Chapter 2

Astoria woke up in St. Mungo's. Her mother was sitting to the right of her bed. Her father was talking intensely with a Healer who seemed to be telling him something he didn't want to hear. That always makes him crease his eyebrows like that, she thought blearily.

"Astoria, darling?" Her mother had noticed she was awake. The healer and her father broke off their conversation.

"Mum?" Her mother's eyes welled with tears that spilled over her cheeks. Abstractly, Astoria was always amazed at how graceful her mother looked when crying. She looked over at her father, and a wave of embarrassment rose over her.

"Dad. Dad, I'm so sorry." She felt tears prick her own eyes, but fought them back. She knew she looked the opposite of graceful when she cried. Her pale skin always turned blotchy.

Her father had walked up steadily to her left side and placed his hand over hers. He wasn't the overly affectionate type, but Astoria always knew he cared. "Astoria, darling, this isn't because of anything you did," he reassured her.

But she was suddenly acutely aware of the expressions on all three of their faces. They looked as though someone had died. "What?" She frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that? What's wrong with me?" She felt her voice rise at the end, threatening to break.

Her mother grasped her other hand, preparing to say something serious. "Astoria, we have some bad news."

It felt as though her spine had turned to ice. "What do you mean?"

"Do you remember us telling you about your ancestress, Isobel Selwyn?" Astoria felt very confused. Why was her mother asking her this? Still feeling as though she'd swallowed a box of Ice Mice whole, she tried to remember what she'd been taught about her proud family lineage.

"Was she the one who was cursed by a witch who loved her husband?" It had seemed like a properly romantic (and silly) tale at the time. Astoria had no idea what that had to do with the looks on their faces.

"That's right," her mother continued, her voice shaking but controlled. "It was a terrible curse. No one was ever able to reverse it, and Isobel suffered greatly from it." She opened her mouth to continue, but no sound came out.

Her father's hand tightened over Astoria's. "It was more than just Isobel. The witch that cast it made it so that it was handed down through generations."

Astoria was speechless. She tried hard to think of what to say, but her head was full of so many questions. She looked up at her parents, and was so scared at the veiled panic in their eyes, she instead looked at the healer. His eyes were calm in a practised way.

"What are you saying? That I have inherited the curse?"

"That's what we think." The healer spoke directly to her, his tone kind but authoritative. She had a fleeting sense of gratitude that this man was treating her as a grown-up, and not as a nine-year-old. "It seems to affect your blood, which is why you lost consciousness. You've been out cold for two days now."

Astoria shut her eyes fiercely. She'd never been a moody or emotional child, but all this news had made her inexplicably angry. She pulled her hands away from her parents' grasps and hugged herself tightly.

"Astoria, we're going to figure this out." Her father's voice was steely.

Astoria didn't open her eyes. In a small voice, she asked politely: "May I please be alone now?"

And without opening her eyes, she turned on her side, pulled the covers over her, and waited until she heard the footfalls of three people leaving her room.

Astoria was sent home the next day. The week that followed her return to Greengrass Manor was endless. Her parents said nothing to her beyond the reassurances that everything was going to be all right. But honestly, she couldn't see how that was true. She knew it was serious, because her parents never seemed to look right at her. And they had no answers for any of the questions she had asked.

Moreover, they had absolutely refused to talk about Tullia and the Burkes. Astoria knew, deep down, that that at least was indeed her own fault. She should have never tried to steal that potion. Now she doubted she'd ever see Tullia again.

Months passed, and Astoria started to forget the incident had ever even happened. There were subtle differences, though, like the way her sister began treating her like she was breakable. She suspected that her mother had demanded it from her, but it was still so odd for Daphne to be so careful or considerate with her. And then there was her father, who spent a considerable amount of his time locked in his study, sending endless owls to who knows where. Of course, he never shared any of the responses with her. She wasn't even sure he'd shared them with her mother, who was trying her best to distract Astoria with Daphne's preparations for Hogwarts. Astoria was definitely not in the mood for such things. She went with her parents and Daphne to King's Cross, but only because her parents insisted. They seemed determined to underplay the whole ordeal, particularly in front of the other Wizarding families. On Platform 9 and ¾, she overheard her mother tell Millicent Bulstrode's mother that "Astoria had obviously had too much sun and sweets that day!"

So it came as a mild shock to Astoria when on September 22nd, standing up from the table after tea, she found herself once again crumpling to the ground and losing consciousness.

This time when she woke up in St. Mungo's, she was not as disoriented as the first time. The looks on her parent's faces were not as panicked. A small wizened healer came into the room where the three had been sitting silently.

"Astoria, I'm pleased to meet you." The healer was a tiny woman with wrinkled green eyes that matched her robes, and a cap of what must have once been strawberry blonde hair now gone buttery white. She was freckled all over and looked ancient. "I'm Lyra Hiddlestick. You should call me Lyra. I work here at St. Mungo's in the Spell Damage department."

"How do you do," Astoria answered politely.

"I'm sorry to hear that you're back. Unfortunately, this looks to be your second time here, yes?" She glanced at the tablet on the end of the bed, then up at Astoria for confirmation.

"Yes."

"Well, we have a better idea of what we're dealing with now, thanks to your father's owls. And partly due to this second occurrence."

Astoria glanced over at her father who showed no trace of wrongdoing or guilt on his face. She felt a surge of anger at him keeping things from her.

"I thought it was a blood curse."

Lyra nodded, still reading her notes. "It is dear, it certainly is. But we're starting to understand how it works. Can you remember what the date was of the first occurrence?" She held Astoria's gaze and seemed to expect an answer. Astoria's mind fumbled.

"Um, it was in June? It was at the annual Greengrass Midsummer party."

"That's right. And do you know what the date was of the latest occurrence?" Astoria was about to shake her head no, but then everything made sense.

"The autumn equinox?"

Healer Hiddlestick nodded again, this time in a manner that seemed to indicate pride in Astoria's deductions. "You are most astute, Astoria. Indeed, it was the autumn equinox. Unfortunately, what it looks like we are dealing with is a curse that is, at least at this stage, linked with the change of seasons."

Her father and mother continued to watch their interaction as if none of this was news to them. Astoria was suddenly sure that her parents had already been told this information.

"You mean I can expect this to happen to me four times a year?" Astoria directed her questions at Lyra, who had told her more about her condition in the last few minutes than her parents had attempted to do in the last three months.

"Yes, precisely. However, you must realize something Astoria." She paused, and made a face that was the cross between a smile and a grimace. "This is just the first stage. This will not go away. It will get worse. There is currently no counter-curse for what you have. We can treat it, yes, but it will affect you for all the days of your life."

Lyra's words hung in the air. Astoria stared at her, and then looked to her parents. Of course they already knew. Their faces were resigned, watching hers for a reaction.

"Mum, Dad… you knew this?" Her voice was as small as she felt.

"Yes." Her father answered stiffly. He was obviously uncomfortable with the level of tension in the room. He had never been one for strong emotion or confrontation. "For some time. It is consistent with what has happened to your mother's other afflicted family members. Though there haven't been any occurrences recorded for some time."

Fiery anger spread through Astoria. Her parents had known, for who knows how long, and said nothing to her. "Why didn't you tell me?" she accused sharply, not caring how disrespectful or petulant her tone was.

Her mother's brow furrowed with hurt. "We couldn't be sure until now. And we didn't want this to ruin Daphne's last summer before Hogwarts."

I can't believe she's bringing Daphne into this, was Astoria's first thought. I bet she doesn't even know. Classic Greengrass secret-keeping. She pressed her lips together, which were dry as dust, and turned her focus back to the healer. She couldn't stand to keep looking at her parents. "What did you mean when you said it will get worse?"

Lyra Hiddlestick met Astoria's demanding gaze. "You are young, Miss Greengrass, but you deserve to know what's coming." She turned to Astoria's father who gave her an authoritative nod. "You will get weaker with each one of these spells. There will come a point where you may get them more frequently as well, but there are some things we can do here to manage that for as long as possible - spells, potions. But you will need to adjust to certain realities about your future." She paused. "Others suffering from this curse have not lived beyond 40."

The room was silent, silent as a tomb.

40, Astoria thought. I won't live past 40.