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THE FOLLOWING. august 22, 1996.
THERE HAD ALWAYS BEEN SOMETHING ABOUT THE ASTRONOMY TOWER THAT BROUGHT ANASTASIA COMFORT. Perhaps it was the fact that it lacked stable railings, one false move sending her to her demise.
She thought about that often; falling past the windows, twisting and turning as she awaited the impact of the ground to put her out of her misery. She did not fear death, in fact, she liked to believe that she would welcome the man with open arms when he finally came to collect her.
To any passing eye, the only thing that had wandered to the tower had been the small black cat that all of Hogwarts had seemed to welcome. The students who had seen it never questioned who she belonged to — nobody batted an eye when they saw the animal prancing about the hallways at night.
Anastasia had needed the tranquility more than ever as she sat on the edge of the wood, her eyes trained on the stars that the clouds ever so often covered. She had taken it upon herself to try and count them, brutally failing and yet it brought her comfort to focus on something so muniscule.
She heard the sound of a door and failed to move, instead turning her head to see the man making his way towards her.
When he arrived, he didn't spare the animal a glance. He simply stuck his hands in the pockets of his robes and stood next to her, his eyes following her own towards the stars as he let out a quiet sigh of content.
"Good evening, Miss Romanov."
Anastasia didn't move as Dumbledore spoke, her eyes never leaving the sky even after she realized that he had already known of her animagus talent. It was no surprise to her that he had already figured it out.
The man glanced over to the animal on his right and smiled softly before turning his attention back towards the sky. "You've grown rather exceptional at the art of disguise, Miss Romanov," he praised her quietly, not bothering to punish her for being out far past curfew. He could care less about the hour at which it was.
Anastasia still remained in her animagus form, her muscles flexing slightly as the light from the moon beamed off of the black fur on her back. She was waiting for him to lecture her on breaking the rules and yet all he did was speak in praise.
"I've been made aware of a dispute in the Slytherin Common room. Mister Malfoy and Mister Blackwell, from what I can assume from your lack of company. It was also brought to my attention that Mister Blackwell used a particularly nasty curse—"
"It was handled," Anastasia finally spoke, her arms crossed and her robes pulled taught over her body. She felt inclined to protect both boys, her eyes dark at Dumbledore's intrusion on their personal business.
