Hi everyone!

This is another revised version of Life in the shadows; Amy Potter.

Hopefully this version will be better. I'll be changing a lot but the essence will stay the same.

Hope you like it :) Aoife.

Disclaimer; original story, contents, chapters and characters belong to the great JK. I own nothing etc.

Chapter 1

Amy glared out the window as she washed the lunch plates. Everyone else was outside enjoying the sunshine in the little patch of garden behind Wool's orphanage while she was forced to stay back and clean up after the food fight that she had been blamed for starting. Already she had scrubbed the floor, walls and table in the large dining room and her back ached as she leaned over the low sink. She muttered under her breath at the unfairness of it all, catching the attention of Mrs Finnegan, the cook, who was passing through to the pantry to begin sorting out whatever foul thing she was going to serve up for dinner that evening.

"What are you grumbling about now Evans? I'd swear you like doing all these extra chores, sure why else would you act up all the time."

Amy chose to ignore the clear baiting. Mrs Finnegan loved nothing more than to rile her up on a normal day when she was being punished for something she didn't do but on a special occasion like today, what with there being food involved, food that the old bat had prepared herself, she knew nothing good could come of her opening her mouth.

"How do you manage it? Every time something breaks or there's a fight you're right there in the middle of it all. Doesn't it wear you out to be so badly behaved all the time?"

Amy gritted her teeth and tried to focus on scrubbing a particularly stubborn chunk of mystery meat off the plate she was washing. Her blood felt hot in her veins and her hands, submerged in the warm soapy water, began to shake. The heat spread to her fingers and suddenly the water began to bubble fiercely. Shocked, she whipped her hands from the sink and took a step back just before the water evaporated entirely. Hearing a gasp from behind her, she turned to see that the cooks' eyes were wide as she stared at Amy's hand, still grasping the plate she had been scrubbing a moment before. Confused, she took a closer look.

At first she couldn't see what was making the cooks eyes wide as saucers, the aged and cracked disc of flower patterned porcelain was still wet and so was sending drips of water onto the black and white chequered tiles below. Realisation suddenly hit her. The plate was no longer wet and the little puddles on the floor seemed to have the same little pink flowers on their surface. The plate was melting.

She dropped it and what was left of it hit the floor with a smash, scattering small pieces all over the tiles. She looked at her hand to find that it was quickly fading from bright red to its normal pale hue from her wrist down to her fingers. Only then did she dare walk back to the sink and look at the mess within.

"Well you've certainly done it now!" shrieked Mrs Finnegan. "This takes the biscuit! You won't be seeing the light of day for the rest of the summer once Mrs Crowley hears about this."

Amy didn't argue. The old bat was right. There was no way she could explain this, not even to herself. She didn't move a muscle from the time the cook rushed out to rat her out until the dramatic and furious entry of the old matron, Mrs Crowley, who had been at the end of her rope with Amy even before the food fight.

"Look Martha, didn't I tell you there was always something wrong with the little brat!" exclaimed Mrs Finnegan, when she barrelled into the room a moment after the matron, she was trying desperately and failing to hold back the gleeful expression on her round face.

There was nothing she loved more than witnessing Amy Evans getting a dressing down and she figured she had hit the money load this time. It had been this way ever since Amy had accidentally set an adder on her while she was tending her herb garden five years previously. Well accident was probably not the word to describe the incident, in truth Amy had told the snake to get the old bat because she had forced the children to eat extra helpings of sprouts for four days after Christmas that year because she had ordered too much and refused to throw them out.

Amy opened her mouth hoping for an excuse to come to her but it didn't matter. Mrs Crowley held up a hand and turned away from her to address Mrs Finnegan.

"Agnes. Thank you for bringing this to my attention." A wide grin spread across the cooks face. "But don't let me hear you saying things like that about our charges again, I won't have it."

She turned back to Amy, missing the way that the grin fell to be replaced by a look of incredulous disappointment. Amy caught it though and if she wasn't so shocked by what had happened she would have been delighted. Mrs Crowley told her to go and wait for her in her office. She couldn't read the expression on the old woman's face but for some reason it gave her a knot in her stomach. Whatever punishment she was about to receive it was probably going to be bad.

To her vast surprise and suspicion, Amy was just told to go to bed without dinner. She didn't even have to clean up the mess she had left in the kitchen. That expression the matron had exhibited in the kitchen was still there and it made Amy so uneasy she didn't question it, she just followed the order to go up to bed. Mrs Crowley had never looked so old, even though she was well in her seventies, she usually seemed so ageless to her.

Amy entered her room and sat on the creaky little single bed. This was by no means the first time something strange had happened to her, but it was in the top five of the most odd, along with the adder following her orders. She did notice a trend, in that whenever something like that happened, she was feeling some strong emotion, usually anger like today or terror like when she had tripped crossing the road on a field trip with her school and a lorry had just missed her.

It had only missed her because when she had closed her eyes waiting for the impact and her certain death beneath those massive wheels she somehow managed to make it to the other side of the road and up into a tree, all in the blink of an eye. The teacher in charge of the field trip handed in her resignation that evening.

People had chalked up the incident on the field trip as the effects of adrenaline and the snake situation as the active imagination of a young child, but they didn't know about the books that flew off shelves when she was looking for them or the recurring dreams she had of flashing green lights and twinkling blue eyes and how could today's events possibly be explained? She hadn't thrown her mashed potatoes at Jeremy's head at lunch, thus starting the food fight.

He had been calling her names as per usual. Her red hair drew a lot of attention from bullies like him and he pounced on every opportunity to tease her about it. He wasn't very original about it either. It was always the same; Ginger nut, ginger minger, and various other lame name calling, it was more annoying than anything else, especially seeing as her hair colour was more of a dark red than coppery. But he also stood in the way of her having any friends of her own.

They went to the same school down the road from the orphanage and so she couldn't even escape him and his goons there. He kept all their classmates up to date with the weird things that she supposedly caused and so she was the freak that nobody wanted to have anything to do with. Children her own age either bullied her or ignored her and sniggered about her behind her back and those younger than her were afraid of what the freak might do to them if they went to close.

She was as surprised as everyone else when the remainders of her lunch had hit him in the side of the face with a splat but as usual she couldn't explain what had happened and so received all of the blame, even though after that everybody had joined in. then there was the melting plate and evaporating water. She held her hands up and stared at them.

Had she really caused it? How had she not been injured? She had heard somewhere once that steam burns were just as bad if not worse in some cases as others. And the way the matron had reacted really freaked her out as well. Maybe Mrs Finnegan was right. Maybe there was something wrong with her.

She sat like that for hours only half listening to the stage whispers of her fellow inmates as they passed her door on the way to their own shared rooms, each of them surely glad that they didn't have to bunk with the friendless freak. She was secretly glad too that she didn't have a room mate. The younger children shared larger bedrooms between three or four and that had been awful for her back in the day. She liked her privacy and didn't miss the pranks that were played on her every other night.

With a room to herself she could read her books and do homework in peace. Her love of reading had stemmed from and been well honed by her lonely existence, so too had her interest in her school subjects. If most of the teachers at her primary school hadn't been so fed up of her apparent trouble making and so easily swayed by gossip they might have valued her more for her hard work and attention to detail in her homework. She always got good grades and did well in all exams but sadly her hard work was overshadowed by her inexplicit oddness. There was one teacher, however, who paid little attention to rumours and always had time for her.

Mr Umbridge, her history teacher, had always had a soft spot for Amy. He was responsible for the fact that she had not already been expelled at least twice. He always stuck up for her when she was caught in the middle of a fight or was being accused of something she hadn't done or couldn't explain. He praised her for her hard work and watched out for her on the playground. Needless to say, history was her favourite subject.

School was out for the summer now though and so she was without her old ally. The orphanages summer field trip was coming up soon too and she hoped the events of this afternoon wouldn't cause her to be excluded from it. Every year the children were taken out for the day, to one of the cities child friendly places. As the excursion usually took place around or on her birthday, she had taken to pretending it was all for her to compensate for the card from the staff and the extra dessert that everyone else received.

This year they were going to the zoo and she had been looking forward to it. She had always had a fondness for animals, especially the exotic kind. The closest the orphanage had to that was the elderly cat kept to keep away mice, and the mice, who always evaded the grumpy old moggy.

Hours later, the sun had gone down and she lay down on top of the scratchy blankets, not bothering to change into her pyjamas. She was hungry and so tried to distract herself from her stomach rumblings by daydreaming about the upcoming field trip, this led to memories of previous birthdays and what it would be like to have had a family to spend them with. The matron always liked to tell them that they were all one big happy family, but nobody believed that. She spouted lines like that especially after a visiting set of potential parents left without asking for another appointment. Amy had long ago given up the hope of being adopted.

There were a few times when she had thought the couples who came to visit might choose her but it never happened and now at her age chances were very slim. She knew she would end up attending the secondary school that was right beside the primary school she now attended and when she turned eighteen she would be free to make her own decisions. One thing she was very sure of was that once she finally left the orphanage she would never set eyes on the big square horror show again.

These thoughts led her, as they always did, to wondering about her own family. Questions she had asked again and again flooded her mind until they were all she could think about. What had happened to her parents? She knew that they had died but nobody was able to tell her how. Why had she been left on the steps of the orphanage when she was a year old? Had there really been no one else who could have cared for her? She had no answers, but she thought that the matron might.

When she found Amy out on the steps that fateful morning there had been a letter in the blanket she had been wrapped up in. Amy knew this because she had heard the cook and Tabitha, the chambermaid discussing how odd the weather had been the week she had been found. Mrs Finnegan was convinced it was a sign there was something not quite right about her.

"Don't you remember? It rained shooting stars for heavens sake Tabitha! it was on the news! Then there was this mystery child out on the steps with a letter from someone with a ridiculous name spouting nonsense and giving no information apart from the child's name, not even a date of birth."

Needless to say she had been intrigued, so when next the opportunity presented itself (she didn't have to wait too long) she investigated. She was waiting for the matron to come back from a meeting with the school principal about her behaviour. Amy had been instructed to sit quietly in the office and await her doom. Instead she had rooted through the filing cabinet behind the large, highly polished desk and took out a rather thick folder with her name on it.

Inside there had been school reports, direct complaints from the school, staff at the orphanage and her fellow inmates, medical notes from her visits to the doctors and one from the time she had had to go to the emergency room after falling from a tree and breaking her arm and one small envelope addressed to the matron in green spindly writing. The envelope she had been found with.

Try as she might she couldn't open it. She was just reaching for a pair of scissors on the matron's desk when she had heard the front door slam and so hurriedly put the envelope and folder back in the file drawer before sitting back in the all too familiar seat.

Amy fell into a fitful sleep not long before dawn. The next few days were quiet. Nothing strange happened and as word had spread of the melted plate incident thanks to Mrs Finnegan, she was left alone, though she was followed by loud whispers wherever she went. She took to spending even more time reading in her room or at the library.

The matron approved of her reading habit, one of the very few things she did approve of about her and so a couple of years ago, when she had gone to the old lady to ask for some more books as she had read the orphanages pitifully small collection kept in the play room, she had took her down to the library personally and got her her very own library card. She was allowed to go there on her own twice a week and it was a privilege she took advantage of with gusto. The matron also went easier on her if she saw her come back late as long as she had an armful of books and a sorry enough look on her face.

On the morning of her birthday Amy woke with a start to find that her curtains had been whipped back by a busy Tabitha who was now simultaneously grabbing Amys wash pile while managing to rip the sheets and bed covers off her bed for washing while she was still wrapped up in them.

"Alright I'm up. I can do it, what's the hurry?" Amy asked and stood before taking the pillowcases off and handing them over.

"Yer all off to the zoo today remember? I want to get as much done as quick as I can this morning so I can get outta here before ye get back."

Amy's mood brightened. She tidied up quickly to hasten Tabitha's departure before getting dressed and heading down to breakfast. After the last of the bowls were handed in to the kitchen they were off, a rented banger of a bus already waiting for them outside.

A couple of hour's later Amy's good mood was gone. She had enjoyed walking around the large zoo, checking out all the exotic animals. They had been split into small groups and she had soon fallen behind on purpose so it was her leaving the others out and not them her. She took her time wandering around aimlessly and enjoying reading the descriptions of the animals on plaques outside their habitats. Then she spotted an ice cream stall surrounded by benches and small picnic tables across from the reptile house. She had bought a cone and was sitting out in the sunshine, thinking that she might take a trip in to see the snakes and lizards when she was finished.

That's when the screaming began.

She had already had a sneaking suspicion that she was insane. This was confirmed by the fact that when the large snake slithered from the entrance to the reptile house amid the noise of screaming adults and the weeping of children she heard it talk, well it was more of a shout really;

"I'm free! I'm free!" it hissed as it slithered by.

After a few seconds the snake was followed out by a stampede of people who ran in every direction. Keepers with nets and walkie-talkies emerged from other points of the zoo but they were too late, the snake was nowhere to be found. A minute or two later six more people emerged from the reptile house much slower than the initial crowd. The first was a rather large, furious looking man with an almost shockingly loud moustache. He was dragging a young boy along behind him by the ear. The boy looked to be about her age with a mop of jet black hair and round glasses that looked in danger of falling off with the force at which he was being dragged along.

He was quite skinny and his clothes hung off him loosely and he seemed resigned to his fate of being dragged through a busy zoo. In direct contrast to him waddled the roundest child she had ever seen. He was shaking and wrapped in a towel, his blonde hair was plastered to his head and dripping wet. The woman clutching his shoulders and weeping loudly and dramatically was quite bony and horse faced. There was another boy with them who seemed about to explode with excitement. He was skipping to keep up with the angry man in front of the group and when she heard what he was saying she sat up straighter and strained to hear more.

"- I'm telling you, Mr. Dursley, he was talking to it. I swear!"

The big man said nothing but his face was reddening more and more with anger at every syllable.

They were led off by a zoo official towards the staff lounge with promises of tea. Amy wished she could follow them. She felt oddly drawn to them. But the cold wetness of the ice-cream melting and dripping onto her hand woke her up to the fact that she had better go and rejoin her group before she was missed.

After dinner that evening she went up to her room and thought about what had happened in the zoo. Was it true that the black haired boy had been talking to the snake before it had gotten away? She knew better than to tell anybody what she had witnessed or she would be committed for sure. The men in white coats would come and lock her up and throw away the key faster than that snake had escaped.

She looked around her room for something to take her mind off the zoo trip, taking in the peeling paint on the walls and the chipped and scratched old wooden furniture. She walked over to the rickety wardrobe and opened the door to reveal the tarnished full length mirror attached to the other side.

Sunlight streamed in through the window making her hair gleam like fire above her pale skin and emerald green eyes. Something worried at the back of her mind as she stared at her own reflection, like trying to remember a dream as it slipped away, but she couldn't identify it and so let it go, grabbing some pyjamas off one of the shelves and closing the door before getting ready for bed and slipping into a nightmare filled with hissing and a flash of bright green light that faded and compacted before splitting into the image of a pair of almond shaped green eyes that she somehow knew were not her own.