through the hall, in the tone of the castle. Something had gone cold that was warm before.
By the look on Harry's face, she could tell he felt the same.
They were ushered into the Great Hall and found their spots at the Gryffindor table. She looked up to the teachers' table and examined them. Even the way the professors carried themselves wasn't quite right. While the first feast of the year was usually an enjoyable reunion, laughing over cordial, the professors now spoke through pursed lips and barely turned to each other.
Anastasia spotted Snape and looked quickly to the other side of the table to avoid his critical gaze, but instead she found the face of someone twice as awful—a squat woman with a sickly-sweet expression, a pink fur cape over her shoulders, and a squashed pink hat. Anastasia knew she hated her immediately. The woman caught her staring. A glower in the witch's prim smile grew into something more sinister, a snide hatred that made Anastasia's stomach turn.
Then Anastasia realized what she had missed. She hadn't been there to help her father select a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and he hadn't mentioned a thing about who was next.
Anastasia looked to Albus and spoke to him with her eyes.
Really? she asked.
Albus shifted uncomfortably and side-eyed the woman before resuming his conversation with Minerva. Not my choice.
"You alright, Stasia?" George asked. She realized she'd been frozen, staring at the empty plate in front of her. If her father had lost control of staffing decisions at Hogwarts, what else was about to change?
"Oh, um, right. I'm fine."
The first years were sorted, the food appeared, and the students feasted. All seemed to be going as it had in the past. That was, until the pink woman stood and interrupted Albus's start-of-term speech with a small cough.
Umbridge shuffled to the front of the teacher's platform and took the podium from Albus. Anastasia now hated this woman with every fiber of her being. As the woman spoke, crowd shifted, some into post-feast drowsiness and some into immense concern. The meaning of her words, interwoven with platitudes about the importance of educating young witches and wizards became clear.
Hogwarts was under house arrest.
Anastasia approached her father after the speech. She wanted to retrieve her owls and a few other things from the headmaster's suite. Together, they walked to the door behind the faculty table—one of the many back entrances to the headmaster's suite.
"Hm," a high-pitched tone mused behind them.
"Do you have a cold, Dolores?" Albus asked, turning to Umbridge who stood with her fingers pressed together in a menacing way.
"I'm simply wondering where you're bringing that student," she mused innocently. Albus placed a protective hand on Anastasia's shoulder.
"My daughter is returning to her chamber to fetch some of her belongings. It's none of your concern."
The woman's gray caterpillar eyebrows froze on her forehead.
"Seems to me that you're showing her clear favoritism. Maybe the minister should know about this—"
Albus's eyes narrowed. Where he expected a rat, he found an adder.
He recovered immediately and regained a tone of professionalism.
"Cornelius knows very well that I have a daughter, and her home is with me in the headmaster's suite, just as your new abode is in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Shouldn't you be there, finishing your plans to perfect the education of young witches and wizards…as you so eloquently interjected moments ago?"
Umbridge's prim smile returned. Her lips now twitched on one side.
"Why yes," she answered, a plan brewing behind her eyes. "I suppose I will."