Lumos

Felicity was quick to learn that magic was not all fun and fantasy. First, you had to get to your classes on time, made difficult by the hundred and forty-two staircases of Hogwarts Castle that liked to change. On her very first day, Felicity sank knee-deep in a step halfway up a stairway on her way to the Great Hall.

“Bloody...hell…” Felicity had muttered, bracing her hands on either side of her and attempting to drag herself out, to no avail. Fortunately, the Weasley twins had just been passing and George - or was it Fred? - grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her to her feet.

“Don’t feel bad,” he’d told her, “everyone falls for it at some point.”

Felicity had said a blushing thank you and then hurried off to find Ulric, who’d left the common room five minutes before her.

Things didn’t get any easier once you’d found the classes. Felicity had been under the impression that you just waved a wand and said some funny words, but she was far from the truth. History of Magic was the most boring class, as it was taught by a ghost who, Felicity suspected, didn’t even realize he was dead. He droned on and on about Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball - “Ulric the Oddball,” Felicity had whispered jokingly to Ulric - while they scribbled down endless notes.

Felicity found refreshment in Herbology - anything to do with plants fascinated her. Even Neville seemed a little more at east in the damp greenhouse. He clammed up, however, in Transfiguration class as he was prompt to set his match on fire instead of turning it into a needle like they were supposed to be doing.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned out to be a load of dung. Quirrell’s classroom reeked of garlic and everyone thought him a fraud - when asked about how he fought off a zombie in Africa, he turned pink and started talking about the weather. When Felicity asked George at lunch whether Quirrell was completely sane, he told her that he was trying to ward off a vampire he’d met in Romania and that his turban was stuffed with garlic so that he was protected everywhere he went.

Felicity wasn’t quite sure if she believed this, but she forgot about it when Fred turned up and remembered that she still owed him a nasty hex and immersed herself in Ulric’s copy of Curses and Counter-Curses.

Wednesday at midnight, the Gryffindors trooped up to the top of the Astronomy tower to study the night skies - Ulric wasn’t much good at it and often grumbled about it being a waste of time, especially when he had to wake up early on Thursday mornings. Charms was easily his favorite class - he was a natural and could answer any question tiny Professor Flitwick asked, although he could hardly get an answer in edgewise with Hermione’s hand shooting into the air every chance she got.

Friday morning, as Felicity and Ulric were leaving the Great Hall after breakfast, a snide voice called to them from the entrance to the dungeons, “Hey, Muggle-Lover.”

It was Katrina. She crossed over to them and blocked their path to the stairs, standing with her hands on her hips. Felicity looked around - she could hear the low rumble of voices from the Great Hall, but the Entrance Hall was deserted.

“So, James,” said Katrina. “How’s it feel, being such a disappointment to your family? Well, I suppose you can’t really help it, with all that bad blood you ended up with.”

“Do you mind?” asked Ulric irritably. “We’re trying to get to class.”

“Got yourself a boyfriend already, James?” Katrina smirked, looking Ulric up and down. “Quite the step down from Sebastian, don’t you think?”

“What are you talking about?” Felicity demanded.

Katrina scoffed. “Don’t be thick. Anyone can see you fancy my boyfriend.”

Blushing - with anger, she assured herself - Felicity said, “I do not fancy him. He’s a coward and a… a…” She couldn’t think of a word strong enough, so instead she said, “I don’t care if I never speak to him again and I really don’t care about talking to you. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to class before I waste another minute listening to this rubbish.”

Felicity went to step around Katrina, who called after her, “That’s right, Muggle-Lover. Run away, just like your disgraced mother.”

Ulric smacked into Felicity, who had stopped dead. “Felicity,” he said gently, attempting to push her forward. He saw her draw her wand. “Felicity, don’t-”

But Felicity ignored him, whipping around and sending red sparks at Katrina. The third-year deflected the spell with a casual flick of her wand and retaliated, “Locomotor Wibbly!”

“Move!” Ulric shouted, elbowing Felicity out of the way. Katrina’s spell hit him and he toppled to the floor, unable to stand on his own legs. Before Katrina could try another spell, Ulric had propped himself up on one arm and shouted, “Furnunculus!

The spell hit Katrina in the face and she doubled over as enormous, grotesque pimples began to sprout across her cheeks. She ran her hands over her skin and let out a wail of anguish when she felt the blemishes all over her beautiful face. Covering it with her hands, she fled toward the stairs and, presumably, the Hospital Wing.

“Are you alright?” asked Felicity, helping Ulric to his feet. He leaned heavily on her, but remained upright despite his wobbling legs.

“I’ll be fine, once I look up the counter curse. Let’s get out of here before a teacher catches us. We weren’t being quiet.”

They hurried down the stairs to the dungeons, where their first Potions class was going to be. Professor Snape’s classroom was cold and empty when they entered it. Felicity helped Ulric to a seat and he dug out his curse book. Within a couple minutes, he had found the spell and fixed his legs.

“You’re amazing,” said Felicity, impressed. “How did you pull off that curse? You can’t have practiced it.”

“I dunno,” said Ulric with a shrug. “I knew the words and I knew she’d send another nasty spell your way if mine didn’t work. It was instinct, I guess.”

“Well, it was brilliant, anyway.”

The pair fell silent as the door opened and more students began to trickle in. Felicity sat straight in her seat and tried not to look at the disgusting things floating in the pickling jars that seemed to take up every shelf along the walls. Ron and Harry were at the table in front of them and it quickly became clear that Harry Potter and Professor Snape would not get along. As he was calling role, Snape paused at Harry’s name and said, “Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new - celebrity.”

Professor Snape was, like McGonagall, the type of teacher you didn’t want to cross. He had greasy black hair and dark, dark eyes. Like his students - Snape was head of Slytherin house - he seemed to think himself superior to the group of Gryffindors, choosing to favor the Slytherin students they were having class with. Felicity, indeed, had sunk low in her chair when Malfoy had walked in with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.

Now Snape began to speak in a quiet voice, “You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death - if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

Felicity looked at Hermione, sitting next to Harry, who was practically at the edge of her seat - most likely ready to prove she was perfectly adept at potion-making. Harry had his quill in his hand and was writing down Snape’s monologue - taking notes, which seemed to Felicity to be smart. But she saw the look on Snape’s face and couldn’t warn Harry in time to stop the next occurrence.

“Potter!” Snape barked, causing Harry to jump. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Felicity saw Harry glance at Ron. Hermione’s hand shot into the air. Ulric was muttering under his breath, “Draught of the Living Death, Draught of the Living Death.” But, as Harry did not possess supernaturally strong hearing, this didn’t help him. “I don’t know,” he said feebly.

Snape sneered. “Tut, tut - clearly, fame isn’t everything. Let’s try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Again, Harry didn’t know. Felicity glanced at Ulric, who shrugged cluelessly. “I don’t know, sir.” Malfoy and his cronies were shaking with laughter; Felicity fought the urge to curse him under her desk. Hermione had her hand as high as it would go without her actually leaving her seat.

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming, eh, Potter?” Snape sneered. “What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Felicity knew the answer to this one, but had no way to tip Harry off without catching Snape’s attention. Hermione, so desperate to prove her knowledge, stood up, her hand still raised as high as physically possible. Harry, it seemed, was at the end of his rope and said, “I don’t know. I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

Ulric snorted. Several Gryffindors laughed. Felicity knew better - Snape’s retort wasn’t going to be pleasant.

“Sit down,” he snapped at Hermione. “For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite.” There was a pause. The classroom was dead silent. “Well? Why aren’t you all copying that down?”

Because last time someone was taking notes, you humiliated him in front of the class, Felicity thought. Snape looked up then, his eyes catching Felicity’s. Her face went red and she ducked her head, even though he couldn’t possibly know what she was thinking...could he?

Felicity did her best to keep her head down for the rest of the lesson. Neville, working with Seamus nearby, looked ready to cry as they tried to make a solution to cure boils. Felicity was glad to have Ulric as a partner - he had steady hands and carefully weighed and measured ingredients while Felicity read the instructions and crushed snake fangs. When Snape passed by, commenting that their potion was too green, Felicity had to stomp on Ulric’s foot to keep him from snapping back at him.

“Our potion’s bloody near perfect,” he muttered darkly. Felicity patted his hand comfortingly.

Felicity, however, nearly snapped, too, when Snape stopped by Malfoy’s cauldron to praise the way he’d stewed his horned slugs. Fortunately, before she could say something she’d regret, a loud hissing erupted from the middle of the room and a cloud of acrid, green smoke began to sizzle out of what remained of Seamus’ cauldron. The contents of the destroyed cauldron were dripping off the table and seeping across the floors, burning holes in people’s shoes. Felicity wasn’t able to save hers - she had to jump onto her stool and yank them off before her feet got burned.

And poor Neville! He had been drenched in the potion and was moaning in agony as red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

“Idiot boy!” Snape snarled, clearing the potion with a flick of his wand. “I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire? Take him up to the hospital wing,” he snapped at Seamus. Then he turned on Harry and Ron. “You - Potter - why didn’t you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he’d make you look good if he got it wrong, did you?”

Felicity thought the enormously unfair. How was Harry supposed to have been paying attention to Neville when he was busy making his own potion? It was Seamus’ fault, if any, for not noticing Neville’s mistake.

After lunch, Felicity walked barefoot down the front steps with Ulric, carrying what was left of her shoes. “I mean, how could he blame Harry for that? It wasn’t anyone’s fault - just an accident.”

“Snape’s the teacher,” said Ulric begrudgingly. “He can do whatever he wants.”

“It’s not right. He’s not right.” Felicity shuddered a little as they reached the edge of the lake, dropping their bags and sitting down in the warm grass. “When he looked at me, at the beginning of class, I could’ve sworn he was reading my mind.”

“And just what were you thinking?” asked a cheerful voice. The Weasley twins had joined them, both of them flopping down to Felicity’s left. The one who had addressed her dropped his bag on the ground between them, a couple of his books spilling out. Felicity picked one up, flipping idly through it while noticing the name scribbled on the inside cover.

Smirking, she said, “I was thinking Fred Weasley is so handsome. I might want to snog him.” Fred grinned and opened his mouth - probably to proposition her - but she quickly added, “Too bad he’s a thick git.”

“Oy! That’s not fair!” he exclaimed, glaring at George, who was laughing loudly.

Ulric cracked a grin. “Everyone knows the Weasley twins don’t play fair.”

“Point taken. Watch your back, kids.”

“You’ve just targeted yourself,” George agreed.

“We’re acquiring quite the list,” Felicity said to Ulric.

“Are you now?” George leaned forward to see her past Fred.

“Yeah. We, er, sort of attacked Katrina Selwyn this morning.”

“Duelling already,” Fred said fondly. “They learn do young. Get any good hexes in?”

“Not really,” said Felicity flatly. Cheering up, she added, “But Ulric made her face all pimply.”

“Wicked,” the twins said, identical grins lighting up their faces.

“It’s not funny,” said Ulric. “We could’ve gotten into serious trouble. Probably still will, if she tells a teacher.”

“Tells them what, exactly?” asked Fred. “That she got out magicked by a couple of first years?”

Ulric blinked. “I never thought of that. That’s brilliant.”

“We try,” said Fred gloatingly.

“And fail,” Felicity joked, earning a jab in the ribs.

Fred looked at her sternly and said, “I like you kids, but I will hex you. Don’t think I won’t.”

“We took down Katrina Selwyn. Give us your best shot.”

“We?” Ulric demanded. “I did all the work!”

“I sent sparks at her.”

“That did nothing. Then I took a Jelly-Legs Jinx pushing your useless ass out of the way.”

“Children, let’s behave,” George intervened. “What matters is that it’s only your first week and you’re already breaking rules!”

“We’re so proud,” Fred simpered, pretending to wipe away a tear.

“Soon enough, you’ll be exploring the forest and sneaking out for moonlit strolls in the corridors.”

“And sneaking into the girls’ dormitory.” Fred winked at Ulric.

“Bet they’ve already found out what’s in the third floor corridor.”

“I bet they have, Georgie. Clever kids.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ulric groaned, rolling his eyes. “Felicity and I are not rule-breakers.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Ric,” said Fred. “Come on, George, I think we’ve done what we can here.”

“Later, kids” George said, then he and Fred got to their feet and headed back toward the castle.

When they had vanished, Felicity turned to Ulric and asked, “What is on the third floor, do you reckon?”

“Who cares?” Ulric replied, stretching out on his back and closing his eyes. Felicity nodded and closed her eyes, too, but she secretly thought to herself, I care.