Book 4: Astoria Greengrass and the Curse of Quennell Park
Song rec: "Your Love is Killing Me" by Sharon van Etten
Notes: The issue of stalking is covered in this story. To learn more about stalking resources, I would suggest searching "stalking law [your country/district]".
The content of the Howler letters was reworked into Wizard-y language, and made more violent, based on serial text messages I received from an ex ages ago, not long after I started a fanfic that became part 1 of this series. Granted, she's not the sole inspiration for Rabastan's character. He has lots going on. There are several not-so-sunny personal themes in this fanfic as a whole, and it's been therapeutic for me. I understand that it may be just the opposite to some readers, especially in the upcoming story arc, so I am reposting the content warnings here. Thanks for reading!
Violence (family death, child abuse, stalking, physical torture, eye injury, mentioned bird death, sexual harassment, implied failed attempt of sexual assault, kidnapping, blood)
Self-harm (manipulative threats of self-harm, genuine self-harm [i.e., compulsive scrubbing], suicide)
Adult themes/content (sexuality, enmeshment, trauma bonding, symptoms of Stockholm syndrome, moral ambiguity, severe hoarding, war & abuse trauma, bigotry & prejudice, strong language)
Astoria rubbed her eyes after reading the fourth volume of Legilimency in Practice, which she had not finished last year. Professor Sinistra had kept it from her for unknown (but probably Alecto-related) reasons, and finally gave it to her in late November to finish. Even though it was not intended to be, the fourth volume was the last full book in the series. It was excruciating to get through, since the book had plenty of Occlumency itself. Astoria gave up for the evening and walked up Astronomy Tower, greeting the Bloody Baron on her ascent.
As far as Astoria's own Occlumency, she had been pushing herself to hide her performance of Dark magic from Professor Sinistra. Yet when she was helping the Professor prepare equipment for the younger students, Astoria realised that her attempts at Occlumency had not worked. Professor Sinistra discovered that she and Draco often practised duelling with Dark magic. It was one of the proudest accomplishments Astoria had, but it wasn't something she could openly share.
Professor Sinistra made a moment's eye contact with Astoria and balled up her cornrows into a bun before hunching over an astrolabe. Astoria was making sure the alidades tilted smoothly, but she was on edge about what the professor might say and fumbled with the equipment in the way that would make the professor cringe. Astoria felt a chill behind her ear and turned back to Professor Sinistra.
"Have I set so terrible an example for you, Astoria?" she murmured rhetorically.
The snow outside turned to sleet and gently tapped the windows. No one trusted Astoria to do anything right, especially by way of doing something wrong. At least Professor Sinistra wasn't currently sitting her down and staring at her. She was busy cutting large pieces of parchment for the students.
"Is it your fear? Your sense of inefficacy?" the professor questioned. "What turned you to the Arts?"
Astoria was dumbfounded that Professor Sinistra had no words of scorn on her tongue. She remembered a time when she had been angry at the professor for opening up the world of Legilimency to her when it was considered Dark by many. Back then, Astoria had thought herself so innocent, yet here she was.
"Well, I am afraid," Astoria admitted. "Why should I have to rely on charms from my third year when Amycus has an arsenal of magic older than the English language?"
"I never said you should have to," Professor Sinistra responded.
Astoria cast a Heating Charm on each of the windows to melt the sleet on the outside.
"If you don't mind… what turned you to the Arts, Professor?" she asked without looking at her.
"Nothing noble, for by that point, I had no one to protect. I felt entitled to become what everyone thought of me anyway. Would you care to help me clear the sky, dear?"
Astoria bit the inside of her cheek. She had not expected the abrupt change in subject and felt the need to justify herself further.
"Er, Professor…"
"I'm neither going to reassure nor condone you," Professor Sinistra said ascetically. "I don't believe you should pursue the Arts, but I'm a hypocrite. How could I tell you to 'do as I say, not as I do?' You're old enough to make your own choices. At least this blasted war has made you old enough."
She did not wait for Astoria to climb to the top of the tower and go out to the winter. Astoria drew her robes and followed her, helping her fight heavy snow clouds before nightfall. Up there in the wind, the witches were painfully aware of the five dementors floating round the pinnacles, preventing any ideas of broom flight. The dementors were high, and their presence was seen more than felt, but Astoria asked if she could practise her Patronus before they went back inside.
"What a silly question, dear."
On account of not being near the wraiths, Astoria did not have much trouble casting her Patronus. She knew that if she were closer, though, it would probably be incorporeal, and if she grew frightened, it might not work at all.
"Professor McGonagall was understandably shaken after seeing the dementor Kiss Jonah," Professor Sinistra said solemnly. "I admit we can't bring ourselves to talk to each other, but I hear she can now cast multiple Patronuses. It is nearly unheard of. She must have worked tirelessly for the sake of the students. I would do the same if I could, Astoria."
The professor's hands were folded in her sleeves, and the light from Astoria's Patronus seemed not to reach her eyes beneath her heavy lashes. Astoria wondered if the professor might actually be seeking reassurance from her.
"I know you would, Professor," she said, trying to set her jaw with some authority.
In that moment, even though she knew it was not so, she felt closer to a respected equal than a hapless student. She had always seen Professor Sinistra as someone to impress, though, and that would never change, even when the professor needed a boost of confidence. She had instilled confidence one-thousand times over in Astoria. Without Professor Sinistra's belief in her, Astoria would have fallen further behind at school, slipped through the cracks of her magical education, and ultimately died when the Death Eaters attacked Quennell Park. It might have seemed like a dramatic way to interpret the witch's influence on her, but Astoria knew it was true. Her skills never would have blossomed without someone believing in her.
"You've done everything for me," Astoria said, her breath showing in the cold night.
Professor Sinistra's eyes traced a smooth pursuit of the dementors above.
"There were times when the thought of you waiting for my class to start kept me going, Astoria. I would picture you unfolding your maps and wondering where I was with as much detail as I could. And that kept me."
The meaning of Professor Sinistra's words cut through Astoria worse than anything the dementors above could ever hope to do.
"Professor, I…" Astoria mustered. "I know this isn't the same, but I felt… When I was left alone at Quennell Park, I felt, you know, it wouldn't matter either way if I lived or… well, I know it's not the same, I'm sorry…"
"Please come to me if you ever feel that way again, Astoria," she said sincerely.
"You too, Professor," Astoria said, but her voice seemed to shrink and be robbed of power in the greater witch's presence.
Professor Sinistra drew her long sleeves to her face. She made no sound. Astoria considered walking her Patronus closer to her to help her feel better, but at some deeper level, she understood that the professor needed to express tears naturally.
"I know Alecto had you all reading that Skeeter book, and I know it upset you, Astoria. Dumbledore's memory is what keeps many fighting on the right side in this war, and to have that memory tarnished has affected people greatly. When he was very young, Dumbledore was involved with someone who would later become a Dark wizard. He buried this part of his past thoroughly, but he unearthed it, for me, when Jonah was first incarcerated. I was nineteen, and I felt that no one would ever understand me. Dumbledore understood. He had the same feelings of shame and betrayal that I did. Dumbledore was not an evil man. I'd like to think I am not so evil, either."
"You're not evil at all! What a silly thing to say, Professor!" Astoria reassured, but she felt unhelpful in the scope of the professor's distress. Professor Sinistra had always been so important to her, though she was more like family now than ever. Astoria had once thought it pitiable that Rhiannon had relied so closely on her teachers in the absence of any family. How wrong she had been. Family need not be bonded by blood.
"M-May I join you for Christmas?" Astoria asked, and the smile she received back broke through myriad layers of shell and shroud.
Before the Christmas holidays, the Slytherins represented the largest group of students still allowed to go to Hogsmeade. Many members of Dumbledore's Army had been identified due to their various antics and rescue missions, and they had had more than just Hogsmeade privileges revoked. Astoria sometimes wished she were fighting alongside them properly, although she could not shake the attitude that they were reckless and stupid. For what it was worth, Astoria's lack of overt resistance won her another date with Draco in Hogsmeade, and she took what she could get. Seeing Draco's idea of fashionable winter hats was a special kind of joy. They sat outside the not-so-romantic Hog's Head whilst Hestia swindled the Death Eaters inside with antiemetic potions that had a convenient side-effect of making one hanker for the taste of more potion.
"I was going to buy you outrageously expensive jewellery for Christmas since that's been my concept of girls from birth," Draco joked. "That's niffler-ish behaviour, now that I think about it. 'Give her something shiny.'"
"I do enjoy jewellery, but there are more important things," Astoria said, gently swinging his hands.
"Well, this is our first Christmas together, so I wanted to do something special," he stalled the reveal of the gift.
"It doesn't feel like our first, does it?" she reminisced.
Draco's nose and ears turned bright red against his pale face and the snow surrounding them. He presented her with a small box covered in red wrapping paper that had a shimmering snowflake pattern. When Astoria shook the box, the snowflakes on the wrapping paper became real and gently fell to the ground. She felt her blush betray her when she opened the box; Draco had placed an Undetectable Extension Charm on it and packed it full.
"It has everything I thought you'd be tired of going without," he said.
Even though some of the gifts hinted at the tragedy she had gone through (hair potions and fuzzy socks she normally would have had), she was so grateful to have these items because they had been bought with care. The box was also packed with sweets and snacks. She was relieved that everything was within reason, since she had only been able to scrounge for things that were free for him. She had made him a whole case's worth of raspberryade and fruit ciders in the Potions laboratory with her roommates. She had also prepared squares of parchment with craft spells to work as origami paper, since that had been one of his quirky hobbies before everything went to the dogs. The fun of it was that Draco could fold the paper into animals, and they would speak the messages secretly charmed inside the paper. She tried to include a combination of dirty jokes and exceedingly lame groaners. Draco was completely delighted and tried one out, folding it into a frog.
"Do you know that eating flies will help you finish your homework sooner?" the frog croaked.
"And why is that?" Draco asked the frog in his hand, looking up at Astoria.
"Time's fun when you're having flies!" said the frog, and it leapt out of his hand to go terrorise others with its joke.
"That was terrible, Astoria," Draco laughed. "Also, I have a confession."
He drew a small box from his pocket, and Astoria put her hand on her forehead.
"Oh, no, Draco! No, you—"
"I'm a niffler. I couldn't overcome it. I had to present you with something shiny."
It was a beautiful hair ornament to be worn on the back of the head. It depicted one of the more complicated shapes of balsam flowers, and it had a glittering magical spiderweb between the two floral pieces that would drape over clamped hair. Astoria was amazed at its uniqueness and thanked him sincerely. She would have taken off her hat for it if not for the cold, which he perfectly understood.
"Draco, really, I'd get you anything in the world if I could," she said embarrassedly.
"Stop that. I did this because I wanted to. Plus, I'm still fascinated with that cursed Snitch you got for me."
"The whole point was that it wasn't cursed!" Astoria insisted, and he poked her on the nose.
"You know, one day I'd like your room to be filled with things from me," he said. "If I run out of ideas, I'll resort to getting you more gross sweets."
"If you would try a sugared violet," she said dramatically.
Without warning, Draco drew his wand, Shrunk all their gifts into his pockets, Levitated her into his arms, and started running down High Street.
"Where are we going?" she shrieked as she held on for dear life. "You should have charmed my weight lighter to carry me like this!"
"I'm trying to be tough, Astoria. Let me have my moment," he grinned against the top of her head.
He slowed down towards the end of the street and set her back on her feet again. She fixed his scarf and coat.
"Oh dear," she said as she followed the line of his gaze to a huge, fluffy snow pile.
"According to the Ministry, I'm responsible enough to Apparate and own property. Thus, I would never do as childish an activity as jumping into snow," he said, sticking his cold red nose in the air. "Plus, I'm a gentleman. Ladies first."
The snow was rudely tempting. It stood as tall as Astoria's elbows. She could jump into it effortlessly and use the Hot-Air Charm to warm away any regrets.
"What's holding you back?" Draco teased. "Would you like an Impervius Charm on your clothes?"
"Impervius Charms are for losers," Astoria said, and she jumped into the cold snow.
It got past her scarf and on her face and neck, which was very cold, but it had been an unshakable opportunity. Draco jumped next to her and lost his hat. She scattered some powdery snow onto the top of his head, and he shook it off with a shiver. He smacked his hand onto the snow, sending it flying upwards onto her, and they soon broke into a snowball fight.
Then Draco left for home the next night, and Astoria couldn't sleep. He had been happy. He had been right there by her side and happy, and now he was gone. Christmas holiday with Voldemort in his house… it was too dire to imagine.
Flora and Hestia had their own flavour of nightmare awaiting them at the holiday; Astoria had to spend her last afternoon in the castle "decontaminating" the Muggle Studies classroom with one-half of the problem. Flora and Hestia were cleaning the Dark Arts classroom with the other half.
"I clean every night, but I want it extra clean for when term starts back up," said Alecto, wringing her hands as she watched Astoria walk to the back of the room to Scour the desks.
Astoria didn't humour her with a response. She just did what she was told to avoid any curses.
"That's… that's a lovely hairpiece," said Alecto after silence.
Astoria watched the witch over her shoulder and kept cleaning desks that were not dirty.
"What is it, purple rubies?"
Astoria blinked away the soapy sting of the charm bubbling up in the air.
"Yeah."
"I've a pair of opal hatpins."
Astoria moved to the next row of desks and whispered, "Scourgify."
"I cried when I got 'em because they were much too good a gift. I had nothing good enough to wear 'em with," Alecto told the wall. "Nowhere to wear them to. I — I put 'em in a thin vase just so I could see and appreciate them. I'd absolutely no excuse for gettin' a gift that nice."
Alecto shook her head and choked back tears. The ability to have a normal conversation was in there somewhere, bottled underneath striped layers of rainbow sand that aren't pretty once they mix.
"Well, this doesn't go with my uniform at all," Astoria said, moving to the next desk.
Alecto snorted a small laugh. It only lasted a second, but the sound seemed to hang for several minutes.
"You don't have a home to go to for Christmas no more," said Alecto.
"Scourgify," whispered Astoria.
"If you stayed at school, your parents would wonder where you were, right? They'd send you an owl."
Astoria looked up but didn't play along. Alecto was swinging her feet as she sat atop her desk.
"We didn't ever get owls from our Mum and Dad. Just Grandmother. Well, fourth year, I said, let's see what happens if we don't come home for the holiday. If they'll write us."
Astoria dried the next desk and said the next part first, "They didn't write."
Alecto bit her lip once her sentence was filled.
"That had to be hard," Astoria added, and Alecto wiped the shock out of her eyes.
"Grandmother didn't write either, because she was losin' her mind towards the end and didn't know it was December. Couldn't string the words together much by then. And when — when we was back in a couple months anyway — for good — she thought it was winter holiday then. And I — I couldn't tell her. Because she still loved us."
Alecto rubbed her arms with the ghost of her grandmother's hug. She started Scouring the desks, not to help Astoria with the mandated chore, but to have something to do besides ruminate. Astoria had no problem with that, thinking she would get out of this room sooner with two people on the job. That was until they met in the middle and ended up at the same desk. Alecto studied Astoria like she was an insect in a jar.
"Come home with us tonight for the holiday."
Astoria's swallow was dry. She opened her mouth, but Alecto kept piling on words:-
"Flora and Hestia would like it."
"I—"
"We have the room. Won't be like the hotel."
Astoria shook her head, "I—"
"Ain't good to be in the castle alone."
"I'm—"
"You're not going home with Malfoy, are you? That'll be worse. Don't do that."
"I'm not."
Alecto's Scouring spell had got out of control, and the suds and water rolled off the desk and onto her shoes. She shook her foot.
"…You got other plans, Astoria?"
"I'm already going home with somebody."
The suds piled up to Astoria's shoes and wettened her socks.
"It's Sinistra… She mothers you," Alecto's voice roiled round the words.
Astoria wiped the floor as quickly as she could and scuttled to the door.
"Not a good idea to stay with her either, Astoria," said Alecto.
It took Professor Sinistra ten minutes to undo all of the protective enchantments on her house to get inside, and five minutes to put them all back, so when Snape came calling, she made an exasperated groan. Astoria was sitting on Uncle Faunus's suitcase, holding the cage with the Doppelvanga on her lap. It was one of the few places to sit that wasn't a pile of newspapers, but it wasn't even, and the bird was shifting and fluttering his wings. Astoria set him on the floor and glared into the entrance hall. She was offended that Snape would visit. After being her Head of House for three years, Snape now ignored his students at all costs and played the role of a devoted Death Eater. Astoria had once cried on the wizard's shoulder; now she wanted to spit in his eye.
"Why would you let him in?" Astoria snapped as she watched Professor Sinistra unthread the house's enchantments again.
"He would not come without good cause," the professor said firmly.
"You were the one who told me not to make excuses for him."
"That is so you don't get comfortable at school, since he can no longer be a source of help to you," Professor Sinistra said, and she got the door unlocked.
Snape strode through the threshold with a shake in his shoulders. He removed his snow-speckled hat, but not his cloak. His dark eyes scanned the room that Professor Sinistra and Astoria had barely had a chance to light.
"What a mess," Snape scoffed.
"WHAT A MESS! WHAT A MESS!" called the Doppelvanga excitedly.
Snape sneered at the bird, and, for the hundredth time since school had started, ignored Astoria's existence.
"Our Doppelvanga thinks 'What A Mess' is your name, Severus," Professor Sinistra grinned, and Snape sighed.
"Where might I find a place in here to sit?"
"The kitchen is fairly clean, you know," Professor Sinistra said pointedly.
Snape tripped over Crouch's shoes on his way down the entrance hall, but Professor Sinistra charmed the shoes right back into place rather than help Snape recover from the tumble. They went into the kitchen, and it did not take long for Astoria to realise that they had cast an Imperturbable Charm on the room so that she wouldn't hear their conversation. Astoria doubted it had been Professor Sinistra's idea, since she knew how much Astoria hated her world being censored.
She watched the Doppelvanga preen its shimmering gold and fluffy cerulean feathers. He wasn't fond of his small travelling cage since his long tail feathers curled on the bottom, but Astoria would have had to go through the kitchen to put him in his bigger cage.
"What a mess!" said the bird.
"Yeah, what a mess," said Astoria.
"Rabbystan," said the bird after another moment in a nasally imitation of Snape.
"What?"
"Whot? Whot?" mimicked the bird in Astoria's voice.
Astoria studied the Doppelvanga closely. His head cocked all over rapidly, and he tilted his body toward the kitchen. Astoria understood: the Imperturbable Charm did not affect the bird! She remained perfectly quiet to try to get snippets of the conversation blocked to her ears with magic.
"Rabbystan, Rabbystan," said the bird in Snape's voice again.
Rabastan what?
"Dark Lord! Rabbystan."
Yes, what about them you silly bird?
"Imbeciles," squawked the bird in Professor Sinistra's voice.
Well, I know that part.
The Doppelvanga liked saying "imbeciles" and "what a mess" so much that Astoria wasn't able to get more of the conversation. She knew a Dark spell that would crack the Imperturbable Charm like glass, but decided not to cause trouble for Professor Sinistra. Snape eventually lifted the charm himself and strode out of the kitchen, minding Crouch's shoes this time.
"What a mess! What a mess!" called the bird.
Snape ignored the Doppelvanga and Astoria to the best of his ability and left the house. Whilst Professor Sinistra replaced the enchantments on the house, she considerately explained what had transpired in the kitchen.
"If the Howlers didn't give away the hint, Rabastan has been obsessing over me, and he has recently pleaded with Riddle to forcibly enlist me."
Professor Sinistra's calm tone impeded Astoria's onslaught of worry.
"Since I have Dark magic that might be useful, Riddle asked Severus to determine if I might yet regret my battle at Azkaban and champion the cause my husband died for. Well, seeing as I am a completely maladjusted, disconsolate widow on my downward spiral," Professor Sinistra said, advertising the state of her house with a wave of her arm, "Severus regretted to inform me that I'm not Death Eater material, and he's reporting my woeful instability to Riddle."
Astoria followed her subterfuge, but had one point of contention:-
"How will that work? The Lestranges are raving mad, and he uses them!"
"Oh, but Astoria, I can scarcely lift my wand for anything more than my class, right? How could I possibly be of use to the Dark Lord when it takes me three hours to get out of bed?" Professor Sinistra groaned dramatically, then tapped the side of her nose.
Professor Sinistra didn't celebrate a December holiday, but before Christmas Eve, she purchased a wily tree with a curlicue trunk at Dogweed and Deathcaps to decorate. Together, Astoria and the professor conjured blinking, glittering ornaments of all colours and shapes, and dangled them amongst the fingerlike branches. It was the funniest looking Christmas tree Astoria had ever seen. There wasn't a pointed tip at the top of the tree, so Astoria used a Sticking Charm (responsibly) to set a twinkling blue star on the crown of the leaves. She, Winky, and the professor prepared a nice dinner that evening and paid no mind to the patrolling Death Eaters outside.
Professor Sinistra doubled down on boggart-hunting in her house so that Astoria wouldn't have a nervous breakdown over one again, but even with the boggarts gone, there were worse things happening outside the house. When they had been at the school, Professor Sinistra could see the daily Howlers from Rabastan coming from a long distance away. With a few horribly memorable exceptions, the professor was able to quickly curse them and protect both herself and the rest of the school from hearing their content. Now that the owls were coming right outside the window, there was nothing that could be done without removing the protective enchantments, and that would have been more dangerous than the letters themselves. Without set delivery times, the letters came at terrible hours and rang throughout the whole yard. Sometimes, there were so many in succession that multiple owls were sent, and when Astoria recognised Draco's eagle owl being used for this purpose, her blood boiled, but she couldn't go outside to prevent the owl from rushing back to Malfoy Manor.
Rabastan's messages had the most twisted, counter-intuitive messages. Rabastan had never lived down the perceived slight of Professor Sinistra's romantic rejection, and by the time maturity and distance might have healed him, he had been thrown in prison, where he could mull on it every day he saw her visit her similarly incarcerated husband. Inexplicably, Rabastan seemed to be stuck between wanting to be intimately involved with Professor Sinistra and wanting to kill her. Professor Sinistra did the right thing by not replying to Rabastan and feeding his flame, but that didn't make the Howlers stop. The night before school would start up again, Rabastan sent no fewer than six Howlers. Astoria could not sleep because the Howlers made it sound like Rabastan himself was hovering outside the windows. One letter screeched:-
"I know why you're not replying, Aurora. You're in love with some patsy again. Is it another Barty replacement like Snape was? I hear. I watch. I know. You don't give a damn about me. Honestly, you're not worth any of what I've done to myself. You're not worth a thing. With the way you treat me now, you're not worth it one bit. I gave up too much for you to be in this position right now. You haven't sent me a single letter since I got out of prison. You didn't send me a single letter when I was in prison. Rodolphus got dozens of letters each day from witches who wanted him. Rodolphus was big and strong and handsome. What was I? I was nothing.
I guess you're avoiding me from now on. Or, rather, perhaps you're laughing away staring at these Howlers thinking 'ha ha ha I wonder what he's thinking since I'm not writing him back!' or something of the sort? You're so selfish. I don't give a fuck what you say or don't say. I don't give a fuck when you think this isn't love. I know what love is. You never really stop completely loving someone. Did you ever love me? I was never good enough anyway. You took so much of my time I can't get back.
I have to admit, I'll be so lonely without you. You were the only person I ever felt desire for, and I used to think about you twenty-four/seven. To be honest, I still do. I hate you. I'm starting anew and, this time, without you involved."
Rabastan's declaration that he was moving on was unfortunately empty, as only minutes later, Astoria heard another Howler come in.
"I'm sorry for blowing up at you. Today's been awful... seriously, fuck everything. Did all of my letters send throughout the fall term? Because you didn't reply to anything. I guess they must have… I got all this Howler paper for you. I've been thinking about who you must want now that your husband is dead-dead. Is it still Snape? You know what, don't even tell me who it is. I hear. I watch. I know. I don't care. Apparently, I keep waking Bella up with my 'hysterics' and she cursed me, and I bet that makes you happy. I bet you like my pain. I wish it was you cursing me, because I'd want to see the look in your eyes. Would that be the best way to get your attention? Do you hate me? I kind of hate you, Aurora. Forget kind of. I really, really do. Do you even care? Are you going to keep ignoring me? That'll just make me hate you more. You don't want that, trust me."
He took back that one, too, only to repeat himself.
"Aurora, I wrote that on impulse, so Merlin knows what's true now or not, but I assume most of it isn't! That's why I hate you — you're going to hold it against me even though I'm explaining it was on impulse! You hold everything against me except your perfect body! By the way, as far as my body goes, I've been having a ton of pain in my abdomen lately. You did this. Because I can't function without you. It's just like in school. You ignored me. I broke three quills in Transfiguration just trying to get your attention, but no, let's talk to Glenda about your amazing, soon-to-be date. What use is a dead man, Aurora? He's been dead over and over again. I'm alive. I never died. I'd work so nicely for you. Oh, by the way, I don't give a shit about the quills I broke. And I guess my falling ill is a good thing, since I can't possibly live like this. I'm stuck in a house that has nothing left for me, completely alone, on the verge of losing my mind. I'm so heartbroken. You don't know what it's like to be completely unattractive and unloved. I came into this world as an accident nine years after Rodolphus, so everybody already loved him, and nobody wanted me, and nobody ever ended up wanting me! Obviously, something is very fucked up with me because no one likes me! Fuck everything. I want to die, and when I do, it will be peace."
Rabastan's intent of revealing such a feeling soon became clear with his next Howler. He had meant it as a manipulation tactic.
"Aurora, I know you heard my Howler and you heard the pain in my voice. And you did nothing. You did nothing. I could have hurt myself, and you did nothing. Why don't you want me? I hate you so much I feel ill. I've been having palpitations. Damn it, I'm about to have my nightly breakdown about you so goodnight. I love you. I know you won't say it back. You prefer your men fucking dead! Would you like me if I were dead? Would you even miss me? No, you wouldn't, you liar!
Why do I even bother looking good now? I only ever cared if you thought I was attractive, but now it doesn't matter. I've been trying to wipe Azkaban off my face and gain some weight back from the dementors just so I could scoop you up in my arms. I'm not good enough.
What are you doing this weekend? I could give you a weekend you'd never forget. Can you please come see me tonight? Can you please stay overnight? I have my own space, they won't hear us… Wait, are you embarrassed? Would you be embarrassed about something like that? Is it only because it'd be with me? I bet you wouldn't be embarrassed if it was with somebody that wasn't me. I bet I could transfigure into a pretty convincing Barty if you'd be interested. It's not the same as Polyjuice Potion, so I won't have his stupid voice, but would you want me if I looked more like him? If you're going to make that kind of demand on me, I have to request that you fix your eyebrows. I don't like your eyebrows. It's like you don't even try. I also think you should do something else with your hair for a change. I don't think that this will work between us if you're not willing to keep up your appearance when I am clearly making the offer to change mine so drastically. Okay, maybe can I come to see you? I guess some time with you is better than none! I promise I won't hurt you! I won't hurt you. I want to, though! What if I promise to be good?"
For as ill as Rabastan claimed to be, it was Astoria who was growing genuinely nauseated, but still more Howlers exploded against the windows.
"You were being really bitchy about me to Snape. I hear. I watch. I know. I love you, though. I still love you. You're so awful for me. I don't know why I'm stupid enough to love you. This relationship isn't going to work if you don't talk to me, Aurora! It wouldn't work in the long term. I bet I would be shunned for getting with a filthy little blood-traitor. Well, sometimes I think it's that forbidden part of you that I want. Like I want to purify you and fix it, fix that broken part of you. You're very impure. I've seen you be unfaithful to your husband when you took a drink from Glenda's goblet before. It was our seventh year, too, and you were engaged. Drinking from someone's drink is indirect kissing. Indirect kissing. Didn't you know that? And you did that with a half-breed? Why would you dirty your perfect lips on half-bred, bloody vampire spit? Also, are you fucking deaf? You act like you don't hear any of my Howlers. I don't want a deaf, defective wife! So fuck off!"
Again, Rabastan changed his mind by the next Howler.
"Why do you ignore my letters like you think I'd hurt you? You're not deaf; you're just pretending you are! I really want you here with me right now, but what's the point if you don't want me. I guess you already know my feelings and don't need a reminder. Why didn't I realise it earlier, and not act selfishly, and end up losing the best thing that ever happened to me? Oh, I know. Because you never 'happened.'
Do you think I don't know why you didn't take your husband's name? It wasn't his stupid, dramatic gripes about his father's name — it was because you wanted me all along. I hated seeing Barty jump round like he's fucking king of the world. I don't give a fuck about him. You don't either. You'd take my name. I know you would, even though it would make it obvious what we really are. But it's like I'm not allowed to be intimate. Sometimes I really want to kill you, Aurora. Oh, I want you so bad. I'm so lonely tonight I can't bear it. Don't you ever think about me, just lying here all alone? No, probably not. I bet you're looking at the stars for the eight billionth, nine millionth, three-hundred thousandth and four-hundred fifty-second time. They're the fucking same, Aurora! You're a liar when you act like they're interesting! You need a real wizard for something interesting! I can be so, so, so, so interesting to you! I have killed thirty-nine people, and none of them are you! Don't you feel special? Thirty-nine is an odd number, though! I really need you here with me!"
Professor Sinistra hobbled into Astoria's room to get her. It was then that Astoria felt how tightly she had been gripping her blankets.
"We shall go further inside where we won't hear this rubbish," said the professor.
Astoria grabbed her pillow and started rolling up her blanket.
"Oh, you don't have to do that, dear. I've Duplicated our rooms further in. The only difference is that the windows face the interior and will look into one of the halls. We'll be right across from each other. We'll stay there until you're ready for breakfast, and then I'll move the rooms again so we can get downstairs."
Astoria followed Professor Sinistra closely as she weaved through dark, zigzagging hallways that Astoria had never known were there. Yet Astoria didn't mind being in a semi-enclosed space given the circumstances, and she gladly slept in her Duplicate room where no sound reached. Professor Sinistra saw to it that Astoria was settled in.
"Are you okay, Professor?"
Professor Sinistra looked at her darkly.
"On top of getting my husband involved with You-Know-Who in the first place, Rabastan has always been like this. To me, his Howlers are simply like a neighbour with a loud dog, but I know they say frightening things, and I didn't want you to hear his murderous screaming. He isn't exactly the eligible bachelor he claims, is he?"
Astoria didn't know if she should fake a laugh or not.
"Do you know why he sends only Howlers and never letters?"
"Well, he probably wants to keep you awake all night," Astoria surmised. "It's harassing enough as it is, but I'm sure he's picking this late hour to keep you up."
"That's true, but he also cannot spell. He spells everything phonetically. Now, if he weren't such a terrible person, I wouldn't say such things, but Severus can't understand written correspondence with Rabastan. So Severus gets about a third of the Howlers that I do. I don't think Rabastan ever brags to Severus about what a big, bad wizard he is, though," Professor Sinistra shrugged and walked to her room.
With their rooms now across from one another's, Astoria saw that the professor's ceiling was charmed perfectly to look like the night sky. She couldn't sleep at first, so she started reciting stars in her head until it worked.
This was the worst possible year to have to come back to school from Christmas holiday. Word spread that Luna Lovegood had been kidnapped by Death Eaters on the Hogwarts Express. It was more than the usual tragic rumour; there were eyewitnesses, one of whom was Ernie Macmillan. He had been badly cursed for trying to intervene and was seen using crutches.
Draco's response to his traumatic time at home was to kick everyone out of his dormitory and bring Astoria there. The Slytherin boys' dorms were set up the same way the girls' dorms were. The beds were in a line against the same wall, and the dressers were opposite. Unlike Astoria's dorm, there was plenty more space in the middle, but since it was the first night back, luggage was everywhere. There wasn't much to look at except some Quidditch posters, though, since boys didn't do much decorating. The main feature was Crabbe's, Goyle's, and Theodore's dirty clothes from before the holiday, awaiting the house-elves' laundering. Astoria knew which bed was Theodore's straight away, since there was long, black hair on the pillow and anxiously pulled, but not yet Mended, threads in his blanket. Draco's and Zabini's areas weren't as messy as the other boys'. Draco sat on his bed and threw himself back with a thud. Astoria sat at his desk, looking at his assortment of peacock-feather quills, his school planner, and the chocolate wrappers he had turned into origami snakes.
"Rabastan killed my owl," Draco told the ceiling.
Astoria winced. She had just seen the owl last night. Rabastan was irrevocably evil for torturing and killing people, but hurting animals was an even deeper kind of disgusting. Draco was trying to bear it with a stiff upper lip, but that was his pet.
"I'm so sorry, Draco. I remember what a beautiful owl it was. What was your owl's name?" she asked, trying to help Draco cope with the loss.
"Odysseus. He could go anywhere," Draco said, once again to the ceiling.
"That's a nice name. I had an owl named Twinkles, which doesn't sound as cool."
Draco grunted, then fell quiet for a while. Astoria fiddled with the origami snakes.
"Rabastan likes to kill birds because 'wings represent freedom' or something, and he was in Azkaban and had 'no wings'… I don't bloody know. He raved on about it for half an hour until Bellatrix cursed him for the umpteenth time last night. Listen, I hate Bellatrix, but I've never been happier to have her round."
"He deserves more than some curses for what he's done," Astoria remarked.
"Yeah. Erm. Well. Odysseus didn't have any pain, at least. Rabastan used the Killing Curse, not something messed up."
"I'm relieved he didn't feel it. The Killing Curse is messed up, though."
"Well, you know what I mean."
"Yes, I do. I'm sorry, Draco. I'm sorry you even have to be near those people."
"I don't want it to be for much longer. I'm of age, so once the Dark Lord secures his forces or wins the war or whatever, I'm out of that house. If the Lestranges want the manor so badly, they can have it. Mother and Father and I are going to live somewhere else," Draco asserted. "My grandfather left money for me. I mean, we have plenty of money anyway, but this is money the Lestranges don't know about. It's hidden in the house. When the Lestranges arrived, Grandfather said specifically that that money was for me to leave. So I'm leaving."
Astoria did want Draco out of that house, but not upon the conditions of Voldemort winning the war. It made her uncomfortable that Draco looked at it that way, but she supposed he was simply desperate for it to be over.
"Luna's alive, by the way. I figured you'd be worried, since she's in your class and everyone's talking about it. It was the Carrows. They hexed her, but she recovered in a day. They're keeping her in our basement, of course. Because why not. Why not put people in our damn basement. Although — and I hate to say this — the makeshift prison they have going on down there is better than Azkaban," Draco said gravely. "They picked Luna because her father's a huge blood-traitor. I feel awful. I tried to pretend she wasn't down there, but that made me think about her even more. And I… I can barely look my father in the eye. I love him, but it's the worst to see him unable to do anything or fight back. Father's been wandless since summer. Mother's started to hold her ground with the Lestranges, but she can't change anything. I hate being there at home, but I get so nervous when we're apart because I don't know what could happen to them."
"I can't even imagine," Astoria said, but she very much could. "It's like things keep getting added on to your situation, both mentally and physically."
"Yeah… Were you in the castle during the holiday? I heard it was nicer without the Carrows here," Draco changed the subject.
"No, I went home with Professor Sinistra," Astoria said. "We had a nice Christmas dinner, but Rabastan was sending her Howlers frequently."
"Yeah, I heard him make some of them before Bellatrix blocked the noise coming from his room. He's a whackjob. They all are, to be certain, but he's… well, he's the loudest. The Dark Lord hits him with Silencing Charms from time to time, after which Rabastan kisses his feet. I could have lived the rest of my life without seeing that."
Astoria also tried not to picture the toe-kissing too hard. When it became obvious that Draco was done talking, she charmed the paper snakes to slither over and tickle his ear. He squirmed and jumped up. Then he rubbed his forehead.
"Astoria, I'm really glad I have you in my life. You're the only one who understands me."
"How rude of you to forget Moaning Myrtle," Astoria said.
Draco brightened a little, "Oh, I could never forget her. I bought her bubble bath for Christmas to put into the Carrows' water when they brush their teeth. I hope she does it soon."
"Amycus and Alecto don't brush their teeth," noted Astoria.
"Ah, that's true. Well, I'm sure Myrtle will put it to good use somehow," Draco said, and by the Carrow pair's screaming Myrtle's name the following day, it seemed like the wish had been granted. It was the perfect prelude to Astoria's sixteenth birthday, during which she managed to spend time with all of her friends over the course of the day. Even though it wasn't much of a birthday, a small celebration took away some of the stress her new Apparition class had caused. Yet she hoped the date of her birthday wasn't causing more grief for her family and Rhiannon; to them, Astoria had never aged this far. To them, she was frozen in time last summer.
Astoria noticed the change in Flora's face as the hours ticked away to Monday's Dark Arts class. What would Amycus make her do this week, and to whom? In other classes, Amycus picked students he liked to cast curses on the ones he didn't, but in their class, Flora had always been the one. No one else shared in Flora's shame as he held her arm up to show the class the wand motions before forcing her to cast terrible things on her peers. Based on Theodore's and Draco's warnings, Astoria knew it was only a matter of time before Flora would be told to cast the Cruciatus Curse. Flora knew, too. She ate very little of her Sunday dinner.
Hestia was passing Astoria the salt when their plates started rattling. Flora put her hand flat on the table to feel the movement. Draco and Alexa looked round the room, but even the Gryffindors knew better than to play pranks. Astoria glanced at the dark windows; there was an almost nonexistent chance of thunderstorms at this temperature. She wondered what the teachers thought of the noise of glass and china, but it stopped suddenly soon after. Everyone who was looking round the room rested their eyes upon two Death Eaters who had walked up to the door. Their hoods were down, and their masks were off, held over their left breast. Snape stood up, his face twisted.
"Sir," said one of the Death Eaters to Snape, "M-Madam Deputy Lestrange h-has arrived, requesting the presence of the de-deputy headmistress."
Before Snape could make a response of any sort, the two Death Eaters parted, standing at opposite ends of the door. Astoria felt Draco tug her sleeve up to reveal her pure-blood identification band. He cast something protective on her under his breath, but it was mostly for his comfort; Astoria knew whatever it was could easily be broken by a witch of Bellatrix's level. Amycus and Alecto stood up and flanked Snape. Astoria swallowed hard and saw Hestia start to tremble.
Occlumency, I need Occlumency, Astoria thought, about a year too late.
Bellatrix Lestrange appeared in a ceremonial version of her uniform. Her silver mask, etched with heavy, swirling thorns and a sharp gate across the mouth, glinted in the candlelight from above. The whites of her eyes could not be seen, but Bellatrix drew every eye herself. She was tall for a woman, and her hairstyle made her even taller. It was neatly curled in some places and wildly knotted in others. Multiple braided aiguillettes of silver crossed from her shoulder down, holding her black cape in place as its long train trailed behind her rigid steps. Her heels stopped clicking in the middle of the walkway, and she turned to face the Slytherin table. Instantly, Draco, Flora, Hestia, Theodore, Imogen Stretton, Crabbe, and Goyle all stood attention by their seats. After some obviously dissented whispering, Chesna Borgin and Sedecla Burke also stood for Bellatrix. Astoria felt all the more noticeable for not standing due to her proximity to the others. Bellatrix made a short, high-pitched giggle, but then grabbed her lower back and hissed in pain. Astoria nearly choked on her own breath. She thought someone — Neville — had dared to hex Bellatrix, but it was not the case. Bellatrix rubbed her back and continued sauntering up to Snape. Behind him, all the teachers had balled fists and drained faces. Professor Sinistra, though, leaned forward with daring menace. Pansy Parkinson suddenly decided to stand up.
Exactly three marching steps behind the edge of Bellatrix's train, the unmistakable Rodolphus and Rabastan entered the Great Hall. They, too, were dressed formally, wearing double-breasted uniforms beneath their trademark black travelling cloaks. They removed their hoods in unison. Rodolphus was on the side farther from Astoria. He was a large form, taller than his wife, but smaller in personality. He only looked straight ahead and moved with exacting footsteps. He had gently waving black hair, peeking upwards in an old-fashioned style from his heavily-decorated mask. His thick hands threatened to tear the seams of his gloves.
Rabastan's presence was sensed as much as it was seen. His Legilimency, perhaps in combination with Bellatrix's ahead of him, was strong enough to set the room's occupants alight — Astoria could not believe the influx of emotions and traumas she sensed by proxy of Rabastan's work. Most people did not know Occlumency, but there was an inherent guard simply by possessing magic. How could he have broken down so many people without even raising a finger? Astoria felt like she had fallen into a sea of Muggles due to Rabastan's passive influence.
"Severus."
"Bellatrix."
Bellatrix held her chin high as she addressed Snape, and Rodolphus stood like stone behind her. Rabastan was unhealthily skinny from prison; his head looked too large for his small shoulders. He tugged on the band that held his mask over the mangled hole that had once been his left ear. He tried to look beyond Snape and the Carrows without moving from his designated spot, desperate to see Professor Sinistra. Like the others', his skull-like mask obscured his identity, but Astoria had seen his face on wanted posters and in Professor Sinistra's memories. Rabastan's mask had a vermiculated design worming its way down from the eyes and encircling the edge of the face irregularly. The mouthpiece opened through a crosshatch pattern, as if to represent claw marks. His dark brown hair had receded early for his age, and he had it mussed forward to disguise it. He continued to touch his mask, over and over, whilst his older brother did not budge.
"Per Alecto's humble request, we have decided to stay one week to evaluate the work being done here," Bellatrix said.
Her vocal inflection seemed to hit all the wrong spots, like she was trying to steer a child's voice through a full-grown throat. However, she could not have made it more obvious that she considered this visit to Hogwarts beneath her level.
"I will require accommodations," Bellatrix said, implying that she did not care whether Rodolphus and Rabastan slept on the floor.
"Certainly," Snape said through his teeth. "I shall have rooms prepared in the North Tower at once."
"Three rooms," Bellatrix instructed.
Since they were rather hard to miss, Bellatrix caught sight of Professor Flitwick, Professor Hagrid, and Professor Firenze at the staff table, and her shoulders hunched up in disgust even though Alecto already had them seated as far as possible from the seats of honour.
"The half-breeds eat at the table, Severus? Ensure that I do not see them again. Their corpses will be quite a chore to clean if I do."
The other teachers made disapproving comments on their fellows' behalf.
"SILENCE!" boomed Rodolphus suddenly, drawing a knotted, reddish wand and tracing it in a line across the staff table. Bellatrix, meanwhile, removed her mask and traced her eyes all over the deputy headmistress.
"Madam," Alecto said under scrutiny with a little bow. Amycus followed suit.
"So formal, Alecto?" Bellatrix questioned.
"It's a nice occasion to have you here," responded Alecto.
"There were plenty of better opportunities," uttered Bellatrix, but Astoria would not have heard that if she were not listening so closely.
"I thank you for answering our invitation," said Alecto at a normal volume.
"I answered yours, Alecto."
Alecto's expression was devoid of any emotions established in the English language.
"Oh. Well, it would be an honour to have you join my classes, Madam."
Bellatrix rocked her curls side to side, considering the invitation. With vague displeasure, she didn't accept it in the way it was offered to her.
"Ro, you'll join Alecto for Mudblood Studies. Rabastan, do us a favour and clarify History of Magic for the students."
Rabastan squirmed unhappily.
"An accurate History curriculum, Rabastan, is relevant to our Master's aims," Bellatrix said slickly, without even having looked behind her. "Displace the ghost."
She then sighed with forced ennui.
"Well, now… that leaves me to examine Dark Arts… I'll be thoroughly fascinated, I'm sure. Draw up a schedule of those three classes, Severus. We will evaluate their effectiveness starting tomorrow. Alecto… I should have you know we are fulfilling your request secondarily to gathering information from the students about Undesirable Number One."
At Bellatrix's words, everyone had Harry Potter's face in the forefront of their minds. Astoria grimaced, knowing that that would only give Bellatrix and Rabastan more to work with.
"Of course, Madam," Alecto acknowledged, showing her grey teeth in a smile. "You have free reign."
Bellatrix breathed, "Oh, if only."
Amycus signalled the end of the conversation with another bow. Once the Carrows returned to their seats, Draco, the twins, and the rest of the standing Slytherins also seated themselves. Draco would not look at Astoria, perhaps out of fear or shame, but she had her eyes locked on the offending visitors regardless. Whilst Bellatrix was giving Snape the absolute specifics of what she would want for breakfast in the morning, Rabastan fell out of formation. He stepped carefully round Bellatrix and Snape, skulked past the Ravenclaws, and stopped at the front of the Slytherin table. His back was to the students, but his proximity was like a solid weight on Astoria's chest. Minds raced all round her in the form of distracting, ambient noise. Astoria was only a few seats down from him.
"All this wasted time," Rabastan called to the only spot at the staff table that transfixed him. "All this distance."
Astoria's skin grew cold, but she was burning hot under the guise of minding her own business. It was taking all of her willpower not to grab her wand and do to Rabastan what he had done to Neville's parents. They said you had to mean the Cruciatus Curse for it to work.
Astoria could tell that Professor Sinistra was using immeasurably strong Occlumency by the dead zone surrounding her in the sea of noise. Pride tickled her. After all, she had helped the professor recover this skill even though her own Occlumency was naught to speak of and her Legilimency was miniscule compared to Rabastan's.
"Aurora, it was neither Alecto nor a vagary that brought me here," Rabastan spoke again despite never having received acknowledgement. "There is so much for you and me to discuss. For instance, the only thanks I ever got for getting you this job was you tearing my ear off. It's made the whole world sound different, Aurora. I wear the injury proudly, though. It's proof your darkest magic has touched me, as though it were something you reserved for a special occasion. Did you mean to take my whole head, angel?"
Professor Sinistra got her wand ready, but nothing happened yet. Something stirred in the wake of noise behind Astoria, and she followed the scent trail to Pansy Parkinson, who was rapt with Rabastan's figure. Parkinson had her hands clutched together against her chest, and she leaned far over the table to get a glimpse of Rabastan in person, at last in person. Parkinson had swooned over the same few pictures of Rabastan so many times that it had ruined her close relationships. Her attraction was loud, and Astoria recoiled at the unwanted mental contact. Professor Sinistra had warned Astoria to control her Legilimency, and, without having taken that advice, Astoria now shook off Parkinson's projections of desire like they were gnats on sweaty skin. When Astoria faced the staff table again, she jolted. Rabastan had turned round to face the students with his expressionless mask.
"Ro, you'll never believe this," he called, leaning towards his accomplices and tracing gloved fingers over the top of the Slytherin table. "Rodolphus."
Rodolphus turned his head, having heard Rabastan, but he was busy speaking with Bellatrix. Rabastan's shoulders hitched. To Astoria's personal discomfort, Rabastan switched his speech to French to address his brother.
"Hey, fathead, get a load of the Parkinsons' daughter!" Rabastan shouted. "Little creep wants in my pants."
Astoria hated Parkinson beyond belief. It was far more than Parkinson's previous stint at snogging Draco, or even her racist treatment of Rhiannon. The previous February, Parkinson had cursed Astoria with a nightmare in which a somewhat sexualised version of Rabastan had tortured and killed everyone Astoria held dear, with Draco as the only exception. That nightmare had even included Daphne's death — Daphne, who had been one of Parkinson's closest friends before the Lestrange fetish spawned. It was not dislike, distaste, or mild antipathy that Astoria held for Parkinson after that Nightmare Curse. It was hatred. Yet to see Rabastan's reaction to an eighteen-year-old's media-fed obsession with him made Astoria sick on Parkinson's behalf. Without the slightest knowledge of French, Parkinson would have no idea what Rabastan was saying, although she might have heard her surname.
Rodolphus snorted at first but soon broke into ugly laughter. He, too, spoke fluent French, and Astoria had never anticipated such insults to her mother's language. Rodolphus replied to his brother with toxic hilarity.
"I thought you wanted Crouch's dirty old witch! At least this one will take you."
"This bitch feels nothing like her!" Rabastan hooted. "Maybe if I shut my eyes."
"She must be pretty messed up to like your ugly face," Rodolphus jeered.
"Me? Look at you! You look like a pile of dragon dung set on fire and sprinkled with Muggle roadkill!"
"Roadkill? Oh, you mean Nott's wife?" Rodolphus roared with laughter, and his brother joined him.
Their French-language exchange had been loud and intimidating to the rest of the students, but it had no meaning to them. Astoria, though, was in turmoil, quietly willing Parkinson not to put herself in harm's way with her stupid obsession. Rabastan soon lost amusement in Parkinson's mind and hopped up to the staff table. Professor Vector and Madam Pince sat on either side of Professor Sinistra and tensed up at Rabastan's approach. He delighted in their show of uneasiness and brushed the sides of his robes behind him to reveal the weapons he carried on his belt. On his left, he carried a dagger engraved with the Dark Mark and phials of shimmering poisons. On his right, he kept an assortment of sharp, rusty Muggle tools, possibly of mind to show blood-traitors the brutality of Muggle torture devices. After all, the Cruciatus Curse didn't give Rabastan the high from harming people with his own two hands. The last thing on his belt was something looped in a circle, which he wrapped his hand over and shook downwards. A serpentine form of tightly braided leather unravelled to his ankles. Astoria's eyes traced back up the short whip to Rabastan's hand. He gripped tightly to the whip's handle — his wand.
There was a trend amongst wizards in polite society to affix their wands to walking sticks, and some elderly witches and wizards kept them in canes. Astoria had never seen a wand so misused as to be made into a whip, though. It offended her, yet she wondered how its magic would cast and how long it had taken Rabastan to adapt to the wand motions. She wished she had not been so curious to see it in action, though.
"Stupefy," Rabastan mumbled, and cracked the whip against the staff table, sending everyone jumping out of their seats.
Professor Sinistra had blocked the spell, but due to the long trail of magic created by Rabastan's whip, her deflection had only served to redirect the spell to Professor Vector. Once hit, Professor Vector fell out of her seat, and chaos ensued. Snape was screaming something at Rabastan whilst Rodolphus led Bellatrix calmly out of the commotion. Madam Pince was helping Professor Vector come to, and Professor Sinistra was fully prepared to duel. Draco, Hestia, and Flora were all urging Astoria to leave. She stood, but she couldn't run away from this. Rabastan was using the commotion to his advantage. He swept the whip across him and back to the right, then cracked it once more, barely missing Professor Sinistra's face.
"Imperio."
"NO!" Astoria screamed, but she was grabbed from behind by Draco and Flora. "NO, NO, NO!"
Professor Sinistra's eyes rolled for a second, and she lowered her wand. Astoria was so frantic she thought she might kick Draco and Flora to get free and do something. It was like no one else was looking at what was happening, only trying to run away and save their own skin. She fought them hard as they pulled her back.
Without any help, though, Professor Sinistra shook out the Imperius Curse in less than a few seconds and returned a spell to Rabastan.
"Stupefy!" she cast, but Rabastan seemed to have some awful advantage in parrying spells and making sure they hit somewhere. Professor Sprout felt it on her way to protecting the Hufflepuffs. However, Astoria quickly realised the Stunning Spell had been a somewhat-safe decoy. Rabastan's whip made his reaction time ages slower, and Professor Sinistra hit him with a much harder curse that he could not stop.
"DEFODIO!"
Draco threw Astoria behind him and started trying to push her out of the Great Hall. But she couldn't tear her eyes from the scene. Rabastan's blood splashed onto the floor, and he fell to his knees laughing. Somehow able to stifle the pain, he grabbed the stopper of his whip in one hand and the handle in the other. He brushed a spell across his chest, casting healing magic under his breath, and then bowled sideways to watch Professor Sinistra rush to the aid of Professor Vector and Professor Sprout.
Rabastan had blood on his gloves, and it smeared onto his mask as he pulled it off. His mussed hair fell over thick, arched eyebrows. He had old wounds on his face, likely from Voldemort or Bellatrix: a wide, pink cut above his right brow, and a heavily swollen, black left eye. He had but a thin line for an upper lip, but a plush lower one, giving him the impression that he was always smirking, even as his stubble-shadowed chin twisted and wrinkled from discomfort and anger. He was so distorted with emotion that his Death Eater's mask had given off a less threatening aura than his face.
Draco, Flora, and now Hestia were right to try to remove Astoria from the room. Because of Amycus's big mouth, Rabastan had been searching for Professor Sinistra's beloved Legilimency student, and Astoria had made a scene by screaming when he tried to Imperius her. Rabastan's smile seemed to open from the bottom, and his teeth were sharp against his lip. Depending on how the light touched him, his bitter eyes shone somewhere between light hazel and dark blue. When they locked on Astoria, though, his pupils dilated nearly to the brim of the colour, like a nocturnal animal's. He flung the whip upwards, in line with where Astoria stood, and it cracked in the air above his head.
"Peek-a-boo," Rabastan said, and his Legilimency flooded Astoria's skull, even after she shut her eyes and ran.
"The abyss of your eyes, full of horrible thoughts,
Exhales vertigo, and discreet dancers
Cannot look without bitter nausea
At the eternal smile of your thirty-two teeth."
- "Danse Macabre," C. Baudelaire