Book 1: Astoria Greengrass and the Muggle-Born Slytherin

Song rec: "Cherub Rock" by The Smashing Pumpkins

Notes: Astoria and Philippe are just for plot purposes lol. When I said slow-burn Drastoria, I meant it. Also, sorry if this is where it becomes apparent I started writing this as a teen. I wanted to focus on Astoria's public image not only as a Greengrass, but also as being part of that small group of Slytherins that believe in equality. Because I had always designed Rhiannon's character as using music as an outlet, teenaged me obviously went with the "let's start a band" plot. But I like to investigate the difficulties they have with it, the pressure placed on them because of their age, etc. Hopefully it doesn't leave a bad taste because they goof around with instruments.

"Finally!" shouted Rhiannon. She was holding a flyer in her hand as she rushed into the dormitory. "Guess where we're going this afternoon!"

"Hogs—?" mumbled Flora.

"Hogsmeade!" Rhiannon cheered.

"Who says?"

"This says! You really need to start gettin' out of the dorm on the weekends," said Rhiannon, handing the flyer to Flora.

"Where did you get this?" Astoria asked after being handed the flyer with the Hogsmeade trip announcement.

"It was hanging in the common room," said Rhiannon.

"Don't you think you should... put it back?"

"Oh, yeah—" said Rhiannon, and she bounded back out of the dorm.

Going to Hogsmeade had always been enjoyable for Astoria. The dozens of shops and quaint cottages all had lit candles in their windows and fluffy white smoke coming from their chimneys. Despite the large amount of students there, the village retained its peaceful quality, and the cold temperature made the hush more charming. The cold temperature was also telling Astoria to stop marvelling at the village and to go into a shop before the tips of her ears froze, and the hush was probably because no one in their right mind was standing outside. Astoria tucked her face into her scarf and went to look for Rhiannon, who had been running all over the village since they arrived, carrying hardly any money with her. Astoria suspected that Rhiannon would end up in the sweet shop eventually and headed there. Above the bay window that displayed the sugary treats inside, it read Honeydukes in golden letters; Rhiannon had spoken of it as though it were a legend.

A little bell chimed when Astoria entered the shop. There wasn't a spot in there left untouched by sugar. It was not the largest place, and it only took a minute for Astoria to determine that Rhiannon wasn't there. She did see a familiar face, however. Montel Davis was trying to carry as many Sugar Quills as he could to the till. As soon as Astoria walked up to him, he handed a bushel of Sugar Quills to her.

"Sorry. Can you hold these for a minute?" he said, trying to place them all on the counter.

"Sure. Have you seen Rhiannon anywhere?" Astoria asked. "We split up. I thought she would be here."

"She was here a bit ago. She was saying something about heading over to Dominic Maestro's with the twins and Tracey. I was heading there anyway, so you can follow me."

Montel took the Sugar Quills back once his arms weren't full, spending at least half of his allowance on them in one sitting.

"Don't you want anything here?" he asked Astoria, who was eyeing the trays of crystallised pineapple. She picked up a tin and fought to keep herself from buying the whole stock.

Montel and Astoria made their way through the cold on the cobblestone street. She didn't think it was right for it to be so chilly without a single snowflake in sight, feeling that at least something pretty should come along with not being able to feel her toes. Dominic Maestro's was located next to the shop that sold regular quills, to which Montel would certainly give no business. Astoria saw a variety of instruments displayed in the music shop's windows; most of them were charmed to be played with no musician present. Inside, the whole place was noisy from the instruments, but they all seemed to coordinate with one another to play the same orchestration. Montel and Astoria walked up a spiral staircase to the second floor, where they found Rhiannon, Tracey, and Hestia speaking ardently to Flora in front of a drum kit.

"I can't!" argued Flora.

"Of course you can — you just won't try!" said her sister.

"I've better things to do than play with drums all day," Flora scoffed.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Montel broke in.

"They want me to learn how to play the drums," said Flora, "as if I don't have enough to worry about already."

"Play the drums?" he asked. "What for?"

"They're trying to start a band. A band of all things! It's absurd," said Flora.

Astoria saw Rhiannon clench her fists, and her anger was almost contagious.

"Not everything's absurd, Flora," Rhiannon grumbled.

The wood floor creaked beneath Flora's feet as she shifted her weight nervously. She looked at the price on the drum kit.

"Two-hundred and sixty Galleons," she announced, "for the whole kit and equipment. Rhiannon, if you come up with two-hundred sixty Galleons, I will learn to play the drums."

Rhiannon looked completely crushed by the weight of reality. She could not come up with one Galleon, much less two-hundred sixty. But Flora should have just left it at "no." She had no right to insult Rhiannon like that.

"I'll buy the drum kit," said Astoria quickly, walking right up to Flora so that their shoes almost touched. "I'll buy whatever she might need."

The idea of Rhiannon starting a band did sound unrealistic, but it would be a great experience for her if it worked. This might be something fun to do at weekends. Astoria would help Rhiannon follow her dream in any way she could. Money was definitely one way she could.

"I forgot, we have a toff in the dorm," mumbled Flora cruelly.

Rhiannon, on the other hand, looked at Astoria like she was an angel and mouthed "Thank you."

Astoria did feel slightly empty inside, though. Why hadn't she been told about the plan? Hestia knew about it. Maybe it was because Hestia could play the guitar already… or maybe Rhiannon didn't want Astoria involved her band.

"You said you'd learn. Are you just going to go back on your word now that we actually can get this?" Hestia asked.

"Fine, I'll learn. But if I learn, I don't want people making fun of me. I'll quit straight away." Flora said stiffly.

"Way to go, Flora," said Montel, patting her on the shoulder. She shrugged him off.

"You know what I'm thinking, Tracey? They are starting a band…" he said.

"I already told them," said Tracey, smiling.

"What?" asked Astoria.

"You know who our dad is?" Tracey asked.

"Mr Davis, I'm assuming," said Astoria.

"Ha-ha, very funny. Our dad is the producer for the Weird Sisters."

"We're third-years, not third-time platinum-certified artists," said Astoria.

"Let the woman speak, Astoria!" Rhiannon exclaimed.

"Dad's worked at the Wizarding Wireless Network for ages," said Tracey. "Myron Wagtail met my dad before starting the Weird Sisters. I'm going to talk to Dad about Rhiannon's band since she said she needed some advice. I think it's a great idea."

Astoria had never seen Rhiannon smiling so brightly.

"You two are getting in Music class when we get back," she instructed the twins.

Hestia smiled and nodded. Flora mumbled another one of her comments.

The cold air outside fed the excitement, and the large group bustled from building to building. There was no way to get everyone to agree on where to go, so they simply went everywhere. Astoria saw Draco making a show of buying people butterbeers when they were at the Three Broomsticks. He made eye contact with Astoria, who knew she may have been stupid enough to make a deposit on a drum kit but not stupid enough to buy overpriced butterbeers.

Astoria was absentmindedly twisting her hair round her finger, sitting on her bed in the dormitory. Flora had gone to the common room, and Rhiannon and Hestia were at the desk in the centre of the dorm, writing lyrics and music. Rhiannon noticed Astoria's gaze and lifted her head.

"Yeah?"

"Well, I was wondering if you would teach me how to play the guitar," Astoria said weakly.

"Guitar? Er, it takes awhile."

"Oh," said Astoria.

She knew that that meant Rhiannon didn't want to teach her. The other girls didn't need her in the so-called band. They just needed her money.

"What's your band going to be called?" Astoria asked.

"Pariah," said Hestia.

"Par–what?"

"A pariah is like a reject, like a person no one likes," said Rhiannon. "Hestia came up with the name. It's also the name of this song we just finished. I think I want it to be our first official song."

A first song, how nice. It would be played on the instruments Astoria was supposed to buy them. Speaking of rejects, Astoria felt very unwanted at the moment. Why would her friends leave her out of something like this? What were the real chances that they could start a band, anyway?

"When are you going to write a song?" Rhiannon asked.

"What?" Astoria asked.

"You know how to write music, don't you? You're not just gonna sit there and do nothing the whole time, are you?"

"I, er… I thought you didn't want me in the band…?" Astoria said.

"Why'd you think that? We'll need a vocalist. My voice ain't for singing," Rhiannon explained. "I thought you took vocals or something. You sure sing in the shower enough."

"And I'm not too comfortable with being the lead vocalist," added Hestia.

"So can you sing? If you don't wanna, that's okay, but your voice is pretty, y'know. Speaking and singing."

"I can try," said Astoria. A great excitement was welling up inside her. They did need her after all, and not just for the money. Rhiannon probably assumed that Astoria had figured out that she was automatically in the band. Astoria, however, was a person who needed things to be said clearly.

"Let's hear it, then. You don't have to be amazing," said Hestia.

"Well, you do have to sound better than me," Rhiannon said with a laugh.

Astoria admitted, "I missed several vocal lessons so I could do more schoolwork."

"Yeah? Let's try something here…" Rhiannon said, going through her bag of cassette tapes. "I don't know what your vocal range is, but we can try this one," she said.

The cassette had small speakers in the spot where Muggle cassettes had holes. Rhiannon tapped her wand to the cassette, and it played the songs recorded on it. A pinch of magic was used to turn the volume up and down. Astoria knew that Rhiannon greatly loved the wizard cassette tapes — they played themselves.

"The one I want you to sing is track four," said Rhiannon. "You'll have to listen to it first." She tapped her wand against it three more times, and the correct song began playing.

The guitar in the song had a warm quality to it; it made Astoria love the sound of the intro. The vocals in the song were beautiful — she knew she wouldn't be able to pull off the peaceful sound this singer's voice had.

"What is this called?" Astoria asked.

"'Anyone' by Spellbound," said Rhiannon. "You like it?"

"It's a gorgeous song," said Astoria, nodding.

"Yeah," said Rhiannon. "When you sing it, you can skip the swearing if it's too much for you."

She was wearing an impish grin, and she swirled her wand at the tape to make the song play two more times. Astoria then stood up and started to sing the song, indeed excluding the swear words. She knew she would never sound like this singer, but she had to focus on being comfortable. She sang the verses at a slightly higher pitch, for if she sang at the original one, it would sound like she was just talking at points. She faltered on the lyrics from time to time, but the other two girls had huge smiles on their faces. The good kind of smiles. Then there was a thirty second instrumental break in the song.

"It's rather awkward just standing here when I'm not singing," said Astoria.

"I agree. You look awkward," laughed Rhiannon.

"I'll be singing backing vocals, if that helps any," said Hestia. "You can dance while we wait!"

"Oh dear, not now."

Astoria waited out the instrumental without dancing and began to sing again. She found that it was easier to sing louder than Spellbound's vocalist had. After the song ended, Astoria felt accomplished. She had sung in front of her friends without causing them to laugh their heads off. Hestia and Rhiannon gave her a small applause.

"That was lovely. So I'll do the screaming," Rhiannon said.

"Isn't that unhealthy to scream so much? It isn't really singing," Astoria asked.

"Yeah, if you do it wrong. But maybe one day I'll get that Bonnie Tyler voice I've always wanted," Rhiannon said cheerily. "Besides, it'll only be on the angry songs."

Astoria thought back to the content of the notebook. All of the music was driven with anger.

"What kinds of music will we write exactly?" Astoria asked.

"Whatever we feel like," Rhiannon said. "You name it, providing that we have the talent."

They did have talent, but Astoria differentiated between talent and skill. Skill took practice, practice took time, and time took age. Everyone in the dorm was thirteen or younger, and Astoria never pictured a band as having people her age. Still, Rhiannon was visibly excited. She was pulling on the bottom of her shirt and fidgeting a bit. "D'you wanna see what we have for our first?" she asked Astoria.

"Yes!"

Hestia picked up Rhiannon's notebook and gave it to Astoria. It was opened to a page titled "The Pariah."

"It's like a protest song in a way," Rhiannon said.

When Astoria took the notebook and began reading it, she recognised that it was thematically similar to the four-line verse she had seen before. The lyrics were complete, albeit altered. Astoria thought it was a little intimidating.

You're a creature in a zoo

With a silken coat, a pedigree too

But confinement's made you restless

You bite our fingers when we don't expect it

You found ways to hate me

I found you aren't worth my time

Scratch my skin and berate me

It's your conscience there, not mine

You created your own monster

Coloured way outside the lines

Burn my body and wonder

Why the flames make me shine

You're a leech that's hard to please

With no backbone, no eyes to see

Hunger striker, way too thin

You throw your life away again

They found ways to hate me

I found they aren't worth my time

If they scar my skin and berate me

It's their conscience there, not mine

They've created their own monsters

Coloured way outside the lines

Burn my blood and wonder

Why the flames make me shine

Crown your pariah

With jewels from the heavens

Drown your pariah

The witch sent from hell

Into the flood, the hanging, the fire

You don't say my name

Because it rings a bell

"What do you think?" Rhiannon asked when Astoria gave her back the notebook.

"I like it," said Astoria, though she could not picture herself with the power to sing it.

Rhiannon and Hestia were capable songwriters. Astoria felt that if she wrote a song, it wouldn't be anything like theirs. She was afraid she could not do the song's meaning justice with her wimpy voice.

"You don't know how much better I feel after getting that on paper," Rhiannon chuckled.

"I can imagine," said Astoria.

"Of course, if we ever record and release this, everyone in our House very well might hate us," Rhiannon said, "unless they're too thick to understand the lyrics."

"Oh well," said Hestia.

"That's our band's namesake anyway: outcast," said Astoria.

"Damn right!" Rhiannon shouted.

Astoria wondered if her parents had got her letter about the drum kit yet.

The first day of the Triwizard Tournament had finally arrived. After lunch, the students met in the Great Hall before going outside to watch the First Task. There were tall wooden stands round an enclosed area on the grounds that the students filed in to. It was far too cold for Astoria, who refused to get hat-hair, so she was shivering terribly. There were plenty of places to sit, although apart from the very fractious-looking duo of Professors Snape and Sinistra, no one was doing much sitting. Rhiannon tagged along with Astoria to stand with the Beauxbatons students. The Beauxbatons had learnt their lesson in October and wore much warmer clothing. Astoria found Philippe with his scarf wrapped around his nose and his hands in his pockets.

"Hi, Astoria. Rhiannon." His voice was muffled by the scarf. "I can't wait to see what Fleur has in mind for this one."

"How do you mean?" Astoria asked.

But her question was interrupted. A whistle sounded, and Cedric Diggory, the Hufflepuff Champion, stepped out of the tent on the far side of the arena, only to come opposite to the horror that was being brought into the grounds by several burly-looking wizards. A greyish-blue dragon stalked forward. As the dragon keepers led it towards its nest, it gave an ear-splitting cry, accompanied with smoke from its mouth — a warning. It was not the most graceful breed, since it only had hind legs and wings; as it walked toward Cedric, who was not looking so good at the moment, it was tipped forward, as if trying to smell him.

Cedric ran sideways, then forward toward the dragon's nest. The creature immediately spewed fire at him, which Cedric barely missed. Astoria began to feel ill as she watched him practically fight for his life; she nearly froze, never cheering, never gasping. It felt wrong to stand here for amusement, like it was some milder version of a public execution. She merely watched in a dazed terror as Cedric used a spell to Transfigure a stone into a dog to distract the dragon. The monster went after the fake dog as Cedric made a dash for the nest and picked up a golden egg. But the dragon flicked its head around and spat flames at him before its tamers came, and Cedric was judged on performance mid-cook. Astoria saw him slowly walk toward a first-aid tent, holding the side of his face, head tipped down.

My God, he's been burnt in the face! Astoria thought.

"Didja see that? Didja see that! Amazing!" Rhiannon shouted. Her eyes were ablaze with enthusiasm, but the only enthusiasm Astoria could muster was enough to nod her head.

"Here comes Fleur," said Philippe as the whistle blew once more.

The pretty blonde girl emerged from the tent, already aiming her wand at another dragon, though she seemed to be shaking slightly. This dragon had four full legs so it could crawl normally and had the scales of a sickly green colour. Its teeth looked horrible; they were prominent even with the creature's mouth closed. Fleur cast a spell promptly, causing the dragon to drift off to sleep. It sort of slumped to the ground as Fleur hurried over to pick up the second golden egg. Just as she picked it up, the dragon let out a grunt, which was accompanied by a thin stream of flame from its mouth. It caught Fleur's skirt, and she jumped, frightened, before she put out the fire with water from her wand.

"Well, that was simple enough," said Rhiannon.

"Yes," Astoria agreed. She certainly knew what she would do if she ever encountered a dragon: put it to sleep!

The crowd cheered upon the entry of Viktor Krum, who was to face a large maroon dragon. He cast a curse on the dragon, and it immediately shut its eyes and stumbled about. The dragon tripped and crushed some of the eggs in the nest, however, which caused points to be taken away from Viktor's performance. Rhiannon wasn't very thrilled about the judges' decision and said some nasty words.

Then Harry Potter stepped out from the tent. He was the last one to perform, and the dragon he had looked to be the most dreadful of the four. It was a black dragon with a barbed tail and wings that bent down bizarrely at its elbows. The dragon's entire head was covered with spikes of ivory. Harry wasted no time and used a Summoning Charm to retrieve his broom, but he just barely dodged the monster's flames several times. Astoria's stomach was in a knot. However thankful she was that she didn't have to hear her fellow Slytherins' input from her current seat, she was not thankful at all that she still had to be in the stands watching as Harry Potter and the other Champions tried to not get incinerated. Harry Potter performed the Task in the worst way he could. He was on his broom, flying left and right, up and down, and in circles round the dragon. He seemed to be tricking it into following him to get it away from its eggs, but Astoria was uneasy already and had to watch the spectacle through squinting eyes so as not to get dizzy. As the dragon let out its rage in flames, Harry missed another burn but was hit by one of the dragon's spikes. Its tail had flung right into his side, wounding his arm. He didn't give too much attention to it, and almost right after that, the dragon could no longer take his mockery and flew into the air after him. Harry flew down to the nest and scooped up the golden egg. The dragon keepers came to take back the beast, and the First Task was over at last. Cheers and applause erupted in the stands, and Astoria found herself shouting even louder than Rhiannon, albeit it was out of relief.

"That was worth standing in the cold," said Philippe as the students walked back up the hill.

"It was incredible, but extremely scary," said Astoria.

"They had wizards ready if there was an emergency," Rhiannon reminded.

"Still…"

They reached the school and the Beauxbatons started filing into the giant carriage in which they arrived. Astoria waited to say goodbye to Philippe as Rhiannon strolled off with Tracey Davis.

"What is it like in the carriage?" she asked.

"Hm, well, there is enough space. It's much bigger on the inside than it looks it would be," he said. "I think it would be better in the castle. And of course, Fleur never stops talking about the Tournament. She's in the girls' section, but when we hear them all gossiping, it is because of her."

"I see. Erm, how are you taking classes?"

"Madame Maxime teaches us now because we have to keep up with the rest of the school who did not come. There are only ten of us, so that is not so bad, but we are not all in the same year, so it can be weird when lessons are only Zéphir, Madame, and me."

"That does sound like it would be awkward," Astoria chuckled. "I presume the Durmstrang students are doing the same."

"Yes, probably. It would be much easier to take classes with your school, but our schedules are so different, so we cannot do that," he said.

Astoria imagined how great it would be if they actually could. Philippe would be in her Astronomy class, and Draco wouldn't bother Astoria nearly as much if she had Philippe's company to look forward to three days a week. On the other hand, with Professor Sinistra acting so irritable lately, Astoria could not afford to have her performance in the class marred due to a distraction as relentless as Philippe. Writing cheesy lyrics about him became very easy for Astoria, but she could never bring herself to put them into the band's notebook.