Author's Note: Another two-parter! (You know you love these things, so shhhh) It was actually kind of hard to split this chapter up, but I think I found a good part. Forgive me if the pacing is off. And I tried to format it so it is readable. Erm... enjoy?


ON THE OTHER SIDE

Chapter 7: The Master of Memory

It was not until February that Astoria began to realize how much of a puppet she had become in the past five months of her fifth year at Hogwarts.

Only Merlin knew what Theo Nott was up to: he kept dropping books in her lap, odd things that she had never read before. She read authors like Aristotle and Plato in the original Greek, Plutarch, Seneca, Machiavelli, Hobbes, and Locke—they all turned out to be Muggles concerned with political philosophy… and she gobbled them up, especially the Greek texts because she had been learning the language since she was a toddler as a part of her Pureblood curriculum. Then there were old documents with fragile, yellowed pages, like "The Superitoriee of Purebloods," "A Tretes of Pureblood Warlocks," "A Studie of Blood Superioritee." These texts were countered by more modern studies and manifestos entitled "An Argument Against Pureblood Superiority," "A Quantitative Study of Pureblood, Halfblood, and Muggle-born Blood," and "A Survey of Interactions between Purebloods and Non-Purebloods and the Effects on Wizarding Society." Also, there were books about Dark Magic that Astoria shuddered while reading but then could not put down, followed by books about defense against Dark Magic and dueling strategies. She hardly knew what to make of it, yet her horizons had broadened on topics she had not considered before; suddenly, the world was bigger, scarier, and more fascinating than ever. Either way, Theo was trying to make some point that she had yet to grasp, which she found highly disconcerting.

There were also the Carrows to reckon with. Astoria kept count of the students she tortured. There were three before the winter holidays (Lavender Brown, Susan Bones, and Anthony Goldstein), then Neville Longbottom. She had hoped that there would be four students that had no recollection of what passed that night. By the end of January, however, she realized that there were only three.

She had been walking down the hallway to go to Dark Arts class when she felt someone tug at her elbow. Her first reaction was to jerk away, but she was held so firmly and closely that she could feel hot breath at her ear, so she didn't pull away or turn around, afraid of what she might see.

"I know what you did," said the voice. Her elbow was released and the figure walked on, only to turn around and acknowledge her for a moment. Neville Longbottom never looked more triumphant, not even when he was stifling his screams while under the Cruciatus.

Suddenly, she had a third force to reckon with: the fickle and dangerous Dumbledore's Army.

Her knees nearly collapsed under her after Longbottom left her standing in the hallway. She leaned against a wall for support, feeling like all her plans had come crashing down in the blink of an eye. She could handle Nott's clandestine plans. She could handle the Carrows' cruelty. But Longbottom? No, it was too much.

It took her a few minutes to gather herself and by the time she walked into class, Amycus Carrow was telling everyone to open their books. He did not bat an eye to her slight tardiness (a blessing of being a Slytherin and the Carrows personal pet), but Stupid Sodding Summerby was concerned.

"Are you alright?" he whispered. "You look pale."

"Fine," Astoria managed to respond tersely.

"Astoria, your hand is shaking," he added softly, his brown eyes intently focused on her. Indeed, her hand was shaking; she closed her hand into a fist and shoved the guilty evidence under the table. "Is everything alright?"

"No," the word fell from her mouth. She quickly added, "Drop it, Summerby." She could see him study her out of the corner of her eyes for a moment before he sighed and opened his book. They continued in silence.


The whispers started in the first week of February. Draco thought it was a ridiculous, ludicrous, and preposterous rumor, but the students seemed to gobble it up. Everyone was very careful not to let teachers overhear it. The last thing they needed was to hand over their savior to the Carrows.

No, it was not The-Boy-Who-Would-Not-Fucking-Die (also known as "Potter"). They called the student "The Master of Memory". Draco admitted it had a ring to it if there was any possibility that the rumor was true.

The students of Hogwarts were saying that there was a Slytherin that had been cleaning up the Carrows dirty work by wiping the memories of students who were tortured with the Cruciatus Curse, sparing them from ever having to relive the experience inside their head. They called it "an act of mercy"; even more than that, "A quiet deed of defiance." It seemed to give the poor, deluded Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Ravenclaws the wrong idea: that there was a Slytherin on their side. He laughed about it quite a bit to himself until Nott caught his sneering grin.

"You do not believe it, Malfoy?"

"Why should I?" he nearly laughed.

"Why should you not?" Nott innocently retorted and sauntered away. It was an excellent and terrible question. Suddenly, the lines began to blur.


"Well, it is you, is it not, Astoria?" Theo inquired one day. She did not dare to respond. "Of course it is you," he said more softly. "You hate the Carrows. And you are quite proficient in Memory Charms," he mused. "No matter," he waved his hand flippantly. "The only problem is going to be keeping this a secret."

"How?" she whispered.

"Why are you digging yourself a hole, Astoria?" Theo asked, ignoring her question. "I ask you to keep your head down and you go off and do this." She hardly knew what to say.

"I hate them so much," she whispered. "Once I started, I could not stop."

"But you messed up."

"Longbottom," Astoria said simply. Then, she thoughtfully added as a sort of excuse, "He begged me not to."

"Longbottom, eh?" Theo mused aloud. "Let us hope he keeps this to himself. In the meanwhile, I think it is best that we focus on damage control and preventative measures."

"How?" she whispered again, beginning to feel like a broken record.

"Well, if Snape marched up to you right now and asked you if you knew anything about the shady 'Master of Memory' character, what would happen?" Astoria began to respond, but Theo cut her off. "The man is a skilled Legilimens, Astoria. Unless you learn Occlumency, you do not have a chance."

"How am I going to learn Occlumency?" she fiercely whispered.

"From Malfoy, naturally," Theo shrugged with a most wicked smile on his face. Astoria raised an eyebrow.

"Are you fucking shitting me?"


"Are you fucking shitting me?" Draco Malfoy hissed at Theodore Nott. The audacity! The impudence! Who was Nott to give him, Draco Lucius Malfoy, orders? Draco tried not to make a habit of swearing because there were many other more clever ways to be insulting and vulgar, but Nott's orders caught him so off-guard that the words tumbled from his mouth. At least they sounded quite scathing.

"Funny you should say that," Nott muttered and Draco waited for him to explain the joke he was inwardly laughing at, only to be left unsatisfied. "But no matter. You heard me quite right, Malfoy. Astoria needs Occlumency lessons."

"Why?"

"The reasons are not important," he said dismissively. Draco began to wonder why he had placed any power in Nott's hands in the first place. "But she needs them as soon as possible. She will come to you when she realizes that it is in everyone's best interest."

"I will not help Little Greengrass."

"You refuse, then?"

"I do not take orders from you, Nott," Draco hissed.

"Oh no, only from Father Dearest and the Dark Lord. Forgive me, Malfoy, I had forgotten," Nott sarcastically beguiled him with saccharine condescension. Draco began to walk away, tiring of Nott's insufferable attitude and his irreverent treatment of him. "You forget, Malfoy, that Astoria has dirt on all of us. If her secrets spill, yours will be close to follow. We cannot even begin to imagine what that pair of green eyes has seen." Draco's steps faltered as he considered this. Once again, he was between a rock and a hard place.

"So, Occlumency?" he asked lazily. Nott gave him a satisfied smile.

"She will come to you."


She told Theo Nott that he had gone completely mad if he thought that she would willingly allow Draco Malfoy, The Great Git, to meddle with her mind. There had to be some other way… which she informed Theo of, and then he proceeded to laugh at her.

"Alright, Astoria," he gave her a bemused smirk. "When you fail, go to Malfoy." She scathingly informed Theo that she would not fail and left the room. Of course, Theo was a sneaky bastard at times and turned out to be right.

She had been sitting in the library, minding her own business and doing her homework, when Fiona Davis, Tracey Davis' younger sister, sat down next to her. Astoria nodded to the Ravenclaw by way of a greeting and they studied in complete silence for a few minutes, huddled in a reclusive corner of the library. After five or so minutes, a piece of parchment slid across the table. Astoria glanced at it for a moment and her eyes flickered to Fiona, who looked at her for a fleeting second, glanced back at the parchment, and then returned to the book she was reading. Astoria looked at the parchment again.

Neville would like to remind you that he knows.

Astoria frowned, unsure what to think. Had Fiona chosen a side? Did her sister know? Did Longbottom really know what she thought he knew? What did Longbottom want from her? Why was he using Fiona as a messenger?

I do not know what you are talking about, Astoria wrote, deciding to play it safe.

He said you would say that. He told me to mention that he still sees the world in black and white.

Astoria sucked in her breath. So he did remember what Astoria feared he would: he remembered her.

Are you a messenger?

Yes, but I know, she wrote. Astoria met eyes with the girl, who quickly added, Only Neville and I know. The rest of the DA has been kept out of the loop.

But there are whispers…

Inevitable, Fiona wrote. After careful consideration, Astoria printed her next question.

Why you?

Because I am the only one who knows how Slytherins operate, considering my older sister is one. And because you and I occasionally study together.

It seemed simple enough to Astoria. What do you want? she wrote, now rather angry.

Neville and I will keep your secret as long as he is able to call in a favor.

What sort of favor? Astoria asked skeptically, not liking the sound of this deal.

Whatever Neville needs at the time, was the response. Astoria sucked in her breath.

And what if I refuse?

Then the secret is out. The words looked so cold and angry on the parchment.

You do realize, Astoria wrote, trying to keep her hand from shaking with malice, that if it comes out, I will probably be tortured to an inch of my life, if I am lucky? Death Eaters do not take too kindly to traitors.

I know, Fiona wrote and there seemed to be sympathy in her words. But this is war.

Then you have chosen a side. Astoria wrote it as a statement, not a question. There was a long pause before Fiona wrote again.

Neville is a good leader, but he is wrong about one thing: the world isn't all black and white. And sometimes, it's not about sides. To each their own.

Astoria eyed Fiona carefully. She understood—she, a Ravenclaw, understood that there were things people did out of necessity to survive, that there was a grey area, and that the tight rope Astoria walked was precarious at best. Astoria at last nodded. The deal was made and Fiona tapped her wand on the parchment, which crumbled into a pile of dust. Astoria created a burst of air from her wand to scatter the dust, and the two continued to work in silence.

However, when Astoria left the library, she immediately sought out The Great Git.

"I need you to teach me Occlumency," she whispered to Malfoy when they were alone in the common room.

"I know," he whispered back, seeming rather disgruntled by the situation. Astoria was a bit surprised he did not put up a dramatic fuss. "6 AM Saturday, behind the Quidditch pitch." She nodded and he left.

Saturday morning, she stood before him with his wand inches from her nose.

"Close your mind," he said.

"What do you mean?" she tried to say, but before she could finish her sentence, she was four years old and petting the muzzle of a giant, grey, winged Granian horse by the name of Eyvindr.


It was a grey February morning. The fog had not cleared and created a haze low on the ground that was quite pleasant to walk through. Draco lived for days like this, when everything was so grey that he blended into his surroundings. The grass was wet with dew as he trudged across the grounds to give Little Greengrass Occlumency lessons. He was still a bit amazed with himself that he was actually following through with his promise. He suspected that he had never been quite this nice in his entire life, and even now he could excuse his niceness with selfish reason—after all, Nott was right that Little Greengrass was a liability who they had to remain accountable to: her actions directly affected their lives and visa versa. But even more, he was curious to see what went on in Little Greengrass' warped mind—or he suspected that she was every bit as fucked up as the rest of them.

She was there early, gazing at the mountains at the back of the school. She heard him approach and turned around to face him, bundled up in a thick robes that made her look tinier than ever.

"Greengrass."

"Malfoy," she said by way of greeting.

"Well, this is as unpleasant for me as it is for you."

"I could think of many synonyms for that word 'unpleasant' whose strength, I believe, would be more appropriate to this occasion," she quipped.

"Have you ever been told that you are quite the snob?" Draco smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. She blinked, which he took as a sign of being taken aback. Nonetheless, she retorted without missing a beat.

"Have you ever been told that you are an arrogant prick?" she asked. Draco pulled out his wand, twirling it threateningly.

"How much do you know about Occlumency, Greengrass?"

"Only what I have read in books. I have done some research in the library this week and I have found that most of the texts had rather vague instructions."

"You did not understand them?" he mockingly inquired, inwardly laughing at her suddenly flustered appearance.

"It was not a matter of understanding. It was a matter of elucidation," Little Greengrass hotly responded. "The texts were poorly written and not specific enough to satisfy my curiosity."

"Of course," Draco drawled. "Blame the books."

"Well, how did you learn?" Little Greengrass asked huffily.

"From my dear Auntie Bellatrix," he said coldly, "with much practice and by experience, which is the only way to truly learn Occlumency. The silly books that you fill your juvenile mind with are useless." Little Greengrass clenched her jaw in indignation. Draco was possibly having too much fun making her angry.

"Alright. I am ready," she said once she had calmed herself, seeming to brace her body for some sort of impact. She looked so childish and young that Draco wanted to laugh aloud as he pointed his wand at her. He had not performed Legilimency much and hoped he would not fail. However, he remembered his dear Auntie Bellatrix and Severus Snape trying it on him and instinctively knew what he had to do.

His father said that to get the truth out of someone or to intimidate, all one had to do was look them directly in the eyes. Because he inherited his father's cool, grey eyes, this proved to be rather easy; Pansy told him that his piercing gaze could freeze a room. Additionally, his mother always said that the eyes were the windows to the soul. Legilimency was about penetrating the mind and the easiest way into the mind was by way of emotion. And Little Greengrass was secretly an emotional wreck.

For the first time ever, he looked at Little Greengrass… really looked at her. Her eyes were the most fucking unnerving thing he had ever seen. They were the palest green, so light against her fair, dull skin and dark, flat hair and dark lashes. Her eyes were huge too, just looking at him and waiting for him to do something. Her face structure was unremarkable—really, she looked rather pinched, like she hadn't been eating well for months. She had thin lips and freckles on her nose. She was not ugly, but not really pretty by any means. His mother would have called her "plain," just to be nice. But Little Greengrass' eyes were something remarkable. Perhaps his mother was right: the Greengrass eyes never seem to hypno —no. She was Little Greengrass and she was a messed up little girl with weird eyes—weird eyes that he had to look straight into to penetrate her mind.

"Close your mind," he said and before she could protest, he said "Legilimens" and he was four years old. Actually, he was not four years old, but she was four years old, but it was like he was her and he could feel all she felt and see, hear, touch, taste, and smell all that she could. It was as though he was trapped inside her body and one thing was for sure: Little Greengrass was in amazement...

...

The winged horse was giant, like nothing she had seen before. It was giant and grey and the biggest and most beautiful thing she had seen in her entire life and Papa was quite pleased that she had won 150 Galleons off of the long-shot Granian horse that she had bet only five Galleons on. But that did not matter at all because the horse was so big and beautiful and when she looked into his big, dark eyes, she knew that the horse—Eyvindr—was going to win because nothing that wonderful could not win.

"Not too close now," said Papa, but she did not care and crept closer and closer until the horse bent his head down. His head was almost as big as her entire body and he looked so soft, so she placed a hand on the horse and petted him. She leaned in closer and gently pulled the soft ear toward her.

"Hello, Eyvindr," she whispered in the winged horse's ear. "I knew you would win."

...

She was five and she was running barefoot, the soft grass under her toes and the wind in her hair and the hill with the swing in sight. She ran because she was sad and angry and it was not fair that she could not be like Daphne.

...

"Astoria, please sit up straight like your sister."

"Astoria, do you see Daphne asking such questions? Please desist."

"Your sister does not slide down the banister and neither should you."

"Astoria, may you please sit still and be good like Daphne?"

"Astoria, put your book away and go practice the piano so you will be as good as Daphne."

"Your sister managed to keep her dress clean. Why is yours covered in dirt?"

"Astoria, do not run through the house. Walk, like your sister."

"Astoria, for a moment, can you be a nice, good, and proper little girl?

...

Daphne's curls were perfect. Golden blonde, soft, shiny and bouncy—her mother could touch those curls all day. Astoria looked at herself in the mirror. Wide green eyes, face freckled and tanned skin from staying outside, and brown hair that laid limp, with the exception of her fringe, which had to be tamed with a dousing of water.

"Daphne, darling, you look like an angel," her mother said, at last putting the final touches on smiley Daphne's hair. Her mother came over to her, stroked her dark hair, pinned her fringe back with a fancy clip, declared it "lovely" and left them to change into their ball dresses.

...

Papa was home. She could hear the door open because Papa always liked to Apparate to the edge of grounds and then walk home on a nice day because he liked the wonderful green grass of the Greengrass Estate as she did. The door opened and she dashed out of her room, slid down the banister, and ran shouting into his arms. He was the best man in the entire world and he smelled like old books and cigar smoke and made her feel so happy.

"Papa! Papa!" she joyously cried into his pant leg.

"Astoria! Astoria!" he called back before pulling her up so her feet were on top of his and then he walked and spun her around and it was the best part of the day.

...

"Papa! Papa!"

"Astoria! Astoria!"

"I am so glad you are home!" She was lifted onto Papa's hip. "I so very badly wanted to read a book in the library, but Mummy made me practice dancing. Can we do a puzzle together and read tonight? I would like it very much."

"Of course, luv. Anything for my little girl."

...

Her fingers would never run across the piano keys as nice as Daphne's did. She tried so hard but she became nervous from everyone watching and listening that her fingers could help but stumble. At last, with tears blurring her vision, she banged her hand against the piano in frustration and ran out from the room and then out of the house, slamming the door behind her as she took off for the tree with the swing.

...

"It is time to go home, Astoria."

"I do not want to go home, Papa," she responded sullenly, her legs dangling off the swing.

"Your mother is very sad."

"I am very sad."

"Why are you sad?"

"Because I am very bad at being a good little girl." Papa found this funny and chuckled.

"Even if that was true, I would not have you change for all the winged horses in the world."

"That is a lot of horses, Papa."

"I know, luv. Let's go home."

...

"Why are they yelling about you?"

"Why are you hiding here?" was the quiet response.

"Because I do not want you to go, Uncle Alastair," she whispered, peering up at the lanky, green-eyed man before her.

"These are complicated adult matters, Tori," he tried to explain, rubbing his forehead.

"Papa says that sometimes adults do very silly things," she responded, making the man wryly grinned. "Besides, if you go, who will do puzzles with me and tell me riddles and answer all my questions?"

"Your papa will."

"Papa is often tired after he is home from work and Mummy says I need to learn to hold my tongue. Who shall I have on my side, then?" she sorrowfully inquired. "Uncle Alastair, you cannot just leave me…" she began to cry. But he did leave, right then and there. He kissed her forehead and walked out the door without another word.

...

"So that was the man at the platform?" Draco asked, at last recognizing the familiar face. "That man was your uncle?" Little Greengrass could not even look up at him or respond. She had fallen to her knees, shaken, pale, and panting. "Was he disowned?"

"None of your business," Little Greengrass finally managed to hiss.

"Ah, struck a nerve there, did I not? Well, that will hardly help things. Are you even going to try stopping me, Little Greengrass?" Draco asked.

"I—I do not even know how!"

"Close your mind."

"I do not even know what that means!" she protested, angry tears forming in her eyes. Merlin, was she going to start crying on him? He did not volunteer for waterworks.

"Close your mind. Detach yourself from the world," he tried to explain, but really, he wanted to see what Little Greengrass would reveal next. "Pull yourself together, Greengrass and try to push me out of your mind. Legilimens."

...

"I love you, Tori. You are the best sister in the world."

"I love you too, Daph." And she meant it.

...

Lightning lit up the window and the thunder boomed over the sound of her door creaking open.

"Tori?" Daphne whispered in the dark. She stirred and rolled over. "Can I sleep with you?"

"Why?" she asked as another bolt of lightning lit up the room. She could see her sister's eyes widen with fear. The thunder made the windows rattle and Daphne skittered over to her bed and leapt under the covers.

"Because it's scary," Daphne muttered.

"I'm not sure how to make it less scary… maybe try telling yourself that Merlin is playing Exploding Snap or something."

"So I can stay here?" Daphne asked anxiously.

"Yes."

"Good." Within minutes, Daphne's breathing became deep and even. Not long after, she fell asleep admiring the way that Daphne's blonde hair shone like gold in the glow of the lightning.

...

Mummy was really mad at her for running in the house and knocking over the ugly vase. Mummy did not even like the vase, so she thought she was doing Mummy a favor, but apparently not. So, she was hiding in the cabinet under the sink in the back of the cellar until Papa came home and she could have someone on her side.

"Mummy is really mad," whispered a voice in the dark.

"I know, Daph."

"You shouldn't be hiding down here."

"Why?"

"Because I love you and I want you to come upstairs so I won't be alone."

"Alright." She got out of the cabinet. She could suffer the consequences if Daph would stay with her.

...

"I do not know what to do with her, Thomas."

"She is precocious, that is all, Calliope."

"Will she grow out of it?"

"I reckon not, and if she does, I will never forgive her."

"Thomas! You are setting her up to be ostracized!"

"Just humor the girl. It is difficult to be as bright as ten-year-olds when you are only seven. She is not made of sugar and spice like Daphne."

"We cannot let her just recklessly run her mouth off, nor can we fill her mind with silly notions."

"Daphne's mind is filled with as many silly notions as Astoria's is. Let little girls be little girls. Astoria just needs to know her limits. It would not hurt for her to have an outlet. I was thinking horseback riding lessons."

They heard her squeal in delight from her hiding spot at the top of the staircase and told her to go to bed, but she did not sleep a wink that night.

...

It was like flying. The horse was cantering now and her body instinctively knew what to do, rocking with the movement of the horse.

When she jumped, her heart fluttered as the pony neatly picked up its hooves over the elevated pole. It was the easiest, most natural thing and she knew that Mummy was on the sidelines, closing her eyes in fear.

...

The blue ribbons lined her wall. Finally, she was better at something than Daphne. And Mummy seemed happy, even though she was always scared that she was going to die.

...

The pony caught his hoof on the jump and she was pitched over his neck and fell with a sickening crack onto the dust. Her arm hurt but she picked herself up and began to dust herself off as her mother and the trainer ran toward her.

"Mummy, my arm hurts." It was odd that her mother was crying more than she was.

...

"You do not have to ride anymore if you are afraid."

"But I am not afraid, Mummy. I am not afraid of anything."

...

She giggled at a joke that she was not supposed to be giggling about. She had been hiding in her father's study while he had some guests over and they were so much more interesting than her mother and sister talking with the other women. She faked a stomachache to escape and hid under the cart that the House Elf, Dop, pushed into the study to hear the men's conversation.

"Well, look what the House Elf dragged in," her father said with an amused glint in his olive green eyes. "Everyone, this is my youngest, Astoria. Say hello, luv." She was lifted into his arms.

"Hello gentlemen," she said shyly.

"What were you giggling about, luv?"

"That sir's statement regarding the statue that is being vandalized. You cannot put a fence around a statue that is supposed to represent freedom. That's ironic or perhaps plain silly, I suppose." All the men laughed uproariously and she smiled a really big smile. "And sir, I would not hit the four ball," Astoria pointed at the billiard table. "You have a much better angle at the two ball and then you may block your opponent's next move." All the men adored her and she sat on her father's lap prattling away until her mother burst in the room demanding to know if her father had seen her.

...

She did not care if she was supposed to be nice to Draco Malfoy. He was a mean boy.

"This is not a book for little girls like you."

"But Papa says that all books are for little boys and girls! I just want to read it! I promise I will give it right back!"

"No, it is my book!" Astoria scowled and tried to grab the book, but just then her mother and Mrs. Malfoy walked in.

"Astoria! That is uncalled for!"

"He would not share! I wanted to read his book and he says that it is a book for little boys, not little girls and that is a lie and lying is a very naughty thing to do!" She thought it sounded quite convincing. Her mother looked at the title of the book and flipped through the pages.

"This looks like a challenging book," he mother said simply.

"Well, I am not stupid!" Astoria cried out, tears now brimming in her eyes. "I can read tricky books like Daphne reads! It is not fair!"

"Astoria, that is enough. We are among company and you are embarrassing yourself. Go play outside," her mother sighed, suddenly looking very tired.

"I am not stupid," she repeated and ran outside.

...

Who keeps a peacock in their garden anyway? The Malfoys were weird.

...

Draco emerged from Little Greengrass' mind laughing—really laughing, all the way from deep in his stomach, the sort of laugh he had not had in years. And Little Greengrass looked perplexed, peeved, and perturbed all at the same time. "You remember me? What are you, some sort of pathetic fan girl, Greengrass?"

"Obviously quite the opposite!" she shouted indignantly. "Damn you. Who are you to go sifting through my memories for shits and giggles?"

"Well, my name is Draco Malfoy—" he snidely began.

"Come off it!" she shouted. "Fuck this. I will figure it out on my own."

"Go ahead," Draco shrugged, "if you feel like failing."

"I do not trust you," she glared at him.

"Well, you are going to have to," he glared back at her. "And Merlin, did your mother ever teach you it was not polite for a lady to curse?"

"Evidently I missed that lesson," Little Greengrass churlishly retorted. They were silent for a moment.

"Ready?"

"No."

"Legilimens."

...

Daphne was dancing around the room with a letter in her hands.

"Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Mummy, Papa, I am going to Hogwarts!"

She glared at Daphne with envy, shoving her cake away after the sudden loss of her appetite. She wanted to go to Hogwarts too.

...

"You promise to write?" she asked.

"Of course," Daphne airily replied.

"Every week?" she squeaked.

"Oh Tori, I'm going to be so busy learning magic every day and meeting so many new people, I hardly know if I'll have time to write to you every single week!" Daphne chirped before looking at her younger sister. "Don't be sad, Tori! I may not get to write every week, but I'll be thinking of you every single day!"

"Do you have to go?"

"Yes!" Daphne laughed. "Don't worry, I'll be home for the Christmas holidays before you even know it. And soon enough, you'll be getting your letter too!"

...

It was quiet in the house without Daphne. Mummy was sad a lot of the time.

"Mummy, Daph is happy at Hogwarts. Why are you not happy?" Her beautiful mother, with curly blonde hair and bright blue eyes, glanced at her youngest daughter.

"Astoria, darling, do come here and sit with me. That would make Mummy very happy." She crept across the sitting room and curled up next to Mummy, not moving a muscle as Mummy held her and silently cried.

...

"Astoria, please come back and continue telling me about your book," Mummy begged.

"Why," she asked coolly, "when you think it is boring?"

"That is not true, darling," Mummy assured her. "Come and sit down."

"I do not like the same things that you and Daphne like," she announced.

"Please come back and sit down," her mother sighed. She obeyed and precariously perched herself on the edge of the couch. "I am listening very carefully now. Do continue."

...

"Sometimes, I wish she was just a silly, empty-headed darling, Thomas."

"Calliope, luv, Astoria is not made of the same material as Daphne."

"Daphne is neither silly nor empty-headed."

"I know that, luv. I am simply saying that our daughters could not be more opposite."

"I do try and appreciate her for what she is worth, but I cannot help but fear that by doing so, I am setting her up to be the black sheep of the family."

"She is a smart girl," said her father, his eyes flicking up to where she hid behind the banister. "I am sure Astoria will figure it out."

...

"It is the only thing I have ever really wanted! Please Papa, I am begging you!"

"It is quite silly to get you a horse, Tori," said her father. "You are going to go off to school soon and then what? Who will ride and take care of it?"

"We can hire someone to look after it during school, but I will ride it every single day and take care of it when I am home on holidays and all through summer."

"It is simply not practical."

"Daphne gets everything she wants and I have never asked for anything else besides books. It is not fair!" she clenched her hands in ire.

"A horse is a big responsibility, Astoria. I know it seems unfair, but I am doing this for a reason. This will be the one thing I will deny you because I know that you are not yet ready for a horse. You will get a horse one day, but I want you to earn it."

...

Daphne did not want her annoying her friends, who had come over for a few days in the summer. She escaped to the barn and rode all day, or took a book out to the grounds. It was quiet out there. Besides, she did not much like Daphne's friends. They walked around like there was something smelly in the room with their noses stuck up in the air.

...

"Dear Miss Astoria Greengrass: We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

It was the best day ever.

...

"Must you grow up?" her father asked.

"You said that everyone must grow up at some time or another, Papa." He laughed his deep, rich, wonderful laugh that made her giggle and smile broadly.

"What will I do without you around?" he tucked her hair behind her ear. She shrugged.

"I promise to write every week," she solemnly swore.

"No, you just promise me that you will make lots of friends and learn many new things—you have the potential to be the brightest witch in your year and I do not want you to hold back," her father tapped her forehead. She released another peal of giggles and flung her arms around her father.

"I will miss you so much, Papa."

...

"But why can I not sit with you on the Hogwarts Express?"

"Because it is time you made your own friends, Tori."

"But you are my friend, Daph."

"I am your sister," Daphne corrected her with a sweet smile. "You need friends your own age. Just be nice and charming and remember all of Mummy's etiquette lessons and you'll be just fine."

"But what if they do not like me?"

"What are you so worried about?" Daphne propped her hands on her hips. After all, she was a teenager now.

"What if I am not Sorted into Slytherin?"

"You will be a Slytherin," Daphne assured her. "The only other House you have a chance of getting Sorted into is Ravenclaw and you are too much like Father to be a Ravenclaw." Daphne saw she was unconvinced. "Look, Tori, everything is going to be just fine. Just don't be a know-it-all snob and go talk to people." And at that, Daphne flitted off.

When the cabin was filled with three other loud, pretty girls (whose names were Lindsay, Annie, and Mel), Astoria felt her mouth go dry and just tried to smile and nod. They were all Sorted into Slytherin and were best friends. Sort of.

...

She quickly discovered that if she sat really still in the corner of the common room, people forgot she was even there and had some very interesting things to say. She continued to sit there knowing that one day, something she would overhear would come quite handy.

...

Her mother laughed.

"I am so glad, darling, that you like school so much. But do tell me about your new friends." She paused for a moment.

"Well, my friends are Lindsay, Annie, and Mel. They are Slytherins in my year."

"Are they nice?" She nodded. "That is good, darling." She shoved a piece of lamb in her mouth to avoid any elaboration.

Neither she nor Daphne thought about mentioning the Dementors on the Hogwarts Express or the ones that guarded the school. Sirius Black was on the loose and she had checked and saw that Draco Malfoy's mother's father's sister's son (whatever that relation was… perhaps first cousins once removed?) was Sirius Black. But she did not care if Sirius Black got to Malfoy because he was such a great git to that wonderful hippogriff, Buckbeak. Everyone knows you cannot be full of yourself and expect to gain a hippogriff's respect.

...

Harry Potter got a Firebolt. Even Malfoy was jealous. She thought she would like to learn to fly, someday, if Mother continued to evade her requests to go to the barn for horseback riding.

...

"Did you hear? That stupid Mudblood Granger hit Draco Malfoy!" All the other girls seemed really worried, but she erupted in peals of laughter. Even hours later she was giggling to herself.

...

"Really, Greengrass? Really?" Draco dryly muttered.

"I would not be surprised at all if you deserved it," Little Greengrass crossed her arms. Draco ground his teeth. "Can you just wait—?"

"Legilimens."

...

Slytherin lost the Quidditch Cup. Everyone was in a terrible mood, especially Malfoy. She thought that he really needed to resign himself to the fact that Potter was a better Seeker than him. There would certainly be fewer first years in tears of terror.

...

Sirius Black disappeared and along with the wrongfully sentenced hippogriff, Buckbeak. Although she was not sure why, she had a feeling that everything had been set right.

...

"You may only go to the barn three days a week."

"Then it is only fair, Mother, if Daphne goes over to friend's houses at the most three days a week," she crossed her arms indignantly.

"Why do you not have any of your friends come over here?"

"I see them from September to June, Mother. May I not have July and August to myself?" she asked in exasperation before storming out of the house.

...

"Well, are you glad now that you did not take Astoria to the Quidditch World Cup?" her mother asked her father during the summer before her second year. He looked so tired from her hiding spot behind the banister.

"They are back, Calliope. They are back."

...

She did not think it was fair that Harry Potter cheated and had his name picked out of the Goblet of Fire. He was already famous; he should have let someone else have a turn. She even consigned to wear a "Potter Stinks!" badge.

...

Professor Mad-Eye Moody was bloody mad. He actually killed a spider in front of the class. She had a weird feeling about him. Despite this, she laughed hysterically when he turned that great git Malfoy into a ferret. She thought the resemblance was wildly accurate.

...

The dragons were almost as beautiful as winged-horses. She did not blink through the entire first match.

...

Her stomach felt weird whenever any of the Durmstrang or Beauxbaton boys talked to her. She could not understand half of what they were saying through their thick accents but that did not stop her from smiling for some reason.

...

Daphne looked stunning in her Yule Ball gown.

"It's a shame that no one asked you, Tori."

"I would not have had that much fun anyway," she lied.

...

Apparently Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures professor, was half-giant. She wondered how it was not so obvious to everyone else.

...

Cedric Diggory was dead. Professor Mad-Eye Moody was actually Barty Crouch, Jr., convicted Death Eater. Harry Potter said that the Dark Lord was back. Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, said He was not. She hardly knew what to think anymore.

Cedric Diggory was dead, dead at seventeen. How could that ever make sense? What was happening with the world? And what was death, anyway?

...

"What an adorable sight: thirteen-year-old Little Greengrass in the middle of an existential crisis," Draco drawled. "How endearing."

"You are not teaching me anything!"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself, Greengrass? Close your mind."

"And how many times must I repeat myself, Malfoy? What do you mean, 'close your mind'?"

"Like I said before," Draco released an aggravated sigh, "you must detach yourself from the world."

"And like I said before, what does that mean?"

"For someone who thinks so highly of their intelligence, you are fairly dim, Greengrass."

"Speaking of things being dim, is it hard to see with your head stuck so far up your arse, Malfoy?" she innocently inquired, her green eyes looking up at him.

"Legilimens."