Filotimo

Over the course of the next day, Lucas hears more than a few whispers geared toward the one and only Boy-Who-Lived.

It’s nothing new—Harry is famous, and therefore there must always be people talking about him, especially in a school full of teenagers. Teenagers are fierce gossips, and Lucas is no exception. It’s hard to not want to share and share and share. There’s a certain power that rumours hold.

That’s not to say the rumours have started yet. No, no, it’s still much too early for that. For now, it’s just a bunch of whispers about which one is Harry Potter. 

It’s just the stares and the pointing. One could argue that it’s worse than the rumours passed around when no one’s looking, but no harm has been done. Just extreme discomfort on Harry’s part. Sometimes people are horribly insensitive. Who cares about the feelings of others? As long as your curiosity is satisfied, it’s all good, right?

Lucas tries not to let it get to him.

It’s harder than he’d like to admit.

He supposes that Hogwarts is a good enough distraction from the insensitivity of people. It’s okay. Lucas can be cruel and insensitive too. It’s a part of human nature, whether he likes it or not. It’s not really something worth getting mad about. 

Now, Hogwarts, on the other hand, that’s something to be infuriated about. A hundred forty-two staircases, and what do they do? Move around, like it’s not being incredibly inconvenient to the students in the castle. Or the doors, who just refused to let students actually be on time. Why not just open up? Why make things difficult? Isn’t the workload and homework enough for the students? 

Whatever. It’s not like he can just yell at Hogwarts and everything will be magically fixed. The thing’s a mess. 

If there’s something that Lucas can yell at, it’s the ghosts. He’s already done so twice. He’ll do it again! Annoying little dead people with attachment issues. It’s enough when they just float through walls and scare the living daylights out of people, but coupled with Peeves? Peeves just has one of those punchable faces. Lucas would, if Peeves wasn’t intangible.

The classes were fun enough, he supposes.

Astronomy was pretty fun, with staring at the night sky through telescopes and learning about all the different stars and their movements. It feels a bit like Camp Half-Blood, with all the constellations, even if all of their knowledge about the stars are very outdated. Come on, everyone knows by now that stars are just balls of gas that eventually turn into metal.

In the greenhouses was Herbology, which wasn’t too bad. At least now Lucas was pretty sure that he wouldn’t accidentally eat a poisonous magical plant. Or fungi. Although, what kind of maniac eats fungi without checking if it’s poisonous or not?

Charms wasn’t half bad, either. The spells were certainly easy to read, with their roots in either Greek or Latin. No complaints there. Transfiguration, although hard, was certainly exciting, too. 

Even Professor Quirrel, the professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts, was okay, too, even if he was a bit of a laughing stock and a coward. At the very least, he was better than Professor Binns.

Professor Binns taught History of Magic. Lucas hates him. Despises him, even. He feels nothing but rage. History should be an incredibly fun topic, especially when magic is added to the mix, and yet, Binns makes sure that History of Magic is nothing but sleep-inducing. It’s horrible. He’s horrible. The old man should be fired, and yet he isn’t. Everyone sleeps during his classes.

Then, Friday comes along, and Lucas slides onto his seat at the Slytherin Table, still groggy from sleep.

“Morning,” he mumbles, spearing some bacon and chewing on it thoughtlessly.

“Somebody’s awake,” Pansy teases. “C’mon, Draco, wake up. We’ve got Double Potions with the Gryffindors first thing, and you wouldn’t want to disappoint Snape in front of those Blood-Traitors, would you?”

Lucas heaves a sigh. He’s not going to face-plant into his breakfast. He’s not going to face-plant into his breakfast. He is an esteemed member of the Malfoy family, and he is not going to face-plant into his breakfast.

He spills his drink on Blaise Zabini instead. It’s funny enough, but Lucas is way too tired for this and after muttering a hasty apology, rushes out of the Great Hall instead.

“Hey, where are you going?” Pansy calls after him.

Lucas doesn’t respond. He walks faster, almost running through the halls, but that would be against the rules, wouldn’t it? He’s never been in a school where running in the halls was allowed, and he’s certain that Hogwarts is just the same. It’s been a week, enough time that Lucas has stopped getting that lost, but he’s still not entirely sure where he’s going. He just knows that he needs some time alone. He needs time.

Lucas stops. He takes a look around. He’s… somewhere. Where that is, he’s not quite sure, but all he knows is that he’s in a corridor that he hasn’t been in before, and he’s very, very lost. 

What is he doing? Why did he leave? Lucas isn’t sure anymore. Nevertheless, he’s lost, and he’s not quite sure how to not be lost.

The hall is lined with paintings, many of them with people. Lucas eyes them.

Well, he’s in the Wizarding World. He may as well accept the magic and get used to it.

^^^

Thanks to the help of the paintings, Lucas arrives at Potions early. Thank the gods. He is not looking forward to getting on Snape’s bad side, though he’s sure it’ll happen sooner or later. It’s always been like that. Even if he starts out strong, sooner or later his teachers all end up disappointed in him.

He’s glad. Snape is kind of scary.

The Potions classroom is located in one of the dungeons. It’s easily much colder than anywhere else in the castle, including the Slytherin dungeons and would've been creepy even without the pickled animals floating in jars that were adorned all over the room. Seriously. Lucas thinks he might be next.

The class had started by Snape taking the register, and when he got to Harry's name, he paused. "Ah, yes," he says quietly and softly. "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity."

What the fuck, Lucas thinks. What are you doing.

Crabbe and Goyle snicker. Lucas steps on their feet.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape begins, once he has finished calling names. His voice is barely a whisper, but every word is caught anyway. Like Professor McGonagall, Snape has the terrifying skill to keep a class silent without effort. "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."

Lucas rolls his eyes. Totally something you want to say to a bunch of eleven year-olds to make them love your field. Great job, Snape.

"Potter!" Snape suddenly exclaims. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

“I don’t know, Sir,” Harry replies. Behind him, Hermione Granger’s hand waves frantically in the air.

Snape's lip curls up in a sneer. "Tut, tut—fame clearly isn't everything." 

He continues to ignore Hermione's hand.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

Stomach of a goat? At least, Lucas thinks that’s what the textbook said. But surely Snape doesn’t expect Harry to remember every single little detail in One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, right?

Lucas's question is soon answered.

"I don't know, Sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" Snape asks him.

This isn’t fair. Why is he doing this? This isn’t teaching, this is straight-up bullying. Lucas has heard that Snape is pretty mean, but to single out one student?

Snape is still ignoring Hermione’s hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

Lucas glances at Harry, hoping that he could at least know one of them. Hermione has stood up. Monkshood and Wolfsbane are the same. Lucas doesn’t need anyone to tell him that. He had overheard a rather heated debate on plants by the Demeter cabin, and he had learned that they were different names for the same plant. 

"I don't know," Harry replies quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

At this, a few people laugh and Lucas bites his tongue to keep quiet, though he soon regrets doing this when he accidentally draws a bit of blood.

Snape, however, is not amused. "Sit down!" he snaps at Hermione. Lucas pulls out a sheet of parchment and a quill, assuming that Snape is going to reveal the answers. "For your information, Potter," he continues, "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. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There’s a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Lucas has already finished writing it down. 

"And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter," he tells Harry as the other students are copying it down.

As the lesson progresses, things become steadily worse for the Gryffindors, and Lucas can’t help but feel bad for the Gryffindors. Snape had put them all into pairs and set them to brewing a simple Cure for Boils potion. He sweeps across the classroom in his black robes, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing everyone except for Lucas, who he seems to like for some odd reason. Lucas certainly doesn’t like him. Snape is just informing the class of how well he had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing fills the room. Neville has somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted lump and their potion is dripping onto the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds the whole class stands on their stools while Neville, who has somehow managed to drench himself in the potion when Seamus's cauldron melted, moans in pain as boils springs up on his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" Snape hisses as he vanishes the spilt potion with a flick of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpers in pain as boils start to emerge on his nose. It’s a gruesome sight.

"Take him to the Hospital Wing," Snape orders Seamus. Then he turns to Harry and Ron, who were working next to them. "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? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

Harry opens his mouth, then closes it. Smart. Don’t mouth off to the scary teacher.

Lucas sighs, slumping in his seat. He can’t wait until this day is over.

^^^

The day passes, and Lucas spends his time in the library, reading obsessively about various points in history. Binns certainly isn’t going to teach him, so he might as well. Besides, sometimes the Slytherins get tiring.

The library is a nice reprieve. Here, he can be alone, in a blissfully silent atmosphere, with no one to bother him. He probably should be doing his homework, but come on, he’s got an entire stack of history books about a world he knows very little about. Why wouldn’t he do his best to become an expert in the Wizarding World’s history?

History has always been his thing, and along those same lines, so has mythology. It comes in handy, memorizing all the names of monsters and gods, alive or faded. Immortals are easily flattered, especially when they’re lesser known. It doesn’t really stop the monsters from trying to eat him, but it distracts them for long enough.

Lucas lets his book fall shut as he leans back in the chair. He could learn to get used to this.