She wasn't any closer to solving the mission, and she had been up the entire night trying to decipher it. The only thing that made her just a tiny bit less frustrated was that it wasn't time sensitive - yet.
Astoria picked at her grapefruit, deep in thought. Her tea was already cool. Birds? Where was she supposed to find birds? The owlery was obvious, but why not specify owls? Though, they never really sang. A school that was centuries old, coupled with a vague line about birds, was not terribly much to go on. Light at the end of the tunnel . . .
She only looked up when she realised the Great Hall had become unusually silent. Glancing up she saw the reason behind the silence. Draco Malfoy was walking towards the Slytherin table where the seventh years were seated. Three houses all turned to stare at him at once, giving him a venomous look. He hadn't announced his arrival to anyone if the seventh years' expression of shock was anything to go by. Astoria had already carefully masked her face of surprise into a neutral expression. But she was as shocked as the rest of them. What reason could have for coming back to complete his seventh year? Why was he sent back here and who had made that decision?
His robe swished behind him. He was looking ahead with a cool expression as he took his time getting to the front of the hall. Like any Slytherin, wearing a mask of poise with a careless aura was what they could easily return to in unfamiliar situations. His careless gait as he made his way forwards suggested his ease despite the tension hanging heavy in the air. Yet he seemed to be barely restraining himself from walking faster. Perhaps he truly didn't care.
Every pair of Gryffindor eyes followed him with burning spite. They didn't understand that even if Malfoy hadn't found a loophole in the Hogwarts protection charms, the school would still be under the Ministry's authority. And Dumbledore would be dead, one way or another. All he did was fast-track an inevitable process.
Pansy immediately moved closer to Millicent, giving him room to slide between her and Crabbe. Without acknowledgement, he slid into the free space. As of late Pansy seemed to be even more desperate for both his attention and approval. Astoria did understand it, in part.
His reputation was revered, in tatters, or despicable all depending on who you pitched the question to. But amongst the younger Dark Wizards, he was certainly revered for his feats. Pansy claimed she always knew his potential and exactly who he was going to be growing up. But now that he was within the Dark Lords inner-circle, and he was almost eighteen . . . well, she was expecting a marriage invitation any day now.
Except there had been silence from his parents, and he didn't seem to be any more eager to bend down on one knee for her. The longer he wasn't engaged to Pansy Parkinson, the more the possibility increased he was to be wed to someone else. And Parkinson hadn't spent years chasing him to be discarded now. By the time he had sat down, she had already poured a full glass of Pumpkin juice and slid it in front of him.
Astoria had to contain herself from her expression transforming into one of disdain. While she had already resigned herself to the fate of a Sacred Twenty-Eight woman, Pansy wasn't included in the same traditions she was. How could she volunteer to place herself in a gilded cage when all Astoria wanted to do was fly free. Draco Malfoy wasn't going to offer her freedom, he was going to be exactly like his parents and their parents before them.
Astoria's eyes flickered over him on instinct to see if she could pick up anything that would let her know about his recent whereabouts. Any morsel of information could help the Order. But his fine white-blonde hair was neatly combed back, not a strand out of place. His robes were iron-pressed without a single wrinkle in them. And those silver eyes were as cold and impenetrable as iron and seemed to be completely devoid of any light.
The only thing that may give him away was the well-hidden dark circles beneath his eyes. She knew that charmed lotion well because she used it daily. In the right light though, there was just a faint glimmer of the dark sheen that gave away his sleepless nights. So he was busy, then. Still in the inner-circle, still performing tasks for the Dark Lord.
"Draco!" Pansy chirped. "You're back! We weren't expect-"
"And why not?" He interrupted, raising a fine brow.
"No - I - we didn't mean anything by it. Just that - well, you're a Death Eater now, and-"
"Did you forget about Greg and Vincent?" He asked.
"I-I'm just happy you're back." She smiled widely.
With a sigh, Draco got pulled a small silver flask out of his robes, embedded with his family crest, and poured some dark liquor into the cup.
Parkinsons brows shot up, and he threw her a look, daring her to comment. She chose to remain silent.
Goyle slapped him on his back. "Got any extra, mate?"
"No." He slid it back into his robes. Any more questions and he was going to down the entirety of the contents in his flask. He hated the way Pansy was pressed up against him, and the way her heady cranberry perfume overwhelmed him like she was a constant reminder of Christmas. Except, as of late, she had become a gift he was not keen to unwrap. Sometimes she won, when he remembered there was an appearance he had to keep up, and a Pansy Parkinson scorned was the absolute last thing he wanted to deal with.
He took a large gulp from his laced pumpkin juice and welcomed the sharp tang of firewhiskey that accompanied it. The dull ringing in his ears from a stray spell since yesterday night continued incessantly in his ears and he drew his shoulders together in irritation. When he looked up he saw that to the side, a few seats away nestled between some younger Slytherin and Daphne was a pair of bright brown eyes staring right at him.
Astoria was looking at him with that airy look in her eyes, probably from all the wind passing through where her brain ought to be. His lip twitched, threatening to turn into a sneer. "See something you like, Greengrass?"
Her lip twisted upwards in a graceful smile and rested her chin on her palm, not caring in the least she had been unabashedly caught staring. "Admiring those dashing cuff-links; tell me, are they an heirloom or from Augostina? I simply must know."
With a scowl, he turned back to his breakfast. He spent the remainder of his time pushing food around, trying to ignore nausea that roiled in his stomach. There were no signs of the mission he had been on yesterday evening - at least, not outwardly.
With Draco back, the conversation soon veered into what the Death Eaters were up to across the country. The conversation turned to a fight that had happened between some rebels and Ministry officials near Devon. Astoria paled, looking faint as details emerged of the bloodshed.
Pansy shot Astoria a look that held a mixture of exasperation and contempt, making it clear she thought the younger Greengrass was quite pathetic. "Really, Astoria? You should be proud of what they're all doing to keep the order. I want to marry a brave soldier like that."
Draco had to stop himself from allowing his eyes to roll back into his head in exasperation. Brave. He should drag her along for those operations he was on, and see what she still thought about Bravery.
But how could he expect any other sort of reply from her. She was always there for him. It was only Pansy's eyes that could burn with conviction as she ripped away his clothes piece by piece like she couldn't get enough of him. Pansy who fought tooth-and-nail in third year to get Hagrid fired for what that stupid oversized chicken had done to him. It hadn't hurt much, but her reaction was when he had truly begun noticing her. The way he rarely had to question her loyalty was relaxing in a way he rarely felt.
Yet Pansy's words weren't relaxing him to him now. Evidently, they weren't to other people at the table either.
Daphne had been around Pansy long enough to know her tales of disdain, and whether out of familial duty or an opportunity for a petty swipe at Pansy, her older sister leapt in to defend her. "Astoria's never liked violence. You know that. Plus, in our household, we were told to keep such matters from the morning table. But of course, that may just be a Sacred Twenty-Eight thing."
The look Pansy rewarded her looked so pained it was hard to take it as a smile. In Slytherin, nothing was more important that public perception. Wealth and achievements were tossed around with mock nonchalance just to signal that the more powerful they were, the less they cared. But nothing was a better than the hallmark of being a Sacred Twenty-Eight.
The whiskey finally took hold, giving him a gentle numbing feeling. Finally, he glanced up and joined whatever bullshit they were talking about as the final emotion that lingered from yesterday night was successfully smothered.
One Hour Later
"Tell your parents we're all grateful for their new donation, it has helped our cause tremendously." Amycus had a great grin on his face, if only for the fact he could count himself as an official Death Eater. His face was already covered in a light sheen of sweat, and he wiped at a ruddy cheek with the back of his robe. The corridor was empty, with the first class not bound to begin for another twenty minutes. He had caught her while she was exploring the hallways, trying to figure out what the birds meant. The overcast sky threw large shadows across the castle that engulfed them too.
"Why of course. Any way we can make your lives easier, Professor Carrow." She tittered.
"I'm sure they'll be, how'll we say - thrilled? Thrilled at your new schedule." He was giving Astoria a giddy look. They weren't just interested in gaining a reputation as Eaters. They wanted to be respected by the upper echelons of society.
"I'm sure they'll be delighted. But it's an awful amount of studying, and perhaps I should continue with fifth year. I keep getting spells confused." Her eyes were big and lost.
His face soured. "That the lies those mudblood loving folk been feeding you over the years?"
Now she was veering into dangerous territory. There was no way to veer the conversation into a safer place to convince him to allow her to just take her fifth year courses without Amycus taking it as a personal insult.
As the socialite she was, her fifth year reputation had spread like wildfire and had become a well-known fact in only a week. The Carrows had decided to take it upon themselves to place her back to her 'rightful place', stating that she had been a scapegoat for Dumbledores administration. But they had convinced themselves that the sixth year Slytherins were more intelligent than their classmates. Since the first day of the school year the Carrows had thrown the sixth year Slytherins into seventh year courses.
"Perhaps a little, oh they were ever so rude to me over the years just because I was a pureblood. But you're right, of course. I do belong with the upper years. I am a Greengrass, after all." She said.
It was only fighting tooth-and-nail with McGonagall that her schedule was now nearly all sixth and seventh year courses, with the exception of her fifth year transfiguration repeat. Astoria had hoped McGonagall would've fought harder. Now she was going to be in classes with the Death Eaters she was trying to avoid. She never wanted to be in their direct line of sight, just in their periphery.
Amycus gave a slight nod of his head. "Right, well. Best be off to class, Greengrass. Wouldn't want to be late and get any sort of punishment." He leered at her. Something in that moment told her that Amycus Carrow would seek power wherever he could.
"Oh Merlin is it already so late? Thank you, Deputy Headmaster Carrow, if I could give you house points I would!" She said, already rushing off. Behind her she head him chuckle.
The corridors were still silent. There was still an entire fifteen minutes until Muggle Studies began. Amycus had just become a little too excited at meeting it punishment, it seemed. The wind picked up, whipping her robe.
As she arrived to Muggle Studies she was surprised there was already someone else in the classroom. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff classmates Fawcett and Stebbins sat close to each other as always. They could be the fantastic poster children for inter-house relations if that didn't include shagging in every corner of the school they could before they graduated. Clearly, they had taken to heart McGonagall's message about inter-house relations a little too enthusiastically.
The room soon began piling in with students, the chatter increasing. The Baccio twins came in whispering furiously to each other and sat on the opposite room of Astoria, not having noticed her at all. Alecto came striding into the room to stand by the front of the board, hands laced behind her back as her eyes flickered over the students expectantly. Her hair was in its usual tight knoll.
Crabbe and Goyle came swaggering into the room with their sleeves rolled up, revealing their Dark Mark that stood stark against their pale skin. Several students instantly became uneasy, and Hannah Abbott looked downright nauseous. The chatter there had been before was subdued with the Eaters in the room now, and Amycus smiled in response.
Malfoy entered right before Muggle Studies began, fully robed and quietly taking a corner seat next to Parkinson. Her hand was on his back instantly, rubbing affectionately. He stared straight ahead, giving no acknowledgement to her comforting attitude.
"Welcome to Muggle Studies. I'll get straight to it, I suppose. We'll be doing things differently this year, according to the new Ministry guidelines. It's quite good if I say so myself. Learnin' real things, true things, this year. Today we'll start off with-"
"Where's Professor Burbage?" Neville interrupted.
Amycus' eyes narrowed at him before she leaned back on her heels with a sharp smile. "You must be Longbottom. I've been hearin' a lot of you. I was expecting . . . more."
"We won't listen to rubbish stories about muggles, it's barbaric and it's stupid," Neville said.
Amycus' lip curled. "How obstinate you are. And such uncouth language. It's like an animal raised you. One course, one cannot expect better of muggle sympathisers."
"We learned who they are. We can almost survive in their world without magic now. Your lies won't work." Neville snapped.
"Under Ms. Burbage, of course. Select nurture and corrupted grades, she's allowed you to grow more daring in your attempts at mismanaging the reputation of this elite school. Fortunately, Ms. Burbage was . . . encouraged. . . to move on to a place more suitable for her."
Astoria was trying to understand what was going on. She didn't know the Carrows personally yet. But not putting the very blood-traitors she hated with a passion gleefully back into their place struck her as unexpected. Amycus didn't look insulted at all.
At the mention of Burbage a smirk had developed on Carrows face. She knew where or what had happened to Charity Burbage.
"Twenty points for your childish interruption," Amycus said.
Crossing his arms he leaned back in his seat with a scowl. "House points don't mean anythin' this year."
"Have any of you heard of Adorpherious Bennett?" Amycus asked, eyes wandering around the room, brows raised in appraisal as if Neville hadn't spoken back. "Hm? No one? No, I suspected as much. The Ministry has been dragged down into cowardice for too long. Of course, they hid this story from you all. They have pretended if they don't acknowledge the brutal murders of our magical community, then they ceased to exist."
"Murders?" Parkinson yelped. Several Gryffindors and Huffepuffs were already scowling at the way this was going.
"Brutal slaughtering. The muggles cannot fathom our power, and so they destroy what they cannot have and what they do not understand. Bennett was a witch innocently walking down the street in a muggle-populated area. She was stabbed without remorse. She died before a witch could heal her. Twenty points to the student who can show us another tragic example."
Bulstrode rose her hand, jewellery on her arm jangling. Her pretty almond coloured eyes lit up with excitement. "Seamus Durmont, just three years ago. A mob of muggles tore him apart in Romania with a knife."
"Doubt a knife could take down Millie, she's well insulated against muggle attacks." Goyle whispered to Nott who smothered his amusement in the crook of his sleeve.
The boys called her 'Beefy Bulstrode' behind her back, and Astoria had heard more than one jibe about the flab beneath her arms when she was out of earshot. She rarely ate in the Great Hall, but when no one was looking she'd make up for it when she snuck into the kitchens.
Undoubtedly they were now thinking of the time she had tried to use physical force against Granger during a duel one time. Such a muggle thing to do, and she had been on the receiving end of some dark taunts for her vulgar actions. It had been so bad Snape had to shut down the vitriol, though he let an entire year go by without remorse before stepping in.
"Don't forget Amelie Adelbrecht. Oh what that awful muggle boy did to her, I can't even bear to speak about it." Pansy cried with horror, clutching onto Draco.
"That is the world we live in." Amycus cried, jabbing her finger at the landscape outside the window. "That is what you should have been taught. I am here to give you a proper education now. It is my duty to keep you safe!"
Several of the Slytherins gave a shout of approval. Several of the Hufflepuffs were looking queasy.
"What's the matter? Can't handle the real world?" Pansy jibed at the Gryffindors, whose lips were tightly lined with fury. No one noticed that all of those cases were more than two decades apart.
"Little lions aren't so brave anymore." Goyle said.
"That's not the real world. It's a lie. Muggles aren't dangerous." A boy suddenly snarled from across the room. The Slytherins went silent and Amycus whipped her head towards the seventh year Hufflepuff.
"A lie?" At that moment Amycus had never reminded her more of Dolores Umbridge.
"It's not a lie!" Someone's voice cried out. All heads snapped over to the sudden source of the outburst.
Even her long hair couldn't hide her bright yellow robes. It was Lena Ophelia Tilridge. When she had found out Astoria was repeating the year whilst she moved onto her sixth she had snorted in amusement.
"We- . . . the muggle world is unsafe for us. We can't act freely anymore, not with all of them around us. And their population just keeps growing; multiply like rabbits. People like my father are just working in the Ministry to ensure our safety, just tightening up the regulations." She replied defensively. "Look what happened in the past when we tried to speak with them. They tied us down and burned us alive."
Amycus' face had deepened with fury. "Muggles, they breed and they breed without remorse. All of them are within the family too, just because it's the first ones they can get their hands on. Inbreeding has rotted their brains!" Amycus cried.
"You sure you're not a muggle, then?" Seamus asked with a provocative grin as Dean high-fived him beneath the table.
Astoria tuned out in the commencing chaos that ensued. That was the first time Seamus Finnigan got detention. It wouldn't be his last. The moment class ended everyone was hasty to get up and leave that room.
Everyone's voices became louder the further away from Amycus they were. The Gryffindors were in an uproar over the treatment of muggleborns while the Eaters were laughing uproariously over the Gryffindors response.
Dallying down the spiralling stairs she waited until the last student passed her by, and with no one paying attention she slipped into the corridor on the left. Her exploring commenced, while she ruminated over the class.
The whole class had been chaos. And Astoria was fairly sure the only reason why Amycus had humoured the students for so long was to find out who the dissenters were much easier. Allow them to speak freely now, to silence them later.
Two Hours Later
The paintings were chattering away through the school. She had tried in vain to ask them if they knew anything about birds. She had received several facts on Cardinals, two tales on ravens, and one rant against the youth's obsession with Phoenix's.
With a sigh, she realised she had ended up back at the tower with all the moving staircases. It was nearly dinner, she best just take the stairs leading her back to the Slytherin dorm and change beforehand. Merlin, however, would she looked if there was even one wrinkle on her robes.
Astoria slid onto the staircase and began walking upwards, ready to jump onto the connecting floor.
Except the staircase is taking her to exactly a floor she doesn't want to be at, like it decided to take its own route. With a groan of frustration, she leaned against the railing. "Can we not do this today?"
With a dull thud, the stairs stopped at another entry facing East. Well, she was just going to wait until it went right back to the Northern staircase leading towards the Slytherin dungeons. The seconds ticked by, and the charmed staircase seemed adamant about not moving back. Stubborn thing. "Is this what you want?" She asked, then snorted. Maybe she had gone mad, trying to converse with a flight of stairs.
Astoria popped off and did a curtsy. "There, is that better? Now, can I-"
But the stairs moved with rapid speed and she didn't have time to step back on. With a scowl she saw it return to the Slytherin hallway, patiently waiting for any students who need a ride. Muttering curses at the stairs beneath her breath she set off down the passage the moving staircase had decided she should go through.
Cobwebs heavy with dust filled the crooks and crevices of the tunnel.
Odd. It was as if no one had been here in ages. But surely the staircase had led people here before. If she had to guess, Slytherin houses domain was now running parallel to where she walked through. Midway down the hall, there was a winding staircase. Curiosity took over and she began walking down the old spiralling stones.
She went all the way down to the ground floor. Out the window, she could see the unkempt autumn grass swaying against the side of the tower. There was another long tunnel, with several ancient tapestries adorning the walls. Swords held in the hands of warrior muggles swung back and forth, red and blue spells were shot out of wands in depictions of epic duels, running off the tapestry.
As she walked past the fourth one she paused for a moment. It had felt like a cold stream of air had blown against her ankles. She took a slow step back and felt the draft against. Furrowing her brows she reached behind the purple tapestry.
There was a spiralling staircase that led down into a dungeon. A dungeon no one had been in for a very long time. Taking out her wand she held it loosely by her side, deciding to go below ground.
It led her into a medium-sized room, with a torch automatically lighting up the moment her toe touched the floor. It was damp, and the stones sucked the warmth out of the room.
As she looked around the room it suddenly occurred to her that Draco had remained silent throughout Muggle Studies. She would've thought he would be the first to speak up and bemoan the impure in their society. Before she could dissect that thought further, she was distracted by the empty painting in the corner of the room. The only object in the room beside the torch. Whichever witch or wizard had lived there had seemingly packed up.
Astoria couldn't blame the painting, it must be dismal to be placed down here. And why would someone put a painting down there in the first place?
Putting her hands on her hips she scrutinised the location. It was certainly musty alright, and the level of dust in this room was atrocious. But no one had been in these tunnels for what appeared to be decades, minimum. This was it. This was perfect.
This was where she was going to set up her little shop, starting with creating some healing and Polyjuice potions. No one would find this place any time soon.
Guest: thank you! Right now theyre both trying to to avoid each other (for different reasons) so their lives become entwined in an unexpected way. Just a few chapters away. but I wanted build some groundwork first. And she'll be taking more action soon, since right now she's setting herself up for the year so she's more observational atm, but not for long.