Chapter 2: Mental Witness
"Daphne, don't wear those! You'll offend Mr. Rowle!" said Laudine Greengrass, Astoria and Daphne's mother, who was doing her best to make her girls presentable to the honored peer coming to dine with them.
"That's the idea." Daphne, ever the rebellious child, had worn some combat boots that she had bought on her many trips to the nearby town of Bangor. With her beautiful, pale yellow dress robes, the black leather boots stood out like funeral-goers at a wedding. The golden shoes intended for the dress were lying disused in the corner of Daphne's spacious, amber-colored bedroom.
"Oh, stop it, Daph! You're so stupid! You just think you're better than us," said Astoria angrily. She had been sitting in her sister's room for a while now, already wearing her rose-colored gown and silver shoes. She was waiting for the moment of Mr. Rowle's arrival by staying where all the action was at the moment.
"Honestly, Daphne, I thought I got rid of all of that Muggle trash you brought home. Now we're just going to sit here until you take them off and put on the shoes I bought for you." At this, their mother took a seat on the bed in front of Daphne and crossed her legs, staring at her trouble child with a stony expression on her naturally gentle face. Daphne sighed deeply after a few frigid seconds and slipped out of the boots, stalking past Astoria's place at the large window overlooking the forest surrounding their mansion to get to her intended dinner shoes. It was nearing the gloaming of twilight now, and the soft orange light was slanting through the tall window weakly and giving everything in the room an old, nostalgic look. Now that Daphne's little rebellion had been quelled, the two sisters followed their mother, who had adorned herself in a peach-colored dress as beautiful and dainty as theirs, out of the bedroom into the upstairs hallway. Everything in the mansion was lush and warm. The wallpaper, a pale gold and cream, depicted a stylized forest much like the one outside. Here and there a white bird peeped through the paper foliage. Hunting trophies, both recent and ancient, adorned the walls and some corners of the house. Much of the wall space and all of the stairs and floor was polished oak, carved into intricate floral patterns. Suits of armor and medieval weapons, tokens from the time when the old Greengrasses often employed their use, seemed to sit in vigil in the halls. The house elves had set out multicolored bouquets to welcome the family's peer, a pureblood businessman and politician. Eventually the trio encountered Owain, Astoria and Daphne's father, at the bottom of the stairs. He looked positively medieval in his dark red, fur-trimmed robes.
"Daphne, I'm going to have a talk with you tonight. Go to the entrance hall to greet our guest," said her father in an icy voice. The grin Daphne was wearing slid from her face quickly as a similar grin spread across Astoria's face. She had gone a bit too far, it seemed. After Daphne and Mrs. Greengrass left, Owain turned to Astoria, smiling warmly.
"Now, I know you don't like being around new people, Astoria. If he makes you uncomfortable, just try to focus on your mother's thoughts or mine. Alright?" He affectionately patted her on the head with his large, beefy hand, and Astoria nodded shyly.
"Alright, Daddy." Astoria had gotten used to the thoughts of her parents, which were almost always loving and affectionate when it came to her and even her sister. It was easy to get caught up in their feelings and opinions, though there were some things in their heads Astoria couldn't understand. Daphne, on the other hand, constantly annoyed her with her disdainful thoughts of her, her family, and her family's philosophy and way of life. Everything about their family was embarrassing to Daphne now, including Astoria herself. The older sister couldn't wait until she was old enough to go to Hogwarts in two years, and Astoria shared her sentiment for once.
When Astoria and her father got to the entrance hall, Mr. Rowle - a smart-looking man - was already there, chatting with Daphne and Mrs. Greengrass about some nicety or another. Astoria soon got an impression of what the guest was like, and what she saw confused her. Rowle's thoughts were barely focused on the family, the house, or even what they were going to eat for dinner. He kept jumping back to a series of related images that she couldn't understand. They were in a dark room with only a small beam of light falling on…what? There seemed to be dirty pile of sheets crumpled into one corner of the dark room. Before she could get a better look, the image was gone, replaced by quickly thrown-together courses of action designed to charm his hosts.
"And what's your name, pretty young lady? Rowle asked with a saccharine voice that made Astoria uncomfortable.
"My name is Astoria. I am very pleased to meet you," she said quietly as she curtseyed. Mr. Greengrass led his guest through the highly decorated entrance hall to the dining room, which earlier had had many elves scurrying around, trying to make the food and the dinner table pristine and beautiful. Soon, they were sitting down to the supper that the house elves had set on the table - red meat. Because she was beginning to be disturbed by their guest's erratic thoughts, she began to try to focus on the conversation Rowle and her father were having.
"I don't know if you know this, Mr. Rowle, but our family has kept our traditional fief since we won it from a dark warlock in the tenth century. Of course, nowadays people don't need protection from bands of robbers or Muggle mobs. So, what we do now is – how do you say – ensure harmony and peace in our fiefdom. If there's a dangerous politician gaining power, we put an end to it. If crime is on the rise, we put some of our own people on the streets. The one thing I've learned from Muggles and their history is that you can't trust them not to make the world worse for everyone. So, we don't let them. I suspect they have a lower propensity for intelligence and empathy than our kind, you see," said Mr. Greengrass, putting as much emotion and energy into his words as possible, as if he were performing to an audience. "We like to think of ourselves as Muggle shepherds." Mr. Rowle smiled, chuckling. Astoria and her mother joined in. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daphne making a face.
"We really protect the greater good don't we?" Rowle replied, raising his glass of red wine. "So, remind me of that new investment you're undertaking, Owain. I'm a bit forgetful lately." Astoria caught a strong thought from him after he said this, taking a bite of his meat.
For the love of God, please let me out…wait! Wait! I…I still hurt from the last time! No! Astoria dropped the fork that she had in her hand, her eyes wide. Whatever this was, she didn't want to hear or see any more of it.
"May I please be excused?" she asked as smoothly as she could manage, her voice breaking a little on the word "please."
"Darling! Don't be rude!" her mother quickly snapped, turning quickly to smile apologetically at Rowle. Mr. Greengrass glanced at his daughter and his wife, conflicted.
"Are you feeling ill, Astoria?" he asked, sensing his daughter's growing panic. "If so, I'm sure Mr. Rowle won't mind if you step out for a while."
"Oh, no, not at all, young lady," he said jovially. Astoria looked at her mother for approval, and she grudgingly nodded. She hastily started to reset her place at the table to indicate that she was finished, and as she was doing this she could feel Rowle's feverish thoughts struggle in vain to focus on the situation he was in at the moment. Suddenly the image of the thin, bruised face of a woman bubbled up into her mind like gore from a wound. The woman's good eye moved and opened wide with terror, and a hoarse, desperate scream was let out. She could see hands moving to untie something below her – or Rowle's – line of sight, and in a few moment the woman's face (now closer to her view) twisted into a rictus of pain. Astoria found herself transfixed in shivering fascination, and she couldn't tear herself away from the unity between herself and Rowle. In the next flash of image and sound, intense and painful, she saw hands covered in blood in the dark, and she heard the sound of labored breathing and soft moaning. Was it the woman or Rowle? She didn't know. Soon, all she could hear was piercing screaming going on and on. Her vision was blurred with tears.
The next thing she knew, her father was picking her up from the floor where she had apparently fallen, trying to calm her. It appeared the crazed shrieking was hers. The red from the visions turned to the red from the food and drink she had spilled, and soon she could make out the faces of her family, Rowle, and a few house elves who had come to help with the disturbance.
"Get him out of here!" she yelled at the top of her voice, lifting a shaking finger at Rowle. "He's hurting someone! Make him go away! He's evil!" An angry house elf quickly tried to drag the guest out into the entrance hall in the absence of an order from either Mr. or Mrs. Greengrass, who stared from the guest to Astoria, bewildered. Astoria quickly got up, swatting away her father's hand and sprinting for the stairs as fast as she could, not stopping until she reached her room, where she closed and locked the door behind her. Outside her window, the moon was rising and the sky was dark, so she closed the curtains. Astoria left her room dark and tried to remember what she had thought about the world before.
"Miss Greengrass, are you alright?" Again, Astoria found herself on the floor, this time on all fours with her hand in front of her mouth, feeling nauseated. Professor Snape helped her up and sat her in a large armchair facing the fireplace in his office. She sighed deeply and didn't answer. She seemed to be absorbed in the hissing wood being consumed with flames in the hearth.
"What do you think broke your concentration?" Snape asked after a few minutes of tense silence. He was now standing stiffly to the side of her chair, his hands raised, then lowered, then ultimately clasped behind his back.
"Probably you breaking in like a psychopath!" she shouted tearfully, her voice breaking down at the last word.
"Ms. Greengrass, you will not be able to prevent unconscious mental intrusion if you cannot prevent intentional intrusion. Those are the simple facts. Now, why do you think your concentration broke?"
"I don't know! I don't want to examine myself under a microscope all the time, it's depressing!"
"You must. Someone of your unusual talents has more responsibility than an ordinary child – even a magical child. Listen!" Snape snapped, as Astoria turned away from him. "When other people use Legilimency, like me, they sift through the victim's mind at will. The victim relives all thoughts, emotions, and memories to an extent that a Legilimens with good control decides. With you, it's the opposite. You are a magnet for mental intrusions, and you have no control over what you see or feel! You even told me you are forced into others' dreams sometimes! Do you want to stay that way? I will ask you again: what broke your concentration?"
"I told you, I don't know!" wailed Astoria. "And anyway, if a good Legilimens can control how much the victim relives the memories and stuff, then why did you make me relive that memory? You're a…a… horrible tutor!" A bitter grin spread across the professor's mouth.
"That was not I. I tried to stop it when it came up, but you forced that memory to replay," Snape tried to explain in a calm voice, though that was hard to do through gritted teeth.
"And you watched?" she asked with tears in her eyes, contorting her face in rage.
"Of course I did. I am trying to understand you and what makes your power work the way it does. Please calm down, Miss Greengrass."
"No!" she shouted, her high-pitched voice hurting his ears. "How would you feel if I did that to you? Legilimens!" At this, she leaped up from the chair, thrusting her silver lime wood wand in Snape's direction and concentrating all of her will on penetrating the professor's mental defense. All she accomplished after a minute of growling in fury was a flash of Snape's point of view at the moment (probably conceded to her willingly): a short little girl with an astonishingly ugly look on her face, shaking in rage. Astoria dropped her wand in hot shame and turned towards the door, her hair shielding her red face.
"Very well," Snape said darkly, dropping off into silence.
The walk back to the Common Room was as silent as a frozen wasteland. Finally, they reached the stone entrance. Snape stated the password – chiropteran – in his usual monotone drawl, and the black rock silently slid to reveal the Common Room, now lit only by the lamps and a dying fireplace.
"As usual, Miss Greengrass, do your exercises. Try to focus on an object or a phrase when you start trying to empty your mind," dictated Snape, as if nothing had happened. "And don't forget to keep your daily diary."
"Yes, Professor," Astoria replied as the Common Room entrance closed in behind her.
