Chicken Guts in My Blister

"Well, that was rather a waste of time, wasn't it?"

Rebecca Taliesin turned in her chair and raised her eyebrows at her best friend's statement. Jemma Bemo shrugged. "Well, it was. There is not a single person in Ravenclaw who can sing. Although I will say that Morag McDougall ain't a bad yodeller."

Rebecca scratched her chin. She had to admit - after a long day of auditioning - Ravenclaw was definitely not a musically talented house. "You know, yodelling could -"

"No." Jemma, leaning against a desk, cut her off. "Absolutely no yodelling. At least not for now. Not until we've got ourselves a singer."

"Hey, I've got the backing vocals under control, thankyou very much. And yeah, we'll find the singing geniuses that we're looking for. Just not in our house. I'll talk to Ginny Weasley and get her to put up a notice in Gryffindor tower. We'll do more auditions next Saturday. I'll check it's okay with Snape to use this dungeon again." Rebecca stood up, stretched and yawned - it was well after midnight.

"We'll have to try Slytherin as well then, I suppose. Roger will be happy about that. I'll ask Jessica to stick a notice up, she's decent enough for a Slytherin. Are we even gonna bother trying Hufflepuff?" Jemma began to pack up her things into her book bag.

"Jem..."

"Alright, alright. But Hannah Abbot is gonna murder us when she finds out that someone is rivalling her idiot of a boyfriend and his friends." They left the dungeon and headed for the West Wing of the castle.

"Well someone has too. They suck."

"Too true, too true."

They arrived back in the Ravenclaw common room to find it empty, save one person. Luna Lovegood was sitting alone in front of the fireplace, humming to herself. She was always odd, but she looked even odder that evening as she was wearing her school cloak as a turban on her head.

"There's your singing genius." Rebecca muttered in Jemma's ear.

Jemma grinned and they began climbing the girls' stairs to the fifth year dormitory. "You know, it's a shame that Luna didn't show up for auditions - her humming didn't sound that bad."

Harry Potter walked into the Gryffindor common room to find Ginny struggling to attach a small sign in the only free space at the top of the noticeboard.

"Need a hand, Gin?"

Ginny turned around, dazed. "What? Oh, Harry - thanks! I really can't get this sign to stick."

Harry tacked it up easily, as he was much taller than she was. "What's this all about then, anyway?"

"Oh, Bec just asked me to put this up for her, that's all."

"Bec? Who's that?"

Ginny shook her head in annoyance. "Honestly Harry, you're in your sixth year at Hogwarts now and you hardly know anyone here!"

"That's not true!" Harry shot back indignantly.

"Yes it is. Besides the other Gryffindors in your year, the members of the D.A. and Draco Malfoy, you don't know a single person's name!"

"There's plenty of other people that I know."

Ginny put her hands on her hips and smirked at him. "Really? Name someone."

"Er..." Harry racked his brains. "Pansy Parkinson!"

He shot Ginny a triumphant grin. Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Name one of her friends then."

Harry felt the grin slide of his face. He didn't have a clue. He'd gone to school with those girls for five years and he didn't know their names. He'd sat in Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Flying lessons - and he didn't know them. They were just this gang that hung around Pansy, and Malfoy on occasion.

Ginny shot him a scathing look. "See, Harry. There are what, a few hundred students in this school and you would be able to name about fifteen of them. Did you ever think that maybe if you actually spoke to people, there mightn't be so many nasty whispers about you all the time? You're so self-absorbed sometimes."

And with that, Ginny flounced away to the other side of the room and sat down with a group of fifth years, none of whom, Harry realised, he knew the names of.

Ginny was angry at him now, and for some reason that felt worse than, say, when Hermione was angry with him. Then again, Hermione got angry with Harry quite regularly, but for Ginny to do it was unusual. It made him feel rather uneasy.

Attention Gryffindors: Can you sing? Well? If so, and you're interested in developing your skills, please contact Jemma Bemo or Rebecca Taliesin, of Ravenclaw by Saturday.

Harry realised he was staring blankly at the sign that he had helped Ginny put up. He supposed he should really get to know the other students. But this sign didn't help him at all. Harry knew for a fact that he could definitely not sing. There had to be some activity he could get involved in...

A shadow fell on Draco's parchment. He looked up from the essay he was writing. Pansy was standing over him, a sickening smile fixed on her face.

"I thought you looked lonely, Draco." Her voice, as usual, was breathy and fluttery, and Draco was amused to realise that it reminded him very much of a certain ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He scratched the back of his neck and returned to his essay. He didn't have time for Pansy anymore. She was incredibly annoying and she wasn't pretty. Draco could not be bothered with any girl who wasn't good looking. Girls were only good for one thing, and that one thing was completely unwanted if the girl was ugly.

Pansy decided to ignore his lack of response and tried a different approach. "You know, there's a sign up on the noticeboard about a new band that's forming. I'm thinking of auditioning."

For some reason, this got Draco's attention. He'd known Pansy for years and he'd never known that she could play an instrument. "What, do you play guitar or something?"

Pansy shook her head in indignation. "No, silly. They're looking for a singer. I'm going to sing. I have quite a nice voice, if I do say so myself."

Draco smirked gleefully. Pansy's singing sounded like rabid Augureys mating. Watching that audition had the prospect of being the most fun he would have all year. And with his father in Azkaban and the gossip that was going around Hogwarts, there would be a good chance that Pansy's audition would be the only fun he'd be having that year.

He turned back to her. "Pansy, I'm going to come with you to your audition. You know, to show my support."

Pansy caught her breath and beamed at him. "Oh, Draco, that would be wonderful! I would have so much more confidence knowing that you were watching and that you cared! Thankyou!"

With that, she ran off to her friends sitting on the large green couch in the corner of the room. As Draco overheard her tell her friends how he would be supporting her singing aspirations, he smiled to himself and returned to his parchment.

The snake stared at Cleo unblinkingly. She stared back at it, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what she should do. Snakes struck on sudden movement - she knew that. But she couldn't just stay there all day. She made up her mind and moved away. Quick as a flash, the snake lashed out towards her, fangs bared as it aimed for her neck. Thunk. It hit the glass and fell back down to the floor of the tank.

Cleo shook her head in amusement. It did that every time. She just hated seeing the snake repeatedly making the same mistake over and over again. She turned to the snake's owner, who was lounging on the bed next to her, reading a magazine.

"Honestly Bec, I don't know why you'd want to keep a snake. The turtle and lizard are alright, but a snake is so Slytherin."

Rebecca looked up at her. "Firstly, it's snakes. I have three. Secondly, Poindexter is a gecko, not a lizard. And lastly, you're the one with a pet sock."

"Sock Man is not a pet. I just named him because I lost his partner, and I thought he was lonely."

Rebecca nodded patronisingly. "Yes, because socks get oh so lonely... I think my point is made on that one." She checked her watch. "Anyway, I've gotta go, my dear. The auditions start in an hour, and Roger and Jemma promised that they'd come and help me."

Cleo grinned and motioned for her roommate to leave the room. "Go then. Leave me be - I don't need you."

Rebecca smirked at her. "Of course not, you've got Sock Man to keep you company."

She ducked, as a shrieking Cleo threw a pillow at her head.

"Dennis Creevey?"

The small boy grinned at her. "Yeah, that's me."

"What's that for?"

"What, this?" He pulled out a ukulele from under his cloak. "Well, I know you guys didn't specify one, but I thought maybe you'd be interested in a ukulele player."

Jemma couldn't help but smile as Rebecca buried her head in her hands. Ignoring her friend's moment of despair, she turned back to Dennis. "I'm sorry Creevey, but we're really looking for a singer. Can you sing?"

"Yeah sure." He took a deep breath. "PLAY THAT FUNK-Y MUUUSIC, WHIIIIIIITEBOOOOOOOOOOY.... PLAY THAT FUNK-Y MUUUSIC RIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHHHHTTTTTTTT......"

Jemma cut him off. "Uh, that's uh, very nice Creevey, but uh, you're not quite the sound that we're after."

Dennis saluted her. "That's okay. But if you ever need a ukulele player, don't forget who to call."

And with that, he walked out of the dungeon. Rebecca looked up to the ceiling. "God help us."

She turned to Jemma. "Who's next?"

Jemma scanned the parchment in front of her. "Uh... Pansy Parkinson. Sixth year, Slytherin."

As she said this, a pug faced girl scurried into the room, lazily followed by a tall, blonde boy. The girl turned to Jemma. "I hope you don't mind, that I bought Draco with me," she indicated to the boy behind her, who smirked in acknowledgement, "but he's supporting me."

Rebecca leaned forward, interested. "You mean, he's singing too?"

The smug look on the boy's face was replaced with a look a disgust. "You're joking, right?" he drawled, "singing is for pansies." He turned to the girl, his voice dripping with amusement. "Hey, that really works for you, doesn't it?'