Lucy didn't know exactly why she was suddenly best friends with Hermione, but she wasn't happy about it. (Maybe Granger was beginning to grow on her— just a bit— but she would never admit it.)
While she was enjoying the feast with her fellow Hufflepuffs, Harry and Ron were off fighting a troll. Yeah, a freaking troll. Who does that? Who goes out and fights a troll? Gryffindors. That's who. What the hell, Harry.
Even though Lucy wasn't a part of that particular bonding activity, Hermione acted like Lucy had been in the girl's bathroom fighting the troll, too. Begrudgingly, Lucy accepted the Gryffindor's friendship (mostly at Harry's insistence), and the previous Gryffindor duo now became a trio. Whenever Lucy looked for one, the others were sure to be there too, which was quite unfortunate because Lucy still wasn't all the way warmed up to Hermione Granger.
One cold November morning, Lucy decided that she wanted to go rock-collecting. It was a new hobby she picked up approximately five minutes ago; she planned to make a day of it. Some nice, peaceful alone time would do her some good in light of everyone's anticipation about the upcoming Quidditch match.
She wandered out of the castle during break, not planning to go very far. She found plenty of rocks around the entrance to the castle, and she began to zone out as she busied herself in her new activity. She supposed only twenty minutes had passed before she felt a looming presence at her back. Turning around, she looked up at Professor Snape, who was sneering down at her.
Jesus. Christ. Lucy thought to herself. She stared blankly at the professor.
"Your next class begins shortly, Rochester," he glared, "I hope you weren't planning on skipping."
How on earth could he have come to that conclusion after, like, twenty minutes into the break. Lucy wondered how one person could be so utterly annoying: this was yet another reason she disliked Snape so much— he was just so suspicious of her, all the time, for no reason whatsoever. She wasn't a bad student– or she didn't think she was; she turned her homework in on time and even though she wasn't the greatest at reading or writing, she still did her best. Snape seemed to really despise her.
Lucy stared blankly at him, "Wasn't planning on it, no."
"Then what were you doing? Lurking around the castle is suspicious, Rochester."
Lucy internally screamed. "Then I'll just head back in," she scowled at him and put the two interesting rocks she found back on the ground. So much for that hobby. Now it was tainted by Snape, and therefore could never be enjoyable again.
As Snape led her back into the castle, Lucy daydreamed of joining the Hufflepuff quidditch team and hurling a quaffle right at Snape's stupid face. What's the worst that could happen to her, detention? Sure, Snape was a prat, but his detentions weren't unbearable or anything. She hadn't had detention with Filch yet but she was sure that she could win the man over, or die trying. Or at least annoy him until he didn't want to oversee her detentions anymore. Madam Hooch? Her detentions were strict, but fun.
Her next class was across the courtyard, and Snape was not letting up an inch. He escorted her the entire way and it didn't appear he would let up until she arrived at her Charms class. (15 minutes early, mind you.) Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, depending on your perspective, another group of students caught Snape's wrath. Of course those three students happened to be Ron, Harry, and Hermione.
"What's that you've got there, Potter?" Snape asked snidely as he limped over to the three.
Lucy caught Harry's eye and they shared a 'not this again' look before Harry showed his copy of Quidditch Through the Ages to him.
"Library books are not to be taken outside the school— give it to me. Five points from Gryffindor." Then Snape turned to Lucy. "I'd better not catch you lurking outside the school again, either. Detention this evening."
WHAT! Lucy thought, and she gaped at the professor. But she didn't argue; though detentions with Madam Hooch were loads of fun, her hands were beginning to become blistered from scrubbing broomsticks all the time. Anyway, at the rate she was getting detentions, all the school brooms would be in top condition (as top of a condition as those battered old brooms could be in), and that left her with Snape or Filch.
"That's rough, Luce," Ron winced; he hadn't received a detention yet and he didn't care to, either.
"He just made that rule up," Harry muttered angrily. He watched as Snape's limping form disappeared behind a corner. "Wonder what's wrong with his leg?"
"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron.
"Seconded," Lucy agreed.
That evening, Lucy sat outside the staff room, waiting for Professor Snape to resurface. As expected, she had detention with him, not Madam Hooch, seeing as there was no more broomsticks that needed tending to. Snape told her earlier she'd be sorting the potion supplies— it honestly wasn't that bad of a task, but the injustice of it all had her sulking as she waited for the professor.
It was almost curfew, so Lucy was a bit surprised when Harry showed up. He looked at her with equal surprise.
"Lucy? What are you doing here?"
She pouted a little. "Detention, remember?"
"Ouch," he winced, then looked at the staff room door with fixed determination. "I'm going to get my book back."
"I wouldn't go in there," Lucy warned. "He said he had to do something quickly, and he'd be out soon."
Harry shook his head, still determined. "It's almost curfew and I don't have an excuse to be out. I need that book; the Quidditch match is tomorrow."
"Your funeral, I guess," Lucy shrugged; there was usually no talking Harry out of a scheme. She leaned back against the wall and fiddled with her tie. As Harry pushed the door open, she couldn't help but overhear the conversation. She scooted further away so she could still hear, but also wouldn't be lopped in with Harry's eavesdropping arse.
"Blasted thing," Snape was saying, "how are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"
Three heads? Lucy echoed silently. Snape went up to see the three-headed dog? Well, it made sense, seeing as he was a professor. But if the dog was volatile enough to harm one of its handlers, then what could possibly be so important that Dumbledore would let such a beast inside of a school? From the confused glance Harry shot her, she gathered he was thinking along the same lines.
She hoped Snape would give more information, but Harry had pushed the door open a little too far. "POTTER!" She heard Snape shout from within the staff room, and he sounded furious.
Harry gulped. "I was wondering if I could have my book back."
"GET OUT! OUT!"
Lucy was amazed to note that Harry sprinted away faster than he had when they'd almost been eaten by the three-headed dog. Although, falling prey to a Cerberus was a pleasant fate compared to Professor Snape's company.
Professor Snape limped out of the staff room to make sure he had gone, and he fixed his glare on Lucy.
She held her hands up in defense. "I told him you were busy. That Potter boy just doesn't listen."
"That's a severe understatement," Snape bit out.
What? Had Lucy and Snape actually agreed on something? Would they finally develop a meaningful friendship to last them a lifetime?
"Get to the potions room and start scrubbing the cauldrons. Given Potter's interruption, I've changed my mind about sorting ingredients."
Ah, nope. He was still evil.
Lucy showed up to the Great Hall the next morning, and she almost looked like a bigger mess than Harry. Professor Snape wanted all the cauldrons cleaned. Mercifully, he said she could use her wand. That was great and all, except Lucy was only a first year and had no idea how to perform a cleaning spell. She ended up using a sponge after all, and it took her nearly three and a half hours to scrub every single cauldron.
"Mornin', Ron, Hermione." Lucy shot Harry a glare and stole the one piece of toast he had on his plate. "Potter," she bit out through a mouthful.
"What did I do?" Harry asked indignantly.
"I had to scrub cauldrons last night because someone eavesdropped on Snape and put him in a bad mood! I can't feel my arms, Potter!"
"It's not my fault Snape had some suspicious things to say!" He protested. He glanced around to check if anyone was listening before he leaned in closer. "You heard him... he was trying to get past the three-headed dog. I'd bet you anything he was trying to steal whatever it was guarding."
"You'd bet me anything?" She repeated. Sure, Snape was a git and all, but what could possibly be so interesting that he would turn against Dumbledore to steal it? She was under the impression that those two were as thick as thieves.
"Anything," Harry confirmed, his lips pressed in a hard line.
"Twenty galleons?"
"I'd bet you thirty."
"Deal," she said, and they shook on it.
Lucy really hoped she was right because she absolutely did not have thirty galleons, nor had she really grasped what galleons were.
"Lucy, did you just eat the only piece of toast Harry was willing to have?" Hermione interjected. She had a deadly gleam in her eye.
Harry turned to his blonde friend accusingly. "Yeah, Lucy, did you?"
"Oh no, I took the one piece of toast among an entire table of food we have in front of us. How will the Boy-Who-Lived survive this one?" Lucy gasped, "is this the end of Harry Potter?"
"Alright, calm down with the sarcasm," Hermione rolled her eyes, but she couldn't resist a small grin at her sort-of friend. She looked at somewhere behind Lucy and pointed, "I think your housemates want you."
Lucy followed her gaze to the Hufflepuff table and sure enough, Megan Jones was waving her over urgently. "Ah, I see." She turned to face Harry and quickly grabbed a piece of toast and shoved it in his mouth, "Eat! I'll wish you luck before the match starts." And with that, she flounced off to the Hufflepuff table.
Hannah Abbott shot Lucy a scandalized look. "Did you just shove a piece of toast in Harry Potter's face?"
"The guy murdered Voldemort, Luce," Anthony grinned. "You don't wanna mess with him."
"Oh, he did not murder Voldemort, Rickett. Leave the poor boy alone," Daisy Locke rolled her eyes. "Besides, you're likely going to hit a bludger at him later this season."
"Of course, but I'll be terrified while I do it!"
"Can you guys stop saying You-Know-Who's name?" Hannah shuddered. Lucy still didn't understand who Voldemort really was. He was a dark lord who killed a bunch of people, and Harry killed him, but she hadn't yet cracked open The First Wizarding War. At the moment she was still reading The Muggle's Guide to the Wizarding World, which was long enough on its own.
"Fear of a name only reinforces the user's power, Hannah."
Surprisingly, it was Anthony who offered that piece of wisdom. Daisy looked a little impressed. "I hate to say it, but I agree with Rickett," she said. "He doesn't have any power over us."
"No," Susan agreed quietly. "Voldemort is weak."
Hannah still looked a bit nervous, but she forced herself to sit up a bit straighter. "Yeah. Vo—Voldemort is weak."
"Bugger Voldemort!" Megan cheered, rather loudly actually. The less brave students around her shot her glares.
Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw Quirrell at the teachers' table give a series of sporadic twitches. God, he was weird.
"Anyway, talk of Lord Voldy aside, what did you want me over here for?" Lucy asked in an attempt to get the group back on track. Susan grew deathly quiet, almost angry about the Voldemort discussion; Lucy would have to ask her later.
Megan cleared her throat and folded her hands on the table. "Right. So the first match of Kidwitch—"
"Quidditch," Wayne Hopkins corrected lightly.
"Quidditch," Megan repeated, "begins around eleven o'clock. Mummy, dear, would you mind explaining the club's decree?"
"We have a club?" interjected Lucy. This was news to her.
"Of course we do, Lucy. You're too busy hanging out with those Gryffindors to have been initiated," Anthony said lightly. "Anyway, our club's decree states that we are not under any circumstance allowed to cheer for the Slytherin team, because Marcus Flint is an arsehole and I hate him. That leaves the Gryffindors whom, while boorish, are our closest allies. So, to show our solidarity to our allies, I've had my boy Wayne and our lady Megan make a banner. I expect you ducklings to cheer loudly, you hear me?"
"Sir, yes, sir!" Lucy saluted him.
"We shall shout until our lungs rot!" Megan declared.
"Maybe not that much."
With her kitten Grayble in her arms, Lucy arrived at the Quidditch pitch at precisely eleven o'clock to wish Harry good luck. She wasn't entirely sure if she was allowed down there so close to the game, but nobody had stopped her yet, so she assumed it was fine. She waited outside the locker room for Harry to come out, and she was glad that she did; Harry looked pale and ready to keel over from nerves at any moment.
She tackled him in a hug right away, causing a bit of panic from Wood who thought someone had just attacked his seeker. "Good luck, Harry!" she grinned, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You'll do great!"
Harry grinned back at her. "Thanks, Luce. I'll wave at you."
"You'd better," she warned. Ever loyal to Anthony, she pulled a face at the Weasley twins before running back to the Hufflepuff stands. She barely made it back in time for the players to mount their brooms.
"Finally, you're back," Hannah sighed in relief as Lucy took her place between her and Megan. "I thought I'd have to cast an unforgivable to save this seat. Prime spots, Lucy— right beside the announcer."
"I thank you graciously," Lucy grinned. She turned back to watch Madam Hooch raise her silver whistle up to her lips. A piercing sound filled the air, and the players took off. Lucy couldn't help but be a little awed at the sight of real actual wizards flying on broomsticks. Flying. Magic was absolutely insane.
Lucy pet the dozing off Grayble as Lee Jordan began his commentary.
"And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor—what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too—"
"JORDAN!" Professor McGonagall snapped as Lucy and her friends laughed.
"Sorry, professor. And she's really belting along up there: a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve— back to Johnson and — no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes— Flint flying like an eagle up there—"
"Bugger, I hate Flint so much," Anthony scowled. Lucy barely heard him over the crowd, but she wasn't paying much attention, either.
Flint threw the Quaffle at the hoop, but Wood easily blocked it. "Damn right, you worthless slime!" Anthony cheered. "YEAHHHHH, GO WOOD!"
Lee Jordan glanced over at the loud Anthony and grinned, "Some enthusiasm from Rickett in the crowd! Greatly appreciated, I'm sure, as Wood gives him the thumbs up— Katie Bell takes the Quaffle after Wood's spectacular save, makes a nice dive around Flint, and — OUCH — that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger, leaving the Slytherins with the Quaffle. That's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goalposts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger— sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which—"
"Weasleys!" Anthony groaned under his breath.
Daisy Locke elbowed him in the side. "Set a good example, Rickett," she whispered.
"Hating Weasleys is a perfectly good example to set."
"Shhhhh, I'm trying to pay attention!" Megan groaned. She flung some popcorn at Anthony without taking her eyes off the match.
Lucy, on the other hand, was growing a bit restless; Quidditch looked more fun to play than it was to watch, but she had to watch Harry's match. She settled for watching her friend fly around the pitch. Having nothing important to do at the moment, he did a couple of loop-the-loops which nobody else seemed to pay attention to. Then, he caught sight of the Snitch; he dove after it and Terence Higgs flew after him. Lucy held onto the edge of the railing as Harry reached out toward it, when— WHAM! Marcus Flint cut Harry off and nearly sent Harry crashing to the ground.
This all happened relatively close to where Lucy was, and she made eye contact with Flint as Hooch blew her whistle for a free shot.
She narrowed her eyes and made a cutting motion across her throat, mouthing, 'I'll kill you'. Flint looked terribly confused and a little nervous, if she was being honest.
"So, after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating—" Lee began but was interrupted by McGonagall's glare. "I mean, after that open and revolting foul—"
"Jordan, I'm warning you—"
"All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I'm sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession."
Lucy shook her head clear of any thoughts of murder and focused on watching Harry. All was normal, until it wasn't, and something a little scary happened. Harry's broom gave an abnormal lurch that nearly knocked her friend off his broom. Then it happened again, like the broom was a wild horse; except the consequences of falling would be far worse than if it actually were a wild horse.
She looked around desperately, but no one else seemed to notice. She peered over to the other side of the stadium and thankfully made eye contact with Hermione, who appeared equally as concerned. Without warning, she handed the sleeping Grayble over to Anthony and ran to the other side of the stands to meet with Hermione. Her heart was racing as quickly as it had when she met the three-headed dog. Something was terribly wrong.
"Lucy— it's Snape!" Hermione gasped as Lucy reached them. She shoved the binoculars into her arms and Lucy looked across back to the announcer's box. Sure enough, he was staring dead on at Harry, muttering something nonstop. Her hand shook a little and then her gaze was fixed on Quirrell. But Quirrell... he was doing the exact same thing.
"It's Quirrell, too, Hermione— look!" She gave Hermione the binoculars back.
"I think Snape's doing something," Hermione shook her head, "He's jinxing the broom."
"Well, what should we do?" Ron demanded.
Hermione shared a look with Lucy, who managed to get the gist of exactly what they were to do.
"Leave it to us," Hermione said firmly.
She and Lucy sprinted through the stands, dodging between the cheering students as well as they could. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy could see the Weasley twins trying to pull Harry onto their broom, with no luck. They finally reached the announcer's box again. Hermione headed for Snape, while Lucy purposefully knocked Professor Quirrell headfirst to the row in front.
"Oh my goodness, I'm sorry, professor!" Lucy gasped as she rushed to help the professor up. Hah, not really, you shady garlic man. "Do you have any idea what's happening?"
Before Quirrell could muster up an answer, the other professors in attendance began yelling out. Lucy turned around to see that Professor Severus Snape was on fire.
Hermione had literally set a teacher on fire.
Hermione, I love you, Lucy decided as a wide smile took up most of her face. Their friendship was officially confirmed. Anyone insane enough to set someone on fire, she immediately liked. She and Hermione hurried back to their respective housemates before they could get caught.
"Lucy, where were you? You missed it!" Hannah shouted over the roaring crowd, "Harry caught the snitch! Well, he swallowed it, but he still caught it!"
"Really? That's great," Lucy said faintly as she slid back into her seat. She could feel her heartbeat throughout her entire body. God, Hogwarts was weird. She just got all these new friends and now she had to save them from dying? This was all super stressful.
"Does someone need a weird bed-mutant kitten?" Anthony asked, holding Grayble up to Lucy's face.
"I think that's exactly what I need, Anthony," Lucy mumbled. She held her kitten up to her neck and smiled as Grayble nuzzled up against her. "At least you're not constantly in danger of this hell-school, Graybie."
"No offense, Lucy, but I reckon you and your Gryffindors are the only ones who've almost died," Susan said politely. "Did you seriously knock Quirrell down the stands?"
"He's a shady garlic man, Susan," Lucy informed, "he can't be trusted."
The others laughed it off, but deep down Lucy knew that it wasn't just a joke. Either Snape or Quirrell intended to kill her friend today, and Lucy vowed she would find out which one. The other three were great and all, but Lucy's way of thinking was a little different from theirs.
She was going to have to solve this great mystery in the Hufflepuff sort of way.