Book 3: Astoria Greengrass and the Legilimens of Hogwarts
Song rec: "Name" by Goo Goo Dolls

Astoria did not have very much time before her parents would realise she was gone, and she did not trust Rhiannon to cover for her. As the pair had discussed the previous night, Hestia and Astoria were going to meet in the lavatory of the Burke Funeral Home in Diagon Alley, consume strands of hair and chew Polyjuice gum, and effectively switch places for the morning. Astoria was relieved that she had arrived in the correct fireplace at the funeral home, as it wouldn't have been the first time her Floo Network travel was imprecise, and the results of that journey would have been disastrous. Hestia was twiddling her thumbs in the empty parlour, but when she saw Astoria, she jumped up and gave Astoria a stick of gum and a piece of her hair immediately.

"Chew this now," Hestia said urgently, concerned as much as Astoria was about the ten-minute transformation lag which normal Polyjuice Potion did not have.

The girls stole away to the lavatory, where Hestia took the liberty to cut a piece of Astoria's hair. Astoria was outraged, but Hestia quieted her down with the assurance that she can have it charmed back. Hestia gave Astoria a small bag with a supply of her hair and gum and put Astoria's hair in a similar bag.

"The hard part is the flavour. And the texture. And the smell," Hestia said, and since they would smell incriminatingly like Polyjuice Potion, provided Astoria with some strong cinnamon mints.

"You're lucky I keep my mouth shut, because this isn't totally going to do the trick on your breath. Now give me your clothes."

The Polyjuice had yet to take effect, and the consequence was anything but comfortable. When Astoria finally felt her body morphing, the experience was such that she vowed to never take Polyjuice Potion again. On top of that, once she realised how much Hestia must have shrunk toward the ground, she became quite self-conscious. Even though Astoria knew exactly what had taken place, seeing Hestia's reflection in the mirror was still startling. Standing next to her own image evoked horrifying memories of seeing Barty Crouch Jr impersonate her body. She tried to push away the imagery by telling herself that Flora and Hestia see their own images next to them all the time, being identical twins.

"Say you went to the loo," Hestia told her, chewing her gum reluctantly.

"You as well," Astoria said.

"Wait — what if someone sees me come in through the fireplace?" Hestia required, the stench of her breath watering Astoria's eyes.

"It's nothing. We use Floo travel within our house from one wing to another," Astoria informed, becoming additionally offended by her own breath and cramming more cinnamon mints into her mouth. Not surprisingly, the taste of the Polyjuice was so bad that the taste of cinnamon was imperceptible.

"Right you do," Hestia grumbled. "I'll be off. Remember, if you run into a problem, Flora's really clever and you ought to be fine."

"Er, okay…" Astoria said, dreading the moment when Flora would discover it was not her twin sitting next to her at the funeral.

As nonchalantly as she could, Astoria walked to the funeral parlour set up for Abraxas Malfoy. She did not take the chance to look at the whole reason why she was doing this. Sitting next to Flora felt a bit more reassuring than standing, but she had a feeling that Flora thought something was amiss already. What had Astoria done wrong in less than a minute? Perhaps she looked like a squirrel with the gum and mints puffing out her cheeks.

There was no music during the service, hymnal or otherwise, and Astoria considered the lack of it more slighting to the mourners than it was to the dead man, who might have written his wish to omit it. What sort of person didn't like music? Then again, what sort of person had raised Lucius Malfoy, whose high-profile convictions were too terrible for Astoria to call to mind? She was glad that she was not attending this funeral under her own appearance after all. Everyone she saw there — and there were not many people — looked exactly how children were told Death Eaters looked: pompous, malicious, and edgy. The population of You-Know-Who's sympathisers seemed to have a hierarchy. Astoria could tell by the way they dressed and carried themselves. For once in her life, Astoria found herself mixed in the back of a room with people dressed in undecorated, two-piece robes. From her seat, she identified the backs of heads. Theodore Nott was stuck sitting by Crabbe, Goyle, and the latter's mother. Across from them were the few Lofthouses who weren't in prison. The next row held the sycophantic Strettons, the flashy Flints, the malicious Monkleighs, and a few individuals from the Ministry. Astoria had not spotted Parkinson in front of her and therefore did not bother looking behind her; the only people of any distinction in the room were Flora, Theodore, Draco, and herself. And if she had only kept the offended feeling off of her face, she might not have attracted more attention from the girl whose twin she was supposed to be.

"What's wrong?" Flora whispered.

Thinking fast, Astoria whispered, "The shops are opening now," opening her agonised mouth as little as possible.

"It isn't like we can stand in them and hand people the album anyway," Flora responded.

A horrible hiss came from the woman Astoria had definitively identified as Alecto Carrow. And if Astoria looked like herself, she would have given that woman a look that would make her wish she had never shown up to the funeral.

"What'd I tell you?" Flora said softly.

She already knew it was Astoria! Still, at least Flora could be trusted to keep the situation quiet, unlike Rhiannon, who was probably in the middle of telling the Greengrasses to come to the funeral and pick up their wayward daughter.

Not long after, it was time to pay respects before greeting the family, which pitifully consisted of only the deceased's daughter-in-law and the grandson. Astoria approached the coffin, which had remained closed due to the awful skin condition. When Astoria saw that the mourners were all drawing their wands to conjure small flowers onto the wreath atop the casket, she panicked. Why hadn't she and Hestia thought to exchange wands? As risky as it was to use another's wand, it was not nearly as bad as the dilemma in which Astoria presently found herself. Perhaps she could hide her wand in her sleeve… Perhaps she could ask if Flora knew any way to change the appearance of Astoria's wand… Perhaps she could ignore the protocol; Hestia had never been the most alert of young ladies…

Flora saved the day. She conjured two identical flowers when the two stopped by the casket. There was no way Astoria could thank her aloud; there was no way Astoria could thank her enough.

"Mr Carrow, Ms Carrow, thank you," Draco delivered emotionlessly to the twins' regrettable relatives. "Mr Carrow, thank you for coming…" he said to their father.

Draco looked utterly miserable — the kind of miserable that was not simply part of being in a funeral parlour. He was not used to being the only Mr Malfoy at a ceremony and clearly detested greeting all of these people who had avoided prison at some point in their lives.

"Thanks, Hestia, Flora…" Draco said out of the girls' processional order.

Astoria wondered how many more times she was to be called Flora when she was trying so hard to be a decent Hestia. Draco was closer in height to Hestia, like he had been in relation to Astoria when she had first met him. There was something weird about perceiving this smaller height difference again; it brought Astoria back to a time she couldn't connect with anymore.

"Thank you, girls," said Mrs Malfoy no more sincerely than her son had.

The next stop was the sitting room in which Astoria had arrived. Since the Carrow clan was not very high in You-Know-Who's ranking, Mrs Malfoy and Draco were finished formally receiving the mourners in no time. They meandered about, exchanging words with the fake mourners over the next visitation hour. The three adult Carrows were busy gathering refreshments, and Astoria realised she needed her next piece of gum. Spitting the old ones out would have been too repulsive to view and could potentially implicate her, so she had only kept adding more. This plan was not as fail-safe as it had seemed the previous night, and she could barely talk. Sooner or later, someone was going to ask what she was eating throughout the funeral. She did not have much time. She strolled to the lavatory, pondering the fact that Parkinson had been nowhere in sight. Stepping into a stall, she spit the huge wad of gum into toilet tissue and threw the evidence away. She had not anticipated how revolting this morning would be and desired to go home. However, having disposed of the old gum and having considered that Parkinson and Draco might have already split up, she set out to finish what she started.

Draco was sitting next to Theodore. Theodore noticed Astoria's presence before Draco did and elbowed him.

"Hm? Flora?" Draco said, clearly wondering what on earth Flora would have to say to him.

"That's not Flora. It's Hestia," Theodore said, paradoxically still incorrect.

Astoria carefully took the empty seat on Draco's other side. Theodore looked past him confusedly, bringing more visual interest to the area than anyone undercover would have preferred.

"You're both wrong," Astoria murmured to Draco.

Draco turned, shocked. Theodore, who was too far from her to have heard, looked on concernedly whilst Draco was still at a loss for words. Hestia's father, a squat man with her same grey-green eyes, arrived, patted Draco's shoulder, and then offered Astoria a small bowl of fruit which Astoria mutely declined. He then shuffled over to Flora, out of earshot.

"…You came," Draco said. "You're mad."

"What?" asked Theodore. "What?"

Draco shook his head at him, saying, "If you would shut it for one moment…" under his breath.

"Your parents are going to kill you, I assume?" he said to her.

"If my good friend is a poor actress," Astoria said.

"I can't believe you did this…" he said, a hint of amusement surfacing.

"You mean—?" Theodore cut in, having gleaned enough.

"Shut it," Draco said again.

Astoria took another cinnamon mint.

"I'm sorry about your grandfather. I know he's been ill for a while," she said sympathetically.

"Yeah… thanks," Draco said.

He more or less was not one to talk about those things.

"…So you really did this for me," he changed the subject.

Astoria raised Hestia's eyebrows. Obviously this was all for him, but did he really need to keep milking it? It wasn't like this Polyjuice gum allowed for much chit-chat.

"No, I came here for the buffet, Draco."

She caught sight of the flash of a smile. It was what she came for: to bring any small smile to Draco during such a terrible, difficult time in his life. It was a skill which she had only recently discovered she possessed. She would not have gone through this much trouble if she did not believe it would make this much of a difference. But Draco had colour in his face and something positive to think. Those were things that everybody should have, and by acting as the provider of them, Astoria felt needed.

To feel needed by somebody who really did not need much in the world was quite special. Unfortunately, this was not the sort of environment that allowed her extra time to revel in the feeling. She and Hestia had to make the switch back before the Carrows went home, and there was no way Astoria could know when that would be. Additionally, Parkinson had just come in from the street with Millicent Bulstrode. Parkinson was clearly not supposed to be there; she had shopping bags on her arms that meant that Mr and Mrs Parkinson were less than supportive of their daughter's relationship with Draco and did not know she had sneaked here for visitation. Millicent looked at Astoria in a way that nearly made her think her hair was darkening — it was time to leave.

"Where are you going?" Draco asked when she said goodbye.

"I didn't realise you wanted me to stay so badly," Astoria said. She couldn't help herself. It was exactly the sort of thing he would have said to her.

A few people looked; Draco never spoke to Hestia the way he had been speaking to the girl who looked like her. Astoria wanted more time to think about that matter, but Amycus had noticed that his supposed niece had been sitting next to a boy to whom she never spoke. He whispered something to his heavily-veiled sister that sounded an awful lot like, "Thought Hestia didn't fancy blokes."

Astoria instantly pretended to snub Draco in a way he would know it was part of the disguise. She carefully retrieved Flora and made it look like they were off to the lavatory. They turned into another sitting room, a fortunately empty one, and Astoria took some Floo powder out of Hestia's robe.

"Pretty clever," said Flora. "Pretty chancy."

"Thank you for helping," Astoria whispered.

"Sure, anytime you want to flirt with someone at a funeral, I'm the wing-witch for the job."

"Really, Flora," said Astoria as she threw the powder into the hearth.

"And next time, make sure you walk like Hestia instead of like a little princess."

"Good day, Flora," Astoria said, leaping into the portal home.

She stepped out of the fireplace in Rhiannon's boudoir and hurried to the bedchamber, searching for her reflection. As far as Astoria could tell, there was "Astoria" sitting on Rhiannon's bed. Rhiannon was sprawled horizontally along the bottom of the bed, carefully reading a newspaper.

"Any problems?" Astoria asked.

"Not yet," said Hestia, spitting her gum into the dust bin and starting to remove her clothes.

Astoria, who became uncomfortable without delay, was not sure of how to get somebody who was wearing her body to stop stripping. She always felt small-chested compared to other girls in her year, although Hestia and Flora were smaller than her.

"Change in there," pressed Astoria, pointing to the boudoir.

"We don't have time—"

"Change in there!"

"Believe it or not, I do have it in me to not stare at people undressing!" Rhiannon hollered from her room.

Finally, everybody had the right clothes once more, and there were only a few minutes left until the Polyjuice would wear off.

"So, what did you think? Should I try patenting this?" Hestia joked.

"Absolutely not," Astoria said, thinking of all the hair she had felt travel down her throat.

"The real potion's not as bad," Hestia chatted. "It's more like taking medication — it all goes down at once. I could have kept this in liquid form, but that's too obvious ever since—"

Astoria was shaking her head and shifting her eyes toward Rhiannon, trying to let Hestia know not to talk about Barty Crouch Jr near her, but Hestia ruined the entire subtlety by saying, "What?"

"It's fine, Astoria," Rhiannon uttered.

Astoria knew better. It was never going to be fine.

"What's—? Oh, oh — Oh, no… I…" Hestia faltered.

"We're changing," Astoria diverted once she felt Hestia's silky, straight hair being replaced by frizz she would have to tame soon. "I came from the Nightingale Room. Flora should still be in there."

Hestia vanished in the green flame along with Astoria's wish that everything would go smoothly back at the funeral home for her.

"Was she a very convincing Astoria?" she asked Rhiannon.

"Never knew Astoria to have rank breath, no," Rhiannon said. "Go clean your teeth."

For having spent the morning with a girl who was mad about her, Rhiannon was pretty grouchy. Rhiannon did not know the precise amount of trouble through which Astoria had to go in order to greet Draco at the funeral, but Rhiannon considered any trouble inappropriate.

"I wanted to go to Diagon Alley today to see how the album was selling," Rhiannon said resentfully as she walked with Astoria to the latter's room. "Maybe sign a few."

Thinking of how anyone who would ever want their autographs likely had them already, Astoria said, "But the problem is…?"

"Your mum said no."

"Oh. Why would she?"

"She said 'we afakest for zew-eekend,'" Rhiannon imitated cryptically.

"My mother does not sound like that," Astoria sniffed. "What did you even say?"

"I's asking the same question for a minute there this morning," Rhiannon commented. "She said we're having someone round for the weekend."

Ugh. Maybe it was Mrs Tonks again. Mrs Tonks was a good friend of Astoria's mother, but the two women were at odds when it came to fleeing the country from the rising threat of You-Know-Who. Mrs Malfoy had warned Astoria's mother that things really were getting worse, and no one was going to argue with the frightened informant whose husband usually set out You-Know-Who's slippers in the morning. That is, no one would argue with her except her estranged sister, Mrs Tonks, whose small family intended to follow the rallying cry of those fighting the Dark forces.

Rhiannon was asking Astoria questions whilst Astoria was brushing her teeth, a fact that nearly caused Astoria to shut her bathroom door. Rhiannon wanted to know if it was family who was visiting, but Astoria said that her mother would have said "family" and not "a guest" if that was the case. Rhiannon then asked if the guest might be "Tonks," as in Nymphadora Tonks, to whom Rhiannon wished to give an apology for the mess with Hestia. Astoria spit out her toothpaste prematurely and told Rhiannon that it was more likely going to be Nymphadora's mother.

"You can send an owl to Nymphadora, you know," Astoria said.

"You're not supposed to write to Aurors about their operations. Letters can get stolen… read by the wrong eyes… Too many people know I'm here as it is."

"Perhaps Mrs Tonks could relay the message. Otherwise, write her a vague letter of apology. Send it from Diagon Alley. It's better than nothing."

"Ah, it'll do. Can I write it in there?" Rhiannon asked, referring to Astoria's writing desk in her sitting room.

"You may, so long as the flannel from Philippe in there does not bother you," Astoria replied. "Hestia told me I ought not to burn those letters so that I might have evidence of his unfaithfulness. I need a better place to store them."

"A box in the attic sounds something proper," said Rhiannon insightfully.

Astoria was in the middle of fixing her hair when Rhiannon came in and read the letter she planned to send to Nymphadora Tonks.

"'Dear Tonks,

I wanted to say I'm sorry about causing you so much trouble. I definitely learnt my lesson. I hope you are well and can excuse my slip-up.

Sincerely, Rhiannon'"

Astoria was glad that Rhiannon had resisted the urge to write something about Fylth. Rhiannon said that Nymphadora had expressed her interest in the album, but thankfully, Rhiannon had recognised what was appropriate and what was not.

"It's perfect," said Astoria.

"Yeah? Y'know, I thought… maybe I should add something about the album…"

So she just forgot to mention it.

"No, not in this letter," Astoria advised.

The girls were in the game room as dinnertime drew nearer, and Rhiannon was complaining as she threw darts into a board that she and Astoria could have been to Diagon Alley and back already. Astoria reasoned that if there was a crowd of fans seeking the album, the time that they would have arrived was long past in any case. It was a mistake to use that as an attempted placation, since Rhiannon soon after brought up the matter of the funeral again. If only Astoria had missed the funeral like Rhiannon wanted all along, they could have met their fans that morning.

"And what did you get outta going to that funeral? You saw Malfoy?"

The only way Rhiannon would have approved of it would have been if Astoria had gone to witness Draco crying.

"Of course I saw him," said Astoria as Rhiannon made a bull's-eye with her dart.

"What'd he say to you? You told him it was you, right? That was the whole point."

"He told me I was mad."

"That's one of the few things he's ever said that's right," Rhiannon said with a sigh, holding out the darts for Astoria to take. Astoria motioned for Rhiannon to continue, hoping that the activity would help Rhiannon release some of her anger.

"What? Forfeit, do ya?"

"I'm behind you by over fifteen points," Astoria reasoned.

"It's good practice for aiming spells, though," Rhiannon said pointedly. "We should do this more often. I'm never gonna beat you in Wizard chess."

"We shall, but not now. We should get ready for dinner."

"I am ready."

Rhiannon was absolutely not ready; she was in a T-shirt that had a hole in the back of the collar. Astoria understood that Rhiannon only had so many clothes, and she had been wearing them since she had moved to the estate, but there were plenty of other clothes they had given her. The issue was a highly sensitive one, and with Rhiannon's mood the way it was, Astoria was afraid to bring it up. As Astoria was pondering different ways to avoid an argument, one between Astoria's sister and father was emerging by the staircase and echoing throughout the event rooms.

"Well, Daddy, I didn't get all dressed up for nothing! Don't give me this rubbish about 'poor taste!' Look at you — going to the table without your tie on! What has this place come to‽ All I hear lately is 'tone it down;' 'lose the rubies;' 'that's not necessary for sitting round the house!'"

"If you don't lower your voice, young lady, you can sit in your room for dinner!"

"AT LEAST THAT WAY I'M ASSURED I WON'T BE THE DINNER!"

"Do you want to stay there all weekend, Daphne‽ By all means, keep talking."

"UGH!"

With all the noise, someone might have thought one of the horses had galloped up the steps. Astoria shrunk back into the game room, scanning her outfit to see if there was anything she could make less impressive about it. There wasn't; she had been wearing the same thing into which Hestia had put many wrinkles, and because that morning involved a mission with Polyjuice gum, Astoria had not put on any accessories or jewellery. She had formed a pretty good guess about the identity of the visitor and gave the frowning Rhiannon her best grin.