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Chapter Text

Astoria was five when her parents sat her down and explained that she was dying.

It’s her first memory, and in sharp clarity in her mind. Her mother was crying, her father looking hard at a point about a metre above her head, and refusing to meet her eyes. Daphne wasn’t there, although in every memory Astoria has from after that day, Daphne has always been by her side.

She didn’t understand, at five, of course. She can dimly recall that her parents had been worried, can remember flashes of many separate visits to St Mungo’s, but the first clear memory she has is her mother haltingly explaining that she won’t have as full a life as her sister, and that she needs to limit her magic.

Coming from a pureblood family, she had obviously been doing accidental magic left right and centre, which had been the reason for the long spells of illness as a child. Astoria doesn’t know the specific details of her curse - that it’s hereditary, that it worsens with magic usage and exposure, that it’ll eventually kill her, yes, but none of the magical equations the healers at St Mungo’s have written out.

As a child, Astoria remembers being given more liberties than her sister - remembers eavesdropping on an argument between her parents where her father raised the point that she would die anyway, so there was no point in policing her the same way as they did Daphne, and her mother’s horrified tears.

Whatever way it came about, Astoria loves the freedom her parents grant her. Since age seven, she’s been allowed to drag her mother into the small muggle village at the bottom of the hill and borrow as many books from the library as she wants. When she threw a tantrum at age eight over not being allowed a magical tutor in the same way as Daphne, her father hired a muggle tutor for her to learn non-magical academics. When Daphne left for Hogwarts and nine-year old Astoria fell into a deep loneliness, her parents permitted her to join the local junior football team.

Now she’s eleven, and the whole family has been on tenterhooks all summer. They’ve reached the point of no return with regards to Astoria. If her Hogwarts letter arrives, she’ll be able to join her sister’s world, but she’ll have to limit her magic, and she’ll die even faster. If no letter comes for her, her parents have agreed to let her go to muggle senior school, and she’ll lose out on all connections to the wizarding world.

She’s screwed either way. “Screwed” is a fun word she’s learnt from some of the older kids at football, and one she’s learnt not to say around her posh, prissy, pureblood parents.

“Alliteration” is a word she’s learnt from Miss Stick, her tutor, who is the only muggle Astoria knows who’s also been filled in on magic. Miss Stick has been tutoring Astoria since she was fifteen and Astoria was eight, as a way to earn money, because her family is not as rich as the Greengrasses. Miss Stick says that even if Astoria goes to Hogwarts in September, she’ll stay on as a tutor in the summer holidays to keep up Astoria's studies, which is very kind of her. Of course, if Astoria goes to muggle school, she’ll be able to have tutor sessions with Miss Stick every week on Saturdays, the same system they have in place now, but Miss Stick says it’ll be less necessary, as Astoria is both “conscientious” and “perceptive” and that means she thinks she’ll do well in muggle school and not need a tutor.

Astoria doesn’t want to have to dispense of Miss Stick’s services, as she’s become a very good family friend, and sometimes stays for family lunch on Saturdays.

The other family friend who’s really only there because of Astoria is Andi, who used to be a Black and as such can be totally, absolutely terrifying. Andi is short for Andromeda, but because she’s a healer, which is a different sort of employed from a tutor, she’s Andi, rather than Mrs Tonks.

Andi and Astoria’s mother were school friends, and because Astoria's father stayed neutral during the war, Andi doesn’t dislike their family in the same way she dislikes some of Astoria's father’s associates. Andi is also the best in the field of hereditary magical curses, partly because of the Black insanity, a problem Astoria knows Andi is still trying to fix for her twin sister.

It’s a story Astoria’s not really supposed to know, but she’s gotten very good at eavesdropping over the years.

Miss Stick has met Andi, and Astoria thinks that Andi is Miss Stick’s idol. the two of them get on really well, and Andi has been cajoling Miss Stick for all the years they’ve known each other to meet her own daughter, who is apparently Miss Stick’s age and “just her kind of person”.

Astoria’s never met Nymphadora, but from what Andi’s said, she thinks her and Miss Stick would get on.

It’s the summer holidays, so Miss Stick hasn’t been teaching Astoria, but she’s been invited to a family breakfast. Normally that means breakfast is fun, but Astoria’s parents have been wound up all day, and Daphne’s been tucked away working on homework all summer.

“Is something wrong, Mr Greengrass?” Miss Stick asks, and Astoria shakes her head. It’s always a bad idea to ask her father if something’s wrong, because inevitably you get buried under a tangent about the latest problems with the world.

“I dare say he’s worried about the post, isn’t that right, Gerry?” Andi teases. She’s still dressed in her scrubs and there’s a tightness around her eyes, because she had a late shift last night/this morning, but she’s still turned up for a family breakfast. It’s an extravagant affair, today, but Astoria’s still not sure why.

Her father doesn’t respond, but from the way Andi yelps and rubs at her hand, Astoria can guess he used his favourite trick - a wandless stinging jinx. He uses it whenever he wants to tease Astoria’s mother or Daphne, but he’s never flicked one at Astoria - he just flicks his forehead with his fingers instead, if he wants to convey the same meaning.

“Jemimah, is the post late?” her father asks, trying to find sympathy with his wife, but Astoria’s mother just shakes her head.

“Why are we worrying about post?” Daphne asks, finally pulling her head out of her book. Astoria bends her head to see the cover, and sighs when she realises that it’s a charms textbook. Charms does not fill Astoria with joy.

“Oh, no reason,” Astoria’s mother says, and pats their father’s hand. “Your father’s just antsy.”

Astoria stares in the same direction as her father is gazing, and when she’s been squinting for a while, a dark shape appears in her vision.

“Wow, the sun’s bright today,” she complains, trying to blink away the spot. “It’s only July! I am not looking forward to the weather if this heatwave continues into August.”

The shape doesn’t disappear from her vision, instead it gets bigger. After much inspection, Astoria recognises it as an owl.

Her father sucks a breath in, and her mother lets out a sharp cry as the owl drops a letter in Astoria's lap. Miss Stick just raises her eyebrows, as she’s out of the loop, which often happens.

Astoria takes the letter carefully. Her address is printed carefully in green ink, and as she flips it over, she notes the crest on the wax seal.

Her eyes get very wide.

She rips the envelope open, depositing the scraps of parchment on Andi’s lap, and stares at the letter.

Dear Ms Greengrass…

We are pleased to inform you…

accepted.

Astoria shrieks, and gets to her feet, waving the letter in the air. “I got in! I got into Hogwarts! Daphne, Daphne I'm going to school with you!”

Andi starts cheering. Her mother, inevitably, starts crying. Her father reaches over to clap her on the shoulder, and tells her how proud he is.

Daphne grins, abandoning her book, and dives over to hug Astoria. Instantly, the scolding over manners and etiquette starts up from their mother, but Astoria just wraps her arms around Daphne tighter, which stops the lecture in its tracks.

Astoria’s going to get to go to Hogwarts! It’s the most excited she’s been since her team won the local tournament. She thinks it even beats the time she got to ride in a car with Miss Stick (who is now twenty and has a driver’s license).

“Darling, we’re going to need to discuss it,” her father says, and Astoria releases Daphne, nodding.

“I understand. Because I can’t do too much magic, but I also can’t just fail the practical portion of the exams,” she says. “But I can go, right?”

Her father smiles. “Yes, you can go. There aren’t too many classes that have a magic-intensive practical course anyway, just defence, charms and transfiguration. It’s possible you could get a medical exemption for the exams, anyway, or we wouldn’t make you sit them in the first place. Three fewer owls is not going to adversely affect your future too much, flower.”

“If I may?” Andi cuts in. “Astoria, your health is going to be very negatively affected by attending Hogwarts. Even with as limited magical usage as possible, the presence of such strong magic will cut years off your life. Are you sure you still want to go?”

Astoria takes a moment. Does she want to sacrifice her future for the chance to go to Hogwarts? To make friends and learn magic? Does she want to leave her football team and her non-magical education to spend seven years in a school she can’t fully participate in?

“Yes,” she says firmly. “I want to go.”

Andi nods, unsurprised. “In which case, Gerry, I’m going to discuss a controlled treatment plan with you and Jemimah.”

Astoria sits there while Andi and her parents start debating classes, exams, mandatory stays in the hospital wing, even Astoria’s prescription. It’s frustrating, that an event that was celebrated with so much joy when it happened to Daphne, has to be tempered with care plans and letters to inform teachers when it happens to her.

The adults are caught up in their discussion and Daphne’s already returned to her book, so Astoria slips away from the table, and makes her way off the estate.

Football practice is on Saturday afternoons - useful, as of late, as it means Miss Stick can stay for lunch and drop Astoria off at practice in her car on her way home - which means that Astoria is already dressed appropriately for going into the village. She’s not technically supposed to go alone, despite having turned eleven in May, but she knows the way by heart, and the adults are probably too busy discussing how to keep her healthy to worry about keeping her safe.

Astoria’s barely made it past the gate, when Miss Stick catches up to her, breathing heavily and glasses askew. “You… are faster than you look.”

Astoria gives her a sideways glance. “I’m eleven and have a medical condition. You’re slower than you look.”

Miss Stick has asthma, so it’s not really her fault. She lets out a wheezy laugh and takes a puff on her inhaler, and straightens, wrapping an arm around Astoria’s shoulders as they walk down the hill. They don’t say much for a while, until the familiar tops of the buildings come into sight and the path widens out.

“You get to go to Hogwarts, then,” Miss Stick says tentatively. Astoria kicks at the grass, chewing on her lip.

For years, it’s been all she wanted, but now she’s unsure. It’ll mean being sick more, like she used to be. It’ll mean leaving her friends here, and not fitting in, and giving up football and maths.

“I’m going off to a new school too,” Miss Stick shares. “I wasn’t going to tell you, but I’m starting university at the same time as you’re starting Hogwarts. It's two years late, really, but I've saved enough money to keep my parents cared for while I'm not working. I got my offers all around Hanukkah, but I wrote in to ask if I could leave accepting until I heard where you would be going. I didn’t want to leave you, if you didn’t get in to Hogwarts.”

Astoria’s struck by the thoughtfulness. Miss Stick isn’t even family, but she’s put off going on her own adventure to see if Astoria needs her more.

“Will you like it there?” she asks tentatively. Miss Stick laughs a little.

“It’ll mean leaving my friends here, and giving up watching my weekly football match, and I’m worried I won’t fit in there. But I think I'm going to enjoy it, because I get to learn some new things, and I'm going to get some independence, and a new experience.”

Astoria’s heart skips a beat. What Miss Stick is describing sounds almost exactly how Astoria feels about Hogwarts, but Miss Stick is still excited, even though she’s nervous.

Astoria smiles. “What are you going to study?”

Miss Stick perks up too. “Maths with dimensional physics! It’s a really advanced course, and I had to sit a lot of tests, but they gave me a really good offer, and I’m going to really enjoy it. When I get home today, I’m going to send them my acceptance.”

Astoria nods. It sounds like a lot of fun.

“But hey, what are you going to study? We haven’t talked about Hogwarts yet in my magic lessons,” Miss Stick teases. “I want to know how much your studies are going to lapse while you’re away learning how to make the drink me bottles from Alice.”

Astoria giggles at the mention of one of her favourite books, and Miss Stick’s thoughtfulness in mentioning something she’s probably actually going to be able to do. “The classes are astronomy, flying, herbology, history, potions, and charms, defence and transfiguration. I’m probably not going to be able to do the last three, but in third year - that’s like year nine - you get to pick extra options. We still have to sit exams at the same time as GCSEs and A levels, but they’re called OWLs - Ordinary Wizarding Levels - and NEWTs, Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests.”

Miss Stick cackles at the names of the exams, and Astoria grins with pride.

“Well, we can go stargazing one night if you want to get a head start on astronomy, and I can help out with caring for non-magical plants, but other than that you’re on your own.” They’ve reached the village, and Miss Stick takes Astoria’s hand as they reach the danger of the roads. “Are we going to the library to pick up some books?”

“I didn't get my library card,” Astoria admits. “I didn't even tell mum and dad that I was going.”

Miss Stick frowns, but squeezes Astoria's hand. “Maybe I'll treat you then - buy you a copy of whatever books you want to take to Hogwarts with you.”

Astoria gives Miss Stick the best sideways hug she can manage. “You don’t have to!”

“It's nothing, Astoria, really - your father pays me an extravagant salary, and even with supporting my family, I have plenty left over. Now, you’ll want Alice, and your encyclopaedia, and one of the ones where they have the wrong idea about magic but it makes you laugh, and Matilda, but any others?”

They reach the bookshop - classy, stylish, for special occasions - and Astoria bites her lip while she thinks about it.

“One of the ones about maths,” she decides. “Or quantum physics. I like those.”

Miss Stick nods and duly collects the books - Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Britannica's Children’s Encyclopaedia, The Worst Witch, Matilda, and at last, the Big Physics Book. While she pays, Astoria holds onto the pile of books and tries to feel as clever as Matilda, or as brave as Alice, or as magical as Mildred.

It almost works.

Chapter Text

Diagon Alley was a calculated decision on Astoria's mother’s part. The family can go for school supplies, but they will arrive on a Thursday morning, when the alley is quiet and abandoned.

Astoria bounces through the house in excitement for the outing all Wednesday, and barely sleeps the night before they’re set to go. Aside from St Mungo’s, home, and Andi's office, she never gets to go anywhere magical because of the fear of exacerbating her condition.

The journey into muggle London is easy - it’s just the four of them, but they’ve been living halfway between worlds for years now, and a cab is hardly odd to them.

When they reach the leaky cauldron, Astoria's parents stop the cab, tip handsomely, and lead the girls out of the car. Astoria's delighted, and she darts forwards to inspect the facade.

It really just looks like a dingy pub. She has to hide her disappointment.

Her parents know the code for the bricks, so her father brings out his wand and taps a few. Astoria sneezes three times in quick succession, but when she looks up, the dull brick wall has parted.

This is not disappointing. The street is paved with charmingly uneven cobblestones, which glint under the witchlight streetlamps. The storefronts themselves are brightly coloured, and the enticing displays of products beckon from behind glass windows. Astoria dimly registers Daphne's laughter behind her, and she twirls around, giggling.

“Thank you!” she beams, and her mother sniffs. Astoria is not about to watch her mother cry again, so she squeezes her hand and runs up to her father to bat at his arm. “Where are we going first?”

“Madam Malkin’s,” he says, “for your uniform.”

“Uniform,” Astoria sighs dreamily, and Daphne snorts.

“It's not exactly stylish, Stori, there’s nothing to look forward to there.”

Astoria pouts. “I have to say, I'm a little worried the colour will wash me out. I suit warm colours, to bring out my highlights. Green or blue might bring out my eyes, but is it worth it to end up looking ashy and pale? But on the other hand, yellow is no one’s colour. Do I need to end up in Gryffindor to suit my colouring?” she laments.

Daphne stares at her. “It's like having Pansy at home with me,” she says in horror. “No, Stori. You’ll suit whatever house you end up in. The house colours are barely there anyway, the uniform is mostly… grey.”

“Not grey!” Astoria wails. “People are going to see how sick I get if I'm in grey, Daphne, I need to look vital, not deathly.”

Her mother chokes. Astoria feels slightly guilty for bringing her illness up.

“Get into Gryffindor then, and just accessorise as much as possible,” Daphne sighs. “I'll pass you onto Pansy if you want school-approved accessories. She has the biggest side-business I've ever seen in a thirteen year old.”

Astoria sniffs haughtily. “I suppose.”

The uniform fitting goes well, although Astoria nearly bursts into tears when she sees the skirts. Grey, and pleated. It's utterly tragic.

Madam Malkin seems to find her histrionics amusing, though, and she recommends a few scarves just outside the standard range. Astoria buys one in every colour - “in case I need to support someone at matches,” she explains.

Daphne closes her eyes in resignation. Astoria can tell she wishes she’d brought a book.

Their next stop is Flourish and Blotts, unfortunately, and Daphne immediately disappears into the reference section, which contains the thickest books Astoria has ever seen.

“Is she looking for a blunt force weapon?” she whispers loudly, and her father barely suppresses his chuckle.

Her school books are duly picked up, inspected, and found wanting. Daphne manages to drag herself away from her quarry long enough to snort at the quality and haul Astoria off to collect ‘better’ books.

“Daphne, you do recall I have had vanishingly little magical tutoring and am probably going to struggle terribly in school?” Astoria whines, but Daphne has no sympathy.

“Get an upper year to tutor you. Granger if you’re in Gryffindor, Patil or Turpin if you’re in Ravenclaw - not Ant or Anya - Finch-Fletchley or Hannah if you’re in Hufflepuff, or Nott if you’re in Slytherin.”

“Not you?” Astoria asks sweetly, and giggles at Daphne's hard look. “Fair, okay.”

Daphne selects a few more books that Astoria “has to have!” and dumps them on the ever-growing pile on the clerk’s counter.

As the pile rises, so do the clerk’s eyebrows. Daphne picks out a few bricks for herself, and her father reluctantly brings out his coin purse.

“Daphne, dear, do you really need that first edition… Compendium of Cuneiform?” her mother asks tentatively.

“Yes,” Daphne insists. “The Hogwarts curriculum for ancient runes is tragically lacking! How else am I supposed to further my education?”

“Well, you could try the Hogwarts library,” her mother suggests, wilting under Daphne's glare.

“And does the Hogwarts library have first editions?” she asks scathingly. “I don't think so.”

After having spent half the family fortune on Daphne's books, their mother reviews Astoria's supply list.

“Potage’s,” she declares, and they make their way towards the cheery shop. “Oh, hello, Jamie! I didn’t know you were working here!”

Astoria and Daphne roll their eyes simultaneously. Their mother would chat with rocks if they answered back, and even if they didn’t, she would probably talk to them anyway.

“I need a pewter cauldron, phials, and scales,” Astoria tells her father, who nods.

“Wait! Get brass instead,” Daphne cuts in. “Pewter is fine for a beginner but you end up needing brass when you start OWL work, and there’s nothing wrong with using brass instead for your first two years.”

“Do you need brass as well, then?” their father asks in alarm. Daphne shakes her head.

“I got a fresh cauldron from one of the upper years in exchange for telling him if Oliver Wood was single,” she explains. “He's not, he’s dating one of the Weasleys, but don’t mention that.”

Astoria nods gravely.

“Brass cauldron, crystal phials, brass scales,” her father repeats to himself, and sighs, seeing that his wife is still captivating the attention of the shop worker. “Jemimah, I require that young man’s services.”

Astoria's mother nods, and pats the man on the shoulder. “We must catch up properly sometime, dear,” she says warmly. “Now, Gerry, what do we need?”

“Brass cauldron, crystal phials, brass scales,” her father chants. “And a set of standard ingredients, for good measure. Jemimah, you’re the one with the list.”

Her mother flushes, and nervously folds and unfolds the list in her hands. “Right, of course.”

“Would you like me to shrink those for you?” the shop worker asks.

“That would be lovely, Jamie!” her mother declares, and collects the bag of shrunken items. “Oh, Gerry, we need to get Astoria a trunk!”

Her father breathes out heavily through his nose, bouncing his (significantly lighter) coin purse in his hand. “Yes, Jemimah.”

The spread of choice of trunks is almost frightening. Astoria finds herself wishing for a suitcase.

“This one has an undetectable extension charm and four hidden compartments,” one man advertises.

“This trunk - specifically designed for Hogwarts! - a library inside it,” another attempts.

“Three compartments - wardrobe, storage, library - and a built-in featherlight charm,” a sensible looking man sighs. “But no. Buy the flashy trunk with the hidden compartments.”

Astoria's father squints at the sensible looking man. “Henry, is that you?”

The man perks up. “Gerry? Yes, it’s me!”

“Why on earth are you here, selling trunks?” Astoria's father asks, baffled. Astoria squints as well, and the glamour charm shifts away from his face, revealing her Uncle Henry.

“My mate Jonny got called away, and I had the day off from the ministry, so I’m covering,” Uncle Henry says with a sigh. “Retail is worse than the DMLE, I tell you.”

Her father laughs. “Well, in your expert opinion, which is the best trunk for a new Hogwarts student?” he asks, ruffling Astoria's hair. She gasps and does her best to fix it, re-clipping her ex-fringe.

She had a phase last year, and she’s regretting it.

“Astoria! you’re going to Hogwarts?” Uncle Henry asks, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up in a bear hug. “Leo will be so pleased!”

Astoria desperately attempts to fix her hair when Uncle Henry puts her down, and grins up at him. She had forgotten that she would be in the same year as Leo! “I am so pleased,” she says.

Uncle Henry smiles. “I'm sure you are.” He turns back to her father, winking. “This one, definitely. It's only cheaper than the others because there’s nothing flash about it - three practical compartments that actually get the job done. Not extravagant, not plebeian. And Jemimah can load her up with baked goods - there are quite decent preservation charms in there.”

“We'll take it, then,” her mother says. “It's good to see you, Henry! We'll have to have your lot and Isaac's two over at some point before September.”

Uncle Henry hands the trunk over, and her father opens it up, dropping the bag of shopping into the correct compartments. Astoria leans over to watch the bag quiver, before being sucked down.

“Is it magic?” she asks. “How does it know where to go?”

Uncle Henry shrugs. “I don't work here, poppet, but I think it’s a self-settling charm? The bag goes onto a shelf, so you can put things in without having to climb in. It’s intent based, so you can pull things out as well.”

“Your degree in magical artefacts is serving you well, I see,” her mother laughs, and Uncle Henry laughs too.

“I'm having flashbacks to the time Hannah's trunk malfunctioned and I had to try and fix it, actually,” he says. “Girls, if your trunk breaks, ask your charms professor, not your parents. Gerry works for a newspaper, do not trust him with space extending charms.”

Her father presses a hand to his heart as if he’s offended, but he’s laughing. “Jemimah shouldn’t be trusted either!”

“Just because I work in the fashion industry does not mean I'm not skilled in charms,” her mother says primly. “But please, do ask Professor Flitwick, rather than us.”

“Stori can have one of the telescopes we have at home,” Daphne pipes up, waving the list in the air, “but she needs a wand now.”

Astoria's eyes widen, and she tugs at her mother’s hand. “Can we?”

Uncle Henry laughs, and claps her father on his shoulder. “Go on, get the kid a wand, Gerry.”

Her father nods, and waves goodbye to Henry. Astoria can see Ollivander's shop a way down the street, and she drags her parents with her, trembling with excitement.

The dark glass front looms in front of her, and she steels herself, before entering.

A small bell chimes, and an old man - Ollivander - appears as if from nowhere, a genial smile on his weathered face.

“Ah, the young Miss Greengrass,” he says in a low, hoarse voice. “So that hair can work on someone! Evidently, your father is the exception, not the rule.”

Astoria flushes. Yes, she has the same hair as her father, but it’s a little jarring for it to be pointed out in public, although it was a compliment, she thinks.

“I remember all of your wands,” he continues, gesturing to the rest of her family, “but you look a little tricky, hm? Your wand hand,” he instructs, and she sticks out her right hand.

A tape measure comes flying from nowhere, and rapidly measures her up. Ollivander mutters to himself, and starts pulling boxes down from shelves.

“Try this,” and he provides her with a dark, slender wand, varnished and shining. “Cherry wood, dragon heartstring.”

When Astoria picks it up and waves it a little, nothing happens. She tries to hide her crushing disappointment as Ollivander tuts and takes it away.

“Willow, unicorn hair.” The wand is very swishy, but nothing happens - no sparks, no wind, no magic.

“Pine- no, definitely not pine,” he says, eyeing her suspiciously. “Try this one. Mahogany, hippogriff hair.”

Nothing happens, and Ollivander snatches it away, a glint in his eye. “This one, I think! Silver lime, unicorn horn.”

There’s a warmth in Astoria's hand as she holds it, which thrills her, but nothing more happens. Ollivander's shoulders drop and he seems to shrink with disappointment.

“I was so sure… no, foolish… Mervyn!” he calls out suddenly, and a slight, red-headed boy a little older than Daphne appears.

“Yes, uncle?” he asks, eyes bright.

“I have a challenge for you,” Ollivander says, and presents Astoria. “We were close with silver lime, but I think she’ll need something a little unusual.”

The boy perks up, and dashes into the back of the shop, returning with a box. The wand inside is made from two pieces of wood twisted together - both are carved with little flowers, though of different kinds.

Her mother leans over, and points them out to Astoria. “Primrose for eternity, lilac for youth.”

“It’s the same wood, but they’re varnished differently,” the boy, Mervyn, points out. The wood with primroses on is darker than the other piece, and Astoria loves her wand already.

She picks it up, and the same warmth fills her, though this time, a bright white glow emanates from the tip of the wand.

Without warning, a weakness takes her, and she swoons, her father catching her. She leans against him, as her mother bursts into tears. Daphne takes the wand and puts it back in the box, giving Mervyn a nervous smile.

“What is the wood?” Astoria finds the strength to ask, blinking slowly at the boy. She feels ill, and frail, but she manages to stand on her own, clutching at Daphne's hand.

“Unicorn hair core,” he explains, “and the wood is from the wood laurel, daphne laureola. It’s said that laurel can’t perform a dishonourable act, so I'm- I'm sure it’s a good fit.”

Astoria gives a breathy laugh. “Hear that, Daph? My wand is daphne wood.”

Daphne smiles, nervously. “I like that, Stori.”

Chapter Text

Her parents have been fretting over Astoria ever since the outing to Diagon, and she has to say she finds it very frustrating.

Daphne’s closeted herself in her room to read up on her electives - arithmancy, runes and muggle studies - so Astoria can’t even talk to her about the ridiculous way her mother hovers as if Astoria is going to faint at any time.

Astoria had to sit in St Mungo's for an hour after they left Ollivander's, waiting to see if any more symptoms would present themselves, and Andi's darkly worried look wasn’t spared on her.

She really wants to go down to the village for a walk, but with the ridiculous protections her parents have put on her, it’s unlikely she’d make it outside of the house before her mother would come running with a cushion and a blanket.

Andi and Daphne are out as options, Miss Stick is busy packing for university, and Astoria doubts Uncle Henry and Auntie Kezia would be willing to stage a break-out.

Uncle Isaac, however…

Uncle Isaac is Aunty Keren’s husband - Aunty Keren is her mother and Auntie Kezia's sister, and the pair of them are far less of a stick in the mud than any of the others. Besides, their kids, her cousins Anya and Anthony, are always up for an adventure.

Astoria waits until her father is in his office and her mother is off giving Daphne a lecture before sneaking into the receiving room and dialling Uncle Isaac.

“Goldstein residence, how can I help you?” comes the cheerful voice from the phone, and Astoria grins.

“Hi Aunty Keren! Can I come over?”

“Oh, Astoria! Hello, my love! Are your parents around?”

Astoria frowns. “They’re busy at the moment. I was just wondering if I could discuss what Hogwarts is going to be like with Anya and Ant?”

She crosses her fingers; there’s silence on the other end.

“Of course, darling! I'll open the floo, you can come right over.”

Astoria grins.

The floo powder is easy to steal, and she’s out of the house without her parents realising anything.

As soon as she tumbles out of the Goldsteins’ fireplace, Anya and Ant’s identical grins are waiting for her.

“We were wondering-” Anya starts.

“Why you would rather talk to us,” Anthony continues.

“Than Daphne,” Anya shakes her head.

“And then we realised-”

“Daphne's boring,” Anya whispers.

“And we are anything but boring,” Ant says with pride.

“So of course, you would-”

“Come to us, rather than her, because-”

“We have the best insider knowledge-”

“Of Hogwarts and its denizens,” Ant declares.

“And we can tell you far more fun stories than her,” Anya finishes, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Ant, remind me why I decided to grow out my hair?”

“You’re trying to impress Isobel Macdougal, and you’re sick of looking like me,” Anthony tells her flatly. “So, Astoria, what is it you want to know?”

Astoria sighs. “I mostly just wanted to get away from my parents being overbearing,” she admits, “but do you have any advice for my first year?”

The twins trade looks. “Well-” Anya starts, dragging the syllable out.

“Avoid Snape, avoid Filch, avoid Dumbledore,” Anthony checks off his fingers.

“Listen to McGonagall, listen to Hooch, listen to Sinistra,” Anya lists.

“The other teachers, you can get away with anything,” Ant shrugs.

“Keep telling people that we’re the coolest twins, not the Weasleys.”

“Make friends with a Weasley and you get all the gossip,” Ant wiggles his eyebrows.

“Have fun first and second year, work kicks off in third year, we’ve been told.”

“Avoid Harry Potter! He gets into the weirdest trouble and you don’t need to deal with that.”

“House points are fake and don’t matter, but a choice few people seriously care about them,” Anya sighs. “If you end up in a house with someone who takes house points seriously - read, Morag - do your best to appease them.”

“It's no fun falling out with your housemates,” Ant nods sagely. “I've never had this problem, unlike Anya.”

Anya sticks her tongue out. “Don’t worry about getting sorted - your parents let you get away with anything, they won’t care where you end up.”

“Advice for you specifically, little cousin: listen to Pomfrey. If you spend any amount of time in the hospital wing, you want to be on her good side.” Ant shudders at some memory.

“Hogwarts library’s fairly useless, so bribe an upper-year if you want specific books.”

“Teachers are mostly pretty decent, so it’s worth asking them for help if you’re stuck.”

“But not Snape,” Anya adds vehemently.

“Do you have any questions for us?” Ant asks, catching the overwhelmed look on Astoria's face.

She thinks about it. Does she have any questions? What does she really want to know about the place she’s going to be staying for the next seven years?

“Is there football?” she asks, knowing in misery what the answer is going to be.

“No,” Anya says ruefully, “but if you can convince enough muggleborns, you could probably start up a club. Creevey, year below us, likes football. So does Dean Thomas, Gryffindor in our year. You could probably get something going if you wanted.”

Astoria shakes her head. Really, it’s her friends she’s going to miss, not the sport itself.

“And when do you get to start quidditch?”

Ant laughs. “Flying lessons are only for first years, but you’re not allowed a broom at school until second year. Try out as a reserve as soon as you can, cause it’s worth it to learn the strategy - so Michael says - but don’t expect to make the team.”

“Unless you’re Harry Potter, which I can see you’re not,” Anya rolls her eyes. “I swear, that boy hasn’t met a rule he couldn’t break.”

Astoria, like every other pureblood child in Britain, has a little bit of hero-worship for Harry Potter. “Tell me about him!”

Anya sighs dramatically, and flops onto the floor. Anthony shakes his head, but obliges her.

“He's just a bit odd, Astoria. He doesn’t really like people much - he’ll flinch if you so much as make eye contact - but he’s always glued to the side of either Weasley or Granger. Oh, Granger’s his muggleborn best friend. She's top of our year and annoys Malfoy something awful. Our first year, Potter killed a teacher, who was being possessed. Last year, it turned out he can talk to snakes, and exams were all cancelled because Potter killed the monster that had been petrifying people.”

Astoria's eyes widen. Her parents never tell her anything that might upset her health, and apparently they didn’t see fit to mention that a monster had been petrifying people while Daphne was at school!

“He’s weirdly powerful - can manage stupid powerful stuff, I mean - but he’s not avidly intelligent or anything. He’s noble, though - sticks up for people, I mean. He'd probably be a brilliant guy to have in your corner, but if you get too close, you get drawn into the crazy.” Ant shrugs.

“Poor Longbottom,” Anya sighs. “He was so normal. Then he ended up in a dorm with Potter, and now I barely recognise the boy.”

Astoria's about to ask more, when the sharp crack of apparition echoes throughout the house. She jumps, startled, but Anya just rolls over lazily. “What was that?”

“Oh, mum’s got an appointment, probably,” Ant explains. “Cause she’s the muggle culture liaison for the DMLE, there are aurors popping in all the time.”

A head pokes round the door, and Astoria blinks up at it. The head is joined by a body, and followed by Aunty Keren.

“Children, this is Tonks, a fairly new auror,” Aunty Keren says cheerfully. “Tonks, these are my two, and Geronimus and Jemimah's little one, Astoria.”

“Are you Andi's kid?” Astoria asks. Tonks is Andi's surname, but Astoria thought Andi had a daughter. This person is… very androgynous, with bright purple hair, and dark skin, which doesn’t match up with Andi at all.

Then a change comes over Tonks - their skin lightens, their hair lengthens and fades into a pastel pink, and their features change into ones that match what Andi's daughter would probably have.

“Wotcher, Astoria! Yep - finally becoming a full auror while my crazy cousin is at large is hectic as anything, and Keren's the department specialist on disguise, so I thought I’d introduce myself,” she explains brightly, winking.

Aunty Keren is the specialist on disguise because during the war, the Goldsteins had to go into hiding. Uncle Isaac is a potioneer, and he was outspoken against Voldemort during the war. Aunty Keren hid them all in the muggle world for years, and joined the ministry as a muggle culture liaison afterwards, so she could help other people. It’s also why that little branch of the family has kept Aunty Keren’s maiden name, Goldstein, instead of Uncle Isaac’s surname.

Although, Astoria can’t really see why Tonks is here, as it seems like she has a handle on disguises.

“I thought your name was Nymphadora?” Astoria asks, naively.

Tonks’ expression changes from cheerful to a mix of indignant, frustrated, and angry. her hair turns a startling shade of red, and shortens into a spiky pixie cut. “Don’t call me Nymphadora!”

Ant and Anya start laughing, and even Aunty Keren has to hide a smile. “Um… sorry?” Astoria says, tentatively. “Tonks.”

Tonks sighs, and her hair returns to the pink it was before. “No, it’s not your fault. It's my mother’s. For saddling me with the name Nymphadora.”

Astoria snickers. “I like it, though! At least it has meaning. I think my parents meant to call me Asteria and there was a typo on the birth certificate.”

Tonks laughs at that, her hair browning and curling to match Astoria's, before lightening and shortening to match Ant’s shaggy haircut. “Is it going to be your first year at Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” Astoria sighs. “Anya and Ant were just telling me about what it’s like there.”

A wicked grin comes over Tonks’ face, and she shrinks to their height, sitting cross-legged on the floor with them. “You’re going to have such a great time.”

The four of them manage to spend hours discussing Hogwarts. Astoria asks hundreds of questions, drinking in all the information they can give her. Tonks shares hilarious stories of accidents and pranks and other ridiculous situations she found herself in, and Astoria's pretty sure the twins are taking notes.

Astoria knows it can’t last, though - as nice as an afternoon with her cousins is, she didn’t tell anyone before leaving, and her parents are probably tearing their hair out with worry. She feels a little guilty, but suppresses it with the knowledge that they’ll understand… probably.

Her parents want what’s best for her, always. If that means putting her health in jeopardy to send her somewhere she’ll be happy, they’ll do it. If that means letting her run off to her cousins to get some freedom - they might not be happy about it, but they’ll see the necessity.

She hopes.

It will look better if she goes back on her own, rather than waiting for them to collect her, so she makes her farewells and heads for the floo.

“Oh, Astoria, before you go-” Tonks calls, waving from where she’s still sitting next to the twins, an odd look on her face. “You have a muggle tutor, right?”

Astoria giggles. “Yes! Her name’s Miss Stick.”

Tonks frowns. “Her name is mystic?”

“No, Miss Stick,” Astoria enunciates. “She's going to Oxford to study maths and dimensional physics this September.”

Tonks nods to herself, lips twitching. “And you wouldn’t happen to know why my mother is so insistent we’d be friends?”

“Ask her yourself,” Astoria says, offended on Miss Stick's behalf. “I think she’s wonderful.”

Tonks huffs, but waves goodbye, so Astoria reluctantly steps into the fireplace and calls out her address.

Her parents are standing in front of the floo, looking disappointed.

“You are grounded until the first of September,” her mother says, tears springing to her eyes. “How could you be so reckless?”

“Your mother and I have been worried sick,” her father says, face inscrutable. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Astoria frowns, shuffling one foot in the soot by the fireplace. “You were treating me like I was going to collapse in a fit any second! I get you have to worry, but I'm not made out of glass. I know the twins wouldn’t treat me like that,” she mutters, kicking at the floor.

Her mother sniffs, but gentles. “Oh, Astoria.”

Astoria grudgingly accepts the hug of apology from her mother, tucking herself under her arm and hiding her face in her side. “I love you.”

“We love you too, flower.”

Chapter Text

Astoria's mother is in floods of tears as she waves an embroidered handkerchief at her girls. Her father, on the other hand, is a statue, face set in stone.

Daphne finally managed to pull herself out of her books, and she tolerates their mother’s ministrations with a small smile. Astoria is impressed with the grace with which she accepts the hugs - even at age thirteen, Daphne is already the perfect pureblood heir.

Astoria is nearly bouncing with excitement. Her trunk is floating at her side, she’s already wearing her robes, and she’s almost ready to make a break for it and jump onto the train.

“Alright,” her mother says tearily, “make sure to write to tell us what house you get into, Astoria, and keep in touch even after that! We’ll see you at Hanukkah, it’s not too long, and Astoria, you must keep track of your health! Daphne, please don’t work yourself too hard.”

Daphne awkwardly offers their mother a side hug. “We'll be back before you know it.”

“Oh, my girls,” she cries. “Please have a good time.”

“Love you!” Astoria yells, tapping at her father’s arm. “Can we go now?”

“Sweets!” her mother shrieks, retrieving a pack from the inside of her robe’s pocket. “Sweets! They help you make friends!”

“I think Astoria can make friends on her own,” Daphne says, but Astoria gratefully pockets the sweets. “We’ll owl as soon as we can.”

“Oh, my girls.”

Astoria waves frantically, before escaping while she still can, guiding her trunk with one hand.

“You can sit with me and my friends if you really want,” Daphne warns, “but don’t you dare bother us.”

Astoria sticks her tongue out. “I can make my own friends, Daph.”

Daphne snorts, and squeezes her shoulder. “If you feel ill, excuse yourself and go lie down.”

Astoria nods dutifully, before wriggling away in search of a compartment with other first years in.

She doesn’t find one, but she does locate Hannah and Leo, sitting together.

“Hi,” she chirps, and slots her trunk in the overhead rails. “What house do you think you’re going to be in?”

Leo shrugs, eyes wide. “Probably Hufflepuff like Hannah.” He laughs, running a hand through his hair, and his curls stand on end. “You?”

Astoria sighs dramatically, and drapes herself on the seat. “I just don’t know, Leo. My only option is Gryffindor if I want to accentuate my features.”

Hannah laughs loudly, her rosy cheeks dimpled. “Oh, Astoria! I forgot how funny you were!”

It's been a while since Astoria has seen these particular cousins of hers, so she can forgive Hannah for her slip of remembrance, and tells her so.

“Anyway,” she continues, “if I end up in Slytherin I’ll just be riding the social wave Daphne's created, and that’s just lazy. Ravenclaw-” she takes a moment to giggle “- well I’m not exactly studious, am I. Hufflepuff would be alright,” she says, cautious not to offend, “but yellow is no one’s colour.”

Hannah's very conspicuously not wearing any yellow other than her tie - there’s no coloured jumper or scarf, instead she’s in a grey cardigan.

“I agree,” Hannah says, straight-faced. “You should see poor Susan in her uniform! I think she would have suited Slytherin far more, in personality as well as looks, but she’s so fiercely loyal that of course she’s a Hufflepuff.”

Astoria nods, letting her head tilt back and staring out of the window. The train hasn’t left yet, and she can see her parents if she cranes her neck. Her mother is still crying.

“What's Hogwarts like for you, then?” she asks absent-mindedly, and lets Hannah talk for a while.

Eventually, the train pulls away, and Astoria opens the window to wave madly at her parents. She can’t recognise Daphne's arm from her vantage point, but she knows that she’ll be waving too.

Once Kings’ Cross is behind them, Astoria settles back down, watching the view pass her by. Leo pesters Hannah to tell them stories, and they’re kept well-entertained by her anecdotes.

Hannah's in the middle of telling them about the time Potter sicced a snake on one of the Hufflepuffs when the door slides open, and a redhead with two first years at her side storms in.

“Hannah,” she snaps, “you’re mature and responsible.”

“Did you have a good summer, Susan?” Hannah replies cheerfully, flushing a little. Her hand drifts up to tug at the shining golden end of her plait, and Astoria grins.

“And look, you’re already running a first year daycare,” Susan says, as if she hasn’t heard Hannah. “I found these two in the company of Lee Jordan, we need to provide them with adequate role models.”

“Oh, and all the prefects are busy?” Hannah asks mildly. Susan blushes, her cheeks turning almost as red as her hair.

“Well, I trust you more,” she announces a little gruffly, and pushes the two first years forwards. “This is Hannah Abbott, and she’s a Hufflepuff like me. This is Leo, her brother, who’s your age.”

“I'm Mattie!” the boy pipes up, brushing his mop of hair out of his face. “Isn’t magic cool? I've only known about it for a few months. What’s potions like? That sounds most interesting.”

“Shut up, Mattie,” the girl hisses. “They’re third years. I bet they don’t want us bothering them.” She sneaks a glance up at Hannah, then Susan. “I'm Maisie,” she says, as if she doesn’t quite believe it.

“I'm Astoria,” Astoria declares, “I'm your age as well. You may as well give up your hopes about potions, I've heard the professor’s a prick.”

Mattie squeaks and Susan laughs, sharp and loud. “Who taught you that?”

“The boys on my football team,” Astoria answers. “And anyway, Daphne said it was accurate.”

Susan stops laughing, and squints at her. “You’re Greengrass’ sister?”

“I'm Greengrass,” Astoria says dryly, and Susan shakes her head, smiling slightly.

“Hannah, want to go find Sally-Anne? She said she was going to ask the Gryffindor Patil about what charms she uses on her hair, so we ought to rescue her before she bites off more than she can chew.”

Leo's eyes widen in alarm as his sister gets up, but Hannah ruffles his hair, and extricates herself from the corner she’s been tucked into. “You four look after each other,” she instructs as she receives her trunk. “Leo, be good.”

Leo squawks and protests, but Hannah leaves him with a blown kiss, sliding the door closed behind her.

“At Hogwarts, we’re sorted into four houses,” Astoria informs Mattie. “Slytherin’s green, and is for the cunning and the sly. Ravenclaw’s blue, and is for the creative and curious. Hufflepuff’s yellow, and is for the loyal and resilient. Gryffindor’s red, and is for the daring and proud.”

Mattie nods, and sits down when Maisie tugs sharply at his hand. “They were Hufflepuffs?”

“Yes,” Leo says, “I'm probably going to be Hufflepuff too. It often runs in families.”

“Not necessarily,” Astoria says, pursing her lips. “My sister Daphne - she’s very good, Daphne - she’s a Slytherin, but I have no clue where I'll end up.”

“I'm going to be a Ravenclaw,” Maisie tells Mattie, “so you have to be too.”

“Alright,” Mattie says. “Anyone got any sweets?”

Astoria becomes the most popular person in the carriage as she pulls out her mother’s gift, and just like that, she has three friends.

They spend hours chatting and debating, and Astoria has to shift positions three times as she loses feeling in her feet and has to endure the stabbing pins and needles.

After the third time, Mattie is looking at her with worry. “You’ve got really bad circulation,” he remarks, and Astoria tries not to feel offended.

“I have a medical condition,” she says as flippantly as she can manage. “It's not a problem. You were telling me about the Arsenal game you saw?”

Mattie drops the subject, but Astoria feels Maisie's calculating gaze on her for a while afterwards.

The rolling hills drop away, replaced by trees rushing past the window, which slow until the train comes to an unwilling stop, the wheels squealing against the track and the carriages creaking.

“This isn’t Hogwarts,'' Leo says, somewhat redundantly, as a forest very clearly is not a castle.

Maisie opens the window, shuddering away from the gust of cold air, and leans halfway out. “We’re on a bridge,” she reports, and closes the window, returning to her seat.

Frost creeps onto the glass pane, and Astoria shivers, tucking her knees up to her chest. “It's freezing in here,” she mutters, and Mattie squeaks.

“Astoria, your fingers are blue!”

Astoria inspects her hands, disappointed to find out that he’s right. “Poor circulation,” she murmurs. “I'll be fine.”

She bundles her hands in her jumper - plain grey, but one of those charmed to turn the colour of the house she’s sorted into - and gratefully accepts Maisie’s scarf to wrap around them.

They fall into an uncomfortable silence, eyeing the door warily. Without warning, a scream shoots through the train, before falling silent in an instant.

Astoria sneezes.

“Well, that undercut the drama nicely,” Maisie whispers, and Mattie laughs nervously.

The door begins to open. Astoria can’t see what’s behind it, because they have the shutter on the window pulled down, but as the doorway yawns wider, she makes out the shape of a hooded figure against the unnatural fog.

“What is that?” Mattie asks, voice trembling. “And why- why do I feel so-”

Astoria's hit with a wave of despair, so strong her teeth chatter from it, and she slips off her seat, vision swimming.

“Astoria!” Leo calls, but her eyes flutter closed and she’s dead to the world.

Her next conscious thought is, that is the biggest chocolate bar I’ve ever seen. A shabby looking man is snapping off a piece of chocolate from a bar bigger than her face, and offering it to her.

She smells it, taking the piece with suspicion. “Is this Cadbury's?”

The man laughs, and Mattie snickers as well. The colour’s returned to his cheeks, though his dark hair has fallen in front of his eyes. “Yes. I've found it to be the best for warding off dementors.”

“It was a dementor that opened the door,” Leo says, and Astoria lifts her head to squint at him. He's wringing his hands the same way Hannah does, and there’s a chocolate crumb in the corner of his mouth.

Astoria points out neither of those things. “A dementor. One of the guards of Azkaban?” she asks, trying to remember anything she’s heard about them. A distant headline from three or four years ago is the only thing registering, and Astoria finds herself bitterly wishing she’d had a magical tutor.

“Yes,” the man says grimly. “It was looking for Sirius Black.”

“Tonks’ demented cousin,” Astoria says, with vague recognition. “Huh. None of us are him,” she explains.

“I am aware,” the man says, hiding a smile. “You’re Hogwarts students, and I will be one of your professors. We’ll be at the castle in another hour, I should think,” he says, glancing at Mattie and Maisie, both of whom are still in muggle clothes. “Eat the chocolate, you’ll feel better.”

“It wasn’t… it wasn’t a reaction to the dementor,” Astoria explains quietly. “It was the strong magic. I’m- I’m Astoria, Astoria Greengrass.”

The man nods with recognition, and retrieves a small can from his pocket. “In which case, some good old fashioned caffeine is the best remedy, I think.”

Astoria takes the can of coke and cracks the ring pull, grinning. “How did you know?”

The man smiles ruefully. “I have some experience with conditions of the like,” he says. “I have always found cola to be an adequate pick-me-up after a faint.”

Maisie chooses that moment to but in. “Conditions?” she says discerningly, glancing between Astoria and the professor. “Astoria, what’s going on?”

The professor raises his eyebrows, and Astoria sighs. “I'll explain in a minute,” she says, vaguely irritated. “Thank you, professor…”

“Lupin,” he finishes, giving her a small wave. “I'll see you all in my defence lessons. I hope you enjoy the feast.”

He leaves, and the door shuts behind him. Suddenly, Astoria is the centre of attention, laid out as she is on the seat. She bites her lip, and casts her gaze to Leo.

He doesn't know anything about her condition. Neither does Hannah, though the twins do. Astoria realises that she has no idea what to say.

She opens her mouth, and is about to say something - although she doesn’t know what - when Maisie interrupts.

“You’ve got anaemia, don’t you?”

Astoria closes her mouth, considering. She knows that it’s similar, of course - hers is a blood curse, it portrays many of the same symptoms, though not many of the same treatments are effective.

“It's similar,” she says slowly, “but a wizarding version.”

Maisie nods, certain. “That's alright, then. so long as you’re not dying, or anything.”

Astoria laughs, and doesn’t correct her.

Chapter Text

The first years are quickly corralled and hustled into boats. Astoria's still feeling a tad woozy, and she catches a glimpse of the dementors, hovering menacingly across the lake.

She winds up in a boat with Mattie and a boy she’s not seen before, who introduces himself as Raza. He seems nice enough, if not particularly chatty, and Astoria focuses on keeping the circulation moving in her toes and ignoring the headache that’s starting to batter between her eyes.

The silent motion of the boats cutting through the still mirror of the lake fascinates Astoria, though she makes sure not to lean too far out, lest she risk falling into the lake.

One girl falls in. Astoria giggles a little, and Mattie joins in laughing.

By the time they reach the castle, the girl’s mostly dried off. Astoria has to quash the sudden nerves that flutter in her stomach, and she retrieves the forgotten chocolate from her pocket.

A stern-faced woman comes to greet them, surveying their uniform - Mattie's crooked tie earns a quick rebuke and a swish of her wand, which straightens it, and earns Mattie's wide-eyed stare.

McGonagall gives them a quick rundown of the houses - Astoria has to frown when she realises that the explanation is a little more prejudiced than the one she gave. McGonagall is a proud Gryffindor, but Astoria wonders if she can be a little too proud. She doesn’t linger, though, hurrying off when she sees the other students, and the tiny Professor Flitwick joins them instead.

Astoria screams along with everyone else when the ghosts burst through the wall. She's literally never seen a ghost before.

“Welcome to Hogwarts!” calls a jolly man, and when he waves, his hand goes straight through Astoria.

There’s an uncomfortable pressure in her nose, and then it starts bleeding.

“God, Astoria!” Mattie yells, and pulls off his tie. “Here, hold this to it.”

“Not to worry, that can soon be fixed,” Flitwick says in a high voice, and pulls out his wand.

“No!” Astoria yelps, the sound somewhat muffled by the tie. “I’m not supposed to-”

“Nonsense,” Flitwick sighs, and flicks his wand.

The bleeding stops, but Astoria swoons, a dizzy feeling taking her. A headache stabs through her, and she collapses against the nearest person.

It's a while before she finds the strength to stand on her own two feet, and crack her eyes open. Raza - apparently who caught her - is still standing near, his dark gaze fixed on her. Flitwick has disappeared, but Professor Lupin is there instead.

“Hello, professor,” Astoria murmurs, rubbing at her nose. “Am I missing the sorting?”

“Just the hat’s song,” Professor Lupin assures her. “Are you alright?”

“Headache,” she sighs, “but it’s- fine.”

Professor Lupin frowns, and reaches into his pocket, to pull out a pack of ibuprofen. “Do you need water, or-”

She takes the offered pills and swallows them dry. “You are a lifesaver.”

Raza touches her arm gently, and smiles. “Are you ready to go in?”

Astoria nods, smiling back. She rubs at her nose until she’s satisfied she’s adequately cleaned up, and takes a deep breath, massaging her temples.

“Professor Flitwick didn’t recognise you,” Professor Lupin says in a low voice as they enter the hall. “He feels awful. He thought you were a muggleborn, wary about magic.”

“I don't blame him at all,” Astoria promises. “I shan't even tell my parents.”

Lupin gives her a warm smile and a clap on the shoulder, and leaves the two of them for the teachers’ table.

The sorting hat is just finishing its song - a very peculiar song, Astoria thinks - and Flitwick pulls out a scroll.

“Abbott, Leo,” he calls, and Leo scrambles forwards to take his place under the hat.

Astoria looks across to the Hufflepuff table, where Hannah is watching Leo, wringing her hands in front of her. Susan takes one of her hands and squeezes it, and Hannah relaxes slightly.

“Hufflepuff!” the hat calls at last, and Leo grins, making for the Hufflepuff table as they erupt into cheers.

Astoria doesn’t recognise any of the other students sorted after that - some of the names twig faint remembrance, but Astoria has no real knowledge of them - until Flitwick calls for “Greengrass, Astoria!”

Astoria's struck with nerves, and she sits on the stool provided as daintily as possible, worrying about how the hat knows where to put her.

Greengrass, comes a foreign voice in her head, accompanied with the return of pain - this time a dull throbbing. I remember your sister. I sent her to Slytherin.

Cool colours wash me out, Astoria thinks as loudly as possible. The faint impression of laughter echoes in her head.

Your loyalty to your family is to be admired, the hat claims, and as is your bravery in choosing your own path.

Astoria doesn’t know what to think. She doesn’t think she’s been particularly brave at all - she didn’t tell Maisie, Mattie and Leo the truth, and at the danger of the dementor all she did was faint away.

Nonsense, the hat says. It takes a great deal of bravery to set aside the danger to your own health and choose to enter the unknown.

Astoria's not sure how far she agrees with that, but she concedes the point. So I'd fit in with the Gryffindors.

Does anyone truly fit in? The hat asks nonsensically. You have a passion for uncovering the undiscovered that would serve you well in Ravenclaw. You’re sly enough to carve your own path in Slytherin. Your hard work and diligence has been proven, and would make you a true Hufflepuff.

Ah, lovely, I'm an all-rounder, Astoria thinks, restraining herself from rolling her eyes. I thought you were supposed to choose where I'm supposed to go?

You raise a very good point, the hat says. And in this case I’m sure, your house is-

“Gryffindor!” yells a voice from above her, and Astoria grins.

Reds suit her complexion very well.

The nearest open seat is next to a pale and drawn ginger girl, who looks small enough to be a first year. Astoria sits down, and offers her a smile.

The girl looks startled, but smiles back.

The rest of the sorting passes, while Astoria gets more and more impatient. Mattie goes to Ravenclaw like he promised, and waves to Astoria as he sits down. Raza becomes a Gryffindor as well, and sits down next to Astoria.

“Good to see you,” Astoria whispers, and Raza smiles back.

Maisie joins Mattie in Ravenclaw, and immediately starts whispering to him. Astoria watches with a giggle as a prefect hushes them, and Maisie goes pale.

There's no one else Astoria recognises, but the last girl to be sorted - Romilda Vane - goes to Gryffindor, and takes a seat opposite Raza and Astoria.

“Aren’t you pleased to be in Gryffindor,” she gushes quietly, “I know I am.”

Astoria gives her a sideways glance, but doesn’t reply. Dumbledore stands up to give his speech, starting with a small cough.

“Welcome!” Dumbledore starts, and smiles at the students. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out of the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast.”

He surveys the expressions of the students, and Astoria shifts in her seat.

“As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on ministry of magic business.”

“They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds,” Dumbledore continues, “and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises - or even invisibility cloaks. It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I therefore warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new head boy and girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors,” he says.

Astoria doesn’t know who the head boy and girl are, but a susurrus is raised at the table, and the ginger girl next to her points out a girl with tight braids as prefect, and a ginger boy with horn-rimmed glasses as head boy.

“On a happier note,” Dumbledore continues, “I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of defence against the dark arts teacher.”

Astoria looks up to where Professor Lupin is standing, and joins some scattered Gryffindors in applauding. He smiles over at their table specifically, as if acknowledging their support.

“As to our second new appointment,” Dumbledore continues, a twinkle in his eye.

“Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our care of magical creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties.”

Astoria has no reference for any of this - Daphne’s not taking care of magical creatures - but three students a little further up the table burst into delighted applause, and Astoria has the sneaking suspicion that the dark-haired boy with the glasses is Harry Potter.

“Well, I think that’s everything of importance,” Dumbledore says. “Let the feast begin!”

As the food appears onto shining platters, Astoria turns to the girl next to her. “I’m Astoria Greengrass,” she explains, “and this is Raza. What’s your name?”

The girl gives Astoria a wan smile. “I’m Ginny, I’m a second year,” she says quietly. “Ginny Weasley.”

Astoria’s eyes light up. “It’s lovely to meet you! My cousins, Anya and Ant, they insist that they’re the better twins, rather than the Weasleys, but I shan’t express any opinions one way or another until I’ve met all the parties involved.”

Ginny snorts, and points out two identical gingers sitting near to the head boy. “Those are the twins - Fred and George - next to Percy. I’ve got three other brothers apart from them.”

Astoria winces. “That must be tough! I’ve only got one sister and she’s a handful most of the time.” She points out Daphne, who waves. “Although it must be nice having lots of people to talk to. When Daph went to Hogwarts, my parents thought I was lonely, so I joined a football team. You don’t have enough people in your family for football,” she says, with a critical eye, “but you do for quidditch.”

Ginny laughs again, and she looks markedly less pale. “Charlie plays seeker and Ron plays keeper, and the twins are automatically beaters, so the rest of us are relegated to chasers - which is what I’m best at, but Percy’s tragically awful at it.”

She glances over to her brother, before leaning in close. “He’s dating Oliver Wood, who’s the current Gryffindor captain, and everyone in our family is quidditch mad, so he really is the odd one out. Him and my eldest two brothers are the nicest, even if Percy’s a bit of a stick in the mud.”

“My little sister’s not old enough for Hogwarts,” Raza chips in, “and she’s cleverer than me already. I hate to see how much she’ll have learnt when I get back.”

Astoria groans. “Oh, I get you. My tutor, Miss Stick, is going to be so disappointed with how little non-magical education I get this year. The entire summer’s going to be devoted to maths,” she moans, “and that’s if I’m lucky. If she’s feeling evil, we’ll spend it doing-” she shudders “-biology.”

Ginny bursts into laughter, which attracts the attention of all of the gingers sitting at the table. They mostly seem surprised, with a fair bit of relief.

Ginny doesn’t notice.

“My mum does her best with teaching us non-magical things,” she explains, “but we don’t really do much. My brothers are awful at muggle culture, as well. The last time I tried to take them to the village, Ron stood in the middle of the road and nearly got run over.”

Astoria presses a hand to her mouth, and tries to suppress her giggles.

Raza fills his plate, and nudges Astoria with his shoulder. “You should eat something,” he insists. “Especially if you’re still not feeling well.”

Ginny takes his advice to heart as well, shuddering as she reaches across the table. “You mean after the dementors? They were awful, weren’t they? I-”

She stops, hand halfway outstretched, a terrible expression on her face. Astoria frowns, and squeezes her shoulder.

Ginny flinches at the touch, but seems to settle. “Sorry,” she says, quiet. “They really were awful.”

Astoria nods. “Do you want any potatoes?”

“Please,” Ginny says fervently, a blotchy flush creeping up her neck. “Parsnips?”

“I’d love some.”

Chapter Text

After spending the lunch hour making polite conversation with McGonagall - not Minerva, as she wants him to call her - Remus sits on top of the desk that apparently is his, and gazes at the classroom.

He can remember hundreds of lessons spent here passing notes back and forth and gossiping about fellow students, can recall seven different teachers with seven different teaching styles, all making this classroom uniquely theirs.

Remus had spent many a happy day learning defence, and many an unhappy night putting his lessons to work during the war.

With any luck, the children he has to teach now will never have the same use for what he could teach them, though he’ll teach them nonetheless.

His first class is with the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw first-years - somewhat appropriate - though they’ll be coming from herbology.

The classroom is already set up with everything in order - Dumbledore had asked what his specialty had been, before hiring him, and apparently his tongue-in-cheek answer of “magical creatures” had been the right one.

Defence teachers at Hogwarts are selected specifically for a specialty - if the students can have a devoted year of education in one area of defence, they’re more likely to learn the topic than seven years of general study - so his classes have to be similar for every year group.

Unfortunate, given that skill levels will vastly differ, but fair enough.

The creatures he’s hoping to study with the students are already mostly in place - skeletons mounted on the walls, preserved specimens in jars on the shelves - and Remus has managed to clean the dinge from the windows, so that natural light illuminates the room better than it did even when he was a first-year.

The first lesson for every year will be a practical one, as a precedent for the rest of the year. The discovery of a boggart in a staff-room wardrobe was a stroke of luck, as he’s planning on using it for every class.

Remus hops off the desk and retrieves the class register, squinting at some of the names.

Astoria Greengrass and Raza Mohammud, he recognises, if only from the misadventures of the day before. He will need a slightly different lesson approach for Astoria, he recalls, and sighs.

A blood curse, aggravated by magic. It’s a cruel fate for an eleven year old to be resigned to, and Remus can’t help but see the similarities with his own curse.

Lycanthropy isn’t aggravated by magic, but rather isn’t affected at all by it. No pepper-up potion could rid Remus of the fatigue caused by the full moon, nor could any pain potion soothe the aches in his bones.

Sixth year especially, he remembers only half of, as he spent much of his time dissociating through classes, loopy on painkillers, or riding the caffeine high from an unhealthy amount of red bull.

Sirius had been the best at potions of the four of them, and had always been the one looking for any solution to mitigate Remus’ aches and pains. He had bought the formula of the Wolfsbane potion and had spent years trying to take the same principles and improve it, with no luck.

Remus wonders if anyone has spent years trying to find solutions for Astoria’s curse, before shutting down the train of thought that leads to Sirius with unflinching harshness.

Sirius, Peter, James - they’re all dead, or as good as. Nothing good can come of musing on them.

It’s about the time that his classroom should be filling up with bright-eyed first years, so Remus sits back down on top of his desk and waits.

The first to enter are two eager Ravenclaws. Remus recognises them, and places them as being in Astoria’s carriage after the dementor attack.

The blonde girl drags the boy to the front of the classroom, and takes one of the seats in the front row, retrieving her textbook from her bag and sitting primly.

The boy rocks back on his chair, eyes wide as he takes in the classroom. He catches sight of the unicorn horns on top of one of the bookshelves and starts frantically whispering and pointing to his friend.

Remus remembers being that young, that excited for every lesson. He gives the pair a warm smile.

Soon enough, the rest trickle in, picking seats and chattering excitedly with each other. Astoria enters with Raza, a dark-haired girl trailing behind them, and Astoria takes the two seats next to the Ravenclaws, leaving the dark-haired girl to sit in the row behind.

As soon as she sits down, she shakes her robes off, leaving her in a red sweater vest that Remus is sure isn’t standard issue, her sleeves rolled up and her wand stuck through her bun. Her tie isn’t where it ought to be, and instead, a light scarf is tied around her neck.

Remus isn’t sure what Sprout said about the flouting of uniform rules, but he’s not about to quash a student’s self-expression.

When Remus is sure that he’s not waiting on any others, he jumps off the desk and begins his lesson.

“It’s wonderful to see you all, and I hope you all had a lovely summer,” he starts. “I’m Professor Lupin, and I’ll be your defence professor this year.”

The charmed chalk behind him scrawls his name out on the blackboard.

“With me, your studies will be focused on magical creatures, and how to defend yourself against them. Therefore, a good deal of our lessons will be practical ones.”

Some students slump; some sit up straighter with excitement. Astoria, sitting in the front, frowns.

“Our first lesson is on boggarts. Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?”

Not one of them sticks their hand up. Remus smiles as genially as possible.

“That’s alright! Boggarts are shapeshifters, who take on the form of one’s worst fear. However, they’re easily conquered. Because a boggart’s magic is so focused on fear, the important task is to be fearless. The charm riddikulus can be used to transform a boggart into something funny, however it only works if you can imagine something funny first, and hold it clearly in your mind.”

He turns a little, so he’s directly facing Astoria. “However, magic isn’t necessary to defeat a boggart. They work by sensing your greatest fear, however, they often transform into what you fear most at the time. Can anyone tell me why that’s a useful thing to know?”

The Ravenclaw girl sticks her hand up. Remus crosses his fingers and hopes he’s got her name right. “Yes, Maisie?”

“You can trick them? If you pretend to fear something else?”

Remus smiles. “Exactly! Five points for Ravenclaw.”

She grins, and her friend nudges her into a fist-bump.

“If you can visualise a fear that is not necessarily yours, and conjure up feelings of genuine terror for it, you can trick a boggart.” He allows a few moments of contemplation. “Of course, if your boggart has a typical physical form, you can always forget magic completely and defend yourself the good old-fashioned way.”

The class laughs, and Remus grins back at them.

“Boggarts can only harm you so long as you allow yourself to be paralysed by fear. When you do not let your fear constrain you, you find you have plenty of options to defend yourself.”

The class seem nervous but excited, so Remus instructs them to retrieve their wands and follow him.

The staffroom isn’t as empty as he would have hoped, but McGonagall leaves without taking offence, and Sprout seems content to stay and observe.

The wardrobe rattles, and some of the students jump.

“No need to worry about the boggart, students,” Remus says, “I dare say it should be worried about you.”

He walks forwards, and cracks the wardrobe open. A slinking black shadow spills from the open doors, and forms into the pale orb of the moon.

Remus stares the moon in the face, not even bothering to draw his wand, and laughs.

The boggart becomes shadow again, squealing and sobbing, and Remus steps aside. “Your turn.”

The students form a line, Raza the very first, Maisie the very last. Astoria and Mattie are standing together in the middle, heads together as they whisper about something.

Raza steps forwards, and the boggart twists up into a crackling wall of fire.

“Riddikulus,” he says clearly, and the fire turns into streamers, which float gently down.

“Well done,” Remus says firmly, and Raza walks to the back of the line.

The next student fears dinosaurs, and successfully transforms the boggart into a tiny gecko. Then, a Ravenclaw fears ghosts, and turns the boggart into a sheet.

A Gryffindor fears the dark, and the room is plunged into darkness. Remus summons pale flames to his hand, and watches as the student screws up her face in concentration, until the boggart becomes a tall man, his face obscured by shadow, who stretches a hand out towards her.

“Riddikulus,” she manages to say, and the man becomes a clown.

“Five points for successfully tricking the boggart,” Remus says, and the girl’s face glows.

The next student’s fear is also a clown, though it look far more demented than the funny version. He transforms it into a Picasso painting, which hovers in the air.

It’s Mattie next, and Remus watches as he steps forwards with trepidation. The painting shakes and becomes a metal structure, shaped almost like a pepper pot, and what looks like a whisk and a plunger protruding from its midsection.

Roughly half of Remus’ students scream.

“Oh no,” Mattie whispers, and an eyestalk on the metal… thing… swivels round, pointing at Mattie.

“EXTERMINATE!”

Mattie screams, and desperately points his wand at it.

Just as a beam of light emerges from the whisk, Mattie’s wand makes a disturbing buzzing noise, and the metal thing’s eyestalk starts spinning around and around, the whisk and plunger shaking and popping out of their sockets.

The light hits Mattie, but nothing happens. He cracks one eye open, and checks down his body.

“I’m alive!” he yells, and laughs. The metal thing lets out a grating scream.

Mattie happily leaves the front of the line, leaving Astoria as the new head.

Mattie’s boggart stops screaming, and twists into a man. His hair is the same curly brown as Astoria’s, but his face holds none of the same vivid expression. He opens his mouth, as if he’s about to say something, but Astoria runs forwards.

“Take this!” she screeches, and kicks the boggart between the legs.

It cowers, and Astoria lets out a long laugh, leaving it whining and sans dignity.

“Who was that?” Remus asks mildly, and Astoria giggles.

“It was going to be my father telling me I needed to come home,” she informs him. “Well, I tricked it into being that, cause men are easy to take down.”

Remus grants her five points, and sends her to the back.

The dark-haired girl fears spiders, and she’s the only one for whom Remus has to step in and take the boggart on. She shivers, and Remus sends her to go stand with the others, giving her five points anyway for facing her fear.

Maisie is the last one to face the boggart, and she’s positively shaking when she’s left standing in front of it. The boggart twists into a new shape, and becomes a giant snake, striking towards her.

“Riddikulus!” Maisie shrieks, and the snake becomes a length of rope, which twists into a perfect circle.

“Good job, everyone!” Remus calls, picking up the rope, which begins to weakly flop about in his hands, and deposits it safely in the wardrobe. “You all did a brilliant job.”

Sprout claps from where she’s been sat the entire time, and the children beam with pride.

“It’s the end of the day,” he informs them, “go on. No homework from me.”

The students cheer, and stampede out of the staffroom, and Remus leans back against the wardrobe, filled with pride.

The next few days run mostly without incident. None of the children have much trouble with the boggart, and none of their fears are truly disturbing, with two notable exceptions.

When Remus has the Slytherin third years, he’s horrified to see that Daphne’s fear is a casket. The only saving grace of that lesson is that he and Daphne are the only two people close enough to see that the person lying in it is Astoria.

The other incident occurs during his lesson with the Gryffindor second years. Ginny, one of the infamous Weasleys, asks him if she can face the boggart alone, after class. He agrees, and it’s just the two of them and the boggart when he cracks the wardrobe open.

The man who steps out of the wardrobe gives her a chilling smile, and says “Hello, Ginny. It’s such a pleasure to see you again.”

Ginny handles herself admirably, transforming him into a simple book, and stepping on it with her foot.

“Professor?” she asks, and turns to him, smiling at her success. “Um, professor?”

Remus is fixed in place, staring at where the man was. It’s not appropriate at all for him to be having a panic attack while she’s still in the room, so he forces himself to smile and wave her off.

She leaves, and Remus allows himself to slide down onto the floor, holding his head in his hands as he shakes, and wonders how on earth someone born after Voldemort’s death can picture how he looked as a young adult so clearly.

Chapter Text

One day in the second week of term, Astoria wakes up and knows that it’s going to be a bad day.

She’s only had to go to the hospital wing twice. Both times, it’s been because she’s cast a spell and fainted, rather than because of any negative reaction to the magic around her. It’s far too early to draw conclusions, but Astoria’s pretty sure she’s developing a tolerance.

Or, she was sure. Now she’s pretty sure it’s just that her curse has been collecting ill-will to spring all on her at once.

Her limbs feel heavier than lead, and her head feels stuffed full of cotton wool. Her vision swims when she opens her eyes, and there’s a dull ache in her fingers and toes.

Her heart is tapping a frantic beat against her chest, and she can’t seem to catch her breath. Worse, she’s at once nauseous and hungry, which is the worst combination ever.

She stumbles out of bed, and the immediate head-rush means she just collapses right back onto her mattress. Romilda lets out a nasty laugh, and Astoria closes her eyes.

Romilda has very quickly gone from being an annoying hanger-on to a somewhat nasty rival. What she’s jealous of, Astoria has no clue, but Romilda can no longer stand to see Astoria happy.

She remembers Anya’s advice, and wishes there was something she could do to stop Romilda’s petty resentment, although can’t bring herself to think further on it.

Astoria gets up slower this time, and painstakingly gets to her feet, though she can’t feel them beneath her.

She’s planning on going straight to the hospital wing, but a cough from Romilda makes her turn around.

Where their other two roommates have gone, Astoria has no clue. Maybe they’re already at breakfast?

“Are you going to miss our first flying lesson?” Romilda asks, mock-sympathy dripping in her tone. Astoria did not know an eleven year old could sound so evil. “I’m so sorry for you. You were looking forwards to it, as well! Shall I tell Madam Hooch why you can’t be there?”

Knowing Romilda, the reason Astoria can’t be there will probably be ‘she wanted to skip’ rather than ‘her genuine medical condition stopped her from attending’.

Astoria will not have Madam Hooch thinking she’s a slacker, especially if she wants to get on the Gryffindor team as a reserve next year.

“Not to worry, I’ll be there,” Astoria promises Romilda in a hoarse voice. “Run along, Romilda.”

Romilda scowls, and slams the door of their dorm. Astoria slumps against the wall, trying to focus on her uniform through the black spots floating through her field of vision. She knows she’s making a stupid decision, that this is exactly what she promised her parents she wouldn’t do, that she’s just going to feel worse.

Regardless, she struggles into her uniform with fingers that refuse to cooperate. She can’t bring herself to dress up the way she usually does, instead she tugs on the biggest jumper she has, her thickest pair of tights, and wraps both her woollen Slytherin and Gryffindor scarves around her neck.

By the time she reaches the Great Hall, there are only a few stragglers still eating breakfast. That suits Astoria fine, as she isn’t in danger of one of her friends seeing the state of her and bundling her off to the hospital wing.

She has a twinge of guilt at the thought of Raza waiting up for her, the way he usually does, but it hurts her head to think too hard about anything, so she picks at a bowl of cereal in a daze, focusing on not throwing up.

A familiar head of red hair enters her eyeline, and Ginny slides into the seat next to her.

“Astoria, you look like hell,” she says flatly. “Go to the hospital wing.”

Astoria frowns, and tries to pick up her cereal spoon. Her hands are shaking, and her fingers refuse to close around the handle.

“Oh my God, this is painful to watch,” Ginny mutters. “Astoria, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to go to flying lessons,” Astoria says, throat scratchy. “I’m not skipping.”

Ginny sighs loudly and expressively, and takes off the quidditch jersey she’s drowning in to shove it over Astoria’s head, before wrestling her arms through the sleeves. “This is Charlie’s old jersey, so get it back to me when you’re feeling better, and don’t throw up on it.”

Astoria nods, but the motion sends her into another dizzy spell, and she has to sit still with her head in her hands before she thinks she has the strength to stand up.

It’s still early September, so Ginny isn’t at all out of place in just her shirt and trousers, but Astoria certainly is, in her massive jumper and two scarves.

Astoria gets to her feet, her stomach swooping, and Ginny catches her as she lists backwards.

“Astoria, why do you feel the need to be stupid,” Ginny mutters, as she steadies her with a hand on the small of her back.

Astoria takes a few steps, feeling returning to her feet as pins and needles shoot through them. She leans into the warmth and safety of Ginny’s side, and they walk together towards the quidditch pitch.

There’s barely a breeze, but Astoria is still shivering. Ginny presses a hand to her forehead, and Astoria laughs softly. “Checking my temperature, mother?”

“You are properly ill,” Ginny says insistently. “Do not get on a broom like this, you idiot.”

“I’m gonna,” Astoria says. “You can’t stop me.”

Ginny leads her further forwards, until they reach the group of first years huddled together in front of the entrance to the pitch. “I’m late for transfiguration, so I’m going to leave you here,” she says, holding Astoria in place. “If you fall off your broom, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Astoria nods, and clutches at the sudden pain in her head. “Thanks, Ginny.”

Ginny mutters something, and goes running off. Astoria begins to sway, until a pair of hands grab her shoulders and steady her.

“Astoria, you know Madam Hooch isn’t even going to let you on a broom while you’re one stiff breeze away from fainting?” Maisie’s imperious voice cuts through the fog in Astoria’s head, and the girl herself walks into view, swapping her hands so she can still hold Astoria up. “You’re an idiot.”

“So I’ve been told,” Astoria murmurs, trying to take deep breaths and failing miserably. “You’re intelligent. What’s a reasonable at-rest pulse for someone our age?”

Maisie purses her lips, and grabs Astoria’s wrist to take her pulse. She briefly closes her eyes, then fixes Astoria with a glare. “Like, half that.”

Astoria grins, giving her a shaky salute. “I am ready to fly, ma’am.”

Maisie shakes her head. “You’re so stupid. So stupid.”

They don’t have any more time for Maisie to try and convince Astoria to go to the hospital wing, because Madam Hooch comes stalking up the path, scattering first years.

“First years, fetch your brooms!” she calls, and there’s a mad rush to grab the best broom from the school cupboard. Before Astoria can think of moving, Mattie rushes up to her and Maisie, three brooms in his arms.

“Romilda told me these were good ones,” he reports, and Astoria doesn’t have the heart to tell him that that means he probably has the slowest brooms the school owns.

“Right! Through here, everyone,” Hooch shouts, and they all follow her like ducklings, Maisie guiding Astoria.

“Line up and place your brooms on the ground,” Hooch orders, and Astoria allows herself to be corralled by Maisie. When she stops getting shoved about, Astoria drops her broom, and stares in misery up at the sky.

“When you’re ready, shout up!”

The sound of forty-odd eleven year olds shouting Up! all at once is enough to make Astoria whimper and clap her hands over her ears. It doesn’t help the stabbing pain in her head, but it does draw the eye of Raza, standing across from her and a little ways down next to a boy with an awkward bowl cut.

He mouths something at her, but she can’t tell what. Everyone’s stopped shouting, so she reaches down, and commands her broom.

It jumps into her hand, even though she didn’t scream the word like all of the muggleborns. Astoria has always been good with brooms.

“Mount the broom - carefully - and kick off on the count of three,” Hooch instructs, and Astoria swings her leg over the broom, holding the handle as tightly as she can manage.

“One - two - three!”

Astoria kicks off, the weightless feeling residing in her stomach instantly taking the rest of her. Her vision fuzzes, and she tips sideways, tumbling off her broom.

She had only risen two or three metres, so she’s stunned as she lies flat on her back on the ground, rather than in agony. There’s an immediate commotion, and Astoria passes out.

When she opens her eyes, it’s to the now-familiar view from what she’s deeming her bed in the hospital wing. There’s no-one in her current field of vision, so she struggles to sit up, her head spinning.

There is, however, a distinct lack of pain in her head, and as she wriggles her fingers and toes, she realises she’s feeling much better.

Astoria is sure there must be monitoring charms on the hospital wing, because Madame Pomfrey comes bustling in not ten seconds after Astoria’s woken up.

“Miss Greengrass,” she says hotly, “you are the most wilful, thick-headed patient I have ever had to treat, and Mr Potter frequently lands in my hospital wing.”

Astoria’s gaze flicks over to the other reserved bed. Hers is decorated with small, floating balls of witchlight, and photos of her family standing to attention on the table next to her. The bed opposite hers, in contrast, has a model snitch asleep on the table and a few Polaroids scattered next to it.

“Sorry,” she says quietly, rolling her shoulders. “Did I miss my potions lesson?”

“Yes,” Madame Pomfrey sighs. “But as you have a medical exemption, you will not be in trouble for missing that particular lesson.”

“I get the feeling I’m still in trouble,” Astoria quips, rubbing her fingers against the soft material of the quidditch jersey. Though she’s in the pyjamas she always ends up in when she’s in the hospital wing, someone’s been kind enough to let her keep wearing Ginny’s jumper.

“Detention with McGonagall, for ignoring the signs of your ill-health, general foolhardiness, and endangering yourself.”

Astoria winces. Detention in the second week of term has to be a record.

“Not to worry, I’ll be there with you,” comes Ginny’s voice, as she strides into the hospital wing. “I skipped transfiguration to tell Madame Pomfrey to expect you, so McGonagall’s on the warpath.”

Astoria giggles. “Thank you for letting me borrow your jumper,” she says. “I might have got grass stains on it, though.”

Ginny shrugs. “Charlie’s done worse to it.” She perches on the end of Astoria’s bed, grinning up at Madame Pomfrey. “Aren’t you glad I’m only here visiting?”

Pomfrey tuts, and checks Ginny’s temperature anyway. “You were ill far too often last year, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny bats her hand away, sighing. “And this year I’m not going to be.”

Astoria smiles. “So how long am I going to be in here for?”

“Today and tomorrow,” Pomfrey says, sniffing. “To ensure you didn’t do serious damage to yourself, and to give your body an opportunity to recover from being stressed so severely.”

Missing tomorrow means missing defence, another potions lesson, and charms, which is her worst subject already. Astoria sighs.

“And then we’ve got detention together, as soon as you’re out,” Ginny informs her. “I swear, it’s like a police state here.”

“Can’t even attend lessons without getting punished for it.” Astoria shakes her head. “It’s like they don’t want us to learn.”

Ginny cocks her head, as if listening to some far-away noise, and checks her watch. “Ah. I’d better escape before I get stampeded by your little horde of eleven year olds.”

“You’re only twelve,” Astoria complains. “Go on, get out of here.”

Ginny waves, and scarpers, making her escape just before Astoria’s friends come crashing in.

“We thought you’d died!” Leo screeches, jumping onto her bed. “What on earth happened?”

“You are such an idiot,” Maisie says with satisfaction. “And I’d like the record to show that I told you so.”

“Flying was awful,” Mattie complains, “I hate brooms.”

“One at a time!” Astoria insists, and they fall quiet. “Hey Raza, were you trying to tell me something?”

Raza shakes his head. “Just ask if you were feeling alright.”

Astoria snickers. “Yeah, no, sorry.”

“Why were you flying?” Leo asks. “You looked awful, you should have been here.”

“Romilda,” Astoria mutters.

“Sorry, what was that?” Maisie asks sharply. “For a minute I could have sworn you said Romilda.”

“She was teasing me about not being able to make the flying lesson when I’d been looking forwards to it!” Astoria bursts out. “Okay? And I wanted to prove her wrong.”

Mattie pats her arm. “You failed.”

Pomfrey sticks her head round, tutting at the number of visitors. “Miss Greengrass, is that true?”

Astoria looks blankly at her. “Yes. Romilda just doesn’t like me.”

Pomfrey shakes her head. “In which case, Miss Vane will also be serving a detention of her own.”

Leo cheers, and Mattie wraps Astoria up in a hug. Beaming, she doesn’t feel ill at all.

Chapter Text

Her required stay in the hospital wing flies by, and Snape isn’t even too cruel about giving her the catch-up work.

Flitwick, on the other hand, has to gently explain how far she’s falling behind in charms. It’s embarrassing, and Astoria promises him she’ll find someone to tutor her.

His suggestion is Hermione Granger, two years above her, and Astoria remembers that was who Daphne suggested as well.

She holds off on asking the older girl until her detention is over, though, and she’s on her way to McGonagall’s classroom when she’s accosted by two identical gingers.

She recognises Fred and George by their relation to Ginny, and by their reputation. Ant and Anya have told her enough that she knows to be wary of them.

“Good evening,” she says, nervous.

“Good evening,” one of them says.

“Miss Greengrass.”

“We heard-”

“-that you got our little sister in detention,” they finish.

Astoria bites her lip. “I mean, I suppose, technically it was my fault?”

It wasn’t as if she asked Ginny to skip her lesson for her, but it was because of her that Ginny did it.

The twins loom over her, managing to look far more menacing than their reputation as pranksters would suggest.

“In which case-”

“-we feel the need to warn you.”

“You see-”

“-if we feel you’re corrupting Ginny-”

“-in any way at all-”

“-you’re dead,” one of them promises, the other nodding fervently.

Astoria is about to drop dead anyway of terror, when she hears Ginny’s familiar “Oi!”

The twins look up, identical grins breaking out on their faces.

“Ginny!”

“We were just-”

“-defending your honour,” they insist. Ginny comes to a stop next to Astoria, arms crossed.

“Astoria’s my friend,” she says firmly. “Don’t you have a detention of your own to get to?”

They acquiesce, and stroll off, giving the two girls identical waves. Astoria breathes a sigh of relief, and Ginny laughs.

“Don’t mind them, really. All my brothers are just stupidly protective.” Astoria nods, eyes still wide, and Ginny squeezes her hand. “Come on, McGonagall will be waiting.”

When they get there, instead of McGonagall looking stern in the front of the classroom, it’s Professor Lupin trying to maintain a serious face.

“Girls, I have to say I’m very disappointed,” he attempts. “Ginny, skipping class! And transfiguration no less! And Astoria - ignoring your health just so you can get on a broom? It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

“You interrupt every lesson with anecdotes about your school days,” Ginny says. “McGonagall gave you and your friends more detentions than the rest of Gryffindor combined in your seventh year.”

Lupin flushes, smiling. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you all that, if you were going to take it to heart.”

Ginny grins, and sits down on top of one of the desks. “So what does McGonagall want you to get us to do?”

“Lines,” Lupin says apologetically. “Which is really the least offensive punishment she could have given. My friend James did almost exactly the same thing as you once, Astoria, went to quidditch practice while he was developing a fever and fell off his broom, and she made him scrub cauldrons.”

Astoria giggles.

Lupin turns and taps the blackboard with his wand, and the chalk jumps up and scribbles out the words, ‘I will take my education/health seriously’.

“Evidently, it’s one for Ginny, one for Astoria,” he says. “I’m sure that’s obvious.”

“I was taking my education seriously,” Astoria says, “but I’m sure I could put more effort into it.”

“And if I need a mental health day, I really shouldn’t be in lessons,” Ginny shakes her head, “these are good maxims to live by.”

Lupin hides a smile, and summons parchment and ink for them. “Get started. So long as you’ve done three pages of it or it’s been half an hour, I’ll let you go.”

Ginny looks up at him, confused. “Three pages? You’re not going to say how many lines?”

Lupin tilts his head. “Do you want me to?”

Ginny shakes her head fervently. “No! This is fine!”

Astoria watches as Ginny sits down properly, and writes out ‘I will take my health seriously’ in the biggest handwriting she’s ever seen. The single sentence takes up half the page.

“Oh, I see,” she says to herself, and begins.

She takes the opportunity to practise her best calligraphy, and within a few minutes, she has six lines of ‘I will take my education seriously’, filling three pages, and all with tiny flowers and stars doodled over the margins.

Lupin watches over their shoulders, and when he sees that they’re done, he collects the papers, inspecting them carefully.

Ginny does her best to turn her laugh into a cough when he looks at her suspiciously.

“Well,” he says, drawing out the word. “You’ve each given me three pages of the lines I asked for, so I think your detention is over. I sincerely hope you’ve learnt your lessons.”

Astoria nods eagerly, and Lupin smiles at the two of them. “Astoria, are you feeling any better?”

“Much,” she replies, “thank you.”

Lupin nods. “In which case, would you allow me to suggest you take this opportunity to catch up on your flying lesson?”

Astoria brightens, and claps her hands. “That’s a brilliant idea!”

“The quidditch season hasn’t started yet,” Ginny says, “so the pitch should be empty. Do you want to go find your friends?”

Astoria nods, and Ginny grins back at her. “I’ll go find my brothers, if you want a real lesson.”

Astoria runs off to locate Raza and Leo, the only two she thinks will appreciate more flying, and when they reach the quidditch pitch, Ginny is already there, flanked by Fred and George, and holding enough brooms for all of them in her arms.

“Your first lesson-” one of the twins starts.

“-is on speed.”

“The three of you are going to start at one end of the pitch-”

“-and whoever gets to the other end first-”

“-wins the first round,” one of them finishes, eyes glittering.

“And what makes you think these firsties have a chance against me?” Ginny asks, her ponytail whipping about in the wind.

“You’re only a year older than them?” One of the twins suggests, wilting under Ginny’s glare. “Go easy on them, then.”

Even with Ginny apparently going easy on them, Astoria, Leo and Raza trail behind her in the speed tests the twins put them through. Ginny comes out victorious every time, cheeks flushed and smile wide, and the three of them are forced through laps by the twins to make up for their failure.

Eventually, the twins decide that their chasing skills need to be improved, so they set up a game of catch. Astoria’s the worst at it - she can bat the ball away from her, but she has no accuracy with passing properly to the others. Leo, on the other hand, is a natural, and quickly learns to stop passing to Astoria if he wants the ball to stay in play.

Raza is somewhat nicer about it, but he struggles to catch the ball when it’s tossed towards him, so Astoria takes to attempting to chuck the ball at Ginny, who can dart around in the air and display her truly incredible skills at diving and racing after the ball.

Fred and George decide to hold a small-scale game, with Raza and Astoria in goal, one twin apiece as general distractions, and Ginny and Leo facing off as chasers against each other.

Astoria’s on Leo’s team, which means the first time Ginny comes hurtling up the pitch, quaffle in her arms and steel in her eyes, she fails miserably to stop Ginny from scoring.

One of the twins jeers, but Astoria flies down to rescue the quaffle, and hurls it into the middle of the pitch, hoping that Leo can grab it.

Raza’s an average keeper, but Astoria manages to block most of Ginny’s attempts at scoring. Not all of them, because she’s not brilliant and Ginny certainly is, but enough to earn back the twins’ respect, and to frustrate Ginny.

Before too long, the sun dips behind the high hills around Hogwarts, and the twins call for the end of the game.

“Ginny and I won,” one of them brags.

“Although the babies weren’t as bad as I was expecting,” the other one contemplates.

“Not good enough for Wood-”

“-but not too bad, either.”

They wave goodbye to Leo at the first set of staircases, and troop up to Gryffindor tower together, flushed from the cool September air, all tired out but happy.

Unfortunately, there’s a tense energy in the common room, with Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley at loggerheads in the middle of it.

“All cats chase rats, Ron!” Hermione is insisting, and Astoria edges away from the argument, dragging Raza with her.

“Are your dormmates in?” she hisses at him, and he shakes his head. Nodding her head decisively, she darts up the stairs with him, and flops down on his bed. “Oh, your dorm is messy.”

“Boys aren’t tidy,” Raza remarks dryly, and digs out a book from his trunk.

“Oh, no, don’t,” Astoria moans, “I wanted to relax, not study.”

Raza gives her an impressively scathing sideways glare. Astoria sticks her tongue out. “You’re eleven! How do you actually have a work ethic?”

“You’re failing charms,” Raza says, sidestepping the question. “Want me to help?”

Astoria sighs dramatically, but sits up. “Yes. Desperately. Listen, Raza, I ought to explain-”

“Doing magic makes you ill,” he says simply. “I figured it out. Start with wingardium leviosa.”

Astoria huffs, but demonstrates the wand movement. “Levitation charm, invented by an unknown spellcrafter probably in the fifteen hundreds, although other, less effective levitation charms were already in use by then. You need to swish-” she swishes her wand “-and flick.”

Raza nods, and pulls his own wand from his pocket. “Wingardium leviosa.”

His heavy charms book rises easily into the air, hovers for a moment, and falls gently at the direction of his wand.

Raza directs a pointed look at Astoria, who groans. “Wingardium leviosa.”

The book twitches, but stays where it is. Astoria’s fingers freeze up, and she sticks her hands in her jumper to attempt to direct circulation back towards them.

“You need intent,” Raza states. “Again.”

Astoria rolls her eyes, but she knows he’s right. Of the pillars of magic, willpower or intent is the one she’s sorely lacking in charms. “Wingardium leviosa,” she tries, focusing as hard as she can.

The book drifts upwards, listing slightly to the side, before dropping back down onto the bed. Astoria whoops, and retrieves a handkerchief from her pocket to press to the nosebleed she can feel starting.

“Good job,” Raza says.

“Thanks for your help,” Astoria says through the handkerchief. “I really don’t want to fail charms. Flitwick’s the nicest there is.”

Raza raises an eyebrow, and Astoria sighs.

“Yes, I know. Lupin is, of course, nicer. I just mean I don’t want to let Flitwick down! Defence is easy, cause Lupin just lets me kick whatever creature we’re dealing with, and gives me points for it.”

Raza drums his fingers on the book, and smiles. “Can’t kick a book.”

“I could!” Astoria declares, offended. “I feel as though that would get the book higher in the air than with my levitation charm.”

Raza laughs, and Astoria grins, though he can’t see.

“Okay, Raza, can you help me clean up my nose?”

“No.”

“Raza! I’m going to bleed all over your bed sheets!”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Yes, okay, they’re red anyway, but it’s the principle of the thing!”

Chapter Text

Weeks pass, and Astoria settles into life at Hogwarts. She’s still falling behind in charms, but her marks in herbology and defence more than make up for it.

There have been a few more days she’s had to spend in the hospital wing, and rumours have started buzzing about their year about her ‘mysterious disease’. Astoria just grins and bears it, but she knows Mattie’s lost some house points by picking fights with people on her behalf.

Mattie’s an unholy terror in potions. He seems to be the only one in their class that actually understands what he’s doing, but his technique seems to lean far more towards experimentation than following instructions. He’s brilliant, but he annoys Snape to no end.

Lupin, on the other hand, has swiftly become everyone’s favourite professor - especially Astoria, as he most often presents the class with non-magical means of defence, even when there is also a magical method.

Unfortunately, Astoria’s relationship with Romilda has broken down even further. She’s become downright nasty, and taken to stealing Astoria’s things when she spends the night in the hospital wing.

It’s one of those mornings, and when Astoria wakes up, she can’t find her hairbrush.

“Romilda, have you seen my hairbrush?” she asks as sweetly as possible, but Romilda just ignores her and leaves.

Astoria sighs. She does her best to finger-comb her hair, but it’s painfully tangled, and eventually she has to admit defeat and go down into the common room, with her hair clipped back into a frizzy mess.

Raza’s taken aback at the sight of her, and sighs.

“Ask a friend to do your hair,” he suggests. It’s a Saturday, so it’s not as if Astoria has anywhere to go. She takes him with her as she heads down the ridiculously many staircases to the dungeon, hoping that no one sees her.

Eventually, the two of them reach the blank strip of wall Astoria is fairly sure hides the Slytherin common room.

“There’s no portrait to give the password to,” Astoria explains to Raza, “you just have to tell the wall. Now, I think this is what Daphne said it was…”

She steels herself, eyeing the wall suspiciously. “Deadly nightshade.”

There’s a rumbling from the wall, and the stones melt away, revealing a cosy yet elegant sitting room.

Astoria feels slightly out of place, in her muggle football jersey, but luckily she spots Daphne before anyone has a chance to call her and Raza out for not being Gryffindors.

Daphne’s coming into the common room from a small corridor, with Pansy a step behind her, and Astoria comes up to her, sighing dramatically.

“It’s a disaster, Daph. Romilda Vane stole my hairbrush, and I can’t go out like this,” she insists. Daphne gives her a flat look, but Pansy pushes past her, hands on her hips.

“You’re Astoria, then?” she asks, a little condescendingly. Astoria raises her eyebrows, standing tall.

“And you are?”

Pansy sputters a little, but Daphne laughs quietly from behind her, and she shakes her head. “You’re right, that hair is a disaster. Come on, let’s see what we can do.”

Astoria looks back, biting her lip. “Raza, you’re interested in ancient runes, right?”

He nods, and Daphne walks forwards, head tilted in interest. “I have a first edition Compendium of Cuneiform, if you want to see?”

Having sorted that out, Astoria follows Pansy to her dormitory, and sits down daintily on the stool in front of the vanity.

“I’m incredibly jealous,” she comments, “I share my dorm with three other girls, and our bathroom only has one mirror.”

Pansy presses a hand to her heart in genuine horror. “Darling, you can come down here any time, and I am more than willing to sort out you and your friends’ hair.”

“I heard from Ginny that Cedric Diggory is single,” Astoria says in payment, and Pansy smiles, in a rather sharklike manner.

Pansy works miracles, and soon enough, Astoria’s curls are bouncing on the top of her shoulders, her hair kept away from her face with a half bun, and her golden pin is glittering in the low light.

Raza whistles, which earns him a friendly slap from Astoria. “You’ve seen me look nicer!”

He shrugs, and grins. “Breakfast?”

Astoria sniffs, but takes his arm. “Have a good day in Hogsmeade,” she calls behind her as she leaves Daphne and Pansy, feeling only a twinge of jealousy. They’ll get their turn in third year, and hopefully, there won’t be dementors to spoil her weekends.

Besides, she did have plans to go flying. It’s possible she’ll have to delay those, as it wouldn’t do to ruin her lovely hairstyle with twenty mile an hour winds.

Raza and Astoria sit with Leo at the Hufflepuff table, avoiding where Romilda’s holding court for the other Gryffindor first years, and further up the table where Harry Potter is exuding an aura of misery.

Astoria knocks back her daily potions regimen, gulping down pumpkin juice to try and wash away the taste. “What’s up with Potter?” she asks, and Hannah leans over from where she’s been attempting to correct Leo’s homework.

“Apparently he didn’t get his Hogsmeade form signed,” she says sympathetically. “And of course everyone in our year is going, so he’ll be awfully lonely.”

Astoria purses her lips, looking over again. “He has plenty of friends, though. I mean, he’s on the quidditch team, and he’s Harry Potter. He’s popular.”

Hannah sighs. “I mean, if he’s bored he can attend Colin Creevey’s weekly Potter fan club meeting, but I’m sure he’d rather be with Ron and Hermione.”

Astoria wrinkles her nose at the mention of Creevey. He’s in Ginny’s year, and his energy levels are frankly ridiculous. She’s only interacted with the boy twice, and both times she’s left feeling as if she’s stuck on half speed next to him.

“Will you bring me sweets from Honeydukes?” Leo implores Hannah, abandoning his astronomy essay. “Chocolate frogs please?”

Hannah laughs. “Maybe!”

Astoria shoots a subtle glance over to the Slytherin table, where Pansy and Daphne have made an appearance and are chatting quietly while Daphne picks at a croissant. “Think Daph will bring me anything?”

“I suspect she’ll spend most of her pocket money on quills in Scrivenshafts,” Hannah says, “or in the Hogsmeade branch of Flourish and Blotts.”

Astoria groans. “She would rather have books than ice mice,” she complains to Raza.

He just stares at her. “Same.”

“I’m surrounded by nerds and I’m not even at the Ravenclaw table!”

Hannah pats Astoria’s shoulder absentmindedly, squinting at the parchment Leo’s dropped on the table. “Leo, did you say that the effects of the full moon were that… werewolves come out?”

Leo reddens. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“I think Professor Sinistra wants astronomical effects, like that the Orionids will be harder to see because of the moonshine,” Hannah says gently. Leo sighs and tucks the half-finished essay in his robe pocket.

“Oh, it is a full moon tonight, isn’t it?” Astoria remarks in surprise. “I’d forgotten, I did that essay days ago.”

“No need to rub it in,” Leo grumbles.

“It’s only due on Monday, you’re fine,” Astoria rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I just meant - that’s odd, isn’t it? A full moon on Halloween. Hannah, you take divination, don’t you?”

Hannah nods. “Divination, care and runes. You’re right, it’s supposedly an omen, but I don’t really hold much stock in divination.”

“Daphne says it’s a very imprecise branch of magic,” Astoria nods sagely. “Hey, where’s Professor Lupin?”

“Oh - over there,” Hannah says, gesturing vaguely. “Oh dear, is that what we’ll be studying next?”

Professor Lupin’s standing over by the entrance hall, as far away from Filch as possible, and signing for a large crate, which he picks up with ease.

Astoria squints, but she can’t tell what’s inside it. “What is it?”

“Well, grindylows are next on the syllabus,” Hannah says despondently. “I really don’t like grindylows.”

Astoria snickers. “I wonder if they take well to being kicked.”

Raza laughs, and flicks her forehead. “You kick everything.”

“It’s a good defence!” she insists. “Magic is overused, in my opinion.”

“Grindylows can have a nasty bite,” Hannah says, nervously. “I hope he’ll let us do the practical in pairs.”

Raza taps Astoria to draw her attention, and grabs a bread roll from the bowl in the middle of the table. “Eat something.”

Astoria sighs, but accepts the roll, nibbling at the edge of it. “What do you want to do today?”

“I have to finish my homework,” Leo whines, “don’t have fun without me.”

“Maisie and Mattie are bothering Professor Snape,” Astoria muses, “we could head to the greenhouses, I suppose, and see if we can do anything for Professor Sprout.”

“Charms,” Raza says quietly, and Astoria groans loudly.

“No, you had to bring it up,” she complains. “I don’t want to! It’s a Saturday! I shouldn’t have to!”

“Wait, we had charms homework?” Leo asks, a gleam of panic in his eyes.

Astoria shakes her head. “No, I just need to practice.”

When she finishes her roll, she allows Raza to drag her to the library, and they spend a few unfruitful hours practising the incendio charm.

Astoria manages to produce a puff of smoke and gives herself a headache, but even when they get back to practising after lunch, she can’t get any further.

Partly, it’s probably because Astoria refuses to focus, choosing instead to drape herself dramatically over library chairs and fan herself with the scratch parchment she’s been using to take notes.

Eventually, Raza gives up, and the pair of them make their way to the Great Hall for the feast, joining up with the other Gryffindors in first and second year.

The feast is good - the amount of sugary goods Astoria consumes is possibly not recommended for someone of her size, but she’s not the only one eating twice her body weight in treacle tarts, so she figures everyone will be in the same boat come morning.

Fred and George attempt to initiate a food fight, though no-one really joins in, stuffed and sated by the brilliant food. The ghosts do put on a good show - Nick gets the Baron to act the part of his executioner, and the ribald jokes have everyone in stitches.

It’s only when they’re drifting upstairs, happy and tired, that Astoria recalls that she only saw Professor Lupin in the first half of the feast.

He must have slipped out at some point, though she can’t think when.

She’s still pondering the mystery when they bump into a blockade of students.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asks, but no one provides her with an answer.

A moment later, Dumbledore sweeps past, staring as the Gryffindors part to let him through. Astoria cranes her neck, catching sight of the mutilated canvas that normally houses the Fat Lady.

“Someone slashed the Fat Lady’s portrait,” she whispers to Raza, straining to hear what Dumbledore’s saying. “Oh, my God. It was Sirius Black!”

Ginny spins round to look at her, face ashen. “Do you think he was here for Harry?”

Astoria shrugs helplessly, watching as Flitwick and McGonagall hurry off. “What are we supposed to do now?”

Dumbledore leads them all to the Great Hall, and soon enough the entire school is there - half of them still dressed, half of them already in pyjamas.

“I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge.”

Dumbledore’s announcement is met with whispering and frantic chatter from the entire hall. When he conjures the sleeping bags, Astoria has to giggle at the faces of some of the older students.

“I think purple sleeping bags are a little juvenile,” she whispers to Raza, “but you have to admire Dumbledore’s style.”

The two of them quickly grab sleeping bags and clear a little space around where the long tables are stacked, waiting for the others to find them. Leo waves from where he’s already situated next to Hannah, but Mattie and Maisie come scurrying over, with Ginny and another Ravenclaw in tow.

“This is Luna,” Ginny explains. “We’ve been friends for years. She’s helping Mattie with his potions.”

“The pursuit of experimentation is often disdained,” Luna says airily, her eyes twinkling in the same way as Dumbledore’s. “I think Professor Snape often forgets its value.”

“Let’s push our sleeping bags together,” Astoria says, “that way we can keep talking after lights out.”

Mattie insists on crawling into his sleeping bag and wriggling fully underneath the long table, the whites of his eyes glinting from his dark hiding spot. Maisie sighs, and pushes hers next to him. The three Ravenclaws are already dressed for bed, but none of the Gryffindors had even made it into the common room.

Astoria wiggles out of her skirt and tugs her football jumper down to get as comfortable as possible, and pushes her sleeping bag next to Raza. “Don’t worry, there’s no way Sirius Black can get past Dumbledore.”

“I’m not worried,” he says. “Are you?”

“Of course not,” Astoria lies, sitting up for a minute to scan the hall for Harry Potter. “Hogwarts is the safest place in Britain.”

Chapter Text

After the fuss over Sirius Black’s break-in dies down, the gravity of real lessons sinks in, and Astoria has to confront the reality that she’s not getting any better at charms.

With transfiguration, learning the theory helps her with the practical component, but charms continue to elude her. Flitwick is so cheerful about it, is the worst thing - he tries to make her feel better when she inevitably fails, but she just gets more and more frustrated with herself.

It’s when the entire class but Astoria have managed to master the locking charm, that she finally cracks over it.

“Professor, may I be excused from today’s practical component?” she asks quietly, and Flitwick nods, giving her a sympathetic smile.

Astoria gathers her things and slips out of the classroom, cheeks hot with embarrassment, unable to meet Raza or Leo’s eye. She’s feeling faint and has a headache, but it’s not so bad that she needs to go to the hospital wing.

Instead, she wanders the corridors, despondent and feeling useless.

What good is a witch who can’t manage the simplest of spells? It’s a locking charm, it’s not exactly complicated. Every Gryffindor and Hufflepuff first year managed to cast the charm except her.

She doesn’t have a destination in mind, just wants to get away from the source of her shame. Flitwick probably expects her to go to the hospital wing - probably expects that she excused herself because she was feeling unwell, not because she was upset - but it’s the last place she wants to go.

Astoria doesn’t want any reminder of failure, and her eternal sickbed isn’t exactly an uplifting sight.

She does her best to stick to corridors she recognises, but soon enough she’s lost. She leans against the wall, staring bleakly at a map of- Argyllshire, according to the writing along the edge.

She’s been inspecting the tiny writing for a few minutes before a head pops into the frame, sending Astoria jumping out of her skin.

“Sorry to startle you!” the Fat Lady calls cheerfully, winking down at her. “How are you, lovely? How’s the Tower without me?”

A wistful look comes over her face, and Astoria hides a giggle. “Our new guard portrait is a real disappointment, especially after you.”

The Fat Lady beams with pride, her eyes gleaming. “You flatter me, lovely. So tell me what you’re up to? Me, I’m whiling away the hours until my portrait is repaired… I’ve been practising my singing, do you want to hear?”

Astoria’s heard some of the Fat Lady’s singing before, so she politely excuses herself, and does her best to retrace her steps. It only takes one secret passage and a trip through the vanishing step for Astoria to find herself in the general vicinity of the defence classroom.

She sneaks a peek, craning her head round the doorframe, but there’s no lesson going on, just Lupin sitting cross-legged on his desk, a book open on his lap.

He looks ill, and there’s an ashy pallor to his skin that Astoria recognises all too well. She’s about to walk away and not bother him when he calls out without looking up.

“Do you want to come in?” He even sounds tired, and Astoria tiptoes in, trying not to make too much noise in case he’s got a migraine.

“Only if I’m not going to be a bother,” she says, and he looks up, smiling.

“Nonsense,” he insists. “Can I get you anything? Cup of tea, biscuit?”

Astoria tries to hide the way she perks up, but from Lupin’s tired laugh, she supposes she doesn’t succeed. “That sounds lovely, professor.”

Lupin leads her into his office, and Astoria kicks off her shoes and curls up in the chair, warming her hands around a mug of tea. Lupin drops an open pack of ibuprofen on the table, and Astoria gratefully takes one, swallowing it down with a gulp of tea.

“Biscuits,” he announces, retrieving a tin of custard creams from a drawer. “And then you can tell me about it.”

Astoria shifts in her seat, and takes a custard cream, avoiding making eye contact.

“What makes you think there’s something to tell?” she eventually says, dusting her hands off on her skirt. “I could be perfectly alright.”

Lupin quirks one eyebrow. “I’m sure that if you were perfectly alright, you’d be in the company of your friends,” he pushes gently. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but then I’ll have to let Professor McGonagall know that there’s something wrong with one of her Gryffindors.”

Astoria sighs as dramatically as she can, slumping. Damn those emotionally intelligent professors. She wouldn’t have this problem if Snape were her head of house.

“I’m failing charms,” she finds herself whining, after half the cup of tea is gone and so have another three custard creams. “It’s not even that I can’t do it because of the curse, although that does make practising hard. It’s just that I’m not good at it!”

Lupin hums encouragingly, and Astoria downs her cup of tea, setting the mug on the desk firmly. “And it’s not like it’s hard stuff! I’ve researched the theory extensively, it’s just that somehow I can’t seem to manage something as simple as a locking charm.”

Astoria takes another biscuit, chewing angrily. Lupin nods, sipping slowly at his own mug of tea.

“What kind of witch am I if this is the best incendio I can do?” Astoria asks bitterly, attempting the charm. One lone spark jumps off the tip of her wand, smouldering on the page of an open book. “Whoops, sorry.”

Lupin waves his wand and the page is spotless once again. Astoria sighs, the tension draining from her shoulders. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this while you’re not well.”

“You can always come to me, Astoria, or any teacher,” Lupin says strongly. Admittedly, some of the colour has come back to his face. Astoria has no doubt that it was the caffeine. “It sounds like you’re struggling with putting your theory into practice.”

“It’s exactly that,” Astoria declares.

“Then it’s something you can fix,” Lupin says. “Do you know how many students I’ve seen who are incredibly book-smart, but have no way of actually performing half the spells they could rattle on about?”

Astoria shakes her head, feeling small.

“None,” Lupin says. “Because I’ve seen lots of first years with that problem, but all the upper years I’ve seen know just what to do. Astoria, I was just like that in my first year.”

Astoria perks up, sneaking another biscuit. “Really?”

“Really,” Lupin says warmly. “And I know quite a few upper years in Gryffindor who’ve had the same problem that you could ask for tutoring.”

“I’ve been recommended Hermione Granger,” Astoria admits. “I suppose I didn’t want to go to her because, well…”

“You didn’t want to let on that you were struggling with something?” Lupin asks with a smile. “I’m sure Hermione was just the same in her first year. Why don’t you ask her about tutoring next time you see her?”

Astoria nods, nibbling on her biscuit. “Do you want me to go now?”

Lupin raises his eyebrows. “Why would you think that?”

“Well, you sort of solved my problem,” Astoria laughs. “So I should probably leave you in peace now.”

“You’ve hardly made it through half of my biscuit stash,” Lupin says with feigned confusion. “How could you leave me alone with all of this to eat by myself?”

Astoria giggles. “Maybe you could tell me about what we’re doing in defence next week?”

Lupin just taps at the side of his nose.

“That’s just unfair,” Astoria sighs. “But I suppose I could keep you entertained, even if you won’t give me tips.”

She tells him all about how Mattie and Luna have been working on an improved version of the cure for boils - “Apparently it’s something about a silver basin in moonlight? I really don’t understand Mattie sometimes, and throwing Luna into the mix just makes it even more incomprehensible” - about the boy in her herbology class who has to polish his oddly thick glasses lenses every five minutes - and about how Maisie’s been protesting at every flying lesson that forcing her onto a broom is against child protection laws.

“I don’t know why she’s so adamantly against flying! It’s fun. It’s basically football but in the air.”

“And does Maisie like football?”

“No! I swear, I don’t understand that girl at all.”

When she starts breathlessly explaining how Raza’s doing his best to figure out how McGonagall became an Animagus, Lupin stiffens, and refuses to make eye contact.

Astoria slows down, and stops talking, fixing him with a glare. “Professor Lupin, what do you know?”

“In general?” He quips, grinning. “Quite a lot, considering I’m your teacher.”

“About being an Animagus,” Astoria insists. “You know something.”

Lupin refuses to meet her eye, whistling, and still grinning. Astoria huffs, crossing her arms.

“This is duplicitous and I’d like to file a request for information under the Freedom of Information Act.”

“If I give you two a pass for the Restricted Section to look up Animagi, will you stop bothering me? Hypothetically, the books you need might be in the second shelf from the top in the bookcase on the far left, three rows from the back wall.”

Astoria squints at him, and takes another biscuit to help her think. “I suppose that would be a fair trade.”

Lupin takes a blank pass from his desk and scribbles his signature on it, looking put-upon. “McGonagall can never know.”

“You’re an awful negotiator,” Astoria informs him, “and Raza will probably leave it until he’s better at transfiguration, anyway. It would be a mad thing for anyone still in Hogwarts to attempt.”

Lupin wilts under her piercing gaze, and gives her the slip. “Have you well and truly spoiled your dinner?”

“Yes,” Astoria sighs. “All your biscuits are gone, it’s a tragedy.”

“Go find Maisie and see if she’ll get on a broom if you ask nicely.”

Astoria flounces off, waving her new pass in the air as she leaves. Lupin is the best teacher in the entire school, possibly in the entire country.

She stops off in the Gryffindor common room to deposit her pass in a safe place - Raza’s pocket, naturally - and stops short when she spots Hermione Granger, head buried in a book. Ron Weasley - Ginny’s brother - and Harry Potter are sitting on the same sofa, but they’re not doing work - instead, they’re playing wizard chess.

Astoria has no clue how to approach them without looking like a rabid fangirl or a stupid kid. Raza’s watching her silently, and Astoria can feel his judgement like a weight on her back.

“Yes, okay,” she whispers to him, “but that’s Hermione Granger. Everyone knows she’s the smartest witch in her year and maybe the year above, as well. And she’s friends with Harry Potter. And he’s friends with Ginny’s brother. If I come off stupid, I’ll never be able to look Ginny in the eye again.”

“Such a Gryffindor,” Raza teases, and Astoria sticks her tongue out at him, and walks towards the trio.

“Um, Hermione Granger,” she starts, unsure whether she can call her by her first name. Miss Stick has always just been Miss Stick. Should it be Miss Granger? “Professor Flitwick recommended you for tutoring?”

Hermione Granger stares at her. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter abandon their game to stare at her. Astoria is going to die.

“Oh, you’re Daphne’s little sister!” Hermione exclaims. “I was trying to figure out why I recognised you. Tutoring in charms? I’m free on Wednesday afternoons after lessons, if that works for you.”

Astoria is not going to die! “That sounds good,” she says, as normally as she can. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” Hermione says, smiling, and returns to her book. Astoria has the sudden thought that it’s exactly like dealing with Daphne.

She walks out of the common room, grinning at Raza, and heads in what she thinks is the direction of the library. It’s not as if she’s willingly gone before - usually she’s just trailed in the wake of Raza or Maisie - so it takes her a few tries before she finds it.

As soon as she pokes her head through the door, she can see Maisie, alone on a table with parchment spread out all around her. As Astoria approaches, Mattie comes running towards the table, a heavy pile of books threatening to fall.

“Madam Pince recommended these ones,” he reports quietly. “How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

Maisie flaps a hand at him, eyes fixed on her parchment. Astoria sidles up and pulls it away from her, scanning the page. “Maisie, is this your potions essay? You do know it was only supposed to be about… half this length?”

Maisie snatches it back, eyes wild. “Astoria, I need to be the best at this.”

“No,” Astoria says slowly. “You finished that homework. Put it away. Mattie, help me out here.”

Mattie gladly joins in as Astoria packs away Maisie’s work, tugging gently at the essay she’s clutched in her hand. “Mais, come on.”

Maisie watches as Mattie takes her essay away from her, eyes wide. “Well what do you recommend I do now?”

Astoria grins, and Mattie backs away slowly.

“We’re going flying!”

Chapter Text

Maisie refuses to talk to Astoria (or let Mattie talk to her) for days after the failed flying practice. Astoria doesn’t see why she’s so upset - Maisie only fell off right at the end, and she was doing pretty well until then! Admittedly, trying to take a first-timer flying in the middle of gale-force winds was possibly not the best idea, but the quidditch match next week will be in worse conditions.

Maisie doesn’t see it her way, however, so Astoria contents herself with only hanging out with Raza and Leo, and making mournful faces at the two Ravenclaws whenever she sees them.

Charms sucks the soul out of Astoria - possibly a slightly tasteless joke given the current situation with the dementors, but an accurate one - and the potions lesson directly following lunch doesn’t exactly cheer her up.

“I expect my instructions to be followed to the letter,” Snape says, glare directed at the corner where Maisie is Mattie’s unwilling partner. “Experimentation of any kind is not tolerated in my classroom.”

“Sourpuss,” Astoria whispers to Raza, who gives her a sharp look and presses a finger to his lips.

“Begin.”

Astoria’s no slouch when it comes to potions, and she’s more than willing to take over most of the work from Raza, who finds it difficult. “Everyone has different strengths and weaknesses,” she chats to him, “you’re brilliant at everything else, I don’t see why it matters that you can never keep track of what order to add the ingredients.”

“It’s the same with you and charms,” he says, poking her shoulder. “Brilliant at everything else.”

Astoria beams under such high praise, and tosses the diced flobberworm into the cauldron with joyful abandon.

“Miss Greengrass, what are you doing?” Snape asks in a low voice, and Astoria looks up, eyes wide.

“Adding the flobberworm?”

Snape pauses, inspecting her cauldron. When he can’t find anything wrong with their work, he sniffs.

“Five points from Gryffindor for your laziness, Mister Mohammud.”

Astoria bristles, but Raza’s hand on her shoulder stops her from calling after Snape as he walks away. “That was so unfair! You diced that flobberworm for me, you’re doing plenty of the work.”

“Ignore him,” Raza insists. Astoria sighs.

“Can you skin the shrivelfig? I don’t want to touch it more than I have to.”

Raza laughs, but accepts the shrivelfig. Astoria stirs the cauldron three times anticlockwise, intently watching the colour turn from clear to pale blue.

“Mister Jones!” Snape screams, and Astoria snaps her head up. His face is slowly turning red.

“Yes, Professor Snape?” Mattie says slowly, looking up from his distinctly purple cauldron.

“Did I not say that experimentation would not be tolerated?”

Mattie grins, somehow unaware of the danger he’s waltzing into. Maisie has her head in her hands and is trying to distance herself from Mattie.

“I’m not experimenting! I’m only using the instructions and ingredients we’re supposed to.” He picks up his parchment page full of notes, showing it to Snape. Astoria cranes her neck to get a better look.

“This is not the correct order of instructions,” Snape says, halfway to apoplectic. “What you have created is-”

“A shrinking solution!” Mattie interjects neatly. “I know it’s technically a third year topic, but really once you have the ingredients it’s easy to figure out.”

Snape is ignoring Mattie, and glaring at his parchment instead. “These… are not the instructions to the letter, Mister Jones. Detention for a week.”

He slinks off to the supply cabinet, cloak billowing behind him, and slams the door. The class looks at each other.

“I could have sworn I copied them down right,” Mattie’s saying, grimacing at his notes. “Well, in the wrong order, but otherwise right.”

Maisie uncovers her face to peer at his notes. “That’s supposed to be a 3, and that’s supposed to say stir, not skin, and that’s supposed to say dice, not mice, and-”

She stops when she sees that Mattie has sunk down in his chair in embarrassment. “Mattie, do you have dyslexia?”

“Jesus, Maisie, no need to tell the entire class,” he says. Maisie frowns.

“How come you never told me?” she asks, looking hurt. “We’ve been best friends for years.”

Mattie’s turned an unbecoming shade of red, though luckily most everyone seems to have gone back to their potions. Astoria quickly adds the skinned shrivelfig, intent on eavesdropping on her friends.

“It’s not like it’s anything important,” Mattie grumbles, “and besides, I always knew you were going to be a witch. We figured I was just going to be your muggle best friend. I didn’t want to be your illiterate muggle tagalong.”

Maisie bites her lip, cross. “You’re hardly illiterate, Mattie, you just mixed up some letters. And anyway, there are- spells and that- if you’d just told someone we could have helped you!” she bursts out, hands flailing. “Look, you can just-”

She waves her wand and murmurs some incantation, and the parchment turns to a pastel blue. Mattie squints at it, then at her. “Why does blue paper help?”

“Something about brain processing, I don’t know, my mother’s the neuroscientist, not me,” Maisie says impatiently. “After this let’s go talk to Flitwick and see what he says. Maybe he can reduce your essay sizes or something! Astoria gets plenty of medical concessions, so it’s not like there’s not a precedent.”

Mattie’s still red, but Astoria thinks that by now, he’s probably pleased at how willing Maisie is to help instead of embarrassed, so she turns back to her own cauldron, which is an ugly red.

“Raza, did you try to add the knotgrass at the same time as the bubotuber pus?” she asks, inspecting the next lines of the instructions. Raza nods sheepishly. “That’s- that’s fine. We just…”

Astoria has no clue what to do next, but luckily, they have a potions whiz in the classroom, and she doesn’t mean Snape, who’s still locked inside the supply cabinet. “Mattie, if we accidentally added the knotgrass and bubotuber pus at the same time, what can we do to fix it?” she calls, grinning at Maisie.

Mattie flicks his gaze between the two girls, panic written clearly on his face. Eventually, academic integrity beats personal loyalty, and he shouts over to Astoria. “Add twice the measure of mooncalf dung and stir anticlockwise!”

“Mattie!” Maisie whines, “What did you do that for!”

“Sorry,” he says, and Astoria laughs. Ravenclaws.

Her potion turns out alright, so long as she leaves Raza to prepping the ingredients instead of handling the cauldron. Snape wanders back into the classroom a few minutes before the end of class and gives everyone their marks - Mattie and Maisie get a T, Astoria and Raza an E - and dismisses them all, usual sour expression fixed firmly in place.

“Do you want to go flying?” Astoria asks Raza desperately, despite knowing that it’s bucketing rain outside. He gives her a dry look.

“Tutoring,” he says, and gives her a little push. She sighs, and walks with him towards the common room.

“Look, if I don’t turn up, it’ll only reflect badly on Daphne, and I’m sure she doesn’t really care about what Hermione Granger thinks of her,” Astoria tries to rationalise. “Anyway, me doing badly will reflect on her anyway. It’s a lose-lose situation so I really just ought to not go.”

There’s no use in arguing with Raza when she’s in the wrong, and Astoria’s worn out all of her excuses by the time they reach the Gryffindor common room.

Hermione Granger is sitting at one of the small study tables, books spread out, and Astoria hesitates in the doorway.

“Go on,” Raza encourages gently, and she walks forwards, dragging her feet as much as possible.

“Oh! Astoria,” Hermione says warmly when she looks up. “Come on, have a seat.”

Astoria sits down gingerly, wary of the massive books Hermione seems to have amassed. “So, what are you having trouble with specifically?”

“I know the theory,” Astoria says quietly, “but I can’t do the spells in practice.”

Hermione nods, opening a book and flipping through the pages. “These really won’t be much use then - shame, they really are quite good - yes, I had the same problem when I was your age. Could you demonstrate for me?”

Astoria hesitates. “Um, sure. I’m not really supposed to do much magic, though, because of a medical condition.”

Hermione’s eyes widen. Astoria quickly does her best levitation charm, keeping one of the books in the air for twice as long as she normally does. When it drops, she feels the familiar beginnings of a nosebleed.

“Oh, never mind me,” she quickly says at Hermione’s look of concern, pressing a handkerchief to her nose. “Anyway, I can get one or two sparks from incendio, but nothing from the locking charm.”

Hermione nods slowly, still looking worried. “Well, I think I can help you with that.”

The rest of the session flies by. Astoria finds herself genuinely enjoying it, and has to take a moment to wonder if her brain has been replaced by Daphne’s.

Hermione is a really good teacher. Astoria feels guilty just calling her Hermione, but she laughs her head off when Astoria tries ‘Miss Granger’, so it’s probably the lesser of two evils.

By the time Hermione has to go, citing arithmancy homework, Astoria has managed an incendio for the first time, and though she has a splitting headache, she’s grinning.

“Go to bed,” Raza sighs when he sees her clutching her head, and Astoria complies without too much fuss.

She’s on her way back to her dorm room when Ginny appears from her own dorm, half her hair in a plait and the other half loose and wavy.

“Hey, Astoria, you’ve got nice hair,” she says, “want to join the braiding circle?”

Astoria’s curiosity is undeniably piqued, and though her head hurts like hell, she follows Ginny.

Inside the cramped room are three other girls, all with hairstyles in various states of completion. Luna currently has no-one’s hair to do while Demelza has no-one doing hers. Megan Jones is working Luna’s hair into a crown plait while Demelza is weaving tiny beads in plaits into Megan’s lovely curtain of black hair.

“Hello again, Astoria,” Luna says, and Astoria sits down in front of her. “What would you like me to do with your hair?”

“You can’t really do much with it, because it’s quite short, and awfully wavy,” Astoria says apologetically, hands coming up to comb through Ginny’s hair as she retakes her place doing Demelza’s space buns. “Anything you like, really. Oh- here, I’ve got a nice pin.”

Astoria finishes off the other half of Ginny’s hair, and begins pinning the plaits up in milkmaid braids. Demelza seems to be the one supplying the girls with all the pins, and Astoria wonders if her supply is never-ending.

When the other girls finish, Luna’s still carding her fingers through Astoria’s hair, slowly and carefully so as not to pull at any knots or tangles. Megan’s a Slytherin and Luna’s a Ravenclaw, and Astoria has no idea where Ginny and Demelza’s other roommates have gone, but it’s nice to feel included in a simple ritual like this.

Romilda has Annabelle and Sophie wrapped around her little finger, and Maisie’s not exactly the type to sit still and plait Astoria’s hair. Having someone just fiddle with her hair reminds Astoria of when she and Daphne were still little, and it’s nice.

She wouldn’t have expected Ginny to be the girly hairstyling type either, but she looks lovely with her crown of red fire.

Astoria’s headache is almost gone - Luna’s hands combing through her hair feels ridiculously nice - and she’s content and sleepy with her head in Luna’s lap as the other girls chat around her.

“Are you looking forwards to the quidditch match on Friday?” Demelza asks, and Megan laughs.

“You have such a one-track mind, Robins, it’s a wonder you ever do any work.”

“Excuse you! I have to keep focus if I want to make reserve beater next year.”

Ginny flaps a lazy hand in her roommate’s direction. “You know my brothers will never quit, you’ll have better luck training as a chaser.”

Demelza sticks her tongue out. “Then why do you always make me play beater?”

“Maybe I’ll ask Professor McGonagall if I can commentate a match one day,” Luna muses, and the others laugh.

“I would pay to see that, and you know how broke I am,” Ginny insists. “You absolutely have to. Maybe when Lee graduates, you can have his job.”

Luna’s fingers are still working gently through Astoria’s hair, and combined with the comforting warmth of all of the rooms in Gryffindor tower and the constant sound of the rain battering at the castle walls, it doesn’t take long for Astoria to drift off into swift sleep’s embrace.

Chapter Text

Despite her best wishes, Astoria winds up in the hospital wing again the next day.

She had been far too eager to show off her newfound progress in charms, and fainted after producing what was, in her opinion, a spectacular incendio.

“No casting spells for a month, and you need to cut down your frequency of casting after that,” is Pomfrey’s harsh verdict, and Astoria resigns herself to falling behind in charms yet again.

She’s languishing in her bed when her friends race up to see her after lessons are over.

“I suppose we can talk again if you’re in such a pitiful state,” are the first words out of Maisie’s mouth, and Astoria flicks her forehead.

“You’re supposed to be delighted to see me,” she whines, “or bring me flowers.”

Leo grins at her. “You know how Hannah’s been insisting that Sirius Black can turn into a flowering shrub?”

Astoria nods slowly, doing her best not to disturb the fragile lack of pain.

“Well, we called her out on how stupid an idea it is - backed up by some epic books Raza’s got on self-transfiguration - and she went on this herbology rant,” he continues, sitting down heavily on the end of Astoria’s bed. “The upshot of this very long story is that there was a commotion in one of the greenhouses, I have detention with Sprout, but also we have flowers for you.”

Mattie presents the flowers. There’s a smear of dirt on his cheek, and he’s still wearing dragonhide gloves.

“Are these flowers going to bite me,” Astoria asks flatly.

“Probably not!”

The flowers don’t bite her. Astoria guesses sometimes Sprout just wants a little bit of colour around her greenhouses. There’s an empty vase in the cabinet under her bedside table, so she brings it out and puts the flowers inside.

“Someone else is going to have to cast aguamenti for me, I’m off spells for a month,” she mumbles, and Raza fills the vase.

“Want to hear about what we learnt in transfiguration?” Maisie asks, eyes wide.

“Not really,” Astoria says, then reconsiders after seeing Maisie’s expression. “Yes, sure. Go ahead and tell me.”

Apparently they all learnt how to fix things that had been broken, and Raza was the best in the class. Go figure; he’s been top in transfiguration every lesson Astoria’s been in.

“You are brilliant,” she tells him, “and can you help me cheat on every practical exam ever?”

“No,” he says firmly, and backs away from her.

Astoria shakes her head. “Academic integrity. It’s disgusting.”

“I’m going to fail potions,” Leo declares, “can anyone help me cheat with that?”

“It’d be a little difficult, considering none of us are in your potions class,” Astoria sighs. “Who do you partner with?”

Leo pulls a face. “Um, Derek Sawyer? He’s in Slytherin.”

Astoria has to think for a moment. The only classes she shares with Slytherin are herbology, transfiguration and flying, but she can’t call to mind his face.

“The one with the bowl cut and the ridiculous glasses?” Maisie asks incredulously. “He’s awful at astronomy, is he any better at potions?”

Leo stares at her. “No,” he says slowly. “That’s why I’m failing.”

“Then just get a new partner?” Mattie suggests. “I can only help you with potions if you don’t understand what you’re doing, I’m no use on tips for how to deal with other people.”

“Professor Snape doesn’t let you switch partners,” Maisie says cuttingly. “I would know. I’ve tried.”

Mattie gasps and presses a hand to his heart, flopping backwards onto the bed. Astoria pulls her legs back just in time to avoid being crushed. “Maisie! You wound me!”

“You’re in the hospital wing, Matthew,” Maisie says. “Get over it.”

Mattie bounces up to grab Maisie in a headlock, and she squirms her way out of it.

“Ah, roughhousing,” Astoria sighs. “I remember being in a football team and getting to tackle boys. Those were good times.”

“Defence,” Raza raises as a point. “You kick everything, all the time.”

“It’s just not the same,” Astoria whines. “What satisfaction do I get out of beating up magical creatures?”

“A lot,” her friends all chorus, and Astoria pulls her covers over her head.

“You’re all mean to me,” she complains, muffled. “I deserve better. Where are Ginny and Luna? They’re actually nice to me.”

“Really?” Leo asks, and Astoria sticks her head back out.

“No, obviously. Ginny just crushes me at quidditch rather than with her quick wit.”

“They’re probably busy,” Maisie says. “Or maybe they’re doing their homework. Like we should be.”

Astoria laughs. “You’ve uncovered my fiendish plan. I subject myself to random bouts of illness for the express purpose of escaping the responsibility of homework.”

Leo sighs. “I wish I didn’t have to do homework.”

“Classwork is fun, homework annoys me,” Mattie nods. Leo furrows his brow.

“No, I don’t like classwork either.”

Astoria’s ahead on all her essays, and Madame Pomfrey’s latest edict prevents her from doing any spell practice, so her homework list currently amounts to nothing.

“I’ll stay,” Raza says, when Maisie brings up leaving to get some work done.

“You may devote yourself to my bedside,” Astoria says gracefully. “And you other traitors ought to excuse yourself from my sight.”

There is an actual chair next to her bed that Maisie normally claims, and Raza settles in to sit with her.

Spending any amount of time in the hospital wing is interminably boring, so Astoria doesn’t blame Raza for requiring a book to pass the time. All the books she actually enjoys reading are in her room, so soon enough she ropes Raza into a game of chess instead.

He’s better than her, largely because Astoria spends more time daydreaming about what political intrigues might be going on in the court of her chess pieces - alas, a bishop has been cruelly captured! How will the papacy survive - than actually strategising.

“Please just stop trying,” Raza pleads, with half his pieces still on the board compared to her king and singular pawn.

“But the neighbouring kingdoms have finally accepted the relationship between King David and the measly serf Frederick,” Astoria complains. “How could I let one of them die now?”

“Surrender peacefully?” Raza suggests. Astoria brightens.

“Good idea!”

Eventually, even Raza has to leave for dinner, and Astoria’s left alone with the remains of the kingdom of David on her bedside table.

“Food, glorious food,” she hums to herself, “hot sausage and mustard.”

“Do you actually want hot sausage and mustard?” Madame Pomfrey asks sharply, walking into the hospital wing with a tray of food.

“Nope,” Astoria mumbles. “What’s on the menu today?”

It’s soup. It’s always soup.

The evening is also interminably boring. The problem with the hospital wing is that the most interesting thing you can do is fall asleep, and that’s also playing exactly into Madame Pomfrey’s hands. She wants you to sleep, but as soon as you do, that’s it, you can’t go back to your own bed, she’s got you forever.

Astoria tries very hard to stay awake. “I definitely feel well enough to go back to the tower,” she tries, blinking hard.

“You’re almost asleep already, Miss Greengrass, don’t feel the need to fight it on my account,” Pomfrey announces cheerfully. Astoria grumbles and lies down.

“I’m not asleep,” she says clearly, and falls asleep.

When she wakes up, she’s not alone in the hospital wing. Someone is motionless behind fully drawn curtains, and the light is streaming in through the high windows.

Before Astoria gets all the way over to see who it is, her head spins and she has to sit down on the floor. “Oh dear,” she says quietly to herself, voice sounding loud in the silence.

By the time she no longer feels dizzy, she feels faint instead, and she reluctantly gets back into bed, longing for something with caffeine in.

Unfortunately, when Madame Pomfrey comes in with breakfast, the only drinks are her daily potions and a tall glass of water.

“Not even any tea?” she protests, seeing the teapot on the second tray Madame Pomfrey’s brought. “A second-class patient gets tea and I don’t?”

Pomfrey pauses. “A second-class patient?”

Astoria nods fervently, ignoring the way it starts up a throbbing in her head. “Whoever that is doesn’t have a permanent bed. Therefore, second class.”

Pomfrey laughs, and a wheezy laugh comes from behind the curtain as well. “I think I’ve been upgraded to first class, actually.”

Astoria squints, and wonders why Professor Lupin gets a permanent bed.

“Why do you get a permanent bed?” she complains. “I had to work for mine. I really had to suffer for it.”

“Does ‘werewolf’ cover it?”

Astoria hides her shock very well, and laughs instead of gasping. “Very nicely. I suppose you can join the club.”

Pomfrey shakes her head, and walks over to open the curtains and deliver breakfast. “I should have known that you two get on.”

“Who else did you think would be my favourite teacher?” Astoria asks, affronted. “Also, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Only that I’ve never seen two people worse for abuse of caffeine,” Pomfrey says dryly.

“And yet you keep me well-plied with tea,” Lupin says hoarsely. “You’re a saint, Poppy.”

“Harry Potter is the other first-class hospital wing patient,” Astoria informs Lupin, “although I doubt he knows it, considering I don’t think he knows that his is one of the permanent beds.”

Lupin’s busy drinking the entire teapot, and Astoria sighs and tucks into her own breakfast of oatmeal.

“Oatmeal or soup,” she grumbles, “whatever could be worse.”

“Raw rabbit,” Lupin says mildly, and Astoria snickers.

They pass the rest of the day in a similar manner. Professor Lupin is entirely bed-ridden with pain and fatigue, so Astoria wobbles over to sit in a chair by his bed for lunch, and they play a few games of chess.

Astoria grows more and more despondent as the day goes on, and eventually Lupin asks her why.

“I’m missing the quidditch match,” she sighs. “The first quidditch match of the season, and I’m missing it.”

Lupin shakes his head. “You really do remind me of James,” he murmurs. “Do you play?”

Astoria nods. “I’m best as a keeper, which is good because when Daphne deigns to join in, she plays chaser.”

“I never did play,” Lupin remarks, “but I suspect I would have played beater. Unusually strong, and all that.”

Through one of the windows, the far end of the pitch can almost be seen, and Astoria fixes her gaze on it. “The weather’s really awful.”

Lupin hums in agreement. “Thunderstorms aren’t exactly conducive to good flying.”

She can’t see much of the game, but she can see when the dementors come onto the pitch.

“They’re going to die,” she shrieks, and Pomfrey comes running in.

“What was that?”

“There are dementors on the pitch!” Astoria screeches. “Harry Potter, a boy known to faint in the presence of dementors, is flying in a thunderstorm and there are dementors!”

“This is probably your opportunity to tell him that he’s a first-class hospital wing patient,” Lupin sighs. “Though I wish it weren’t.”

Sure enough, within ten minutes Dumbledore is levitating Harry Potter into his hospital bed. Astoria returns to her own bed, eyes wide, as Pomfrey pulls the curtains around Lupin. “Is he alright?”

“He probably won’t be happy when he wakes up,” Pomfrey tuts, “but yes, he will be.”

The entire Gryffindor team follows in his wake, with Ron and Hermione tagging along behind. Astoria catches Hermione’s gaze, and watches as Hermione turns away, embarrassed to be caught staring.

Harry’s well-wishers largely ignore her, and Astoria feels very small and very alone as she watches Ron and Hermione huddle closer to Harry.

After they leave and Harry drifts off again, Astoria calls over to Lupin. “Is there anything anyone can do about that broom?”

“No,” Lupin says. “Not unless one has a great deal of money and very little to do with it.”

Astoria considers that carefully. “Good night, Professor.”

“Good night, Astoria.”

Chapter Text

Dear Mother and Father,

We have a great deal of money and very little to do with it, don’t we?

I ask on two fronts. The first is that I’ve been struggling in charms and have asked Hermione Granger, one of Daphne’s yearmates, to tutor me. My progress has improved leaps and bounds and I’d like some way to repay her.

The second is that Harry Potter’s broomstick was destroyed during a quidditch match the other day. I asked around, and it seems that his first broomstick was purchased for him as a gift by a teacher. No one seems to think that anyone will have the means to purchase him another. Harry Potter is the seeker on Gryffindor’s team, and we stand no chance at winning the Cup without him being top of his game.

If there’s something we can do about it, I’d feel so much better. He had to spend the weekend in the hospital wing and though he seems outwardly to be very popular, the only friends who took the time to visit were Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, the quidditch team and some teachers.

Another thought: Professor Lupin, our defence professor. You must keep this to yourself, but he’s a werewolf, and seems to be very poor. Surely there’s something we can do for him as well? He’s my favourite teacher, he’s ever so kind, and keeps me well fed on custard creams.

I’m having a brilliant time at school. Herbology and defence are my best subjects, and my friend Mattie is such a whiz at potions that he’s teaching all of us.

Ant and Anya’s rivalry with the Weasley twins is hilarious. I’m friends with Ginny, she’s a Weasley, and I have to say I think the Weasleys are more inventive. They don’t have much money to spend on Zonko’s, so they create lots of their own pranks.

I love you lots, and I’m looking forwards to coming home for Hanukkah!

Astoria x

Astoria, darling,

It’s lovely to hear from you! We were so pleased to get your letter. You must keep in contact more!

That’s a shame about Mr Potter’s broomstick. We were originally planning on getting you a broomstick, but if you’re sure, we can send it on to Mr Potter instead. Your charity and generosity were lovely to see.

We’ve included two galleons and a new quill for you to give Miss Granger in thanks for her services. Miss Stick will be feeling jealous, I’m sure! Perhaps you could spare the time to write to her as well?

As for your professor - of course we won’t say anything, flower. Some people may have certain opinions on werewolves, but with Professor Snape at the school, I have no doubt his Wolfsbane makes him perfectly safe. If the curse on the defence position strikes again, we’ll look out for him and make sure he finds employment. Prejudice has no place in the Greengrass house or among her allies.

Speaking of Professor Snape. We’ve heard some disturbing things about his teaching from Daphne, but passed it off as dramatics, as the Parkinsons claim he’s a perfectly good teacher. However, your friend Mattie having to teach you is making us a little nervous. Could you tell us more?

If you want to get your friends anything for Christmas, let us know sooner rather than later and we can order anything for you.

We are counting the days until you and Daphne are home, flower.

Mother and Father.

“Astoria,” Lupin says slowly, “did you buy Harry a broom?”

Astoria flushes, and shifts on her feet. She’s not going to be late for anything - defence is her last lesson on a Monday - so she has no excuse to escape this conversation.

“My parents do anything for me,” she says haltingly, “and we’ve been old money for generations, you know. You said - there was nothing to be done unless there was someone with lots of money and nothing to do with it. So I wrote my parents and asked for a few things.”

Lupin has gone a little pale. “A few things?”

Astoria shrugs. “Gifts for Hermione to say thank you for tutoring, the broom for Harry Potter, presents for my friends. Christmas break only starts two days into Hanukkah, so they sent over some early presents, as well. Mother’s the only one of us who’s practising Jewish, but all of Ant and Anya’s family are properly observant, so we normally go over to theirs for the big things, like Pesach and Purim and Rosh Hoshannah.”

She’s been using her own new quill from her mother all day, and the clothes her parents sent her are already neatly packed away in her trunk.

It feels weirdly stupid that Hogwarts makes them stay for a Monday and a Tuesday before letting them go off for the Christmas holidays, but she supposes that’s what you get when you keep the calender four people from the eleventh century came up with.

“Astoria,” Lupin sighs again. “You are entirely too generous.”

Astoria smiles and laughs awkwardly. “That’s a good fault to have, professor.”

She runs off to join her friends when he dismisses her, falling easily in step with Maisie and tucking herself under Raza’s arm. “Week and a half left, troops.”

Mattie salutes, and Maisie breathes out through her nose. “Week and a half.”

Despite their best attempts, the week and a half goes ridiculously slowly. Astoria refuses to let anyone tell Harry Potter that her family bought him the broom, informing her friends that the look on his face when he saw the package was gratitude enough for her.

Hermione, on the other hand, has made sure to thank her twice a day since Astoria gave her the quill and the money, at once trying to say how much she loves it and is going to use it and insisting that Astoria take it back and that it’s not necessary.

Astoria gets a little sick of this, and stumbles on a good way to occupy Hermione: she gives her Miss Stick’s address, rightfully certain that the two will get on, and that Hermione will be fascinated to hear about Miss Stick’s research.

Astoria’s doing nothing but kicking a quaffle about on a Thursday afternoon when Ginny comes tearing down towards her from the castle. “Astoria! Astoria!”

She drops the quaffle in surprise, and stumbles back as Ginny crashes into her. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you buy Harry that broom?” Ginny asks, shaking Astoria’s shoulders.

Astoria flushes. “Well, yes,” she admits. “He was so upset when his broom broke! I just wished I could do something, and my parents said he could have the broom they bought for me if I felt that strongly.”

Ginny laughs, tackling Astoria down to the snowy ground. “Thank God! Come on, you have to come back up to the castle. Hermione’s suddenly got it into her head that it could have been sent by Sirius Black. Don’t know why she didn’t complain before, but I guess she’s been distracted.”

“Oh, that’s my fault as well,” Astoria mutters. “Sorry, I didn’t know I would cause this much trouble.”

Ginny shakes her head, and pulls Astoria up. “Come on, let’s get there before McGonagall strips it down.”

They avert that crisis, but it does lead to Astoria being confronted by Harry Potter about it.

“You barely know me,” he says, staring at her with an intense gaze. “Why would you buy me a broom?”

Astoria shrugs. “I saw your face when you saw your Nimbus,” she says. “It wasn’t fair. And- you don’t have parents to buy you a new one. Professor Lupin said only someone with lots of money and nothing to do with it would buy a boy they barely knew a broomstick. Well, my family has lots of money and nothing to do with it. And it’s Hanukkah,” she finishes, a little lamely.

Harry Potter blinks at her.

“Plus, you, me and Professor Lupin are the only three with permanent beds in the hospital wing. I’m thinking of making it a club. What’s your stance on badges?”

He laughs, suddenly and sharply, and nods at her. “Cheers, Greengrass.”

“Happy holidays!” she chirps, and scarpers.

Raza laughs at her when she tells him about it. Astoria knows he’s looking forwards to seeing his little sister again for the holidays, and she makes him promise to write to her everyday.

The last weekend before the end of term, the majority of the upper school are in Hogsmeade, and Astoria spends her days daydreaming and staring out of the windows in the library while her friends read around her.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” Leo groans, upside down in a chair, his head level with the floor.

“Shh, we’re moral support,” Astoria hisses from where she’s perched on the window ledge.

“Alchemy is the perfect blend of all of our interests!” Maisie insists. “Potions for Mattie, transfiguration for Raza, obscure magical knowledge for me, the prospect of gold for Astoria, and a group bonding session for Leo.”

“I think you overestimate the importance of group bonding sessions for Leo,” Astoria sighs, “but you have a point about the rest of us.”

“I just want to get some research done on it before Christmas,” Maisie says, frowning. “Is that too much to ask?”

The last two days of term are also the first two nights of Hanukkah, so Astoria prances around the castle delivering the gifts she’s bought for people. Daphne gets gifts both evenings as well as chocolate coins for gelt, but for most people Astoria just uses Hanukkah as an excuse to spoil them for the holidays.

“I saw this and thought of you,” she informs Raza the morning they’re about to leave, and hands him a golden watch on a chain. “It was in the vault at Gringotts, but we’ve got so many things in there, Mother said if I liked it I could have it.”

She hands him a copy of Alice in Wonderland as well, smiling. “And this is for your sister!”

Professor Lupin seems pleased with her gift to him of a bar of chocolate with a wolf design on each of the squares, and Astoria finds herself with one last person to give a gift to before she has to get on the train.

“Ginny! Wait,” she calls after her when she finds her in the common room. “Happy holidays.”

The gift she presents Ginny with is a small silver cuff with lions etched onto it.

“Astoria,” Ginny says, bemused. “This is lovely.”

“For being such a brilliant friend,” Astoria chirps. “Sorry, I’ve got to go or we won’t get a compartment together.”

Ginny lets her run off, and Astoria finds her friends already settled down in one compartment, trunks tucked away, waiting for her.

“Onwards and upwards,” she declares, “and happy holidays, my friends.”

Astoria,

You made us all promise to write to you, drama queen, so of course I have to be the first one to send you a letter.

My father tried to warn me off the Greengrasses, but after a bombardment of anecdotes about how utterly normal you are and some of the things you’ve mentioned about your parents, he relented. So if you get a chance, you’re welcome at ours any time in the holidays! Mattie lives a two minute walk away, so it’s not as if you’d be without your entourage.

My dad also apparently went to school with Raza’s mum, so we’re going over to their house this week. That means I’m going to get to meet his sister first!

I can’t say I’ve arranged to meet Leo, though - from what you two have said about the Abbotts it sounds like he’ll have a houseful already, so perhaps I’ll leave him to have a proper family Christmas.

Is this the punishment from God we get for being atheists? All my friends are busy at Christmas time?

I do hope you’re having a good holiday (and doing your homework). You had better write me back!

Maisie.

Raza,

We had Mattie and Maisie’s families round the other day, and you and Leo were sorely missed. It’s just not the same without all of us! Might there happen to be a day you’re not busy so I can invite you over Chez Greengrass? Maybe I can get to meet your sister (hint hint)?

I’m not mad that Maisie got to meet her first at all.

Anyway. I hope your holidays have been good so far. Mattie promised to introduce me to television if I come over to his, so I’ll be going there tomorrow. Miss Stick’s in town for Hanukkah as well, so it’s really been nice to see the whole family.

Are you looking forwards to school starting up again? Daphne is already. Personally I want to stay away from work for as long as possible, especially charms.

Don’t have too much fun without all of us.

Astoria!

Mattie,

Did you show Astoria the muggle talking box? Telli Telly whatsit? She’s going on and on about doctors and none of us can understand her anymore than usual.

How’s the research going? Is it tough without the library, or does Maisie have all the books you need?

The twins are driving me up the wall but it’s nice that we get to spend so much time with the family. Uncle Gerry and Aunt Jemimah (Astoria’s parents) are really nice to let us stay.

It’s only a week until school starts. Only a week left of the holidays! I can’t believe it.

Leo

Maisie,

Stop stressing. Your homework is fine.

Raza

Chapter Text

The first day of term dawns bright and cold, and Astoria wakes to the unfortunate sight of her dormmates whispering together on Romilda’s bed.

“Good morning, Annabelle, Sophie, Romilda,” she calls as cheerily as possible as she starts to get dressed. “It’s a lovely morning, isn’t it?”

They look surprised that she’s addressing them at all.

“Looks cold,” Sophie volunteers, before Romilda swats her arm.

“I hope you had a lovely Christmas,” Romilda says, sickly sweet, and Astoria does her best not to let her smile waver.

“The holidays were very nice,” Astoria declares, pulling on Ginny’s old quidditch jumper and picking up her shoes. “Have a good day!”

She escapes into the common room before Romilda can snipe at her any further, and sinks down onto one of the sofas to buckle her shoes.

“Astoria!” Raza calls, and she looks up to see him. His hair is shorter, and she squeals at it.

“You cut your hair!”

Her own hair is exactly the same, though she brought a few new products from home to hopefully keep the curls in better. Raza looks different, though, his ears pointy where before they’d been invisible.

He twirls for her, and Astoria claps. “I do hope Mattie hasn’t cut his, it’s funny watching him do his best to keep it out of his face. Maybe it’ll be long enough to tie back soon, wouldn’t that look funny?”

Raza seems content to let her chatter on, and as soon as she finishes putting on her shoes, she takes his arm and leads on to the Great Hall.

They’re early, but Ron and Harry are already sitting at the Gryffindor table, staring daggers at Hermione. She doesn’t seem to notice, head down and papers spread in front of her, but Astoria gives them a wide berth, sitting down at the other half of the table.

“It’s good to be back,” she remarks, downing her potions and reaching for the pitcher of pumpkin juice. “I’ve missed the scent of crazy that follows those three around everywhere they go.”

After Astoria’s already nibbled her way through half of a bread roll and Raza’s decimated a plate of scrambled eggs, Leo walks into the Great Hall, dragging a familiar boy behind him.

“Raza, what was bowl cut boy’s name again?” Astoria hisses as the pair of boys approaches.

“Hi Astoria!” Leo says, sitting down opposite her. “Derek, this is Astoria and Raza.”

Bowl cut boy waves nervously, his eyes looking massive behind his thick glasses.

“We’re all friends with Mattie,” Leo chatters on, “but he and Maisie aren’t here yet. Anyway! Derek and I are trying to learn more about potions, so we’re going to ask Mattie if he can teach us.”

Astoria nods thoughtfully, stabbing a piece of sausage from the central plate. “That’s actually a good idea. I’m done with tutoring, but do you think we ought to start a study group or something?”

Leo shrugs and starts buttering a piece of toast. “I mean, I don’t think I could contribute much, but it would mean getting help with my homework, right?”

Raza laughs, from next to Astoria. “It’s a good idea.”

Astoria flushes with pride. “I mean, you can help us with transfiguration, Mattie can help us with potions, Maisie can generally make cutting remarks about our stupidity and point out our errors-”

Derek makes a sound that might be a cough or might be a laugh. Astoria tilts her head. “Derek, are you alright?”

He nods frantically, his glasses wobbling dangerously on his nose.

“Well, I’m free most afternoons,” Astoria says slowly. “Madam Pince might not appreciate a large group of us in the library, but do you think we could ask a teacher if we could use an empty classroom?”

“This sounds great!” Leo enthuses, “should we do it Wednesday afternoons when you used to have tutoring? Derek and I have defence last thing, but you guys have potions, don’t you?”

Raza nods, and Astoria grins. “Troops, we have ourselves a plan.”

She sees Derek again when they have herbology together, and he smiles at her every time she speaks up in class. It’s a little odd, but Astoria dismisses it. Maybe he just doesn’t have many friends.

Her and Raza corner Maisie and Mattie after defence, and Astoria explains the plan.

“And we need to ask a teacher if we can use an empty classroom,” Astoria says, “shall I go ask Lupin now?”

Maisie quirks an eyebrow. “We haven’t agreed yet.”

Astoria gives her a flat look, and Maisie shrugs. “Obviously we’re saying yes. Go on and ask.”

Professor Lupin very kindly gives them the use of the empty classroom opposite his, and all that remains is for Astoria to wait until Wednesday.

Unfortunately, the passage of time seems to slow down. Tuesday stretches ahead of her, languid and lazy, and Astoria finds herself unwilling to crawl out of bed in the morning.

“Astoria?” a small voice asks her, and Astoria opens her eyes to see Sophie Roper shifting on her feet. “Um, I just wanted to say… if you leave it any later, you’ll probably miss breakfast.”

She walks away quickly before Astoria has the chance to thank her, and Astoria’s alone in the room.

“That was weird,” Astoria sings to herself, debating between a sweater vest or a cardigan. She doesn’t end up missing breakfast, which is lucky because if she did Madame Pomfrey would hunt her down, but she does spend the entire time staring at Sophie.

“You’re staring,” Raza says.

“It’s going to creep her out,” Mattie agrees. Maisie’s locked in academic debate with Derek and Leo, who looks as if he would rather be anywhere else, so Mattie sensibly ended up with them. “Isn’t she one of Romilda’s friends?”

“Yes,” Astoria mutters. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

Astoria watches Sophie all through flying and potions, but by transfiguration she has Maisie, Mattie and Raza on her case.

“You’re being weird,” Maisie insists, “you’ve been staring at Roper all day. What gives?”

Astoria sighs distractedly. “She was nice.”

Maisie waits for any further information, and sighs when none is forthcoming. “That’s not a reason to stalk someone, Astoria.”

“It is if they’re usually one of Romilda’s cronies,” Astoria says, “and anyway haven’t you noticed an odd look about her?”

“No,” they all say at once. Astoria wilts.

“I just think it’s weird,” she sighs. “But I’ll stop staring. It is kind of creepy.”

There’s another fight in the Gryffindor common room that afternoon between Ron and Hermione. This time, Astoria’s pretty sure it’s about the snitch that got anonymously sent to Harry, rather than the rat/cat fighting that’s been the usual flavour of debate, but it’s still ridiculously aggressive for two people who are supposed to be best friends.

“I hope we never fight like that,” Astoria says to Raza, lying down on top of him with her head in his lap. “I mean, it makes both of them sad, you can tell, but they just keep sniping at each other. Let’s promise never to fight.”

Raza pats her head. “I promise.”

When Wednesday finally comes around, Astoria’s a mess of anticipation for the study group. Defence, normally her favourite subject, just leaves her fired up with adrenaline from attacking the latest creature of the week, and charms drags on.

She can’t concentrate at all in potions, and manages to lose the points she gained in defence. When Snape slinks past, she slumps down in her chair, face hot with embarrassment.

“Cheer up,” Raza says, squeezing her shoulder. “It’ll be over soon.”

He’s right, as usual, and they still manage to scrape by with an A. Maise and Mattie are still getting Ts twice a week, thanks to Mattie’s anarchistic streak, but he seems cheerful enough about it, and even a T isn’t enough to drop Maisie’s average grade of an O.

As soon as Snape lets them out, Astoria drags the others up the stairs towards the classroom they’ve been allowed to use. To her great disappointment, Leo and Derek aren’t already there waiting for them. Astoria sets her bag down and swoons as dramatically as possible onto the teacher’s chair.

“Astoria!” Mattie yelps, and she blinks at him.

“Possibly I should have been more clear,” she says slowly. “That was a dramatic-swoon, not an I’m-fainting-swoon.”

Maisie rolls her eyes. “When you grow up and have a house, the thing I will buy you as a housewarming present is going to be a fainting couch.”

Astoria giggles, and taps at the table. “Come put your books on here, Maisie, yours have annotations in.”

Maisie grudgingly donates her books to the cause, and soon enough the door swings open, admitting Leo, Derek, and a slight figure half-hidden behind them.

“This is my friend Sophie,” Derek says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “She wanted to know if she could study with you as well.”

Astoria nearly swoons for real in surprise to see Sophie Roper. “Is she sure?”

“Yes,” Sophie says quietly. “I think Romilda’s needlessly mean to you, really, but I’ve been friends with her and Annabelle for years and years. They’re- they’re alright really,” she tries to assure Astoria, hands quavering in front of her. “Anyway - all of you are so clever, and I just don’t understand some of the stuff we’re supposed to know.”

Astoria tilts her head. Sophie’s never really been as catty as Romilda and Annabelle, she supposes.

“What does everyone want to work on first?” she asks, doing her best to neatly move the conversation on. “Has Snape set you two the same essay on the properties of fluxweed?”

Derek nods, taking a seat and taking out parchment and ink. “I don’t even know what fluxweed looks like.”

Mattie takes over, directing all of them, and Astoria finishes her essay in half the time it normally takes when she doesn’t have Mattie explaining all about binding agents.

Derek has the same history essay as Astoria, Raza and Sophie, but the others don’t, so they spend a little more time on the alchemy research they started before the holidays while Astoria struggles through trying to explain the causes of the second goblin versus house-elf war as best as she understands it.

“Binns is just so boring,” she groans, “I only get about half of what he’s saying.”

“The first war was about territory,” Sophie pipes up, “and the second was about clans, sort of. See, both species share common ancestry, so there were certain hereditary arguments that tended to arise? The house-elves of one clan thought they were entitled to the weapons and titles of one of their legendary heroes, but the goblins from a clan supposedly also descended from the same hero thought it was theirs.”

She blushes when she’s finished, and avoids looking them in the eye.

“That was brilliant,” Astoria enthuses, “Sophie, you’re brilliant! How did you know all that?”

Sophie laughs nervously. “My mum told me - um. How bad Binns is? So I don’t actually go to classes, I just read the textbooks and get Derek to tell me the assignments.”

Astoria gapes. “Why don’t we all do that? Raza, why are we still bothering?”

Raza shrugs, eyes sparkling. “School rules?”

“Sod school rules!” Astoria declares. “From now on, we only send one out of the four of us to history class.”

“Does it always have to be me?” Derek sighs, adjusting his glasses.

“Of course not,” Astoria says, frowning. “We’ll take turns. That’s only fair.”

Derek shrugs. “Not everyone’s fair.”

Astoria bristles. “Well, we are here. Study group trumps house rivalries.”

Sophie giggles. “What house rivalries? You sit at a different table every mealtime.”

“Not every mealtime,” Astoria says sheepishly. “I sit at the Gryffindor table for dinner.”

“School rules,” Raza sighs again.

Astoria shakes her head. “What miserable things, school rules. How sad it would be to follow them.”

“Most people follow school rules,” Derek says anxiously.

Astoria laughs. “Most normal people. Do any of us look normal?”

Mattie shrieks over from where the three of them are hunched around a book, and Maisie swats the back of his head. Leo’s lying on his stomach, inspecting the book closely, and the ink is slowly crawling onto his nose.

“I suppose not,” Derek muses. “I always thought you were, though.”

Astoria shakes her head. “What a terrible, terrible thing to say. That I’m normal. It hurts me right here.”

Raza flicks her forehead affectionately. “Drama queen.”

Astoria grins. “Damn right I am.”

Chapter Text

The study group is a great success, and Astoria even sees Sophie stick up for her against Romilda once. All of them get top marks on their potions essay, and not having to listen to Binns any more than once every two weeks puts a spring in Astoria’s step.

January melts into February without much incident. Astoria finds herself truly enjoying her lessons, and makes sure to write to her parents and to Miss Stick once a week.

There’s an infectious mood about the Gryffindor common room with the quidditch match against Ravenclaw drawing closer, and when Astoria finds herself sitting in Ginny’s room again, she takes the opportunity to ask Luna about it.

“Are the Ravenclaws as insane about quidditch as our team?”

Luna takes a moment to think about it, hands twisted in Demelza’s hair. “No,” she decides, “although Cho Chang and Roger Davies have enough quidditch insanity for everyone.”

Megan snorts. “Be glad you’re not in Slytherin. All we ever hear about is Malfoy the seeker, Malfoy the benefactor, Malfoy the bloody weasel face.”

“Harry and Ron are still mad at Hermione over that snitch,” Ginny chips despondently. “It was a real, professional-grade one for Harry to practise with that he got for Christmas, but Hermione thought Sirius Black had sent it. I don’t know how a snitch could be an assassination attempt, but he’s still not got it back from the tests Flitwick’s running on it.”

“Oh, is that it?” Astoria asks mildly. “I thought they were mad at Hermione because of her cat.”

Ginny lets out an aggrieved sigh. “My brother has hated that rat for years, and now he’s upset over its possible death? I feel sorry for poor Hermione, having to deal with that.”

Astoria ties off the plait she’s been working on in Luna’s hair. “I’m looking forwards to the match. The Ravenclaw-Slytherin one was good, but I haven’t had a chance to see a Gryffindor match yet.”

“Pray Gryffindor wins,” Demelza says darkly, “or it’ll be awful around the common room.”

“Why weren’t you at the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match?” Megan asks, and Astoria shrugs.

“I was ill.”

A few days before the match, Astoria’s doing her best to warm herself in front of the cheerful fire, rotating every few minutes.

“Like a roast chicken,” Raza comments, and Astoria sticks her tongue out at him, basking in the warmth and edging slightly closer to the fireplace.

“If you get any closer to that, you’ll be sitting in the grate,” Ginny sighs, rolling her eyes. “Raza, want to play a game of chess?”

Before he has a chance to reply, a yell silences every conversation in the common room. Astoria cracks one eye open, surveying the room, but she can’t see where it came from.

Suddenly Ron bursts into the room, clutching something in his fist and trailing a bedsheet behind him. Astoria relaxes, expecting more Potter-like antics, when Ron starts screaming at Hermione.

“Can he shut up,” she whispers, and Raza snorts.

Apparently the rat is finally dead and the cat did him in. No surprises there. Ginny’s face contorts like she’s not sure whether to smirk or frown.

“Oh God, he’s going to be impossible,” she says, and settles on frowning. “But couldn’t he see it coming?”

Evidently not. For the next week there’s a tension even among the upper years as the entirety of Gryffindor walks on eggshells around the three third years.

“It’s only because he’s Harry Potter that we care so much about a dispute over pets,” Astoria explains to Maisie during transfiguration, “but he is Harry Potter, so we do care. So deeply. There are bets on whether Crookshanks killed Scabbers or not. If you’re Team Hermione you just can’t be friends with anyone on Team Ron.”

Maisie ignores her and gets on with her transfiguration work. Astoria’s restricted on casting, but she doesn’t have anywhere better to be, so she’s still in the classroom bothering Maisie.

“Personally I’m on Team Hermione,” she continues. “I mean, you can’t blame a cat for eating a rat. Seriously. Ginny’s on Team Ron, but a little unwillingly.”

Maisie turns around to stare at Astoria. “Astoria, unless knowing if everyone in Gryffindor is Team Ron or Team Hermione is going to turn this hedgehog into a pincushion, can it wait until after the lesson?”

“No,” Astoria says, trying to hide a smile. “This is urgent, Maisie. It’s life and death. Oliver Wood was duelling Penelope Clearwater because Penelope insinuated that Ron might be making a big deal over nothing.”

The hedgehog squeaks. It’s very much still not a pincushion. Maisie pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Astoria, I’m about to duel you over this. If I say I’m Team Hermione will you shut up?”

Astoria shuts up.

The day of the match approaches quickly, the entire school buzzing with nerves. The Gryffindor quidditch team can be spotted at all hours, heads pressed together and whispering frantically.

Astoria takes her time getting dressed in the morning, savouring her freedom. By the time she’s decided what to wear, Ginny’s knocking on her dorm’s door. Astoria opens the door to Ginny’s manic grin, and sighs.

“You have no sense of style,” she laments, forcing one of her floaty silk scarves around Ginny’s neck, underneath her ponytail. “This is a whole-school event and you’re wearing jeans. You upset me.”

Ginny laughs, wrapping her own woollen scarf around Astoria’s neck. “Nice hair today, did you do something special?”

Astoria nods, enjoying the feeling of her curls brushing her shoulders. “Muggles have better curlers than wizards, did you know?”

Today, Astoria is not friends with Maisie and Mattie. She’s not going to consort with any Ravenclaws at all for fear of jinxing the match, so she sits down firmly for breakfast at the Gryffindor table, and doesn’t even glance at the Ravenclaw table.

“Mattie’s sad,” Raza comments, and Astoria swings around to stare at him.

“Oh no, he is,” Astoria sighs. “I can’t talk to Mattie! It’d be fraternising with the enemy!”

She gets up and asks Leo if he’ll talk to Mattie, then sits back down with Raza.

“House loyalty is so very important, don’t you think?” she asks conversationally, and Raza snorts.

“We had this conversation already,” he says, gesturing towards Sophie.

Astoria blinks. “Yes, well. Quidditch is an entirely different matter.”

The weather’s clear and bright, and her and Raza walk arm-in-arm towards the stands, filled with excitement.

“Ginny should have saved us seats,” Astoria says, “let’s find out where she’s got to.”

The seats are good - high enough to catch most of the action, but not so high that Astoria’s fingers turn blue with the chill on the breeze. Ginny grins to see them, her own Gryffindor scarf trailing in the wind.

“Ready?”

Astoria’s brought snacks, and she shares them around as they chat quietly, waiting for the action to start.

It doesn’t take long for the teams to come soaring out, two arrows of red and blue. Harry Potter’s riding the broomstick she gifted him, sitting tall and proud at the back of the formation, and Astoria hollers along with everyone else to see the Gryffindor team.

As soon as the match begins, she’s on the edge of her seat. It’s exhilarating even to watch, Astoria has no clue how the players make it through the matches with such a serious demeanour.

Harry’s a demon on his broom, flying circles around Cho Chang, but Astoria’s gaze is fixed on Oliver Wood, tracking his movements and reflexes.

“Oh!” Ginny yells, and Astoria looks back over to Harry, spinning lazily in the air, looking cross. “He lost the snitch.”

“What position would you play, if you could?” Astoria asks, watching Wood out of the corner of her eye.

“Chaser or seeker,” Ginny says, distracted, “Come on, Harry, we need to win this.”

Astoria shrugs. “I’d play keeper,” she says, “maybe next year I’ll try out as a reserve.”

“Good idea,” Ginny says, still enraptured by the match. “Oh - there’s the snitch!”

Harry’s speeding towards it, face a mask of concentration, pulling his new broom forwards.

Astoria’s gaze drifts down, and she shrieks. “Dementors!”

Evidently someone yells at Harry as well, because he whips out his wand and casts some silver spell, which knocks the dementors down like bowling pins. Astoria looks back up in time to see Harry’s hand close around the snitch, and she jumps to her feet with the rest of Gryffindor, screaming.

“He did it!” Ginny screeches in her ear, “We won!”

Astoria joins the crowd hurrying towards the Gryffindor team, spirit light as air. The delight and laughter is infectious, and she can't help but scream with laughter when she sees the Slytherin boys fighting out of the dementor robes.

“Good job,” Ginny’s shouting at her brothers, “that was epic!”

Astoria beams up at Professor Lupin, who’s doing his best to shepherd the Gryffindor celebrations back towards the school. “Now we just need to beat Ravenclaw by at least two hundred points and we’ll win the Cup!”

“Appreciate this victory first, J-” Professor Lupin says, stuttering over her name. “Astoria.”

“Did you see the way Harry flew? It’s incredible,” she tells him firmly, “I want to fly like that one day.”

“I’m sure you will,” he says, distracted. “Don’t stay up too late partying tonight, Astoria.”

She shrugs, and runs off, launching herself at Raza’s back. He catches her, and carries her all the way up to the common room, muscles clear under his short sleeves.

“Who are you flexing for?” she yells in his ear, trying to be heard over the din of the celebrations. “Or are you just trying to show off that you’re eleven and already this strong?”

“Want some butterbeer?” he asks, eyes shining, and Astoria gives in.

“Yes, yes, get me some please.”

The party goes on long enough that it starts to bother Astoria, and Raza takes her up to his dorm to sit in the quiet for a while.

“Headache?” he asks, cross-legged on his bed opposite her. Astoria nods, and he passes her some painkillers from the pack on his bedside table.

She swallows them dry, and massages her temples. “Can we play chess?”

Astoria’s very slowly improving, and this time she manages to keep hold of her queen for nearly the whole game. The muted noise of the party downstairs continues, and Raza’s dormmates don’t make an appearance, and by the time the Hogwarts clock tower chimes midnight, Astoria is asleep, curled up at the foot of Raza’s bed.

He shakes her awake only a few hours later, and she stretches, spine clicking, feet numb.

“What?”

He doesn’t say anything, only leads her down the stairs to the common room. Most of Gryffindor is already congregated there, pressing down from the stairs to the dormitories and pushing forwards to try and get a better look at the commotion by the portrait hole.

“SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE,” Ron screams at McGonagall. Astoria turns around to go back to bed.

“I am too tired for this right now,” she tells Raza. “You can tell me in the morning if Sirius Black murders anyone. Right now he could be hiding in my bathroom and I would not care.”

She heads back up the staircase, and stops halfway up. A huge black dog is doing its best to blend into the darkness of the window, quivering and shaking from where it’s sitting on the window seat.

Astoria doesn’t think any of the Gryffindors has a dog, so it’s probably a stray that’s somehow managed to get into the castle and up into the tower. Astoria takes pity on it, walking close enough to stroke its matted fur.

“No use trying to get out now, everyone’s in the common room,” she whispers to it, “I’ll smuggle you out in the morning.”

It’s ridiculous, that she’s helping a stray dog not get caught escaping Gryffindor tower, but it looks so pitiful, whining and cringing away from her.

Maisie wouldn’t hesitate to bring it to a teacher, but Astoria is entirely too tired to do anything sensible. There’s a dog in Gryffindor tower. Sirius Black was allegedly here. It’s three in the morning.

The dog barely fits underneath her bed, but it snuffles and lies down quietly enough, so Astoria figures the others probably won’t notice.

She’s still wearing Ginny’s quidditch jumper, but she’s far too tired to get changed, so she just slips under her duvet, rolls over, and falls asleep.

By the time she finally wakes up in the morning, the dog is gone.

She tells Raza about it over breakfast, voice hushed to match the tone of the school as a whole. Astoria’s shaken over Sirius Black being inside the castle again, but she comforts herself with the knowledge that Harry, Ron and Hermione are the only ones likely to be affected by anything that happens at Hogwarts, ever.

“I do hope it’s alright, though,” Astoria says, staring bleakly at her bowl of cereal. “I mean, it was a dog. Dogs don’t deserve any of the bad things that happen to them.”

“It’ll be fine,” Raza says, eyes ringed with dark bags.

Astoria sniffs, and finishes her pumpkin juice. “And I hope they catch Sirius Black soon.”

Chapter Text

A week after Sirius Black nearly killed Ron, he pulls his head out of his arse and apologises to Hermione. The cessation of the tension between Ron and Hermione means the Gryffindors can relax again in the common room, although the general mood is still charged with fear and anxiety.

Astoria makes a resolution to do her best to avoid the crazy events happening and focus on her school work, a decision her friends seem to accept wholeheartedly.

Even Leo seems to be putting more effort into his work than usual. Astoria doesn’t know if it’s because he’s trying to avoid thinking about the mass-murderer on the loose around school or if it’s because Derek’s suddenly improved and he wants to catch up, but either way, she finds him in the library more often than not.

With the Easter holidays approaching, Maisie gets more and more snappish. Astoria finds her in the classroom they use for the study group one afternoon, and sighs.

“Maisie, where’s Mattie?”

She looks up, eyes wide, her hair messy and falling out of her plait. “With Leo,” she says, doubtfully. “I think.”

Astoria sits down next to her, gently moving the work away from them. “Maisie, do you think you might be doing a bit much?”

Maisie shakes her head, flapping her hands. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Astoria says firmly. “Does Mattie know you’re here doing work?”

“Mattie’s not my keeper,” Maisie bristles.

Astoria sighs, and reaches up to fix Maisie’s hair. Maisie shudders at the touch, edging away from her.

“What can I do for you?” Astoria asks, as quietly as she can. Maisie just shrugs, hitting her leg softly.

Astoria’s never seen Maisie like this, and doesn’t know how to fix it. The only thing she can think to do is the things that help her when she has a migraine, so she gets up to blow out the lamps, and takes Maisie’s robe off her, careful not to touch her directly.

Neither of them say anything for a while, sitting together in the dark and the silence. Maisie’s breathing slowly evens out, and Astoria takes the liberty of being the first to speak up.

“Your hair’s going to bother you if you leave it like that,” she says softly. “Can I redo the plait so there aren’t any bits falling out?”

Maisie nods, shifting to give Astoria access. She does her best to finger comb Maisie’s long hair, and pulls it into as tight a plait as she can without hurting her.

When she’s finished, Maisie takes her hand and squeezes it, and Astoria breathes a sigh of relief.

“Do you want me to go and find Mattie?” she asks, but Maisie shakes her head, her plait swinging. “Okay. Do you want me to stay here and keep sitting with you?”

Maisie nods, the movement small, and Astoria barely picks it up in the darkened room. She pushes the table away as much as she can, and watches Maisie quietly.

“The philosopher’s stone,” she starts, doing her best to remember the passage of the book she’s been reading most recently. “The most sought-after alchemical process, and a muggle myth. It’s become a thought experiment in recent times - is it possible to turn one element into another? Why would the same process also give eternal life? Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel are still around, still claiming they’ve used a philosopher’s stone, and the majority of the alchemical community mostly ignores them and focuses on their own research.”

Maisie snickers. Astoria grins, and carries on.

“Muggle science would indicate that the philosopher’s stone must have some effects on an atomic level. All legends are very specific on lead to gold, which is - um, gold is 79 on the periodic table, lead is…”

“82,” Maisie fills in softly.

“82, yes, thank you. So it’s um - taking away three protons, which is. Not that much on the grand scale of things. Other atomic swaps would be a lot more impressive really, but it’s interesting that it’s going from a higher atomic weight to a lower one - iron is more abundant, less toxic, and probably would have been a better choice, but it’s been proposed that the philosopher’s stone works as an oxidation reaction… which could then mean that the eternal life bit is the inverse to balance it out? A reduction reaction, and gain of electrons.”

Astoria chews her lip, trying to think. “Although I don’t see why negatively charging someone would give them eternal life. It’s the theory of this author, though, and he’s had some good takes so far.”

“And that gives him academic integrity?” Maisie asks, almost as cuttingly as normal.

Astoria giggles. “Are you saying my faith in someone isn’t enough to give their theories credibility?”

“Where are these electrons going, hm? Are they delocalised? Can the Flamels conduct electricity?”

Astoria pouts, wrinkling her nose. “It’s just a theory, Mais.”

Maisie shrugs. “Well, you can keep looking into the philosopher’s stone. Raza and I are going to ask McGonagall about alchemical transmutations. Did you know it’s called chrysopoeia? Trying to turn metals into gold?”

“Nope,” Astoria says, stretching across the table. “Nor do I know how you managed to make your mouth say that word, nor do I know how to spell it.”

Maisie laughs helplessly. “Oh, Astoria,” she says, flapping her hands. “Anyway. Mattie went off on one the other day about panaceas, which you’ve clearly forgotten all about.”

Astoria hums. “Maybe I’ll write Miss Stick and ask her if any of her friends at university are studying chemistry.”

“You don’t like chemistry.”

“Correction - I don’t like chemistry as much as other subjects, like maths, for example. I prefer chemistry to biology, at least.”

Maisie sighs, and leans back suddenly on her chair. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Astoria blinks, adjusting to the sudden change in conversation. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Oh,” Maisie says quietly. “It’s- well. I just.”

There’s a heavy pause. Astoria reaches up to tousle her hair, feeling self-conscious.

“I get- stressed. And I don’t like noise or touch or bright lights sometimes. And people don’t make sense, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people make no sense whatsoever, and normally Mattie helps, but- I just- I was-”

Maisie trails off, looking frustrated, and Astoria tugs as lightly as possible at her plait.

“Is there anything we can do for you? Do you want us to do anything differently?”

Maisie shrugs, fingers twitching by her sides. “What you did today was good. Just talk at me until I feel normal, I guess.”

Astoria nods decisively. “Well, let’s go find the boys and see what they’re up to.”

Maisie reluctantly leaves the classroom with Astoria, and the two of them find their way to the Hufflepuff common room, lingering awkwardly outside the barrels.

“Leo said it was here,” Astoria says after they’ve been standing around for a few minutes.

“Well did he say how to get in?” Maisie says scathingly, shooting Astoria a withering look.

Astoria shrugs. “Nope.”

With a stroke of luck, a Hufflepuff third year comes around the bend fairly soon. He freezes when he sees them, eyes wide.

Astoria squints at him, peering at his familiarly crooked nose. “Oh my God, are you Annabelle’s brother?”

The boy stutters out something in the affirmative.

“Hey, Kevin! She never shuts up about you!” Astoria crows. “Let us in?”

Kevin doesn’t even question them, just knocks on a barrel and lets them crawl in first. Astoria laughs quietly to herself, giving Maisie a hand once she’s through to the other side.

“Let’s just find Leo quickly,” Maisie groans, shooting a glare at Kevin. The Hufflepuff common room is warm, and the armchairs are covered in pastel quilts. There are students dotted about, sitting on the fluffy carpet or perched at the low study tables, but Astoria doesn’t spot Leo’s familiar sandy hair.

“Can I help you?” A tall, handsome boy asks them, face marred with concern as he takes in Maisie’s Ravenclaw tie and Astoria’s tastefully red silk headband.

“Yes,” Maisie says slowly, and stops. Astoria nudges her as inconspicuously as possible. Maisie shoves her back.

“I’m Cedric Diggory,” the boy sighs, and Astoria notices the shining prefect badge on his lapel for the first time.

The name twigs something in Astoria’s memory, and she clicks her fingers. “Seeker. Ginny was saying you were quite good. Hello, yes, we’re looking for Leo Abbott?”

“Stori!” comes a shriek of a cadence Astoria recognises, and she grins.

“Leo!”

He runs up to them, nearly knocking Diggory over, and beams at them. “How in Merlin’s name did you get in?”

“How did you get in?” Diggory echoes suspiciously.

Astoria waves a hand. “Where are Mattie and Raza?”

“Am I supposed to know?” Leo shrugs.

“I thought they were with you?”

Leo shakes his head earnestly. “I finished my potions homework with Derek in the library, I don’t know where Raza and Mattie went.”

Astoria purses her lips. “Hm.”

“Hm,” Maisie echoes.

“Hm,” Leo joins in.

Diggory stares at them. “Hm.”

There’s a pause.

Astoria snaps her fingers. “It’s Lupin’s office hours on Tuesday afternoons!”

“Of course,” Leo sighs.

“I do not understand first years,” Diggory mutters.

Astoria scoops up her friends and they leave the common room in peace. She shoots a longing glance at the quilts, and resolves to come back and steal one another time. For now, they are on a mission: locate Raza and Mattie before they leave Lupin’s office.

“We were metres away from them when we were in the classroom,” Maisie grumbles, striding ahead. “Literally metres. This is why I’m the one known for my common sense and Astoria’s the one known for doing stupid things.”

Astoria speeds up to fall in step next to Maisie, struggling to catch her breath. “You were also involved in the decision process that led us to Hufflepuff.”

“It was a sensible idea!” Leo chirps, throwing his arms around Maisie’s shoulders. “Cheer up, Mais, I’m sure Mattie’ll be there when we get there.”

“Will he,” Maisie mutters darkly. “And I’m worried about that prefect getting us into trouble.”

Diggory’s a Hufflepuff, so Astoria highly doubts he’s going to report them for something as small as infiltrating a common room, but if it makes Maisie feel better to have something to worry about, she’s not about to say anything.

Tuesday afternoons almost always end up with at least two of them monopolising Lupin’s office hours. There are often other students there, but whenever Astoria’s been over, she’s been the only one brave enough to pilfer from the stores of biscuits or demand cups of tea.

Other people’s lives would be greatly improved if they learnt to bend the rules a little, she’s sure.

Raza and Mattie are hanging out in Lupin’s office when they get there, though the man himself is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s-” Leo starts, eyebrows furrowing, when Lupin steps out of his office, a tatty piece of parchment clutched in his hand.

“Well, according to the, er, wards, they’re right-” he looks up, eyes widening as he catches sight of Astoria, Maisie and Leo. “Well, right here,” he finishes with a laugh.

Raza and Mattie spin around, and Mattie runs forwards to grip Maisie’s shoulders. “We didn’t know where you’d gone!”

“Rebels,” Raza tuts, grinning.

Lupin snorts softly, raising an eyebrow. “They were very insistent that I do everything in my power to find you.”

“As you should have done,” Astoria says haughtily, chin up. “We could have been dying in some tiny corridor, or we could have fallen through the trick step, or I could have collapsed and Maisie and Leo might not have been able to move me, or we could have been stopped by Snape, or-”

Leo slings an arm around her neck, bright smile dimming somewhat. “Stori, we were in the Hufflepuff common room.”

Astoria sniffs. “I’m still touched that they thought to look for us.”

Lupin sits down on his desk, running his fingers over the old parchment, and Astoria walks over to sit down next to Raza. His books are laid out over the desk they share in class, and Astoria flips a page over, wrinkling her nose at the descriptions of horklumps.

“We were just going over yesterday’s course material,” Lupin says mildly, “if you care to join.”

“Mattie and I have important things to be getting on with,” Maisie informs them, flicking her plait off her shoulder. “But you’re more than welcome to stay here, Astoria, we don’t need you.”

“Harsh,” Astoria says, blinking, “but fair, I guess. See you later!”

Leo leaves Maisie’s side to pull a chair up to their desk. “Horklumps? Ew.”

“Astoria, how can we defend ourselves against horklumps?” Lupin asks, waving as Maisie and Mattie leave.

Astoria’s face lights up. “Kick them!”

Chapter Text

The Easter holidays fly by and before anyone knows it, all of Hogwarts is thrust into panicked revision for the upcoming exams. There’s a high-strung tension in the air - the rapid duels between Slytherins and Gryffindors in the halls aren’t helping matters, but nor are the hair-trigger tempers on the teachers.

And while all her friends are practising their charms and transfigurations, Astoria’s got her head buried in her books, trying to distract herself from the magic flying around her with reading.

It doesn’t work - she’s never been studious, but after weeks with nothing to do but work, she finds herself unable to sit in place for longer than a few minutes. She’s getting on everyone’s nerves - Maisie’s impossible to talk to, Mattie’s always busy behind a cauldron, Leo’s realised how much work they have to revise, and even Raza’s unending patience is wearing thin.

Every student in school is feeling the same stress, which leaves Astoria with a distinct lack of people to talk to.

To make matters worse, her friends have started making excuses to study in different rooms from her, heads pressed together and whispering loudly. Astoria knows she’s not exactly the easiest to study with, but it hurts her a little that they take any opportunity to escape her.

Even Ginny’s taken to shooting her unsubtle glances over the table at mealtimes. Astoria just slouches in her seat and tries not to catch anyone’s eye.

She’s eating next to a silent Raza on a warm morning when Daphne gets up from the Slytherin table to walk over to her.

“Happy birthday, Stori,” she says, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “These are from me and Miss Stick, and Mother and Father’s gifts should be arriving tonight, I think.”

She hands Astoria two presents, immaculately wrapped with crisp edges and a shiny bow.

“Oh my God,” Astoria whispers, “I forgot it was my birthday!”

Daphne raises her eyebrows, and squeezes Astoria’s shoulder. “Have a good day, Stori.”

Astoria turns to talk to Raza, but stops herself, frowning. Her friends are busy. They don’t need her excitement bothering them.

Raza catches her hand, though, and turns her to face him. “Happy birthday, Astoria.”

He smiles at her, and tugs her hand. Astoria follows him, curious as to where they’re going.

They stop outside their study room classroom, and Lupin sticks his head around his classroom door.

“Happy birthday, Astoria!” he calls cheerfully, and she waves at him in confusion.

“How come all of you remembered?” she demands from Raza. “I mean, I forgot.”

He shrugs. “We asked Daphne when it was.”

Astoria’s mouth drops open. “What?”

Raza pulls open the door, and pushes Astoria inside.

The room is decked out with streamers and balloons, and there’s a large, lopsided cake on a table in the middle. Presents are stacked next to it, and someone’s made tiny balls of witchlight float up to illuminate the room. Maisie, Mattie, Leo, Ginny, Derek and Sophie are all standing together at the front of the room, grinning.

“Happy birthday!” they chorus, and Leo runs forwards to wrap her in a hug.

“I thought-” Astoria starts, sniffing. “I thought you were mad at me.”

Mattie frowns, picking up one of the presents. “We were trying to plan this for you without you finding out about it!”

“I gave up studying for this, Greengrass, you’d better be happy about it,” Maisie says, somewhat manically.

Astoria starts crying. “You guys are so nice.”

Raza sits her down, and Ginny comes over to sit across her lap, ruffling her hair. “Want some cake? It’s my mum’s recipe.”

Astoria nods fervently, and Sophie offers her a slice of cake. “I helped with the icing.”

The cake is lovely. It’s chocolate - Astoria’s favourite - and iced with tiny roses of frosting. All of them take slices, and Astoria has to laugh when Leo ends up with chocolate icing smeared in the corner of his mouth.

Daphne’s present to her - aside from helping her friends set up her wonderful, wonderful surprise party - is a delicate necklace with a teacup pendant on a golden chain. Astoria puts it on immediately, holding her hair so that Ginny can fasten the clasp.

Sophie and Derek have banded together to get her a new quill, presumably because they don’t really know Astoria that well. She doesn’t mind - the feather is red and patterned, and it’s very much to her taste.

Raza, on the other hand, knows her incredibly well. His present for her is a new pair of boots, which catches Astoria’s eye immediately, especially when he tells her that they’re steel-toed boots.

“For kicking!” she cheers, and Mattie puts his head in his hands, moaning.

“You made her more dangerous than she already is?”

Mattie and Maisie got her books, which is so very on point for them that Astoria has to give them both hugs, which is a little tricky with Ginny still draped across her. They match nicely with the science fiction Miss Stick sent, although Astoria’s a little worried that the library compartment in her trunk is swiftly running out of space.

Leo informs her that his gift is from Hannah as well, which makes sense when Astoria tears into it. It’s a mid-length red skirt, and Astoria’s certain that Leo wouldn’t have been able to pick out such a charming style or colour on his own. Obviously, the label indicates that it’s from her mother’s fashion catalogue - no one in the family shops anywhere else - and it’s something Astoria’s had her eye on for a while.

Ginny presents her with a tiny black notebook, pristine and leather-bound. “I kept a diary in my first year,” she explains. “It can be nice to have someone to talk to who doesn’t talk back.”

“I’ve got Raza for that,” Astoria quips, and reaches out to knock on Raza’s forehead. “I’d never given a diary much thought. Can I read yours?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“No,” Ginny says firmly. “And my mum made you this.”

Astoria inspects the squishy parcel with suspicion, and eventually gives in and opens it. The present is an oversized woollen jumper, in a soft bottle-green with a golden A on the front.

“It’s so soft,” Astoria marvels. “Maisie, come feel this!”

Maisie looks dubious, but runs her fingers over the material. “Oh my God, I need one.”

Astoria knows that Maisie finds the school jumpers far too itchy, but for whatever reason this wool is soft instead of scratchy.

“Mum makes all of us one every Christmas,” Ginny explains. “I told her how you’re always cold, and she insisted on making you one.”

Even Astoria’s a little too warm to wear a jumper right now - it’s May - but she cradles the jumper close to her anyway. “You guys are the best. This is the best birthday ever.”

“How do you feel being twelve?” Maisie asks, brightly.

Astoria sticks her tongue out. “Like I’m finally catching up to you.”

“Twelve isn’t that different from eleven,” Leo muses. “Raza, you’re the only eleven year old left! The rest of us are all twelve already.”

“Actually, I’m still eleven,” Sophie chips in. “And Derek.”

“Oh, when’s your birthday?” Astoria asks. “I know Raza’s is in July, and Ginny’s is August, but when are yours?”

Derek pushes his glasses up. “She’s the fourth of June and I’m the fifth.”

“Oh, like us!” Mattie cheers. “Maisie and I were born on the same day in the same hospital. October tenth.”

Astoria shakes her head. “Libras.”

Maisie shoves lightly at Astoria’s shoulder, and Ginny topples off onto the floor. “Oi, Reynolds, watch what you’re doing!”

“Sorry,” Maisie says, without remorse.

“Raza’s still the baby,” Leo teases, “out of everyone here he’s the littlest.”

Raza lifts Leo up and slings him over his shoulder, walking out of the room. Leo shrieks and pounds on his back, kicking his legs in the air. “Put me down! I take it back! You’re taller than everyone except me and you’re the strongest here!”

Lupin comes in, and levitates Leo off Raza with a lazy flick of his wand. “How’s your day going, Astoria?”

“Brilliantly,” she declares, grinning. “I thought they were mad at me! But they were planning a party!”

Lupin winks. “How far do you think birthday privilege will extend?”

“Oh, I’m getting Maisie on a broom,” she promises. “No studying today! We will relax if it kills me.”

“Here you go,” Lupin says, and hands her a box. “Have a good year, Astoria.”

The box is filled with chocolate frogs. Astoria squeals, and hugs it to her chest. “Best professor!”

She does manage to get Maisie on a broom. There are enough of them for four to a team, until both sets of twins turn up and challenge each other.

Astoria thinks their match might actually be more fraught than the upcoming quidditch final. On the Extended Greengrass-Goldstein-Abbott Family Team: Astoria as keeper, Ant and Anya as beaters, Leo and Derek as chasers, and Sophie as seeker. On the Extended Weasley-Reynolds-Jones Family Team: Raza as keeper, Fred and George as beaters, Ginny and Maisie as chasers, and Mattie as seeker.

Sophie’s better than Mattie, and Maisie is a handicap for the Weasleys, but all the Wealseys are more experienced than the others. Astoria’s better than Raza, and Leo and Derek are both fairly average chasers.

It’s a nail-biting fight. The twins spend more time bickering with each other than paying attention to the game, and Ginny stops trying to pass to Maisie five minutes in. Leo and Derek team up to batter Raza when they can steal possession of the quaffle, but most of the time it’s in Ginny’s hands, as she speeds like a demon down the pitch.

The points rack up for the Weasleys, but eventually Sophie manages to pluck the snitch out of midair where it’s hovering by Astoria’s hoops.

“Good game,” the Weasley twins tell Ant and Anya in unison.

“Of course-”

“-there’s no denying that we-”

“-are the superior beaters,” one of them insists.

“But you did manage-”

“-to give us a run for our money.”

Ant and Anya practically preen at the compliment, and Astoria has to laugh.

When Ginny lands, touching down gently on the shorn grass, she manages to look as if she hasn’t just nearly won a long, high energy quidditch game. She slings an arm around Astoria’s shoulders and surveys the pitch, where Mattie and Sophie are racing and Maisie has sat down firmly on the hard earth, Leo hovering nervously by her head.

“Having a good birthday, Astoria?”

“Of course,” she says. “I won in a game of quidditch, I got kicking boots, and it’s a glorious day. Nothing’s even gone wrong in a while! What could be better?”

Ginny just squeezes her shoulder. “I was in Egypt for my twelfth birthday,” she says, “I feel like that was better.”

“No way,” Astoria protests, “I’m here with all my friends. That beats Egypt any day.”

She sits down on her broom, leaning her head on Ginny’s shoulder, and watches the castle, content. As she watches, a small shape moves out of the castle and towards the pitch.

“Incoming?” she asks dubiously, squinting against the afternoon sunlight. In a few minutes, she recognises the shape as Daphne, arm in arm with Tracey Davis, her roommate and best friend.

“Happy birthday, Astoria!” Tracey exclaims when they’re in hearing range, and presents her with a small package. “Daph said it was your birthday and I thought I’d do something nice for you.”

“Thank you,” Astoria says, happily surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Aw, you’re Daph’s little sister, of course I did.”

The present is a pair of golden star earrings, and Astoria beams. It’s a very stylish choice, and her estimation of Tracey goes up considerably.

“Also, we came down here to tell you that Slytherin is going to crush Gryffindor in the final,” Daphne adds, smirking. “And to see how your day went?”

“The party was brilliant!” Astoria chirps. “My day’s been amazing.”

“She’s just been telling me how it’s better than Egypt,” Ginny says, and Astoria elbows her stomach.

“Because it is.”

Daphne softens, and reaches forwards to brush Astoria’s hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“I loved it,” Astoria says earnestly. “Thank you for helping them sort it out.”

Mattie swoops down like a bird of prey and skids in the grass, kicking up mud and turf, and stops by the four of them. “Are any of you up for a race with me, Sophie and Derek?”

“Absolutely,” Ginny says, hopping back on her broom. “Astoria, are you coming?”

Daphne takes Tracey’s hand, and waves at Astoria. “See you at dinner, Stori.”

Astoria beams. “Of course I’m coming!”

Maisie groans when she sees them take to the sky again. “Please, God, let me die.”

“Not coming?” Leo asks her, grinning.

“Never,” Maisie insists.

Raza flies up to Astoria, nudging her shoulder. “Wait for me?”

“Always,” Astoria proclaims, wrapping him in a one-armed hug. “This is the best birthday ever.”

Chapter Text

Astoria wears her new boots to defence, and eviscerates the hinkypunk Lupin brought for them to practise with. Maisie, the only one behind her in the line, breathes out an unsubtle sigh of relief.

“Not to worry,” Lupin says, as cheerfully as ever, though with a concerned look directed towards the hinkypunk corpse on the classroom floor. “There’s no need for Maisie to practise with another one, as though I had hoped to include this in the practical exam, Astoria’s quite kicked those plans to bits.”

“Sorry, sir!” Astoria says, smiling unapologetically.

She gets another chance to use her new boots when a spat breaks out between a group of second year Slytherins and Astoria and her friends. Megan’s not there, else it probably could have been broken up peacefully, but instead Astoria winds up kicking a cow-faced girl in the shins while Raza tries to figure out how to remove the tentacles from Derek’s face.

McGonagall finds them - the Slytherins screaming profanities at Astoria, Derek clutching at his broken glasses while tentacles hang from his nostrils, Raza a bastion of silent comfort by his side - and takes points away from both houses. Derek is the one she helps to the hospital wing, though, Astoria and Raza trailing behind.

“Please do try to solve your problems peacefully in the future,” McGonagall snaps to Astoria, “violence is never the answer.”

“Look at his face!” Astoria screeches, a tad hysterically. “We were just leaving herbology and they tried to maul us!”

“They didn’t try to maul us,” Raza sighs. “They ambushed us.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Derek says, although it comes out garbled and incomprehensible.

McGonagall sighs. “Well then. Ten points to Gryffindor for coming to the assistance of a fellow student, Miss Greengrass, and ten points to both Gryffindor and Slytherin for inter house unity, Mister Mohammud, Mister Sawyer.”

“Ace,” Astoria whispers to herself. “Thanks, professor!”

By the time they reach the hospital wing, Derek is trying to hide the fact that he’s crying a little, and Astoria feels guilty about not pummeling the Slytherins further for attacking her friend.

“Miss Greengrass, what on Earth are you in for now?” Madame Pomfrey tuts, and presses a hand to Astoria’s forehead.

“It’s not me,” Astoria whines, while the others laugh behind her. “Some Slytherins attacked us and they mauled Derek’s face.”

“Stop saying maul,” Derek tries to say, the tentacles flopping miserably.

“Goodness me,” Pomfrey says, and waves her wand. The tentacles disappear at once, but she still strong-arms Derek into sitting down on a bed and bustles off to find a potion for him.

Astoria sits down next to Derek, and runs a hand through his dark hair. “Please ask your parents to give you a better haircut for next year, Derek, you can’t keep being bowl-cut boy.”

Derek laughs a little wetly.

“Two days until the final,” Raza says bleakly. Astoria hums, doing her best to arrange the bowl-cut artfully.

“One and a half, really,” she muses. “The whole of tomorrow and then just Saturday morning.”

“Here you go, get this down you,” Pomfrey says as she returns, offering Derek a small vial. “And no more trouble out of you, understand?”

Astoria presses a hand to her heart. “You wound me.”

They do manage to stay out of trouble, though, and the morning of the final dawns, clear and still.

“We are going to win this,” Astoria insists. “We are going to take the quidditch cup. We are going to win this.”

“I believe you,” Raza groans, arm pressed over his eyes.

Astoria huffs. “You have no sense of house enthusiasm.”

“Nope,” Raza agrees, blindly reaching out.

His hand closes around a croissant and he bites into it aggressively, dropping flakes on his lap.

“Please,” Astoria says, strained. “Eat properly.”

Raza drops his arm and squints at the croissant. “This isn’t eggs.”

“It is not eggs!” Astoria says. “It is in fact the croissant I had set aside.”

“Liar, you never eat anything unprompted,” Raza mutters.

That’s accurate, but it doesn't mean Astoria appreciates being called out on her lies.

“Aren’t you excited for the match?” Astoria whines, refilling her goblet with pumpkin juice to wash away the taste of her potions. “It’s the quidditch final.”

Raza stabs at a piece of toast, tearing it brutally to pieces. “We have our first end-of-year exam in a week’s time, Astoria.”

Astoria shrugs. “Yeah, but it’s quidditch!”

He still hasn’t fully woken up by the time they reach the stands, but the tumultuous chatter of the entire school is enough to shake him out of his stupor.

Annabelle and Romilda are seated with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, looking in awe of the upper-years, so Astoria takes Raza’s hand and sits them down next to Sophie.

“We’re playing Slytherin, right?” Sophie says, fiddling with the tassels on her scarf.

Astoria stares at her. “Yes! It’s been all anyone can talk about for weeks, Sophie!”

Sophie blushes, and Raza pats her shoulder. “I’m just as lost.”

Astoria launches into an explanation on the statistics from the last few games, doing her best to detail the points standings and the most possible outcomes.

“And Harry Potter’s on a strong broom, and he’s been proven to be a better flyer than Malfoy - come on, we all know that - and you know it all comes down to the snitch anyway.”

Sophie blinks at her. “Actually, I didn’t. No one ever really… explained quidditch to me.”

“What a travesty,” Astoria declares. “Well, nine times out of ten the result of the match comes down to who catches the snitch first, which is why it’s so important that Harry Potter’s our seeker, because he’s incredible.”

She doesn’t have the chance to explain further, because the teams sweep onto the pitch, to frenzied cheering from the stands.

Three-quarters of the school cheers for the Gryffindor team, and the players preen under the applause.

What follows is the dirtiest match Astoria’s seen all year. Both teams are intent on putting the other into the ground. Malfoy and Potter look close to all-out duelling in the air. Astoria doesn’t think she’s ever seen Marcus Flint look so fierce.

The points stack up for Gryffindor - ten-zero, twenty-zero, thirty-zero - and Astoria’s practically on the edge of her seat, staring down the keepers and chasers in turn.

“So Harry Potter needs to catch the snitch, right?” Sophie asks, shading her eyes so she can look up to where the seekers are circling each other.

“Yes,” Astoria says. “And his stupid rivalry with Malfoy is either going to spoil our chances or kick him into high gear.”

Potter dives for the snitch and Astoria grabs at Raza’s shoulders, frantic - he loses it, Malfoy tugging at the end of his broom.

“Rivalry or crush?” Raza asks, pointing at the way Malfoy’s teasing Potter.

Astoria huffs. “No, Potter has a thing for Cho Chang, doesn’t he?”

“Just a thing for seekers,” Raza snorts, and shakes his head.

The points keep climbing up for Gryffindor. Seventy-twenty, eighty-twenty - Astoria taps Sophie’s shoulder. “We need to be fifty points ahead before Potter catches the snitch, or Slytherin wins the cup.”

Sophie nods, eyes wide. She raises a trembling finger. “Is that-”

Both seekers are diving, in a flat-out race for the snitch. Astoria clutches Raza’s hand.

Potter pulls ahead. Malfoy knocks at him. The whole stadium is on their feet, staring at the two seekers.

“POTTER GOT THE SNITCH!” Lee Jordan screams, and the stands explode with cheering. Malfoy twists away, face a mask of anger, and Potter drifts to the ground where students are already running to greet him with a hero’s welcome. “GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The elation lasts a week. Astoria walks on air the entire time, grinning whenever she sees the gleaming quidditch cup in their common room, and even deigning to wear her correct uniform one day out of house pride.

June approaches, sultry and inviting, and with it comes exam season. Astoria manages to convince her friends to study outside more often than not, and she lays in the long grass and absorbs the sunlight while the sounds of studying drift around her.

Astoria’s been excused from her charms and transfiguration practicals, and she can’t bring herself to dive into her books the same way the others have.

“Good luck,” Maisie tells her firmly on the day of their first exam, “I have every faith in you.”

“I don’t,” Astoria complains, and salutes her. “See you on the other side!”

Surprisingly, Astoria finds that the exams pass without her doing too badly. Sophie’s true understanding of the history classwork means she can actually dash off a few answers that have a ring of truth to them, and her prioritisation of theory over practice throughout the year means that she’s confident on her answers in the theory exams for her practical subjects.

Lupin’s obstacle course is a delight, and Astoria takes great pleasure in finishing quickly, and with a high mark, if his following grin is anything to go by.

After the first two days, Astoria finds herself alone while the others take their charms practical. The heat is oppressive and almost intolerable inside the castle, so she makes her way outside, kicking off her shoes and rolling up her trousers to wade into the Black Lake.

The water is blessedly cool after the pressing heat of the afternoon, and it laps at her ankles. The surface of the lake is an unbroken mirror, and the reflection of the clear sky stretches ahead as far as she can see.

There are a smattering of upper-years studying together on a knoll a little ways away, though no one Astoria recognises. She’s the only one in the lake, and she picks up a smooth, round stone, skipping it as far as she can.

It’s not very far. She’s not great at skipping stones.

“Don’t you have exams?” an airy voice asks her, and she turns around to see Luna, pulling off her shoes and walking into the lake to join her.

“I don’t have to sit the practicals,” Astoria explains. “Medical exemption.”

Luna nods. “I often come out here to converse with the giant squid.”

Astoria’s eyes widen. “You can talk to it?”

Luna reaches down for a stone, and skips it across the lake. Astoria is sure she uses magic for it, because the stone bounces across the lake far further than should be possible. It leaves ripples that linger on the surface of the lake, spreading gently out.

When the stone sinks into the water, a large shape rises up in response. Astoria’s never seen the giant squid so close, and its gigantic eye stares out at them.

From behind her, screaming.

“Hello!” Luna calls cheerfully, waving.

A tentacle rises out of the water, and flicks the tip. A spray of water falls across the lake, disturbing the surface with a hundred tiny ripples.

“Hi!” Astoria yells as well, grinning. “What’s it like down there?”

The squid’s tapered head wiggles and dips, and Astoria laughs.

“The Slytherins have a glass wall in their common room,” Luna explains, “so they can see into the lake at all hours.”

Astoria’s eyes widen. “That’s so cool! Damn, I should have gone to Slytherin.”

Luna laughs. “But you wouldn’t belong there.”

Astoria bends down to trail her hand through the water, musing on Luna’s statement. After a year of Hogwarts, she still doesn’t know if she agrees with the hat. Being a Gryffindor is more about community and friendship for her than representing any courage.

If houses are based on one’s values, Astoria’s probably more of a Hufflepuff, even though she’s not a particularly hard worker. She’s not sure she’s shown any particular courage this year, or been daring or chivalrous.

“Are you sure?” she asks, rubbing her fingers over the smooth rocks on the lake bed.

“Of course,” Luna insists. “The Slytherin common room is fairly dark and lit by the light from the lake. Cool colours wash you out.”

Astoria throws her head back and laughs.

“And you’re a very good Gryffindor as you are,” Luna says. “No one else is brave enough to be here talking to the giant squid with me, are they?”

“They’re also all in exams,” Astoria points out.

Luna smiles serenely. “So?”

Astoria nods, skipping a stone. It doesn’t reach anywhere close to the giant squid, but it sinks back down anyway, raising one tentacle in a farewell wave.

“I hope your exams go well,” Astoria tells Luna.

The summer breeze plays with their hair, haloing Luna’s face and tousling Astoria’s curls.

Luna traces circles on the surface of the lake. “And good luck to you, Astoria.”

Chapter Text

Astoria doesn’t get to finish her exams.

Two days before she’s supposed to be free of tests for the year, she finds herself shivering, despite the heat. She can barely concentrate through her herbology exam, and as soon as Raza sees the state of her, he strong-arms her to the hospital wing.

“What is it now, Miss Greengrass?” Pomfrey sighs. “Ill? Alright, come and lie down.”

Astoria wraps herself in her duvet and pouts at Pomfrey. “I could finish my exams.”

“I couldn’t allow that,” Pomfrey says, frowning. “You’ve been exerting yourself far too much. You need to relax and focus on getting better.”

Astoria reaches up to capture Raza’s hand, doing her best to think past the pounding in her head. “I’m going to die of boredom, Raza. I am.”

“We’ll avenge you,” he teases, brushing her hair away from her face. “Feel better soon.”

Astoria spends the afternoon staring out of the window, watching the tiny groups of people far below move about like ants. The giant squid makes an appearance, and Astoria waves, despite knowing that there’s no way it can see her.

The others are still busy with exams, but Raza drags Leo up to see her when they finish up for the day. Leo goes off on a tear about the exam, and much as Astoria does her best to pay attention, she finds herself slipping into the grips of swift sleep.

When she wakes up, still feeling ill and upset, Raza’s curled up and reading in the chair by her bedside.

“You stayed,” she croaks, and he looks up.

“Of course.”

“What about dinner?” Astoria asks, a little lamely. “You shouldn’t miss dinner just to keep me company.”

Raza laughs a little. “It’s not dinner yet, Astoria. I think Ginny’s planning to come up afterwards, as well.”

Astoria perks up a little, rolling over and kicking off the heavy duvet. “Tell her it would be much appreciated.”

Raza’s content to just sit in silence with her when she doesn’t feel up for idle chatter, which she finds herself incredibly grateful for. Despite being overjoyed to see one of her friends, she really doesn’t feel herself. Raza never judges when she can’t manage her normal witty banter, he never treats her like she’s made of glass, and she’s lucky to have him as a friend.

Unfortunately, he has to leave for dinner before too long. Astoria waves goodbye to him, feeling pathetic and sickly, and Pomfrey must feel bad for how pitiful she looks, because the menu for the evening is chicken noodle soup, which is slightly more exciting than the usual hospital wing fare.

True to her word, Ginny turns up after dinner, replete with her brother’s chess set.

“Ron’s ridiculous about chess,” Ginny complains, “but he’s been busy lately, so he didn’t seem to mind that I took it. Asked if you were any good. I said no, of course, because you’re terrible at chess.”

“Rude!” Astoria laughs, devolving into a coughing fit. She ducks her head when she catches a glimpse of the look on Ginny’s face. “Set it up, I’ll prove I’ve been getting better.”

Ron’s chess pieces yell at Astoria when she makes a somewhat ill-advised move, and though she’s loath to admit it, they do offer some decent advice.

Ginny’s teasing her by the end, with most of Astoria’s pieces sulking in the box, and Astoria’s king throws down his crown in defeat before Ginny can even check her.

“Come on, where’s your Gryffindor spirit?” she whines, poking her king, who shakes his fist at her.

Ginny snickers. “Time to give it up as a bad job, Astoria. Although, Harry normally plays that side, so I don’t know why they’re not already used to people playing terrible games of chess.”

Astoria shrugs. “I am quite miraculously bad, Gin.”

“I have faith in you!” Ginny announces brightly. “Play another round?”

They only have time for one more game before Pomfrey comes through and kicks Ginny out.

“Do you want to be caught out after curfew, Miss Weasley?” Pomfrey sighs. “You’ve never seen a rule you couldn’t break, it seems. I have far too many trouble-makers through these doors.”

Astoria nods fervently. “It’s true. Harry Potter, Professor Lupin, you and me… we just know that you’ll look after us, Madame Pomfrey.”

Pomfrey playfully swats at her head, grinning. “I’m not encouraging this behaviour, Miss Greengrass!”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Ginny grumbles. “Astoria, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here,” Astoria sighs. “Visit me?”

Ginny nods firmly, and leaves, the chess set tucked under her arm. Astoria slumps, and pulls the duvet over her head.

“Stop trying to suffocate yourself and there might be an ice lolly in it for you,” Pomfrey says.

Astoria grumbles under her breath, but sticks her head out, her curls awry. “What flavour?”

“Strawberry,” Pomfrey wheedles. “Cheer up, you’ll only be in here another day.”

“So I can sleep in Gryffindor tower tomorrow night?” Astoria asks hopefully.

“No.”

Astoria sticks her tongue out. Pomfrey takes it as an opportunity to stick a strawberry ice lolly in her mouth.

Her face must be comical, because Pomfrey shakes her head and laughs at her. “Get some rest, Miss Greengrass, and tomorrow will fly by.”

Astoria can’t reply, busy licking around the lolly before it drips on her pyjamas, but she wrinkles her nose at Pomfrey in lieu of a response.

The dying June light illuminates the evening, casting long shadows across the tiled floor and throwing the hospital wing into an eerie half-light. Astoria unwillingly falls asleep, and wakes twice in the night with shivering and headaches, the moonlight comforting her during the night.

The next day, Astoria’s locked in interminable boredom, broken only by the antics of the Weasley twins. Their OWLs must be over, because they send up incredible fireworks over the lake, to which Astoria has the best seats in the house.

Her friends come up and visit her as soon as they’ve finished, Maisie looking ready to fall asleep at any moment, the others radiant with happiness. Mattie deigns to sit still and let Astoria plait his hair, and Leo challenges Raza to a game of chess over who gets to sit in Astoria’s chair.

The afternoon stretches on, and Astoria’s doing her best to distract herself from Maisie’s impassioned rant about question seven on the astronomy exam when she spots movement down by Hagrid’s hut.

“Hey, what’s going on there?” she asks, effectively cutting Maisie off. She frowns, but wanders over to peer out of the window.

“That’s Dumbledore,” Maisie informs her. “I don’t recognise the others, though, they are very far away.”

Astoria tilts her head, squinting. “What’s that by Hagrid’s hut?”

Mattie throws his king down and huffs. “Raza, I swear you must have cheated.”

“Maybe you’re bad at chess,” Raza remarks.

“He beat me three times in a row,” Leo complains from where he’s leaning against Astoria’s bed.

“Oi, can we concentrate,” Astoria asks sharply. “There’s something happening.”

The boys scramble to join them at the window, and Leo presses a hand to his mouth. “That’s Buckbeak - you know, the hippogriff Hagrid’s been crying about all year? The one that mauled Malfoy?”

Astoria’s eyes widen as a tiny figure moves towards the pale grey smudge. “Hey, what’s going on?”

The figure stops by Buckbeak, and after some pushing and pulling, starts to lead it into the forest.

“That’s…” Maisie starts, brow furrowed. “I thought it was being executed.”

Sure enough, a few small figures exit Hagrid’s hut, and start bustling around the spot where the hippogriff was. Astoria watches in amazement as the pale shape of the hippogriff is led around the forest to a spot by the Whomping Willow.

“This is mad,” Mattie says. “Hold on, what’s that?”

There are more small figures - it’s getting harder to see as the sun’s setting - and a black shape knocks one down, and drags it towards the Whomping Willow.

“I don’t understand this at all,” Leo marvels. “Buckbeak was freed, some dog attacked a student, and- is that Lupin?”

A person that, according to eagle-eyed Leo is Lupin, is running flat out towards the Whomping Willow. Astoria frowns.

“What’s he up to? He’s got- responsibilities in the castle,” she says, flicking her gaze to the sky, and the full moon hiding behind the clouds.

“Dinner!” Pomfrey calls cheerfully. Astoria turns around, eyes wide.

“You can’t send them away! There’s something going on down there!”

Pomfrey frowns, taking note of all the children gathered around the window. “You need to get down to dinner, and Miss Greengrass, you need to stop worrying yourself. I’m sure there’s nothing going on outside.”

Astoria and her friends protest, but there’s no escaping Madame Pomfrey’s iron will. The others get sent down to dinner, and Astoria has to eat her soup alone, fuming and sneaking glances towards the grounds.

When she finishes her own dinner, she turns and settles down by the window, watching the quiet grounds intently. Madame Pomfrey tuts at her, but leaves her be, and so she’s alone while she watches a nightmare scene play out.

A tall person with black hair and a shorter, also black-haired figure leave the Whomping Willow, and then a red-headed person, a short, squat person, and a tall, fair-haired figure follow behind, with a dark-haired person and a pale cat bringing up the rear, another dark-haired figure floating along with them.

“What?” Astoria asks herself quietly, because she’s sure that that cat is Crookshanks, and so… the last person is Hermione, the ginger is Ron, and the others she recognises are Harry and Lupin. The three other figures she doesn’t know.

With mounting horror, she sees as the moon comes out from behind the clouds and Lupin stops. She’s struck with fear for her favourite professor, fear which only worsens when she sees him begin to transform.

The man with elbow-length black hair transforms into a huge black shape and flies at Lupin. The squat man disappears, somehow, leaving the three children and the floating man.

Astoria has no clue what’s going on.

The figure she thinks is Harry suddenly pelts towards the lake, and Astoria looks past him to see a horde of black shapes descending on a prone figure.

She screams. Pomfrey comes running in, face a mask of worry.

“Astoria!”

Astoria points down at the grounds. “Werewolf! Dementors! Madame Pomfrey, you have to do something!”

Pomfrey stiffens, staring out of the window. “It can’t be.”

The dementors float towards Harry, Hermione and the man. Astoria can’t tear her eyes away. Just as it seems there’s no hope for them, a shining white shape scatters the dementors.

The man who had been floating goes over to shake the bodies of the figures on the lake, and Astoria finally recognises him as Snape.

“I’ll get set up,” Pomfrey says quietly. “Astoria, you’re not to say a word about this to anyone. Not even your friends.”

“But-” she starts, and has to stop at Pomfrey’s raised hand.

“I mean it, Astoria. And stay out of the way tonight.”

Pomfrey draws the curtains around Astoria’s bed. She sits on her bed, hands twisted in her sheets, and keeps quiet.

There’s a commotion soon enough, and Astoria gets to her feet, staring out of the gap in her curtains.

Harry, Ron and Hermione are deposited on hospital beds, and Pomfrey begins to fret around them. More interesting to Astoria, though, is Minister Fudge and Professor Snape, who begin to talk in low tones just outside the hospital wing.

Astoria doesn’t believe a word of what Snape’s saying about Harry, Ron and Hermione. Unfortunately, the Minister seems to. When Harry jumps up to defend Sirius Black, of all things, she shakes her head. Maybe he has been confunded.

Pomfrey’s an absolute star, but Dumbledore forces her out of the hospital wing and into her office. Astoria feels righteously angry on her behalf, but it soon falls away in her curiosity for what on earth is going on.

Amazingly, Dumbledore believes Harry and Hermione about Sirius Black’s innocence, and gives them some incomprehensible instructions.

It’s when Hermione throws her necklace over Harry’s neck and they disappear that Astoria realises she’s gone mad.

“I don’t know either, Ron,” Astoria whispers, feeling sympathy for how he’s been left behind.

Harry and Hermione burst in through the door, looking dishevelled and triumphant. Astoria pulls her curtains back.

“What the hell have you been up to?”

They only have a moment to look in surprise at her before Snape’s scream echoes in from outside.

“Later,” Hermione promises, “Astoria can you cover for us?”

Feeling horribly criminal, Astoria tells Snape that they’ve been in the hospital wing the entire time, and flinches at his shrieking.

“Professor Snape, you are disturbing my patients,” Pomfrey says firmly. “Kindly leave.”

Snape whirls away, leaving Astoria to stare at the others in intense judgement.

“I’d really like to know what’s going on.”

Chapter Text

Harry tentatively explains what he can about Sirius Black, and Astoria listens with wide eyes and an open mind. Pomfrey thinks they’re asleep, so Astoria does her best not to make her usual dramatic exclamations of surprise, even though the story is shocking.

Apparently, Sirius Black is innocent, Peter Pettigrew is a traitor, a servant of Voldemort, and on the run, and Snape’s on the warpath.

Astoria nods decisively. “We’ll simply have to put you in touch with the family lawyers.”

Harry and his friends stare at her.

“Sorry, Astoria, what was that?” Hermione asks tentatively.

“I’ll put you in touch with the family lawyers,” Astoria explains. “Ted’s our lawyer but I’m sure he’d be more than happy to represent Sirius Black, they’re practically family, after all. Veritaserum and legilimency would be appropriate in this situation - I doubt Snape will want to testify, but he can’t fake a memory.”

“You would do that?” Ron asks, confused. “Why?”

Astoria bristles. “Well, to save an innocent man from Azkaban. I hope you don’t think so harshly of me that you think I’d just let him go back to prison.”

“What Ron means to say is that there’s no obligation,” Hermione covers quickly. “We’re just a tad mixed up on why you would… you know. Incur personal risk with no personal gain.”

Astoria shrugs. “It’s the right thing to do.”

And so, the next morning, she writes to Andromeda to ask for her husband’s services in representing Sirius Black.

Unfortunately, she has to set more schemes in place as soon as she’s finished sorting out the Sirius Black situation. Snape, in a more vengeful move than Astoria could have expected, outs Professor Lupin as a werewolf.

Astoria goes to him as soon as she finds out, Raza and Leo hot on her heels, and by the time she gets to his office he’s already started packing.

“You can’t leave!” she insists, crossing her arms.

Lupin turns around, looking weary, and Astoria bites her lip. “Astoria, I’m so sorry that I can’t stay.”

It’s horribly embarrassing. Astoria thinks she might be about to cry. “But you’re the best teacher here.”

“I can’t keep teaching now people know I’m a werewolf,” Lupin explains, voice heavy. “Parents have already been sending letters saying that I’m unsafe.”

“You’re not,” Leo insists loyally. “We all think you’re brilliant.”

Lupin smiles briefly. “Be that as it may, it’s clear that the provisions Professor Dumbledore set in place aren’t foolproof. The situation is untenable. And there’s nothing you can do,” he says firmly, looking at Astoria.

“Surely-” she starts, but wilts under his gaze. “But you’re our favourite teacher.”

That seems to please Lupin, but even Astoria can see that he’s resigned. She frowns. “Where are you going to go?”

Lupin shrugs, tired. “I don’t know. There aren’t many places that would employ a werewolf.”

He offers them biscuits and chocolate - evidently the last things to be packed - but their hearts aren’t in it. Astoria only manages three biscuits, which is a far cry from the number she usually manages to steal.

“Have a good summer,” Lupin says. “And if your defence teacher next year isn’t up to scratch, you can always write to me.”

That gives Astoria an idea.

Her friends want nothing more than to lounge around in the sun, to finally soak in the relaxation they missed out on during exams, but Astoria finds herself busy with her own workload.

The teachers aren’t bothering to have her re-sit the exams - they’re first years, it’s not as if the exams are vastly important - but she’s insistent on managing the wrongs society seems to have impressed. She sends letter after letter, and in a few days’ time she gets stopped by her friends on the way to the Owlery.

“Astoria,” Maisie says. “We’re holding another intervention.”

Raza grins. “This shouldn’t be so frequent.”

“You have sent,” Leo starts, and unrolls a piece of parchment, “seventeen letters in the last three days.”

“I haven’t even sent one,” Mattie chips in.

Astoria frowns, running her fingers over the letter in her hand. “I need to get this sent off.”

“Astoria, please,” Maisie sighs. “No more letters.”

She doesn’t send any more letters, although she finds it hard to relax in the same way as the others. Mattie stages a water fight by the lake that she unequivocally loses - the others have the opportunity to cast water spells while Astoria has to rely on her bare hands.

Leo, on the other hand, can’t swim, but he is quite spectacular with his splashing.

By some stroke of luck - and, Astoria suspects, a not small amount of help from the quidditch cup - Gryffindor wins the house cup. Their last feast takes place in a Great Hall decked out with red and gold banners, and it feels to Astoria like the best meal she’s had at Hogwarts all year.

The last night she spends in her dormitory, she’s kept up by Romilda and Annabelle’s whispering. Sophie claimed a headache to get an early night, but Astoria can’t get to sleep with the frantic giggles and gossip going on next to her.

To be honest, her dormitory doesn’t feel quite like home to her. It’s never truly become her bed - she’s fallen asleep in Raza’s bed, or in Ginny’s dorm, or even in the common room more often than she’s slept a night in her bed in the dormitory. Most of all, the one place that feels like a sanctuary to her is her bed in the hospital wing - it’s got photos of her friends, pretty decorations, and no chattering girls to bother her.

Astoria suddenly has a grand idea.

Sneaking into Raza’s dorm is easy - she’s done it a hundred times already, and his dormmates are more than used to seeing her in their room. He’s grumpy that she’s woken him, but comes along with her without too much protestation.

It takes them a while to make it to the Hufflepuff common room, and luckily for Raza, Astoria remembers how Kevin got them in. Leo screams a little when he wakes up to see their faces staring down at him, but luckily his roommates are very deep sleepers.

Leo’s a little less content to follow them, but he turns a blind eye when Astoria steals one of the Hufflepuff quilts and wears it like a cape.

“You’re a good partner in crime,” Astoria whispers to him, grinning, and he gives in.

The Ravenclaw tower is the one place Astoria hasn’t managed to get into yet, but she knows where it is. She’s banking on being able to guess the password, and is somewhat thrown for a loop when the knocker starts giving them riddles.

“What is always with you but never speaks?”

Astoria frowns. “That’s ridiculous. There are plenty of answers. I mean, your shadow, your past, your memories…”

“All acceptable answers,” the knocker says, and the door swings open.

“Wait,” Leo says. “Hey, door knocker. Want to hear a joke? It’s almost like a riddle.”

“Go on,” the knocker says, the door trembling.

“What time is it when an elephant sits on a fence?”

The knocker’s bronze wings flutter. “I… don’t know.”

“Time to get a new fence!”

Astoria giggles. Raza sticks his hand up.

“I got mugged by six dwarves today. Not happy,” he says in a practised tone.

“Ooh, ooh, I’ve got one!” Astoria chirps. “Hold on, this one’s from Maisie. It’s non-magical so you might not understand,” she tells the knocker earnestly. “Why are there no drugs in the rainforest?”

If an inanimate object could look incredulous, the door-knocker would be managing it. “Why are there no drugs in the rainforest?”

“Because the parrots-ate-’em-all!”

The knocker starts cackling. “I should have non-Ravenclaws by more often! Have a good night, kids.”

They collect Mattie and Maisie without further issue, and Astoria explains the plan.

“I think we should have a sleepover for our last night together,” she whispers breathlessly. “And we can’t have it in any of our dorms because of our dormmates, so I had the idea that we could have it in the hospital wing.”

“A sleepover sounds fun,” Leo says. “Let’s go quickly, then.”

They push the beds together and Astoria steals a few extra blankets from Pomfrey’s cabinet. Mattie and Maisie huddle together under a duvet, teaching Leo how to make a blanket fort.

“You are so lucky,” Astoria insists. “Daphne never made blanket forts with me.”

“Shame we don’t have a TV in here,” Mattie sighs. “I could show you all an episode of Doctor Who.”

Leo raises his eyebrows. “Let’s stick to normal things!”

“Doctor Who is normal,” Maise and Mattie say in unison, and then high-five.

“What do people normally do on sleepovers?” Astoria asks, lying down on top of Maisie. “Hey, is this alright?”

“Yep,” Maisie sighs. “Pressure is good.”

“Chat about boys,” Mattie says. “Play games. Want to play truth or dare?”

“Astoria, truth or dare,” Raza says immediately. Astoria pouts.

“Dare.”

They spend the night in a similar fashion. By the time Astoria drops off to sleep, Leo’s admitted that he was the one who broke Snape’s inkwell - an infraction that Mattie earned detention for - and Mattie’s hair is neon pink as the result of a dare.

Pomfrey chases them all out the next morning, scolding them and laughing at them in equal parts, and Astoria thinks that there can’t have been a better way to round off her first year.

The train ride home seems far shorter than the train ride to Hogwarts was, and Astoria can’t help but wonder if there’s a little magic helping them along the way. She almost doesn’t want the train ride to end - she’s spent a year seeing her friends every day, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to function relying only on letters for two months.

On the other hand, she is excited to see what’s become of her plotting.

When the train begins to pull into the station, Astoria’s first to try and climb halfway out of the window, waving manically. Her parents catch sight of her and her mother starts to cry.

“I’ll see you over the summer,” Astoria insists when she sinks back into the carriage. “You all have to come over. Raza I had better be invited to your birthday party or so help me-”

“Obviously we’ll visit, now go on and leave us in peace,” Maisie snaps, grinning. “Have a good holiday, Astoria.”

Astoria salutes her, wipes away a stray tear - good grief she’s becoming her mother - and grabs her trunk. “Write! As soon as you get home!”

“Go!” Mattie laughs. Astoria drags her trunk behind her and hurries off the train, running straight into the ready embrace of her parents.

“It’s good to see you, flower,” her father says. “Now come and tell us all about your year.”

Daphne’s a little more leisurely in disembarking, and a little more reserved in discussing what she’s been up to, but she’s greeted with the same teary reception from their parents, something Astoria can tell she’s pleased about.

Instead of apparating off immediately like most of the wizarding families, their parents lead Daphne and Astoria towards the muggle side of Kings’ Cross, and Astoria spots a familiar face waiting in the car park.

“Miss Stick!”

Apparently she got off university just before and volunteered to drive the family down to the Greengrass estate. It’s somewhat of a tight fit - Astoria’s squished in the middle seat between her sister and her mother - but Miss Stick plays music for them and luckily they don’t live too far away.

There’s another surprise waiting for Astoria when she gets home. Sat around the dining table are Professor Lupin, Sirius Black, and Andi and her family.

“Hello,” Astoria says slowly.

Miss Stick rushes forwards and greets Andi’s daughter with a very intimate hug. Astoria’s eyes widen.

“Astoria! It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Ted says, breaking the awkward silence. He gets up and shakes Astoria’s hand, and she blushes, pleased to be treated like an adult. “This is Mr Black. He’s currently staying with us awaiting his trial, but he wanted to meet you.”

Astoria’s parents have firm hands on her shoulders, and she feels brave enough to wave at the escaped convict.

“Harry Potter says you’re innocent,” she says. “Innocent people deserve good lawyers. How did the Ministry take it? What’s the situation? I mean, are you likely to get off?”

Sirius Black has a very wide-eyed stare. “Thank you,” he says, voice hoarse.

“With Ted’s skills and Gerry doing publicity at the Prophet, it’s very likely,” Andi explains. “Sirius should be a free man before you start your second year.”

Astoria nods, pleased. “And Professor Lupin! It’s good to see you!”

“I daresay you’ll be seeing a little more of me,” he says, smiling. “Your parents have offered to employ me as a magical tutor.”

“Your friend Raza has a younger sister, doesn’t he?” Astoria’s mother asks. “Perhaps she could benefit from a magical tutor while you’re at school.”

“So it worked?” Astoria asks. “All the letters? It worked?”

Sirius Black gives a barking laugh. “Remus is employed and I’m getting a trial. Kid, you’re incredible.”

“That’s Astoria,” Daphne says. “Over-inflated sense of justice and generosity.”

Astoria beams, surveying the room. She’s never not going to be proud of having a sense of justice, not if it means she can reunite Andi with another decent Black, or give Professor Lupin a good chance at employment.

“I’m going to go to my room now,” she informs her parents. “I need to write my friends. And we had better start preparing for next year. I’m going to need new books, and more uniform options, and I’m a little worried I might outgrow my steel-toed boots.”

Her father shakes her head. “Go on, Stori. Be down for lunch in an hour.”

Astoria gives him a quick hug. “It’s good to see you all, but I can’t wait for next year!”