Of The Stars || a collection ||

A Beautiful Heart

August 1993

"Papa, I can't do it." Astoria stressed morosely as tears brim her bright green eyes. She looked down at her wand in disappointment. She's never hated anything more than the little stick that she deems ever so useless now.

Given, Astoria had just received the rosewood, dragon heartstring wand from Ollivanders about a month ago. But since then, her parents have been teaching her basic spells in advance as she had requested.

The moment Astoria received her Hogwarts letter, she wanted nothing more than to know every bit of magic she can beforehand. She grew up in the company of books—spell books on charms, hexes and potions. It was all she ever wanted; to produce her own magic to make someone smile. Though she's succeeded in a fair bit few, she hasn't been quite successful in producing the patronus charm.

Her father said that it was extremely advanced magic, way beyond the levels of an incoming first year like her. But her parents had decided to take extra precaution this year with the escape of mass murderer Sirius Black. Astoria didn't think a patronus would be much help in defeating a murderer like Black. If anything, it'd just blind him temporarily before he'd manage to pounce on her.

Of course, she had argued this logical occurrence with her parents. But as soon as they mentioned that Dementors were to be stationed at the school—that's when she pulled up the drive to practice the charm.

Dementors were deathly terrifying, as far as Astoria has read of them. Though she's never seen one, it was always best to be equipped for a situation as such. It was only then, at the mention of Dementors, did she start doubling her efforts.

But try as she may, to double such efforts, she couldn't possibly do.

Astoria has tried every single happy memory she could think of: her first time eating chocolate, her first trip to her homeland, Greece, her and her sister playing in the fields of Greengrass manor, the first time she's fully read a book on her own. Oh, how she dug for all of it; but no amount of hardship into the happiest thoughts she could find seemed to work. Nothing came to her for over a month of trying to produce one.

"I'm sorry, papa." Twelve-year old Astoria sobbed considerably, every limb in her body exhausted as she threw her wand onto the warm grass. Then, with very little graced, plopped her little body down next to it.

A failure. That's what she was. A complete, utter failure—the spare, the little Greengrass that wasn't meant to be. "I'm sorry I failed you again. I can't do it. I just can't. I'm not like—"

"You're not like Daphne?" Her father asked warmly as he, too, sat on the grass before her.

Cepheus Greengrass had always been a firm father, but never quite as firm as Cassandra Greengrass, her mother. He was far more open, far more loving and caring than that of his wife. That is why her father was her favorite, and to disappoint him meant that she was never going to be anything in the wizarding world.

He offered her a piece of sweet wrapped in aluminum foil, one of her favorites—Chocoballs.

Astoria took the piece from him, unwrapped it and quickly popped the sweet into her mouth. The sweet filling of strawberry mouse filled her taste palette, making her feel just a tad bit better. She sniffed right after, trying to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand clumsily.

"Daphne's always going to be better than me." Astoria mumbled in a small voice. "She always has been. I tried to be like her. I really did."

"Why are you trying to be someone you're obviously not, my little star?" Cepheus said as he tried to get a glimpse of her, but Astoria trailed her eyes away; scared to make eye-contact with him. She heard him sigh before her, and she cringed at the assumption that it was a sigh of disappointment. "Can you tell me a time when either I or your mother asked you to be like Daphne?"