Lumos

Detention or Death

From the first day of November, Ulric was in a foul mood. He spent a great deal of his time studying and snapped at anyone who disturbed him. Felicity knew this was less out of a desire to do schoolwork and more due to his anger at Kyne, who had made the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. The third year was often seen with Cedric Diggory, quietly discussing Quidditch tactics.

Felicity had too much to worry about already to think much of Kyne. Transfiguration homework was piling up and she would often be working well into the night to finish it on time. Worse still was avoiding Katrina and Sebastian. They seemed to be everywhere she went, together or apart, and she carried Fred and George’s secret weapon wherever she went.

On Friday, Felicity found herself in a mood even worse than Ulric’s. The day before, she had accidentally ignited the quill she was supposed to be transfiguring and the desk had quickly caught as well, so she had been held after to help mend the desk and to receive a long, rather angry lecture from Professor McGonagall for her irresponsibility. She had subsequently been late to History of Magic, although Professor Binns didn’t seem to notice, and had to bug Ulric to borrow his notes.

Things didn’t get better as they faced a taxing double Potions.

“As if Snape wasn’t bad enough, let’s throw in some Slytherins, eh?” Felicity was saying to Ulric as they made their way down to the dungeons.

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, Sebastian and Katrina will be there, too,” said Ulric darkly.

He was in an especially bad mood as everyone around them was buzzing about tomorrow’s Quidditch match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Felicity couldn’t justify this - Ravenclaw wasn’t even playing! - and she was quite anxious to see Slytherin lose.

Potions was, as they’d expected, completely miserable. Snape swooped between the desks, criticizing everyone’s work except for Malfoy’s. The slick git was nearly unbearable to Felicity now. Just looking at him made her want to find a decent hex to use on him. She still hadn’t found one suitable to use on Fred.

By the time class was over, Felicity’s spirits were dangerously low.

Felicity left Ulric after Defense Against the Dark Arts and was halfway to the common room when she was roughly shoved from behind. She fell, her chin banging onto the stone floor, and her vision went dark for a long moment. She felt someone’s foot under her, and she was flipped onto her back.

Katrina leered down at her. She was smirking and twirling her wand idly between her fingers. “Long time, eh, James?”

“Get off,” Felicity gasped as Katrina put a foot onto her chest.

“But what would that accomplish? You first years have got to learn your place.”

Felicity couldn’t reach her wand. It was in her bag, which she’d dropped. But she could reach…

Her fingers wrapped around the dung bomb in her pocket, the wrapper crinkling under her fingers, and Felicity threw it with all her might, directly at Katrina’s face.

The stench was horrific, rivaled only by the stench of a troll. Felicity’s eyes instantly burned and Katrina stumbled backward, bits of the brown mess all over her porcelain skin. The candy wrapper had only partly come off, so half of the bomb was still wedged in. Realizing this would only keep Katrina distracted for a minute, Felicity scrambled to her feet and made a dash for it.

She ran and ran until she found herself near the Charms corridor, far from where she’d set off the bomb. As Felicity slowed to a walk, she couldn’t help grinning at the look on Katrina’s face. In fact, she was just starting to think it had been a grand little adventure when she rounded the corner and ran straight into Filch.

“Forget something?” he wheezed, smiling an unpleasant, gleeful smile.

He was holding Felicity’s bag, reeking like a dung bomb.

. . .

At dinnertime, Felicity sadly walked past the Great Hall. The smell of delicious food wafted through the open doors, but she turned away and left the castle. The grounds were icy, the sky dumping buckets of rain down on her as she trudged toward where Filch was waiting.

To her simultaneous delight and despair, Katrina was with him. She was drenched to the skin and Felicity was well on her way. As it was still light enough to see by, Filch had no lantern but carried a large umbrella which he refused to share with them. He wheezed with delight as he led them across the grounds and up to a large, demented tree.

“What’s this rubbish?” Katrina demanded, looking indignantly at Filch.

“See that branch?” Filch huffed, pointing to a branch on the tree that was nearly snapped off. “Some bleedin’ kids thought it a nice joke to throw stones at the poor thing and now look. Your job is the bandage the branch.”

“And how exactly do we do that?” Katrina snapped.

“Like a splint, I suppose,” said Felicity, feeling a little better. All they had to do was bandage a tree? She’d be back in time for dinner after all.

“Uh uh, uh.” There was something particularly unpleasant about the joyous tone Filch had taken. “This ain’t just any tree. The Whomping Willow can be right nasty.”

As he spoke, the branches of the Whomping Willow began to sway ominously. Katrina, looking impatient as always, stepped boldly forward - this was a mistake. In an instant, one of the gnarled branches had swooped down and knocked Katrina off her feet. She flew several feet into the air and landed, hard, on her back.

Felicity gaped. Filch smiled most unpleasantly.

“Well, good luck to ya,” he commented before turning.

“Wait, aren’t you going to-”

But Filch had gone, vanishing into the gathering darkness.

“Well, this is just brilliant, isn’t it?” Katrina complained. “Having to take care of a tree that wants to take our heads off!”

“The quit your sniveling and think of a spell to help us,” Felicity snapped, “or do you only know spells to bully people.”

Katrina sneered. “Watch it, Muggle-lover. I know plenty of spells to make your life hell.”

“Just try it,” Felicity challenged. She was beginning to grow very cold now in the drizzle of rain and thought longingly of the Gryffindor common room, where her friends were probably just returning from dinner. “Think of a spell!”

“What spell cuts down a tree?!” Katrina shrieked as one of the tree’s wayward branches had a swing at her.

“Then forget spells! Just make a run for it!”

Felicity dove toward the trunk, barely dodging a particularly pointy branch, but had to quickly roll to avoid another barreling down from above. The two girls dove this way and that, but they couldn’t get any closer to the tree. How on earth were they expected to bandage it when they couldn’t even get near it?

“A spell, a spell,” Felicity muttered, tugging at her hair. What was a spell that would stop a tree? Maybe to put it to sleep or paralyze it or... “That’s it!” Felicity suddenly cried, reaching for her wand. “Immobulous!

The Whomping Willow froze, its branches suspended in the air. For a long moment, the only movement was the lightly falling rain. As the girls stood there, warily watching the tree, the rain stopped altogether and, finally, Katrina said quietly––

“I could have done that.”

Felicity was in the worst sorts when she finally returned to the Gryffindor common room. Although the rain had cleared up, she’d gotten plenty of bruises from climbing up to the branch and many splinters while wrapping the bandage around the broken branch. Katrina hadn’t been any help at all, standing below and complaining about doing servant’s work.

Ulric was at his usual seat by the far fire and, as Felicity passed the seat where Ron, Hermione, and Harry were having a hushed conversation, she overheard Harry saying something.

“––tried to get past that three–headed dog on Halloween. That’s where he was going when we saw him –– he’s after whatever it’s guarding! And I’d bet my broomstick he let that troll in, to make a diversion!”

Felicity froze.

“No –– he wouldn’t,” Hermione was quick to say. “I know he’s not very nice, but he wouldn’t try and steal something Dumbledore was keeping safe.”

Ron spoke next. “Honestly, Hermione, you think all teachers are saints or something. I’m with Harry. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape. But what’s he after? What’s that dog guarding?”

Felicity mentally kicked herself and hurried over to Ulric, collapsing beside him.

“Enjoy detention?” he asked sarcastically.

“Brilliant,” she replied quietly. She was trying to make sense of what she’d heard. A three–headed dog? Snape letting the troll in? Dumbledore guarding something? Just what were Harry, Ron, and Hermione involved in?

Stop it, Felicity told herself. You’ll just get into more trouble if you start snooping, and you’ve got enough to worry about as it is! Switching Spells, Switching Spells, Switching Spells!