Chapter Four
Family
0o0
There was a small party in the common room that afternoon in honor of the triumphant Gryffindor quidditch team.
"Nice job on the megaphone," said Astoria, moving aside to make room for Lee Jordan at the sandwich tray. "Tell Harry that he was brilliant as well when you see him. George says he went down to Hagrid's for tea or I would do it myself!"
Astoria snatched a crab roll off the plate, eyeing Lee, whose commentary Pansy had hated so much, rather warmly.
"Thanks," Lee grinned, but the look was strained and he lowered his voice. "Look, I don't know if you know him or not but there's a Slytherin bloke outside the portrait hole right now and he's looking for you. The fat lady won't let him in, but he says he wants to talk to you."
Astoria blinked and slowly swallowed a mouthful of crab. Her first instinct was to think of Theodore but as they were no longer speaking, she did not see how this could be.
"I can tell him to go away if you want," Lee offered quickly, mistaking her lack of response for fear.
"No," said Astoria, "it's fine. Is he still outside?"
Lee nodded so Astoria finished the second half of her sandwich and made her way over to the portrait hole, trying not to become overly hopeful.
The hallway outside was chilly and very quiet compared to the celebratory turbulence within the common room. On the ground near the steps, bouncing a Gobbstone and chewing his lip, was Theodore Nott. He looked up hopefully when she came out.
"Oh, good," said Theo awkwardly, getting to his feet. "I wasn't sure if you would come. I've been waiting out here for a half hour."
"What were you waiting to say?" asked Astoria in an oddly formal voice, uncomfortable for the first time in Theodore's presence.
Theo cleared his throat and, for a moment, Astoria thought he might loose his nerve and leave again.
"Look, I'm sorry," he burst at last. "I shouldn't have said that thing about your mother. I knew it would make you angry. I was just so…" Theo petered off, searching for a way to articulate his thoughts eloquently, all the while becoming more and more angry with himself as he struggled.
Astoria folded her arms, waiting.
Theodore took a deep breath, and rushed on. "I'm sorry I got so mad at you about what Malfoy said. I know you weren't asking for it. It's just—" He hesitated again. "Look, I was afraid that you would agree with him, alright?"
"Why would I do that?" asked Astoria.
"I know you're a Gryffindor Astoria, but you have to be able to see this from my angle!" said Theodore angrily. "You're pretty and funny and socially clever. People will always immediately expect you to be special from the first second you walk into a room and I'm none of those things. You're the only real friend I've made since I came to Hogwarts. I was scared that you were going to realize the difference between us and think I was a creep or stop studying with me."
Astoria was overwhelmed. She had been hoping that Theodore had come to apologize but she had been expecting him to bring a dose of blame for her own behavior with him as well.
"The entire fight was stupid, anyway!" said Theodore, scuffing his boot on the floor angrily. "If you want to defect on me and become one of Malfoy's little sycophants just because he's rich and showy, then go ahead. You're better than that, though. And if admitting that I was wrong is what it takes to stop that from happening, I'll do it. I'm sorry, alright?"
Astoria moved forward and hugged him. Theodore froze and Astoria realized that the concept of hugging was probably naturally distasteful to him but she did not let go until his face had relaxed.
"I'm sorry too," said Astoria, stepping back. "I officially promise that I won't defect to Draco, if it means anything."
"You wouldn't live long if you did," said Theodore, smirking slyly. "Pansy would smother you."
Astoria laughed for the first time in almost a week, wiping her face with her hand.
"Was she telling the truth about you shooting your teacher?" asked Theodore, confirming Astoria's suspicions that he had been spying on her at the match.
"Old Dolly Umbridge?" asked Astoria. "Yeah, but in all fairness, the hag had it coming."
0o0
Christmas was coming, a fact that was brought home for Astoria mid-way through December when a letter from her aunt arrived at breakfast.
Now that they had made up again, Theodore had gone back to his usual habit of sitting with Astoria in the mornings. Something about the look on Astoria's face while she read the address on her aunt's envelope must have hinted at the fact that the letter she was holding did not contain Christmas tidings however, because Theo suddenly became nosy.
"Who's that from?" he asked, struggling to read Belladonna's thin, elegant script from across the table.
"My aunt," said Astoria, smiling wryly.
"Which one is that?" asked Theodore
"Belladonna," Astoria sighed carelessly, opening the letter.
Theodore's face cracked into a surprised grin are he absorbed this. "It never occurred to me that Belladonna Lestrange must be your aunt!" he said excitedly.
Belladonna's reputation as a motivated seductress was almost renowned and Astoria immediately began to wish that she had not mentioned her name. Theodore might have been clever enough to trace Astoria's maternal lineage back to Lucrezia, but if there was any chance that he could have forgotten about Belladonna, Astoria would have preferred it to stay that way.
"Who's related to Belladonna Lestrange?" drawled Draco Malfoy, who had just happened to be walking by at the exact moment that Theodore had spoken. Draco stopped to lean against the end of the table. "Trying to be impressive, Nott? Don't listen to a word of it, Astoria. His mother was a Rookwood."
Theodore stared at Astoria, at an apologetic loss, a trace of anxiety regarding their last fight evident on his face. Theodore turned to Draco immediatly and Astoria knew that he was going to lie for her
"He wasn't saying anything of the kind," said Astoria firmly, wanting to stop Theodore from shaming himself before he even began. "I was."
"How?" drawled Draco dubiously, narrowing his eyes slightly. "By marriage?"
This was a fair guess, as Belladonna had been married four times but since all of Belladonna's marriages had ended—not by divorce, but by the early and suspicious deaths of all of her husbands—it was still a rather vulgar way of asking.
"Belladonna was my mother's sister, actually," said Astoria tensely, hoping Draco would drop it.
"So she married your uncle?" pried Draco further.
"No," said Astoria, pulling the letter out of the envelope in order to have something to look at that was not Malfoy's face. "They were born sisters."
"Your mother was a Lestrange?" said Draco sharply, his eyes narrowing still further.
"Yes," said Astoria tersely, reading sentences on the page before her but taking in none of the words.
"No she wasn't," Draco decided at last, scoffing and looking unsure. "What was her name?" he demanded, perhaps thinking that by asking quickly, he might manage to throw Astoria off and expose her claim as a lie.
"Lucrezia," said Astoria wearily.
This name seemed to ring a bell for Draco however, because he was staring at her appraisingly. Astoria could tell that to Draco, who valued blood and birth connections much more than he ought to, this news was something a game changer.
"Rabastan and Rudolphus Lestrange are your uncles?" he continued, his tone becoming almost insulting.
"Yes," said Astoria, this time almost angrily. "Do you mind, I'm trying to read a letter?"
"Why would your father remarry, then?" insisted Draco. "What happened to your mother?"
"She died," Astoria lied, becoming increasingly uncomfortable and more than a little aggressive.
"When did she die?" asked Draco, his pale eyes brightening a little too knowingly.
"The year I was born," said Astoria curtly.
Malfoy glanced slowly over to the Gryffindor table, where Astoria ought to have been sitting, and a kind of awful recognition began to register on his features. "What killed her?" he asked carefully.
"Death," said Astoria smartly, glaring.
"Oy, Astoria," said Fred Weasley, approaching from being Draco. "Are you done eating yet?"
"What's going on?" asked George, picking up on the strange tension immediately.
"Malfoy's just been attempting to come to intimate terms with Astoria's blood status," said Theodore, willingly speaking to George for the first time ever.
Fred's face went dark. "Is that so? Well, if your mother was the muggle town mayor, it's nothing to us Astoria and we have pressing business that needs to be discussed."
Malfoy laughed cruelly at the irony of this statement.
Astoria stuffed her aunt's letter into her pocket and got up, grabbing her bag from under her seat, wanting to leave before Draco said anything to the twins about her family. She walked directly past Malfoy, who scoffed disbelievingly in response to words she had never said, and followed Fred and George toward the entrance hall.
"That kid seems like a real twerp," said George when they had reached the courtyard. "Who is he anyway?"
"That's Draco," said Astoria. "He's Lucius Malfoy's son."
Fred whistled. "Well that explains it. I thought he seemed a bit cheeky."
"He's more than cheeky," said Astoria with a grin.
"His dad was a Death Eater, you know," cautioned Fred with a frown. "One of the worst kind too, if Dad knows what he's talking about. Malfoy told all sorts of lies when You Know Who disappeared to stay out of jail. That's bad blood, there. You'd best steer clear of him."
Astoria's smile faded and her aunt's letter began to feel like stone in her pocket.
"What did you want to talk about?" asked Astoria, trying to look brightly interested instead of embarrassed and tense.
They had reached the seat upon which they had once drank old butterbeer together. A fresh snow had fallen the night before, leaving a soft down of ice on the bench. Astoria tucked her hand up into her robes and brushed off a place to lean against with the sleeve of her shirt.
"Straight to it then," said George excitedly. "Fred and I have been doing a lot of thinking about ourselves lately."
"Shocking, I know," said Fred, grinning from ear to ear, "but introspection is best done in pairs."
"We're coming to realize that our life calling falls a little bit out of the way of what you might call 'the academic path'," George admitted.
"Still," added Fred, "some might say that we have the fine, even visionary, spirit of entrepreneurs."
Astoria snorted.
"We're thinking marketable products," said George. "The kind of stuff that we find ourselves wishing we could buy in our day to day lives."
"Sweets that make you puke colors, hats that explode like bombs, you get the idea," rattled Fred.
"Then, we realized that the only thing stopping us from being purveyors of such fine tangible mischief was funding," said George.
"Where do I come in to this?" asked Astoria dubiously.
"We want to open up a betting pool on the quidditch league," said George.
"We know it's against the rules, but we think the game could do with a bit of shaking up," said Fred. "Not to mention what we could do with the profit."
"It's hard for us to push the idea, though, as we are both already on a house team." said Fred. "Might come off as a bit biased, you know?"
"I suppose," Astoria conceded.
"So we thought to ourselves, who else posses a fine business acumen? Who else has proven to have an errant disrespect for the rules, but is clever enough not to get caught?"
"Who has a dad that practices the law in case we all get caught?" added George pointedly.
"You want to start a basement gambling ring on the quidditch cup?" asked Astoria, getting the measure now. "You want me to help out as— what, a bookie? A treasurer?"
"Precisely!" said George.
Astoria considered this exciting prospect. Truthfully, she liked the idea of working with Fred and George nearly as much as she liked the idea of starting a black market movement.
"I don't really need the pocket change," admitted Astoria honestly.
"You're still a Gryffindor, aren't you?" asked Fred solidly. "We live for the rush! Fortune favors the brave!"
"Alright," Astoria agreed, laughing. "We'll need to figure out some way to keep out bets private though. Otherwise people might be too afraid to put money down."
"Of course," said Fred.
"Oh, and we'll need start up funding to cover the odds on all the bets until after the next game," continued Astoria, undaunted.
"What for?" asked George, looking as though this threw a wrench into his plan.
"In case some freak coincidence happens and everybody somehow manages to win their bets at once," said Astoria firmly, actually sitting on the cold bench to think. "We'd need to be able to pay them."
"We haven't got any savings," Fred admitted.
"I do," Astoria shrugged. "It's not much, but it would probably be enough for something like this."
George beamed at her.
0o0
Astoria did not get a chance to read her aunt's letter in privacy until later that evening. When Astoria was finally in bed at last and under the covers, she opened the note and began to read quietly to herself, listening to the muffled sounds of Lavender's sleep talking.
Astoria,
A merry Christmas to you darling! I hope that your first term has been an educational one and that you have spent some of your free time in reflection. It has been weeks since I have last written to you, a fact which I hope has not gone unnoticed. I will not lie, I have been very angry and it has been far too long since I have seen you.
I spoke to your father yesterday. I swear, I will never get over the sound and yet the senselessness of that man! Yet, after a much-winded conversation (one that might have been pruned to mere sentences in the hands of a more sensible listener) I was finally able to bring him to the conclusion that you, Astoria, are in a time of crisis. Your father and I have agreed that what you truly need this holiday season is guidance. A rebellious weed, after all, will never grow into a rose.
You will therefore be delivered directly to me at the beginning of your break and we will spend your vacation together rethinking our strategy, as tradition, it seems, has already been eschewed.
Much love,
Aunt Belladonna.
0o0
The holidays officially started against the backdrop of a whirl of snow. The season had declared itself festive but Astoria could not help but feel her mood to be exactly the opposite.
Astoria was more accustomed to staying at her aunt's house—an old, three story stone affair—in the summer time. As such, Astoria had never before appreciated how much of the house's charm was owed to the very pretty gardens and forestation surrounding it. With the gathering snow clinging to the windowpanes and a cruel wind gusting outside, Astoria was left to stalk about the house's semi-darkened rooms without purpose.
There were three guest bedrooms on the second floor but, as always, Astoria preferred to sleep in the attic. Her bedroom was one of only two rooms on that floor, having been converted from a storage space that had once been used to hold her long dead relatives summer wardrobes. This made sense because the house itself, when the Lestrange family had known more prosperous days, had once been considered a summer retreat. After the fall of the Dark Lord and the subsequent imprisonment of all of Belladonna's siblings however, Astoria's aunt had made it her permanent residence.
There was nothing strictly rustic about Belladonna's home; it could still generously host a dinner party for eight, after all, but it was not the house in which Belladonna had grown up. The majority of that part of the Lestrange estate had been entailed away in the male line centuries before. This meant that Astoria's uncles controlled the real family fortune, only they were imprisoned and unable to access it, while Aunt Belladonna (the youngest and a female) had been left with nothing but the family's old vacation home.
Astoria did not believe for a moment that this fact had ever far from her aunt's mind. After all, her aunt had gone on to marry and then widow herself four times.
Still, there was a feeling of once-greater grandeur in every nook of Aunt Belladonna's property. Several of the rooms on the first floor remained unaltered since the time before Astoria's grandparents had died and they had the stiff, uncomfortable feeling of a museum to them. In Belladonna's opinion, she (and by association, Astoria) had been deprived of a higher dignity. They had been held back, but Belladonna tended to view her status as wounded rather then fatally injured. She had been on the bench for several years, but she was not out of the game.
"Astoria, don't slouch!" said Belladonna bossily. "You're a young woman not a willow tree."
Astoria and Belladonna were having breakfast over tea service in the sitting room. The sitting room, with its multitudinous windows overlooking the closest outcropping of forest, was the brightest room in the house.
Astoria straightened her back and gazed out one of the windows, looking as deeply into the woods as branches and snowfall would allow her eyes to reach.
"I sometimes wonder what I did to deserve your attitude," mused Belladonna out loud rather gracefully, stirring sugar into her tea.
"What do you mean?" asked Astoria moodily.
"I give you the best advice that I can, based on years of experience. I promote you. I do what I can to fix the mistakes you have made so that you do not suffer from them," Belladonna listed effortlessly. "What do you give me but your pubescent ire and your black moods? This tea really is lovely, don't you think?"
Astoria nodded and took another sip. There was something spiced and vaguely confectionery about the way that it lingered on her tongue.
"Have you been practicing your French?" asked Belladonna after a lengthy silence that was broken only by the howling of the wind in the eaves.
Astoria had not, as there was no need to. She had learned French as a very young girl and it was not a subject that she needed reinforcement in.
"Yes," Astoria lied. "Why?"
Belladonna raised her china cup to her lips and forced Astoria to wait in anxious anticipation.
"Because Aston seems intent on a book-tour this summer," Belladonna admitted at last. "You know that he wrote that silly historical volume on Turkish mythology? He's quite keen on having you join him for a spell in August."
This was the best news Astoria had heard since she had received her Hogwarts letter.
Aston Mendel was an old family friend of Astoria's mother— an old lover if one listened to gossip. When Lucrezia Lestrange had known Aston, he had still been a struggling, ambitious man, anxious to dip a toe into the world of business but much had changed since the war.
Aston came from a very old but nearly penniless family that had exhausted their fortune fortune before he had even been born. After the fall of Dark Lord however, Aston had gone from being a pretentious upstart to becoming as rich as any royal with an infamous reputation to match his wealth.
It was through Aston that Lucrezia had eventually met Astoria's father, a fact that Astoria secretly suspected was something of a thorn in Aston's remarkably good-natured side.
Even in light of all this potential bad blood, Aston was one of Astoria's most favorite people in the world. The fact that he chose to honor Astoria's existence despite the fact that Lucrezia had eventually left him for another man was just one of the many ways that Aston had always managed to make Astoria feel worthy; something Belladonna had never done particularly well. Astoria had been to visit Aston Mendel's family many times in the summer as a child. Aston's son Maudlin was three years older than her and reminded Astoria a little of Draco, except that Maudlin was her senior and much more prone to ignoring Astoria than provoking her.
Belladonna had never been overly fond of Aston. He was too much of his own mind and too neuveau riche for Belladonna's tastes. Aston played ridiculous lawn sports with the vigor of a man half his age or distinction, drove a muggle automobile for fun despite the ill fashion of such a hobby among the pureblood community and possibly owed the greater part of his current fortune to the disappearance of a camp of gypsies some fourteen years previously. Astoria adored him.
"Oh, that sounds like fun," said Astoria, afraid of revealing her true enthusiasm for this plan in case it made Belladonna want to deny her permission to go. "Just think, Auntie! if I embarrass you, it'll be on his hands and in another country."
"What a blessed prospect," said Belladonna flatly. "So, tell me about Hogwarts. You have hardly said a word about your classmates."
The topic of friends was not one that Astoria wished to expand upon, certain that the acquaintances she had made would not live up to Belladonna's high expectations. Astoria's thoughts flashed toward the Weasley twins and she felt herself withdraw.
"I'm quite fond of Theodore Nott," said Astoria, testing the water.
"Bah," said Belladonna dismissively. "That's a proud lineage to be sure, but if the son is anything like the father I would not put much stock in that friendship, darling."
Astoria thought of the note that she had written Theo the day after break had begun:
Theo,
Arrived at Aunt Belladonna's. She is feeling seasonal this year. I think she hopes to curb my burgeoning blood traitorousness with an overwhelming supply of poinsettias. Must escape!
-Astoria
When Theo had still not written back by the next evening, Astoria had sent him a second, slightly more desperate note.
Theodore,
I suppose you are very busy or else you did not receive my letter, because I can't think why else you haven't written me back. Aunt Belladonna is in something of a 'mood'. My lessons in self improvement do not seem to be going well. Last night she drank a bottle of wine with dinner and informed me that it is high time I took dance lessons because I walk like the kind of goat that Amos Diggory would like to sit on. I do not know what this means. Send the date of the next full afternoon you have free. I want to come visit you.
Please.
-Astoria
It was the third day of vacation and Astoria still had not had word from him.
"You just don't like them because they aren't very fashionable," Astoria argued. "Theodore is wildly smart, even if he isn't attractive."
"Fashion is only armor, Astoria," said Belladonna sharply. "A social and observant mind is the sword. You would not believe the number of people who go around calling themselves intellectuals who are really insufficient in both brains and wit."
0o0
By the next morning, Astoria was through with waiting. For reasons that she could not fathom, Theodore was ignoring her. This seemed doubly odd to Astoria as it was Theodore who had first offered up his address so that they could continue to communicate over break.
Astoria spent the morning in her attic bedroom, pacing. Outside the warped glass of her window, the storm that had been raging for days had finally settled down. Thick flakes were falling softly toward the ground and building up on the windowsill.
The address that Theodore had given her was for Upper Flagley and Astoria had almost convinced herself to journey out and attempt to hunt him down when a pecking sound against the windowpane startled her. Astoria crossed to let the owl in at once, untying the letter attached to its leg.
Astoria,
Not busy. Come today. You can only stay till mid afternoon, so come early. Dad is out.
Use floo to get to the inn on the outskirts of town. Take your first left on main street and follow the road up the hill. After a few minutes there will be a lane with two stone markers. I will meet you outside.
-Theo
P.S. Millicent Bulstrode has also threatened to stop by, so wear something thick because she's been known to bite.
The main connection to the floo network in Astoria's aunt's house was in the kitchen, although it was possible to arrive and leave from the living room and third floor store-room as well. In this case however, the kitchen was better suited to Astoria's needs, because it was the place that her aunt was the least likely to be and there was no powder to be had in the attic.
Wobbles the house-elf was busy making a meat pie on the wooden counter when Astoria slipped in. Wobbles, spotting her, immediately made a motion to pat the flour off of her hands.
"If my aunt asks," said Astoria bravely, stopping the elf from wiping the flour off her hands, "tell her I've gone out for the afternoon."
The look on Wobbles face seemed to convey that she was not entirely comfortable with this but she nodded obediently anyway. Astoria took a pinch of floo powder from the engraved matchbox near the hearth and tossed a handful into the flames, hoping that Wobbles did not see Belladonna until evening.
Astoria exited the inn that Theodore had mentioned to find herself on a country road. Doing as she had been told, Astoria took her first left and began to climb the hill that had been described in Theo's letter. The track was steep and lined with oak trees, so Astoria kept a sharp lookout for the stone markers that were supposed to tell her when she had found Theodore's drive. She spotted them at last, near the top of the hill, and began to walk faster, her pale cheeks burning from the chill and the exercise.
The drive tapered off thinly and when Astoria reached the end she met a set of very old, wrought iron gates that a person of average body size could easily duck under. Framing this set of gates were two bushes in need of a good trim and marbleized by snow. Standing next to one of these bushes was Theodore Nott. Sitting on a rock beside him, wide as a doorway and looking sulky, was Millicent Bulstrode. Astoria broke into an ungainly run toward them, grinning broadly. Theo waved his hello.
"Good," Theo sighed when she had reached them. "You didn't get lost. Millicent was flat out against walking into the village to look for you."
Millicent blinked gloomily and climbed off the rock. Her shoulders were as thick as Astoria and Theo's put together and she seemed to have the kind of hunch that one normally only met with in old ladies. Astoria took in these details but noticed for the first time that Millicent's hair was brushed and that she had small earrings in both ears.
"Hello," said Astoria politely. "You're Millicent, aren't you? I'm Astoria."
Millicent blinked slowly, silently looking Astoria up and down. Without even saying a word, Millicent's opinion was clear; she found something about Astoria to be highly unpleasant.
"Let's walk into the garden," said Theo. "It's frozen, but the old well is a nice place to sit."
They skirted the edge of the lawn, keeping as wide a distance from the house as they could. Astoria wondered uncomfortably if this was on her account and she turned to stare at Theodore's home as they walked. The architecture itself was quite lovely but several of the shutters on the third floor had become loose and a lattice for climbing plants near one of the doorways appeared to be more than halfway rotten.
The garden that Theo had spoken of was in a similar state of disrepair. It was shaped like a large stone circle, sunken into the ground, at the center which was an old well. Three stone benches were built into the walls. One of these seats was nearly completely crumbled and the other two were showing signs of great distress. Between the benches stood several small statues of Greek heroes. Astoria examined a stone likeness of Hermes with interest. He was missing fingers and half of his face been been eroded, but what little remained was rounded and pretty.
"So," said Theo casually, "how are things at the punishment retreat?"
Theodore spoke as if he were perfectly at ease but there was something ungainly and twitchy about the way that he kept looking back toward his house that made Astoria feel tense at once.
"Heinous," said Astoria dramatically, scooping up a rock and dropping it down the well. The rock landed out of sight with a plink! on solid ice. "One minute my aunt will be drunkly insisting that I learn how to dance and the next she's soberly banning the idea, afraid no men will want me because I'll be too buff from physical exercise."
Theo laughed deeply at this but Millicent rolled her eyes and ambled off to sit on a bench.
"What's with her?" Astoria whispered, looking down into the well and squinting into the darkness.
"You're a Gryffindor and your shoulders are symmetrical," said Theo in a low voice. "Cut her some slack."
"Is she upset that I'm here?" asked Astoria, surprised by how depressed this idea secretly made her feel.
"Confused, mostly," said Theo. "She doesn't quite understand why we're friends. She thinks that anybody who isn't physically ugly is usually stupid and that I'm being really shallow for hanging around with you."
Astoria looked at Millicent, who was still sitting on the bench, looking up at the sky and chewing the inside of her mouth in a slow, bovine way.
Suddenly there was a great deal of noise coming from the direction of the house. Astoria looked back toward it in surprise but Theodore jumped and his face went very pale.
A man with long, greying hair, wearing a dusty looking brown cloak was stomping toward them. He was swatting at the falling snow as though the flakes were mosquitoes and swearing loudly.
"WHAT IS THIS?" the man demanded as he drew level with them, panting hard. His nostrils flared with each breath he took as he looked from Astoria to Millicent suspiciously, trying to identify an enemy in disguise.
Theodore began to stutter but the man—presumably Theo's father—was not looking at him. He was looking at Astoria, who he did not recognize and becoming more worked up by the second.
"MUGGLES from the village, is it?" roared Mr. Nott, clenching his fists around an invisible object and looking frankly insane. "Filthy, snooping MUGGLES?"
"Father, no!" Theo begged.
"I'm Astoria Greengrass," said Astoria firmly, conscious of the fact that her legs had turned to jelly. "I'm not a muggle, I'm—"
"TRICKS!" Mr. Nott bellowed. "I'll show you a real trick!" He produced his wand from inside of his cloak.
"What tricks?" Astoria had backed up so far that her back was pressed into the stone wall, a furious fear spreading to her fingertips like fire. "I'm not tricking you!"
"Father!" yelled Theodore, looking perhaps more terrified than Astoria was.
"YOU WANT TO PLAY?" demanded Mr. Nott, making a violent swishing motion in Astoria's direction before reaching toward his pocket, in search of some other weapon.
"What, have you got a deck of cards in there, too?" Astoria bellowed irrationally, trying to move away from the wall because it was covered with stabbing vines.
"Astoria!" yelled Theodore in anguish.
Mr. Nott, instead of becoming angrier, seemed to pause instead.
Astoria could see Theodore's eyes darting wildly between her and Mr. Nott, perhaps trying to decide if he liked Astoria enough to risk being murdered by his own father.
Then, Mr. Nott tilted his head back and let out a roaring laugh that crackled like an old phonograph. He pointed at Astoria with a long, gnarled finger. "This one's got spunk. I'll give her that. Not a muggle, eh?" He rubbed a hand across his unshaven chin. "Not a muggle..."
glanced at Theodore warily, seeking assurance, as he did not seem to be able to tell the difference between house guests and foes.
"That's Astoria!" snapped Theodore. "She's not a muggle, so put your wand away! Her dad is George Greengrass!"
"A LAWYER?" Mr. Nott literally spat into the falling snow. "That's not much better then a muggle in my book!"
"Her mom was Lucrezia Lestrange," Theo quickly went on, trying a different angle.
Mr. Nott raised his eyebrows and peered at Astoria inquisitively. Perhaps he saw some of Lucrezia's looks in Astoria because he finally seemed to relax. "I knew your mother, girl. An age or so ago. You've got some of her spirit."
Theodore was still shaking but the real danger seemed to have passed.
"I never met her," said Astoria, maintaining eye contact the way she had been taught to do if she ever ran afoul of large animals.
"Astoria is a Gryffindor," said Millicent, breaking her vow of silence. Millicent had gotten up off of the bench and her expression was bizarrely gleeful.
"Gryffindor, eh?" Mr. Nott grumbled. "Well, at least you've got nerve. That's more then I could say for most of the race." He turned around, and grumbled, "You can bring her in for tea, Theodore."
The three children followed Mr. Nott across the lawn in rigid silence. Millicent's energy had taken a turn for the cheerful but Theodore looked as though he had just been sentenced to hang. They scaled the front steps, stepping over bits of plaster that appeared to have fallen from the top of the doorway and entered Theodore's house. They followed Mr. Nott until they reached a library, which seemed to be doubling as his study.
The walls in this room were crowded with books, but not the formal leather kind that one usually found in a family library. These were well-worn books with cracked spines and stains on them. The air smelled faintly of pipe tobacco and dusty velvet which, the latter of which Astoria attributed to the musty curtains that hung from the windows, nearly obscuring the natural light completely.
A brass lamp on top of a desk served as the primary source of illumination but Mr. Nott stopped at a low, wooden table. He motioned that they should seat themselves as they liked in whatever velvet upholstered chairs they chose. Astoria sat down gingerly and peered about her in the warm gloom, thinking that she had never been in a space that seemed more like Theodore before than the one she was sitting in.
Mr. Nott rang a bell and a house elf appeared. He ordered tea in a strained and vaguely uncomfortable way, giving Astoria the impression that he was long out of the habit of entertaining. Then he sat down in the most comfortable looking chair across from Theodore. Nobody said a word until the tea arrived.
Somewhere a clock was ticking. Astoria reached forward and edged a book that had been left face down on the table out from underneath a stack of papers so that she could read the cover. It was entitled: 'House Elves & Self Hatred'.
Inches away from Theodore's foot, which was nervously bobbing, a worn copy of a comic called 'The Adventures of Martin Miggs, The Mad Muggle' had been abandoned half-way through. Astoria struggled to reconcile the idea of these two pieces of literature being read by the same man and quickly gave up.
"Hmph," said Mr. Nott, scoffing at nothing.
Astoria pointed at the book on house elves and broke the silence, "Are you reading that because of the new law?"
"I'm reading it for the humor," Mr. Nott barked, smiling rather nastily.
On an ottoman nearby was another stack of books with titles such as, "Lupine Lawlessness: Why Lycanthropes Don't Deserve to Live', 'Flesh Eating Trees of the World' and, perhaps most disconcerting of all, a copy of 'Enchantment in Baking'.
"What are you reading now?" asked Astoria, striving the break the silence.
Mr. Nott produced a copy of 'The Dark Arts: A Goblin's Companion' from behind an umbrella stand that was stuffed with knobby old sticks and what looked suspiciously like a femur, thrusting it roughly at Astoria.
Astoria flipped through the book but it was mostly written in Gobbledygook and she could not make heads or tails of it.
"You speak Gobbledygook?" she asked, noting that someone had written into the margins frequently and with a slashing, irate hand.
"Of course I do," barked Mr. Nott. "That's the only way to convince Goblins not to rob you, the greedy littleshits!"
Theodore made a sound of unmistakable misery.
The tea had had cooled. Mr. Nott picked up the teapot to pour but his hands were shaking so badly that he spilled on the table top.
"Here, let me," said Astoria.
Mr. Nott jerked away but his hands continued to tremble so he slammed the teapot back down and motioned that she should do it if she wanted to.
"Everybody who isn't kidding themselves ought to be able to understand goblins when they speak," Mr. Nott went on, picking up where he had left off. "If they control the banking system, Goblins, they control the money, I say! You can't get a decent appraisal for a brass chamber pot without having to consult a Goblin these days! It's a system that's been ripe for a coup for centuries."
Astoria filled all four cups with tea and began dispensing them. Across the table, Theodore was watching her with a mixture of embarrassment and awe.
"But Goblins are subservient to wizards," said Millicent, clearly parroting a truth that had been reinforced in her home since she was a child.
"HAH!" Mr. Nott scoffed loudly. "It's precisely that sort of thinking that will lead to the pureblood demise!"
"How do you figure?" pressed Millicent, looking slightly offended.
"Creatures of sound mind are only subservient if we MAKE them be," said Mr. Nott furiously. "The second we start to forget that fact and think everything is in order is the second we will be attacked from behind!"
Astoria listened with interest, thinking that Mr. Nott might have a point even if his manner of expressing it was vaguely insane.
"Do they have a different alphabet, goblins?" Astoria asked, looking at the indiscernible pages of the book.
"Eh?" said Mr. Nott. His long grey hair was hanging loosely about his thin, ungainly face and Astoria was struck by how much Mr. Nott looked like his son when he was not raving. "A series of symbols. Some of them share roots with Mermish letters—which begs the question, who first translated Mermish, the wizards or the goblins? But that is a whole different matter."
"Can you show me some?" asked Astoria.
Mr. Nott spent the next hour writing down various symbols and letters on a piece of parchment and then demanding that Astoria repeat them out loud. If Astoria pronounced anything wrong, he became impatient and unfriendly. By the time she was ready to leave however, Astoria seemed to have impressed Mr. Nott enough that he made her take a copy of an encyclopedia of grammar written by a goblin named 'Ragnock the Pigeon Toed' with her.
Instead of returning to the inn, Astoria was allowed to use the house fire to leave. As she was stepping into the flames, Astoria distinctly heard Mr. Nott say in a low, grumbling voice to his son, "You can bring her again." He began to shuffle out of the room and then paused. "Don't skulk around the yard. Don't think I don't know what you were doing, hiding out there."
Astoria clutched the borrowed book a little tighter, feeling an immense pity for her friend as the fire spun her away.
0o0
Christmas morning dawned brightly, filtering in through Astoria's attic windows in clean slats of winter light. Astoria turned her attention toward the pile of presents on top of her thick comforter excitedly.
Her father had sent three quills, a new silver tie clip for her school uniform and a certificate for an tailor in London up to the amount of one formal dress.
Daphne had sent a package of Droobles Best Bubble gum and a felt sunhat that Astoria would not be able to wear for months. Astoria put the hat aside, thinking of her the trip to France she might be taking that summer, and opened the package from her stepmother Beatrice. This package contained a pair of stretched out gloves. Astoria inspected them, faintly let down, wondering if Beatrice had attempted to try them on for herself first only to find that they were too tiny for her own hands.
Last in the pile was a square parcel with a note attached, conspicuously wrapped in antique newspaper. Astoria read the note first.
Astoria,
Another book for you. Father randomly suggested that you might like it this evening and I took that to mean that he was giving me permission to send it to you. He says that when you read it, you'll start to 'see what goblins are all about.'
I'm sorry about tea.
Theo.
It was a very old and battered copy of an autobiography by Ug The Unreliable. This was perhaps the oddest and least attractive gift Astoria had received, but it was by far her favorite.
Aunt Belladonna saved her gift and did not give it to Astoria until after Christmas lunch.
Belladonna had invited her old friend Priscilla Orpington over to eat with them, which meant that Astoria was forced to dress nicely and behave attentively.
Priscilla was a relative of the famous Evangeline Orpington, who had created the concealed platform 9 3/4 at kings cross station, and she did not let Astoria or Belladonna forget it even for a second during the three hours that she dined with them. When Priscilla was finally gone, Astoria threw her napkin onto the sideboard and sighed with relief.
"That was tedious, wasn't it?" remarked Belladonna, pushing back the Queen Anne dinning room chair that she had been sitting in and getting up to pour herself a drink.
"If you think so too, why do we have to see her at all?" Astoria wondered out loud, staring up at the ceiling.
"Because," said Belladonna with almost no patience, "her great grandmother was a Minister of Magic and she still commands a trifling amount of respect in certain circles."
"Well," said Astoria tartly, "you can count me out of those 'circles' for life."
"Nonsense," said Aunt Belladonna scathingly. "You say that now because you're a child and you don't know any better. Why else do you think I continue to court and simper to these people, if not for you? My time for forging alliances has largely passed, Astoria."
Belladonna had come to stand next to Astoria. Astoria looked back down from the ceiling and was surprised to find that her aunt had poured her a glass of wine as well. Astoria had never been allowed to drink before because Belladonna had always judged it unseemly. Astoria's eyes drifted to the small wine glass with a sense of foreboding.
"I have a gift for you,"said Belladonna, returning to the sideboard and producing a small package wrapped in silver paper from the cabinet. She put it down in front of Astoria and sat back down.
"What is it?" said Astoria, staring at the present doubtfully.
"It's a gift," her aunt snapped, "and for heavens sake, drink that! Its the birthright of the old order to be able to hold their liquor so you may as well start now."
Astoria sipped the wine she had been given gratefully. It was dry and pleasantly cold and gave her something to do with her fingers other than fidget nervously. She swallowed and turned her attention to removing the silver wrapping paper on her gift. Inside was a long, thin box. Astoria undid the latch on the front and flipped it open. On a cushion of luxurious looking velvet sat a diamond and ruby necklace so old and expensive looking that Astoria's jaw actually dropped.
"It was your grandmother's," said Belladonna. "She left it to me before she died. Traditionally, it would have been yours on your eighteenth birthday but with things the way they are, I thought it might be more prudent to go ahead and give it to you now."
Despite the blatant double motive, Astoria was touched. When anything from the family vault was passed down a generation it was always with formal pomp and Belladonna did not disappoint.
"Use it to remind yourself of where you come from, Astoria," said Belladonna, her moody, heart shaped face earnest in her manipulation. Belladonna's somber brown eyes seemed to smolder. "And thank the heavens that so many of the Lestrange jewels were done in ruby. They won't clash with your terrible house colors. "
Astoria took a hard, anxious gulp of wine.
0o0
So, what do you think?
This chapter leaves Hogwarts for a bit. I'm sorry if anyone was disappointed by the lack of school culture. On the bright side however, this chapter also introduces Mr. Nott and Belladonna Lestrange, who are two of my favorite characters to write in this tale. Both will be back in later sections of the story so I thought it was a good idea to introduce them early. Especially because they both serve a bit of a purpose in helping to show what life is life in the wizarding world when you aren't a muggle-born. The Harry Potter books show so little of what it would be like to grow up as a pureblood (I imagine the Weasleys are probable a little unusual even as far wizarding society goes) and the idea has always been interesting to me.
Anyway, drop a review if you're feeling kind! They always make my day.