Lumos

With the start of term came a sense of panic over Felicity’s otherwise cheerful mindset. The holidays, it seemed, had renewed Sebastian’s determination to communicate with Felicity. He began to try heading her off between classes, having somehow memorized her schedule, but Felicity was nearly always accompanied by Ulric and Neville and this discouraged Sebastian from properly confronting her.

This both relieved and frustrated Felicity; was he respecting her privacy or merely ashamed to look friendly with her in front of witnesses?

Felicity’s stress factor rose ever higher as the professors began to pile loads of homework on the unwitting first years.

“But exams are ages away!” protested Felicity one evening when Ulric insisted they quiz each other on History of Magic timelines.

“Only three months!” Ulric exclaimed, somewhat frantic. “And you still can’t name the most important ingredients of a Forgetfulness Potion!”

“Snape will probably fail me anyway,” Felicity said with a shrug. “What’re you on about, anyway? The professors all love you.”

“No, they don’t.”

“You’re right. Your Astronomy’s complete rubbish.”

“Yeah, my Astronomy’s ‘rubbish’,” he snorted. “And exactly how many subjects are you failing, pray tell?”

Flushing pink, Felicity chose to bury herself behind her copy of Magical Drafts and Potions rather than answer. After that, Felicity began to spend her study time in the library with Neville, who seemed to be avoiding the common room. Felicity expected this was because he, like her, was sick of Ulric’s (and, admittedly, Hermione’s) constant harping on about exams.

One particular afternoon, Felicity found Neville sitting alone in the corner of the library. The moment he spotted her, Neville waved her over.

“Hello,” said Neville, beaming as Felicity sat down next to him. “Thank goodness you’re here. Could you help me? I don’t understand this essay at all…”

“Potions?” Felicity assumed, leaning over to examine the piece of parchment in front of Neville.

“It’s rubbish, isn’t it?” he asked woefully.

“It’s not rubbish...but you’ve misspelled your name. Unless you haven’t told me your nickname’s Neeville.”

“Oh, bloody-” Neville furiously scratched out his name and corrected it. Tapping his wand absently on the table, he asked, “What are the other ingredients in a Forgetfulness Potion?”

Felicity, biting back the urge to say I forgot, which had become her standard response whenever Ulric asked, spouted off, “Lethe river water, Valerian sprigs, and mistletoe berries.”

Neville pursed his lips. “I always forget the mistletoe.”

“Most boys do,” joked Felicity.

Neville was about to respond when, quite suddenly, a tap of his wand set the corner of Neville’s Potions book on fire. Felicity shrieked as Neville tumbled out of his chair. Felicity shrieked and snatched up the nearest piece of parchment and began to beat the fire until it was snuffed out.

Madam Pince was upon them a second later, looking ready to breathe fire herself. “No magic in the library!” she snapped, snatching away Neville’s wand. He looked miserably at Felicity as they both took their seats again.

Looking down at the table, Neville moaned, “Oh, no.”

“What is it?”

“My essay. You’ve used it to put out the fire.”

Felicity frowned over Neville’s scorched parchment. “Sorry, Neville. I’ll help you rewrite it.”

Neville threw aside his quill. “It’s no use. Snape’s going to give me a month’s detention when he reads the rubbish I turn in, anyway.”

Biting her lip, Felicity pulled a piece of parchment from her bag and slid it in front of Neville. “Here, use mine. Just rewrite it so it’s in your hand.”

“No, I...I couldn’t.”

“Go on, Neville. Snape’s a bully and you can’t be expected to do decent work if you’re being terrorized all the time. It’s unfair and I want to help.”

“You’re mental,” said Neville, his tone baffled but appreciative. “Absolutely mad.”

Felicity didn’t reply, as she’d just spotted Sebastian lurking in the Restricted Section. “I’ll see you later,” she muttered, snatching up her bags and hurrying from the library - between Sebastian and Ulric’s History of Magic quizzes, she’d take the quizzes.

The corridors were particularly chilly and Felicity shivered the instant she stepped into the cold. It was mostly abandoned, as most students sought shelter from the cold in their respective common rooms. Felicity didn’t envy the Gryffindor Quidditch team, which was currently holding practice. Although, as the temperature dropped with the sun, they may have ended practice early to save the players from becoming frozen to their brooms.

So lost in thought about the upcoming match - Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff - Felicity didn’t notice someone else walking down the corridor until they had bumped right into each other. She stumbled but continued to trudge down the corridor until she heard a loud voice say, “Watch it, Mudblood.”

Felicity froze, recognizing the voice, and wheeled around. Malfoy had paused and was sneering at her. His pale face was tinted pink from the cold but his eyes were as vicious as ever.

“What did you call me, Malfoy?” Felicity demanded.

“You heard me, Mudblood.”

She wasn’t sure what to do. She had never been called a Mudblood and wasn’t quite sure what it meant, but she did know, if it was coming from Malfoy, it definitely wasn’t a compliment.

“Off to the library, Malfoy?” Felicity asked pointedly. “Can’t rely on all the teachers to favor you, can you?”

Malfoy’s already flushed cheeks darkened. “I’m helping Crabbe. He’s even worse at Transfiguration than you are.”

If it had been anybody else, Felicity would’ve let it go; it might have been an innocent joke. But there was nothing but malicious dislike in Malfoy’s expression as he awaited Felicity’s response.

Before she knew what she was doing, Felicity had drawn her wand and was holding it inches in front of Malfoy’s nose. “”Say something else,” she whispered. “Go on, Malfoy. Say something clever.”

Malfoy glared at Felicity, but didn't dare say another word with his precious face at risk. The moment stretched, longer and longer, but neither of them broke eye contact. Finally, reluctantly, Malfoy took a step back.

“You’ll get yours, Muggle-lover,” spat Malfoy, then he turned on heel and hurried away.

Felicity was livid. How could someone be so unpleasant? It seemed that hatred like that shouldn’t even be fathomable at their age or, indeed, at any age. How loathsome Felicity thought she would find herself if she were to prance around like Malfoy, sneering down his ugly nose at people with an expression as if he smelled something foul.

She was so angry that she went the wrong way twice on the way back to the common room and found herself standing just outside the forbidden corridor on the third floor. There was no one around, not a single soul in sight and Felicity was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to know what lay behind the forbidden door.

What could be so dangerous, yet must be kept within the school? What could be dangerous compared to trolls loose in the corridors and a sport with a ball that attacked people and a forest on the grounds full of countless monsters?

Compelled so strongly, Felicity couldn’t seem to help herself as she reached out a pale hand to the door handle. The brass was like ice beneath her fingers. She hesitated; took a deep breath; pulled.

The door didn’t budge, but remained firmly locked in place. For a long moment, Felicity tried to remember a spell to unlock things. Hermione had mentioned it once - Altomora? Alocamorta? Alo…? But, try as she might, Felicity couldn’t remember the spell.

Once more, Felicity looked around for any teachers or prefects; when she knew she was completely alone, she stepped closer to the door and lay her head against the wood. At first, she heard nothing. Then an odd sound met her ear; something was rustling inside. It sounded like a bag of flour being dragged across a stone floor. Then there was a muffled sound of air being expelled from somewhere; it was like something enormous had let out a tired snort. But what could make a sound like that?

Images of great beasts popped into Felicity’s head and she recoiled from the door as though it might rocket off its hinges at any moment. Then her heart sank horribly as she remembered hearing something; a hushed conversation between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“––tried to get past that three–headed dog on Halloween.”

Felicity took a moment to wipe her sweaty palms on the inside of her robes. Could there really be such a thing as a three-headed dog? Could that really be what was inside the forbidden corridor? They had said it was guarding something, but what would be so important, and who would want to steal it?

Snape, she recalled. They’d mentioned Snape. Of course, she disliked Snape and wouldn’t put it past him to do cruel and unjust things...but to steal from Dumbledore? Felicity couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.

This is nonsense, she told herself. What does it matter if there’s a dog or if it’s guarding something? You’ve got enough to deal with already without sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. And, with that, she turned and strode back down the corridor, toward the stairs. She didn’t let herself think of anything but her Potions essay until she was in the common room.

Ulric was nowhere in sight, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all gathered around one table, heads bent over an enormous, dusty old book. They were whispering excitedly about something and Felicity felt another surge of curiosity. Just what had they found out now? Had they discovered what the dog was guarding; perhaps found proof that Snape was trying to steal it?

Deciding she couldn’t trust herself not to eavesdrop, Felicity hurried upstairs to the girl’s dormitory and climbed into bed with her copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Quidditch .However, every time she put the book down and tried to go to sleep, she found that her eyes simply wouldn’t stay closed. She listened to the other girls coming to bed; first Lavender, then Parvati, and finally Hermione. Felicity listened carefully and distinctly heard the muffled thump of something be dropped into a trunk - was it the book they’d been reading from?

The minutes dragged by, but still Felicity couldn’t sleep. The book in Hermione’s trunk seemed to be whispering to her, attempting to lure her from the safety of her bed. Could one little peek really hurt?

No, Felicity told herself. It’s none of your business, and you don’t need to be caught going through Hermione’s trunk. Just let it go. But, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself to forget about it, Felicity found no sleep that night.