Lumos

Uncle Markus and Sebastian stayed with Felicity’s family for a time, Uncle Markus taking the couch and Sebastian sleeping on a mountain of blankets on the floor. Somewhere near the end of June, Esther woke the family up early in the morning, force-feeding them a quick breakfast, and then loaded everyone into the rusty old car that they’d be driving the three hours to London to get Felicity’s school supplies. She already had most of her books, which were what had been in her large stack of birthday presents.

“Barking mad,” Uncle Markus grumbled, glaring out the window as the countryside flew by. “Terrible way to travel. Don’t you have anything more efficient?”

“No Floo Powder,” answered Esther curtly. “And I’m not putting them through side-along Apparation at their age.”

Felicity, seated in the backseat with Sebastian, was occupied reading an article in the wizard newspaper - The Nimbus 2000, A Broom Worth Buying! Felix was fast asleep in the seat between them, his head in Felicity’s lap.

“What is Quidditch?” she asked as she skimmed over the unfamiliar word.

“Blood hell,” Sebastian muttered.

“Be nice, Seb,” scolded Uncle Markus. To Felicity, he added, “It’s the wizarding sport. It’s played on brooms and it’s a bit like, erm...what’s that Muggle sport they do?”

“Soccer,” Esther supplied.

“Exactly. You’ve got to throw the ball to make goals and such. Easy enough, eh?”

Felicity gawked at him. “Um…”

“No matter, no matter,” he continued easily. “We’ll have you on the Slytherin team in no time.”

“Slytherin?”

“One of the Hogwarts houses. The lot of us have been in Slytherin, save a few...outsiders.”

“It isn’t a crime to be sorted into another house,” said Esther shortly.

“Certainly not, if you’re a Muggleborn or a blood traitor, but it’s Slytherin for our noble family.”

“What are the others?” Felicity asked, but Esther and Markus were now arguing about blood status, leaving Sebastian to explain.

“There’s Ravenclaw,” he said, giving her a quick glance. “That’s probably second-best, they’re for if you’re clever. Hufflepuff’s a load of duffers, supposed to be hard workers. And Gryffindor’s for the ‘brave of heart’.”

“And you’re in Slytherin?”

“Of course.”

“What are they known for?”

“Getting what we want,” said Sebastian with a smirk.

“How much longer must we bump along in this ruddy old thing?” Markus suddenly asked. “We’re only a short way from mother’s, you know. We could…”

“No. We’re only a couple hours from London.”

“Bloody...Astoria, just take the next left.”

“I don’t want-”

“Don’t you think the children deserve to meet their grandmother? Don’t you think they’d want to?”

Esther grimaced, but put on the blinker and made the turn.

“Your grandmother will be so happy to finally meet you,” Markus said, glancing at Felicity in the rearview. “She’s talked of nothing else for weeks.”

“I’m sure,” Ether muttered.

“Of course, she was a bit doubtful whether you’d get in or not - the process is a bit dodgy, at best, isn’t it? - but I knew you would despite your disadvantage.”

“Disadvantage?” asked Felicity.

“Having a Muggle mother,” Sebastian answered. “Don’t feel bad about it, though. My dad was a Muggle.”

“A filthy business,” Markus said sourly. “Wizards marrying Muggles. Imagine, degrading yourself for something as foolish as love.”

“Let’s not get into it,” suggested Esther.

“She ought to know, though, so she’ll marry properly one day. Perhaps she and Narcissa’s boy-”

“They’re related, Markus.”

“Barely.”

“Legally.”

“Alright, then. What about Seb? He’s not a blood relative.”

Felicity’s face went red. Sebastian bit back a grin, turning his head so Felicity couldn’t see. Mortified, Felicity said, “Uncle Markus, please-”

“No need to be bashful, dear,” laughed Markus. “My boy’s a handsome one, isn’t he?”

“Erm…”

“It’s alright, Felicity,” said Sebastian, shaking his head. “All the girls fancy me.”

Felicity turned her head and stared fixedly out the window. She was beginning to dislike spending so much time with her extended family.

Markus perked up suddenly, pointing out the window. “Here we go, take a right now. Yes, down that little road there.”

The group sank into silence as the car pulled up to an enormous, wrought-iron gate with two entwined serpents connecting in the center. Markus gave his wand a casual flick and the serpents separated as the gate swung open, allowing the car and its passengers to continue down the long drive.

At the end, they came into the shadow of an enormous manor, even larger than the one rotting on Hangman Hill. Felicity balked at the sheer size of it.

“Come along, then,” Markus said cheerily, stepping out of the car and leading the way up the sweeping front steps. Felicity stuck close to her mother’s side, wanting to hold her hand but also wanting to look brave in front of Sebastian. Felix followed her closely, one hand gripping her wrist tight enough to cut off blood flow.

The tall, gothic-style front doors opened into a marble foyer with a grand staircase flanked by two marble serpents, their eyes sparkling emerald. The ceiling was so high up that Felicity had to squint to make it out and the floor was so clean that they could see their reflections, pale and nervous-looking.

“Mother!” Markus called gaily, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. As they waited, Markus led them into a lavish sitting room full of the finest furniture. N ornate mantelpiece was nearly sagging under the weight of many trophies and framed photos. Upon closer inspection, Felicity found the pictures to be engraved with gold-plated tags along the bottoms of the frames. Markus graduates top of class… Bellatrix and Rudolphus Wedding… Draco, Newborn… The trophies almost all had to do with “Services to the Ministry.”

“Our shelf of accomplishments,” a cold voice said, cutting through the near silence.

Felicity jumped, whirling around to find herself nearly nose-to-nose with a very pale woman with wild, black hair and eyes. She didn’t seem very old, but she resembled Markus too much to be anything but his mother. She was looking at Felicity with a disdainful expression.

“Shall we have tea?” Uncle Markus suggested, summoning one of the oddest creatures Felicity had ever seen. It was several heads shorter than her and had enormous eyes and batlike ears. It wore what looked like an old flour-sack as clothing. “Fetch the tea,” Markus told it. With a bow that nearly touched its nose to the floor, the creature scurried away.

Sebastian, who Felicity hadn’t noticed sidling up beside her, said quietly, “House elf. Servant.”

Felicity nodded and, turning her attention back to the woman before her, said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ah, yes, introductions!” exclaimed Markus. “Mother, this is your granddaughter, Felicity. Felicity, this is your grandmother, the noble Sybilla Black.”

Sybilla Black stared at Felicity for several more seconds, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, before turning on heel and saying to Markus, “She looks like the Muggle.” Felicity, who had no memories of her father, had no idea whether this was meant as an insult, although her sour tone suggested it was. “Hard to believe they accepted her, being half Muggle.”

“She’s still a witch, Mum,” said Markus casually. “More blood, you know.”

Sybilla turned her black eyes back to Felicity, appraising her. Her mouth seemed to be set into a constant frown. Finally, without a change of expression, she addressed Felicity directly, “Our house is old. The Black family dates back to the beginning of our history and we have no room for anything less than perfection in our family.”

Felicity shivered.

Esther spoke up, then, saying, “Hate to cut this visit short, but we really should be going. London does get awfully crowded midday.”

“What about tea?” Markus demanded.

“Another time, perhaps,” said Sybilla quietly. “Do give Cissy my best, if you see her.”

“Of course, Mum. I’ll get the Floo Powder.”

“Are you sure the little one can manage?” Her eyes flicked to Felix for a moment. He cowered under her cold gaze.

“He can manage.” Markus gave Felix’s shoulder a fond pat, then went to fetch the Floo Powder...whatever that was.

“You’re a clever one,” said Sybilla, returning her attention to Felicity. “But not, I think, of our noble stock. You lack the greatness of the house of Black. You’ll be a disappointment, I think, in the end.”

Esther opened her mouth to make an angry comment, but Felicity beat her to it, saying fiercely, “Then I hope I am a great disappointment, so I might prove to be your equal in the matter.”

Sybilla’s frown deepened, but there was a glint of something in her eye. “Just like him,” she muttered, seemingly more to herself than to Felicity. Just then, Uncle Markus returned, now garbed in a long, black cloak and carrying a silver dish full of a glimmering powder.

“Right, so, ladies first?” asked Markus, offering the dish to Felicity. When she looked questioningly at him, he explained, “You take a pinch, toss it into the fireplace, then say very clearly ‘Diagon Alley,’ and step into the flames.”

“Into the fire?”

“Exactly.”

“But…” Felicity looked around at her grandmother, whose frown had an amused pull to it, and squared her shoulder, taking a fistful of the powder and stepping up to the fire. The warmth from the flames seemed very real against her cheeks, but she reminded herself that she was a witch. She threw the powder into the grate and the flames sprung up at once, burning into a bright green color that she was quite terrified to step into. But she held her head high as she put one foot into the fire and, finding it to be perfectly cool, ducked her head as she stepped the rest of the way in.

Felicity turned to face her mismatched family. Felix was watching her fearfully, clinging to their mother, who met her eyes with a look of calm reassurance. Markus stood to her right, waving his hand as if to say go on. Across the room, Sybil stood with her frown in place, her eyes shadowed from view. Sebastian was at her side, his expression one of admiration, whether from her speech or her lack of hesitance, Felicity wasn’t sure.

Sucking in a breath, Felicity said, “Diagon Alley!”

In a great motion like being sucked down a drain, Felicity was set to spinning, faster and faster until she had to shut her eyes from dizziness. Everything seemed to be roaring in her ears, confusing her already scrambled head. But, quite suddenly, she was falling forward, barely managing to throw out her arms to prevent smashing her face on a stone floor.

Sitting up, slightly dazed, Felicity found herself in a grubby little pub full of oddly dressed people. Most were wearing cloaks like the one Uncle Markus had been wearing. A man off to one side of the room had on a turban, of all things. A bald, toothless man was smiling warmly at her and offered her a hand, which she took.

“Hogwarts, I presume?” he asked.

Felicity, relieved to know she’d ended up in the right place, nodded and turned around just in time to see Felix, head to toe in soot, tumble out of the fireplace. He began to wail the moment he hit the floor, having scraped his leg on the grate.

The bald man, looking slightly annoyed, flicked his wand. Before their eyes, Felix’s torn skin knitted itself back together, leaving no trace of the injury. This seemed to get Felix’s attention and he looked around curiously.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“The Leaky Cauldron,” answered the bald man. “I’m Tom. You might want to move, lad, as I expect your parents will be coming along shortly.”

Sure enough, seconds after Felix had scrambled to his feet, Esther stepped clumsily from the fireplace, looking a tad greener than usual. “Never got the hang of Floo Powder” she coughed, and stepped out of the way in time for her brother to step casually out of the grate.

“Excellent, everyone’s where they’re supposed to be, then,” he said after Sebastian stumbled out of the fireplace. “G’day, Tom.”

“Mr. Black,” Tom said with a slight bow.

“Well, then, let’s be off.”

Uncle Markus led them out the back door of the pub, into a dead-end alleyway. Shooting Felix and Felicity a knowing grin, he pulled out his wand and tapped a brick just above the trash bin and stepped back. The two siblings watched, jaws slack, as the bricks quivered and began to rearrange themselves, revealing a hole that steadily grew bigger.

It grew and grew until, at last, they were looking through an enormous archway into a cobblestone street, crowded with more oddly dressed people. Uncle Pete took one look at their stunned faces, grinned again, and said, “Welcome, my children, to Diagon Alley.”