Slytherin, or

Of All the Trees That Are In The Wood

Chapter 13

After the rather excessively long meeting (Professor McGonagall was prone to long meetings so she could explain in detail her many guidelines, policies, and rules), Astoria and Graham returned sleepily to their grand dungeon common room.

"Do you suppose they're right, about that girl not being like Draco?" Graham asked.

"I expect so," Astoria replied absently. "After all, I'm not much like my sister, now, am I?"

"Not much," he said admiringly. "I was always impressed by the way you stood up to Draco. Wish I could have done that."

"Oh, dry up. You're a Slytherin!" she said sharply. "Start acting like it! Draco's gone, and you're Prefect now."

"You know they only reason they made me Prefect is because I'm the only male Sixth Year Slytherin left. What does acting like a Slytherin mean anymore, anyway?"

"That's for us to decide, isn't it? There's no more Draco and Blaise to push you around, no more Daphne and Pansy to push me around. We're it."

In truth, if it hadn't been for Daphne, she would have had Pansy and Draco on her case far more than she did. Daphne used to say things like, "Leave the kid alone, will you? She's not worth it," and Astoria would know that her sister was trying to protect her, in her own strange way. Though sometimes she'd despised her sister for being a hanger-on to Pansy, herself a hanger-on to Draco (Are we Slytherins or not, able to stand on our own two feet? she wanted to rage at her), she was also…grateful. Her weak, proud older sister was her buffer. And now her weak, proud older sister was a nobody. She hadn't had the courage to stand up to the Death Eaters when Professor Slughorn sent the summons to the Battle at Hogwarts, but she hadn't had the depth of evil to join the Death Eaters like Pansy and Blaise, either. She'd stayed home, and she'd stayed home ever since. No one could get her out of the house.

Some days Astoria almost wished she'd taken the Sorting Hat up on its offer to put her in Gryffindor, but if she had, she would never have heard the last of it from her family, who expected Slytherin or Ravenclaw out of their children. Well, she couldn't be Ravenclaw. No passion, that lot of knowledge-obsessed bookworms. And anyway, she knew she was Slytherin. Maybe a better Slytherin than Draco Malfoy himself. She had ambitions that went beyond petty quarrels over blood and talent, over short-sighted House rivalries. A good Slytherin ought to take the long view. If you wanted to make something of yourself, you ignored all that extraneous nonsense and pushed ahead to the goal.

The only extraneous nonsense she hadn't been able to cure herself of was fancying Draco Malfoy. She despised herself for that. Fancying that arrogant, posturing, bullying git? How could you know someone for five years, know his every fault and failure to be an ordinary, decent human being, catalogue every cruelty and bullying action, and still have fancied him from the first moment you laid eyes on him as a silly little First Year? How could you know in your heart that he deserved everything that happened to him and still feel like you were bleeding inside to see it?

Thankfully, she'd been able to hide her stupidity from everyone. Everyone except Draco's startling sister, startlingly like him, startlingly unlike him. She'd liked Lucia from the start, wanted her in Slytherin, was afraid she would be. When you recognized a kindred spirit in someone, you laid yourself open, became vulnerable, and who knew what would happen? Astoria had made it her business to keep from being vulnerable, and all it had taken was a glance from vivid blue eyes to lay bare her most secret secret. Draco's sister, of all the unfair things!

At the moment, the unfair thing was sitting on the couch in the Slytherin common room where Draco had often sat, her hair an odd shade of pale green, talking animatedly to what looked like most of Slytherin, half of whom also seemed to have green hair. The littlest ones no longer seemed afraid of her; instead they were laughing madly at something she was telling them. She was different than she'd been on the train, less calm uncertainty, more freedom of expression.

"I see you've already established yourself," Astoria said slightly sourly.

Lucia grinned at her. "Slytherin after all, you see? I figured I had better tell everyone the truth about me so they won't be wondering."

And starting rumours. Astoria had to admire the way she'd faced the issue head-on. She could tell some of the older Slytherins didn't quite believe her account of herself. That's my job, I suppose. "What do you think of our common room? Bit dramatic and gloomy, don't you think?"

"A bit," Lucia admitted.

"Just wait till you see the Potions classroom," one of the Second Years said. "When Professor Snape was here…" His voice trailed off.

"Alright, you lot. Bedtime. Off you go."

There was some complaining, but they were already yawning.

"I wonder if there's time left for me to call my Mum," Lucia mused.

"Call her?" a Third Year asked. "Like stick your head out of a window and yodel?"

"No," she laughed. "Call her on this." She pulled a small black thing out of her pocket and unfolded it.

"What is that? Looks like something the Weasleys would invent."

"Coo, you have a mobile phone?" one of the Muggle-born First Years gasped.

"My Mum got it for me so we could stay in contact while she's in Europe."

"Is that a Muggle device?" one of the Fourth Years asked, a trace of disdain in his voice.

"It is, and so much more convenient than an owl. Instant communication that won't raise eyebrows on the train. Now if only I can get a signal in a dungeon, that'll be the miracle."

"Come up to my room," Astoria offered. "It's the only one with a window."

"Thanks."

Most of the Slytherin dormitories were spread out through the dungeon, but the Prefects' rooms were prime real estate, up a level, with ground-level windows. Astoria flopped on her bed while Lucia hung out the window with her odd little device held to her ear.

"Hey, Mum! I did it! I got in Slytherin!" Lucia laughed at her mother's response. "Well, yes, I must confess I am slightly regretting the loss of Ravenclaw's beautiful book-lined common room. The Slytherin common room is really gloomy. It's a dungeon! But that doesn't matter. I am where I'm supposed to be. I think Hogwarts is going to be wonderful. Anyway, no one's been mean to me yet. All the Slytherins are kind of scared of me, I think, but it's early days still. How's Venice? Do you have any leads?" She was silent a few moments. "Yes, I am worried about him. I mean, what if he's in danger right now? I know it can take a while to find people, especially when you're not used to their world, but what if it takes so long that it's…too late? And then if you do find him, how are you going to help him? He wouldn't want to have anything to do with you…" She sighed. "Yes, I know we went over all this and it's pointless to worry about what hasn't happened yet. I can't help it. Well, alright. Thanks, Mum. I love you too. Bye."

"Everything alright?" Astoria asked.

"Don't know, really. My mum is searching for a sort of long-lost relative who might be in trouble. That's what she does, looks for people. She's absolutely brilliant."

Astoria offered her a smile. "Well, I hope she finds him."

She received a smile in return. "Thanks. Well, I'm for bed now. Thanks for everything, Astoria."

Author's note: I may have tweaked the timeline a little as regards Graham Pritchard, because at this point in the canon he might be a 5th year instead of a 6th year, but it suited me to make him a 6th year, and he's not important enough in the canon for it to be important.

Also, I'd like to note that Astoria's reflections on Ravenclaw don't parallel mine at all. I would be in Ravenclaw if I were anywhere, and I'm proud to call myself a knowledge-obsessed bookworm.