Book 3: Astoria Greengrass and the Legilimens of Hogwarts
Song rec: "Anna Freud" by The National

UK TOP WIZARDING ALBUMS: 27/07/96

1. Burnt Orange – The Weird Sisters

2. The Pretty Kids – Maia Lacey

3. This is the Night – The Weird Sisters

4. Whiplash – Spellbound

5. To the Top – Q. Murray

6. By Moonlight: The Best of Celestina Warbeck Volume II – Celestina Warbeck and the Banshees

7. Takeoff – The Weird Sisters

8. Songs about Elisa – The Wiggenwelds

9. Retribution – Cannibal Coven

10. By Daybreak: The Best of Celestina Warbeck Volume I – Celestina Warbeck and the Banshees

OPINION:

PARIAH'S SINGLES ARE NOT LIKE OTHER "FYLTH"

By Keaven Ruppert

Fylth does not know what it is. It is certainly not metal, it is not grunge, and it is not punk. It might have been trying to be all of those things at once, but the result was no more impressive than the archival demos that Creep Agency released last month in an overpriced set (you know, the ones no one asked for).

Pariah, however, is as confused as the listener is at the end of the album. With the ear-splitting guitar, two distinct and disharmonious frontwitches, and the ever-mutinous piano, imagining anything other than four teenage girls arguing about the music they are trying to mash together is difficult.

My message to buyers is simple: Do not let the unsettling (and highly controversial) artwork on the album guilt you into giving your gold. The three singles, which, I must say, were brilliantly executed, are all you need to take away from Pariah's latest project. "Mire" is one of those rare events where the two competing names in Pariah, vocalist Astoria Greengrass and guitarist Rhiannon Clarke, come together to make a decent piece of symphonic rock. The other two singles show them largely independent of each other, so pick your team. Both Greengrass's "Saccharine" and Clarke's "Demerits" have reached domestic silver and are likely the only money-makers slithering through Fylth's greasy wake. ▪

"FYLTH": THE MOST APPROPRIATELY TITLED ALBUM OF THE DECADE

G. Shardlow

Parents beware: Rock album Fylth was made by teenagers but is not for teenagers. If you have any say in what your teen listens to, which you should, say no to this album. Its content warning label was not lying, but your teen might be if he or she tore it off. Fylth is full of inappropriate content. The very cover depicts sweet little hands planting seeds in waste and being rewarded with beautiful flowers. The track "Peepers" is written from the point of view of a malicious voyeur. Drug references, gory descriptions of blood, violence, and profanity are a-plenty. Popular song "Saccharine" speaks of a womaniser, and "Demerits" leaves listeners wondering if the album came from the you-know-whats ward of St Mungo's.

I write this as a concerned mother. If you were weary when Cannibal Coven's album hit the shops but decided to let it pass, do not do the same for this album. As we work so hard to keep a tidy house, be sure to keep Fylth out of your home.

INFINITE MAY DROP BAND PARIAH

Report by J.J. McDougal

Based on sales of their sophomore album, Fylth, Pariah may prove unprofitable for Infinite Records, the proud signer of the Weird Sisters. Pariah failed to chart with their new album, Fylth, in both June and July, and their album, Fed Lines, left the charts in March with no promise to return. Meanwhile, the Weird Sisters continue to dominate sales, with 1993's Takeoff returning at #7, 1994's This is the Night moving down only to #3, and their latest release, Burnt Orange, cementing itself at #1.

Strangely enough, the success of Pariah's Fed Lines was not to be repeated. I'm not a marketing analyst, but it is evident that this has to do with the audience. The members of Pariah are roughly fifteen years old. When they produce an album as jarring as Fylth, even with the label backing them, their own age group and chief audience is too young to appreciate its political and cultural messages.

Comparably, the adult population cannot be expected to listen to angry teenagers barely managing to sing over the sound of the wailing Muggle guitar.

Fylth was a risk for Infinite from the start, but the album's singles weakly buoy Pariah above the record company's dangerous waters — for now. If we can expect another Pariah album, what we can expect from it is anyone's guess. ▪

The artist who viewed her songs as her children cried over the shoulder of her friend. Astoria tried to comfort Rhiannon. She said that the critics were too thick to understand the message of the album, and that they had nothing better to do than to attack a band of soon-to-be fifth-years who were only trying to make some money. She said that the album did not merit such dramatic criticism, and that their next album would surely make Infinite proud to have Pariah… But she was met with only Rhiannon's disconsolation and rambling.

"They think you and me aren't a band, like it's a contest between us… That brain-dead Shardlow just wants to keep me skint forever… It's shoegazing. It's on purpose… Muggle guitar my arse!... It's over, Astoria, it's all over…"

Rhiannon saw her dreams as being totally crushed when they were really just coshed a bit by a load of bored critics. Astoria gave up speaking. She tied Rhiannon's bedhead back from her wet face. Astoria understood that Rhiannon wanted her own money and that she wanted to make it big in music. She knew that Rhiannon saw this small failure as a prélude to a future of hopelessness. It was scary to Rhiannon, and it hurt. It felt like the album had been a wasted effort. Astoria, though, was motivated to make a better album when Rhiannon was convinced that the band had already done its best. Astoria felt, regardless of the poor reviews, that she really ought to leave Pariah and let it metamorphose from the so-called confused style Astoria's involvement had created. When she expressed this, in gentler terms, to Rhiannon, she made it worse. The devastated girl begged her not to leave. So Astoria said she would stay. They would write more music. They would create a hit album. They would, they would, they would… The objectives were empty for the time being; they were only to make Rhiannon calmer.

Rhiannon moved away sulkily, kicking the periodicals to the floor. She wondered aloud what people she knew thought of the album. She was worried what Hestia would think. She was worried what Flora would say. Astoria wasn't worried. Money or no money, Rhiannon was under her roof, as safe as she could be with Death Eaters, dementors, and You-Know-Who on the loose. Signed or not, Pariah could always make more music. Astoria left Rhiannon's side and sat at her boudoir grand piano. She placed a sheet of music in front of her and started to play "Ragdoll" by The Hobgoblins, to which Rhiannon had a habit of listening whenever she was upset. Rhiannon heard the beloved tune and followed the sound.

"What's that?" she asked, although she knew.

Astoria sang, sounding completely different from the original vocalist and wondering what Rhiannon thought of the disparity. She found out quickly: Rhiannon started to laugh at her through her sniffling. But that was all right.

"See, this is what they mean when they say we ain't punk," Rhiannon chuckled.

Astoria ducked her head forward to mess up her morning hair further, struck her keys overenthusiastically, and comically imitated the original song's shouting.

Rhiannon perked up entirely and sang the chorus with Astoria, which they both sang in seriousness, because they knew that no matter what the reviewers at the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly thought, they sounded just fine together.

"Did you transcribe that with magic?" Rhiannon asked animatedly.

"There's no spell that can do that of which I am familiar," said Astoria.

"You tellin' me you put this whole song to piano by yourself?"

"I thought you might want to cover it one day; you listen to it so much. I wanted to have this ready."

"Astoria, you're the best."

"I try…"

She did try. Nearly all the music in the room was part of her attempt to be a great friend. She knew she wasn't always appreciated, but when she was, it made her feel supreme. The problem was so many of her goals to achieve that feeling were uphill battles. If it wasn't music, it was something else. All of the issues of Transfiguration Today and Challenges in Charming that were beginning to clutter her room were part of her attempt to be a great witch. Some days she had the notion that she was dreadful at magic; other days, she was aware of her progress. The glorious sheet of parchment saying she had earned an Outstanding on her Astronomy O.W.L. made known of her attempt to be a great astronomer. That attempt, at least, was working.

Astoria heard Daphne walking to breakfast. Astoria was quick to get the stolen morning newspaper and her sister's Witch Weekly back in her robe. She and Rhiannon meant to sneak back into the breakfast room and place them on the table with no one noticing they were ever gone. When the two reached the staircase, though, they saw Daphne standing quite still on the mezzanine. She was listening to a conversation from below, and when Astoria and Rhiannon tiptoed to her side, Daphne held one finger to her lips.

"I told you, she would have done better home-schooled. I told you all along. There wouldn't have been any boys to distract her from her studies," Astoria's father complained about Daphne.

"What is done cannot be undone," said Astoria's mother.

"Estelle, dear, the child earned three O.W.L.s — two legitimate ones, what with that Divination having wasted enough of her time…"

"But she will live a happy life regardless, will she not? She earned an "E" in Arithmancy, your favourite subject. She has the capabilities."

"She has not the credentials."

"She needs not the credentials. We have talked about this. All the money we have set aside for her? Adam, are you forgetting? I will take that silly report away from you if you keep looking at it."

"Astoria," mumbled her father. "We need to get Astoria some help. Her marks are low in some of these classes. She has her O.W.L.s in June… Her report can't look like this."

"In that case, I suggest we start by buying the poor dear a new wand. Transfiguration gives her the most trouble."

"A new wand, yes, we'll see what that does… Where is my paper?"

"So that's it, then. We're both failures," said Daphne quietly, looking at the floor.

"You're not failures," Rhiannon spoke up from behind.

Daphne made a noise and started down the stairs again. Astoria handed her the newspaper before she could get too far away. Daphne understood to act like she had been the one reading it; Astoria was too "gentle" for the news. Then it was Rhiannon's turn to comfort Astoria.

"Hey, a new wand'll help. Probably take some of the stress away. And, you never know, you might be three times the witch with a wand that actually works. A new wand might help you with your Patronus… You're gonna need it…"

Astoria thought only of her wand during breakfast, for Rhiannon had not helped. She stared at her parents and waited for them to bring up the topic. The wand was her personal project. It was a beautiful instrument that only she could learn how to play. Owning any other wand would mean that she had surrendered, or at least it would mean that her parents had given up believing in her yet again. She had come so far, she thought. And yet, with the career she wanted on the line, she had the nagging voice that a different wand was the answer. She needed N.E.W.T.s in Astronomy, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Charms. No one in their right mind would aim for a Transfiguration N.E.W.T. with a finicky wand. If Rhiannon had a point, if Astoria could be three times the witch with a better wand, why was she so hesitant? Was it really because of that old saying about the wands choosing the wizards? Wasn't that childish?

"Astoria, your mother and I were thinking…"

Here it comes.

"…it is in your best interest to seek a new wand. Now, since you received a letter yesterday requesting your presence at the Infinite Records Headquarters today, we shall make both stops in one trip."

"Wait, you read my letter? You didn't tell me we had to be there."

"I did not tell you because I did not want to worry you. The meeting is not until one o'clock today, and there was no need for you to dwell on it all through yesterday."

Rhiannon certainly looked like she wished she had known, and she had a right to know just as Astoria did. If her father hid one letter from her, how many had he hidden before and would he hide in the future? How early was she going to have to get up to go through the post?

"We will go to Ollivander's first if you get ready quickly. He takes a long time in selling wands," said Astoria's mother.

"I don't want a new wand," Astoria finally announced. "Not at all."

"Not at all?" her mother asked, surprised. "Yours is so inconvenient."

"No, I like my wand. I'm getting used to it. I'm getting much better."

"Astoria, we're getting you a new wand for your safety and for the sake of your academics," her father said sternly.

"I'm safe with this wand!" Astoria said inaccurately. "It worked when we practised D.A.D.A. in the Astronomy library… Isn't that right, Rhiannon?"

"Er, yeah. Yes, it worked all right."

"You girls need to get ready to go," Astoria's mother said.

Astoria was silent when she was told that she would need to bring her wand with her. Thinking of somebody else using her wand better than she ever did was driving her mad. Then again, knowing Mr Ollivander's fanaticism, he might simply burn her old wand…

Astoria could not stop the anger toward her parents and toward Daphne, who was obviously satisfied that she was not the only daughter who had disappointed them. On the girls' way back upstairs, Astoria decided to pick a fight.

"Well, at least one of us is happy that my wand's being taken from me!"

The little, sour smile fell from Daphne's face immediately. Rhiannon slowed her climb.

"Oh, get over yourself, Astoria. It's only a stupid wand. If it isn't working, there is no reason to keep it," Daphne said, trying to pretend she was the logical one.

"It's wrong to get rid of a wand that isn't damaged!"

"What, 'The wand chooses the wizard?' Really? That's something wandmakers say to get people to buy those expensive ones that react quickly. For heaven's sake, Astoria — wands don't have brains!"

"Obviously they don't have brains! But everyone is different, and every wand channels magic a little differently, too. They have a sort of… personality! That's why they say the wand chooses you. What if Maman and Dad said you had to get a new wand?"

"What if Maman and Dad said YOU had to get a new wand?" Daphne imitated childishly, traipsing away to her room to primp. "Maman and Daddy don't even think I need a wand at all!"

With Daphne out of the way, Rhiannon spent most of the time during which Astoria was getting ready for the trip worrying aloud about the Infinite Records meeting.

"They're going to drop us, I know it…"

"Then we'll find another label."

"No other label'll take us… Our album's flop was too high-profile…"

"'High-profile?' Rhiannon, this isn't a political scandal. We'll find another label."

"What label?"

"I don't know… I can't think of one off the top of my head!"

"Well, I'd be more worried about this meeting than finally getting a better wand!"

Rhiannon was proving insufferable with her lack of sympathy when it seemed that all Astoria had ever done was outpour hers. Astoria felt as though she had two sisters and was running out of ways to make the best of it. On the trip to the wand shop, she daydreamed about what might happen if she simply refused to hand over her wand. She could not keep her hand off of it as it travelled with her for the last time in the pocket of her robes.

Better wand… she thought scathingly. What if I am exactly the same with another? What will that say about me?

They were inside Ollivander's. Rhiannon was peering at the labels on the boxes, clearly thinking of how there wasn't a wand in the shop that had the core of hers. Rhiannon had nothing to worry about, though. Her wand was cheap, but it worked just fine, and she had no parents to tell her otherwise! Rhiannon continued looking the walls up and down whilst Daphne examined her manicure. Astoria thought of Diane Carter and Chiyo Akiyama making fun of her ineptness with her wand. She had wanted to prove herself to people like them, even if they wouldn't acknowledge that they had been wrong. Her getting a new wand would only give the bullies fuel. Perhaps, she thought, she could explain it to her parents that it was a matter of dignity. They were always ready to listen to the dignity argument…

Her parents' faces were fixed. They were waiting patiently whilst a young man whom Astoria recognised as Neville Longbottom was trying out the wands in front of Mr Ollivander. Neville's gaudily-clothed grandmother was less patient.

"Can't you see none of these will do for this boy‽ I want to see what you have back here—"

She shimmied her way past the wandmaker and ushered him to follow.

"Now what do you think of this? A nice, classic English oak—"

"Madam, please, even the ones that have already tried his hand are much more sympathetic than any English Oak will ever be…"

"No, no, Neville likes Herbology, don't you Neville? Give him an oak!"

At this point, the wandmaker blatantly ignored Mrs Longbottom and returned to check on the end user. He took one wand from Neville's hand and replaced it with another, then another.

"Hestia has English oak," Rhiannon mentioned toward the shelves. "English oak n' unicorn, wouldn't you know? Uses it like a natural. They say Merlin had English oak…"

"Yes, that's lovely," Astoria said emptily.

Neville was awarded the wand that chose him regardless of his grandmother's opinion. She was arguing with Mr Ollivander, and did not hesitate to bring up Neville's weaknesses in magic all the way to the till. Neville, meanwhile, had sneaked closer to the door. He recognised Astoria from having reviewed for the Astronomy O.W.L. with her a few times. Astoria greeted him and intended to introduce him to Rhiannon and Daphne, but the former had wandered, and the latter was glancing at the back of Neville's head judgmentally.

"O-Old one broke?" he asked Astoria, staring at her forehead.

Astoria used the excuse to take out her unbroken wand, just to see it in her hands before it would be stolen from her.

"My parents want me to get another one since… well, I'm not the best with this one."

Neville screwed up his face at her palms. He seemed to be fighting the dimness of the room.

"Is that cherry?" he discerned despite the poor lighting.

"Yes, it is."

Neville looked quickly back at his grandmother, who had just reluctantly paid Mr Ollivander.

"The one I have now is cherry," he whispered. "This was probably a huge mistake…"

Neville's grandmother was walking toward him. Astoria's parents were looking at her, for it was her turn.

"Ah, Mr and Mrs Greengrass," said Mr Ollivander. "You are here for Astoria, correct?"

That was when Astoria's defiant heart swelled and raced. Both she and Neville were considered unskilled with magic. Both she and Neville had been chosen by these fussy cherry wands. That was how it was supposed to be. That was how she and Neville would prove themselves great after being considered second-rate for so long. She put her wand back in her pocket.

"No, it was no mistake," Astoria beamed at Neville. "In fact…"

Astoria turned to Mr Ollivander, thanked him for making her such a positively wonderful wand, and simply left the shop, laughing with Neville. She should have known all along — her parents were too concerned with keeping up appearances to make a scene in public.