Hullo all! Yes, I'm aware it's been a while. Writing two stories simultaneously means that I get the freedom of picking up one while the other is resting... but it draws it all out for you faithful readers. Thank you sooo much for your patience - I'm sure I would not have it if I were in your shoes.

I have been receiving some absolutely life-giving questions and comments in the reviews of Part II, and want to remind all that questions, comments, reviews are life. They encourage me to sit back down at a computer after a full day's work (of sitting in front of a computer) and plunk out some of what's up in my head. So thank you! I love hearing feedback!

Chapter 10

"Absolutely out of the question." Leon Greengrass said shortly.

"But Father," Astoria began.

"This is not up for negotiation, Astoria. You of all people should understand why attending a large, public event is too risky. What if something were to happen? It's out of the question," he repeated.

Astoria's eyes welled with tears of frustration. For the millionth time in her life, she thought It's not fair.

"There's no need to get upset dear," her mother chided. "Proper young witches don't cry over such trivial things. It's just a game." Knowing she would just get worse if tears spilled over, Astoria blinked away the wetness and nodded obediently. "Yes, Mother. May I leave now?"

"You may." Astoria quickly abandoned her parents to their lunch, but paused just outside the dining room. She only meant to pause to gain her composure, still at risk of slipping, when she heard her father speak.

"I don't like how close she's become with that Burke girl."

"They're young girls in the same house together. It's hardly avoidable," she heard her mother reply.

"Even so, I've heard some less than impressive things about the family. Something to do with the Burkes of London, and not recognizing them as related." Astoria frowned, wondering what that meant.

"Perhaps it has to do with Nabila. She is rather… different."

"Perhaps."

Nabila was Tullia's mother, Astoria recalled. But what about her was so different? The fact that she was Egyptian? That hardly seemed offensive.

Fearing that she'd be caught eavesdropping - a cardinal offense in her mother's eyes - Astoria snuck off quietly to her room to think things over and brood.

At breakfast a week or so later, her mother let out an audible gasp as she opened the Daily Prophet.

"Heavenly Circe!" she let out, and passed the paper over to her husband.

"What is it?" Astoria asked. Daphne had barely looked up at the outburst; she seemed more interested in her new bracelet and how it danced around her wrist.

"Scenes of Terror at the Quidditch World Cup," her father read.

"What?!" Astoria gasped.

"Apparently someone conjured a Dark Mark after the game finished yesterday."

"What a dreadful prank!" Her mother was shaking her head in disbelief. But instead of responding right away, her father shook his head and followed a line of text with his finger. "It wasn't a prank. There was also some kind of demonstration, and they think Death Eaters were involved."

"Death eaters?" Daphne was listening now.

Leon Greengrass shook his head in disapproval. "What a public mess for the ministry. I should be in touch with Lauren and see what he knows." Astoria noted the differences between the serious but curious reaction of her father and the pained concern etched on her mother's face. Of course her mother was aiming that look in her direction.

"Astoria, it's a very lucky thing you didn't go. Only think if you'd been caught up in that."

Astoria wanted to roll her eyes very badly. "Mother, I wouldn't have been there. Tullia's family were planning to come home right after the game and not camp overnight."

"Even still." She clucked her tongue. "I know you wanted to go, but it really is for the best that we limit your public interactions for these very reasons. You never know what might happen."

"Yes Mother" was all she could say politely.

Later that same day, Astoria was in the library leafing through a book. A picture of a hooded figure with a metal mask glared out menacingly.

Death Eaters, as they were generally known, referred to the most extreme and ardent followers of the Dark Lord. The group members were guilty of many malevolent and lawless acts, all in the name of restoring rights and due privilege to pure-blood wizards.

"What are you reading?" her father asked. She looked up from her window seat to see him standing nearby, respectfully not trying to read over her shoulder.

"I wanted to look up Death Eaters after you mentioned them this morning."

"Ah," her father nodded, understanding. "Is that Bancroft Belvedere's Modern Wizarding History?" She passed the book to him in response and he checked the cover with a nod. "He was a friend of your Great Uncle Griffith's." He pulled up one of the wingback chairs to sit beside her near the window. "A bit batty, as I recall. So many historians are, though."

"Uncle Griffith used to talk about Death Eaters."

The older man with the salt and pepper beard quirked an eyebrow at his daughter. "You remember that, do you? I suppose I'm not surprised. Uncle Griffith had strong opinions, many of them expressed to anyone who'd listen, which often meant me and your mother. Christmases and Easters with him were always... interesting." He flipped a page, and a picture of the Wizengamot in full trial spanned half the page. "He blamed the Ministry for what happened to your grandparents. He believed that they should have done more for the long-standing pureblood families who had faith the system would protect them."

Astoria watched the photograph as a chained prisoner was interrogated. "He used to say that the Death Eaters were misunderstood."

Her father sighed. "Astoria, it was a very different time. Your grandparents and your great uncle grew up in a world that had been terrorized by Grindelwald. Everyone was terrified that wizards would be fully exposed to muggles at any moment, so the Ministry took steps to prevent that. It meant a great deal of sacrificed freedoms by wizarding families - ours included. Uncle Griffith always resented those changes, like many others of his generation."

"And like the demonstrators at the World Cup?" Astoria guessed.

"Exactly." Her father smiled, a rare sight. "You're a bright child, Astoria." He paused a moment, and she could tell he was about to say something important.

"I suppose you yourself feel similar resentment, what with all the sacrifices of freedom you've made this past year. Your mother and I know it can't have been easy. But I hope you understand that, like the laws after Grindelwald, limitations are put in place for a reason. They are there to protect you."

She thought about this. True, she hadn't been allowed to learn how to fly - but look what had happened to Harry Potter. He'd almost fallen to his death! And Lyra believed that Madam Pomfrey was teaching her valuable information about healing and her curse. She was sorry she'd missed seeing the Quidditch match with Tullia and her parents, but she wasn't sorry she'd missed whatever madness had followed it. And the secrets and the lying… well, it hadn't been too bad so far. To be honest, the untruths so far had been so small, she'd be surprised if anyone suspected anything at all.

Perhaps her father was right - her fighting against the limitations on her freedom would only make her feel less safe.

"I understand, Father," she told him and smiled so he'd know she meant it.

Before Astoria could even fathom it, she was packing for her return to Hogwarts. The summer had flown by, and Astoria had torn into her new textbooks with fervour. She'd also exchanged letter after letter with Tullia, to the point that her parents saw her in the owlcote as often as in the library. Tullia's family had indeed missed the chaos after the game, but it didn't stop her friend from speculating heavily on how things had unfolded in her usual overdramatic style. Astoria actually wanted to hear more about the game, so Tullia filled her in on the Irish Chaser strategies and the Wronski Feint move of Viktor Krum, and the fight between mascots. Astoria was sure her friend would want to go over everything again when they were on the train together, but she didn't mind. She'd missed her friend's energy and histrionics.

So when she found Tullia sitting in a Hogwarts Express compartment giving the play-by-play to Iain Bradley, she couldn't help feel a little hurt. She didn't even say hello, not wanting to interrupt Tullia's intense retelling of an Irish penalty.

"And then Zograf swung in beside Mullet and… Astoria!" Tullia, finally noticing her as the chest floated up to the rack above them, jumped to her feet and pulled her friend in for a tight hug. Astoria returned the enthusiastic hug and felt a little guilty for her earlier thoughts.

"Summer looks good on you," she told her friend. It was true - Tullia had been kissed even darker by the season, whereas Astoria still looked like milk barely warmed.

"Heya Astoria," Iain smiled tentatively. Astoria got the sense that Iain himself thought he was intruding, which only made her feel guiltier. To put him at ease, she smiled broadly. "Were you not at the Quidditch World Cup either?"

"Nope. Granddad wanted to go on a trip to Lisbon, so we all went with him. But Tullia's doing a great job of filling me in on what I missed." Tullia was rummaging around in her haversack. "Just the highlights," her voice muffled by the fact that her head was practically in the bag. "Astoria got reams of letters on the game - she's probably dead sick of my messy handwriting now."

"That's absolutely untrue!" Astoria protested. "Each letter is practically a cryptogram, and you know how much I like puzzles."

"Har har," Tullia feigned insult, but her cheeks were glowing with amusement. "I got you this." She held out a green (slightly) luminous rosette. "It used to shout the names of the players, and it glowed far more brightly… but I figured you'd like a little piece of the action to call yours." Astoria took it and grinned.

"It's marvelous - thank you!" She hugged her friend again and all seemed right with the world.

The rest of the journey was mostly talk of Quidditch. Iain stayed with them for the first third of the trip, comparing his own vast knowledge of the sport with Tullia's. The moment he'd left the compartment, Tullia grabbed Astoria's hand.

"I think he likes you," she squealed.

"What?!" Astoria's jaw dropped. "Tullia, stop speaking nonsense. He was talking to you most of the time." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Only because you're the strong, silent type. But," she eyed her friend closely, "I can see that talking about this is weirding you out, so, as a true friend," she put her hand stoically over her heart, "I will drop it. For now. But you should know, I am the type to say 'I told you so'."

Astoria made sure Tullia saw her roll her eyes overdramatically, and they both giggled.

"Now, knowing you, you read all the textbooks weeks ago. Fill me in on what I don't know."

They spent the rest of the trip speculating on their second year lessons. Astoria was happy for the subject change, but Tullia's comment rolled around in her head like a loose Gobstone.

What if Iain does like me? What the blazes am I supposed to do about it? Do I like him? How do I know? And here I thought second year would be easier and less complicated! Then Tullia distracted her with a question about Mandrakes, and Astoria pushed it all to the back of her mind. She'd deal with it as it came.