Astoria of Slytherin: The Complete Series

by PerfidiouslySnatching

Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy clash when they meet. (It's not Draco's fault Astoria's best friends with the only Muggle-born in Slytherin, right?) Their habit of keeping things from each other dies hard once the war creeps upon them. It takes some time and several mistakes, but they come to understand what it means to really love another person through thick and thin.

19. 2:5 Foes

Book 2: Astoria Greengrass and the Haunt of Azkaban

Song rec: "Outsiders" by Au/Ra

---

It rapidly became apparent to the Hogwarts population that Dolores Umbridge was more than a bad professor; she was intent on imposing herself on the school in a way that had never been done before. Her goal of inspecting every instructor in Hogwarts could have been constructive, but with her bureaucratic attitude and blatantly dictatorial aspirations, few students expected improvement rather than pointless disturbances from a woman who should have been teaching them how not to get killed by the Dark forces. Umbridge planned to review one regular and one N.E.W.T. class per teacher. Fortunately, Umbridge mostly planned to review fifth-year classes rather than Astoria's class, either to see how well teachers prepared students for O.W.L.s or, more likely, because she had a grudge against the class of 1998.

At dinner on Monday, Rhiannon was gazing at the great chocolate cake that Professor Sinistra was eating, jealous that she did not have a meal as comparably unhealthy that evening.

"Ah… when do we get to go to Hogsmeade?" Rhiannon whined. "They sell cakes like that at Honeydukes, and I'm going through withdrawal."

Astoria suggested that Rhiannon eat some fruit with sugar sprinkled on it, but Rhiannon said it would not be the same as chocolate, and she was right.

"Do you know when the first Hogsmeade visit is?" Astoria asked Draco that night as Professor Sinistra Summoned their essays to her desk and made a face at them.

"Not for another month, at least," said Draco.

"Why do they let the teachers go but wait to send us until October?"

"Well, Astoria, they're teachers, that's why," Draco smiled.

Astoria felt silly and childish. Of course they were teachers and free to do as they like. It had been a rhetorical question, just enough to keep the conversation going. What a stupid way to go about it.

"Don't you have to go to Hogsmeade to see your producer?" he continued.

"Mr, er, Davis's main office is in Diagon Alley, actually," Astoria stammered, "and, well, we don't have to go there unless we're recording."

"Too bad you can't use that as an excuse to go there, then. Unless you hold a concert there before October, that is."

"You really want to go to a concert, don't you? Is it just so you can throw things at me from the audience?"

"Me? Never."

Despite the fact that the remaining singles were released and Pariah was getting airplay on the wireless, the cheque that came for September provided only thirty Galleons for each of the girls. It came as a shock, for with other students singing their songs when they came on the wireless and with a few notable clusters of fans, it seemed strange that the sales were the lowest they had been. Flora and Hestia reasoned that since the band had reached about eight-hundred sales, and there were about one-thousand students in their school — that is to say, in their age bracket — everyone that was going to buy the album had already bought it. That had not been good news to Rhiannon's ears. By the end of the week, however, Astoria saw that Rhiannon had cheered up substantially. On the first Saturday in October, the students were able to go to Hogsmeade. Rhiannon hurried to Honeydukes straightaway to seek a delectable chocolate cake. Unfortunately, the baker informed Rhiannon that he did not have any available. Disappointed, Rhiannon settled for a dozen chocolate cupcakes instead.

"Oh wait," she said right through a cupcake, "I gotta go to th' Hog's Head inna bit. 'Mione Granger says Harry's gonna givva speech about th' Dark Arts or summmm. Any o' you lot wanna come?"

Flora had already scampered away, her mousy hair flipping wildly in the wind, at the sight of Rhiannon's half-chewed food. Similarly, Astoria was certain that a place such as the Hog's Head was not her kind of environment, and let Rhiannon know so immediately. Hestia looked somewhat conflicted.

"A speech about the Dark Arts?" Hestia questioned uneasily. "What's she mean by that? About… about You-Know-Who? Or the class? Or what?"

"I'm not sure meself," Rhiannon grunted. "Something about both I think… I heard Luna Lovegood mutter something about Hermione telling her… Maybe he wants to tell people about Cedric Diggory or Lord What's-His-Name, that's what I figured."

Hestia shuddered and said, "No thank you."

"All right," Rhiannon said. "See you later!"

Hestia and Astoria stood unguarded from wind gusts on High Street. Astoria raised her arms with her elbows pointed above her head in a silly fashion in order to guard her hair, but it was futile, for her hair was apparently very attractive to tiny autumn leaves. Hestia was blinking rapidly as the wind stung her eyes and said, "I need to go to Dogweed and Deathcap."

"What ever for?"

"I want to try some experiments with Scopolia."

"Isn't that poisonous?"

"Yes, if you ingest a large amount. But in tiny doses, it can relieve motion sickness and some motor disorders. Things people don't think about."

Hestia led Astoria to a creepy little shop that had all kinds of spiked, flowery, moving, and monstrous plants piled in its windows. To add to Astoria's discomfort, she and Hestia were the only customers. A witch with a high collar and low hat informed Hestia that they had no potted Scopolia, only seeds, and Hestia happily accepted the seeds before Astoria ushered her to Rosa Lee Teabag, a graceful little teashop in which one would never find a potted plant with fingers. It was there that a group of students spotted the pair and started asking them questions about Pariah.

"Flora or Hestia?" a tall wizard leading the group asked immediately.

"Hestia," both girls said.

"Who's the leader of the band?" a first-year girl asked.

"Er, we don't really have a leader," Hestia said.

"The frontwitch, then," another witch said more directly.

"Well, I sing on most songs," Astoria said, slightly irritated that no one seemed to have read the booklet that came with the album, "but Rhiannon's lead guitar."

"Are you going to have a concert on a Hogsmeade weekend?" a seventh-year witch asked.

"I think that'd be fun," said a young wizard who looked to be her little brother.

After having heard about concerts enough from Draco Malfoy, Astoria said, more to Hestia than to the group, "We have to see if our manager can schedule one."

"How long have you been together?" the first-year witch asked politely.

"…What was it, November of last year?" recalled Hestia.

"I believe so," Astoria said.

Almost as a relief, the owner of the teashop hobbled over and told the group that if they were not customers, they would have to leave, for the shop was too small to hold extra people. Not long after, Hestia and Astoria made their way back to the road that Rhiannon had turned down to get to the Hog's Head and met her there.

"How was the speech? Did you learn anything?" Astoria asked Rhiannon.

"Oh… yeah," Rhiannon murmured. "I learnt that it don't matter who you are as long as you're in Slytherin."

"How do you mean?" Hestia asked, concerned.

"I mean," Rhiannon said as though a previous anger was resurfacing, "that even though everyone knows I'm Slytherin's Blot, a few people still think I'm as malevolent as Parkinson and Malfoy. They even know I'm in the bloody band… I literally sing about equality."

"Who?" demanded Astoria, perhaps a bit too Slytherin-like herself. "Who was rude to you at that gathering?"

"Some berk named Zacharias Smith, that Lavender Brown girl, and the Weasley twins."

Astoria saw a large cluster of students file out of the shabby pub at the end of the street and walk their way. She had Rhiannon indicate who Smith and Brown were for potential later reference.

"I'm sorry about them, Rhiannon," said Hermione Granger considerately as she passed by the girls with Harry Potter and a Weasley boy (who was not one of the twins). "People can be so ignorant, can't they?"

"Oh, it's not you lot's fault," Rhiannon said, her face turning pink.

"Are you sure you don't want to join? I'll make sure those four don't bother you," said Hermione vaguely.

"I, er…" Rhiannon stuttered nervously. "I'm a bit tired of being the only one of something, see…"

Hermione studied Astoria, Hestia, and Flora for a moment whilst the Weasley boy peeked at them from behind Hermione's hair.

"Well, you are certainly welcome to bring your friends with you," Hermione smiled.

"Bring us where?" Flora asked Rhiannon, who was not listening.

"I'm sorry, really. I get enough from my own House," Rhiannon laughed anxiously.

Hermione nodded sympathetically and said, "All right. I understand," before she left with her friends.

"What was that?" Hestia asked in a very Flora-like way.

"They're going to practise Defence Against the Dark Arts outside of class, since, well, class isn't really a class no more," Rhiannon said. "They've formed a club. I didn't sign up."

"Oh," Hestia nodded. "Yeah, why do more work than necessary?"

"I think it's a good idea," Flora disagreed with Hestia. "Professor Umbridge is not going to like it one bit, though. I'm not sure about being around Gryffindors, though."

"Maman said we ought to read about D.A.D.A. in the library," Astoria suddenly remembered. "I forgot to… We could do that instead by ourselves. Maybe we could learn some useful counter-curses, and I'd be happy to teach you how to make a Shield Charm. It won't make up for the lack of a decent class, but…"

"No, that's great," Rhiannon smiled, alleviated.

"Ehh," Hestia griped, "I can't say I'm going to join you. That's like taking two D.A.D.A.s."

"I normally wouldn't want to either, Hestia, but I think I have something that could change your mind," Rhiannon said ominously.

The four girls walked back to their dormitories and removed their leaf-coated shoes. Rhiannon reached under her unmade bed to retrieve her suitcase and pull a bulky scrapbook out of it. She crawled onto her bed clumsily and scooted toward her pillow to make room for the other girls. Laying her scrapbook flat on the mattress in view of the other girls, she said "Striker the World Cup Pup," and it sprung open to the first page, which was full of newspaper clippings. Rhiannon became increasingly unaware of her curious friends as she turned each page as though she had not looked though the scrapbook in a while. Astoria saw a few pages torn from books about basilisks, many letters from Professor Lupin, unflattering drawings of Professor Snape and Madam Pince created by Montel Davis, a page of music that had accidentally ripped from Rhiannon's notebook, more newspaper clippings, Rhiannon's class pictures from last year, and even a few pages full of receipts from Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Astoria grinned; Rhiannon had kept a very nice autobiographical scrapbook. She had even saved some of her assignments and tests of which she was proud. Juxtaposed on two pages were two D.A.D.A. tests on which she had scored well. On the one from her second year, she had received an "A" and a note that said "Great job!" from Professor Lupin, whilst the previous year's exam had the slightly less celebratory "WAS THIS THE ONLY TEST YOU STUDIED FOR?" from Professor Moody. Astoria then recognised Rhiannon's Music class reports, the strip of parchment which Viktor Krum had autographed for her with a Muggle pen, the article about Pariah that Draco had instigated, and Astoria's own letters which she had sent Rhiannon over the summer. Finally, Rhiannon came across what she initially set out to show her friends. She lifted the clear sticky scrapbook sheet and held up a jagged piece of glass in front of her face.

"Can you see anything in this glass?" Rhiannon asked. "Be careful — don't get cut."

The other three passed around the piece of glass. It had no reflection, but displayed dark, cloudy swirls of smoke and several shadowy people that seemed to blend in with the smoke as the depth of the mirror went on. The foremost person was cloaked in pink.

"Is that Umbridge?" Astoria asked.

"Think so," said Rhiannon.

"What is this, Rhi?" Hestia enquired.

"It's a Foe-Glass," Rhiannon said. "It shows its owner's enemies."

"It's more of a Foe-Shard," Flora said.

"Yeah, well, the whole Foe-Glass wasn't going to fit into my pocket when they cleared out Cr— Moody's room," declared Rhiannon.

"So you broke it?" Hestia laughed heartily. "Does he know?"

"No, I didn't break it," Rhiannon retorted. "It was like that when I walked in. The point is… a Foe-Glass shows you how much of a threat your enemies are because their images become clearer as they get closer to causing a crisis. The images in my Foe-Shard here have been getting clearer and clearer. Now, I seen Malfoy plain as day in this glass, but his and most people's images go away or go back to being shadows. I've noticed there's a group of about twelve floating round here that haven't gone away. They keep getting clearer, I tell yeh. It's scaring the hell out of me."

Astoria, Flora, and Hestia all stared at the smoky shadows in the little glass.

"I'll be happy to study D.A.D.A. with you," Hestia piped.

---

It was almost as if Rhiannon's Foe-Shard was trying to prove its accuracy to her roommates, for on Monday morning, Umbridge demonstrated her rightful place inside the glass when she passed Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four, banning "All Student Organisations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs" who meet regularly without her express approval.

"Well, we can't say we meet regularly… Pariah is a band, and somehow, in her extensive list of words for student groups, Umbridge managed to leave out the word 'band,' so…" Astoria said immediately upon seeing the decree on the board in the common room.

Rhiannon sensed the nervousness in Astoria's voice. Pariah likely belonged under the "Group" category. Rhiannon cursed in her head.

"That she has this much power…" she grumbled. "Well, we'd better be on the safe side and get Pariah, er, 'approved…'"

"I don't know about that, Rhiannon," Flora flapped her tongue and moved disagreeably between Rhiannon and Astoria. "Look at who we're dealing with."

"Flora's right," Hestia said. "I mean, if Umbridge has heard our album, I doubt she's going to approve. Even if she hasn't heard it yet, once she has…"

"What's wrong with our album?" Rhiannon moaned. "The Weird Sisters've made far bawdier stuff than your songs, Hestia. Hell, I've heard scarier things coming from that old singer Celestina Warbeck…"

"It's not only that. Even the sound of the album would offend the likes of her. I doubt she listens to anything coarser than the piccolo," Astoria posed.

Hestia added, "Not to mention that apart from my lyrics, the rest of the album's lyrics are pretty rough for someone like Umbridge. All you have to do is look at what she wears."

"Yes, even Draco said that our album was scary," Astoria mentioned.

"Well, Malfoy's scared of everything," Flora said, "but overall, that point is valid. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if this decree came about after Umbridge heard our album…"

"Surely you don't mean that," said Rhiannon.

"I said I would not be surprised."

Rhiannon's mind went blank for a few moments as the girls left the common room. Upon boarding her train of thought once more, she found herself riding in third-class. Was Pariah really at risk of being broken up by some old Ministry hag who marched into the school the previous month? After all that it took to form Pariah, were they being dissolved by higher-ups because they didn't like the sound or message the band was conveying? It couldn't be real. What would happen if they did ask Umbridge for "permission to reform?" What would happen if they didn't?

"Astoria?" she said, falling back behind the twins.

Astoria's pale green eyes reflected the light coming down from the Great Hall. She had stopped on the staircase and let the twins pass her; she and Rhiannon stood on the same step. Rhiannon froze. She had nothing to say. Maybe Astoria would speak first. Maybe Astoria already had a solution in her head. She always seemed to have the answer to Rhiannon's problems…

"Oh, don't worry, Rhi. We'll figure it out."

It wasn't a solution at all, really, yet it certainly felt like one when she said it. If Astoria wanted to get the situation figured out, it would damn well get figured out. That was the Astoria Rhiannon knew. Astoria carried her head high as she made her entrance in the Great Hall. When she walked past Umbridge's spot at the staff table, she wore an elegant expression as though she had made up her mind that nothing was going to bother her that morning. She walked with such confident posture… Rhiannon always tried not to slouch as much when she was walking next to Astoria, but it never seemed to work. Sometimes it even backfired.

The most notable thing that backfired that morning, however, was choosing not to join Harry Potter's D.A.D.A. group. Merely trying to save herself any further scorn in school by doing so, Rhiannon instead ended up being confronted by Harry's friend, Ron Weasley, on her way to Herbology.

"Think it's funny to squeal to Umbridge, do you?" Ron spat.

Of course! A group run by Gryffindors would immediately blame the only Slytherin that showed up to their meeting. In a way, Rhiannon could not blame them, but she did not appreciate the immediate hostility. It had been a bad coincidence.

"Hell no. I wouldn't talk to Umbridge if you paid me," Rhiannon shot back, trying to get around Ron. He blocked her.

"That's odd, you know, since we've got the sign-up sheet jinxed so that if anyone rats us out, their face'll break out. You're the only one not on that paper. I oughta put the jinx on you face-to-face!"

"I'm telling you, I didn't do it. Why would anyone wanna help out Umbridge?"

"Dunno. Maybe so your ruddy old House will like you more!"

Rhiannon's face froze in anger. Who was this Gryffindor to speak to her like she was trying to ingratiate herself to the rest of the Slytherins? She had always been "Slytherin's Blot." She'd hate them all if not for Astoria. How dare this boy. The only damn Slytherin part about her was that she didn't hesitate to reach for her wand.

"Ronald!"

Hermione Granger and Harry Potter arrived at the scene of the conflict, carrying their books for History of Magic and looking rather drained. Ron became quite unsure of how to react when Harry vouched for Rhiannon's innocence. Hermione firmly told Ron that the informant could have been other customers in the Hog's Head, as Rhiannon would be the last person in the school to show loyalty to anyone who looked down on minorities like Umbridge did.

"Oh. Right, er, sorry," he said to Rhiannon before leaving with his friends for his history class. He looked askance back at her whilst walking away, but Rhiannon kept stone-faced until she saw Luna Lovegood spinning toward the greenhouses and remembered that she had to get to class.

After D.A.D.A. the following afternoon, Flora suddenly showed the first sign of interest in defending Pariah, perhaps having been prompted by the nearly intolerable coursework.

"I'm going to go speak to her," Flora said huffily. "To Umbridge."

Astoria had a different plan in mind and said, "I wouldn't waste your time with that woman. We shall write to the record company and get them to 'approve' us. She's more likely to pay attention to a document with a fancy seal on it than to a group of fourth-years."

"No, no. I want to get this out of the back of my mind now. Umbridge never comes after me anyway," Flora insisted.

"That's because you're already no fun," Rhiannon mumbled.

Flora looked somewhat hurt, and Rhiannon wished she would not have said that, however true it might have been. Flora had said plenty of rude things to Rhiannon in the past, though, and Rhiannon was already in a terrible mood.

"That must be it," Flora said bitterly. "I'm no fun."

But even no-fun Flora could not appeal to Umbridge, as it turned out. The girls were clustered at the very end of the table at dinner and listening to Flora relate her story. Well, at least Hestia and Astoria looked like they were listening. Rhiannon was distracted by another one of Professor Sinistra's appetizing chocolate cakes from Honeydukes. Rhiannon did manage to hear Flora say that Umbridge taunted that she would "'have to think for a long time'" before she would grant Pariah permission to "'reform.'" Astoria then made up her mind to write a letter to Mr Mongaby, their manager.

Speeding away from the dinner table and forcing Rhiannon to stop fantasising about the cake, Astoria led the girls to the common room, where she brashly removed the copy of Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four from the bulletin board, and then walked to the dormitory to start writing the letter straightaway. Rhiannon took the effortless liberty to peek over Astoria's small shoulders whilst she wrote:–

Dear Mr Mongaby,

The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts has recently passed a decree, enclosed here, under which our band Pariah is currently — as she put it — "disbanded." Flora Carrow has appealed to our High Inquisitor, as the decree said to do, but the current state of the band, said the High Inquisitor, is still disbanded until a currently unspecified time.

"You know, Astoria, I heard that Umbridge is frisking owls… if she reads this letter, she won't be happy," Hestia timidly mentioned. "Especially about the 'enclosed here' part."

"Oh, I know. I haven't finished the letter yet. I have some inveigling to do," she chuckled.

Therefore, I must ask you to inform the record label that Pariah is disbanded under our High Inquisitor's careful discretion. When she sees it fit for us to reform, I will notify you. I believe that under our contract, our record label will be unable to receive any pay for our records that sell during this hiatus, but I trust that our High Inquisitor shall not keep us inactive for very long.

Most sincerely,

Astoria N. Greengrass

Pariah

"That's brilliant, Astoria," Flora said, a baleful smile spreading across her face. "Umbridge will be so flattered at your obedience. I doubt the record company will waste any time in helping us if they aren't going to make any money."

"You did put it well, Astoria," Rhiannon beamed, sorry only that she was the second to express her appreciation.

Hestia looked somewhat grumpy for not having thought of the technique herself but was pleased with the result nonetheless. Rhiannon offered to walk with Astoria to the Owlery, to which she happily agreed. Astoria ended up sending Rhiannon into the soiled little turret alone and charmingly explained that she was going to have Rhiannon to all of her dirty work for her. Rhiannon did not mind.

Pariah's lucky day fell on none other than Friday the thirteenth when a copy of the exhaustive document sent from the record company to Umbridge arrived during their breakfast.

—–

Infinite Records

—–

October 11, 1995.

To: The High Inquisitor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ms Dolores J. Umbridge

After careful consultation amongst the authors of this letter, we have found that Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four in relation to the band Pariah, consisting of Ms Flora Carrow, Ms Hestia Carrow, Ms Rhiannon Clarke, and Ms Astoria Greengrass, is void.

The aforementioned decree stated the following:

"All Student Organisations, Societies, Teams, Groups, and Clubs are henceforth disbanded."

The High Inquisitor reserves a right to pass such a decree that exists as a policy for student organisations. In the case of the band Pariah, we inform the High Inquisitor that Pariah is not a student organisation. The preceding conclusion is founded on the following details.

1. Pariah cannot be placed under the "student" category despite the fact that its members are all students attending the school under the investigation of the High Inquisitor. This conclusion is founded on the following details.

A. The members of Pariah are no longer taking the Music class overseen by Professor Filius Flitwick, and, as such, are not dependent on class instruction in relation to their band.

B. The members of Pariah are not members of the Hogwarts Orchestra overseen by Professor Filius Flitwick.

C. The members of Pariah are not members of the Hogwarts Frog Choir overseen by Professor Filius Flitwick.

2. The active status of Pariah cannot be determined by the High Inquisitor, for the jurisdiction lies with the authors of this letter. This conclusion is founded on the following details.

A. Pariah, its members, and its production team are not endorsed by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

B. Infinite Records and the associated company Wizarding Wireless Network are endorsed by the Ministry of Magic under the Media Relations Department of the Ministry of Magic, and as such are endorsed by the Minister for Magic (See Media Relations Act Amendment XII). Similarly, the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts answers to the office of the Minister for Magic. The subject in question therefore appears to be a misunderstanding of interdepartmental jurisdiction.

Be it resolved that the band Pariah, consisting of Ms Flora Carrow, Ms Hestia Carrow, Ms Rhiannon Clarke, and Ms Astoria Greengrass, is to be acknowledged and approved by the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts immediately, for it is acknowledged and approved by the Media Relations Department of the Ministry of Magic, owned by Infinite Records, and not endorsed by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Signed:

Leonard Mongaby

Infinite Records Artist Manager

Milton Hannity

Head, Media Relations Department of the Ministry of Magic

John Davis

Infinite Records Executive Producer and Music Producer

Glenda Chittock

Wizarding Wireless Network Programme Director and Host

—–

"What the heck was all that?" Rhiannon gasped after reading the dramatically extended piece of parchment. "I love it!"

"I think that settles it," Astoria said clemently.

The twins nodded happily, and Rhiannon felt unimaginable relief. Noticing that several students at their table had begun to stare at them, the girls soon found that articles about Pariah's début album had at long last appeared in Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet. The one from the Prophet was surprisingly neutral; it merely gave some of the band's statistics and chronicled the chart positions of Fed Lines, stating that it was currently at number ten of ten on the UK Top Wizarding Albums Chart. Unfortunately, the Witch Weekly one was quite unforgiving.

EAT YOUR VEGETABLES:

"FED LINES"

G. Shardlow

When a bunch of Hogwarts students get together to make an album on the large scale, it's a shame they couldn't have shown that they'd been taught better.

Fed Lines was suspiciously released through the famed Infinite label on 9 July. It's sold about 900 copies to date, but I'm left to assume that most of those purchases are from school friends searching to ingratiate themselves to Pariah, whose name can be found on a promotional poster plastered on the window of Diagon Alley's WWN building. And I'm not even surprised that the kids are overlooking such a ridiculous Muggle guitar.

The girls of Pariah are about fourteen years old, and their vocalist is unashamed to sound her age. If it wasn't for that, you might have actually been fooled into thinking that they were a group of recent graduates trying to make some money by singing everything between tired lyrics like Sweet Nothing's "I don't ever want tomorrow to become today" and Ivy's suggestive mention of being "tangled."

Speaking of ivy, some of my older readers might remember the funny little proverb: "A Greengrass is a special sort of weed and spreads as such." Well, it's no surprise that Pariah's vocalist and principal source of money is Astoria Greengrass, the youngest daughter of Adam Greengrass, who left his job at the Ministry this summer after having been asked once to help another department. That name alone would solve the mystery as to why a band like Pariah would end up on Infinite Records instead of an underground label.

I'm not really sure what they were trying to do with this album, and it's safe to say they didn't know either. One minute I'm holding my ears against the assaulting symphonic metal song "Useless" and the next I'm listening to the sound of piano rock in "The Things Unsaid." Later we're back to more lyrics that are too inappropriate to be written by a group of new fourth-years. Next time, Pariah, take some advice from The Weird Sisters. x

"Don't have much advice to give, do they? They're the ones singing about Hippogriffs…" Hestia sneered.

"Perks of being a drummer…" Flora, the only one not specifically insulted, mumbled.

Rhiannon looked at Astoria, whose hands were still pressed flat against the open magazine on the table. The insults to her singing must have been terrible for her to read. It was true that Astoria's singing voice was delicate, but Rhiannon thought it gave a sort of calm, melodic beauty to songs that were otherwise harsh and raw. Despite the horrid review in front of them, Rhiannon could only feel pride.

"You know Olivia's mother wrote this rubbish," Rhiannon told her. "You know, Olivia, one of the bitches from my old dorm—"

"I know Olivia," Astoria said, closing the magazine.

"Well, I'd like to see that woman try to make better music than us. Y'know, Astoria, I love your voice. This woman doesn't like Muggle-borns, see… Guess she doesn't like people with more money than her, either. Real sore about it all, ain't she? I bet she wishes her worthless daughter was as talented as you."

"You flatter me," Astoria sighed, trying to ignore the rest of the people at the table as Olivia and her lot passed the magazine round.

"Yeah? I'm trying to, actually," Rhiannon laughed.

"Thank you," Astoria sighed. "Thank you for supporting me."

"Yes, I'm the one who wrote that song!" Hestia suddenly shouted to a group of Ravenclaws who were sniggering and looking her way. "Sure hope I didn't make your morning uncomfortable."

Parkinson and Diane Carter looked to be conspiring about the best ways to broadcast the article to the entire school, but Rhiannon advised Astoria not to pay them any attention. Rhiannon could tell that Astoria had been hurt in more ways than one. That article Shardlow wrote directly insulted her voice, her family, and her rightful position in the band. However, Shardlow couldn't have been more wrong. The combination of Astoria's voice and piano with the rest of the band's heavy rock provided a fun sound that Rhiannon had not heard in others' music. Astoria's talents made them stand out from the bands on underground labels. Her soft, enchanting voice was what the band needed to make one's spine still manage to tingle in the middle of a rock song. She was an integral part of a group of four girls blending their ideas artistically to make Pariah. Rhiannon kept telling Astoria these things, clumsily so, until Astoria no longer wore such a troubled frown. When Tracey Nettlebed later asked Astoria, "Is it true that you bought the record label?," Astoria replied snidely that she "once considered it."

---

By Monday, a very favourable review of Fed Lines appeared in the Daily Prophet, and another columnist in Witch Weekly indirectly criticised Shardlow's article whilst giving the girls a reasonable review. Astoria saw Rhiannon cutting out both articles, no doubt to put into her scrapbook. All four of the girls were motivated and started catching each other writing in the band's notebook again. They were additionally eager to begin studying D.A.D.A. topics, and they thought of places in which they might practise. It was not long before Astoria remembered the Astronomy library she so wished to visit.

The four girls were travelling to the regular old library after their classes when Flora realised how much trouble they would be in with Umbridge if it looked like they had made an unofficial study group. In a very authoritarian fashion, Flora gave Rhiannon, who had volunteered to enter the library, strict instructions to rent only one D.A.D.A.-related book and camouflage her intentions by renting one charms-related book to go with it.

"Remember that all rentals are recorded, and the pink woman will take to peeking at them, too. Just get one, and make it good. Not too good, mind you, we can't have you walking out of there with books along the lines of 'Learning Defensive Spells: A Book for Ripped-Off D.A.D.A. Students.'"

"Gotcha."

"We're going back to the common room. Keep the book in your bag and meet us there. We'll look at it in the dormitory. Understand?"

"Gotcha. See you lot later."

Astoria and Hestia eagerly awaited Rhiannon's return since Flora had made such a big deal about it, but soon, she came back with the books uneventfully.

"You know Pince doesn't let you rent newspapers?" Rhiannon said meditatively as Astoria unlocked the door to Room 106.

"The vast majority of libraries don't allow people to take out the newspapers. They're there for archival reference, but they can't risk people mishandling history like that," explained Astoria.

"Yeah, well, it's not too good for anyone who wants to read a newspaper and has to be stuck in there with crotchety old Pince to do so."

"So what did you get for us, Rhi?" Hestia asked after they situated themselves on the edges of Astoria's and Rhiannon's beds.

"Self-Defensive Spellwork," Rhiannon answered, pulling the book out of her satchel. "And some O.W.L. study book for Charms."

"Ah, an excellent choice, Rhiannon," Flora said, "but what is the other book you have there? You thought I wouldn't see? Umbridge is going to know we made a study group…"

"Flora, I know she came after us, but I don't know why you're so paranoid," Rhiannon said.

Astoria watched, but didn't want to get in between those two. Flora snatched Rhiannon's satchel and pulled out a thick, old book that smelled of mildew. On the cover, in a disturbing shade of red, was written 'The Complete Book of Dementorology by Dirk Kirkwall.'

"I told you not to get more than one D.A.D.A. book!" Flora reproached.

"That one's for me," Rhiannon said casually.

"Umbridge isn't going to care which book is for whom once she starts snooping on our group!"

"Shut it, Flora! One extra book is not the end of the world," Hestia defended.

"Very well, then, let's have a look at some spells, shall we?" Astoria finally intruded, and the argument ended.

Throughout the week, the girls studied passages on protective spells and found that they could all learn the Human Revealing Charm in the safety of their dorm. During lunch on Wednesday, before Umbridge's class, Rhiannon's nose was brazenly in her book on dementors.

"Remember when there were dementors all about the place in our second year?" Hestia conversed. "That scared the hell out of me. I heard that there are master wizards and witches who still can't produce a Patronus Charm."

Astoria listened closely. It was still hard for her to picture dementors near the school, even though someone had died on the grounds last summer.

"Yeah, that was something, having dementors on the property," Rhiannon uttered. "The Ministry lies, you know, says they're trained, but they ain't too trained at all. Bloody awful, these things. Wish I could write to Professor Lupin — he's real good with Patronuses, y'know — but with Umbridge spying on everybody, that's not a good idea."

"I could never sleep that year. Flora and I both never slept, did we, Flora? I'd hate to think of what could have happened if one got in the school…"

"Dementor's Kiss," Rhiannon said straightforwardly, and several surrounding students looked at her uneasily.

"What is that?" Astoria asked. "The Dementor's Kiss. I've read of it in regards to something at Azkaban, but Maman and Dad don't like me reading the newspapers…"

"Dementors feed on happiness, positive energy, and health. That's why if you're around one, you about wish you were dead. They absorb it, like. But the Kiss, it's… the Kiss isn't absorption, it's actual ingestion. A dementor hooks onto your mouth and eats your soul. Then you're brain-dead."

Astoria probably could have gone her whole life without hearing that over a plate of biscuits. It was no wonder why her parents tried to shelter her from certain things.

"Brain-dead?" Hestia said, stunned. "Wait, I thought it actually killed you."

"No," Rhiannon's voice turned terribly sour. "No, your body still functions but your soul is gone. Azkaban used to just kill the bodies, but now they keep them on tubes so they can tell when the legal dates of death are and so it don't qualify as execution. Now they don't have to say it's execution. The dementors are trained to immediately perform the Kiss on any escapees. Sure is a motivation to stay in Azkaban, yeah?"

Flora, clanked her teacup against her plate.

"What happens to the soul after that? Is the Ministry seriously detaining souls now?"

"One moment," Rhiannon said, flipping back several pages in her book. She quoted:–

"'Whilst a soul is digesting in the stomach of a dementor, the soul cannot pass into the afterlife. Only after the dementor has digested all the soul's happiness will the soul pass on. The exact time to pass varies from person to person but can be measured precisely in each subjective case from the time the individual was Kissed to the time the body itself dies and the dementor requires more food. One wizard named Henry Harkley took forty-two years to pass on after being Kissed, whereas the average time for an Azkaban prisoner to pass on is reportedly four years.'"

Rhiannon had gathered the attention of more students at the table, all who totally ceased eating upon hearing the revolting subject. Flora's reaction was limited to a horrified expression on her face and the sound of her teacup rattling against her saucer as she tried to hold it in place. Hestia was wiping her forehead, and Astoria felt too queasy to sit up straight. Her mind could barely comprehend the horrific information that Rhiannon presented, but her body seemed to. She was shaking worse than Flora. Rhiannon mothered her upon seeing her horror-struck expression; it did not really help.

Perhaps Astoria could use her verbally-induced nausea to go to the Hospital Wing during Umbridge's class. After all, it was better than taking those iffy emetic pills that were being sold by the Weasley twins. Yet Astoria decided against it, for Flora and Hestia had heard the same things about dementors and were coping. Astoria still couldn't conquer the feeling that she must never act immaturely and indicate she was too emotionally fragile to have been advanced a year in school. As such, she suffered doubly in Umbridge's class and took a restless nap before Astronomy. There, Astoria could not even bring herself to smile when Draco was teasing Heather Thatcham, who looked to be ogling Vincent Crabbe when he got in the way of her proper view of the far more attractive Theodore Nott.

Astoria woke on a cold Thursday morning after a night full of terrible dreams about losing her soul in the woods at Quennell Park. She lay huddled beneath her blankets for some time before Rhiannon let out a great snort. It was as good an alarm clock as any.

On the way to breakfast, the four girls nearly collided with Parkinson and Draco, who were holding hands and walking thirty times slower than necessary. Upon manoeuvring round the oh-so-delightful couple, Parkinson started an offensive imitation of Astoria's singing which carried throughout the corridor long after the girls had passed her. They found a spot at their table near Daphne and Heather Thatcham, which although was not desirable, could have been worse. Astoria was at least happy for her sister's sake, for she seemed to be getting along with her new dormmate Heather after all. Just before the food appeared, a great brown owl swooped over Astoria and delivered a letter from Mr Mongaby. Apprehensively, she opened it. It was very impersonal but contained good news. Fed Lines, he wrote, would be released internationally on Hallowe'en in ten other countries. Astoria yelped delightedly and relayed the message to her bandmates.

"Blimey! An international release!" Rhiannon gasped.

"They probably just want to get more money from it…" Flora said.

"Flora, you der-brain, we'll be getting it, too!" Hestia exclaimed.

"Your album's being released internationally, Astoria?" Daphne overheard.

Astoria was not sure if Daphne had even bothered to listen to the album and was shocked her sister suddenly showed some interest.

"Yes, it is…"

"That's really neat that you and your friends recorded an album," said Heather politely.

"Oh, er, thank you," Astoria said.

"So is it being released in France?" Daphne asked keenly.

"Yes."

"Oooh… Philippe can hear it then!" Daphne crooned.

Astoria felt her face drop. Two and a half months and Philippe had still not written to her. The oxymoronic combination of shy pride kept her from writing first. Daphne could see Astoria's brooding and said:–

"Well… Heather, Millie, and I are going to watch the Quidditch practices today. Our House practises first, and then the Ravenclaws come after. Why don't you come with us?"

Despite the threat of Millicent Bulstrode, Astoria agreed to go to spend time with her distant sister. It was strange to part ways with her best friends that afternoon and find herself in the company of two essential strangers and an amicable Daphne. The group took some uncomfortably high seats on the pitch and awaited the arrival of the Slytherin team. Daphne made quite the show of flirtatiously playing with her hair as they came to the centre of the field; she received a wolf whistle from Chaser Adrian Pucey in return. Heather took advantage of the team's attention to make eyes at another Chaser, Cassius Warrington.

"Aw, Draco looks so lonesome. Where's Pansy?" Daphne chuckled.

"McGonagall put her in charge of a trio of first-years who had detention tonight. She was not happy," Millicent reported.

"I'm glad I'm not a prefect," said Daphne.

The team took flight and began to play, letting free two Bludgers and the Golden Snitch. They passed the Quaffle swiftly, hoping their Keeper would be able to block it.

"Miles Bletchley's pretty cute, isn't he, Millie?" Daphne squeaked.

"…Huh? No," Millicent said.

Astoria thought that Millicent could not have put it better than "…Huh? No." Miles wasn't so bad, but he wasn't worth craning one's neck.

Draco lived up to his bragging. He was a very good Seeker after all — so good, in fact, that Astoria wished he would slow down some so she could get a better look at his amusing hair. But unless he stopped to search for the Snitch, all that could be seen of him was a green blur with a humorously bright top. Daphne and Heather were talking about the looks of the boys more so than their actual playing, and Astoria was quite embarrassed when she was the only one who cheered when Draco caught the Snitch.

"Greengrass? What are you doing here?" he shouted down to her.

"Judging you!" she called back light-heartedly.

Draco smiled and let the Snitch go again to continue his practising. When the Slytherin team left and the Ravenclaws arrived, Astoria felt, deep down, that she had seen all she needed to see and was beginning to waste her time.

"Hey! How are my favourite cousins doing?"

Asenath Greengrass had walked onto the field, having gracefully sneaked herself between Ravenclaw supporter Swati Pevekar and Ravenclaw Beater Joan Kerridge. Giving a parting smile to the girls, she ran all the way up to Astoria's seat.

Asenath was a Gryffindor in Daphne's year; her attributive red and gold tie swung loosely against her vest. Asenath was Uncle Faunus and Aunt Elly's daughter, and like them and most of her siblings, she was recognisable as Gryffindor without the tie. Asenath sauntered round with her blouse's sleeves pushed up to her elbows, revealing a vicious tattoo of a lion on her right arm amongst a jumble of runes which, Asenath was under the impression, read her name. Her other arm and the rest of her body was known to be covered in tattoos as well, though many of them were in places best left clothed. She was sporting large, gold, hoop earrings and had apparently got a tongue ring since Astoria last saw her up close.

"Favourite cousins?" Daphne disputed. "You say that to all of your cousins."

Asenath ran a hand through her carefully cut black hair.

"Hey, a girl can have multiple favourites, can't she?"

Astoria scoffed, "That rather undermines the definition of a favourite, dear."

"Oh, hush up. So," said Asenath, moving past Daphne and Astoria effortlessly, "who are these lovely ladies stuck sitting with my cousins?"

"Me?" Millicent asked genuinely.

"I'm Heather, and this is Millie," the other girl interrupted. We're stuck in Daphne's dorm, too," she joked.

"Oh, that's a shame," Asenath said, smiling at Daphne, who in turn shared an annoyed look with Astoria.

"I'm Asenath Greengrass. I'm from the fun side of the family. Perhaps you remember my sister Ansel? She graduated from Slytherin last year."

"Yes, I remember…" Heather said, then turned to Millicent. "These Greengrass girls all had such pretty dresses for the Yule Ball, didn't they?"

"Hmm? Oh, I recognise you two, and your dresses were much prettier than the ones we la-di-dah Greengrasses wore. I can see you have the smiles to match," Asenath sniggered.

Millicent's face looked to be roasting, and Heather was grinning quizzically.

"Well, I'll see you lot," Asenath said smoothly, and flicked Astoria's nose, which must have gravitated upwards in distaste.

"Mer-lin! She makes me sick with all that sweet talk," Astoria whispered.

"Oh, I know… and she dumps everybody anyway," Daphne scowled. "Biggest womaniser in the family, save for Zéphir."

"Womaniser?" Heather asked. "She was only joking with me!"

"She's been a womaniser since the second year," Daphne sighed. "Of course, knowing Uncle Faunus…"

"Haha! It's a good thing he met Aunt Elly before Hogwarts let them loose," Astoria noted.

"Gosh, the last time I was hit on by a girl, I still looked like a boy," laughed Heather. "I'm not into girls, but I guess it's a compliment, isn't it?"

"It would be a compliment if it wasn't Asenath," Astoria said. "She's…"

"She's mad!" Daphne exclaimed. "I mean, I'm a shameless flirt, and I could really do with a hot boyfriend… but Asenath's on a whole other level. I don't think she wants an actual girlfriend, just a — a flame. Oh, she makes me so mad, parading around with our last name…! Oooh, look it's Roger Davies…"

The other three girls laughed at Daphne's diverted attention when the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain took to the sky. She and Asenath were not that different.

Astoria entered the dormitory later and saw the twins reading Self-Defensive Spellwork.

"I already know the Revulsion Jinx," Hestia huffed.

"And the Full-Body Bind Curse, and the Leg Locker Curse…" Flora said. "Hello, Astoria. I think we're ready to start practising in the Astronomy library. I think you and Rhiannon should be the guinea pigs tomorrow by practising there before we all go up."

"Why me?" Astoria complained.

"Sinister Sinistra likes both of you," Hestia said. "She's been weird lately. She might not appreciate us casting in there."

"Yes, why don't you fetch Rhiannon now so we can get that D.A.D.A. report for Umbridge finished before you venture into dangerous waters?" Flora said.

"Where is she?"

"In the library," Hestia said. "I'm coming with you."

"You are not!" Flora insisted. "I have to practise my Revulsion Jinx on you more."

Hestia jokingly mouthed "Help me" as Astoria left the room.

After dodging glares from Madam Pince, Astoria found Rhiannon in the very back of the library. She was sitting at a large round table that was covered with extremely brown newspapers.

"Would you believe there are so many dates missing in these archives?" Rhiannon said with her stuffy-sounding nose in a paper. "It's like it's on purpose."

"What are you doing?" Astoria asked, squinting in the dim.

Rhiannon's puffy eyes shot up at Astoria and she blabbered, "I'm, er, researching the Cruciatus Curse. Remember that book Flora had last month?"

"You mean that creepy legal book about Dark magic?"

"That's the one. There was this one case back in the early '80s—" Rhiannon swished her wand to place the newspapers back on their rack before Astoria could peruse them herself. "They convicted someone of using the Cruciatus Curse without evidence. Mind you, they had evidence for other things, but not for the spell. I mean, that's got nothing to do with anything, really. I thought these papers would have some information about the curse, but it's mostly about that case… and Pince isn't stocking all the ones about that, because, well… Guess it was a wasted effort, but I've nowhere better to be. So how was Quidditch?"

Trying to grasp Rhiannon's monologue, Astoria confusedly said, "Quidditch was all right."

"Is our team still doing well?"

"Well, Draco and Adrian Pucey were doing well, but…"

"But the rest of them were lookin' at your sister?"

"Correct."

In spite of Flora's eagerness to know if their Astronomy Tower plan was feasible, Astoria and Rhiannon didn't go until the next night. That way, the third-years would be busy in class above them and Umbridge would no doubt have turned in for bed. There, they would start by practising some small-scale curses and counter-curses. Astoria and Rhiannon sneaked up with the third-year Slytherins using Colour Change Charms to disguise themselves. The sleepy third-years paid no attention to a blonde and blue-eyed Astoria nor to the red-lipped, dark-haired Rhiannon. The pair even suffered through altering their hairstyles; Astoria tied her hair up and Rhiannon let her hair down. At a curve in the staircase near the upper rooms, Rhiannon and Astoria stayed with their backs against the wall and waited for the sound of the shutting classroom door.

"Alohomora," Rhiannon cast upon the library door's lock, and they crept inside.

"I am never doing this again," Astoria grumbled.

"This is the safe part," chuckled Rhiannon. "Umbridge is sleeping. We're coming in the afternoon after this."

"At least it won't be after curfew."

"Y'know, I think you oughta get a permission slip from Sinistra to have access to this library. Then we'll be worry-free," Rhiannon considered.

"If she says no, though, then we can't come up here at all," Astoria cautioned.

"What makes you think she'll say no to her star pupil? …No pun intended."

"I don't know. I thought about what Hestia said. She seems different lately."

"You just don't want to ask her."

"No, I'll ask… If it gets out that we're another type of 'student group,' though…"

"Sinistra won't let the secret out. Finite Incantatem," Rhiannon said, sweeping her wand across Astoria's face.

"What? Shouldn't we stay in disguise?"

"I just changed your eyes back," grinned Rhiannon. "Let's crack on, then."

There was plenty of room in the Astronomy library; the bookshelves were well out of the way. Astoria noticed that many had locked glass doors, which Madam Pince would surely love to have in her library if she were allowed. The high ceilings in the Astronomy library had beautiful arches, at the end of which statues of putti cupped planets in their hands. When Astoria and Rhiannon walked to the centre of the room, the putti flitted back to the tables behind the bookshelves to avoid their spells.

"Wand out, Astoria. So… we both know the Jelly-Brain jinx and the counter-jinx, right? So let's have a little duel and see who can cast it first. The rule is that we won't leave each other under the jinx for more than fifteen seconds, okay?"

"Okay. Do you actually trust me and my wand?" Astoria laughed nervously.

"I do."

Rhiannon summoned a putto statue and muttered some incantations at it whilst jabbing her wand in its direction. The statue blinked and fluttered its tiny wings.

"We start on a clap from him," Rhiannon said, and the girls moved into duelling position.

CLAP! The statue smacked its stony hands together and Rhiannon cast the spell first.

"Protego!" Astoria exclaimed on impulse and Shielded herself from the jinx.

"Oi, that wasn't in the rules."

"Oh, right. Sorry. Fatuum!" Astoria said, then regretted casting the spell when she realised that Rhiannon had been off-guard.

Rhiannon's cheeks filled with air and she started blowing raspberries. Her eyes went a bit lazy and she started spinning all round until she tripped over her foot and landed rather hard on her knees. Astoria frantically released the spell and approached her friend, apologising rapidly.

"Fatuum!" Rhiannon replied.

The room became as round as… round-shaped things… and Astoria thought it'd be best to be round, too. She crouched into a ball with her nose in her knees on the floor and was very proud of the fact that she had become a human globe. She made an effort to start rolling, but she heard Rhiannon's voice and found herself splayed on the floor. Rhiannon grabbed her hands and helped her up.

"Aw, your hands are cold," she said to Astoria.

"This tower is frigid."

"Oh, you can take my robe," Rhiannon said and handed the garment to Astoria.

At a comfortable temperature, Astoria was further motivated.

"I think that we should practise more until the spell is really potent. I was still sort of thinking when I was jinxed."

"Yeah, me too. My thoughts were pretty dumb, mind, but I still 'member what I was doing and such."

As their magic improved, Astoria and Rhiannon could not remember their own actions whilst under the jinx but were being told by each other that they had done everything from making yodels to attempting break-dancing. Even the putti statues were not above rolling their eyes at them. Then the girls tried a more uncomfortable spell, the Conjunctivitis Curse, but did not quite master it, mostly because neither could tolerate seeing the other's eyes swell up and start running with gooey, yellow tears.

It came time for the third-years' class to end, and the girls heard a wave of noise from the staircase. They planned to sneak themselves in the back of the crowd again, but they were interrupted.

Pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat, pit-pat, PIT-PAT, PIT-PAT, PIT-PAT, PIT-PAT, pit-pat, pit-pat…

"What was that?" Astoria whispered.

Rhiannon drew back from peeking through a crack in the old door.

"Just Professor Sinistra. Sheesh, hope she don't fall down the stairs running."

Astoria and Rhiannon sat down at the nearest table and prepared themselves for the boredom of waiting. If Professor Sinistra heard them sneaking about, they were definitely doomed. After complaining about Umbridge for a while, Astoria went to look at the books. Fearing that something more than glass door was protecting them, she did not grab any but tried to remember some of the titles for later reference. When she returned to the table at last, she saw that Rhiannon had fallen asleep. However, Rhiannon jerked awake when a high-pitched noise reverberated down from the classroom. The girls drew their wands and cursed at their luck.

"Do you think that's Umbridge?" Rhiannon whispered and ushered Astoria between two bookcases.

"What would Umbridge be doing at the top of Astronomy Tower at one in the morning? She can't Apparate there, and we would have heard her walking…"

The noise jarringly resounded three more times, and the girls actually found themselves wishing that it was Umbridge… Could this noise be the reason Professor Sinistra was in such a hurry to leave?

POP.

Astoria and Rhiannon cowered at the new sound. Rhiannon pushed Astoria further back and sneaked quietly over to a column by the bookshelf where she might sneak a glance at the intruder without it seeing her. But just as the very top of Rhiannon's head moved above the point of safety, the piercing noise came again louder and clearer than ever…

"MADAM! MADAM, WHERE IS YOU‽ YOU FORGOT YOUR— OH!"

Rhiannon nearly dropped to the floor in fright but then chuckled, "It's a little elf. A little house-elf I'd say."

"A house-elf?" Astoria said, peeking above the bookcase herself.

Relievingly, it was a house-elf indeed. She had enormous pointed ears, wet brown eyes, and a nose that was the shape, size, and colour of a tomato. She was clutching a shopping bag from Honeydukes and hopping alternatingly on each foot. Astoria went to leave her hiding place, but Rhiannon insisted she walk out first.

"EEEEE!" the house-elf screeched in surprise. "Where, where, WHERE is Madam Aurora‽"

"Professor Sinistra isn't here," Astoria reported. "We saw her going down the staircase about twenty minutes ago."

"Nuuuuuuuuuu!" cried the house-elf and fell backwards on her behind. "Her FOOD!"

"Probably won't see her till dinner on Monday. She ain't in the castle on weekends and doesn't come in weekdays till evening," informed Rhiannon.

The house-elf removed her little blue hat and blew her nose into it saying, "Woe! Woe is me — trying but failing again and again and again!"

"There, there! She might not have left the castle yet. It takes a long time to leave this tower," Astoria said.

"Oh!" the house-elf exclaimed before jumping up and Disapparating.

"I need to get me signed up for Honeydukes delivery," Rhiannon laughed. "Lucky Sinistra."

Astoria smiled emptily and uttered, "About Professor Sinistra…"

"What?" Rhiannon asked, stretching her neck muscles from having slept on the table.

"Do you… do you suppose she's fallen ill?" muttered Astoria.

"Ill? How d'you mean?"

"Well, think about it… She's eating sweets and desserts all the time, and yet she's actually losing a lot of weight, isn't she?"

"…Yeah. Yeah, you got a point, there…" Rhiannon contemplated.

"Plus, she's only been here for her classes now, right? Last year, she stayed in the castle like the other teachers. Perhaps she has to… maybe leave to get treatment…" said Astoria, picking at her fingers.

"You mean," Rhiannon inhaled. "You mean like for… something like cancer?"

Astoria's eyes were stinging. "I don't know," she mouthed. "I don't know. She's different. Ever since Hestia brought it up, I've been noticing it more and more."

The dormitory felt like it was light-years away.

---

"I HAVE NO MORE SHOOTING STARS; I CAN'T TAKE THE PILLS…"

"The hell‽" Flora shouted into the dark room.

"Happy Hallowe'en!" Rhiannon said over her own voice. "They're playing 'Useless' on the wireless!"

"Yeah, no kidding! I don't need to wake up to that!" Flora fumed.

"Your eyes—" the broadcast of Pariah's single rang.

Astoria fumbled for her wand in her drawer and turned off the wireless.

"Sorry, Rhi… it's so early…"

"That's all right, Astoria!" Rhiannon chirped. "I don't much like that song, anyway."

Astoria used a faint Wand-Lighting charm to illuminate Rhiannon's face. It was closer than she expected.

"What? I thought you said you were happy with the recording…" Astoria whispered, concerned that Rhiannon did not like Astoria's vocals on the song.

"Oh, oh, I am!" Rhiannon insisted. "I mean, it's not a well cheerful song, is it? Haha, the title's 'Useless,' after all. Nah, I just don't like the mood, y'know?"

Rhiannon's mood had been exceptionally happy over the past week in comparison to Astoria's. Astoria actually thought that it was quite inappropriate considering their conversation about Professor Sinistra being absent so much. Yet Rhiannon seemed to be distracted with her own personal fortunes. Astoria was able to get a pass to the library and the girls had been practising quite efficiently. Their royalty cheque statements had come in the previous day and had provided them with sixty Galleons. The album was released internationally at midnight between the thirtieth and the thirty-first of October.

The weather had been truly dreadful; one could not exit the castle without getting windswept and pelted with cold rain. Despite this, the Slytherin Quidditch team's practices were scheduled nearly back-to-back, and the boys always entered the common room like a pack of wet dogs, often crashing into chairs near the fireplace and falling asleep. That afternoon, Astoria saw Parkinson performing her typical session of fawning over Draco as he sat by the fire, but this time fed him Hallowe'en chocolates as though he were an emperor. When he no longer wanted any erotically-charged chocolate, Parkinson started talking, which was still not ideal, and she asked him how the Gryffindor Quidditch team was doing. Rhiannon had swiped the bowl of chocolates from Parkinson's side and began eating them ravenously as she did her Potions report in a seat nearby.

"Overall, I can't say that they're bad, but Weasley's another story entirely… we'll have to crown him king of the Slytherin Quidditch team if he gets any worse; he'll win the games for us letting in the Quaffle like that," Draco mused.

"Weasley as our king? He's more the serf type, isn't he? But, yes, that's good for us," Parkinson said.

To Astoria's disgust, the two eventually started speaking in rhyming chants, seemingly composing a rude poem about the Weasley boy with which they would certainly vandalise the corridor walls… Astoria tried to focus on her own Potions report until Parkinson started singing the poem and saying that they should sing it at the games against Gryffindor. Astoria started to gather her things to go back to the dorm so that she might not hear the sound, but Rhiannon's voice caught her attention.

"No, no. You gotta make it more catchy!"

Astoria iced up in her seat and watched the most bizarre scene unfold. Rhiannon had changed the tune to which Parkinson had been singing the now elongated poem and sang it herself. Parkinson and Draco laughed, non-menacingly, and had joined her until all three were quite happy with their jeering creation.

What just happened…? Astoria thought.

Obviously, Parkinson had only treated Rhiannon humanely in those few preceding minutes because Draco had done so, but the real question was why Rhiannon would be so eager to make fun of some unfortunate Gryffindor, especially by teaming up with that pair. Astoria knew that Rhiannon was very enthusiastic and competitive when it came to Quidditch games, but this behaviour was unsportsmanlike. Astoria tried to shoot her friend a frown as she went to the dormitory staircase, but Rhiannon was focused on her chocolate again and did not see.

When Astoria went to Astronomy that night, she was saddened to find that instead of festive Hallowe'en decorations in the classroom, there was the horrific Dolores Umbridge sitting on a little chair in the back of the room with a clipboard on her lap. Astoria knew that Umbridge's favourite classes to inspect were fifth-year Gryffindor classes, so why was she showing her face in Astoria's Astronomy? Did she think that the Slytherins would be more welcoming to her after a long and tiring day of making students' lives difficult? Probably so.

Professor Sinistra did not greet her class that night and immediately started their next lesson on the moons of Uranus. She wore a blank stare and hid a tremor up her sleeves. She was in the middle of lecturing about the moon Rosalind when Umbridge twittered across the room:–

"How long have you had the position of Astronomy instructor?"

"A long time," Professor Sinistra answered in a dead voice.

"How did you obtain the position, if I may?" Umbridge squeaked.

Professor Sinistra looked up at her coldly.

"That is to say, what were you prior to becoming a teacher at Hogwarts?" Umbridge interrogated.

"An intern."

"An intern? Surely not under the late Professor Kleinhardt?"

"I'm thirty-three years old, so yes," Professor Sinistra said as she showed the students the position of Rosalind in relation to Uranus's Epsilon Ring.

"Oh, my mistake," Umbridge said in a fake sweet tone. "You look much older."

Professor Sinistra displayed surprisingly little determination in order to ignore Umbridge's comment; she looked as though she had not heard the remark at all. Astoria was getting a fresh sheet of parchment when Umbridge began her gallingly infantile means of communication.

"Hem hem."

Professor Sinistra made no response to Umbridge's noises and only decided to speak to her when a Hufflepuff student startled at a particularly loud variation of the "hem-hem."

"Would you like a glass of water, Professor Umbridge?"

"…No. I was wondering if you would be so kind to tell me… exactly what the point of astronomy is," Umbridge said slowly.

Astoria saw emotion trace Professor Sinistra's face for what felt like the first time in weeks.

"Why, the points of astronomy can be from as simple as things such as stargazing for pleasure to as marvellous as planning which spells to use, knowing when to harvest magical plants, and integrating atmospheric magic within the field," Professor Sinistra answered.

"I see. Now, Professor Cr—, ah, Sinistra, when exactly do you teach the, erm, 'marvellous' points?" asked Umbridge, scribbling mysteriously on her clipboard.

Professor Sinistra was armed with smooth talk and ready to answer:–

"We cover them extensively in the N.E.W.T. classes; I invite you to come see those as well. The way I see astronomy best customised for schooling is to familiarise the students with the outer world before I permit them to try to attain magical mastery through it. I find that this works spectacularly with my students — perhaps you've heard of Candice Telleforsar who saved Diagon Alley from that terrible magical flood in 1987? Or perhaps Gabriel Truman, who has achieved linking Astronomy and Arithmancy to further improve spell accuracy during certain times of the year? But, yes, I am always looking for improvement. Would you have any recommendations for my curriculum, Professor Crac—, ah, Umbridge?"

Astoria turned slightly to try to sneak a peek at Umbridge's expression. The woman's usually stretched and narrow lips were tight and puckered, and her bulging eyes were blinking from Professor Sinistra to the clipboard.

"Well…I see," Umbridge said sweetly, perhaps in fear. "Go right about your business."

Astoria grinned and wondered if Professor Sinistra had been in Slytherin; her clever combination of showing off and choosing the right words had been wondrous at keeping Umbridge at bay. Yet the charade collapsed as soon as Umbridge left the room at the end of class. Professor Sinistra slid into her chair like a punctured balloon. She clasped her hands in front of her lips, and her tenebrous eyes flickered at Astoria, who routinely hung back to avoid Parkinson's group after class.

"She's Fudge by proxy," Professor Sinistra murmured.

---

The dungeons were so cold on the morning that the Slytherins and Gryffindors were scheduled to play Quidditch that Astoria decided to stay in her warm blankets and miss the match. Her roommates, however, did not respect that decision because they were bored. Flora ripped the covers off of Astoria whilst Hestia charmed all of the candles to shine their brightest. Astoria considered hexing the twins with a spell she had recently learnt from their clandestine practices but knew her mind was not sharp enough to control her wand at that hour. At breakfast, she saw that her House had taken to wearing another gaudy badge on their clothes as they had done during the Triwizard Tournament. Astoria refused to take one from a very disappointed Curtis Evercreech, but Rhiannon happily displayed it on her sweater. The badge was in the shape of a crown and had the phrase "WEASLEY IS OUR KING" displayed on it. Remembering the immature song that Parkinson, Draco, and Rhiannon had developed for the match, Astoria sat next to Tracey and Maxwell Lazenby, who, in protest, were not wearing the badges either. Astoria was going to return to the common room after breakfast, but she ran into Max Manson at the top of the staircase to the basement and dungeons.

"Morning, Astræa, good morning. Would you like to try something with Arithmancy with me and Amy?"

"Erm, it's Astoria. I already finished my homework," Astoria replied, trying to get past him.

"Oh, this isn't for class," Max said.

"What is it?"

"Chill out, my girl," Max said calmly. "It's better than Quidditch."

"…Hm, I don't think so," Astoria said and turned on her heel toward the Great Hall.

"Later, Astræa," Max grinned.

"It's Astoria."

"Whatever you say."

"Decided to come after all?" Rhiannon smiled as Astoria fought for a seat in the stadium.

"Yes, Max Manson was being creepy."

"That's nothing new," Flora said, shivering either at the thought of Max Manson or the temperature.

Astoria watched the commencing match with disinterested eyes. She would have been more enthusiastic if the whole Slytherin team were not wearing those childish badges and if her section of the stands were not erupting in a chorus of that dreadful song about the Gryffindor Keeper. Flora looked as impatient as Astoria did whilst Rhiannon and Hestia joined in singing "Weasley is Our King."

Cheering, singing, cheering, singing… the Slytherins were on the pathway to win. Parkinson took the liberty of standing in front of the Slytherin section and making all of the wrong hand motions to conduct them in singing, but nobody else had enough knowledge in music to see her blatant errors… And Parkinson did not notice that her boyfriend was making his fifth unsuccessful lap round the pitch.

"Think Malfoy needs glasses," Rhiannon joked.

Astoria chuckled at the image.

"He'd look like a Swiss banker."

"Hey," Rhiannon said after another chorus of the song, "you all right?"

"Well, I don't appreciate this lyric," Astoria said. "What business has anybody got in saying 'Weasley was born in a bin?'"

Rhiannon nodded slowly upon understanding Astoria's grumpiness. "Ah, he does act like it. Little twonk accused me of being an informant for the pink one. Cornered me at breakfast and everything. Nearly cast something."

"Did he really?"

"Yeah, hope I made this song catchy enough for it to stick in his own ruddy head… Ginevra's the only good one of that Weasley litter, I tell you. OI, OI, OI!"

The Gryffindors erupted in an ear-shattering cheer; their Seeker Harry Potter, equipped with glasses, had caught the Snitch and won the game for them.

"YOU ROTTEN LION COBBLERS—" Rhiannon started swearing along with the groans from their House. "Ah, shite, Harry's hit!" she yelped, changing her tone entirely.

Astoria stood up to see Harry Potter lying on the ground beneath the stands of furious Gryffindor spectators. The referee, Madam Hooch, flew her broom up to Vince Crabbe and started shouting in his face and pointing to Harry Potter. Evidently, Crabbe had flung a Bludger at Harry after the end of play. Back on the ground, Harry had recovered but was in the midst of an altercation with Draco. Astoria and her friends started climbing down from the stands just in time to see Draco in a semi-fœtal position in the grass, blood streaming down from his nose. Hestia stopped to observe the sight with a sadistic grin on her face, but Flora wrenched her arm and ushered her along the way Rhiannon was ushering Astoria.

"Ah, come on Flora, I don't get a chance to see this often," Hestia smiled, turning her head round enthusiastically. "Stupid Malfoy got himself one in the face!"

Astoria flinched and turned to look once more. Harry Potter was also lying on the ground with an expression of pain on his face. Why would they get into a fight over something as stupid as a Quidditch game?

She should have known better than to stay in the common room for so long, but it seemed a good idea at the time, since it was clear that Max Manson and Amy Frome had not destroyed it with Dark magic. Draco and Parkinson entered arm-in-arm, and though Parkinson was fussing over him extensively, it seemed odd that she had not bothered to tell him that there was still a blood stain on the side of his nose.

She probably likes the look of it… Astoria thought wincingly.

Clearly, Parkinson did, for she started kissing Draco as they sat on the couch. Astoria was reminded of the description from Rhiannon's book of dementors latching their lipless mouths onto their victims…

"That dim old woman hardly took care of you… You poor thing…" Parkinson hummed, rubbing the back of Draco's neck.

Astoria brushed the edge of her book about Uranus's moons and ended up seven pages further than she wanted to be. She looked at it anyway, pondering whether she should change her seat or leave the room entirely.

"I'll take care of you now, Draco…"

Leave. Leave the room entirely.

"Got some blood on your nose, there, Malfoy," Max Manson, who had shamelessly been acting the voyeur, called from his seat as Astoria passed by.

Draco and Parkinson looked at Max in distaste and used a washing charm on his face.

"No, no, it adds to the 'look,' mate," Max said with a laugh before the room was out of Astoria's earshot.

Witch Weekly attacked Pariah again in its November thirteenth issue, this time even more ruthlessly than before. Astoria had just been delivered a letter when Diane Carter smacked the issue on top of her hands and strutted off to a safer range. Astoria initially put the magazine aside, but her friends' apprehensive expressions made her open it and search for the article that was obviously going to be offensive.

"FED LINES" ESCAPES BRITAIN, PLAGUES FOREIGN EARS

Written by R. Nettlebed

Pariah's début album was released across Europe on Hallowe'en morning, the perfect time to stir up some horror. It surprises me how youth are so willing to damage their eardrums. It's either that or there's some subliminal messaging in that album telling people to get their friends to buy it so the Greengrasses can get even richer.

The reason the French reviews were so positive is probably because 20% of their Wizarding community consists of the vocalist's maternal family. But even with that knowledge, many articles about the album have criticised the vocalist's refusal to include a French language song on it. They do know she's half-Ciel.

A criticism from Swiss newspaper Die Zauberers Wissen is so accurate in describing my feelings about Pariah that I must included it:

The guitarist will hopefully abandon having vocals on the next album. Her voice is like listening to a Fwooper.

It is a good thing the author wrote under a pseudonym or else the Greengrasses might sue. x

Astoria was praying that Rhiannon did not know what a Fwooper was, but when she remembered that Rhiannon had taken Professor Lupin's D.A.D.A. class about Dark creatures, she abandoned the hope. A Fwooper was a magical bird whose call would drive any listener into insanity; it was also a very nasty term for a singer. Astoria, at first, hadn't liked Rhiannon's singing; it was more like tuneful chanting or raspy humming with the potential to turn into rough screaming at any moment. But it eventually grew on Astoria, as it sounded pleasantly eclectic when coupled with her own voice and was always deeply emotional. Regardless of how Rhiannon sang, that was a truly awful thing to say about a fourteen-year-old girl. Astoria was not quite as affected by the comments against her family this time. The author was some relative of the class gossip, Tracey Nettlebed.

Rhiannon's sausage was going cold, and she was scratching her cheek, evidently trying to hold back tears. Hestia looked to be her body guard, shooting the nastiest of looks at anyone who sniggered at them. Astoria let out a loud "ugh" when Draco walked over and took the sympathetic-looking Curtis Evercreech's seat by pushing him and his plate of food out of the way.

"What could you possibly add to this article, Draco?" Astoria confronted.

"That the author's full of shit," Draco said matter-of-factly.

The other bandmates joined Astoria in her astonishment. Draco, with an approving laugh from Curtis, took the magazine from Astoria's hands and threw it into Tracey Nettlebed's oatmeal. Astoria needed to cover her face fast if she wanted to hide her blush.

"Girls are really nasty to each other, aren't they?" he said amusedly. "It seems that all this magazine does is slam everybody."

"Boys are just as nasty to one another," Astoria reminded. "What about that fight you got into after the Quidditch match?"

Draco ignored the accusation entirely, and said, "See you in Sinistra's."

"Well, that was… kind…" Hestia said confusedly.

"Yeah, you two probably are gonna have a project in Astronomy, so he wants to start kissing up now," Rhiannon said.

Astoria scoffed and finally reached for her letter. It was from Philippe.

She held the parchment without actually reading it. There was his neat handwriting coupled with his sloppy accent marks again… There was the way he wrote her name again… And there were two photographs inside. One was his class picture. His messy fringe nearly covered his eyebrows, but his grey vest was formal and neat. He was faking a smile, but Astoria could still enjoy it as the flash of the camera was going off in his bright blue eyes. Astoria noticed Rhiannon watching her stare at the picture, and she shyly looked at the other one. It was a group photograph of Philippe, Zéphir, and Zéphir's baby brother, Vincent. The elder two were in Quidditch garb and had given the happy little Vincent a Quaffle to hold for the photograph. Astoria finally went to read the letter, which Rhiannon seemed quite perturbed that she could not read.

"What's he say after not writing to you since August?" she asked, still looking at the French words as though they would become English at any moment.

"Well, let's see…" Astoria said and began to quote the letter cautiously.

"Dear Astoria,

"Forgive me for not having written in so long. My classes have been hectic and take all of my time. Except for the rare opportunities that Zéphir and I get to play Quidditch (I hope you like the pictures), we are constantly working to take our sixth-year qualifying examinations. I understand that your fifth-years must also take these examinations, so allow me to wish your sister good luck this year.

"Astoria, I have missed you so much that it sickens me. If you were here with me this year, I doubt that these tests would be bothering me so much. Please reply to this letter in spite of my rudeness; I definitely need it right now!

"I listened to your album, and I love it. Your voice is so beautiful to me. I needed to hear it again, and your music came to me at the perfect time. Zéphir laughs at me when I speak of your singing, but he appreciates nothing since he is your cousin. I hope that you will be willing to sing for me in person one day.

"Until then,

Best wishes,

Philippe."

"Oh, he is so sweet!" Hestia exclaimed. "French boys, huh, Rhiannon?"

"Yeah. A bit overdone, though, I think," she laughed shortly. "Little too sweet."

"Well," Astoria said, folding up the letter and stuffing it back in the envelope. "Well, I…"

"Oh, don't be so unromantic, Rhi," Hestia elbowed her friend.

"What? He sounds like he's quoting an old movie or something," Rhiannon said, evidently referencing Muggle motion pictures of which Astoria knew naught. "I mean the whole first part of the letter is excuses for leaving Astoria in the dark in a faraway country for four months. I don't think that's very romantic at all, Hestia."

Astoria was going to retaliate until she actually started thinking. How long had it taken to write this letter? It was not a very long letter for all of the time spent in silence. Surely Philippe could have thrown something like this together in September… Astoria would have instantly replied. And Rhiannon was right. Almost half of the letter was an excuse, and the rest was about the music.

Maybe Astoria was still stuck in fairy-tale mode leftover from her childhood, for her heart had still not ceased its fluttering since she had read the letter. At the same time, the amount of sweetness that Philippe had crammed into the letter seemed a bit improper for not having sent a single word in over four months. But she was just as guilty, wasn't she? And maybe Philippe really was overloaded. Maybe he really did appreciate thoughts of her, thoughts of the Yule Ball, thoughts of the long walks round the castle's grounds… Maybe getting to listen to her album made his long hours of studying easier. Maybe he still remembered their inside jokes, and maybe he was just as worried about why Astoria wasn't writing. The spark wasn't dead. However, Rhiannon's "movie" comment still rang in Astoria's ears. The letter seemed a bit… scripted. But all of Philippe's letters were like that; maybe he just wrote that way. Or maybe all of his letters were scripted. He always said all the right things, things one could say to anybody…

Stop, Astoria thought.

Philippe was great.

I'm just being unappreciative.

Her eyes landed on the oatmeal-covered Witch Weekly. She couldn't let them linger.

The letter did not make Astoria nearly as happy as she thought it should have. Perhaps she needed to see Philippe again. That would solve some things that letters could not. She would have a good chance of seeing him at her family's Christmas banquet, right? Yes… Getting to see Philippe at Christmas would be a great feeling indeed, almost as great as the feeling of seeing Draco put that magazine into Nettlebed's oatmeal.

Astoria could appreciate her progress in double Charms class later that day. Practising spells in the Astronomy library with friends was so much better than practising in a classroom with bullies. One transfer student from Mahōtokoro was constantly whispering to Diane Carter how Astoria did not deserve a cherry wood wand and how "the only thing she can do with that wand is curl her hair." But, owing to the extra practice in better company, Astoria's Flame-Freezing Charm earned her her first perfect score of the year.

In Astronomy, Astoria could tell that Professor Sinistra was disheartened by her friend Professor Grubbly-Plank's departure since the original Care of Magical Creatures professor returned. As if Astoria was not concerned about Professor Sinistra already…

"Are you all right?" Draco asked Astoria in a mostly self-important voice.

"Me? I'm fine, thank you."

She couldn't bring herself to ask her favourite teacher if she was all right, for if her assumption was correct, the professor would probably not want to discuss it with a student. She almost wished Professor Snape would step into Professor Sinistra's life again, even if it was awkward to watch.

The next afternoon, Rhiannon and the twins were arguing with one another in the Astronomy library over whether or not they should spend their time meditating against the Dark Arts instead of physically practising counter-hexes. Rhiannon, who had been listening to Astoria's ramblings about astronomy lately, informed her friends that the Imperius Curse had its greatest strength during November when the position of supernova remnant Cassiopeia A was ideal for channelling the curse. Flora disputed the legitimacy of that theory and complained that they had come all the way to the library only to meditate. Hestia was complaining about meditating in any case. Eventually, they brought Rhiannon and Astoria out of their meditation, and Rhiannon suddenly exclaimed:–

"Don't you two get it‽ Stuff like Imperio and Crucio is a lot worse than gettin' hexed or Transfigured; they do things to people that stay. They're the things that render everything else we're doing here useless! If I was you, I'd shut my gob."

Rhiannon acted like anyone could simply walk into Hogwarts and turn them all into puppets any second. Astoria had to agree with the twins to some extent, though she did appreciate the time that she got to relax during this little activity. Hestia, however, was more vocal about the matter.

"Yeah? Well, I think you've been taking that Sorting Hat's 'deadly foes' comment way too seriously this year, Rhi. You're starting to sound like Professor Moody."

Rhiannon wiped the beading sweat off of her forehead.

"Why don't you tell me exactly how Moody sounds, Hestia, since you seem to have a clue‽" she barked.

"Paranoid as a nutter!" Hestia said.

"Listen," Astoria said, "if they want to leave, they can leave. You do have a point, Rhiannon, it's good to try to strengthen your mental resolve this time of the year. I'm willing to stay."

Flora stood up, saying, "Well? Aren't you coming, Hestia?"

Hestia glared at Astoria for offering to stay, but relented for being snippy.

"Er, no, I'll stay, too…" Hestia said. "I'm sorry, Rhiannon."

So, Rhiannon, Astoria, and Hestia continued to look into themselves, trying to find any mental strength they had to protect themselves from the foes both outside and within.