MAGIANIMA // Hermione Granger

Raucous Whispers

Books piled high around Atlas, towering so that darkness consumed her, combated only by the lantern she sat beside her. It cast shadows across her front, made her face, etched in concentration, appear almost gaunt, lifeless as dull eyes poured over each page, stained with its old age. Her ungloved hand turned each page, her other, donned in leather, scrawling words across the parchment of her notebook, noting each notable piece of knowledge she could snatch.

For days, Atlas could only think of finding a cure. A cure or at least something to negate the effects of Astoria's condition. With Minerva's warnings and wisdom in mind, she had been looking through tomes and papyrus, mountains of understanding just to see if she could. To satisfy Fobbo and to help a young and kind girl, one she had not seen since finding her face down in that dirt. It was a welcome distraction, pulling her thoughts from Hermione and her small army, away from Umbridge and further from the budding war and the lost life that had sparked it all.

She clenched her hand into a tight fist around her quill, eyes drifting to where the ring decorated her finger beneath the cloth of her glove, chilling it to an unwarmable degree. She wondered if Cedric would have joined, if he would have urged her on, encouraged her to defy Umbridge so boldly. But those thoughts were fleeting. Thinking of him when her resolve was so weak would only pull her under further. She hadn't thought of him in so long, not since her talk with Hermione, their chat about him and who he was. Atlas smiled faintly, a tightness to her throat as she raised her hand to her eyes, closing them for a moment.

He smiled at her from some memory from her distant past. At least she could see him there, in her mind but she didn't do it often. It was still painful.

A sigh. She leant back, running her hand through her hair and cracking her arms. What was she doing here? Trying to save Astoria, yes. But why? Because Astoria was young, she didn't deserve to have her childhood hindered because of something someone else, her blood of aeons gone, had done. She deserved to live a long fulfilling life. Just as they all did. So maybe that was it, Atlas could not stop the war, no matter how she might try, no matter what she might do but if she could do something, anything to help one little girl, by Merlin she would try.

The thought led her back to Hermione's proposal, her request that Atlas teach those students to defend themselves. It would help them, it could even save them but she would be participating in the creation of an army, then again, that army would rise, regardless if she were a part of its creation. She was confused, Atlas was confused, torn, her thoughts growing louder the more she thought, eyes wetter the more her ideals contradicted. That familiar tightness settled in her chest and Atlas took in a quick breath, hands over her ears as she sought to steady her breathing, to hold the numbness of her arms at bay.

It worked. To a degree. Atlas opened her eyes once more, chest rising unevenly, silent tears falling from her eyes. She shook her head, hasty in her movements to pack her books away and when they had found their homes she stood and grabbed her notes, exiting the library without even a glance to Madam Pince. She read through them again almost desperately, frantic to rid her mind of her thoughts, to only focus on one thing. Potions. Alchemy. All things that were famously able to combat illnesses of the body rather than injuries.

But she saw students in the distance, secretive students who whispered things, topics of meetings, a room of requirement and the DA. Amongst them was a face she had not spoken to since the train ride. A face Atlas knew as Cho Chang. Their eyes caught and Atlas froze, notes almost slipping from her fingers. So Cho had joined Hermione's group? Of course. It only made sense, so why did it strike Atlas so painfully? She just stared for a moment, her jaw tense as Cho directed her friends down the corridor.

And when it looked as if Cho might approach her, Atlas left for Gryffindor Tower, looking back to her notes and going through the potions once more.

The common room was devoid of any familiar faces when she arrived, just as her dorm room was. She'd become accustomed to such a thing, being alone in the afternoons, only finding company in the comfort of teammates on training days, school hours were the only pockets of time where she wasn't alone but even then all her trio spoke of was their group, meeting times and dates. Hermione had been especially avoidant, her smiles almost grimaces. As if she were pained in some way.