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.

20. 2:6 Knockturn Christmas Shopping

Book 2: Astoria Greengrass and the Haunt of Azkaban
Song rec: "Picking Oranges" by Leddra Chapman

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Astoria received two letters on Wednesday at breakfast which reminded her that she still had not replied to Philippe. Putting down her honeycomb, Astoria opened the first letter. It contained warm wishes from her parents and instructions to send them a list of people she wanted to invite to the Christmas banquet by Monday. At least that would provide her with something to say to Philippe, but she was worried that Rhiannon would not want to attend.

"Erm, excuse me… Would you be interested in attending my family's Christmas banquet and ball?" Astoria asked her roommates.

"Yeah," Rhiannon beamed immediately and unexpectedly, and the twins also accepted.

Astoria felt like she had done something right in making friends. Yet her second letter was more bothersome. It was from Mr Mongaby, who told them on very short notice that they were to do a live show over the wireless on Sunday afternoon. A predetermined, five-song setlist was included in the letter. Their passes to Hogsmeade were also included. Astoria handed them to her bewildered bandmates before the panicked chattering began. Doing anything live meant they couldn't erase their mistakes. Obviously, bands did live performances all the time, but they were usually older and more experienced, weren't they? As expected, Rhiannon demanded that they rehearse "nonstop" until the show. On her way to the dorm to start practising that evening, Astoria saw her sister at a table near the fireplace, sitting uncharacteristically alone.

"Hello, Daphne."

"Did you make your guestlist already? I think we should make ours together in one letter for Maman and Daddy's convenience," Daphne said, indicating that she had parchment ready for a letter on the table.

"No, I did not," Astoria said and took a seat, happy for an excuse to put off rehearsal.

"Here, write your list," Daphne said and pressed a perfectly manicured finger to an empty section of the letter.

Astoria borrowed Daphne's glittery quill and started writing.

Rhiannon Clarke; Flora, Hestia, and Mr Carrow; the Boisvert family; the Davis family…

Astoria paused. She could not think of anyone else who would want to attend, or anyone else who was close enough to her.

"Ought I invite some teachers?" she asked for her sister's opinion.

"That's fine. But I do know that Professor Vector is holidaying in Ireland… Actually, Heather is holidaying in Ireland, too… Oh! And Professor Babbling is going to Israel, I heard."

Professor Aurora Sinistra, Professor Filius Flitwick, Professor Severus Snape…

"Is it wrong to only invite three of them?" Astoria wondered. "I'd hate to have it feel like a parent-teacher conference."

"Then you might not have invited Professor Snape! I'm doing dreadfully in that class!"

"He's our Head of House, Daphne."

"Oh, very well… No, I don't suppose it is wrong to invite only a few. The invitation comes from Maman and Dad, after all. Is that all of your list, then?"

"Erm, yes, it is."

Daphne took the letter and gasped, "We can't have Tracey there without Max, silly! The Lazenbys have attended before, right? Oh, never mind, you wouldn't remember."

She wrote the Lazenby family first on her half of the list.

"I need to invite the Bulstrodes and the Parkinsons and—"

"The Parkinsons, Daphne…?"

"And who was that cute boy that was there two years ago…? Do you remember him? He was one of Daddy's friend's sons… Ah, yes, Anthony from Ravenclaw! I'm sure Daddy already has the Goldsteins on the guestlist, but just in case…"

Astoria wanted to spill ink on the letter and start again, omitting Daphne's invitation to the Parkinson family. She did not want to see Parkinson in school; she most definitely did not want to have Parkinson in her house! She did not want Parkinson to be eating her family's food and dancing on her family's floor…

"Should we invite the Malfoys?" Daphne whispered.

If Astoria thought that they ought to invite the Malfoys, she would have done so already.

"No, I don't think so. I cannot tell you how many times I've heard Father say he wishes they'd stop trying to be companionable… And you know the mixture of Draco, Parkinson, and Rhiannon is not good—"

"Well, Pansy will be livid at me otherwise. And why are you inviting Rhiannon anyway? Isn't she, erm… erm…?"

"She grew up in poverty, yes. What of it, Daphne? I don't know if you've forgotten this, but so did your dear Sally-Anne."

"But Sally-Anne was different! Rhiannon's got that foul language and that foul manner and she probably would be thrown into culture shock…" Daphne said scornfully.

"She's coming, Daphne, and she'll sit right next to me, and you can keep your foul attitude to yourself!" Astoria said, standing up.

Daphne screwed up her face defiantly, scribbled something onto their letter, and headed back to her dorm. Astoria hurried back to her own to compose a letter home insisting on Rhiannon's presence at the banquet since Daphne had probably crossed out Rhiannon's name on the invitation list.

"You're late and angry," Flora noticed when Astoria stumbled into practice.

"Oh, Daphne's invited Parkinson to the Christmas banquet!"

"Yick," Hestia grimaced. "Well, I guess she'll only be with Daphne, though."

"Plus, her parents and your parents will be there. I don't think she'll want to cause too much trouble," Rhiannon comforted.

"I guess," said Astoria, and the band began rehearsing.

Witch Weekly and the Daily Prophet had both announced Pariah's wireless performance on the upcoming Sunday, and Professor Sinistra wished the girls good luck at dinner on Friday. It meant a lot, considering that the woman shied away from conversation these days. Astoria kept telling herself that it was only a twenty-minute performance and that the advertisements would give her breaks in between songs. Rhiannon's constant assurances to her bandmates and Tracey and Max's well-wishing on Sunday afternoon helped more. The girls, armed with Impervius Charms, set off for Hogsmeade's WWN building in the dowsing rain that evening. They all crowded into the lift to go to the broadcasting station on the top floor.

"I bet you'll sound like the studio version, Astoria," Rhiannon said softly as Mr Davis opened the door.

"Things don't work that way, Rhi," Astoria responded pessimistically.

The girls were briefed on performing for the broadcast by their manager, Mr Mongaby. He led them into the studio and charmed their floating microphones. The lantern there would burn green flame whenever they were on air. Mongaby would be sitting next to the radio host, making motions through the glass window if the band did something he didn't like. He told them that speaking should be limited only to greeting, announcing which song they were playing, and answering questions posed by the host. He then took his seat, slicked back his greying hair, and looked impatiently at his showy gold wristwatch, waiting for the host.

A curvaceous woman in her thirties sauntered into the control room. She had fluffy black hair styled as though she had walked straight out of the 1980s, red lips, and dangly gold jewellery. Her complexion was a ghastly white-blue, and when she greeted Mr Mongaby with a smile, she bared excessively pointed teeth.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, man. My mother was a vampire, not me," she said convincingly, pushing open the door behind which the girls were awkwardly waiting with their instruments and microphones.

"I'm Glenda Chittock.. You must know my girl Aurora. She teaches at your school," the woman said chattily. "It's a pleasure to meet you all. I love playing your stuff over the wireless — irritates the old-school Slytherins."

The girls laughed nervously, but knowing that a friend of Professor Sinistra's would be sitting next to their grumpy manager relaxed them somewhat.

"So, I know Mr Mongaby has a list of songs that you're gonna play," she said, "And I'm afraid I'm gonna have to censor the word 'Mud' on 'Useless.' Sorry, Miss Clarke, I know you're just trying to get the point across to your rotten classmates. I was in Slytherin, too. 'Half-breed' they said — you know the story."

"That's all right, Madam," Rhiannon nodded.

"All right, girls, let's make some noise!" Ms Chittock said and took her seat.

She looked at the clock on the wall in the control room and waved her wand at a massive microphone, causing the lantern in the girls' room to glow green.

"Good evening, good evening all! The Witching Hour's just begun. I'm your host, Glenda Chittock, here at the Hogsmeade Wizarding Wireless Network station with none other than Pariah, our taste of ingenuity for the night! Hope you aren't doing your homework right now, Hogwarts, or you'll miss these lovely ladies in their first ever live performance. All right, girls, how are you tonight?"

"Marvellous," Flora said smoothly. "We're going to play 'The Pariah.'"

Rhiannon was all smiles at Flora, who usually was void of enthusiasm. She then winked at Astoria and prepared to start playing. Surprisingly, the end of the song came quite quickly, and the girls were announcing "Useless" before Astoria could wrap her mind around the fact that they were actually on air, being broadcasted to who knows who. In "Useless," Astoria had few vocals and a lot of piano, but the song was embedded into her fingers, and she allowed herself to relax.

"I have no more trick cards / I can't seem to win / What they see in me and you / Is sicker than the sin," Rhiannon sang.

No wonder Rhiannon had made such a face when Mr Mongaby informed them they would play this one. It sounded angry, but it was, in truth, very sad. In fact, the last time that Rhiannon had been actually eager to play this song was when the band was born. Rhi, Flora, and Hestia performed it after Draco had followed Astoria up to the music room.

"Fallen angel, risen killer," Astoria sang before Rhiannon finished the rest of the stanza with the strange lyrics, "The Earth couldn't catch you / The garden cannot quench you / And I cannot sleep through / Your nights in beds of lavender."

Why lavender? The lavender flower was said to have contrasting symbolism of either love and devotion or doubt and distrust. That certainly made sense for the song, but Astoria highly doubted that Rhiannon was acquainted with traditional floriography. Wasn't there a fifth-year Gryffindor girl named Lavender? Yes, there was: Lavender Brown. Astoria's family was good friends with her aunt and uncle, but Astoria did not know Lavender apart from the fact that she had upset Rhiannon in the Hog's Head one day. Astoria thought she might have seen Lavender through the window walking back from Care of Magical Creatures with Draco a couple of times, though. The band continued performing, and Astoria had to focus on her backing vocals as Rhiannon sang:–

"Tell me you love me

My only source of hope

Tell me I'm something

I'm hanging by a rope

"I have no more shooting stars

I can't take the pills

Your eyes have burnt me,

You have learnt me,

My heartbeat becomes still

No, no, I know it shows

I was wrong to think so"

Rhiannon had spoken about the song only once and said it was about unrequited love, but that much was obvious, and there were more clues to follow. Evidently, Rhiannon was dwelling on the fact that the addressed party in the song had high standards and was apparently oblivious that Rhiannon liked him. The song began its demanding crescendo, and whilst Astoria kept up with the song, she was also considering the lyrics in her head.

"My confession is beneath you,

You'll gasp, and you'll laugh

Then you'll turn your back

On me and my worthless dreams

My worthless everything

My worthless wallet, my worthless blood

My worthless body

My worthless love

My useless honesty, useless Mud

My useless body

My useless love"

It certainly did not sound that the person for whom this song was written deserved Rhiannon's affections if he were to meet them with derision. Furthermore, if he was making her feel that her lack of money, her body, and her status of a Muggle-born was something to avoid, it was no wonder why this painfully open song made Rhiannon uncomfortable. But she was so strong, and she was playing with all of her heart. Certainly she knew that she was better than this boy in the song.

"We'll be right back on the Witching Hour after a word from our sponsor!"

Astoria sat with her fingers resting atop her piano keys. The green flame in the lantern extinguished, and the other girls took refreshing drinks whilst Astoria got lost in thought. The song had made it all so obvious. The song explained so much. Astoria shut her eyes and breathed deeply. Rhiannon, for whatever reason, was attracted to Draco Malfoy.

Rhiannon was happy right now, but beneath that was a girl who was suffering in her heart, as if she had not suffered enough in life. One of Rhiannon's very first comments to Astoria had been that Draco was attractive but rotten inside… The comment had passed by Astoria on that exciting day in such a flash that it hardly seemed real. Rhiannon had once yelled at Draco during a spat, reminding him that he used to treat her nicely before he knew she was a government-dependent Muggle-born. How greatly that must have hurt her. Just recently, she had been so happy when they bonded over creating that rude song about that Gryffindor Keeper… Perhaps Rhiannon thought that things with Draco and Parkinson would not last, but that he would turn to Lavender Brown, another pure-blood, next. And yet, was there still false hope inside of Rhiannon that pulled her toward Draco Malfoy? Wasn't it a hopeless case? He would never treat her right! Astoria felt terrible as she announced the song "Sweet Nothings." …Was her hope about Philippe Boisvert useless as well?

Astoria was entirely unhappy with her performance. The fact that she hadn't taken a drink combined with her stress impacted her singing. She sounded weak all throughout; she could feel people being disappointed and shutting off their wirelesses. She tried to make up for it on "The Things Unsaid," and she felt like she at least did the song justice. It even lightened her gloomy mood, and when Ms Chittock started a small interview with the band, she felt quite happy indeed.

"So you girls started Pariah last year? What was it like trying to make a band when you're so young like that?"

Rhiannon said, "Well, we owe it to Professor Flitwick and the Davis and Greengrass families for helping us make everything solid. It's great to achieve your goals like this, y'know? So to do this at a young age, I guess, really makes it an even bigger achievement."

"I was reading Witch Weekly a while back, and there was an article that said you should try to be more like The Weird Sisters, who are on your same label. What do you say to that?"

"I say, The Weird Sisters are great, but what's the point of copying them? There's nothing original about that. It defeats the purpose of expressing your creativity," said Hestia.

"That would be like Transfiguring us into smaller Weird Sisters," Flora said.

"Well put! So I notice that your band is trying to convey a few important messages with your album Fed Lines. Tell me more about that."

"Er, yeah," said Astoria awkwardly, getting glances from her bandmates. "Erm, first of all, we want to convey a message to people our age, of our generation, that being different isn't wrong. I know that there are some people in the school—"

Mr Mongaby started shaking his head at Astoria, but she continued defiantly, "that have prejudices against Muggle-borns or people of mixed heritage, or basically against anyone that they think is less important than they are. These prejudices are unfounded and cause a lot of pain. Really, they just make you look ridiculous."

Ms Chittock and Rhiannon were watching Astoria quietly and admiringly, but she flushed red and let Rhiannon take over the interview.

"So we also wanna raise awareness about—"

Mr Mongaby started making "cut" motions with his hands, but Rhiannon pretended not to see him and said, "child abuse and neglect. I think that if more people are educated about it, then there's more people working together to find better ways to aid children in bad situations like that. Because, right now, what we have isn't good enough. We're calling for improvement; we want more support for kids in these situations. Right now, as a rock band full of fourth-years, we can't do much 'cept make a statement about it, so we're definitely gonna do that. We need to get to a point where kids don't have to be afraid to get help."

Ms Chittock looked deeply moved and said, "We most certainly do. I think what you're doing through the means of music is excellent. Keep it up, Pariah."

Mr Mongaby stared at Ms Chittock with consideration. Hopefully, her response would be a reason not to criticise the girls after the show.

"Now, do you girls have any shout-outs?" she asked.

"Oh gosh," said Rhiannon, "Yes, erm, Tracey, Montel, hope you're loving this! Thanks, Mr Davis, Professor Flitwick!"

"Thank you for encouraging us, Professor Sinistra and Max Lazenby!" Astoria said cheerily. "And thanks to Draco Malfoy and Curtis Evercreech for helping us at breakfast. Maman, Dad, Daphne, I love you. Thank you!"

"Dad, erm, if you're, well, by any chance listening, we love you very much," Flora said.

"A big thank you to Professor Lupin, too," Rhiannon said.

"And to Ms Chittock and Mr Mongaby, of course," Hestia grinned, and Mr Mongaby rolled his eyes.

"And cheers to anyone who has helped or encouraged us!" Rhiannon said.

"Great! All right, witches and wizards, Pariah is going to play one final song for us here."

"This one's called 'Ivy,'" Hestia announced with an evil grin.

"Dad, turn off your wireless," Flora grumbled.

"One, two, three, four…"

When the girls got back to the common room, they could not believe the scene. There were wirelesses floating everywhere (some students were even floating), and a great sound of applause. When Astoria noticed the absence of Blaise, Parkinson, and Diane Carter's group, she knew that Pariah was being welcomed back by good company. Suddenly, she was swept off her feet by Tracey and Montel Davis and placed onto a seat above which Max Lazenby was wand-writing PARIAH in shimmering green letters. Alexa Crover, Curtis Evercreech, and another Mahōtokoro transfer girl surrounded the twins and were congratulating them whilst Heather Thatcham gave the "rock on" sign to Rhiannon. Daphne hurried up to Astoria's seat and grabbed her hands.

"Astoria, you sounded lovely! You sounded even better live!"

"Thank you, Daphne."

"Thank you for mentioning me!"

"Of course. You're my sister."

A group of third-years looked to have cornered Rhiannon; meanwhile, Alexa, Curtis, and their new friend had gravitated to Astoria by pushing through the hoard of excited students.

"My friend wants your autograph!" Alexa Crover shouted.

"Er, er, certainly…" Astoria said.

The transfer student fumbled for a quill and ink bottle, and Astoria wished she could have conveyed to her that she wasn't actually famous. Her autograph wasn't worth anything.

"What is your name?" she asked the new girl.

"Ichijō Manami," the girl answered. "I'm Akiyama Chiyo's cousin. We transferred to here from Mahōtokoro. I liked your music!"

Astoria asked the girl how to spell her name, and as she was writing, she was reminded of the pair of Japanese girls who sat together in most of her classes. Chiyo Akiyama was the one who had unbecomingly joined Diane Carter's posse and consistently complained about Astoria in Charms class, whilst Manami clearly had more sense in choosing her friends. Astoria was reminded of her embarrassing cousin Asenath, and wondered if Manami was just as exasperated with Chiyo.

Manami thanked Astoria for the autograph, but Astoria awkwardly said, "Thanks for wanting it," before Manami and her friends went to play a game of Gobstones.

I should have written "Please tell your cousin to stop bullying me xoxo," Astoria thought.

"No, nothing's been recorded into the track backwards…" Astoria overheard Flora angrily saying to Max Manson. "No, there's no secret code, Max…!"

"But Tracey Nettlebed and I got to thinking…" Max Manson started.

"Tracey Nettlebed does not think," Hestia cut in.

"How d'you feel about all this?" Rhiannon said, leaning on Astoria's table.

"I'm — I'm glad!" Astoria exclaimed. "I guess we did well."

"You did spectacularly," Rhiannon said merrily.

"So did you! We all did. It was… it was actually fun."

Astoria saw that Draco was making his way toward them, but a preppy boy in their year named Horatio Pershore had cut in front of him and shot the girls each a charming smile.

"I have to say, I'm impressed with your work," he said to Rhiannon, smoothly adjusting a cuff link on his shirt. "Why don't you and I go to the Three Broomsticks next Hogsmeade trip? I'd like to know how you play a Muggle guitar with magic so well."

Well, this is awkward, Astoria thought, scooting down the table unnecessarily. She did hope that Rhiannon would accept. Horatio was very polite, made good marks, and did not bother with the crowd of people who had nothing better to do than bully others. He would be good for her. But Rhiannon had not so much as blushed at Horatio's compliments.

"Well, thank you, but… I'm sorry, Horatio. The last thing I would want to do is upset Manami. Yes… I think she'd be very happy to go," Rhiannon said, nodding smoothly and knowingly.

Horatio furrowed his brow and looked toward Manami, who had stopped playing Gobstones for a moment to look at him. She smiled and looked away.

"Oh, er," Horatio said, disappointed and newly interested at the same time. "Er, all right, er, see you."

It was very awkward. Though disappointed, Astoria giggled as Horatio started making rounds near Manami's group to see if she would look at him. She most certainly did, and Rhiannon grew a smug look. Teenage boys were so wishy-washy. Rhiannon tilted her head with more attitude toward Draco, who was closing in.

"How famous we are," Draco drawled. "Even Clarke is magnetising unsuspecting victims."

"Well, you gravitated over here pretty magnetically, you did," Rhiannon challenged.

"Shut it, Clarke. I merely wanted to ask Astoria why she thanked me about breakfast. What did I do at breakfast?"

"You threw that nasty magazine issue into Nettlebed's oatmeal a while ago," Astoria answered. "I thought it was a nice thing to do."

"Yes, throwing things into people's food is a nice thing to do in your book," Draco said.

"You know what I mean."

Draco nodded with a face as equally smug as Rhiannon's.

"Well, good job tonight, Greengrass," he said and walked away.

"Really, Draco? Interview and all?" Astoria barked. He must have heard her speak about all those prejudices he had. She wanted to know what he thought about it, why he was still imposing himself into a conversation with her. Draco ignored her and left for his dormitory.

"He's such a git," Astoria said.

"I know," Rhiannon agreed.

Astoria wanted more than anything to know how it was possible for Rhiannon to like him.

"I don't know how Parkinson could date him," she brought up.

"No idea," Rhiannon laughed. "Probably the money, eh?"

Money…? Astoria was speechless. Did Rhiannon like Draco only because he was attractive and had money? That, actually, would be unfair to him…

Astoria's thoughts mangled themselves into wondering if Rhiannon wanted to be friends because of her money again. It was so daunting to doubt everybody's honesty when they were nice to her, but it was human nature to try to obtain. Who truly liked her for her and not her money? Rhiannon had always been an honest friend, but perhaps she was different when it came to fancying people. Perhaps she could be an honest friend but not an honest girlfriend; perhaps she wanted a man with money. That was disreputable. That simply could not be the case.

"That's so distasteful," Astoria tested, "to only like somebody for their money."

"You said it," Rhiannon agreed. "Rubs me the wrong way when people dream about marrying rich, and it's like they got no real love for them. I mean, if the person you love happens to be rich, that's different, but to purposely seek out some rich kid is kinda like cheating yourself of having a true love, y'know?"

"Exactly," Astoria said.

She was relieved to know that Rhiannon did not like Draco for his money, but the subject of Rhiannon even liking him at all was still nagging her. Astoria could see how somebody else might fancy Draco; he was funny, charming, intelligent, just smooth enough to be appealingly flirtatious, and just awkward enough to be endearing… But he was never those things near Rhiannon. Rhiannon always saw the side of Draco that was prejudiced, complaining, conceited, and immature. Maybe she was faultily hoping to change him, or maybe she had already accepted that it would not work… Astoria felt so sorry for Rhiannon.

Later that night, Flora and Hestia were in a quiet but heated argument about who all might have heard their broadcast, though they went dead silent after Astoria and Rhiannon stepped into the dormitory. Unlike the twins, who grumpily went to sleep, Rhiannon and Astoria stayed up excitedly discussing details of the performance. They were in the midst of discussing "Useless," the song that had clarified almost everything…

"Rhi?" Astoria said instead of replying to Rhiannon's comment about Flora's missed beats.

"Yeah?"

"Erm, if there is anything, anything at all, that you need to tell me… or if there is anything bothering you…"

Rhiannon's eyes widened in the dim light and she bit her lip.

"Don't be afraid to say it, okay?"

"Erm, well," Rhiannon said, sitting up slowly. "Erm…"

She looked downward at Astoria, who was too tired to sit up. Astoria knew there were not many ways to explain the problem Rhiannon had, and she waited patiently whilst Rhiannon grew red and frenetically messed with her blankets.

"There is one thing that's been, erm…"

The candlelight danced wildly in Rhiannon's dark eyes as she tried to let her words escape. They did not. Rhiannon slumped back onto her bed with a groan and pulled her covers up to her nose embarrassedly.

"Well, I don't know how to dance at a ball, see… And I'm going to your ball at Christmas, and I don't want to look stupid…"

A cover-up.

"Oh, I have full intentions of teaching you all you need to know about the celebration," Astoria assured Rhiannon, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"Yeah?"

Rhiannon's eyes showed her smile, though her mouth was covered.

"Yes, I'll teach you all about the etiquette, and the table setup…"

"And the dancing?"

"Yes, I can teach you ballroom dancing in the Astronomy library."

"Yeah? That's great," Rhiannon giggled. "Thank you, Astoria."

"Certainly."

The candles were extinguished, and Astoria sighed when Rhiannon fell asleep and took her secrets with her.

The next afternoon, Astoria and Rhiannon were leaving the common room to begin their lengthy journey to the Astronomy library. Astoria had her Astronomy supplies with her for convenience; she did not plan on returning to the dungeons.

"Hey, are you two going to practise?" Hestia asked, running into them in the dungeon corridor.

"Yeah, ballroom dancing," Rhiannon said animatedly.

"Ballroo— What?"

"For the Christmas thing at Astoria's place."

"Do you need to know any dances, Hestia?" Astoria offered.

"No. I don't. Thanks," Hestia said, and she moved Rhiannon out of the way to get to the entrance to the common room.

"So, er, what dances do I have to learn?" Rhiannon asked curiously as they walked.

"Well, we always have the Slow Waltz, the Viennese Waltz, and several quicksteps… by the end we usually have fun with freestyle."

"I have no idea what any of that means."

"That's okay! I'll teach you."

Rhiannon turned out to be a most awkward dancer. Astoria was reminded of Professor Moody trying to dance with Professor Sinistra at the Yule Ball. Rhiannon was following the movements and the instructions, but was doing so in such a clumsy fashion that it defeated the progress. However, Astoria would not give up. Rhiannon was going to be proud and confident at that ball no matter what.

"No, don't copy what I'm doing," Astoria kept saying. "I'm leading, remember?"

"Sorry, sorry, it's hard to remember how my moves're different."

Astoria was so exhausted by the "dancing" that she did not even want to climb the mere two flights of stairs to get to class at eight o'clock.

"I could Charm you up the stairs," Rhiannon offered comically.

"Oh, it's tempting," Astoria sighed, but she hobbled into the Astronomy classroom and fell into her seat.

"What happened to you?" Draco asked.

"I was dancing," Astoria admitted.

Bemused, Draco asked, "Dancing? Why?"

"Well, it's not for a concert if that's what you're going to ask me."

"Oh, Astoria?" Professor Sinistra suddenly looked up from her desk and grabbed the air as if snatching up a thought. "I was able to hear part of your performance on the Witching Hour. You're a splendid pianist."

"Thank you very much, Professor," Astoria said happily. "I didn't know that your friend is the one who hosts the Witching Hour. She was nicer to us than our own manager was."

"Yes, she's a sweet person. My sympathies about your manager."

"Thank you, Professor."

"So," Draco said after they had finished their worksheet about Neptune. "Why were you dancing of all things?"

"I like to dance," Astoria said simply. If she told him she had to teach Rhiannon ballroom dancing, he would go to great lengths to insult Rhiannon for not being cultured enough to know how to waltz.

"Do the Greengrasses disown everyone who doesn't like dancing?" Draco asked.

Astoria laughed. Draco must have had knowledge of their family's elaborate, traditional dance which they performed on every Vernal Equinox. The dance, "Quennell's Waltz," was notoriously complex. It served as an illustrative rite of passage for couples entering marriage. It had different moves for every couple, and a different move set for single individuals and guests in the "slow lane." It was through the rumours of the "slow lane" dancers that "Quennell's Waltz" had become something of a cultural legend. Astoria wondered if Draco's mother had seen the dance back when her parents were better acquainted with her.

"You do disown people who won't dance, don't you?" joked Draco.

"Of course not, silly," Astoria said. "We simply brainwash them."

Draco cracked up and disturbed Daphne and Heather, who were still suffering over their worksheet.

By Saturday, Rhiannon had greatly improved with the Slow Waltz, so when she asked Astoria if she would like to write some songs with her, Astoria did not refuse. She knew that they must have been writing for a couple of hours, for her legs were getting sore from sitting in the same position.

"So how many people come to your Christmas thing?" Rhiannon asked after scratching out a few lines of melody in her notebook.

"It's always at least forty, since both sides of the family are there," Astoria said. "We tend to invite one-hundred guests and extended family. Dad says any more would make it too impersonal."

"Isn't it already?" Rhiannon pondered. "How long is it?"

"Guests arrive at six in the evening, and the banquet is five courses spread over two hours. The dance begins at eight-fifteen and typically ends at midnight."

"So it's five an'a half hours with a hundred-fifty people?" Rhiannon said with a hint of opposition in her voice.

"It never feels like that," asserted Astoria. "Guests may leave after the banquet in good etiquette. The younger children tend to fall asleep in the lower east wing's bedrooms at about nine-thirty. So, it isn't always full of people."

"Yeah, yeah, that's another thing, etiquette. I mean, you might not've noticed this, Astoria, but I'm not exactly cut from the finest stone."

"Would you have me prioritise teaching you dancing or etiquette?"

"Erm, both? I don't know, maybe I need an instruction book or something on how to act posh… Who am I going to be sitting with during this… this five-course meal?"

"With my parents and me, of course!" Astoria said. "I'm afraid I don't know who else will be at our table besides Daphne, since my parents make the seating arrangements. I also don't know how many people will be at a table, but it's usually about ten to twelve."

"And who'm I gonna have to dance with?"

"Why, you don't have to dance with anybody," Astoria said amusedly. "Some attendees choose not to dance, and no one dances during every song. Some people enjoy the game room, too, so you are welcome to go there if you don't wish to dance."

"Oh… okay."

"Come on, we should practise dancing more so you won't be uncomfortable. We can also work on looking posh so you'll feel more confident," Astoria giggled.

In the common room, the girls were accosted by Draco, who had put a game of chess with Theodore Nott on hold. Theodore, however, had already found an excellent move to put Draco in check and leaned back in his chair, contentedly folding his hands. He simply waited for Draco's attention to make him upset.

"Thanks for the invitation, Greengrass," said Draco haughtily.

"The invitation?"

Oh no, Astoria thought. Daphne did want to invite the Malfoys to the Christmas banquet due to Parkinson, didn't she? That frantic scribbling on the paper after the sisters' spat… it must have been an invitation for Draco and his parents. It was too late; the deed had been done. Astoria couldn't be rude and tell him that she had not invited him. Her only hope was that Draco could not attend. She didn't want him to get weird with Parkinson in her house.

"Oh! Yes, right, the banquet," Astoria said, pretending to be full of recollection. "You're welcome."

"Yes, my father sent me a letter this morning informing me that we were going to attend your banquet. It's white tie, isn't it? That's fine with me. You know, all these years, it's really surprised my father that we had never been invited to any of your parties before. After all, our fathers worked in the Ministry together for such a long time, and my mother knew your parents. I suppose your father finally remembered we exist, then? I can't imagine how he would have forgotten us… Hm, that will all be behind us, I'm sure. I finally get to see if my house is bigger than yours, don't I?"

Draco was speaking in such a proudly patrician manner that Astoria nearly gagged. This ball was bound to bring out the worst in his arrogance.

"Oooh… I'm afraid, Draco, that my house is bigger than yours. Don't take it too harshly," she said, and she led Rhiannon out of the room.

Before Rhiannon could make any comment about Draco's presence at the banquet, Astoria reported that Daphne was responsible for the Malfoys' invitation and that Draco had only assumed it was Astoria. Rhiannon looked relieved as Astoria continued to vent.

"When Draco thanked me for the invitation, I hoped his family had declined. Truly, I'm surprised that they didn't. Those people have always scorned 'blood-traitors.' My father never spoke with Mr Malfoy outside of work, and my parents have not been friendly with Mrs Malfoy for a long time. Why the Malfoys are so willing to show their faces at a blood-traitors' banquet is beyond me."

"They probably want to look good, like," Rhiannon pondered. "You know, go to rich people things 'cos they're rich. Or maybe they don't get invited to too many things because of their attitudes."

"They do get invited to things, but you're right. They probably want to make themselves look respectable."

"Hope they aren't expecting kindred spirits at your party, eh?"

"They would be very unwise to do so. My Uncle Salomon and cousin Renshaw are both Squibs, and they're not the only ones in the family. Supremacists are the ones who are not welcome, but Daphne ignored that rule now that we were allowed to choose some people to invite."

"Does Malfoy know I'm gonna be there?"

The sunlight sifting in through the windows of the Great Hall was harsh on one's dungeon-acquainted eyes. Astoria squinted and drew in a long breath. Did Rhiannon want Draco to be there? Perhaps to see her dressed up? Perhaps to see all of the things that Astoria taught her?

"He would be a fool not to know," Astoria said.

"He's a fool anyway," Rhiannon noted.

By the time the girls reached the Astronomy library, it had become cloudy. Astoria peered out of a window. The Forbidden Forest looked like a tidal wave of shadows that stopped short of engulfing Professor Hagrid's hut, from where puffy, grey smoke emerged from the chimney and blended perfectly with the sky. If Professor Sinistra was there, she might have performed an Atmospheric Charm to bring back the pretty afternoon sunlight, but there had been several times when she had let wild storms crash over the castle. Astoria cautiously lit the torches in the library and glanced at Rhiannon, who was slouching against a bookcase and scratching food crumbs off the corners of her lips. When she noticed Astoria, she flipped her arm down to her side and smiled weakly before lowering her head and pretending to cough.

"Ready, Rhi?"

Astoria watched as Rhiannon gauchely dodged the circular tables by the window and drooped in the space in front of her.

"When you are in a formal situation, you should move gently. When you walk or make other gestures, do not do so hurriedly, nor overly enthusiastically. Approach people in a relaxed manner," Astoria instructed.

"Oh — sorry," Rhiannon said, shaking her head at the floor.

"Basically, move in slow motion in all that you do," Astoria chuckled. "Though I prefer the term calm to slow motion."

"Right, yeah, calm," Rhiannon said, glancing quickly upward before returning to gazing at her trainers.

Astoria brought a finger beneath her own chin and said light-heartedly, "Hold your head up so you can see me, Rhi."

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Rhiannon said, looking quite terrified as her eyes fell on Astoria's neck.

"Higher, now."

Rhiannon put her nose in the air.

"Not so high that your eyes must be lowered to make eye contact, Rhi."

"Er, sorry!"

"Don't apologise; you're learning. Here… I know it's odd to go through this stuff."

Astoria took the liberty to adjust Rhiannon's head herself by cupping her palms on the girl's warm ears and moving her head down as though tilting a model of a planet. Rhiannon made a funny face and did not budge after Astoria had made the alteration.

"Try not to be so rigid, either," Astoria said. "There is no precise position in which to hold your head. Simply be sure that you are neither looking at the floor nor above people's heads. As I am shorter than you, lowering your head slightly would be perfectly fine. Just don't do it disrespectfully. Straighten your back, too. Don't slouch no matter how lovely a feeling it is to slouch."

"Right, right."

"That also means you must carry your weight with your feet instead of your hips or your slumped leg. Hmm… oh, one last thing. Do you notice how your shoulders are rolled forward as though you are sitting over homework? Don't do that; keep them at your sides so that your arms are positioned neatly, too."

Rhiannon moved back her shoulders, but they rolled forward again. It was then that Astoria felt she was being too strict for someone who had never been taught about posture in her life. She just knew that Rhiannon really didn't want to stand out.

"Erm, remember to stand up straight, and your shoulders will straighten out as well."

"Oops."

"Very good!" Astoria praised. "Try to stay that way whilst walking."

"Err… this feels like a workout already," Rhiannon said jadedly.

"Let's see you walk round these tables. Keep your hands to yourself. Don't swing them dramatically, but don't walk rigidly. Everyone will be impressed."

Rhiannon combined her usual gait with the standing position in such a way that it probably would have been better if she walked as she normally did. Astoria, who did not want to act like an old nanny and prod Rhiannon in the back and chin until she walked neatly, stood in the pale grey light of the window discouragedly.

"Keep constant posture, Rhiannon. Walk slower, and you will not need to slink round those curves. Come back through the other way."

Again, no luck.

"Come now, Rhiannon… Walk… walk like a rich little prat!"

This language worked supernaturally on Rhiannon, and she was indistinguishable from rich little prats in no time. Then they worked on dancing more. As the two made their way to the Great Hall for dinner, Astoria was giving Rhiannon rules regarding table manners.

"Do not stab your food. Do not make noise when you eat. Of course, you are forgiven if the food naturally makes noise when being chewed…"

"Of course."

"Cut your food into small enough bites so that you can fit it comfortably into your mouth. If you place too much food in your mouth, you'll suffer through it. And always, always, always bring your food to your mouth and not your mouth to your food. So, go ahead and try that."

"I can't wait until the banquet's over," Rhiannon said, laughing.

But over the next week, Rhiannon had determinedly become so much more poised, at least when walking and eating, that Hestia was begging to have her old Rhiannon back.

"It's only temporary, Hestia," Rhiannon assured. "I look like Malfoy doing this."

---

The snow fell heavily on the first day of December. Overhead, the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall was white with magical flakes that all disappeared before they could reach the floating candles which cast away the silvery shades of the outside with their warm, golden glow. Many students had worn their scarves to breakfast; Curtis Evercreech's scarf fell into his porridge as it slipped away from his neck. When the four girls each got a letter, they knew that their November cheques had come. The twins gasped in unison, and Rhiannon had actually started to cry. They had each earned three-thousand Galleons. Flora continued to stare at her letter in astonishment, and Rhiannon was utterly beside herself.

"I can buy everyone Christmas presents… I can actually buy people gifts for Christmas!" Rhiannon blubbered joyfully. "Oh, my God, I'm rich. I'm rich."

"Rich in fat?"

Parkinson was hovering over Rhiannon and Astoria, blinking ponderingly at the letter Rhiannon had placed on the table. Parkinson liked the effect of having grown her hair out over the summer; she flipped it backwards with clichéd flamboyance.

"Piss off, Parkinson!" Hestia said loud enough to shock a pair of first-years.

"I don't take mouth from a half-witted clone, Carrow girl," Parkinson said quickly. "All I'm wondering is when Astoria's parents are gonna stop paying you fake cheques."

"Don't say another word, Parkinson," Astoria said, standing from her seat and reaching a height only to Parkinson's eyebrows. Parkinson stepped forward, threateningly tapping her pocket for her wand.

"Aw, little baby makes a bold move to defend her playmates! Why you aren't in Hufflepuff is still beyond me, Greengra—"

"This is why! Calvorio!"

Parkinson jumped back as a pale red light hit her at the neckline. After examining her arms and legs and feeling her face, she threw the biggest scoff she could muster at Astoria, disgustingly hitting her on the forehead with spit.

"You're absolutely pathetic. Try taking first-year Charms again, brat."

Parkinson noticed Professor Snape approaching and shifted her eyes to the Entrance Hall. Astoria stood in place, nervous and unsure of what to do. She felt that the curse had worked, but perhaps it really was time to get a new wand… It would make Chiyo Akiyama and Diane Carter have less to say in Charms.

Parkinson whisked her hair over her shoulders as she turned to escape Professor Snape. Her hair certainly went over her shoulders… it left her head and spread in the air, falling in streams to the floor. Parkinson screeched and flipped round again to stare at her hair, and Astoria could see that her eyebrows had fallen out. When Professor Snape arrived at their end of the table, Parkinson's eyes were watering as her lashes started dropping from her eyes, dark brown hairs fell from her nose, and short, wispy hairs were shooting out of her ears. Astoria backed into the table, actually with more intent to avoid the flying hair than to avoid Professor Snape, whose face was screwed up tighter than crumpled parchment. Spectators had gathered to witness the scene, undoubtedly several of them grateful to Astoria. At the same time, though, they wanted to hear her punishment. Professor Snape had covered the wailing Parkinson's hairless head with the sleeve of his robe and used his other arm to summon Madam Pomfrey, who escorted Parkinson to the Hospital Wing. Rhiannon stood up in time to support Astoria with an arm round her shoulders as Professor Snape turned menacingly to face them.

"What… on Earth… were you thinking, Greengrass?" Professor Snape said acidly.

"You should thank her for getting rid of that moustache, Pansy!" Astoria heard Alexa Crover call. Her comment was met with a wave of laughter that did not reach Astoria, who was trying to clear her throat.

"Erm, Park— Pansy had, had come over to us here and, well, she called Rhiannon fat, and then she said that Flora and Hestia were a pair of, erm, dumb clones, essentially, and then she insulted my family, and then made comments about Rhiannon's money. And I told her— told her not to speak to my friends that way, but she mocked me because I'm younger than her and reached her hand to her wand, and I'm sorry, it happened whilst I was too angry and frightened to think, and—"

"Pansy did reach for her wand. I saw her, Professor," Montel inserted, trying to help.

"Stay out of this, Mr Davis," said Professor Snape seriously. "Miss Clarke, unless you wish to follow your friend to my office, I suggest you let go of her now. Miss Greengrass, to the dungeons with me at once."

"Professor Snape! Professor Snape!"

Umbridge was tip-toe-running to the end of the Slytherin table, and Astoria felt ill.

"What seems to be the problem here?" she said in a house-elf's voice.

Her giant eyes popped out of her head at Astoria and Rhiannon, who had not left Astoria's side. Astoria took notice as Professor Snape's expression changed from fitting a situation that could involve a student's hair never growing back to one fitting a situation that involved nothing more than spilt pumpkin juice.

"There is no problem which I cannot handle, Professor," Professor Snape said calmly. He turned his head slightly, saying "To the dungeons, please."

Astoria followed Professor Snape after having one last glace at the nail-biting twins. She was grateful to still have Rhiannon there with her, but she feared that Rhiannon would be dragged into the mess. The encompassing light from the Great Hall vanished, and cold air swept up from the basement as the girls stepped down. The usually pleasant scent of breakfast foods wafted about, but Astoria's stomach curdled, and she could not bear to think of food. They were in the dungeons far too soon, she thought; a flight of stairs had surely shrunk as though it was taking Professor Snape's side… Within a few turns, they were in the professor's dark, crowded office, being bothered by a pair of magical rickety chairs continually smacking against the backs of their legs before making the girls sit in them. Professor Snape took several moments, on purpose, to look through a small agenda, hoping to increase the pair's trepidation.

"It seems," he said, then paused for another agonizing minute.

Rhiannon had placed her elbows on her knees and her hands under her chin; the tortuous waiting evidently did not work on her any longer, and she looked bored.

"It seems that my time to give you detention is already full…"

Astoria prayed that she would not be sent off to Umbridge. Surely Professor Snape would not send her off to Umbridge… The woman was sadistic enough in class…

"The responsibility then falls to prefects. Now let's see who amongst my prefects is not overseeing detentions of their own…"

Professor Snape pretended to read something in his agenda, but Astoria already knew. It was going to be as bad as Umbridge. Astoria had cursed Parkinson, Parkinson was a prefect, and Parkinson would be the executioner.

"I think Mr Malfoy would be eager to do the job, after what you did to such a close friend of his," Professor Snape said devilishly.

Mr Malfoy? Draco Malfoy? Astoria tried to look shattered, and she succeeded. Of course, Draco would make Astoria pay for what she did to his girlfriend, but he would not have her cut her own hair at wandpoint.

"Yes, that will do perfectly. Miss Clarke, as you did nothing, you do not have detention. However, since you were foolish enough to let Miss Greengrass drag you down here with her, you can help her set up for my first-year class next. I need sixty-four cauldrons each set up with a container of flobberworm mucus, sopophorous beans, peppermint, and chopped slugs. You still have thirty minutes of the breakfast hour. Work diligently. Go."

Astoria and Rhiannon rushed to situate the cauldrons on the desks in the potions classroom. The next part would not have been a problem if Astoria could find the box of thick, elbow-length, disposable gloves which she always used in class. It was that box of gloves that made the difference between her high A mark in Potions and her low D mark in Herbology, where the garden gloves were only wrist-length and needed to be hand-washed at the students' discretion. It was not so much contamination from the objects that bothered her, for she could always clean her hands, but the feeling of anything slimy or grimy made her sick. She would have used her wand for unpleasant tasks more often if the teachers allowed it. Rhiannon knew this, and, like the heroine she was, offered to deal with the mucus and slugs whilst Astoria got the beans and peppermint. After washing up, Rhiannon was keen to finish the piece of fried bread which she had stuffed into her robe pocket, but Astoria definitely had no appetite after seeing the slug parts.

"Thank you so much for coming with me," Astoria said as they walked out of the dungeons.

"I wasn't gonna let you go through that alone. Snape hardly takes House points from us, but when he yells, it's something nasty. And now, you poor thing, you're stuck with Malfoy."

"I know! I've never had detention before. I don't know how I'm going to find time to go to detention, do my homework, and teach you to dance…"

"Hey, I know the Slow Waltz and one of those quickstep things, right? I'm probably not gonna be doing much dancing at the ball anyway. Worry about your homework."

"How do you mean you aren't going to dance‽" Astoria exclaimed. "You've improved so much! Believe me, if you can do the Slow Waltz, you can do the Viennese. All you need to know is to follow the leader to the centre for fleckerls and know another pivot—"

"Yeah, that's grand and all, but I think I'll just dance a couple of times, maybe. Providin' someone asks me, of course."

"Of course someone will ask you! You're a lovely young woman, Rhi — I have these painfully single cousins—"

"If you're talking about Zéphir, I wouldn't say he's in much pain," Rhiannon coughed.

"No, no, my cousins Orphée and Séraphin… And there will be many other boys our age there who will be dying to ask you to dance—"

"Huh, well I won't be dying to dance with them."

Astoria grimaced. Was Rhiannon really going to sulk about Draco on Christmas Eve? Astoria had had enough of this. It was time for Rhiannon to admit it and let it go. Astoria had not taught Rhiannon that painstaking Slow Waltz so she could sit at a table in the banquet hall and wish Draco would ask her to dance.

"And what if Draco asks you?" Astoria pressed, stopping Rhiannon from entering the history classroom.

"Ha! Draco? Good thing he won't. I'd have to cram mistletoe down his throat!"

Right.

Draco was very displeased when Astoria saw him that afternoon for detention. He must have spent ten minutes of the hour criticising Astoria about what she did to Poor Pansy…

"Poor Pansy is sitting in all of her classes with a head scarf and drawn-on eyebrows because of what you did to her;" "Poor Pansy has to put this pongy stuff on her head twice a day;" "Poor Pansy was just upset because she found out today that she can't go to your ball… How could you?"

But Astoria was trying not to smile during Draco's tirade. Parkinson with fake eyebrows? No Parkinson at the banquet? Had Astoria died and gone to Heaven? No; it was more like purgatory, for Draco made her write lines about how great Parkinson was… Still, Christmas was looking bright.

Over the next few days, though, things went downhill. Hestia and Flora told her that they were not allowed to attend the banquet after reading a letter from their aunt and uncle. Hestia took the news particularly roughly. She began to act unreasonably, as though it was Astoria's fault. Astoria could hardly speak with Hestia without her becoming snippy. Flora, on the other hand, was merely sad. It was as if the twins had switched personalities.

By the time the end of term was imminent, Astoria felt like cramming mistletoe down Draco's throat herself. She had spent the month doing work for various teachers under his supervision (at least, until Parkinson arrived to snog him). He had introduced his cause to all of the teachers with "Miss Greengrass here is in detention for using that awful Hair Loss Curse on Pansy Parkinson… I wanted to make the most of it by having her help out our staff…"

While Umbridge's instructions to check each page of all of the first-years' books for vandalism was terrible, Professor Sprout's wish to have the different bags of various dung sorted was the absolute worst. Draco would not even let Astoria help the sickly Professor Sinistra with anything, for he deemed that it would be "too fun" for her to do anything astronomy-related. To have teachers that she was not even familiar with only know her as the Greengrass girl who got detention was miserable. Yet it was a blessing that Professors Babbling and Flitwick started leaving tremendously easy tasks for Astoria ever since Parkinson's beaver-coloured hair had grown back; they were aware of Astoria's true character. Even Professor Snape remembered to put the big box of gloves right where Astoria needed them.

On the eighteenth of December, two days until the end of term, Draco told Astoria that he was going to have her write lines. She sat embarrassedly in the middle of the common room, as he had said to do, with her quill and paper ready and a vicious glare on her face.

"I want you to write… 'Happy Christmas'… one time," he grinned teasingly.

As it turned out, prefects were in charge of decorating the Great Hall for the holidays. Astoria had never known this, for they always did so right before breakfast. For Christmas, however, they decorated a few days ahead of time so they could put up nice trees. Draco left Astoria in charge of decorating all of the trees on the wall near the Slytherin table whist he, the only prefect not decorating, sat lazily and said things such as "Don't let your wand crack any ornaments when you're angry," "Don't let your wand drop any ornaments because you aren't paying attention," or "My scarf is not garland, Astoria. Give it back…"

Rhiannon and Astoria had made a habit of staying up late to complain to each other, but on the last day of term, they couldn't find anything wrong except that Ginny Weasley was missing from Potions. She couldn't see Professor Snape's shocked face when Manami Ichijō had merrily presented him with a plate of gingerbread men that she and Alexa Crover had baked.

Since Astoria, Rhiannon, Flora, and Hestia were all leaving Hogwarts for Christmas, they planned to send each other their gifts with owls. This way, Rhiannon said, no one would have to see each other's disappointed faces. However, she was definitely the most thrilled person of the group and was lively and jittery for the entire ride back to London on the Hogwarts Express.

Astoria's mother greeted Rhiannon warmly and then began fussing over her daughters, asking them how they were managing with Umbridge and how long it would take for their progress reports to be sent home. Astoria did not like discussing her marks, though, and actually tried to keep the conversation on Umbridge. Her parents expected her marks to be tremendously better than Daphne's because Astoria was the daughter with common sense, but Astoria only had three A's out of her nine courses. She always wondered if she would be doing better if she was in her third year, but the real problem was that others were wondering about that as well. It never helped that her father was a Ravenclaw; she always thought she disappointed him.

The coldness of December vanished when the ladies arrived in the drawing room of Quennell Park. Once they stepped out of the fireplace, Astoria's mother lit a fire that warmed Astoria's toes and made her earmuffs unnecessary.

"The Mistress's girls are home!" squealed Dimsie the house-elf, running all over and hugging everyone's legs. "Would you like hot chocolate? Dimsie will get you hot chocolate!"

"Welcome home!" the family's smaller house-elf, Prissy, said. "Welcome, guest! What shall Prissy do for the guest?"

Astoria's mother smiled and rubbed Prissy's ears. "Prissy shall bring my husband to the drawing room and send these girls' bags to their rooms, please."

It felt so good to be home. The ladies removed their shoes and warmed their feet by the fire. Astoria's father entered, carrying Prissy on his shoulders. He let the house-elf back down and gave his daughters huge hugs.

"Home at last," he said. "Last year we had neither of our girls, and this year, we have gained a girl."

Rhiannon was unmistakably utilising Astoria's teachings on poise. Rather than embarrassedly looking down and saying "Hi," she bowed her head slightly and said, "Hello, Mr Greengrass. How are you?"

"Excellent, Miss Clarke! Ah, here is your hot chocolate."

"Master is awake!" Dimsie said. "Oh, Dimsie shall have another hot chocolate ready on the double!"

"No thank you, Dimsie. That would put me right back to sleep," Astoria's father said. "Prissy is in the kitchens now preparing breakfast. Please help her. Make yourselves some hot chocolate whilst you're in there."

"Of course!" said Dimsie. "Hot chocolate is my favourite time of year!"

"How are my girls?" Mr Greengrass asked, sitting next to Mrs Ciel-Greengrass by the fireplace. "How terrible is the High Inquisitor?"

"Quite terrible, Daddy," Daphne sighed. "I can still hear her squeaky little voice ringing in my ears, saying, 'Miss Greengrass, eyes on the book…'"

"That deplorable book!" exclaimed their mother.

"She's a… well, a despot. We're glad to be home," said Astoria.

"Yes, now that you are home, we can decorate the tree in here. See, we have left it bare so that we may all decorate it together. Let us decorate it after breakfast, no?" their mother said.

Astoria could not believe how delighted Rhiannon was to help decorate the tree. Her face looked as though Christmas had already come, and Astoria was left wondering if Rhiannon had ever decorated a Christmas tree before. Rhiannon had had a tour of the mansion in August, but she expressed her desire to see it all again now that it was decorated. Astoria took this opportunity to show Rhiannon where her guest room was and to show her what waltzing in the actual ballroom was like. Rhiannon had never danced so easily before. She swept Astoria into a quickstep.

The glass on Astoria's balcony doors fogged up when she peered outside that night. The whole estate was snow-covered, but it must have been magical snow conjured by her parents; she had not seen snow fall for some days, and the sky above was clear. She spotted some of her favourite constellations before slipping under her fluffy blankets. The next day, her family would be going shopping in Diagon Alley. It would only be the second time that Rhiannon could spend her own money there.

Diagon Alley was crowded, though not as crowded as it had been right before school began. Witches and wizards everywhere were scurrying about, trying to shop for Christmas at the last minute. Astoria saw that she had a gift list about half the size of Rhiannon's and asked her for whom she was shopping. Rhiannon read her list aloud; she was getting a gift for her Muggle friend, P.R., and for all of her teachers, even Professor Trelawney, to whom she was indifferent. Umbridge, however, was not on the list.

"I'll even get something for Snape," Rhiannon said, "but not Umbridge."

"He'll probably throw up at how cheesy you are," Astoria whispered.

"Well, if I get him a nice, new cauldron, it'll catch the vomit! Hey, did you notice if I'm forgetting anybody I don't hate on this list?"

"Hm… what about Professor Moody?" Astoria brought up. "You two warmed up to each other by the end of the year."

Rhiannon gave a rather ironic laugh.

"I haven't the faintest idea of what he'd want."

"Very well, then. I believe your list is ready."

Astoria looked back to her own list. It would look bad if the formerly grant-dependent Rhiannon bought all of the teachers gifts and a Greengrass did not. As she was awful at thinking of gift ideas, she said that they should split the money on the ones for teachers that they both had and write both of their names on the packages. Thankfully, Rhiannon agreed to this proposition. It saved Astoria some thinking, and it saved Rhiannon some money.

"Oh, look who's here!" Daphne said cheerfully.

The Lazenby clan was passing by the café in front of which the Greengrass party stood. Max was not joking when he spoke of how hectic the holidays were for them. He had three of his siblings trailing after him. Mr Lazenby was carrying his fifth and youngest child, who could not have been older than three. Max waved at Daphne and Astoria, making a chain reaction in which all of the six other Lazenbys waved. As Astoria's and Max's parents were chatting about the upcoming banquet, Astoria heard Daphne say, "What do you mean you've no idea what to get for Tracey? There are over fifty shops here! Here, let me come with you and we'll pick out a nice necklace for her…"

"Tracey said she doesn't want any jewellery. In fact, she said, 'Max, don't you get me any jewellery, you hear?'" Max reported.

"No jewellery‽ Hm! Well, we'll find something very nice and very Tracey instead."

Daphne got permission to shop with the Lazenby party. The Greengrasses went the other direction to travel through Gringotts to get Rhiannon's money. Rhiannon was eager to use her newfound fortune but controlled herself and budgeted two-hundred Galleons.

"You know, I don't know what to get for Tracey, either…" Astoria pondered. "Nor Montel."

"I was gonna get the Davises a family gift, like. So we can split the money on that, too, and you won't have to think of separate presents," Rhiannon said.

On the way out of the bank, Astoria's mother had furtively stopped Astoria and said, "I want your gift to Rhiannon to be the finest of accessories for the dress she picks out. Buy the dress, too — make sure she does not spend too much money. If she is careful, the money in her vault could last her until she graduates. If she is not, and she makes no more money, she will be in the same situation again. I know she does not like us paying for her things because she feels like we are donating. But please try to watch her."

"I understand. I will," Astoria said.

"But I also want her to have fun today. I want you to have fun, too. So please be careful. I am taking your papa shopping with me. He agreed to let you shop on your own. Go to Twillfitt and Tattings and place an order for any dress Rhiannon wants. We'll all meet there at five."

"Yes, Maman."

"And Astoria—"

"Yes?"

"Rhiannon also knows the Shield Charm and the Revulsion Jinx, no?"

"Yes, she does. I taught her the Shield Charm last month."

"Very good, very good. Have fun. I love you!"

"I love you, too!"

Astoria and Rhiannon hurried excitedly to the second floor of Twilfitt and Tattings. Rhiannon was overwhelmed by the stock of gowns. She shuffled through the rows of hanging dresses and dress robes as though she were walking through the most fascinating of museum exhibitions.

"Astoria, is that you?" Anthea, the seamstress, called from her sewing table.

"Yes, it's me. How are you?"

"Oh, your parents make me very busy and very prosperous every Christmas," Anthea chortled. "What brings you in today?"

"My friend Rhiannon needs a dress for the banquet," Astoria said. "We will be in the Alley until five o'clock. If you will need extra pay to finish her dress by then—"

"Oh, no, dear, I only have two other orders today, and I really could not ask any more of your family when they have these banquets thrice a year, haha! Do you know my husband and I are going to the Caribbean next month? Oh, it will be so warm there…"

"That sounds lovely, Madam."

"Of course, of course. Now where's the lady in question? Ah, Miss Rhiannon! Feel free to pick out any size of dress; I can easily charm it to another size. Then we shall adjust it, and you'll be ready to dance!"

Rhiannon had been staring at a dress that was far too small for her for a whole minute.

"Oh, er, okay."

"What size are you, dear?"

Rhiannon paused, reading the tag on the dress that said it was a size six. Astoria knew why Rhiannon had stared at it for so long: it was one of the few dresses there that had sleeves that would conceal the scars on her right arm.

"Sixteen. Can you do that?"

"Straightaway," Anthea said, and the dress grew before Rhiannon's eyes. "Now, put this on, and then I shall adjust it."

Astoria anticipated that Rhiannon would have no idea how to put on the complicated garment and stood by the curtain whilst Rhiannon changed.

"Er, does this go on over me head or—?"

"Yes. Do not try to step into it."

Astoria heard a terrible noise of rustling as Rhiannon attempted to get the dress on. Finally she sounded to have succeeded.

"Can you get the back for me, please?"

Rhiannon shuffled out backward from behind the curtains. Astoria could see how nice the dress looked on her already. Its skirt had a circumference suitable for a princess with seven layers of lavender silk. Black lace and polka-dotted sheer fabric alternated atop of the silk layers, and the back of the violet bodice had a corset. Astoria remembered Daphne's similarly coloured dress from the Yule Ball and much favoured this one's design. She laced the corset, but then Rhiannon jumped excitedly and asked her what she was doing.

"I have to tie off the end, you know," Astoria said.

"Oh, yeah, well, that tickled," Rhiannon said speedily before scuffling to the fitting stand.

Astoria suppressed a few laughs as Rhiannon awkwardly positioned her arms and winced each time she thought she would be poked with a pin. In no time at all, the girls were ready to do the rest of their shopping. Rhiannon was so animated that she was hauling Astoria out of the shop by the wrist. She insisted on going to the appropriately titled Junk Shop, for it had intrigued her from the window of Twilfitt and Tatting's. Inside the cramped building, Astoria saw second-hand, broken, and antique items. It was not Astoria's idea of a shop, and she found a seat in a dusty old chair that kept telling her that her behind was too big. Rhiannon, however, loved the place and was browsing through anything and everything until she came back with a trolley containing a tiny Christmas tree that grew its own ornaments for Professor Sprout, a pastry recipe book for Professor Sinistra, a (new) hot chocolate-making kit for Professor McGonagall, a box full of beanie hats for her Muggle friend, and a surprisingly nice tea set for Flora. Astoria and Rhiannon counted out their money so that they might split the amount for Professors Sprout's and McGonagall's gifts, for Astoria had decided to get Professor Sinistra another gift separately. The overall total came to two Galleons and eight Sickles. Rhiannon was happy with her good deal.

After Shrinking the purchases into one bag, Rhiannon led Astoria into the market district to go to the gift shop of the Museum of Muggle Curiosities. Rhiannon purchased a new microwave oven for her Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbage, for the less reasonable six Galleons. In the ever-quirky Gladrags Wizardwear, she purchased Professor Trelawney a beaded scarf, and Astoria was able to get Flora a parasol with a barrier charm on it that would shield the user from rain and wind coming from all directions. Since there was a music shop right above Gladrags, the girls went up there to find a gift for Professor Flitwick. They found two instead: a set of magical piano wire and a new triangle to replace the one that a second-year had melted.

When they left the shop, they were somewhat surprised to see Professor Sinistra, who was leaving the House-Elf Agency building. She noticed and greeted them pleasantly, but she informed Astoria that she was unable to attend the banquet. Astoria's heart deflated; Rhiannon looked quite disappointed as well. Apparently seeing how disappointed she had made the girls, Professor Sinistra offered to show them one of her favourite food stands at Horizont Alley where a happy old wizard was selling roasted chestnuts. Their snack with Professor Sinistra revitalised Astoria after the disappointment. Later, Rhiannon spent about three Galleons on herself at Sugarplum's Sweet Shop before thinking to buy Harry Potter a set of Sugar Quills.

Rhiannon and Astoria turned onto Diagon Alley North Street and entered Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. They split the bill on a four-player chess set for the Davises. Rhiannon purchased a fishing set for Professor Hagrid and a grand map of Europe that showed the weather conditions in real time for Astoria's parents. Astoria meant to get her parents each a new pair of dancing shoes at Twilfitt and Tattings; she hoped that she could sneak back in to purchase them before her parents arrived at five o'clock.

At Flourish and Blotts, Astoria found a brilliant publication entitled Surreptitious Stonehenge for Professor Sinistra and both volumes of Asiatic Anti-Venoms for Hestia. Rhiannon purchased the impressive, ten-Galleon Disquisition on Sociology and Social Psychology for Professor Lupin, who reportedly "liked this sort of stuff." Astoria became concerned that Rhiannon was overspending; however, Astoria's mother had seen quite plainly the amount Rhiannon took out from her vault, so Astoria supposed that as long as Rhiannon had some money left, she had done her job. Rhiannon was not a frivolous purchaser anyway. She often squinted at the ceiling to do mental calculations of prices — something that Daphne never did.

Rhiannon and Astoria strolled into the Apothecary, and Rhiannon purchased a large box full of a variety of labelled claws and talons for Hestia's potion-making needs. She still insisted on getting a cauldron for Professor Snape, though, so the girls went to the very last shop on the Alley before the Leaky Cauldron: Potage's Cauldron Shop.

"Good afternoon," said the nearest wizard working there. "May I help you find anything?"

"Yeah, thanks, I'm lookin' for a fifteen-litre copper cauldron."

"Oh, copper? I'm afraid we're fresh out of copper on account of the holidays," the wizard said. "We have other cauldrons that size, though, if you'd like to pick one out."

"Ah, no thanks."

"Are we going back to the Apothecary for Professor Snape?" Astoria asked after they exited Potage's.

"Hm? No, we'll go to the other shop," Rhiannon said determinedly.

"Fine Enchanting Cauldrons?"

"Pssh! No, that place has cauldrons the size of the palm of me hand going for thirty Galleons. The other Potage's, I mean."

"What other Potage's?"

"The Knockturn Alley branch."

Astoria smiled since she thought Rhiannon had made a joke. She had not. The smile disappeared instantly. What made Rhiannon think that Knockturn Alley was a perfectly legitimate backup option for unfulfilled shoppers? The place was crawling with Dark Arts users. In fact, ninety-nine percent of the shops in the alley purposely specialised in the Dark Arts trade. "No" was the answer.

Astoria was under the impression that Rhiannon had actually listened to her until they reached the archway at the end of North Street and Rhiannon started handing Astoria her bag and all of her leftover money except for thirty Galleons.

"What are you doing, Rhi‽"

"Well, if you ain't coming, you might as well hold my stuff so I don't have to take it down there," Rhiannon said plainly.

"No, no, no, no, no. You aren't going to that place, either!" Astoria said heatedly. "What do you think that place is, Rhiannon? Look at it—" she made a desperate gesture down the road, "—it even looks scary during Christmastime!"

"Ah, like where I live, you mean? Listen, Astoria, I can handle this. I got me Foe-Shard, remember? And we know a lot of counter-curses now, so—"

"NO, RHIANNON!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Astoria, I can see Potage's from here! Come look, see, that's it, right there, just off the road a bit. You know, the place gets worse as it goes down, really. At the top, it's not so bad, so—"

"How do you even know about this? Have… have you actually been here before?"

"No, no, Hestia and Flora were talking about it once, and I 'member they said there's another Potage's there, and hey presto! See you later, Astoria."

"Rhiannon, no. That's dangerous. No, Rhiannon."

Rhiannon smiled a little and said, "Hey, you can wait here for me or gimme my stuff back and come with me."

Astoria was torn trying to think of ways to stop Rhiannon without physically incapacitating her. Rhiannon was stronger than Astoria was, so she could not drag her away from the creepy alley. Furthermore, if Astoria went in there with her to be an extra pair of eyes and an extra wand, people might see her. How awful it would be if anybody spotted a Greengrass in Knockturn Alley!

"I can't come with you, Rhiannon! What if somebody sees me?"

"They'll think you've got some secret edgy side to ya," Rhiannon grinned mischievously. "Nah, I'm just kidding, Astoria, listen, I bet Snape himself shops here. Now come along; you can stay close if you like."

Astoria did not know how she got into this ordeal; she only knew that she had plastered herself to Rhiannon's side and had not taken her eyes off of the foggy Foe-Shard. At any minute, something could emerge from behind those rickety wooden fences… Correction: Knockturn Alley was so narrow and cramped that anything behind the fences could merely reach over and snatch the pair. The street dipped in several places, and Astoria kept stumbling. Each time she yelped from her near-tripping, it echoed, possibly alerting unmentionable presences of her arrival. The fact that they were the only souls on the street actually made the situation more frightening. There must have been crowds of people there earlier, for there were brown, slushy footprints all over… or were they red?

"Rhi. Rhi, let's go back. There's got to be a reason why the employee at the other place didn't redirect us here."

"Yeah, probably so he can't get sued."

"Oh, no. Rhiannon."

"Look, we're here."

Astoria could not see the inside of the cauldron shop clearly, for there was hardly any lighting. It was so dark, in fact, that she guessed that the shop had closed and the workers had not yet locked the door. They obviously did remember to let the guard dogs out; two enormous Doberman Pinschers appeared from the darkness and started barking at a deafening volume, slinking right toward Astoria and Rhiannon.

"Shut it! OI — shut it!" a wizard's voice called angrily, and the dogs sauntered away.

A few more candles were lit; it was just enough for Astoria to see how different this shop was from the one in Diagon North. It looked like this shop's purpose was to hold overstock. Unlike the other shop, cauldrons of all sizes and materials were carelessly placed in huge piles. Many of them were already filled — with dust, that is. One could hardly be expected to browse the shop unless implementing an "antiquing" approach, which, by the looks of the wizard in front of Rhiannon, was not advisable. The wizard was wearing a ridiculously thick coat, or perhaps he was ridiculously thick and was wearing a normal coat. He had tangled brown hair and a long beard with little braided knots at the end. He narrowed his already narrowed eyes further and said, "Whaddya want?"

"I'm looking for a fifteen-litre copper cauldron," Rhiannon said.

The specifics of the request annoyed the wizard, and Astoria had casually slipped her hand into her coat pocket to not-so-casually get a hold of her wand.

"Copper's over there," the wizard grunted and expected his customers to know which direction "there" was.

Copper cauldrons were apparently in demand even within the Knockturn community, for Astoria spotted a pile of only six of them. The wizard had not moved apart from turning his head to monitor the pair. To Astoria's dismay, Rhiannon started turning each cauldron she picked up to find the little engravings that told of the size. In the process, she created an unreasonable amount of clamouring which was met by loud and intimidating footsteps upstairs.

"Hey, can you read what this says?" Rhiannon asked Astoria casually, oblivious to the wizard's glares.

"Fifteen litres," Astoria said without looking. Somebody else had entered the room from the staircase in the back.

"Really? It don't look like fifteen litres," Rhiannon said, reaching for the last of the six cauldrons. Astoria had no idea what she was going to do if Rhiannon walked out of that place without buying anything. She coughed, "Ahem, you can just resize it…"

"Engorgement and Shrinking Charms aren't good to use on cauldrons, you know," Rhiannon argued. "They have to be crafted a certain way."

The giant bearded wizard was the last person who looked like he cared about cauldrons being crafted in any way at all, and Astoria did not care, either. The cauldron was for the man who put her in detention with Draco anyway. It was not worth dying for whatsoever.

"Then get him the size you're holding," Astoria said sternly. "Come on, Rhiannon."

"Oh, wait, this one's fifteen."

Rhiannon started examining the last cauldron for imperfections.

"Here, hold this," she told Astoria. "Lumos."

Taking out her wand even for the Wand-Lighting Charm was one of the many unwise decisions Rhiannon was making. The wizard had removed his wand from his coat pocket and crossed his arms.

We're going to die, thought Astoria, and prepared herself to dump all of her money on the floor and get Rhiannon to make a run for it.

"Yeah, this one's good," Rhiannon said. Before Astoria could sigh with relief, Rhiannon added, "Do you have the lid to this one?"

"The lid…?" the wizard said slowly.

"Rhiannon, what the hell?" Astoria hissed into the girl's ear.

"HEY, MURT!" shouted the wizard.

"Wha?" a voice from the shadows called back.

"Hey, we got those lids Potage sent us?"

"Lids?"

"Yeah, mate, get this little witch the lid for her cauldron."

Astoria half-expected Rhiannon to tell the obscured employee the specifications for the cauldron, but she did not. The even bigger and hairier Murt appeared, carrying a massive crate of totally assorted cauldron lids. Astoria's chest felt so tight that her only method of breathing was swallowing the air inside her mouth. Yet Rhiannon searched through the crate all the same with clanging noises ringing in the air, apparently unaware of the two wizards' dead-eyed stares. Astoria wondered why she had not taken the Foe-Shard from Rhiannon before they entered; it was sitting uselessly in the girl's pockets somewhere…

"Found it, thanks," Rhiannon said happily. "I'll take this."

The first wizard walked back to a till, the sole hint that the place was a legitimate establishment, and told Rhiannon that the cauldron cost twenty-six Galleons.

"Twenty-six?" Rhiannon said. Astoria was side-stepping to the door and once more preparing to draw her wand.

"The sign at the other Potage's said there was an holiday discount for twenty-four on copper. That's why they're sold out, 'cos everyone goes up there."

"The… holiday discount, kid?" the wizard challenged crustily.

"Oi, give the little witch her holiday discount, mate," said Murt in hilarity.

The only assurance of any upcoming transaction was a gruff nod from the wizard at the till. Rhiannon counted out twenty-four Galleons and pushed them toward him. He took the money and then stared at her.

"What?" he snorted.

"Can I get a receipt? It's a gift."

No, no, no, you idiot, Astoria thought desperately.

The wizard did not move his expressionless head as he reached for a stubby old quill and some ripped parchment and scratched something that was supposed to be a receipt.

"Ready, Rhi? Come on," Astoria said.

"Thank you!" Rhiannon called. They were finally escaping.

As relieving it might have been to finally be out of Knockturn's rendition of a cauldron shop, going back outside was yet another frightening event. Astoria was able to look at the slush in the street and concluded that some of it was, in fact, bloody. The whole area seemed greyer than it had been when they walked in the shop. Astoria was prevented from leaving the tiny porch of Potage's as Rhiannon held her with one arm and checked her Foe-Shard with the other. Noting that the coast was clear of danger, they proceeded down the creaking steps only to find that the coast was not clear altogether. A group of four was hurrying up the hill, and Rhiannon pushed Astoria back up the stairs rather than get in the group's way. The foursome moved into a single-file line to get past a series of ditches in the road, and Astoria and Rhiannon saw them quite closely from their location. The first amongst them was a stocky wizard with black robes concealing his face. The second matched the first in garb but had a woman's figure. The third was much smaller and was wearing a pointed hat and green scarf. The fourth wore the same thing, but her scarf had slipped down to her chest and a gust of wind blew the brim of her hat upward as she passed by. It was Hestia.

To Astoria, the situation was scandalous. Hadn't Rhiannon recently said that Knockturn Alley became gradually worse as one went down the hill? The Carrows certainly looked like they had come back from a long journey down there. If Astoria had been in a building so suspicious on the first block, anywhere that the Carrows came from must have been strictly criminal. And what were all those things they were carrying? Merchant bags? The twins did not notice Astoria and Rhiannon; their attention, too, had been drawn toward the bloody slush.

"Don't step in that," the stocky woman hissed at the twins.

"Didn't rightly plan on it," Hestia retorted. "You think I'm stupid?"

"Don't talk to your aunt that way," snarled the man. "I'll give you three routes a day down there if mouthing off's all you're good for."

Hestia hoisted the bag with her wares higher over her shoulders and shut her mouth. After the Carrows left, the silence between Rhiannon and Astoria remained until they were back in Diagon Alley's main square. They made certain to put enough space between themselves and the Carrows.

"Here are your twelve Galleons. I cannot believe you made me do that," Astoria spat.

"I never made you do nothing but hold this cauldron when I checked it," Rhiannon believed.

Astoria looked back at the horrible Knockturn Alley and started walking. Perhaps, she felt, the farther away from it she was, the further the memory of it would be from her. Though internally livid at Rhiannon, she eventually dropped the matter under the influence of that dreadful sedative one might know as "the Christmas spirit."

Astoria was able to purchase new dancing shoes for her parents in time for them to arrive at Twilfitt and Tattings. There, Rhiannon was overjoyed with the way her new gown looked, yet she was nearly afraid to touch it for fear that she would damage it. The sheer excitement over the garment seemed to distract Rhiannon from the fact that she had seen the twins in that necropolis of a shopping district, but Astoria had already started theorising by the time they returned to the estate.

Rhiannon tried over and over again to wrap all of their purchases nicely with gift-wrapping charms. She was not doing a very good job, but she kept claiming that the charms were still easier than the manual method. For the gifts, the girls prepared slips of parchment saying, "Happy Christmas from Astoria Greengrass and Rhiannon Clarke — Undo the Shrinking Charm before opening!" A few of these slips of parchment would have longer communications, but what was Astoria to write in the letters to Flora and Hestia? "Try not to do anything illegal"? It felt so weird to know that she had spent the good part of the past year and a half sleeping in the same room as two girls who went on family outings to Knockturn Alley. Astoria recalled that Hestia had stated that her family was "freakishly protective" — if they were that protective, they would not have brought the girls to such a place! Apart from a few fleeting mentions of their dad, Astoria knew nothing about Flora and Hestia's family. It seemed that they talked about their family very little, much less than one normally would. The twins would send and receive owls from their dad the previous year, but ever since Umbridge started inspecting all of the letters, the twins received no letters from home. Astoria was definitely curious enough to ask her parents what sort of reputation the Carrow family had, but at the same time, she was not uncouth enough to bring up a potentially grim subject during the holiday. What if the Carrows had a similar history as the Malfoys?

Rhiannon finally recalled the event in Knockturn Alley once she started to wrap her gifts to the twins. She spoke of it in a tone that Astoria would not have used.

"Guess we know why the Carrow twins ain't coming to the banquet, eh? They're secretly the Kray twins."

"The… the what?"

"Ah, nothing. Was a bad joke."

"Well, I don't really think this is something to joke about."

"Probably not, no," Rhiannon said. She huddled on her bed with her knees to her chin. Astoria knew by the look in her eyes that the subject had been on Rhiannon's mind more than she had been showing.

"What do you think of it, exactly?" Astoria wondered. She wanted to hear Rhiannon's untouched opinion about the incident before she said anything.

"Dunno really. None of them were in the Foe-Shard. Weren't even making shadows in the background or nothing. Maybe something happened to them like it happened to us, like some shop was out of stock so they figured they'd get what they wanted down there."

Rhiannon was making all sorts of those nervous gestures that dissolved any steadfastness in her statements. One hand ran over the plush fabric of her comforter whilst the other played with the frays in her jeans. She looked to a wall rather than Astoria.

"Hestia's always said her aunt and uncle were a bit barmy."

"Has she?" Astoria asked. She hadn't been part of those conversations.

"Oh yeah. Yeah. I… once I asked her if they ever, you know, hurt them any, you know, but she claimed no, they're just barmy like. Don't like meetin' people, don't like going in public. Recluses, I guess. Hestia only mentioned them a couple of times, then didn't want to talk about it none. Can't imagine why they'd go to Knockturn during their one trip outside, huh?"

Astoria bit her tongue. She was almost certain the Carrow family had spent their trip not only buying but also selling. What was that about giving Hestia routes in Knockturn? Why were they carrying poisons?

"Maybe they…" Rhiannon swallowed. "Maybe they are more than what Hestia said. The aunt and uncle. Maybe they're no good. Not the girls, though. I know the girls are good."

"Flora and Hestia are lovely. But it was so eerie, wasn't it? I don't even think they saw us."

"Nah. Hestia looked something miserable, though."

"I know. Poor thing. Their aunt and uncle must have dragged them down there."

"That's what I reckon, yeah. But if we're gonna ask them about it, we have to wait till we go back. That'd be a terrible owl to get over the holiday."

"Definitely."

"Hey, let's not worry about it," Rhiannon said, retrieving a smile from somewhere far-off. "Let's get these presents sent, all right?"

Needless to say, it was fortunate for Astoria's owl, Twinkles, that the Greengrasses had several other owls to diffuse the task of delivering all of their gifts before Christmas. The task of teaching Rhiannon about the setting of the banquet table, however, was entirely left to Astoria. And yes, Rhiannon questioned the practicality of the use of five specialised forks over the course of the meal, but she was still absorbing information eagerly in the hopes that she would impress her fellow banquet-goers. She told Astoria that what she still did fear was her manner of speech.

"Oh, forget it, Rhiannon," Astoria said light-heartedly. "You'll add new spirit to the table!"

"Yeah, that's just what the posh folk wanna hear at Christmas — new spirit."

"When will you learn that we only turn up our noses at those who turn up their noses too high?"

Rhiannon poked Astoria's nose when her guard was down and said, "Like the Malfoys?"

"Most certainly."

---

The day before Christmas Eve, Quennell Park welcomed seventy-two more guests. Twenty-three were relatives from France. Forty-eight were Mrs Ciel-Greengrass's friends and their families from Beauxbatons. One was Philippe Boisvert.

Philippe had arrived with his parents, his two brothers, and his sister-in-law. Astoria met them all; they were all as friendly and placid as he was. She relaxed.

Philippe was wearing a coat that might have been for skiing, and Astoria quickly ushered him to another fireplace that was not being used for Floo transportation. Astoria relished the feeling of Philippe sitting next to her; she had to move her chair closer to him. She had missed his blue eyes looking at her. She had missed his voice so much. She had missed when he talked to her. She tried to not speak too quickly, not to sound too entranced, not to sound how Daphne did when she spoke with boys she liked. It didn't matter. It didn't work.

Philippe kissed Astoria. Suddenly, there wasn't as much to tell him with words.