The Call of the Siren

Chapter 3

Harry

Harry awoke to the sound of Ron's snoring the next morning. Looking at his watch, he groaned as he realized it was time to get up and get the day started. It didn't help that his first class was Potions. Dealing with Snape first so early in the morning wasn't Harry's idea of a fun start.

Drawing the curtains, Harry saw that it was a bright, sunny day, perfect for practicing Quidditch. He was definitely looking forward to fulfilling his position as Gryffindor Quidditch Team Captain. It helped to squash some of the disappointment he'd felt since last year about not being named a Prefect. There were some positions Harry knew that he needed to fill this year since some of the players had graduated and left Hogwarts, and Harry wasn't looking forward to tryouts. Oh well. That was part of being the Captain, after all.

Harry showered and dressed quickly, and then went back to his room to shake Ron awake. Ron was always so hard to get up in the morning, especially on the first day of classes. It was a wonder he made it to his first class at all.

"Ron, get up. C'mon, Mate. Time to get ready for class," said Harry as he forcefully shook Ron's shoulder.

"Bloody hell, Harry. Let's just skip it today, OK?" Ron mumbled as he yawned hugely.

"We can't do that, especially on the first day. Now get up! We'll be late for breakfast."

Muttering darkly to himself, Ron reluctantly pulled back the covers and peeled himself out of bed. He staggered off to the shower while Harry waited for him in their room. When Ron emerged, they ambled down to the Great Hall to begin the morning with breakfast.

Harry and Ron slid into their chairs and noticed that Hermione was already there. "What took the two of you so long?" she asked, giving them a quizzical look.

"My fault, Hermione," Ron grumbled as he stuffed his mouth full of sausages. "Mmm, good," Ron proclaimed around a mouthful of food.

"You are disgusting sometimes, Ronald," scolded Hermione while Harry laughed.

Just then, Harry saw Carrie approaching their table. She was wearing pretty sky blue robes that billowed around her as she walked gracefully across the floor. She looked as if she were floating, and Harry couldn't help but notice how lovely she looked. Her long, blond hair fell down her back in masses of curls rather than the waves he saw her wearing the day before. She looked about half asleep as she flopped into the empty chair next to him.

"Coffee," she grumbled as she propped her head on her hand.

"Good morning, sunshine," grinned Hermione.

"Says who?" Carrie was not a morning person.

Ron snickered as he watched Carrie. "Better get the woman some coffee, Mate."

"Coming right up, Carrie," said Harry as he passed her the pot.

Carrie nodded as she poured herself a cup of strong, black coffee. She just didn't have the energy yet to even mutter a thank you. Carrie held the cup in her hands and took a whiff of the coffee fumes as the steam rose up to greet her nostrils. She took a long sip and nearly sighed with relief as the strong brew made its way to her stomach. As she drank, she felt the caffeine begin to take effect. "Ah, that's better. Hey, thanks, Harry."

"You're worse than I am in the morning," said Ron. This was the first complete sentence he'd said to Carrie since they met yesterday, but Carrie didn't notice.

"I am pretty bad," she laughed. "I need about two cups of coffee to get myself rocking and rolling in the mornings. I'm pathetic."

The four Gryffindors talked amongst themselves as they ate. Harry found that Carrie was easy to talk to—once she had her coffee. He asked about her arrival at Hogwarts, and she told him about leaving home, the ride on the Hogwarts Express, and meeting Dumbledore. "After we got my schedule straightened out, my parents stayed for dinner and we met some of the other teachers. Um, let's see. I met Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sinistra. Oh, and Hagrid met us at Hogsmeade Station and brought us to the castle. I haven't met them all yet though. I spent most of my time in the library trying to read up on what we'd be studying. It's rather creepy here when there are only a few people here."

"I usually stay here over the winter holiday," said Harry. "A few of us do, and yes, sometimes it is a bit creepy when there's only a small group left behind."

Breakfast drew to a close as they talked. True to Hermione's nature, she reminded everyone that they'd better get to class or Snape would deduct house points. Carrie turned inquiring eyes on Harry and his friends at the mention of Snape. "Who's he?" she asked.

"He's the Potions teacher," said Harry in disgust, as he narrowed his green eyes. "Whatever you do, don't cross him. He's impossible to deal with, and he has a strong dislike for Gryffindors."

"He really hates Harry," said Ron. "He has since the day Harry got here."

"But why?" asked Carrie. "How could someone just hate you right off the bat? I don't understand."

"It's because Harry's famous," said Hermione, a note of authority in her voice. It was quite obvious to Carrie that Hermione liked to be the informative one.

"And he's famous because of what You-Know-Who did," Carrie said as she lowered her voice to a whisper.

The other three nodded and Carrie shrugged. "Hell of a thing to be famous for," she surmised. Carrie's gaze caught the lightning bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead, and she gave him a sympathetic look.

They walked in silence to their Potions class and took their seats, waiting for Snape to begin the lesson. As Snape entered the room, he fixed Harry with a cold stare, and Harry's lips thinned in a line of disapproval as Snape walked, very slowly, to the front of the room.

"Today, we will be studying sleeping draughts. We will learn about the reasons for their usage, their effects, side effects, and the dangers in using them. You will be preparing one today in this classroom, and I expect top quality work. After all, you are here in this class because of your high marks on your O.W.L.'s. I trust that you all have the amount of intelligence required to pass this sixth year class." Snape then sneered at Harry and continued. "I stand corrected. Not all of you possess the intelligence to pass this class." It was obvious to everyone in the classroom who Snape was talking about. Harry's face turned red with anger and embarrassment while Carrie gaped in confusion at this dark figure standing before them.

At Snape's command, the students opened their books and listened while Snape talked about sleeping draughts and their properties. He then told the class it was time to make the potion. While everyone was getting their cauldrons ready, Harry leaned over and whispered to Carrie, "See, I told you. He's always like that."

"He gives me the willies," said Carrie as she shook her head in bewilderment.

"Just stay out of his way and don't give him cause to yell at you," advised Hermione.

Harry was deep in concentration as he began mixing his potion. As he worked, he became aware of beautiful singing close by. Glancing up, he glimpsed Carrie, lost in her potion making while singing as she happily mixed and stirred. Harry was enthralled! He felt himself begin to relax as he listened to her, the knots of tension loosening from his muscles. Carrie's sweet soprano voice carried to his ears and floated around him. A sense of calmness and contentment flowed through Harry as he listened. There was something about her voice that affected him this way. What was it? He noticed it when he heard her speak, and it was even more prevalent as she sang. There was just something about that voice!

"Miss Stafford," Snape said as he approached the front of Carrie's table. "You will remain quiet during Potion making. This is not a concert hall. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes, Sir," said Carrie meekly. "I'm really sorry."

"Consider this a warning, Miss Stafford. Next time I will deduct house points from Gryffindor. If you persist in your caterwauling after that, you will find yourself in detention." Snape then turned his back on a shocked and confused Carrie. She lowered her gaze and obscured her face behind a curtain of long hair as she continued to work on her potion.

Harry was livid. Snape was nasty, he knew, but there was no reason to yell at Carrie. Harry figured he wasn't the only one who enjoyed her singing, but he also wondered if he was the only one who was affected so deeply by it. He hadn't wanted her to stop singing. In fact, he felt as if he could listen to Carrie sing forever. A sense of loss came over Harry as the sound of Carrie's sweet voice died away, and he found himself longing for her to sing again.

Harry's reverie and fuming were interrupted as Ron leaned over to whisper to him. "She looks embarrassed," he said as he moved his gaze toward where Carrie was working.

Harry looked toward her but couldn't see her face clearly. Her hair was hiding her face, and she was hunched over her cauldron, stirring furiously. "I feel terrible for her. Snape didn't have to yell at her like that. I like her singing, in fact. It must help her to concentrate. There's no crime in that."

Potions class rolled along slowly, and Harry was counting the minutes until it ended. As he completed the last step to making his potion, he looked over toward Carrie again and saw that she had already corked her vial and was cleaning up. Ron was right. She did look embarrassed. He hoped for an opportunity to be able to talk with her again soon. Harry filled and corked his own vial and gave Snape a dirty look as he took his sample up to Snape's desk. Harry was still rather put out about Snape's treatment of Carrie. It was one thing for Snape to pick on him, and that was bad enough. But, when he ranted and raved at someone he liked, Harry's temper flared.

Harry began to examine his thoughts as he went to his desk to collect his things. Did he like Carrie? He'd only met her the night before. She seemed nice enough, and she was easy to talk to, but he hardly knew her. She'd told him a little about her family, but what kind of person was this girl? She was truly lovely, and he yearned to listen to her sing again. Right now, Harry just didn't know what to make of this American.

"Harry, are you listening? Hey, Harry!" Hermione was waving her hand in front of his face. She'd been talking to him, but Harry hadn't heard a thing she said.

"Er, sorry Hermione. I was just—"

"Wool gathering," she shot back. "What's going on with you today, Harry?"

"Nothing," he mumbled. He didn't want to admit to either Ron her Hermione that he'd been thinking about Carrie or how he wanted to hear her sing again. They'd only say he was mental.

The rest of the day flew by as the students went from class to class. The first day back in session was always a busy one. Throughout the day, Harry found himself glancing at Carrie from time to time, but she was always engrossed in what she was working on. He noticed that she'd been quiet ever since Snape's class, and in spite of himself, his heart went out to her. It must be hard being the new kid in school, especially in another country.

He shook his head and mentally slapped himself. What on earth was wrong with him? Why was he so concerned about Carrie so much? What was it about her that made his insides turn to mush and his heart beat faster? She was just a pretty girl with a lovely singing voice, that's all.

Harry was rather relieved when the last class of the day was over. He'd found it difficult to concentrate today, and Hermione, being the astute person she was, noticed it right away.

"Harry, are you alright?" she asked in concern as the three friends were walking to the Great Hall for diner. "You seem distracted, like your mind isn't with us. What is it?"

"It's nothing, Hermione. I'm fine," said Harry, trying to reassure his bookish friend.

"Somehow, I don't believe you," she said softly. "Come on, Harry, out with it. You know you can tell Ron and me anything. What's eating you?"

Harry stopped walking and beckoned Ron and Hermione away from the crowd of students and teachers on their way to dinner. They made their way to an empty corner of the hallway, and Harry looked around before whispering quietly to his friends. "I don't know. It's that new girl, Carrie. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something about her, something that's—um—not normal," he said as he ran his fingers through his untidy black hair, making it even messier.

"She looks normal to me," said Ron. "In fact, she's gorgeous!"

"I'm not talking about looks, Ron," said Harry, trying to put it into words. "You're right, she is pretty, but that's not what I'm talking about." Harry threw up his hands and sighed in frustration.

"What do you mean, Harry? You don't think she's a spy for Voldemort or something like that, do you?" Hermione was looking at her friend closely.

"No. I don't know—no, I don't think that's it. It's—well—it's her voice," said Harry. "There's something about her voice that's not like anyone else's, especially when she sings. I can't explain it." Harry shrugged his shoulders as his thoughts jumbled themselves up in his head.

"Her voice is very pleasant to listen to," said Ron. "I love listening to her talk. She has such a neat accent."

"I don't think Harry is talking about her accent, Ron," said Hermione. "I noticed it, too. It's like there's magic in her very speech, and I'm positive there's magic in her singing. She sings beautifully, and it's obvious that she's a trained singer."

"It's strange," Harry mused. "I felt as if I'd lost something important to me when she stopped singing. I just wanted her to continue."

"Don't tell us you're actually in love with her, Harry," said Ron, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," scoffed Hermione. "He only met her yesterday just like the rest of us."

"She's right, Ron," Harry confirmed. "That's not what I'm feeling. As I said, it's her voice. It does—something—to me."

"Be careful, Harry," Hermione warned. "You don't know this girl very well, and it already sounds like she's affecting you in certain ways."

"Don't worry, Hermione. I will be careful," Harry smiled reassuringly at his friends.

The friends finally made it to the Great Hall and found that dinner had already gotten underway. As Harry took his seat, he found himself seated next to Carrie again, and he couldn't help but hear snatches of the animated conversation she was having with Neville Longbottom.

"I'm telling you, Neville. My thumb is so black, I could kill Devil's Snare just by touching it." Carrie was laughing as she talked.

"Herbology really isn't that hard, Carrie. You just have to have a knack for it," he was explaining. Herbology was Neville's forte, and it was something he never became tired of talking about with anyone.

"Which is something I don't have," said Carrie as she grinned. "I think I'll just stick with the singing, thank you very much."

Neville smiled shyly back at her and then turned to his dinner. Carrie adjusted herself in her chair and smiled as she saw Harry and his friends. "Hi, you guys," she said cheerfully.

"Hi, Carrie," said Hermione. "How did you like your first day of classes?"

"Oh, it was great, except for Snape's class. You all were right about him. I can see I'm going to have to watch my step around him," Carrie said as she smiled sheepishly. "I'd better try to remember not to sing in there again."

"It was really pretty, Carrie," said Ron as he blushed scarlet.

"Thanks," she grinned at him.

"I wish you could have kept singing," said Harry. "It really was lovely."

"Thanks, Harry." Carrie smiled warmly at him, her blue eyes twinkling. "At least I know I'm appreciated by some folks."

Harry's heart gave a leap as Carrie smiled at him, and that voice of hers was like honey. Stop it, Potter! Get your mind and yourself back down to earth. Pull yourself together and don't make a fool of yourself, Harry scolded himself. Carrie was just an ordinary witch from America, and her sole purpose was to get her education just like the rest of the students at Hogwarts. He didn't need to complicate his life by pining over some girl he barely knew.

Harry finished the remainder of his dinner in silence. He knew Hermione was eyeing him critically, but he didn't care. He excused himself from the table, thinking that tonight would be a perfect night for a moonlight broom ride. Harry always found this to be a relaxing way to calm down an overactive mind.