Disclaimer:  Same as front.

Thank you, thank you to everyone that has reviewed this fic!  Although there are few of you, your reviews are so strong that it's keeping me going.  (As well as my ideas and my muse Remus. ^_^.)

Chapter 4:  The Firefly Urine

"Just a day, just an ordinary day,

Just tryin' to get by,

Just a boy, just an ordinary boy,

But he was looking to the sky, and,

As he asked me if I would come along,

I started to realize that everyday he finds just what he's lookin' for,

And like a shooting star he shines, and he said

Take my hand, live while you can,

Don't you see your dreams lie right in the palm of your hand?"

-Vanessa Carlton

            The sun peeked through the curtains of the Gryffindor common room, warming Harry's face and stirring him from his slumber.  Dragging himself to the bathroom, he felt relieved that his dream with the singing beast had not occurred again.  Perhaps it really was a one-time shot.

            He placed his glasses on the sink and turned on the tap.  Cupping the water in his hands, he splashed it on his face.  A freezing shock tingled his nerves and jolted him to full consciousness.  Looking up, he caught his reflection in the mirror.  His thick black hair stretched out in fifty different directions.  He tried to smooth part of it with a wet hand, but it just popped right back to the place it was before.  His eyes traced the line of his scar, not a light red gash in the morning cold.  It's hideous, he thought, and with those stupid glasses no wonder nobody looks twice at me.  But that was entirely untrue.  Everyone paid attention to famous Harry Potter, just not the kind of attention he wanted or person he wanted it from.  Returning his glasses to his face, the room came back into focus.  Just another day, he thought, and grabbed his comb to tackle his hair.

            Ron's morning regime consisted of sleeping until fifteen minutes before breakfast started, then racing around like a lunatic attempting to look decent for the day.  "Morning, Harry," he called cheerfully as he hopped into pants an inch too short.  "Sleep well?"

            "I did, actually," he answered, looking at his watch.  "You'd better hurry, Hermione'll get upset if we're late."

            Ron laughed as he pulled on his robes.  "She can wait till I'm good and ready.  It takes time to look this good, you know."  With that, he ran a brush through his hair once and pushed his bangs out of his face.  "Ok.  Ready."  He grinned and raced down the stairs, his hair still sticking up in the back from static.

            Hermione sat at a table in the common room, impatiently tapping her foot.  "What took you so long?" she cried, standing up.

            "Well, I was ready…" Harry trailed off.

            Hermione glared at Ron.  "What?" he exclaimed.  "I need my sleep!"

            "Your hair's a mess."

            "So?"

            She pulled her wand out of her robes.  "Gelustotalus!"  A strange mist shot from the end of her wand and struck Ron's hair.  Suddenly, it was perfectly bushed and styled.  It looked as though he'd spent hours on it.

            "Woah!" exclaimed Ron, rushing to the mirror on the wall.  "Where did you learn that?"

            "Hair care charms." Said Hermione with a smile, "Learn them.  Know them.  Love them.  How do you think I've survived the last four years with this beastly bush?"  She pointed to her own hair, which was neatly arranged in waves.

            They left the common room and reached the Great Hall just as the doors were closing (Ron, of course, had to stop and admire his hairdo in every reflective surface).  They sat, only to hear the beat of wings as the owls brought the day's letters and newspapers.  Hundreds of birds swept through the Great Hall, dropping things on their owners, who were so used to catching them that few even bothered to look up.  Hedwig dropped a letter in front of Harry.  Glancing at the unmarked envelope, he knew instantly that it was from Sirius Black.  Excitedly, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out the letter:

"Dear Harry,

            Glad you're away from those rotten Muggles?  Dumb question, I know.  Hope everything's going ok at Hogwarts.

            Buckbeak and I have finally reached Remus's.  Of course, he was thrilled to see me, but the hippogriff was another story.  Needless to say, Buckbeak is enjoying his time outside.

            I just wanted to send you this note to warn you to be careful and not to go looking for trouble.  These times are extremely dangerous, as I'm sure you've been told, and I know you know better than to do anything foolish.

            Remus sends his regards and says that he can't wait to see you fly again… which may be sooner than he thinks.

           

            Take care,

            Sirius"

            Harry happily passed the letter to Ron and Hermione.  "They're coming back to Hogwarts?" Ron cried as he finished reading.

            "Shhhh," said Hermione, putting a finger to her lips.  "That's so dangerous for him to return here.  What is he thinking?"

            "I'm sure that Sirius has it all figured out," Harry replied in a low voice.  "He wouldn't just jump into something without efficiently planning first."  Harry folded the letter and tucked it in his pocket.

            Breakfast was pancakes and the trio hungrily stuffed them down.  When he finished, Ron picked up his copy of The Daily Prophet and let out a groan.  "Not another one."

            He placed the newspaper in front of Harry.  "Second Auror Death in Ireland, Ministry Clueless."  Harry's heart sank as he scanned the article.  "…found dead, wrists slit, in a suburb of Dublin… no witnesses…  Avada Kedavra hexes found all over the body…Ministry is still mum as to who may be committing these murders."  "But it's so obvious who's killing them," said Harry.  "It's Voldemort."

            Ron cringed visibly.  "But why won't the Ministry just say so then?"

            "Because they're still denying his existence," said Hermione.  "You heard Fudge in the hospital wing last year.  He doesn't even want to entertain the idea because it may ruin his career."

            "Slimeball," Ron muttered and Harry shook his head.

            "But Dumbledore told everyone last year, after Cedric's death," Harry said.  "So some people must know and believe."

            "The others are stupid then," Ron replied, and, ripping the article from the paper, put it in his pocket.  "What class do we have first?"

            "Potions," Hermione deadpanned.

            The three stood to leave when Harry was suddenly grabbed by an excited Angelina Johnson.  "I'm just borrowing him for a second," she called to Ron and Hermione as she dragged him into a corner.  Angelina was the new captain of Gryffindor's quidditch team, as well as a house prefect.  "We're gonna have our first quidditch practice tomorrow night," she said elatedly.  "We're also going to hold tryouts for our new keeper then.  Do you have any ideas as to who might try out?"

            "I don't know," Harry answered.  "I haven't heard anyone talking about it."

            Angelina's dark eyes glittered.  "It's gonna be so weird without Oliver.  I just hope I'll be as good a captain as he was."

            "You'll be great, Angelina," said Harry confidently.  "Everyone on the team loves you."

            She blushed.  "Thanks Harry… Well, if you know of anyone who you think would make a good keeper, just let me know.  I'd better get going.  I've got to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts."

            "Oh, lucky!" cried Harry, "Ron, Hermione, and I have…" He turned around to find his friends gone.  "Uh… Potions," he finished, puzzled.

            "Ooh, that sucks," said Angelina.  "See ya, Harry."  With a wave, she left the Great Hall.

            Harry followed her out but turned towards the dungeons.  Why did they just leave? He thought as he opened the door to Snape's classroom.  He was the last to arrive, but wasn't late, though Professor Snape glared at him nonetheless.  He plopped into a chair next to Ron and Hermione.

            "Sorry we left you," Ron whispered.  "Hermione thought we'd be late."

            Harry nodded and glanced around the room.  To his amazement, he was not greeted by a slew of arrogant kids with green and silver ties.  No, the group that sat across the aisle from him wore blue and black.  We actually have a class with the Ravenclaws! Thought Harry excitedly.  This was almost too good to be true.  Now Snape wouldn't be able to torture the Gryffindors nearly as much.  By the exceptionally sour look on Professor Snape's face, Harry could tell that he'd realized this as well.  Behind Snape sat Miss McAllister, leaning her head against the only window in the classroom.  Every few seconds, her eyes would close and she would snap them open again.  Despite the weary look on her face, she was dressed impeccably in a white blouse and black pants with a black work robe covering it.

            The class started and Professor Snape droned on as he usually did.  The students passed up their essays (Ron just scowled) and Snape collected them, dumping them on the table in front of Miss McAllister.  She picked up a quill and was about to unroll the first scroll, when a deadly look from Snape caused her to drop her quill.

            Professor Snape lectured for a half-an-hour on the uses of a glow-in-the-dark concoction, then instructed the students to make one themselves.  Hermione reluctantly paired herself with Lavender Brown, since Lavender's usual partner partner, Pavarti Patil, had scurried across the room to pair with her twin Padma.  Harry and Ron gathered the ingredients for their potion and hovered over their cauldron.

            "What is the point of this?" said Ron, pouring a bit of firefly urine into the cauldron.  "I mean, when am I ever going to use this?"

            "If you're stuck some place dark, I guess."

            "Oh of course.  I'm going to spend all this time making a potion instead of just grabbing my wand and saying Lumos."

            Across the room, Quinn was paired with a girl named Wanda Delaney, who had bushy blonde hair.  Her head nodded as she added her root of asphodel.  She had, of course, woken up screaming halfway through the night and awakened the entire dorm.  She was stupid to have thought that she wouldn't have the nightmare- the nightmare she couldn't even remember.  It had been happening to her for over three weeks and she still hadn't been able to recall more than a minute of the dream.  The girls had been very kind to her after their sudden awakening, but Quinn could tell that they were slightly annoyed.  And it was bound to happen again.  What was she supposed to do about this?

            Miranda, meanwhile, had grown bored of sitting in the corner while Snape pretended she didn't exist, and decided to walk around the room and see how the kids were doing.  She approached a pair of Gryffindors, one of whom was the Finnegan boy Snape had yelled at the previous evening.  He grinned up at her and pointed at his potion.  "Good morning, Miss McAllister," he said cheerfully.  "Are we making our potion right?"

            Miranda froze and stared at the cauldron.  A cold sweat broke out over her forehead.  "Um… yes," she stammered.  "That's excellent… uh…"

            "Seamus Finnegan," said the boy proudly.  "And this is Dean Thomas."

            "Nice to meet you," she replied.  "That's a lovely brew you've got there, boys." 

            Escape!  Now!  Miranda moved quickly to the next table where a redhead and a boy with black hair and glasses were engrossed in quiet conversation.  She jumped as she recognized him as Harry Potter, having completely forgotten that he attended Hogwarts.  A million-and-a-half questions popped into Miranda's mind but she checked them all.  Everyone would wonder if she started asking strange questions.  With a sigh, she moved on.

            Quinn stood from her desk.  "I'll go get the firefly urine," she told Wanda and walked to Snape's desk.  He glanced up at her with cold black eyes as she grabbed a vial of firefly urine.  She turned quickly to avoid his malevolent stare.  Her head spun from her lack of sleep and the putrid smell of the firefly urine.  She stumbled forward, completely oblivious to Seamus's transfiguration book sitting in the middle of the aisle.  It caught her foot, and she felt her body launching forward, the vial slipping from her fingers.  She hit the ground first, then the vial smacked the stone floor, glass exploding, and the firefly urine, spreading out in a green, glowing mess.

            Snape was on his feet in an instant and hovering menacingly over Quinn.  "Do you know how expensive that stuff is?" he growled.  "And how difficult it is to clean up?  Stupid clumsy girl."

            "Hey!"  Miranda's kind smile was replaced with an angry glare in two seconds.  "Don't you dare talk to my sister that way!"

            "She's my student and I'll talk to her however I want," he shot back.  "Ten points from Ravenclaw for the younger Miss McAllister's carelessness."

            The room was dead silent and the ground beneath Quinn's stomach grew colder.

            "But it wasn't her fault," said a black-haired boy with glasses who sat in the chair above her head.  "She didn't see Seamus's book in the aisle."

            "Did I ask for a commentary, Potter?" hissed Snape.  "Another crack and I'll take more points from Gryffindor."

            Suddenly a hand reached out and picked up Quinn's glasses, which had landed inches from the spilled firefly urine.  Another hand then clutched hers and pulled her to her feet.  The black-haired boy handed her the glasses and placed them on her face.  Harry Potter!  Just the person she hadn't wanted to bother.  "Thanks," she mumbled, turning bright red.

            "Don't mention it," he replied.

            A bundle of rags fell at Quinn's feet.  "Get cleaning," Snape said and sat down at his desk.

She sunk to her knees and was shocked as Harry followed her.  "Oh," she cried, "you don't have to…"

"I don't mind," he said, grabbing a rag.  "It's better than making Snape's stupid potion."

They wiped up the firefly urine, which turned the rags, as well are their hands in spots where they chanced to get it, a neon yellow.  Miranda came over with an empty bucket to put the dirty rags in.  Squatting, she patted Quinn on the head.  "Don't you worry about it,' she said soothingly.  "It was just an accident."  Quinn didn't even look up from her scrubbing, trying not to let the angry tears in her eyes fall.  Miranda mouthed a silent "Thank you" to Harry, then went back to her table in the corner, giving Snape a look that would have curdled milk.  She marveled at how one man could be so utterly rude.

The class ended and the floor still glowed.  As the students got up to leave, Ron looked down on Harry and Quinn.  "I'll meet you guys there," said Harry.  Ron shrugged and trotted off with Hermione.  Harry rubbed the floor harder, but the glow still remained.

"That's good enough," said Snape, still grading the summer essays.  "The floor will glow for a good week, as will your hands."  Harry stood, grabbed the bucket, and placed it on Snape's desk.  He picked up his things and headed for the door, Quinn behind him.

"Bye Miranda," she called.

"Have a good lunch," her sister replied as Harry shut the door.  They walked side by side, Harry glancing at his yellow hands.  "Pity we're not in Hufflepuff," he said.  "We'd get awards for house pride."

Quinn giggled and pushed her glasses up her nose.

"Oh by the way," he said, "my name's…"

"Harry Potter.  I know."  She finished.  Of course.  Everyone knew who he was.

"Yeah…" Harry trailed off.  "You're name's Quinn, right?"

She nodded.  "And Miss McAllister is my older sister, if you couldn't tell."

"I suspected that," Harry replied.  "Poor thing, stuck with Snape all the time.  Now you see why we all hate him."

"What an ass, seriously."  Quinn knitted her eyebrows and stared at the floor.  "I was just so tired that I didn't see the book.  I guess it was my fault…"

Harry's eyes scanned Quinn.  She had the same build and structure as her sister, but different features, the most obvious being her brown hair and glasses.  They were very much alike other than that, Harry noticed, except for the minute observation that Quinn's lips didn't turn up in quite the same way that her sister's did.  "Snape is just out to make everyone's lives miserable," Harry told her.  "Don't let him get to you."

Quinn smiled.  "I'll try not to."

They walked in silence for a bit, until Harry became uncomfortable.  "So… you guys are from Ireland?"

"Yeah.  Dublin."

"Why did you guys leave?"

The look on Quinn's face clearly indicated that Harry had touched a nerve.  "Oh…" she stammered.  "Well, my sister couldn't get an internship at McMurphy's, so we had to come here."

What about your parents?  Thought Harry, but decided not to ask.  "Oh.  She must really like Potions."

"Yeah." Quinn replied distantly.  "She has a great passion for Potions.  Alchemy really."

They stepped into the Great Hall and stopped in front of the open doors.  "Well, thanks for helping me," she said.  "It was nice meeting you."

"You're welcome." He replied.  "You'll have to meet my friends Ron and Hermione."

Quinn's eyes lit up.  "Sure.  I'd like that."

"Ok," answered Harry.  "Guess I'll see you later."

Quinn waved and they parted ways.  Harry sat down across from Ron and Hermione who were demurely chewing their turkey sandwiches.  "That was nice of you," Hermione commented.

"Thanks," said Harry, grabbing a sandwich.  "She seems nice.  Kind of sad and quiet though."

Ron shrugged.  "What did Angelina ask you about?"

"Quidditch," he said.  "The tryouts are tomorrow."

"Ohhh," Ron groaned.  "Why does it have to be a keeper opening?  I suck at keeper."

"Oh, you'll do fine," Hermione reassured.

Ron's eyes narrowed.  "No, I won't, Hermione.  This isn't just some test or something, this is my one shot to be on the team and I don't want to blow it!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" she snapped.  "I was trying to make you feel better!"

"Well, don't.  You're not very good at it."

Hermione had no response for this, so they both just glared tight-lipped at their lunch plates. 

Harry sighed.  Just another day.

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