Book Two: Astoria Greengrass and the Haunt of Azkaban

Full summary:

Draco couldn't imagine a world in which he wouldn't care what his family thought. If that world did exist somewhere, it existed right here. It existed right here with Astoria's arms over his shoulders.

Astoria thought she had adjusted to life at Hogwarts when Dolores Umbridge showed up. Having not been invited to Dumbledore's Army, Astoria keeps up to speed practising spells in the Astronomy Tower library. But the usual haunt of the tower, Professor Sinistra, is often nowhere to be found. It's no easy mystery to solve in the daily stressors of life, especially when her best friend Rhiannon, her sweetheart Philippe, and her "frenemy" Draco Malfoy are all acting bizarrely around her. Having been sheltered her whole life, Astoria doesn't always grasp the political climate. However, she soon figures out just how far Azkaban's reach can be.

Info & Book Two content warnings:

The slow burn continues… The Haunt of Azkaban takes place during The Order of the Phoenix.

-Child abuse (referenced), bigotry & prejudice, death, language, blood/indirect self-harm (i.e., a scene with Umbridge's quill)

-Book Two is rated T, but subsequent series content is rated up to M.

Song rec: "Rock Star" by Hole

Warm July breezes swept a variety of litter across the streets of east Whitechapel. Rhiannon Clarke noticed that the rubbish near the music shop was mostly beer cans in the summer; in winter, she remembered, cigarette butts largely outnumbered the beer. She had been out walking all morning, sporting a long-sleeved shirt in hot weather. Rhiannon was a Muggle-born witch, the child of Jessica Limmen and the missing Geoffrey Clarke, a pair that had their names written in police records multiple times. Rhiannon no longer had to worry about her violent father; he ran away not long after attacking her when she turned eleven and received her Hogwarts acceptance letter. After that, Jessica became even crueller. Unlike Geoffrey, Jessica figured out that it was illegal for Rhiannon to use magic outside of school until she turned seventeen. Jessica feared no retaliation, and the new bruises on Rhiannon's face showed it.

Rhiannon was not a regular customer at P.R.'s Music Shop, but she was definitely a regular visitor. From her flat, there were four routes to the shop, and Rhiannon checked her broken piece of Foe-Glass before deciding on which route to take. The magical sliver of glass projected images of its owner's enemies which became clearer or hazier based on how much of a threat those enemies were. Since the previous owner of the Foe-Glass was permanently vegetative, the glass worked well for Rhiannon, and she used it to navigate her area safely. Rhiannon figured that if it became necessary, the piece of magical glass could double as a Muggle weapon.

A dud of a bell that should have chimed when Rhiannon walked in P.R.'s door instead smacked her on the ear.

"Update your security system, mate," she called to the back room.

Parker "P.R." Ryne showed himself in all of his grandeur — he wore a stained black T-shirt of the finest poly-cotton, blue jeans that could lose a leg if the huge hole in them were to get caught on something, and a long brown ponytail with the texture of Severus Snape's hair.

"Oi, Rhi Clarke's back from bad girl school!"

P.R. was Rhiannon's favourite Muggle acquaintance; he was the twenty-five-year-old entrepreneur who gave her a ragged, 1962 Fender Jaguar with a sketchy sale history in exchange for doing his household chores. The rest of his business was cleaner, and it was uncommon to see his shop empty. Rhiannon and P.R. had a deal in which he would let her open and play any album in the shop over the speakers as long as she did all of the cleaning in the summer. She explained her absence from Whitechapel during the other seasons by telling him that she had to attend a "reform school" up north; she was sworn to silence about anything magical in the presence of Muggles.

"What'd I miss?"

Moseying toward the "new releases" shelf, P.R. handed Rhiannon copies of Foo Fighters and Jagged Little Pill.

"I'd say check that shelf more later, but these ones are selling fast," P.R. said, walking to his best-seller rack on which the two albums Rhiannon was holding would find themselves in the near future.

"Pink Floyd's got their live album out, too," he said in search of Pulse.

"I'd rather hear The Division Bell, P.R. I didn't get to it last summer."

"Don't like live versions? Well, Division Bell was recorded on a boat. Ah, don't let me fool you, it don't sound like it was."

"A boat?"

"Yeah, yeah! Gilmour's boat, the Astoria. 'Member they made the '87 one on it? Never know what new place someone'll turn into a recording studio."

Rhiannon laughed at the boat's name more than at the fact that Pink Floyd recorded music on it. Her best friend's name was Astoria Greengrass — a name Rhiannon knew would not be found on a Muggle's birth certificate. Pure-blood wizards had some of the craziest names; Rhiannon's best laughs came from names like Ginevra, Salazar, Ansel, Sofronia, and Draco.

Rhiannon started playing Pink Floyd's The Division Bell to make her chore of sweeping bearable. Her own album, Fed Lines, was released not three days ago, but she had not been sent a copy yet. It really couldn't be called an album; it was a ten-track, hastily done flop in the real world. But Wizards didn't have effortful production. They just waved their wands to make shite sound nicer and called it an album. It was a little more than disenchanting to have to try to play the songs to sound the way they had been produced.

After cleaning at P.R.'s, Rhiannon walked back to her flat without reluctance, since she knew from the fog in the Foe-Glass that Jessica was not there. After passing numerous bazaars, Rhiannon opened the thigh-high gate in front of her flat that served no purpose other than to trap litter underneath of the bars. She walked into the crummy little place she could not call a home and into her bedroom to see nothing more than a mattress on the floor, a chest of drawers, and a lamp. She had a mirror, but she kept it facing away. Every time she had looked in the mirror, her eyes were drawn to her chubby right arm that had one of the ugliest scars she had ever seen. A basilisk owned by the founder of the very House in Hogwarts that Rhiannon belonged to had attempted to kill her because she was born to Muggles.

Rhiannon lay down on her mattress and followed the cracks in the ceiling with a pointed finger. Summer in the Muggle world was lacklustre, but the glow of the Wizarding world was always tarnished by the people who wanted her to leave it. But Rhiannon was one to count her blessings: she had made some real friends at Hogwarts at last. Three of those real friends were in her band, a band that was nothing more than a dream before. Though Rhiannon had wanted to do it the hard, honest way, Astoria had made the band possible with her family's money. Even if it often felt like they didn't earn their record deal, the band Pariah was a symbol of progress in Rhiannon's life. Rhiannon had been told by her favourite professor that she herself was progress, since she was the very first Muggle-born in history to be sorted into the House of Slytherin at Hogwarts. She decided that Pariah's music should address the issues she faced daily. Merely being present in the Slytherin common room was not exposing what it was like there.

When Rhiannon got hungry, she went into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal. It was there that she saw a large shadow outside the front window. Frightened at first, she stepped backward into a chair before she saw that it was a plump shadow with wings. Deciding not to bother with the rusted lock on the window, Rhiannon opened the door to let the owl in. It was Twinkles, Astoria's owl, carrying a small package. Rhiannon's face lit up. There in the box was a wizard cassette — her album released at last. The cover of the album had pictures of the band members as children; all of the photos were moving like a videotape except for Rhiannon's, which had been taken with P.R.'s Kodak and not a wizard camera. The other side of the album case had the list of songs:–

Genesis

The Pariah

Venom

Useless

The Things Unsaid

Sweet Nothings

Ivy

Underbelly

Blood Panel

Father

There were a dozen songs that the band had written that did not appear on that album, but Rhiannon knew that was the way things went. Mostly, she was happy with the choices. Smiling to herself, she opened the letter that was sent along with the cassette. Astoria's smooth calligraphy was a welcome sight.

Dear Rhiannon,

I listened to the album, and it is better than I could have imagined. Mr Mongaby has informed me that sales are "disappointing," which is Mongabian for "slowly but steadily climbing." Believe me, all of our hard work is being appreciated. There is more coverage in the entertainment realm of the news than I expected. Flora and Hestia have received copies of the record as well. They wrote to me, and they can at last agree on something: they love it! I know that you will enjoy it, too. I cannot wait to hear from you!

Sincerely,

Astoria

Rhiannon was ecstatic. By the end of the month, she would be getting a royalty cheque, and witches and wizards from across the country would be listening to her music. She found a pen and some notebook paper to reply to Astoria. Her handwriting wasn't pretty. She wished Astoria was there so she could tell her face-to-face.

Dear Astoria,

Thank you for sending it to me! I can't wait to listen to it. I hope you have a great summer. Tell the twins I said hello. Thank you for being in this band — you've no idea what it means to me.

Love, Rhiannon. x

Astoria put down the letter from Rhiannon and sighed. She wished her friends were with her. She wanted to invite Rhiannon for a visit but had decided against it. Rhiannon's mother would probably be furious if Rhiannon met with her "coven," and Astoria was not quite ready to have Rhiannon see Quennell Park yet. Astoria lived in a vast mansion that she feared would make Rhiannon envious and unhappy. She did send an invitation to the Carrow sisters, but they declined, for their family was "freakishly protective," as Hestia said, and "under a lot of strain," according to Flora.

The weeks passed slowly for Astoria. She would play lazy melodies on her grand piano, go for walks round the estate in search of the resident ghost, read with her parents in the library, and have an occasional chat with her older sister, Daphne. Her favourite thing to do, though, was stand on her balcony with her telescope and study the stars. She often tested herself to see if she could find and remember the names of the stars and constellations in a certain amount of time. Her love of astronomy proved to be beneficial: Astoria would be taking her Astronomy O.W.L. during the upcoming school year at the age of fourteen. It worried her more than that which was imaginable, for it was a pass or fail ticket to her future. She wanted to be an astronomer. There was no other option.

On a night when no clouds crept across the sky, Astoria was on her balcony looking at the stars. The air was warm and full of nature's aromas, and Astoria's parents and sister were enjoying the weather in the garden area below, barely visible in the gentle lamplight. Astoria moved from her telescope and reclined on her patio chair, looking upward and trying to stretch the muscles in her neck. She stared at the sky and laughed to herself as she thought about how differently the disinterested enjoyed the painted night. Nothing was technical; they envisioned no quadrants, the stars were merely glitter, and a constellation was rarely identified. Even stars and planets would be mistaken for one another. For Astoria, the sky was a moving map rather than a canvas splashed randomly with light paints. Its capital cities were beautiful but unreachable, but Astoria would not have gone into space if she could. She had read all about Muggle astronomy. To them, outer space was full of litter, rocks, fire, and fear. People had lost their lives venturing through it. But that was not the outer space Astoria knew. Outer space was always night, a world of reflection and slumber, a force of nature which she could feel through her own magic. It was quiet and weightless rather than voiceless and abyssal. It was the network of the Earth, and somewhere in the threads was Heaven.

Astoria's eyes involuntarily connected the summer stars. Directly above the Earth during the warmest months was the constellation Draco. It unfortunately made it very difficult not to think about Draco Malfoy each time she saw it. Draco was a year above Astoria in school and two years older. He had a strong prejudice against Muggle-borns and an ego even stronger. His family was not as wealthy as the Greengrasses were, though he acted more concerned about wealth than Astoria did.

She had met Draco the previous year on the Hogwarts Express, and, at first, she fancied him. That lasted less than a minute, as Draco revealed himself to be anything but desirable. In fact, the only person who seemed to consider Draco Malfoy a prize was Pansy Parkinson. The veracity of her feelings was doubtful; she seemed to be interested mainly in his looks, wealth, and "bad boy" deportment. Astoria, conversely, saw him more as the product of a mixture of seclusion, coddling, and pure-blood supremacism. She had experienced her fair share of seclusion and coddling herself, but she differed from Draco in that her family was considered to be "blood-traitorous." That, Astoria reasoned, had made the significant difference in her and Draco's respective quality of life, with hers, of course, being much higher. And her friendships were consequently much truer.

Well after the forty-two seconds of attraction to Draco Malfoy that occurred the previous September, Astoria met a student visiting from Beauxbatons Academy named Philippe Boisvert. He was a close friend of her cousin Zéphir Ciel; both boys had been in England for the Triwizard Tournament. The Tournament was the focal point of all discussions the last school year, and it would remain in discussions for years to come due to the death of one of the Champions, Cedric Diggory. His death in itself terrified Astoria, but the murderer was another story…

Astoria went inside, walked to her writing desk, and opened one of the top drawers. Philippe had written to her one… two… three… four times. Astoria was going to wear down the edges of the envelopes from flipping through them. She did not need to open the letters to smile, but to touch them and feel the reality of them was enough to make her heart beat faster. Philippe always wrote to her in French. His voice was less gritty in his native tongue; Astoria tried to imagine the sound. Remarks like "I keep thinking about you" and "I wish that you were with me" tended to cross her mind more often than "I hope you are enjoying your summer break" and "I am excited to buy your album."

On Pariah's début album, Astoria had written the song "Sweet Nothings" about Philippe without the other band members knowing. Philippe probably would not know it was about him specifically, either, as the song was somewhat generic, but she hoped that he would like it nonetheless.

The single of "Sweet Nothings" was to be released in late August. Even though the album was selling decently, Astoria was a bit self-conscious about the song and wondered how high the sales of the single would be. Songs with more personal meaning were difficult for her to sing comfortably. Astoria was more reserved about such matters, whilst her best friend Rhiannon had several personal songs that she performed at ease, such as "The Pariah," "Useless," and "Father." Astoria knew that "The Pariah" was about being a Muggle-born in the House of Slytherin. "Father" was a poignant song about Rhiannon's destroyed relationship with her abusive dad. Astoria was not sure about the exact origin of "Useless." All that Rhiannon had said was that it was about liking someone who did not return her feelings, but Astoria deemed it best not to ask about a touchy subject. So far, "Useless" was the only song that Draco had heard them play; Astoria was concerned that if Rhiannon kept publishing her feelings, obnoxious people like him would use her own songs against her.

The end of July brought in Astoria's royalty cheque from the album. Astoria was eating a sweet breakfast when her father handed her the cheque, and she had trouble swallowing her chocolatine after looking at the amount.

"Ninety Galleons!" she exclaimed, pushing her food aside.

"What are you on about? That's hardly anything," Daphne said crankily.

"The album's only been out a few weeks!" Astoria said.

"That's not many sales, though," her sister argued, "if you actually do the maths."

Daphne was not the nicest person in the morning. Then again, she wasn't the nicest person during any other hour of the day, either.

Daphne really did not know about Pariah; she only knew she didn't like it because Astoria could become more popular than she was. Band or no band, Astoria simply didn't have the personality that qualified her for popularity. For starters, she wasn't fake like Daphne.

Astoria removed herself from her sister's presence and hurried to her room to write a letter to Rhiannon about the earnings. All of Rhiannon's cheques were deposited directly to her Gringotts vault until Rhiannon could pick it up. Rhiannon organised it this way so her mother would not take her money and try to pay her "dealers" with Wizarding cheques. Astoria always grimaced at the thought of her friend's life in the Muggle world, and she wrote the letter with such vigour that her writing became sloppy.

Dear Rhiannon,

I received the first royalty cheque. You will be happy to know that it is for ninety Galleons. That indicates three-hundred sales according to our contract, and it has only been three weeks!

When we receive our supply list, my parents will be happy to take you to Diagon Alley with us. I greatly hope that you can come. You will need to tell us where to find you.

Sincerely,

Astoria

She tied the letter to Twinkles's leg and sent her off. A reply came on the day of the release of the first single.

Dear Astoria,

Thank you for telling me about the money. I never would have had it if it wasn't for you and the others. I'm lucky to have it now since the Ministry just sent me a letter saying that they will no longer provide grants for students. I don't know why because I haven't done anything wrong. Also, I wouldn't want you to try to find me, but I will meet you at the Leaky Cauldron before we go school shopping. Send me a letter when you get your list and I will tell you what time I will be there.

Love, Rhiannon. x

Astoria tried not to think about why she could not pick up her friend to go to Diagon Alley, and she was concerned about Rhiannon always walking and taking taxicabs round the city alone. Did Rhiannon consider her home too "embarrassing" to show her best friend? The more Astoria thought about it, the more confusing it was that the Ministry had stopped providing for the disadvantaged.

As the summer drew on, Astoria noticed that her father seemed to become more upset every time he read the Daily Prophet. She would often hear her parents discussing problems at the Ministry. Mr Greengrass had resigned from his job in early July, so Astoria knew that if what he was reading was still enough to upset him, things at the Ministry were very bad.

"I'm so glad you left, Adam," Astoria heard her mother say to her father on a humid morning. Astoria stopped to listen before entering the breakfast room. Her father was speaking about the same problem that Rhiannon was facing.

"I am even gladder than you. Fudge's newest act ended financial aid and grants for Hogwarts students. I swear that the Ministry is bungling everything it can."

"Oh, no…"

"Yes, it's all true. A reported sixty students have had to leave already to be home-schooled. Some families are even shipping their children out to Ilvermorny or tutoring centres."

Astoria felt goose pimples tightening her skin and thought it would be best not to read the newspaper herself. She did not want to be daunted during her holiday. She could not figure out why the issues at the Ministry were arising and desperately convinced herself that they had nothing to do with the recent rise of the most dangerous Dark wizard, Lord Voldemort.

Unlike Voldemort, Pansy Parkinson could not be avoided. Daphne and Parkinson were sending each other letters of great length once a week. Daphne usually exhibited dramatic reactions to the content of the letters she received, but if Astoria questioned anything, Daphne would lock herself in her bedroom and tell Astoria to leave her alone. Sometimes Astoria wondered what it would have been like to have an older sister who didn't act younger than she did.

The new school supply list appallingly did not arrive until the morning before the Hogwarts Express came, and Astoria knew that it would be pointless to send Rhiannon a letter then. She did receive another cheque; this one was worth one-hundred twenty Galleons. After doing some calculations, Astoria found that the album had over seven-hundred copies sold within two months. To any teenager, two-hundred ten Galleons in two months was a great amount of money, but Rhiannon would feel positively regal.

Astoria wondered when the best time to go to Diagon Alley would be, since there wasn't enough time to exchange letters. She didn't know how Rhiannon's suggestion of meeting at a place like the Leaky Cauldron would go over with her parents. Daphne was the most affronted.

"Well, she's your roommate. What time does she wake up when she doesn't have class?"

"Erm, about noon."

"Well, we'll be shopping, and you can sit with the lunch crowd waiting for your friend to — whatever — arrive by aeroplane or something," Daphne sneered.

But their parents would never leave Astoria unattended to wait for her friend. They simply delayed their shopping trip until afternoon. They arrived at lunchtime and found Rhiannon not long after.

"Hullo, Astoria!" Rhiannon called as she entered the pub and ran over to give her friend a hug. "How are ya?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Astoria said quietly.

Rhiannon had a black eye.

Astoria had a sick feeling that it was from Rhiannon's mother and not from any accident. Astoria saw that Daphne was staring with her mouth open and elbowed her for being so tactless.

"It is a pleasure to meet you in person, Miss Clarke," said Mrs Ciel-Greengrass, eyeing the bruise discreetly.

"You, too, Madam," Rhiannon said, shaking her hand. "I gotta thank you in person for everything you done for the band and all. You can't imagine how much I owe you…"

"You owe us nothing, Miss Clarke," Mr Greengrass said. "Well! I am relieved that we could meet you here in time. The new book list did not arrive until this morning."

"Yeah, I know. Jessica wasn't too happy about the owl at nine in the morning, as you can see," Rhiannon said bluntly, a tone of resentment surfacing.

"Jessica?" Mr Greengrass asked.

"Me mum," Rhiannon said, and she started walking out the back of the pub where the entrance to Diagon Alley was.

Astoria saw her parents' flabbergasted expressions before her father shook his head solemnly. The family followed Rhiannon, who had already opened the brick doorway in the wall behind the pub that led to Diagon Alley.

Rhiannon was surprisingly forthright about her abusive situation, but Astoria felt so helpless. Muggle and Wizarding societies were entirely segregated. It wasn't like the Greengrasses had any authorities they could report the abuse to.

The crowds in the Alley moved like a wave in the ocean; some thousand students received their lists on the last day that they could shop. The three girls had short lists, though they needed more things for school than textbooks. Rhiannon gently reminded Astoria of the royalty money so that she could buy her supplies, and Mr Greengrass offered to take Rhiannon to Gringotts to get it. Meanwhile, Astoria, Daphne, and their mother went to Twilfitt and Tattings to buy new blouses. Twilfitt and Tattings was a narrow, two-storey shop that sold higher-quality clothing for a much higher price. Remarkable tailors were on the first floor; superior seamstresses were on the second.

"I want one of these," Daphne said, holding up a blouse to her mother only moments after entering the shop.

"You know they don't allow Johnny collars, dear. That will not hold your tie correctly, and it looks… silly."

Daphne harrumphed and continued to browse the clothing racks. Astoria found two blouses that were virtually the same as the ones she had, only they had prettier embroidery on the cuffs, which were linked rather than buttoned. They would be good replacements for the blouses that had become stained with potions and stress sweat.

"Daphne, try this," Mrs Ciel-Greengrass said, holding up another blouse.

Daphne went to the fitting room with the blouse. She came out a minute later saying that it didn't quite fit, but she liked it and wanted several.

"We'll give them to Anthea then, shall we?"

They went to the second floor, but their seamstress Anthea was busy sewing the sleeves of a beautiful, mauve-taupe dress. She told them she would be a moment and Daphne sighed; Astoria noticed that Anthea flicked her wand at the dress much more aggressively after hearing Daphne's attitude. When Anthea was finished, she calmed down greatly and asked Daphne what she wanted her to fix.

"This style of blouse. This is supposed to be my size, but I can't move my arms well in it. There is not enough fabric under the arms."

Anthea said, "You need them larger, then? You must have, erm, grown a bit. I can fix these straight away."

At first unhappy with the word "larger," Daphne smiled at the word "grown," and Astoria rolled her eyes at Daphne's utter vanity. Astoria wasn't exactly close to needing more room in the armpits yet. Her chest was there, but still unremarkable.

"Do you want a new dress, Astoria?" her mother asked.

Though coveting the dress waiting on the countertop, Astoria said, "No, thank you. I don't need one."

It had become weird for her to purchase things she did not really need after meeting Rhiannon. In a way, it made her frustrated with her conscience. She did love getting nice things.

Mrs Ciel-Greengrass showed a small smile.

"You and your sister are becoming so different as you get older."

Astoria's mother leisurely approached the display of dresses and remarked, "I think I will get a dress for the Christmas banquet now. Materials always start running low in November. Every lady seems to want a new dress for Christmas."

Mrs Ciel-Greengrass picked out a gorgeous, deep red ball gown with silvery glass beads sewn on the bust and tiny diamond clasps to hold the fabric on the skirt in bunches. As she was having it fitted, the woman with the mauve-taupe dress came to pick it up. Astoria recognised her instantly, but stalled to react.

"Miss Greengrass, how are you?" Mrs Malfoy asked.

"I am well, thank you. How are you?"

Mrs Malfoy was not as overtly uncouth as Draco, but Astoria knew that Draco's prejudices had to come from somewhere. Mrs Malfoy had a sharp aura of prissiness that reminded Astoria of Daphne. It showed when she ruthlessly inspected her newly fitted dress by lowering her eyes rather than her head.

"Fine, dear, thank you," Mrs Malfoy said in a tone that indicated she was not.

Astoria had met Mrs Malfoy on the first night of the summer holiday. Draco, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle had been knocked out by hexes on the Hogwarts Express, and Astoria had to inform their parents of the incident. At the time, Astoria was slightly unnerved to see her father and Draco's conversing casually. Mr Malfoy seemed to be even more conceited than his son, and need it be said again, Mrs Malfoy was not much better…

"Do you prefer Hogwarts to home-schooling, Miss Greengrass?" Mrs Malfoy asked after her dress was packed away.

"Oh… yes," Astoria lied. Her previous year had been quite frenzied, but she had to look on the positive side for the coming school year.

"I once considered home-schooling Draco," Mrs Malfoy replied as though Astoria's "yes" had been the wrong answer. After an awkward pause, Mrs Malfoy said, "He tells me you are taking your Astronomy O.W.L. this year."

"Yes," Astoria answered.

"You must really enjoy that course," Mrs Malfoy said surprisedly.

"I do. I want to become an astronomer when I graduate," explained Astoria.

The course was nothing compared to the dream.

"An… astronomer. I see… Now, how is your sister?"

"Er," Astoria mumbled. "She's… Daphne. She's over there."

Mrs Malfoy suddenly looked troubled. "You and Daphne don't get along?"

"We do disagree about many things."

Why did Mrs Malfoy care if she and Daphne got along? The formalities had instantly become a serious conversation about matters that were not Mrs Malfoy's business. In fact, it felt quite strange that Mrs Malfoy was speaking to her so familiarly.

"Yes, I disagreed about many things with my sisters, too," Mrs Malfoy said with a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "You must put up with her, though. She is your sister…"

Astoria had a bad feeling she had exacerbated even more conversation out of Mrs Malfoy.

"Er, I put up with her all the time," Astoria said gawkily. Trying to improve her statement, she added, "I suppose it's the fact that Daphne and I are with one another all year now as opposed to only the summers that has made us squabble. Maybe… because we're older. Well, she's older. I'm thirteen. Well, I mean, we're both older than before…"

Mrs Malfoy smiled slightly. Fortunately, Astoria's mother finished giving Anthea tailoring details.

"Good afternoon, Narcissa. How have you been?" Mrs Ciel-Greengrass cut in to save her awkward daughter.

"I am very well, dear. I was picking up a small gift for myself whilst Lucius and Draco get some things. Draco needs new Quidditch gear again. He was so very disappointed when they cancelled it last year, and his equipment is nearly two years old… Oh, Estelle, have you seen which textbooks the children have to buy? I've heard of Defensive Magical Theory — it does not teach anything!"

"They need that?"

"It's positively absurd, don't you think? They will use it for Defence Against the Dark Arts, but there is nothing of use in that book."

"That book is ludicrous. It had horrible reviews in Parents' Academic Digest. Astoria, darling, you and your friends must learn defensive spells from the library at school," Mrs Ciel-Greengrass ordered.

"Yes, Maman."

Daphne arrived and was obviously ready to leave. She had her five new blouses in a bag, having bought them herself out of impatience.

"We're going to get the textbooks now. Goodbye, Cissy," Mrs Ciel-Greengrass said.

"Au revoir," Mrs Malfoy replied, though she looked quite interested in catching Daphne in a conversation, too.

Leaving the shop, Astoria's party realised that the crowd would make it nearly impossible to find the others if they had already left Gringotts.

"We should check the sweet shops," Astoria indicated.

Her assumption that Rhiannon would have ambled many miles to find some sugary treats was true, and Rhiannon was found savouring a chocolate-covered strawberry nearby a sweet shop as Astoria's father was making certain effort to eat a citrus chew.

"Got me money!" Rhiannon said with great enthusiasm. She held up a bag and shook it, making the contents jingle.

"That's great!" Astoria said upon seeing how delighted Rhiannon was. She must have felt wonderful to get her own payment from her band, and Astoria knew Rhiannon had never even held an amount like that.

"We should get our books now, eh?"

"Yes. Maman, Rhiannon and I will be at Flourish and Blotts," Astoria said.

"I have to go to Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions first," Daphne said.

"I'll go with you, dear," said Mrs Ciel-Greengrass, and they left the other three, instructing them to meet back in front of the sweet shop at two-thirty.

Flourish and Blotts had many more customers than Twilfitt and Tattings. Mr Greengrass went to the back of the shop for reference books whist Astoria and Rhiannon picked up their books for school. The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4 was easy to find, though Defensive Magical Theory was not in the school textbook section.

"There it is," Astoria said, pointing to the "miscellaneous" section.

"Not a good sign for a book on a theory," Rhiannon remarked.

However poorly it was received by critics, Hogwarts students were hurrying to buy it before the small stock ran out. Rhiannon was having trouble pushing past them, and Astoria hadn't a prayer of reaching that shelf.

"There's only ten left‽ And I thought they called this a bookshop," a familiar voice complained.

"Astoria, run," Rhiannon said.

Draco was standing closest to the bookshelf talking with his classmate, Theodore Nott. He looked up and saw the girls at the edge of the cluster of students.

"Hello, Greengrass," he said over their voices.

"See, when I say 'run,' you run," Rhiannon grumbled at Astoria.

"Hello, Draco," Astoria said. "Would you get me three copies, please?"

"I guess," Draco said, shamelessly picking up half the shop's supply of the textbook before other students scrambled to grab the remaining five.

After giving one to Theodore Nott, Draco sauntered over and handed all but one to her, which he kept for himself. Rhiannon looked the other way at nothing in particular.

"Thank you," Astoria said.

He nodded. "Did Daphne tell you about the new prefects in our class?"

"No," Astoria said. "She doesn't tell me much at all."

"I'm one of them. Pansy's the other."

There could not have been a worse girl, and the only worse boy would have been Blaise Zabini.

"That's…" Astoria stammered. There was no doubt in her mind that Parkinson would get her in trouble now. And if Draco wasn't already arrogant enough…

"Bloody awful!" Rhiannon exclaimed. She had a certain way of saying the things Astoria thought but would not voice.

"For you it is," Draco snapped. "And what's that on your face?"

"Don't talk to me, you—"

"Language," Draco said. "I just got you one of the last copies of that textbook, didn't I? Though I've no clue how you'll afford it without cadging off Astoria."

Astoria spoke over the two, "Well, I certainly won't enjoy having Parkinson harass me more now that she has a fancy badge stuck on her robe."

"She won't," Draco ignorantly asserted.

"Of course she won't," Astoria said mordantly. She had trouble believing that someone like Parkinson would be made a prefect. Parkinson was one of the most merciless bullies Astoria knew. Her marks were okay, but Astoria knew girls who had much better ones. Additionally, Parkinson was barely responsible except in the sense of being responsible for an offense. Terrible scowls were forming on Astoria's face, so she tried to think about something else. Rhiannon walked to the next shelf and pretended to look at books.

"Have you heard our album?" Astoria asked hesitantly. Draco was responsible for getting an article in the Daily Prophet about the band and was the first person outside of their Music class to hear them play a song.

"Actually, yes, I thought—"

"Come on, Astoria, we have to go," Rhiannon said suddenly, running back over and grabbing Astoria's arm. She walked Astoria to the till as though it was a raising drawbridge.

"Bye, then," Draco said.

"Er, goodbye," Astoria said as she was led away.

The girls paid for their books and met with Mr Greengrass before leaving the shop.

"Honestly, if those two are prefects, I might get expelled on purpose," Rhiannon grumbled.

"Absolutely," Astoria said. "…You know, he was about to say something about the album when you wanted to hurry away."

"It couldn't have been anything good!" Rhiannon stated.

"You don't know that. He didn't sound like he was going to say something bad."

"Who?" Astoria's father asked.

"Malfoy," Rhiannon said.

"Ah. He heard your album?"

"Apparently. We crafted it to make people like him uncomfortable, but he seemed to like it," Astoria answered.

"What? He couldn't have. And who cares what he thought of it?" Rhiannon returned.

"I don't care; I just like to catch him off-guard," Astoria grinned.

"We have nearly forty-five minutes before we're to meet with your mother and sister. Do either of you need anything else?" Mr Greengrass asked.

"New quills and parchment," Rhiannon answered. "Can't forget that."

The girls bought their supplies and then returned to the sweet shop to meet with Daphne and Mrs Ciel-Greengrass. Daphne was carrying several bags on both arms.

"I bought you some pimple remover for that ugly thing on your chin," she said.

"Thanks, Daphne…" Astoria mumbled. "I bought you your textbooks before they ran out."

"Oh, good!"

"Rhiannon, what time do you have to be home?" Mrs Ciel-Greengrass asked.

"At least an hour before I have to get on the train tomorrow," Rhiannon answered seriously. "Gotta pack."

Mrs Ciel-Greengrass didn't ask Rhiannon to elaborate. Her parents were realising what Astoria had at the beginning of school last year: Rhiannon and her mother were not a family.

"Well, if you have no other plans for today, you are welcome to come home with us," Mr Greengrass said.

Rhiannon remained quiet for a few seconds before accepting the invitation.

Astoria wondered how Rhiannon would react to her house. Rhiannon lived in a flat in Whitechapel, and Astoria worried that Quennell Park would be so imposing to her that it might be offensive. Astoria shuffled behind the group as they went back to the Leaky Cauldron and used Floo powder to go home. Quennell Park was more than a nice mansion. It was a world set off from the real life of many.