Book 2: Astoria Greengrass and the Haunt of Azkaban

Song rec: "Waiting for Cars" by Soccer Mommy

Rhiannon could not imagine why there was a new shadow in her Foe-Shard on Christmas Eve morning. She lay on her side in that spectacularly comfortable bed staring at the shadow until her alarm went off. The shadow never materialised, but it floated there ominously in the glass and in her thoughts. "Ominous" was not a word that one should have to use on Christmas Eve morning, but the lone shadow had worked its way in front of that large group of figures that had been there since September. Rhiannon found herself pleading that whatever the problem was could wait until after the Christmas banquet that night.

Every single morning, she had a pain in her chest. This had been going on for a year or so, so it wasn't like a heart attack. It was more like dread, anxiety, and unhappiness even when she was perfectly happy. She felt empty and lost in the mornings like her mind just hated the idea of anything but sleep. Yet every morning, she had to get up. She had thought about telling somebody but they'd tell her she was stressed. And that'd be that. It wasn't quite so bad at night, though. Even after a bad day, it was like the warmth of her blankets welcomed her. Especially these very nice blankets at Quennell Park.

Rhiannon loved the way her dress looked on her when she put it on that evening. She could not stop spinning round her room; she could not get over the fact that the room was large enough to spin round in. All of the beautiful things that Astoria had bought her for Christmas were waiting to be worn, sitting on that little vanity in the corner with the big oval mirror. She was practising sitting down in the little seat in front of it so that she might be able to sit down in that giant dress whilst at the banquet. She looked into the mirror and studied her own face. A word she might have used to describe it would be "puffy."

Astoria came into the room. Rhiannon wondered if Astoria would describe her face as puffy but decided not to ask her. Astoria's face was formed nicer than Rhiannon's was, though she had a very crooked smile. It was crooked in a cute way, though; sometimes it made her nose twist a bit if she smiled suddenly. But she was already smiling since she was extremely excited about the banquet.

That evening, Astoria laced Rhiannon's dress corset incorrectly the first time, but Rhiannon didn't mind the wait or the re-do. Astoria was good with fixing hair; she certainly ought to be after spending all that time on her own hair each day. But she had never fixed Rhiannon's hair before, and Rhiannon was almost waiting for her to say that it couldn't be done. That never happened. However tiny Astoria's hands were, she managed to tame the monster that was Rhiannon's hair and bring it into a very pretty updo that Rhiannon feared would get messy if she moved her head too much. Astoria left the room to get ready herself, and Rhiannon was hardly in a mood to do anything in the meantime except watch the snow falling outside of her window and making wispy piles on the balcony.

Astoria thought it would be a good idea to go down to the banquet hall and see the table arrangements, so Rhiannon fumbled with her jewellery and shoes and joined her. Astoria wore a magnificent milky-blue gown with tiny, glinting silver beads arranged in designs at the neckline and down in one line on the skirt. She wore silver jewels in her hair, a matching necklace, and long gloves which Rhiannon could not get used to on her own arms. Rhiannon wanted to tell Astoria that she was beautiful, but Astoria was always beautiful, and it seemed rude to only mention it then. The problem was that any other time, Rhiannon didn't have the excuse of the pretty dress.

The banquet hall had twelve large tables with place cards. Rhiannon glanced at table ten; it only had French names she did not recognise. However, table eleven had some familiar names. The Lazenby herd still managed to leave enough room at the table for other diners, including Millicent Bulstrode, her father, and the Malfoy trio.

"Ah, who made these seating arrangements? Your parents, you said?" Rhiannon asked.

Astoria responded with a very peculiar look, one that was almost sad.

"Daphne told Dad that if Max and Tracey wouldn't be at the same table, they should at least be at tables near each other. …See, the Davises are at table twelve aren't they? Yes, and Maman thought that Mrs Malfoy might enjoy being near a table with French-speakers."

"Oh, I thought it was to keep the Malfoys away from our table," Rhiannon said humorously.

"I… I don't think that was intentional, Rhi," Astoria responded apologetically.

"You okay?" Rhiannon asked Astoria earnestly. The conversation seemed to disturb her.

"I'm perfectly fine. Are you?"

"'Course I am. So who's at table nine?" Rhiannon said, walking over to ease her curiosity. "Oh, I didn't know Lavender Brown was gonna be here… Boy, she's a noisy one in the halls, ain't she? We'll probably hear her from up at our table."

"My father is good friends with Lavender's uncle," Astoria yammered. "Yes, see, we have them sitting with the Pettrochis… those are other good friends… quite a few Ravenclaws here tonight. I mean, not Lavender, but…"

"You okay, Astoria?"

"Yes, I'm okay. I do wish Professor Sinistra could have come, though… I could have shown her some of my astronomy books…"

Rhiannon was surprised that Astoria had the capacity to remember other people whom she invited, what with Philippe Boisvert's temporary occupancy demanding most of her attention. The Boisverts were to sit at table five, which was oh-so desirably placed in perfect view of Astoria's table. Tables four and two were to hold more of Astoria's maternal relatives; complementarily, table three would see many diners with the Greengrass surname. Finally, the girls reached the intriguing table one at which Rhiannon would find company with Astoria's parents, grandparents, and cousins, but at which she might find distaste for Daphne and the unexpected presence of Leonard Mongaby.

"Mr Mongaby…?" Astoria gasped. "What is he doing here? And at our table! How awkward!"

"Christmas with our manager, how splendid," Rhiannon said sarcastically. "D'you think he'll make those clicking noises with his teeth if he don't like the way we're eating?"

"Oh, why did Dad do this…?"

"Might as well go with it," Rhiannon said.

"Going with it" was exactly what Rhiannon was doing as the event began. About seventy people were due to arrive, and Astoria told Rhiannon to wait in the parlour with Philippe and Zéphir. Though typically unimpressed by the pair, Rhiannon was thankful to have them in her company whilst she was surrounded by Mrs Ciel-Greengrass's French-speaking family. Unfortunately, though, after greeting Rhiannon, the boys reverted to their native tongue to speak about some of Zéphir's English girls whom he obviously was waiting to see. Rhiannon could not really see what it was about Zéphir that gave him fans in two countries. Apart from the smooth attitude he played out and that French accent of his, he seemed quite average to Rhiannon. Yet even Rhiannon had to admit that Philippe was attractive. That was a problem.

After Philippe made some considerably unwanted small talk with Rhiannon, she developed the courage to peer outside of the parlour. In the massive drawing room across the hall, Rhiannon first saw Mr Davis towering above his daughter, who was quick to locate Max Lazenby and kiss him without any excuse of mistletoe. An otherwise very pretty girl who was unfortunate enough to have her brother Max's nose chuckled at the couple before waving in Rhiannon's direction. People never waved at Rhiannon, so she had learnt to never raise her hand if there was any doubt. As expected, the wave was meant for the French duo behind Rhiannon. In front of her, an octet was moving through the crowd to set up their instruments in the ballroom.

Although most parties arrived by the Floo Network, several without children Apparated onto the front steps outside and found themselves gaping at the mansion and failing to perceive the cold weather in their awe. They were encouraged inside by Astoria's maternal grandparents, a sophisticated pair whom Rhiannon was anticipating to fail to impress. Very few were arriving on broomsticks due to the frigid weather, but there was one party of seven who made quite the show of doing so; the fast flyers were swirling outside in the snowy air, evidently familiar with the place. Finally, they came to a stop and ran up the massive stone staircase outside to reach the front doors. A wizard in his late forties was the first to enter. Although his dress was just as formal as anyone's, his long, brown ponytail seemed to subvert the air of aristocracy that others in his family possessed. It was interesting to compare this man's long hair with that of Malfoy's father; Rhiannon was reminded more of a pub owner than of a man of the gentry. The wizard was at least three feet taller than the old Ciel couple when he stood in front of them to shake hands, and his entry was loud enough to draw out Astoria's father, who quite surprisingly dropped his composure to give the wizard a mannish hug.

"Faunus, what has taken you so long?" Mr Greengrass boomed.

Another man, about half the age of Faunus, came forward to bring the others into something of a Quidditch huddle and said, "Dad insisted on taking the brooms tonight and spent about twenty minutes trying to convince me to ride with Xylia. It might be my Squibism talking, but I can't stand heights like that. So I must say, if you were inconvenienced, it is not entirely Dad's fault this time!"

"Nonsense, Renshaw! Where are the rest of my nieces?"

"But, Uncle, you've forgotten me," said a wizard with a beard that aged him.

"Of course not, Sylvester. How could I forget the one who's getting married in my house in the spring? Valera arrived a few moments ago — she is in the drawing room now."

Once Sylvester and his beard moved out of the entrance hall to greet fiancée Valera, Rhiannon got a clear enough view to recognise one witch in the interesting group: Ansel Greengrass, who had nobly told off Pansy Parkinson before the Yule Ball the previous Christmas. She, her mother, and the girl holding the largest broom who must have been Xylia all started greeting Astoria's father whilst a third sister hung back slightly from the overwhelming pile of family and glanced lazily into the drawing room. Whatever the drawing room was displaying to her eyes at that moment did not impress her; she slinked round Renshaw to get a preview of the decorated ballroom and, in turn, permitted Rhiannon to get a preview of her. The witch had styled her inky hair in an inappropriate way for a ball even by Rhiannon's standards. She sported spikes that must have been styled with magic, for her hair looked to be quite soft to the touch instead of stiff and gluey. A thick and elaborate diamond choker was round her neck; it very possibly was little more than an attempt to cover a purplish mark that drew Rhiannon's attention even more than the myriad of tattoos revealed by the witch's open-backed evening gown. The witch pulled the same move that Max Lazenby's sister had only a minute before, smiling in Zéphir and Philippe's direction — that is, if Zéphir and Philippe had not moved away from the parlour entrance. Rhiannon wondered why anyone with a face as pretty as that girl's would be smiling at the early-balding Frenchman who stood in the boys' former spot. Then it occurred to Rhiannon that the smile was meant for her. However, the witch had already disappeared into the drawing room.

The banquet began in an exaggerated fashion as far as Rhiannon was concerned. Each party was announced by Astoria's paternal grandmother before being shown to their table by the house-elves. It could have helped Rhiannon identify people, but instead it nearly put her to sleep as she stood by the host family. Desperately hoping that no one witnessed her eyes' profound drooping, she walked extra-perfectly over to her table and forced herself to stay awake during the welcoming speech. After that, Rhiannon was swept into several formal introductions with the people at her table. Astoria's grandparents, Mr Samson Ciel and his wife Emmaline, spoke no English, but they truly did not let that stop them from speaking to Rhiannon. Astoria served as the interpreter as the old couple asked her about school and her interest in music. This consequently brought Leonard Mongaby into the discussion, but his dry ramblings about managing a band dissolved into some compliments about Rhiannon's guitar playing from Astoria's Ravenclaw cousins, Adamina and Sofronia.

The first course was approaching, and Rhiannon had trouble deciding whether she would order caviar with orange slice or caviar in oysters since neither dish was desirable. Astoria ordered the one without the aquatic cymbals, so Rhiannon did the same and tried not to cringe as she swallowed the slimy little eggs. Her good heart prevented her from notifying the house-elves with the "do not like" cutlery position. She figured that as far as salty fish ova go, it must have been good, for the house-elves even went through the trouble of providing mother-of-pearl spoons to preserve the taste. Only Astoria noticed Rhiannon's distaste for the caviar. She grinned widely and said, "Just wash it down" well beneath the volume of the table's conversation. The second course was something of a seafood sculpture; two massive platters appeared on the table, and Rhiannon was happy that she at least could recognise shrimp and crab. During this course, she was gently interviewed by Adamina and Sofronia about the different ways that Muggles have to do simple tasks without magic. What intrigued them most was the vacuum cleaner, and Adamina mentioned to her mother that they ought to obtain one for the girls' dad, who openly admitted he could not use magic.

"What do you say, dear? You could help with more chores that way," Mrs Greengrass-Kippling prodded.

"More chores… Sounds superb," her husband expressed with a laugh.

The third and main course was the most edible thing Rhiannon had seen so far. Upon Mongaby's enquiry, Mrs Ciel-Greengrass announced that the dish was broiled premium rib-eye steak with hachis Parmentier and a garden salad (that last of which should have already been quite evident to him). Mongaby ate his dish decisively and pointed his nose toward Rhiannon and Astoria when he had finished. Warping the table's small talk into thorough dialogue, he asked the two when they would start working on their next album. Somewhat outraged, Rhiannon let Astoria do the talking to avoid losing that toff-like composure she was trying so hard to focus on.

"We've only just released the first one," Astoria said, placing her cutlery in the "resting" position with style.

Mongaby received heavy looks from nearly every occupant at the table, but he continued speaking of business all the same.

"Astoria, do you know how many albums The Weird Sisters have, and they have only been together six years?" Mongaby said, faking a laugh in order to try to lighten the appearance of his demands.

"That'd be eleven," Rhiannon said through the wind of a sigh. "But I don't see how you expect us to do what they're doing."

"Because it isn't only them, Rhiannon. The music industry for Wizardkind isn't like it is with Muggles. How many artists have we got on the Infinite label? About twenty, and you're one of them. Not to mention that there are only a few British indie bands running about. Think about it."

Rhiannon tried to imagine what it would be like to walk into P.R.'s Music Shop and find albums from only about ten active bands. It was more out of pity for her fellow magical teens than out of cooperation that Rhiannon accepted the conversation for what it was.

"We'll see what we can do," Astoria said with a small smile, and Mongaby knew that the discussion ended with that.

Rhiannon wondered if Astoria was happy with the new songs that they had written and composed together. More and more songs in Astoria's handwriting had appeared in the band's notebook, but Rhiannon wasn't sure if Astoria was coming up with music because Rhiannon had asked her to or if she was really motivated. How long would it be before Astoria got angry at Rhiannon again about something to do with the band? Just hearing about other bands and deadlines made her feel pressured. Rhiannon knew that pressure like that could sometimes be enough to tear friends in bands apart. She wished that there was some way to get an honest answer out of Astoria about how she truly felt about being in Pariah. Lately, it seemed that Astoria had been enjoying it more, but Rhiannon had seen Astoria do plenty of stupid things to make other people happy. That was what made her sweet. That was what made her intimidating.

No fancy French words like "escargots à la bourguignonne" could disguise the fact that Rhiannon was given garlicky snails for the fourth course. It did not matter how "gourmet" the meal reportedly was. In the end, those were snails on a plate. The caviar was bad enough, but Rhiannon simply could not bring herself to eat the buttery gastropods. However, with the complicated snail tongs being more noticeable than, say, a spoon when not in use, the situation seemed hopeless and Rhiannon waited powerlessly as her faux pas became recognised. Astoria came to the rescue, as was her nature, and said very quietly that Rhiannon could signal the house-elves to take the food and snail-specific utensils away by putting her other cutlery in the "finished" position. She did just that, and the incident passed without any more offended looks from old Mr and Mrs Ciel. Rhiannon glanced round the banquet hall and felt pity for all those who did not know the secret to make the seasoned slime vanish.

Almost as if to make up for the previous course, dessert consisted of something that Mrs Ciel-Greengrass called "mousse aux deux chocolats" and a delicious persimmon pudding cake, the likes of which Rhiannon had never known before. Astoria's house-elves could be competitors of the Honeydukes bakers! Rhiannon could have had an entire meal of just desserts.

"My family starts the first dance in fifteen minutes," Astoria said elatedly after finishing her mousse. "Then the ball begins."

Rhiannon smiled.

"Where is your game room?"

Astoria did not smile.

"Rhiannon, you really should dance. I know you may not believe me, but you are very light on your feet now, and there are plenty of people here who would like to dance with you. Please try. I taught you so much. I promise it will be fun," she argued.

Once all were in the ballroom, the octet played an energetic tune to which the Greengrasses did a quickstep. There was little lenience with the fact that only Greengrass family members were to show their dancing expertise for the first dance; only Sylvester Greengrass was able to dance with his fiancée Valera, whilst the rest ended up dancing with their cousins. The youngest six were all girls, but they seemed to know some protocol that whoever was older was leading. Ansel Greengrass was unlucky enough to be stuck with Daphne; fellow table-one diner Adamina Kippling was with the anonymous witch who had smiled at Rhiannon, and Astoria and Sofronia Kippling were sweeping across the floor. It was very different to see Astoria dancing from an outsider's perspective. When Rhiannon had danced with her in the Astronomy library, she could not see how graceful the girl really was. The short dance ended, and after a merry applause, the Ciel family and other guests took their places on the ballroom floor. Rhiannon watched as Philippe and Astoria drew near to each other in a waltz.

Chairs and small beverage tables lined the walls, and Rhiannon picked a seat opposite the doors to the gardens. In the light of gold lanterns lining a walkway outside, Rhiannon could watch the light snowfall instead of the ball inside. She considered that she might dance eventually, but it would only be to keep some of her pride. It wouldn't actually be fun. It wouldn't be with Astoria.