Book 4: Astoria Greengrass and the Curse of Quennell Park
Song rec: "When That Head Splits" by Esben and the Witch
Notes: Reposting the content warnings a final time, as many apply to this chapter. They also apply to future chapters, but this one's the kicker.
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)
"One need not be a chamber to be haunted,
One need not be a house;
The brain has corridors surpassing
Material place."
- "Ghosts," E. Dickinson
"Adorable sorceress, do you love the damned?"
- "The Irreparable," C. Baudelaire
It was bad enough not having Rhiannon in the dorm. Now Flora's bed was empty. Astoria, Hestia, and Alexa slept through all their classes. Classes didn't matter much anymore.
Flora was almost certainly still stuck in Rabastan's Nightmare Curse, but they were going to the Hospital Wing to check on her anyway. Alexa still had some sense of responsibility and brought along a textbook to read. Astoria, though, imagined their upcoming hours to consist of helplessly listening to Flora sleep-talk her nightmares. Astoria frankly didn't want Hestia to hear her, but there was no way to un-invite Flora's own sister. They walked upstairs in silence, and the exercise did nothing to warm them in the January cold. An unpleasant surprise awaited them at the Hospital Wing.
Alecto was standing against the closed door with her toes to the edge and her ear against the wood, tracing a fingertip in one of the panels. The girls did not take another step upon spotting the witch. Who would have thought she would be concerned enough for Flora to show up here? But she acted like a vampire at a threshold and did not enter.
"Hestia," Alecto called, "go in there and see how Flora is."
"You've been standing here, why don't you tell me?"
"Hestia."
Hestia walked on ahead since stepping past Alecto was the only way to see her sister. Astoria and Alexa followed suit.
"Not you," said Alecto, grabbing Astoria's shoulder and holding her back. Her eyes remained in Astoria's until the door closed behind Hestia. Then she took one look at Alexa and said, "You. Leave."
Alexa was reluctant, but she didn't need to be told twice. Astoria turned to follow her roommate, but Alecto's nails dug.
"You stay."
After about three minutes of no news and sweating, Alecto pounded on the door with the amount of force she wanted to use against Astoria's face, and yelled, "Hestia! Hestia! How's Flora‽ HESTIA!"
"Good Heavens, stop your screaming."
It was not Hestia but Madam Pomfrey who came to the door. Her wand was drawn for offensive magic, the first time Astoria had seen the Healer in such a stance. Alecto batted the weapon sideways instantly and grabbed the Matron by the collar.
"You tell me Flora's condition right now."
"You wouldn't prefer to see for yourself?" sneered Madam Pomfrey even though she was at a disadvantage. "You brought the Lestranges here to crowd my ward even more. You should be ashamed of your niece's state, of every filled bed in here. Or isn't that why you won't come in? You're ashamed."
Alecto trembled so speechless with rage that she could scarcely muster a curse. Enough stuttering, though, produced the Cruciatus. Madam Pomfrey screamed, but the curse did not last long since she was the only witch in the building who could treat Flora. She squatted down and picked her wand back up but did not aim it at Alecto again. Past the two witches, Astoria could see Hestia at Flora's bedside at the end of the wing. It didn't look good.
"So help me, Poppy…" Alecto pushed through her teeth, "if… if you make one — one — wrong move on my Flora… I will drown you in the washbasin."
Madam Pomfrey doubled over in tears after another curse. Alecto slammed the door shut on the Healer and wrenched Astoria's arm so roughly that she had no choice but to turn and follow her lest it dislocate.
"You… you attracted Rabastan Lestrange to Flora."
"I'd sooner die," Astoria spat.
"You sooner might."
She wrangled Astoria all along the castle corridors. Astoria wasn't playing along this time and tried to wrestle free, but the only thing that accomplished was getting a puppetry curse set into her arms and legs. They missed the turn for the Muggle Studies office.
Astoria's guess as to where they were going ended up being worse than the reality, at least. She found herself being thrown into one of the chairs in Amycus's office. He should have been holding a class right now, but the classroom had been empty when they walked in. Alecto looked at the clock. Astoria looked at Alecto.
"Invisibilia incantata," said Alecto, and Astoria sat in the chill of the charm.
She didn't know why she had been Disillusioned and tried not to think about it too hard. Still, she kept imagining that Voldemort was going to walk into a Carrow-hosted surprise party where she was supposed to be the surprise. Death or Azkaban? Death or Azkaban? Astoria looked down to where her lap and feet would be and felt dizzy not being able to see herself there. Alecto looked at the clock. She sat down, played with her hair, and looked at the clock. She stood up and paced. Tugged her sleeves. Looked at the clock. Astoria had nothing better to look at than Alecto. She already knew not to speak. But when Amycus came in, her stomach made noises.
"You're late," said Alecto.
"I am?" her brother asked.
"By eight minutes anyhow. For Thursdays anyhow. Where were you? Where was your class? Didja take them out to the forest?" Alecto grilled.
"No, sorry, Allie. Didn't realise the time. That Macmillan punk barged in and tried to act the brave knight for one of the fifth-year Gryffindors when he heard her screaming. I dismissed the rest of them and went after Macmillan. He's been doubly Cruciated in the fifth-year's place," Amycus said enthusiastically.
He walked so close to Astoria that she feared being sat upon, but she still could not move.
"You don't gotta be sorry. I just thought you got lost again, knowing you," Alecto sighed.
"That was one time—"
"—Two," she cut in.
"—Two times," he laughed. "And maybe some times you don't know about."
"I was gettin' ready to go out and shake your food bowl, leave my coat on the floor in the corridor for you to sniff out," joked Alecto.
"Watch it," smiled Amycus.
Alecto crossed her legs and bounced her foot to the tune of the song in her head.
It was one of Pariah's songs.
Astoria tried to stop her Legilimency, tried to stop the melody.
Then something slammed. It wasn't anyone who'd managed to get the door open to rescue her. It was just the bottom cupboard in Amycus's desk. He reached in and set out two rocks glasses and a bottle of off-brand Firewhiskey. Astoria could hardly anticipate what the pair's intoxicated state would look like. They were already unbearable sober.
"Oh. Firewhiskey?" Alecto critiqued as Amycus conjured ice cubes.
"I ain't givin' you no green fairy at this hour with hardly any food in your stomach."
"Psh! What are you, my mother? I can hold my alcohol, smartarse."
"Now, since when am I the responsible one?" Amycus asked.
"Since you got old on me."
"Watch it."
As he poured the drinks, the stench of cheap burps filled the office. After toasting her brother, Alecto just barely raised her glass at Astoria and smiled her mouth into the nastiest little shape.
"So how was your day?" Alecto asked.
"Oh, y'know. Nicer without Bellatrix," came Amycus's satisfied answer as he leaned his rump onto his desk.
"Bellatrix? She wasn't the problem."
"She's been my problem, ain't she? Always hated the bitch."
"Amycus."
His calm sipping became more akin to gargling.
"What? She ain't here to hear me. I'll say what I like. 'Course I can see how offended you are, seein' as you're so downright fond of her."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Am…"
Astoria didn't know which was the worse breed of torture: actual curses or listening to the Carrows squabble. She was somewhat reminded of the times she had nagged Daphne for fancying Blaise Zabini. But really, Amycus's problem wasn't that it was Bellatrix specifically. It was that it was anybody — any threat to take Alecto away. Astoria knew them well enough to picture the situation switched: Alecto would curl in a ball sobbing if Amycus started spending his time elsewhere. The Carrows could not do anything independently. Their upbringing had never given them a chance to know how, nor did they want to learn. It was bizarre, assuredly, but it was also quite sad.
"For what it's worth," said Amycus tartly, "Bellatrix musta shagged somebody whose name ain't Rodolphus, say, about eight months ago. So you might as well give it up. She's got more transfiguration on her than a selkie in heat."
"You ain't serious… Don't say such things," mumbled Alecto.
"Disappointing news to you, I'm sure," said Amycus. "Disgusting, she is. Just disgusting. Never liked her and I'm glad she's gone."
"Y'know, she's probably worried how Azkaban made her look and transfigured herself to look healthier."
"No. It's new magic," challenged Amycus, smacking a palm down onto the desk.
"It ain't new magic! It's since Azkaban, I'm tellin' you," Alecto answered, gripping her knee.
"Azkaban, eh? Who kept you out of Azkaban, Alecto? Wasn't Bella. If it was up to her, you'da been cell mates — dementor food."
"Oh yeah? Who kept you out of Azkaban?"
"The woman in front of me — who the fuck else‽" he exclaimed.
The tinkling of ice in their glasses sounded like tiny windchimes. Astoria feared to breathe too loudly. The Carrows stewed at each other for a lengthy moment before finding common ground.
"Well, I'm right glad Bellatrix took Rabastan with her," sighed Alecto.
"I'll say. Any news on Flora?" Amycus asked, refilling their drinks.
"She's still in the curse."
"That filthy wanker. I oughtta kill him, I ought."
"Don't endanger yourself. I got the next best thing…" Alecto said, suddenly revealing her surprise. "…The honey that brought the fly."
Astoria's out-of-body experience left her in place of the fright of being visible. Astoria and Amycus violently startled at the same time, and half his drink splashed onto Alecto's dress. He cleaned Alecto up but couldn't save the wasted alcohol. His face let Astoria know it.
"Well, well! Didn't know we had ourselves company… I been hearing things about this one all day…" Amycus said with piqued interest, circling round Astoria's chair. "Why should our Flora have to pay for your crimes, Greengrass?"
"She shouldn't," said Astoria strongly. "And I shouldn't have to pay for Rabastan's. You're the one who told him I was a Legilimens."
Amycus shook his head and growled, "Always piss and vinegar with you, eh?"
He circled back to his desk and dipped his hand beneath the stack of underclassmen's quizzes in his "to do" tray. He flipped through a couple, tossed the whole stack into the air, and splattered red zeros on them all with a wave of his wand before they floated gently into the "done" tray. Beaming at Alecto, he uncuffed his sleeves and rolled them up. Freed, the skull in his Dark Mark gnashed its teeth at Astoria.
"Know what I think, Alliecat?"
"Tell me anyway."
"…I think me and you are gonna enjoy the evening off."
Astoria watched the photograph on Amycus's desk as she lay belly to the floor. Its image rolled for ten seconds. More expensive developing potions could retain up to one minute of photo exposure, but this was all the Carrows had had.
Ten, nine.
Its sky was always partly sunny, and the way everyone's shadows were, it must have been taken at three in the afternoon. Looped in time, its yellow flowers, though picked, never wilted.
Eight, seven.
A gust of wind blew the fluff of more mature dandelions across the picture at six seconds. They settled into the grass, a collection of wishes that never came true.
Six, five.
Astoria's repeated mental countdowns never adequately distracted her from the pain,
Four.
but she'd seen the photo's sequence so many times,
Three.
that she had become a mystagogue on the subject.
Two.
She pondered why the world had given her as good an uncle as Faunus Greengrass only to take him away, and why it had given Flora and Hestia an uncle like Amycus Carrow only to keep him. Amycus would never be an Uncle Faunus — not in a million years — but he hadn't always been this, either. There was photographic evidence right in front of her. If Astoria had the power to twist fate and restart him from scratch, she knew that Flora and Hestia would have a real family. Amycus was evil, but he wasn't born evil. He had just been told that he was. He accepted that explanation gratefully; it meant he didn't have to change.
Sometimes, his Cruciatus Curse was less for pain and more for effect. Ornamental. Bored, even. Astoria's best-case scenario was when he would get chatty with Alecto whilst casting curses. When they talked, Astoria's pain would halve. And when Alecto laughed, the pain would quarter. Astoria would pretend it didn't. She didn't want him to know that she had his same relief. He'd double down if he knew.
The pressure of Amycus's Cruciatus Curse left Astoria sore and aching, but the ordeal wasn't finished. This was but one instance of Astoria's continued punishment for blaspheming Voldemort and "gettin' Flora cursed," and no one close to her could intervene on her behalf without being considered another traitor. That was why, all this time, she kept these detentions with the Carrows absolutely secret from Professor Sinistra. Alecto's new cashmere skirt brushed against Astoria's cheek as she stepped over her.
Amycus reclined in his chair off to the side, swirling the absinthe in his glass, enjoying the show. He kept his sister's food warm whilst he chewed his own dinner with his mouth open. The Carrows enjoyed making a cabaret of the whole ordeal, and it was Alecto's turn now. One would dine and watch whilst the other would perform. Amycus's preferred methods involved brassy curses, whilst Alecto was more partial to skin-to-skin contact. In either case, Astoria ended up both injured and hungry. Flora had only just recovered from Rabastan's Nightmare Curse earlier that week, and Astoria didn't need anyone endangering themselves by getting involved with this. She dealt with it alone.
Alecto magically ripped the pure-blood identification band from Astoria's skin, drawing blood. Astoria looked away so as not to get queasier than she was already. She had been waiting for Alecto to do it ever since she had torn them off all identifiable Dumbledore's Army members.
God it hurts.
"We tried to offer you preferential treatment, my little songbird, but you gone and disappointed us. After all you and me have been through, you still swear by your old ways. I really thought I'd taught you better. You seemed to understand Muggle Studies. What made you change your mind? Was it that dream Rabastan gave you?"
Astoria bit the collar of her robes as Alecto sat all of her weight on her back and pulled her hair. As a pastime, Alecto started plaiting it messily with her stubby fingers, rolling Astoria's face against the floor as she did so.
"You know Flora and Hestia so well, Astoria. Better than me and Am do, I sometimes fear. I'm scared we'll lose them to you, really. See, we're theirs, but they aren't ours. We do everything for them, but they don't accept us. Never did. I don't get it. They wouldn't've been born if it wasn't for us… right? If their dad didn't hate us enough to run off, he never would've met their mother… right? And, see, they'd've never been born! They were brought into this world because of us! See, see — you'll make a real hole in our life if you take them from us, Astoria… You can't, you just can't…"
Alecto leaned all the way down to Astoria's level, crushing her back more and appearing over her shoulders. When they made eye contact, Astoria dry-heaved. Alecto was always so evocative a presence it was unbearable. She played human emotions like a harpist with bleeding fingers. Astoria would have to wash her robes of Alecto's smell.
"I do value our time together in the evenings. Shame you'd rather be with Malfoy right now. Don't think we don't know. He didn't really leave you after them terrible things you said about the Dark Lord, did he? Yeah, yeah… you two try and hide it, don't you? Goodness, how careful you are," Alecto said with a venom-barbed tongue.
Indeed, Draco and Astoria had done such a fine job of pretending to have split up that it was sadly starting to feel like they had. Astoria seethed at the taunt. Alecto was torturing Astoria for badmouthing Voldemort, yet she wasn't doing anything to stop the rumour about her precious Dark Lord. In the scope of things, not many students believed Astoria was involved with Voldemort, but those who did had been a very strange force to reckon with. Astoria spent her time deliberately trying to act like a blood-traitor. It hadn't put her in Azkaban yet — Rabastan evidently was trying to cover the whole thing up.
Alecto cast her umpteenth Scouring Charm against Astoria's skin, and hissed when Astoria had made only a slight shift of her weight due to discomfort.
"Why are you in such a bloody hurry to leave us?"
"Well, this isn't my idea of family fun night. And seeing as I have such sexy plans with Tom Riddle—" Astoria spewed, the first vitriol she had used all week.
Alecto pulled Astoria upwards, stretching her back and instilling a deep cramp.
"HOW DARE—"
"Yeah, I dare! That big pet snake he carries? Compensation," Astoria fired.
Alecto screeched like a demon doused with salt, and Amycus set his plate down, figuring he would get involved. They both cast the Cruciatus Curse and wondered why Astoria wasn't "learning" anything. Something changed in the way Alecto looked at Astoria. It was hard to imagine how things could get any worse, but the most disturbing part was that Astoria did not yet know.
Ten, nine.
Eight, seven…
Astoria was not the only student for whom things grew worse each day. Even though the Lestranges' visit had been cut short, their influence lingered. Detentions, which had always been arbitrarily torturous, were now intense Cruciatus sessions. Most prefects, especially Tracey Davis, were sick of being bossed around by the Carrows, who were telling her all the new actions that qualified as rule-breaking. Another unwholesome development was the changing landscape of the library. The Lestranges had ordered all the books by known Muggle-borns to be burned. Seeing as Madam Pince would never burn a book, she had figured out various ways to sneak them back home, but there was nothing she could do to stop the shipments of books on blood purity from coming in. It gave Alecto more material to make Muggle Studies lessons from, which had finally erupted to full-blown eugenics and calls for violence. Astoria was deeply ashamed for ever having paid an ounce of attention in that class, but overcoming the experience had at least given her a lesson.
Astoria yearned for Draco's company, but with the other Death Eaters' increased monitoring of his actions, there was no time she could spend with him except right before his patrols. She sent her Patronus out every night for his safety. Draco had to lie to the other Death Eaters and say she was doing it as an effort to get his attention. That he didn't want anything to do with her.
It was all pretence, but Pansy Parkinson was strongly encouraged by the whole ordeal. Now that the allure of Rabastan wasn't as strong (it was not gone entirely), Parkinson fawned over Draco and followed him round. Draco told her to get lost on more than one occasion according to various gossiping reports. Astoria hated relying on others' accounts for what Draco's daily life was like. They weren't even Astronomy partners anymore. She and Tracey had paired once again, whilst Draco and Theodore sat in a far corner during classes. Astoria wished Draco were a Legilimens, as they might have been able to communicate by looking at one another. Well, those Legilimency wavelengths were pretty obvious, anyway, weren't they…? She guessed it was a lost cause.
Sometimes, Draco would send her self-destructing letters written in invisible ink. Sometimes, she wasn't quick enough to read them before they burnt themselves to ash, which made her ache even more. He always said he loved her, and that they would get through this. Astoria loved him deeply. She just didn't believe the second part was possible. The war raged on.
Although Flora was no longer the sole student casting curses in Amycus's class, many times the students were forced to cast the Cruciatus. Astoria wished there was some way to build up tolerance to the pain, but there wasn't. Not with that curse. Her best opponent was Curtis Evercreech, whose rendition was hardly a painful shove, but the worst was Imogen Stretton. Besides the Cruciatus, the other magic Amycus introduced got progressively worse. Astoria copied every curse they used into her grimoire and drank it all in. She had desecrated her book on the zodiac all the way up to Serpentarius. Her last entry was Fiendfyre, which had taken far more information than what Amycus provided to truly understand, but she had always been willing to pursue independent study.
Astoria became less and less independent, though, since her roommates always tried to keep close. It was the safe thing to do, but as they became more guarded of Astoria due to her unexplained absences, the Carrows devised a way to keep her part of their torture sessions. The Carrows met her increasing absence with the threat: if she did not squeeze them into her schedule, they would go after her friends. Draco, Theodore, Tracey, Alexa, Chesna Borgin and Sedecla Burke, their own nieces… they would all be Cruciated. Therefore, when Astoria was ordered to meet Alecto in the Clock Tower courtyard during the Hogsmeade trip on the twentieth of March, she did. On her way there, she was taunted with thoughts of her other options. Other things she could have done. Ways she could have got out of this. Ways she still could. But her feet carried her back to Alecto. Compared to the feasible options, it seemed… less effort.
The Clock Tower courtyard was heavily laden with the face-prickling smell of the last winter rain. Alecto was sitting at the edge of the empty fountain, swaddled warmly in a lavish new cloak, but her tattered leather shoes tapped on the cold stone. She appeared deep in thought, her eyes glazing over the pear tree that Hestia had taken upon herself to thin and tend to many times. The tree was empty; it was much too cold for pears yet.
"Today is your equinox, Astoria. Today is the first day of spring."
Astoria made no response.
"I've a Hot-Air Charm ready for us here. Come sit."
There was no safe distance at which to join Alecto. Astoria sat aside the dry fountain in the heat of Alecto's treacly magic, but the shivers didn't go away.
"Tell me about your vernal festival, Astoria."
"There's not much to say. My family's all gone."
"That they are. But they weren't always missing. They were a big part of society. So was the Vernal Equinox. You know, Astoria…" Alecto sighed, "why not just call it what it is? You celebrate Ostara. Or is that too Pagan a term for you folk?"
"It makes no difference," said Astoria.
"It once did," growled Alecto, her gloves pilling against the coarse stone she rubbed. "When I was a little girl, I always dreamt of going to your Equinox ball. I didn't know we were excluded from the invitations back then. Grandmother held Ostara at her house for everyone you Greengrasses wouldn't invite. But I spent more time wishing we was at your Equinox than appreciating what Gran tried to give us. I didn't understand things like social class. I didn't even know what a blood-traitor was back then. This Equinox feast, though… it seems like a very pure-blood thing to me. Why does everyone in your family wed on the same day?"
Astoria squinted with nonsense paranoia at the roots on the empty pear tree as she answered, "To honour the Earth."
"Now that's bollocks and you know it," Alecto said, and Astoria felt a twinge in her legs as the magic that was warming her seat became too hot. "There's a difference between tradition and ritual, Astoria. When a tradition isn't, or can't, be broken, that's a ritual, see. And rituals, they're used to break curses."
Astoria watched Alecto's interest indifferently. Quennell had made Astoria a Secret Keeper about the Greengrasses' blood curse. No amount of Cruciatus Curses would satiate Alecto's curiosity if Astoria could hold out. Alecto caught on to Astoria's attitude of inconsequence, though.
"There's some curses you can't break. You familiar with any?"
"Off the top of my head, no, but I'm sure they're out there," Astoria said, looking not at Alecto but at a serpent-haired gargoyle peeking between the pear tree's branches.
"'Out there?' There's whole sets," snorted Alecto.
Astoria's shoulders hitched.
"I take it our change of venue is so you can cast something unbreakable upon me."
"I'd like to, love," Alecto murmured. "But truly unbreakable curses can only be cast upon yourself."
They both watched the clouds. Alecto saw a pomegranate, a sea monster, and a water jug. Astoria only saw clouds.
"Have a look in the fountain, Astoria."
Astoria redirected her gaze from the sky to the stone. There was no immediate horror waiting for her in the basin like she expected.
"What do you see?"
"Er, carved initials," answered Astoria.
"Who of?" asked Alecto.
"Erm, students."
"What kind of students?"
"Erm. Couples."
"Couples, yes, yes! Name me some."
"Er. 'LM + NB.' Er, 'LE + JP'…" read Astoria.
"I lit one up for you, Astoria. Do you see it?"
"Er, yeah."
"What's it read?"
"'HC + RC.'"
"That's right! I found this two days ago and couldn't stop thinking of it. Because we know an 'HC' don't we?" Alecto prodded. "My niece Hestia."
"Oh," said Astoria with qualified tonelessness.
"We know an 'RC,' too, don't we? The Mudblood. Rhiannon Clarke."
"Oh," shrugged Astoria. "No, I think this was Henry Combswaithe and Regina Colantoni, to be honest. A Ravenclaw couple from a few years back."
Alecto smiled, "How very convenient."
"It wasn't too convenient when Filch caught them," Astoria smiled back.
"Astoria," Alecto snarled, "did Hestia touch that Mudblood?"
"Not in the way you seem to be fixated on, no," retorted Astoria, and she earned herself a slap across the face.
Alecto could hardly wait for a second hit, "Did she or did she not touch the Mudblood? Do not lie to me."
"Rhiannon was mine, Alecto," Astoria lied seamlessly. "Rhiannon was mine until she got angry that I was friends with Draco. We split up. But she never 'contaminated' that niece you abuse."
Alecto opened her mouth, shut it, and opened it again.
"Hestia turned out all wrong because of you, Astoria, not us. Now get out of my fucking sight."
"With pleasure."
Astoria walked away from the courtyard mostly backwards, fearing the onslaught of curses. But Alecto had busied herself with filling the fountain with water now that winter was over, trying not to cry.
There wasn't much else for Astoria to do that evening, ironically. She had joined Dumbledore's Army, not in formal allegiance, but rather in lack of privileges. She was forbidden from Hogsmeade trips, which were the only sliver of hope anyone had anymore. These trip days were the only times the dementors weren't round the doors, and even though anyone who exited the castle was subjected to interrogations about Harry Potter when coming back in, Astoria opted to sit outside again. The Carrows couldn't stop her from sitting on the stoop of the castle, or at least, they hadn't bothered to yet. Hestia and Flora brought Astoria back a huge bag of sugared violets, and quietly admitted that they were a gift from Draco. Astoria thanked them for bringing them to her, and stayed outside after they went back in, just to try to feel something in nature. Her toes would have frozen long ago if not for the Hot-Air Charm. She loosened her scarf only a smidge, though, since she was prone to being cold. She watched students' heads mill about the places that were still open in Hogsmeade from her high spot on the castle steps.
Supposedly, if she stepped too far out of the castle, some magical bell would go off in Alecto's office, and she would earn another Cruciatus Curse. Astoria didn't know how that trick worked, or if it was even true, but if the Ministry had an entire Trace system for minors, she guessed Alecto could figure out a single bell.
In half-hearted protest, Astoria chucked small stones that she conjured as far as she could across the property. The farthest one landed about one dozen yards away from the Quidditch pitch. She wished Ginny Weasley would come to sit and sulk with her, but Ginny had got over the disappointment of not having Hogsmeade trips long ago. She was probably busy doing something stupidly risky in the castle in that moment.
A flock of blackbirds flew out of the pines. Astoria watched them go higher over the treeline. Evening was arriving, and Astoria recalled that the equinox would occur close to eight o'clock that night. The first day of spring was almost always cold, especially in northern Scotland. She thought of Quennell and her family's curse yet again. So much had happened since Renshaw and Gracie's wedding last year, and she could only hope that her family was finding some comfort in their vernal celebration.
Another flock of birds zipped over the grounds, except this group scattered from the flight formation. Astoria suspected some immature third-years had shot spells at them from Hogsmeade, and she stood up to get a better look at the village. It was hard to see, but some students looked to be running.
Every place Astoria could see, people were coming out of their houses, and then an even larger group walked back toward the place the students had run from. Astoria hopped up onto the ledge. She saw an odd black figure against the setting sun, but then it vanished into thin air. Whatever it was, it wasn't good, so Astoria ran for the door. She reached the landing at the top of the steps when she heard a loud crack reverberate against the castle's stone. Dark magic fell upon her whole body.
Only feet away from the door, Astoria froze in place and fell. Her skin scraped the abrasive stone, and had her scarf not bunched upwards, she would have broken her nose during the fall. She knew who was behind her and realised how many fears were worse than the fear of death. Rabastan Lestrange cast a Disillusionment Charm on her by way of cutting into her cloak with the whip. He, too, was invisible, and groped all through her pockets without being able to see. When he finally found her wand, he threw it down the steps. He smacked her with two Sticking Charms, one on her lower body, and one on her cheek. Then he magicked her on the back of an invisible broom and sat his weight on the front, backing into her face so that she was Stuck to him. He left a group of flaming red Howlers at the castle door before lifting off. Astoria's aversion to heights paled in comparison to her aversion to Rabastan, whose shoulder blades rolled against her cheek. He smelled like Draco, and at first Astoria chalked it up to his residence at Malfoy Manor, but that was not it. He smelled exactly like Draco, and she also caught hints of chocolate, and finally, night air, which was not a scent that could be captured. Rabastan was wearing Amortentia as cologne. Unbelievable.
"Wanna go on the Hogsmeade trip with me, Astoria?" Rabastan slurped, and he flew through the now-crowded streets, knocking people over with invisible force.
Astoria was desperate for help, but she couldn't utter anything, and she was absolutely unable to move. There was nothing she could drop to say, "this is the direction he took me."
As he circled round and round Professor Sinistra's house, Astoria begged someone to react to the noise he was making and cast something in that direction, even if it hit her, too. Just to get her off of this broom. Anything. But everyone was circled round the body of the former Minister for Magic, gawking at his form on Professor Sinistra's doorstep. There was something wrong with the carcass's face.
"Aaaaaand if you look to your left, you'll find Corpse-nelius Fudge in his not-so-natural habitat," Rabastan laughed.
Professor Sinistra was not home to see it. She would have been keen enough to save Astoria, but she was in the castle, probably getting stalked by Howlers. Was there any hope at all?
"Disaster always attracts a useless sort of crowd, doesn't it?" Rabastan remarked of the people below them.
He hovered outside the professor's window, which he could not enter without getting cursed to death. He then lifted further into the air.
"Oh, I hope Aurora likes her gift!" he shouted as the wind stung Astoria and threw her robes side to side. "You see, Green-bean, Cornelius Fudge consistently ignored my pleas for parole. And since Aurora hates him so much, I went ahead and did us both the favour! It was lots more fun than offing that Mudblood family earlier this week! Oh, but I don't think I'll get my picture in the paper. That's the only sad thing about us controlling the media. They are too scared to say anything about us. Hm, well, maybe if I pay a visit to the Prophet…"
Astoria suddenly hoped that Alecto had not made empty threats about the alerts she would get if Astoria left Hogwarts property. Even if it was Alecto who went looking, having anybody search for her was better than being some unsolved case at the hands of Rabastan.
They travelled at top speed. The only thing Astoria still had control of was her eyes. She wanted to shut them against the wind, but if she did, she wouldn't have any clues about where she was being taken. She couldn't decide on whether she wanted to be taken to Malfoy Manor or not. If she was, she'd be thrown into the basement prison with Luna Lovegood, but she would also be under the same roof as Voldemort.
If she was going somewhere else, though, no one would ever find her body.
It was overcast, and Astoria could not determine either time or location based on the stars. Her terror hindered her own sense of an internal clock, and she had no idea how long they had been flying. She pondered Rabastan's choice of travel; he could have Apparated at the edge of the Hogwarts property rather than bother with a broom. With her cheek magically adhered to his back, though, she could hear his ugly heartbeat. He had missed flying whilst in prison, not Apparating.
Astoria was not fond of either method of travel. She was motion-sick by the time they landed in a not-so-affluent Muggle town that had several decrepit storefronts. Its atmosphere was akin to Diagon Alley's recent dilapidation. Rabastan approached a rotted art deco building and punched out a stained glass window with his wand whilst still on the broom. He detached Astoria and sent her drifting through the damaged window. Her cloak snagged on the broken glass, and she fell to a dusty floor. She could not open her mouth to cough out the dust, which created a miserable trap of her air. The building was heavily permeated with mildew and mould. Rabastan's steps made creaks in the floor and footprints in the blanket of dust round her. He made himself visible once again, but Astoria could only see the toes of his boots. Another painful sting, and Astoria was herself visible again. She still could not speak or move, and Rabastan hoisted her into the air with a twirl of his wand.
"Every time I come back, they seem to have boarded up another window. I don't understand why they don't just demolish the place. Oh, yes, how could I forget? The walls are full of toxins! Yes, yes. Savage Muggles built it. This is old Manbaum's Funeral Parlour. But it's almost beautiful."
Astoria couldn't see anything except the falling ceiling, cracked like eggshells through several layers of paint.
Is this where you take people?
Rabastan walked through an open, termite-eaten door and squeezed down a hallway full of rubbish and broken furniture. At the end of the hallway was a single flight of rickety steps. The smell was bad already, but it was suffocating downstairs. Rabastan threw Astoria on the wet, slimy floor and swung the whip all round, conjuring candles above them. She would have preferred not to see the room.
"They'd dress the bodies up really pretty down here. You have to do a lot of work to get a Muggle body to preserve. 'Embalming,' they call it," Rabastan said.
In the light, Astoria saw his one-eared visage. He still had the same facial wounds that he wore at Hogwarts in January. The bruise over the left eye. The swollen cut over the right eyebrow. His suffering at the hands of Dark magic had not once caused him to stop using it. He appeared to be smiling, but it was just the peculiar curvature of his bottom lip. His expression was not a happy one yet.
He looked at his gold watch carefully and sighed, "What do you think, Astoria? Do you think Aurora will pay us a visit? I hope I made the directions clear enough. You're in real trouble if nobody understands where you are. Well, we still have an hour. It would be such a shame to waste it, hm?"
That awful whip hit Astoria across the chest, and she started floating again, only to be set on a cold dust-covered surface. She felt the curse holding her loosen round her face and neck. Rabastan walked up to her head and flung one side of his long coat back, grabbing one of the many Muggle devices he carried for people who had met the same or worse fates. He picked something that looked like salad tongs or crab claws.
"You are so fidgety! These are only eye specula, stupid! Here, let me show you."
With his sweaty gloves, Rabastan stretched her eyelids back and placed the cold metal instrument right at their corner so that she couldn't blink. Her body screamed where her voice could not.
"Oh, my, you look so clownish. I use these all the time for Legilimency. I highly recommend them. See, it's not so bad! I believe what you're afraid of is these…"
Rabastan detached two more instruments from his belt and waved them in front of her itchy, drying eyes. They looked even more hideous. One looked like a wire, and the other, she didn't want to know.
"This is called a 'lachrymal probe.' This one's an 'evisceration scoop.' I do love Muggle eye instruments! The eyes are one of the most fascinating parts of the body. You're a Legilimens just like me, Astoria — you must agree."
Rabastan hovered his face over hers and stared into her eyes.
"Peek-a-boo, pigeon."
His pupils dilated abruptly. She could not stop it. She kept thinking she would end up looking like Quennell.
"Quennell, now let's see… that must be Quennell Park's namesake. Oh, he's a ghost? No? Not a ghost? He was… your first love? You must be mad to fall in love with a ghost. Unless… Oh, Astoria, you are so confusing to comb. There's something wrong with your brain."
Rabastan whacked her forehead.
"Hm, Quennell's got no eyes? You're about to get yours scooped out your head if you don't get more conversational here, sweet cheeks."
Astoria shook against the instrument on her face. She would have been blaring her voice if she could. Rabastan squeezed her face, causing the specula to poke her in the eye, and for one painful but relieving moment, she could blink before he moved them back in place.
"Oh, you're like a little treasure map!" Rabastan piped as he weaved his way through her memories and emotions. "I love treasure hunts. Ah, ah, 'X' marks the spot… there we go. Oh, magnifique! Je savais que tu étais inestimable. You've used Legilimency on my witch!"
Astoria could not believe the detail with which Rabastan drew out her memories. Her head became a well crumbling from the demand of a thousand thirsty buckets. Rabastan was only interested in that which was second-hand from Professor Sinistra and peeled it out like glue from fingernails. He started to shake as he cracked the shell of the images of Professor Sinistra's house and toured its interior by way of Astoria's memories. She saw the twigwork banisters, the lucky talismans, and the moving rooms fly past her. Rabastan spent ages trying to get into Professor Sinistra's bedroom, but as Astoria had only seen it from the door, there was not much to be extracted. His anger rang against her each time he saw something that belonged to Crouch Jr, and when he, like Astoria, uncovered the man's office, he lost his cool.
"Why would she keep Crouch's rubbish that way?" he screamed.
Rabastan fumbled with his desecrated wand to try to torture Astoria with a spell, but it fell on her, so he decided to hold it against her neck instead. The pressure, though, loosened as Rabastan began to make a show of crying. He dropped jealous tears on her cheek as he uncovered the sanctity which Professor Sinistra held for her husband compared to the repulsive hatred she had for him. Astoria was pitiless to the theatrical show of emotion. She wasn't naïve; she knew any scraps of empathy she'd have for Rabastan would allow him to scratch her skull deeper.
After he gulped down the entire vivid chronicle of Astoria's relationship with the professor, he started sniffing round Astoria's personal life as well. He began with her most immediate memories, which he found nothing less than hilarious. His tears vanished into a pitiless smile.
"Well… at least Flora made it, hm?" he giggled uncontrollably.
Astoria tried everything to move, because the first thing she would do if she could was punch his teeth out. After more of his horrible amusement, he uncovered the next layer down. As memories of that cursed mirror began to resurface, something chilled Astoria's spine, and she felt pressure in her ears, like when Rhiannon used to set her amp too loud…
You fuckwit! The mirror wasn't cursed! AND YOU BROKE IT! Rabastan screamed into her head without opening his mouth.
It was cursed! she thought back, but the second she did, her ears popped and the pressure left her. She fell into Rabastan's eyes, which she decided were neither definitively blue nor hazel, but simply cold. She could feel all his nasty feelings and touch all of his thoughts.
Astoria could not believe that she had reached a wavelength with Rabastan Lestrange, and based on his struggle for breath, neither could he. She tried yet again to throw him from her head. It didn't work — her own mind wouldn't even listen to her will. What had done it? She didn't even have a wand on her. Was it the strength of their present emotions? Shouldn't she have been able to figure this technique out with Professor Sinistra? Had she been too afraid of doing it wrong in front of her? Why was it working now? Even though it was a great achievement, it felt discreditable since it was with Rabastan.
Rabastan was astonished and had not yet used his privilege of blinking. No, wait, he didn't want to blink. He was afraid the wavelength would go away, because this had never worked for him before, either.
What… did you just do? his mind strummed.
I don't know, she thought.
Rabastan lifted one of the hands that had, moments ago, been hurting her, and rested it upon her cheek. How like him.
How did you do what you're doing? he begged again.
I don't know. I don't care. Stop asking, she wished.
I need to know how.
Rabastan suddenly removed the eye specula from Astoria's face and started rubbing his own eyelids. She shut her dry eyes and tried to blink as many tears into them as she could. The wavelength, though, did not go away. He held her face again and brushed it as though trying to get insects off of her, but the Legilimency did not flutter away.
Why are you still in my mind? Rabastan wondered in disbelief.
I DON'T KNOW.
Then you're trying to leave, right? Why do you keep trying to leave?
I HATE YOU.
Then why are you still in here? his thoughts circled, and when they circled, so did hers. She was sweeping through his whole week, then his whole month, then the past few months, not as a prying detective, but as though she had been him. She saw everything, even things he didn't want her to see. In the spiral, he saw everything, too. She didn't want him to see a single memory. Not a single one. And yet they couldn't get out.
Aurora did this all the time with Barty Crouch, Rabastan thought, and his palm trembled against Astoria's cheek. This is what she does with Severus Snape. But what IS this? This isn't what I was told it was.
Hell if I know! Astoria shot.
How do I do this with Aurora? How do I do this with Aurora? How do I do this with Aurora?
Shut it!
Quit taking my thoughts, then, you Mudblood-lover! You know I can't stop them!
I can't stop it, either!
They were in turmoil for an unknown amount of time. Eventually, the shock went away, and it became another state of presence. Rabastan then recalled the topic that had brought them to this point: the mirror he had used to trap Professor Sinistra.
What did you divine from that mirror, Astoria? he wondered, each saccade of his eye matching hers.
Rabastan saw Draco. He saw her family. He even saw the family she thought she might want someday. It was humiliating. And he saw Professor Sinistra, not with him, but with her husband. What she had seen in that mirror angered him; synchronously, what he had seen in the mirror sickened her.
You know those images are fake, Rabastan. It's not the future. I saw dead people in the mirror.
You'll be dead in the near enough future that you saw all your dearly departed! he thought heartlessly.
Even if I'm dead, you can't live your life based on something you saw through glass.
Astoria reeled at the contact with Rabastan, but her mind was locked in conversation. Her opinions and feelings were instantly transmitted to him, and she couldn't even dress them up the way she wanted. Then again, neither could he, and it was really showing.
Did I give you Stockholm Syndrome already? Ew, that's gross! We've only just met! Take me to dinner first at least! I'm sure you'll find a way to rationalise it the same way you justify having lover-boy Draco!
You're disgusting, she responded instantly.
I AM disgusting! Rabastan thought proudly. I know the goddamn mirror is fake. Do you think I'm stupid? All because I misspell things? I know how to work people. Why can't I play the 'boo-hoo I'm sick and sad' game, huh? Barty did, and it worked wonders on Aurora. Acted like a fucking lost puppy with her. 'Boo-hoo, Daddy doesn't love me!'
Barty Crouch was a different kind of sick than you, Rabastan.
She wished she would have kept that thought quiet. Every feeling, however, reached Rabastan the moment it birthed.
Oh, aren't we high and mighty, Astoria? Haven't you noticed that you do the same things I do?
He grabbed the hand she had marked with a sigil of Dark magic and traced his fingers in circles along the scar pattern in her palm, deriding her as he did so.
The ends justify the means for you, too. That's why you use Dark magic. You've always got your face in your grimoire these days. You're the type of person to think you're always right. I love it. You convince yourself that you're right no matter what evil you're doing.
Astoria tried again to detach from the connection, but something held them knotted.
Why are you so worked up about it, Astoria? You know I'm right. Take Pansy Parkinson for example. You don't care about her. You just wanted to feel like you did the right thing. It's all about how you feel! Not how she feels at all! You thought, 'oh no, Pansy's soooo gross for wanting Rabastan, and she'll put herself in danger. I'm an upstanding citizen, and I have to get her out of harm's way! There's no lust for Rabastan in me — nope, no sir, I'm a God-fearing Greengrass girl!'
He drew her hand to his heart. The beat was off.
What's so wrong with me, then, Astoria? I might be scratched up, but I'm damn good-looking. You think I'm too dirty for you? Well, I can see everything now, can't I…? You're pretty dirty yourself. And yet you think I go against nature. Ha! Look at nature, and try to tell me I go against nature. Oh, you are so self-righteous, Astoria Greengrass. Come on, convince me, too. Convince me you're right. You'll have so much fun. I'm such a good fucking listener, you know.
I don't know what the hell happened to you as a child to make you this way, Astoria seethed, but her raw earnestness made him press the wand tighter across her neck.
My childhood was bang all right, but if I told you it wasn't, would you make excuses for me the way you do for yourself? he thought with a smile. Or for the Carrows? For Draco?
Stop.
I don't think you want me to stop. You love the way I smell. You love exploring my mind. I'm something new, aren't I?
You arsehole! she thought again, having resorted to trying to wrench against the binding curse that held her to the embalming table.
If I was that much of an arsehole, we wouldn't still have this wavelength going, now, would we? Or maybe you're just as much an arsehole as me!
Astoria's headache throbbed. There was no comparison to be drawn between her and Rabastan, surely… This wavelength didn't mean anything. Two Legilimens made eye contact, that was all. They were not the same.
Well, like you, I think my people are doing this wrong, Rabastan interjected. Of course, you and I have different ideas about why it's going wrong, but it is going wrong. My people have done a fine job with the government, and the string-pulling, and the acquisition of power. Yet they aren't swaying public opinion. Obviously, we haven't swayed you. I can see it in your stupid, Mudwallowing head. We should be more insidious. The one who did it right before his dick got the better of him was old Grindelwald. He appealed to the people with what made sense. He didn't claim that Mudbloods were stealing magic itself. A six-year-old can see through that approach! I know Mudbloods come from Squibs. Then the Muggles reject them, as they did with your Clarkey friend. It'd be better for Mudbloods if they weren't born. It's Squibs that are the root of the problem, injecting old magical blood into the cesspool.
Astoria realised exactly how dangerous a philosophy she had stumbled upon in Rabastan's ranting head. If history had been different, and it was Rabastan running things instead of Voldemort, the Death Eaters might be even more certain to win. They would not only win against the resistance magically, but win over the "no-siders" by way of toxic rhetoric.
Well, thank you for the compliment, ma voyeuse, but I can't suggest any of this. Rodolphus and Bellatrix worship the Dark Lord. Don't get me wrong — I worship him as well. I would do anything for him. But he is simply so far removed from the world that he's not able to see past this one stupid boy named Potter. Society isn't changing round us! It's driving me mad. Nothing I'm doing is making society move in the right direction. Imagine what sort of world we could have if your priggish family championed the 'free magic' movement. See, if we call it 'free magic,' it already doesn't sound as bad! Alecto had over half of you captivated before she started prattling off about the 'stealing magic' theory. Then the whole class derailed, didn't it? She even had YOUR little nose in the air convinced —don't pretend she didn't! Oh, I could kill her for ruining her rapport. It was Rodolphus's doing, making her change the way she taught. That filthy cuckold. He doesn't know there are larger implications for every move we make.
Rabastan paused, and his thoughts agitated again as he held his eyes on hers. Nobody had ever listened to him before. He had never been able to put these ideas to speech, and that was fortunate for the Order's side of the war, but not for him. This wavelength couldn't truly be called listening, yet he would gladly, eagerly, even urgently, take the imitation. But wasn't he running out of time? Wasn't he supposed to kill her, to show that he was true to his threats?
Do you find me intelligent? he tried to Occlude, but it didn't work, and Astoria heard that neediness. Memories of Rodolphus's constant success only churned up more memories of Rabastan's failures. Rodolphus was so far ahead in age of him that his success was determined by the time Rabastan had even been Sorted. The brothers had always been destined for the Dark Lord's service, which is what they wanted, but Rabastan feared Rodolphus would outdo him in that aspect as well.
Do you find me intriguing? his mind betrayed him again, because Astoria Greengrass presently held such powerful emotion for him — even if it was hatred — and such indifference for Rodolphus! This was the first time anyone had been intimidated by Rabastan's intellect over his magic. Rabastan had been held back two years, couldn't spell, couldn't earn respect no matter what drastic measures he used.
Do you find me attractive, or is it just that I smell like Malfoy? Over the years, Rabastan had entertained many a thought of transfiguring into the bespeckled and nervous appearance of the lover of his obsession, just so that she would throw some piece of herself to him. Even in this moment, with a witch he didn't desire, any signs of her magnetism to him depended on his evocation of another wizard. Rodolphus was hefty and conventionally attractive unlike Rabastan, and he had been swarmed with the lust of witches ever since the stubble had first appeared on his chin. The only person who ever desired Rabastan in and of himself was Pansy Parkinson, and she was nothing, nothing! Her mind was critically uninteresting! Less a Legilimens and more a mesmerist, Astoria Greengrass was a dangerous concept. The longer he remained her captive, the longer it would take him to make good his threats to the witch who consumed him, Aurora Sinistra. Rabastan looked away from Astoria, but he was still incapable of detaching from their Legilimency wavelength. The connection deeply bothered him since it wasn't on his terms. He continued to wonder what was wrong, for it wasn't on Astoria's terms, either. So why had they adhered so well? He looked at his watch.
Ten minutes? Really? he thought.
Ten minutes what? Astoria pondered instinctively.
You have ten minutes for Aurora to find us before I kill you. I thought she would have by now. She's a very good witch. Maybe she doesn't love you as much as she hates me. Too bad for you, I guess.
Astoria's misery and confusion made it very difficult to think of escape plans. Their psyches were still completely woven together, so anything she came up with, Rabastan would know instantly. He even knew that she was thinking about that exact predicament. She considered the irony of dying on the equinox and wondered exactly how many before her had died on this same day due to their blood curse. Rabastan perked up and dived back on her face. He lifted his wand off of her neck, of mind to put it to use.
As far as Astoria could tell, they were no longer in the wavelength after that, but something worse was coming. Rabastan, sensing that the wavelength was gone, put the eye specula back to hold her eyelids, and her face felt like it would swell.
"I couldn't catch that last bit you thought. I know what that blank spot in people's heads means — you must be a Secret Keeper! Oh, Astoria, Secret Keepers are my absolute favourite!"
He took her hand again and cupped it over the ear-hole in the side of his head. It must have sounded like the ocean, the wind.
"I'm listening, Astoria. Let's see how long you last before you give me your big bad secret."