Book 4: Astoria Greengrass and the Curse of Quennell Park
Song rec: "Wrapped in Piano Strings" by Radical Face
"Legibility [in environmental psychology] reflects the ease with which a place can be recognized, organized into a pattern and recalled — in other words, a place that we can wander around in without getting lost." - F. T. McAndrew
Professor Sinistra did not open the door all the way, much like Theodore when he had first seen Astoria at his doorstep. Astoria tried to present herself as normally as possible, but her body felt unrecognisable.
"Astoria, dear," Professor Sinistra gasped, opening the door a hair more, "When is the next standard equinox and epoch going to be defined?"
Astoria wished the professor would have asked her a simpler identifying question, and raked her brain sleepily.
"Er, at the millennium…" she scraped by.
"Well, that's out of the way. Come in before the guards take notice," Professor Sinistra invited.
She drew Astoria into the house. The entryway was lit with only a few candles to avoid the attention of the Death Eaters who patrolled the village. It cast flickering light onto the odd paintings hung on the wall. Astoria wore no cloak, so the closet off the entry did not serve her. She watched Professor Sinistra secure the door with magical and manual locks alike.
"I'm sorry about the time, Professor. I need a place to stay. I'm really sorry."
"Oh, of course! You don't have to apologise. I am so glad to know you're safe! I've been worried out of my mind about you, dear!"
She gave Astoria a tight hug and led her down a hall full of paintings of strangely coloured landscapes. Astoria had seen many years' worth of the professor's memories of this house during Legilimency lessons, but it was strangely difficult to keep a sense of direction. The sitting room should have been right off the entry…
"Here we are. I apologise for the mess. Really, it's quite a disaster zone in here," Professor Sinistra sighed at the unrecognisable sitting room.
There were piles of household items, textbooks, junk mail, and newspapers on every place to sit, so the professor conjured two more chairs and kicked a pile of dishtowels out of the way. The light from Professor Sinistra's wand was not sufficient to study the place closely. It had a disagreeably strong perfume in the air, but it was far better than the sour cigarettes and marijuana from the hotel. Astoria did not want to set her suitcase on anything of potential value and rested it on her lap.
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry. You can set that right here — yes, I'm sorry. I haven't tidied."
"WHAT A MESS!"
Astoria startled at the sound of a man's voice coming from the back of the house. Professor Sinistra, too, lost her train of thought for a moment.
"Oh, that's the bird! I'm sorry, dear. The bird can talk, mostly to make fun of people. I'm so sorry about that. It's one of those noisy Doppelvangas, and—"
"Professor, really, don't worry about it. It's very late. Would you mind telling me if my family was in the news?"
"Well, You-Know-Who is controlling the media. He has been for quite some time. I found out about the attack through the Death Eaters themselves… they're all talking about it. Ahem. Excuse me. It's a terrible, terrible thing. I am very sorry. You've been through so much. I'm just so happy you're alive… I've been going mad in here… We can talk tomorrow, if you'd like."
"Yes, ma'am."
"There are a few things I have to tell you tonight, though. Firstly, I've been clearing out boggarts instead of getting to the root of the problem and cleaning the house…"
More boggarts?
"Naturally," the professor continued, "I'd prefer to deal with boggarts in the daylight hours, so please don't open anything. I'll be more than happy to help you settle in with your things tomorrow, and you can make yourself at home then. For reference, my boggart is a dementor. I recall you've seen dementor-boggarts before with Professor Lupin."
"Yes, I have."
"Well, just in case, what exactly is your boggart, dear?"
Astoria's boggart wasn't anything that could be pictured. Instead, she kept remembering Alecto's.
"Erm, my boggart…" she tried to talk. "It's invisible. It makes it so, er, everyone seems to lie or keep things from me. But, erm, I actually just saw… a really bad one, erm… before I came here…"
Her mouth went dry. She wondered if her boggart would change to match Alecto's. Likely not. Astoria didn't fear Alecto's boggart, per se. A boggart can't survive on what Astoria felt about it if she couldn't even name the feeling herself. Professor Sinistra thankfully asked no questions.
"Oh, Astoria…" she sighed. "That sounds horrible. Well, if one day I act bizarrely and lie, let's assume a boggart found you, and I can get rid of it. That brings me to the next thing I'd like to tell you. Please use this staircase as your reference point."
She pointed to the main stair, a steep switchback with an intricate twigwork banister. Looking out of the room, Astoria noticed a line of large ornaments hanging from the arch. In the dark, it looked like eyes were painted on them.
"I've abused the Undetectable Extension Charm to the point of tax evasion," Professor Sinistra admitted. "Winky sometimes gets lost trying to clean up my messes, poor thing. If you hear her calling, tell me so I can Summon her. She does better at Hogwarts, I think. When she gets lost there, there's always a ghost, portrait, or cat she can follow. Here, well, it's just us and the bird. Oh, now I'm just blathering. I'm so glad you're alive, dear. Let's get you something to drink."
Winky appeared atop a pile of newspapers that threatened to slip. Professor Sinistra tutted at herself; it seemed she had meant to make the tea without waking Winky. The damage was done, though.
"W-Winky heard someone else talking. Winky comes to Madam Aurora straight away! Winky makes good tea, Miss Greengrass, very good tea!"
Her high-pitched voice was silly and comforting, and like most everything she made, the tea was delicious. Astoria rubbed Winky's floppy bat ears. Professor Sinistra knew how much sleep Astoria had lost since the attack and showed her up the stair soon after.
"I'm sorry; it'll be the sixth floor. I didn't want to put you on a floor all by yourself. I am on the sixth floor."
"The sixth floor isn't much compared to Astronomy Tower," Astoria said.
Professor Sinistra hummed. Astoria had barely realised how much she had missed her in the disaster; it was so wonderful to be with her again. Though exhausted, Astoria did not object to the climb. She had been cramped in little more than a large closet space for so long, and the further they ascended, the less prominent the grandmotherly fragrance was. Each of the floor landings they passed had the same eyelike ornaments on the beams, and sconces with tiny, purple flames. On the fifth floor, Astoria was bemused by an interior window looking to another part of the house, invisible from the outside. There was some sort of artistic feature on the far wall of the hallway, but no access from the staircase.
On the sixth floor, Professor Sinistra fed the sconce flames with another dash of magic, and the hallway appeared in a soft, violet glow. There was a small sitting area, a bathroom, a presumed closet, and two bedrooms. It was uncharacteristically neat compared to the rest of what Astoria had seen. The bedroom she was shown was, in fact, as orderly as any room at Quennell Park. It had a sweet little bench in an oriel window. Tied along the curtain rod were hanging beads, charms, and bushels of dried herbs. The room was otherwise decorated with celestial globes and antique navigational equipment. Astoria set her suitcase on a round ottoman and sat herself on the comfy bed.
"I have better pillows. If those pillows are too thick, keep Summoning pillows until you get one you like!" Professor Sinistra offered. "My house is full of strong magic to hide your Trace."
"What if I were to steal your pillow from under your head?" Astoria said light-heartedly.
"I'll put an Anti-Theft charm on mine," the professor nodded.
"Thank you very much for all you've done, Professor Sinistra. Erm, I wanted to tell you, Alecto kidnapped me, but she sort of had a nervous breakdown. So she shouldn't be looking for me, if that, er… makes you feel better."
Professor Sinistra walked up to her and put both hands on her shoulders.
"Astoria, I am so sorry this happened. But I wouldn't care if you were an international fugitive. There is no way I would turn you out there. The only reason I might not want you here is so you wouldn't see my hoarding! Is that clear?"
Professor Sinistra really was the best — the sort of person one could never hope to repay. She dimmed the lights, a purple twinkle coming through one of the glass eye charms.
"Professor, what are these ornaments?" Astoria simply had to ask.
"Oh, those are nazar and hamsa amulets," she answered, enthused to talk in spite of the hour. "They offer protection against the evil eye. Or, as we say, malevolent Legilimency. Now, keep in mind, they are not replacements for Occlumency. These merely allow protection for a certain area, not a specific person. That's why I have them everywhere. Even I cannot use Legilimency in the house."
"Oh, wow… I didn't know that."
"It's tradition. I doubt it would be taught in D.A.D.A. these days, but I've found it highly effective. My mother used the nazar, and my mother-in-law used the hamsa. Isn't it nice how some ideas are universal?"
Astoria agreed. In the dim purple cast, Professor Sinistra's eyes shone beautifully. It had been a long time since Astoria had appreciated their kindness without any pressure from either of their Legilimency. The professor retired to her room, and Astoria lay back on the bed. So much weight had vanished from her nerves and muscles, and the plush of the pillow was a luxury. Her chest ached with sheer relief. She had bittersweet thoughts of what her parents might think of the chaotic receiving area of the house and the many talismans. She hoped that her family was somewhere they liked, with pretty rooms and commodities. Their world, she hoped, was still small.
Astoria's world was not. She had only been asleep for mere minutes — perhaps she wasn't asleep at all — when her entire body jolted, and Alecto's boggart flashed before her eyes. Before she knew it, she was sitting up in bed. She must have shouted, because Professor Sinistra was at her door in an instant.
"Astoria! Dear, are you hurt?"
Astoria wanted to say, "Nightmare," but it hadn't been a nightmare, had it? Her whole body tingled. Her brain invented pain that wasn't there. Alecto's tears, though, were still wet on the fabric against her knee. It would dry soon enough, surely. Astoria moved her robe so she wouldn't feel it… that sensation was worse than pain, wasn't it?
"I'm not hurt. I'm sorry, Professor. I started from my sleep. I'm… stressed."
Professor Sinistra sat at the side of her bed.
"Understandably," she said. "Heavens, how could you not be?"
She took Astoria's hands and rubbed them softly. She must have known that "stressed" didn't even begin to cover it.
"Astoria, I am right across the hall. I know you are frightened. Your mind and body are both exhausted. Would you like me to get you a potion?"
Astoria knew she could not hold down anything more complex than water right now. Perhaps she could not hold water, either.
"No, thank you. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."
"Enough of that," the professor said with a swift nod, and she bid her goodnight a second time.
Astoria awoke late, not wanting to acknowledge that anything existed beyond the blankets. The Foe-Shard had rolled out of her crumpled robes overnight and sat cold against her arm. She could make out a few of the Death Eaters patrolling Hogsmeade. Astoria sat up, tilted her suitcase, and grabbed the slight supply of toiletries she had left. They were dirty after the misadventure with Alecto. It was afternoon, and Professor Sinistra must have gone downstairs hours ago.
The bathroom had two marble sink basins, one with light water stains and drops of soap, and the other sparkling clean. Astoria used the former, trying to make as little imprint as possible on Professor Sinistra's hospitality. Back in the hall, Astoria was so impressed with the décor, orderliness, and expanse of that level of the house that she wanted to request a tour. That was probably out of the question with the current state of affairs. She minded Professor Sinistra's advice to keep on the main staircase. Sunlight sparkled through the blue nazars and hamsas, and Astoria noticed plenty more points of interest along the way. Each curve of the handrail was carved with a floret of overlapping circles. The interior window she had seen on the fifth floor was already gone; it had been oddly replaced with a brick wall with a door simply painted on it. The third and the second levels' flooring was transparent, and Astoria could see all the way down to the kitchen and pantry. Whether it was like that last night, she couldn't say. She mostly thought of the food she had spied on the pantry shelves.
In daylight, Astoria could see that the entryway was not prepared as much for guests as it was for a certain somebody's routine of coming home. A stand that was decidedly in the way kept pointed wizards' hats in place. Tiny hooks by the door kept magical keys for jobs long terminated and locks long since changed. There was a series of bell chains by the door that had been installed for the owners of the house to find each other. The quality apparatus had been scribbled upon with the old jokes of seventeen-year-olds: "Aurora Step Away from the Telescope Bell," "Jonah Put the Book Down Bell," and of course, "GUEST! Throw Everything in a Closet Bell."
"Professor Sinistra?" Astoria called.
"I'm in here."
Down the stoop from the formal kitchen, Professor Sinistra had a large, messy still room for concocting things other than food. She stood at a long island, collecting bright red slivers into a bowl. Her eyes fell abruptly on Astoria's feet, which still had Muggle ringworm.
"I've finished making an itching powder, if you want to make your feet ten times worse," she grinned. "I was going to make rose hip jam. But I can make you an ointment for that if we let you-know-who make the jam."
The "you-know-who" in this case, of course, was Winky, but Astoria couldn't help herself.
"You-Know-Who's a world-renowned baker according to Witch Weekly. I wonder what turned him to crimes against humanity," Astoria clucked.
"His cupcake shop went completely bankrupt. Don't make light of it," Professor Sinistra joked along. "Winky dear!"
POP!
Winky looked shaken and could not have been happier to have something to do. She took the seeded rose hips up to the kitchen, looking both ways before she passed the threshold.
"She's always a bit cautious whenever I rearrange the house. She gets that way when the staircases change at Hogwarts, too. I'm glad you didn't have any trouble making your way down here. I tried to clear the floors above me so you could see downward, just in case. I missed this room, though, because I think I have another toilet above. No, maybe the lumber room…"
Professor Sinistra waved her long wand back and forth, murmuring a spell that turned the ceiling above them transparent. She raised one eyebrow at the view, which was neither a toilet nor lumber room, but a closet. Beneath the dated clothing were brown boxes stuffed with what anyone would hope were woodworking tools.
"Hm. That doesn't make sense. I thought I put that closet by the archives. Oh well. Here, I'll teach you how to make this. I would have thought Severus had. This recipe must not have 'ensnared' his senses enough, I suppose. We're going to take this — Accio celandine sap — and mix it with these oils. I know we have them somewhere… Aha!"
It only took them twenty minutes to blend and thicken the ointment, and Astoria was as glad to stop itching as she was to stop being so ashamed of her ringworm. She would have to wash the blankets she had slept in, too. Yuck.
Professor Sinistra poked her arm out the kitchen window and cast an Atmospheric Charm to get a sunny day. Astoria admired the expansive ring of clouds the professor had shooed away in one go. Astoria took the leftovers of the breakfast she had missed, noting with curiosity that her glass had eyes painted on it.
Professor Sinistra showed her to the sunroom, which had a view to the summer vegetable patch. The ceiling was strung with boughs of herbs, and assorted flower heads in glass jars of water. Woven baskets in all shades of pink were stacked high by a new, mismatched door that led easily out to the tomatoes. A large, blue and gold bird sat peacefully in its cage under the prisms of a milky stained glass window. That must have been the bird that had startled her with its loud, humanlike call.
Astoria took a seat and admired the view of the mountains whilst she ate. Professor Sinistra reclined in a black wicker chair, and rummaged underneath it for a heavy reference book. A little more rummaging gave her a handful of yellow-green rushes to weave with. She switched her gaze between the book and the design she was carefully weaving with the rushes. When Astoria came back from washing her dishes, Professor Sinistra already had three artsy crosses in her lap.
"These are Saint Brigid's crosses. They ward off evil. Would you like to learn how to make one?"
"Sure."
The bird ruffled its glittering feathers and oriented to the sound.
"Sure!" said the bird, imitating Astoria's voice.
Professor Sinistra chuckled, "If he annoys you, I can move him."
"Move him!" said the bird in Professor Sinistra's accent.
"Er, no that's all right," Astoria said, and the bird playfully repeated what she said again.
She hadn't known that the bird was using mimicry; the way Professor Sinistra had worded it before, Astoria thought the bird was totally capable of speech as say, a house-elf or some fairies were. When it turned out that it only mimicked, Astoria grew curious about the voice she had heard it use last night.
Astoria decided not to encourage the bird further and quietly watched Professor Sinistra's method for making the crosses. She also consulted the moving drawings in the guidebook. Its title was Advanced Apotropaic Magic, an antique volume on amulets, talismans, good-luck charms, and other Dark deflectors. Astoria considered what a benefit it could have been as a D.A.D.A. textbook, although it undeniably encouraged house clutter. Astoria abruptly soured as she took in the expanse of Professor Sinistra's Extended house and the extraordinary amount of possessions in it. How long would it take Professor Sinistra to leave the house in an emergency? Would she have to take all of her things with her, like the Greengrasses had done? Half of this stuff she didn't even use.
Wringing that ill feeling out required the manual but creative task of making ten St Brigid's crosses. Astoria considered that most of the junk in the professor's house was just that — junk, which she had hoarded over the difficulty of throwing things away. There weren't treasures with prices and things to display for guests' eyes, but memories (and nothings) piled into clustered mountains that embarrassed her. As Astoria idly flipped through the book's pages, she also saw that most anything that hung in the house was apotropaic in nature. The eyes painted on the goblets and cups, the bushels of herbs, the crosses, and the amulets were only surface protectors. Anything Professor Sinistra had faith in, like root poppets and bent coins, could become part of the walls themselves with a bit of oddball remodelling. That the house was strange and dusty should have been Astoria's clue that no sense of hubris permeated the walls. She scolded herself for directing her grudge against her parents onto the professor.
Still, having to keep to only a few rooms sat wrong with Astoria, though it was no doubt the leftover unease from having been trapped in the hotel. There was plenty of room to walk in spite of areas of profound hoarding. Even in her limited area, Astoria spotted a side staircase that led nowhere and a door positioned at a right angle on the upper wall and ceiling. A pile of mismatched leather shoes fell on her head when she unlatched the corner door, perhaps a hint not to snoop. The cascade of lucky shoes alerted Professor Sinistra to Astoria's need for clothes, since her only two garments were stained and worn from continuous washing with hotel hand soap. This was the first invitation to wander the house in search of closets, and Astoria accepted it with a palpable heartbeat. Again, she was warned of boggarts, and kept her wand handy.
She walked up to the third level to see what it would be like to step onto see-through floor. It was better than a broom, but being able to see all the way down to the kitchen beneath her led to a silly need to touch the wall. The first closet she encountered, she opened. She knew that beggars could not be choosers, but the clothes in there screamed the seventies a tad too much. There was an old strip of parchment tacked to the inside of the door. It had Crouch Jr's writing.
"If you're looking for the broom closet, I put it on the ground floor behind the icebox room. Why did we put the brooms all the way up here in the first place? Good thing the N.E.W.T.s didn't test our common sense! Love you. –Jonah"
Down the hall, there was a room with drawers for walls. There was a drawer labelled "quill nibs" that instead had a tin of mints, a drawer dedicated to receipts that instead had painted pebbles, and several drawers that had nothing at all. Astoria couldn't make out what was in one drawer until it popped out at her — a folded ladder snaked its way right from the drawer and up to the ceiling, where a hole had been cut through the storeys. Astoria was so amused by it that she got her footing and went up the ladder. She poked her head into darkness and shimmied her arm up to cast the Lighting Charm. The room had been created with magical space; there were no windows and no spots from the outside where the room could be found. It was mostly old furniture and boxes of china. A weird trail mix of pumpkin seeds, prescription potion capsules, and dried candle wax was set in a circle across the floor, but Astoria could not find from where they had been spilt. So they must have been placed… Astoria climbed back down.
She navigated her way back to the main staircase and went up to the fourth floor proper. Just as she suspected, the room she had accessed from the ladder was nowhere to be found. She went through the double doors by the corner and found an amazing, alphabetised collection of cassettes sitting in tiny shelves built solely for that purpose. There were green beanbag chairs, shaggy rugs, and a home bar. The walls were decorated with old rock band posters that had been frayed on the edges from multiple moves. Some of them had glittering silver autographs from the band members. Rhiannon would have fallen to her knees at the sight of it.
In addition to the posters, there were personal photographs. One of them showed a trio of apparently inseparable friends: Glenda Chittock, Aurora Sinistra, and Crouch Jr. They were at a crowded concert, all sporting t-shirts from previous shows. Ms Chittock had the same hairstyle she still wore. She blew a large red bubble from her gum. Professor Sinistra popped it and made her smile for the picture, unaware that it was already being taken. Crouch Jr was laughing as they fought over what sort of mood they were trying to capture in the photograph and couldn't hold the pose, either. It was the only planned photograph in a wall of candids. Astoria knew the happiness in these photographs had been snuffed like smoke from flame, leaving its scent hovering with every household draft.
One other photograph caught her attention before she left. In fact, it startled her. It was an image of the stage of the Wizarding Wireless Network building in Hogsmeade, which was only a few blocks down. Hestia's mistake of a haircut was obvious even though the photograph was taken from far away. Astoria stepped forward to see the tiny faces of her friends. It was their first concert, from the February of their fourth year. She never would have guessed Professor Sinistra had taken her time for something like that, and it touched her deeply. The professor had pretended she hadn't seen it, too, likely so Astoria wouldn't feel embarrassed. How could she ever forget when she started singing off-cue, and when Dolores Umbridge banned all Pariah content the day after…?
In the moving photo, a pale hand suddenly obscured the view of the stage. It pointed at Rhiannon. There was a minute wiggle of the camera, and Professor Sinistra's hand entered the scene, gently pushing the other out of the way of the lens. Given the angle of the hands, the professor was nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with her companion. Her fingers curled familiarly over the white, knobbly hand, which withdrew at total ease. Astoria studied this picture until her head and stomach hurt. That wasn't Glenda's hand.
Astoria found some clothes on the fifth floor that she would not have to bother Professor Sinistra to hem. It made her feel less short to not need them hemmed, though the longer she explored the house alone, the tinier she felt. She did not want to go back downstairs and was sure that her generous host would not mind if she took a peek in the home observatory on the top floor. She felt happier than she had in such a long time as she thought of using telescopes with Professor Sinistra that night. But the door to the observatory was locked with a long code in Ancient Runes that Astoria didn't dare crack without permission. When she turned to descend the turret's staircase, she discovered that she had been trapped in.
Instead of sharing a landing with the main stairway, the spiral now descended only into an empty linen closet lying on its side. Astoria could have assumed the worst — that she had freed every boggart during her snooping and they had now converged upon her sense of deception — or she could have assumed that Professor Sinistra absentmindedly remodelled again. Astoria decided to go with the latter. She attempted to call for Winky, but it did not work. She was not the master of the house; she was a girl standing up to her knees in a sideways linen closet. Without any faith in the professor's ability to hear her from so far up, Astoria decided to try the code on the door.
She had only earned an Acceptable on the Ancient Runes O.W.L., but her confidence trickled in when she was able to discern the password when given plenty of time (and without the pressure of her parents). It was a clever, vault-like spell, and she dragged her wand to the appropriate runes. They shimmered in blue, knotted into a ball, and exploded back into place once the door swung open.
The observatory was surprisingly simple, but Astoria knew the professor had Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts mostly to herself. Before taking that job, this little turret had once held the professor's most prized technology. Her research library and office space was down a ramp below. Again, it was smaller than the library she kept at Hogwarts, but still captivating. Being trapped didn't feel as potent in a room like this, but Astoria did prefer to make it out before Professor Sinistra would find out about her unsolicited exploring. That did not stop her from exploring the space she was already in, though. Professor Sinistra had a cushioned bulletin board, crisscrossed with ribbon to hold notes, Polaris Magazine editing deadlines, and newspaper clippings. Everything there was current save for two notes in the top corner:-
"I moved your study to the other end of the seventh floor so I won't be so tempted to bother you and interrupt your work. –A."
"Your efforts are futile, Aurora. I moved my study into the turret so we can bother each other all the time. I also have snacks if you want. Look down! I'm right below you! –J."
Astoria looked down as well, since she needed a way out. She didn't see any stairwell or opening like so many areas of the house had. But there had to be something right below her still. Professor Sinistra obviously had made a hobby of moving rooms, but she wouldn't have changed something that was part of a cherished memory. Nor would she have made her observatory inaccessible.
Oh, it's a hatch!
Astoria accidentally stubbed her toes on the handle instead of pulling it, but it led her in the right direction. There was no ladder, but a small self-operated lift that was more akin to a dumbwaiter. She shimmied in.
"Descendo," Astoria said, and the lift took her down to Crouch Jr's office.
The room was a fantastic example of Professor Sinistra's commitment to preservation. Yes, the articles in the room were all from their younger days, but the perpetuation of the room really set in when Astoria saw what she would call strategic dust. For dust was nonexistent except in the places dust would accumulate during Crouch's occupancy: books on top shelves and the tops of globes used only as decoration. Professor Sinistra deliberately left the same things dusty that her husband would have left dusty. She had cleaned the rest religiously. Astoria felt just as weird to be studying the dust patterns so intently as to realise what was going on.
There was a large circular window by the stair in which a few more amulets hung, but there was otherwise no intrusion to the academic décor. Astoria stared at the couple's wedding photograph on the wall and became unexpectedly angry. Freshly seventeen years old, and Professor Sinistra had had all of her future peace robbed from her.
Look at this crazy house, Astoria glared at the groom in the picture. Look at this country you ruined.
Barty Crouch Jr only looked back at her as the happiest man in the world, uncomprehending of his own selfish evil. The amazing witch at his side had been a widow for far longer than she had been a wife. It was cruel. Astoria had a pretty good idea of how to get back to the living area, but she sat on the steps to recover herself first. Legilimency was impossible in the house, but Professor Sinistra would see distress all over her face.
Escapees of Azkaban were always Kissed unless someone intervened, but the hypothetical situation of Crouch surviving stirred in Astoria because he felt so present in the house. Astoria knew it wasn't true — she had seen his soul get sucked out of him through Sinistra's traumatic memories. Not to mention that she had felt his Confundus Charm leave her own body the night he had died for good. But what would have happened if Crouch Jr had not been Kissed? He would have gone back to Azkaban, but Voldemort had been breaking his followers out of that prison faster than they were coming in. Crouch Jr, an adoring and lonely minion, would have been no exception. What would Crouch do if given the chance to be truly free again? Would he give his wife half the understanding and dedication she had given him? Would he have any thought of Rhiannon, his favourite, yet Muggle-born, student? Would he risk his life to defy the master he worshipped?
The loving smile in the photograph predictably said yes, but his track record said otherwise. Astoria had seen Crouch Jr enough in Professor Sinistra's memories to pity his life and his fate, but he had left stains too large to be given so much reverence in these walls. Professor Sinistra would have done better to condense the house normally, throw out the man's socks and aftershave, and foster the friendships she did have.
Astoria successfully descended and found Professor Sinistra casting spells on the ceiling and floor, which had been the cause of Astoria's adventure.
"Professor, the observatory's been blocked off."
"Oh, I thought I'd done something wrong with that extra closet," she replied.
There was no good use for many of the closets in the house except to place more junk. They could just as easily have been Vanished as rearranged, but Astoria kept her opinions about the state of the house to herself. Later, the professor made a cake. It was wonderful, but Astoria recommended they eat it in one of the book-filled lounges upstairs. The heavy perfume on the main level was taking away the flavour of the cake, and quite frankly, it also sometimes stunk of very dirty laundry or something. Astoria didn't mention that that was why she wanted to move, and the professor said nothing that indicated she had taken offense.
"So," Professor Sinistra eased into a hard subject as they were eating dessert, "did you know that Hogwarts attendance is compulsory for half-bloods and pure-bloods this year?"
Astoria covered her mouth with her napkin to try to hide her expression.
"Alecto said I would be going to school. I was grateful for it because I thought it'd get me out of the hotel. I didn't know I would have to go once I was, erm, away from her."
"I wish I could give you more options, Astoria, but trying to escape the new rules is more likely to get us killed."
Astoria knew plenty about how escape attempts turned out and listened helplessly to the news that all Muggle-borns had to be registered with the government and turn in their wands. She already knew they could not come to school, but perhaps that was to their benefit, as Death Eaters would be running Hogwarts. To be wandless, though… To lose your job and become homeless, always wondering when the Death Eaters would come to kill you…
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Astoria asked.
"No. I don't want you doing anything. You'll lose your life. Leave it to the Order of the Phoenix. If they can't do anything, neither can you. Do you understand?"
Professor Sinistra's eyes were cold and hard, making Astoria realise once more that she might have trekked the country with an Obliviated Death Eater, but she was still fifteen. The professor had taken the stance that Astoria wasn't going to die on her watch. It was the right thing for an adult to do, but it wasn't how Astoria wanted to be treated.
"Let me have your Foe-Glass piece, and I will make it into a bracelet for you. Keep it hidden in your sleeves, but don't take it off."
Astoria retrieved the little shard and watched Professor Sinistra's craftwork. She was fast at weaving, and even though she had made it clear this was not to be worn ornamentally, she used shades of blue and green that Astoria liked and added in a few glass beads to make it pretty. Astoria hoped she never gave the professor the impression that she always had to have expensive jewellery on. This item was priceless.
Hey, Flora, Hestia? Astoria thought before bed as though praying to them. We can't do anything to help. Please don't get hurt trying. That goes for you too, Theodore.
Draco wouldn't even entertain the idea of helping the right side, though, would he?
The following Monday, with school only a week away, Professor Sinistra had gone to the shops that were still open in Diagon Alley to get Astoria's school supplies. Astoria and Winky were alone in the house for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes, and Professor Sinistra would be back to check on them whether she had all the school supplies or not. Astoria was capable of watching the house for twenty minutes.
Astoria opened only a sliver of the front curtains to watch the dementors that patrolled Hogsmeade's borders for Harry Potter. However, they would take anybody they could, so she made sure Professor Sinistra left safely. She did, but Astoria lingered at the window. She pressed her hand to the glass to try to find a difference between her sadness and what lurked outside. Two dementors were floating toward each other on their patrol. Astoria knew they were eyeless, but she expected one to move out of the other's way. On the contrary, they tried to pass through each other. They were not immaterial, and they were not spirits, so the exchange seemed to cause some distress on their black-cloaked bodies. They pulled away from one another only with tension. Black gossamer stretched thin and tore at bodily seams unknown. It looked painful enough to make Astoria feel sadistic for watching. The myriad nazar and hamsa eyes, in turn, watched her, as though she had become the evil force the house needed protection against.
It would soon rain. Astoria let go of the curtain slowly to hide the inside of the house from everything out there. In the hallway by the main stair, the lamplight came through the twigwork banisters to make spiderweb lines all over the wall. She walked over to look at the paintings in the hallway, as there was little else to do alone. The natural landscapes depicted were vibrantly coloured and vaguely distorted from the artist's obvious intent of realism. Astoria could not tell whether the paintings were multiple attempts of the same scene or a series of slightly different paintings. But she knew whose brush had done the work and leaned against the stair to study his mind's pictures in the dimness. Indigo skies met bloodstained autumn leaves. The stream beneath the trees ran ice-white and rough. Each tree had sigils carved into it, a pretentious message from the artist Astoria did not care to decipher. She placed her hand on one of the paintings and felt the canvas bend against the frame.
She clearly remembered the feeling of Barty Crouch's Confundus Charm leaving her on the night he passed on. She also remembered that he had passed on so quickly due to his deep, existential unhappiness and trauma from his father. Most people were in dementors' guts much longer than his soul had been. The thought of the creatures outside being able to attack her family drew her into perfect despair. Being separated from her family took on a whole new meaning if any dementor reached them. They had led extremely happy lives that any dementor would be happy to feed on for decades. She could not grasp the entirety of that fear. She kept thinking back to how Professor Sinistra had visited her husband's soul by sitting next to the dementor that had taken him. What if Astoria had had to do that for her parents, her sister, her friends?
And how long would my own soul nourish a dementor? she wondered.
As her life was going, probably only thirty minutes, give or take.
Astoria was sitting on the staircase, idly scratching Winky's ears when rain began to stream against the stained glass windows. With the rain, the air in the house became stuffy. The heavy herbal scent and the funk of the dusty hoarding piles were less tolerable than usual. There was another hint Astoria could not have grown accustomed to no matter how long she stayed, though. It smelt of rubbish, spoiled food, or even a dead rat hidden amongst the professor's junky piles. Something, somewhere in the mess reeked awfully. Astoria had known it from day one, but had said nothing for fear of embarrassing her host or distressing Winky. Astoria gently lifted Winky off her lap and walked up only one level, away from the cloud. The funk was still too pronounced there for her not to say something about it when the professor came home. It must have been coming from the basement. Perhaps moisture had got in.
"Where is Miss Astoria going?" Winky peeped. "Winky doesn't want her getting lost when Madam Aurora is aways."
"It was a bit dank in that room with the rain, that's all. I wanted to sit up here if you don't mind," Astoria responded.
"Winky promises she does her very best to clean! Winky can't find that bad smell, or she'd clean it up!" she yelped.
Winky scurried about the sitting area below, ever so carefully lifting up the top layers of junk piles. She opened up the drawers of the overflowing side-tables by the sofa. Nothing. She even lifted the sofa's cushions in search of any food that could have fallen between and grown mouldy. As Winky searched, Astoria tried to evade what hung in the air. It hadn't been this bad before. Something about the draughtiness caused by the storm must have been blowing the stench upward. But Winky, the house-elf, couldn't find the source?
"It's not your fault, Winky. Maybe it's between the walls. You know, she moves walls in here quite a bit. Perhaps a rat got trapped. There would be no way you could find something like that."
"Winky never saw rats! Winky keeps all vermin out of the house very good, she does!"
Astoria did not take Winky's word for it. After all, she had seen the little house-elf drunk and disconsolate when working at Hogwarts. She had not meant to make Winky defensive, but she guessed Winky was proud of the few things she was allowed to clean around the hoarding. Something, a small mouse even, could have crawled into any one of these piles and Winky would have missed it. Professor Sinistra, rather than actually dig through her collection, simply covered it up with perfume. Gross.
Astoria looked down toward the entrance hall, waiting for Professor Sinistra to return. It had only been five minutes since she left, but the solitude was already over Astoria's shoulders.
Was it solitude?
No, Winky was there.
Astoria would have to complain of the smell when Professor Sinistra got home. Gently. She would pretend this was the first time she had smelled it. She practised in her head:-
Professor, something smells, but I couldn't figure out what it is. I think it might be in the basement. Perhaps a rat? I just noticed it when it started raining.
It wasn't that old of a house, so the idea of a pipe bursting was a stretch. This wasn't a Muggle place like that godforsaken hotel had been, either. Pipes didn't just leak unless there was a severe magical failing. But with all of the professor's "remodelling," it wasn't impossible. Why did she move the rooms round so much, though? It created problems like this. It had made the place a maze. As if the hoarding hadn't done it, the ever-changing layout of the house made it difficult to find anything. Astoria glanced down at the door again, only because she was alone. Professor Sinistra was due to come home in roughly fifteen minutes. It would be fine. Astoria covered her nose and walked back downstairs to be with Winky. She tripped on Crouch's freshly polished shoes and cussed. She couldn't ask what good it did to keep things like this, since she herself cherished the small items her family had left behind. Yet she could have asked a lot of other things about the house.
Astoria didn't know why she was getting so worked up about being alone here, though. Quennell Park was probably larger than all of the additions to this house combined, not to mention it was surrounded by woods instead of civilisation. Maybe it was because Quennell Park never smelled like something had died in it. It was bright and roomy, and best of all, the rooms stayed right where they had been built. At least that was how Astoria preferred to remember her home. Not the way the roots had crept through the floorboards to bring the bodies of Death Eaters to the earth below.
Unwillingly picturing what she had not quite witnessed made her shake. Everything about that night at Quennell Park had complicated her desire to survive and her wish to die. The events were awful, but the bodies gave her such a horrid imagination. Her enemies, bleeding and being pulled into the earth. Her cold, stiff relatives transfigured into flowers. Her home had been filled with bodies, and it was all she could think of now. Every rumble of thunder was becoming a noise to beware, a Death Eater's spell bellowing in her manor. She could no longer conceive time or how long it would be until the professor came home. But she didn't want her to come home anymore. She wanted to see what reeked in this house without interference. She needed to know what was being kept below.
Astoria held her nose and mouth with one hand and her wand in the other. Breaking into the sublevel of the home was frowned upon, of course, so when she dived for it, Winky panicked.
"MISS ASTORIA, WHAT IS YOU DOING?" came the shrill cry, but if Winky was going to interfere, she would also see it, and she would never recover. Astoria, terrified and wand-happy, bewitched the elf asleep to save her the trauma of seeing the source of the smell.
With a spell not quite meant for the task, Astoria began to pry up the heavy floorboards. She found only more layers of flooring, and beneath those, support beams. The smell coming up through the cracks was horrible. Astoria knew it would be after all this time. She began to hear something like scratching, but she again told herself it was her imagination. Surely, Crouch wasn't an Inferius. There was no way the professor would do that…
You're dead. Be quiet, Astoria begged the body below as the sweat dripped down her forehead. It's okay — I'm only hearing things because I'm afraid.
She started to wrench the sublevel flooring up. The boards snapped louder than the thunder outside, but whatever was down there would not hurt her, no matter how awful it would look. There couldn't have been an Inferius. Maybe Professor Sinistra had really cracked and was hiding her husband's body from her, but he was just a body. There was no Inferius, right? Astoria could just turn the body into a flower like Theodore had done for her loved ones. Then she could run away, and she would never have to talk about it again. She would never have to confront Professor Sinistra about it — she was going to find a way to leave the country this time if it killed her.
"Lumos!" Astoria gasped, casting far down into the pit she had created to view the basement.
The spot she had lit had something moving. She moved the light of her wand only to find glistening white and green masses, like eggs covered in slime. Fear overtook her heartbeat, and she clenched her chest in pain. The smell came up like an exhumed coffin and sent her backwards. But the moment she realised that Crouch's body had never been down there was the moment she saw Professor Sinistra's feet coming in the door. Astoria dropped on her knees and covered her face in shame.
"Riddikulus!" the professor shouted.
Astoria jolted at the sound of a crack. She fell silent to the bone, unable to think properly.
Note: The interior of Professor Sinistra's house was inspired by the Winchester Mystery House.