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Author: Trystym Story: Harry Potter and the Singing Professor Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 3 Words: 46,511
"Ron! Harry! It's time to go!" Molly Weasley called up the stairs. Her shouts were quickly followed by the sounds of two sixteen year old boys taking the stairs three at a time. "Coming Mum, we were just checking for loose change. Need all that I can get. Really, can you believe that Fred and George are charging me for products? We ought to be getting them for free, and being paid to advertise for them," Ron complained. But then Ron complains about everything lately thought Harry. Everything but Hermione, at least. "Ron, you know the twins have expenses just like the rest of us, and they are selling to you at cost. Now, please pull your trousers down a bit and try to make them last a bit longer. It seems like you've grown since breakfast," Molly said. "Mum, if I pull them down anymore, my bum will be showing," groused Ron. "Rubbish, just like everything else I own." "Don't worry Ron," said Harry. "I've seen Muggles wear their jeans low like that; it's fashionable." Muggle girls, Harry didn't add. "Now, come on boys, the girls have already gone ahead and will be waiting. With everything that has been going on lately, I don't want leave them too long, even at a nice place like The Leaky Cauldron," said Molly. Harry grabbed a pinch of Floo powder and stepped toward the kitchen hearth. With only a slight hesitation, during which he remembered his last floo trip from the Burrow, he tossed the powder into the flames, stepped in and spoke "Diagon Alley!" *** "Odd, but I just had the strangest feeling that I'm destined to grow up and marry a girl with spiky, yellow hair and an orange dress..." Harry muttered. Need to work on Occlumency.... Harry stumbled forward on landing and actually managed to keep his feet. He gazed around the room, pleased and just a bit surprised to see the dingy interior of The Leaky Cauldron. Two soot-covered girls stood nearby, watching him expectantly. "Harry, where have you been? We were starting to worry that you had ended up in the wrong grate again. Where's Ron?" Hermione Granger asked petulantly. Ginny Weasley simply stood behind her and nodded. "He's coming, and please don't say anything about his trousers," replied Harry. "Why? What's wrong with his trousers? They're not ripped or something, are they?" Hermione asked. "You'll see. Just don't mention them," Harry answered. With another flare of green flame and a small cloud of soot, Ron stepped out and attempted to dust himself off with soot-covered hands. "Could someone get my back?" he called as he turned away from his friends. "Hello? Harry? Ginny? Hermione? Someone brush me off?" Ron turned back to his friends in time to hear two sets of muffled sniggers and see Hermione looking slightly shocked. "What? What's so funny? How dirty am I?" Ron snapped. Hermione recovered at this, and thankful for Ron's ready-made excuse, replied, "Yes, come here, Ron." She proceeded to brush imaginary soot from his back. A slight *POP* startled everyone as Molly apparated beside them. "Right, everyone here? Butterbeers for later, I should think." *** Molly led the way into Diagon Alley, with Harry, Ron and Hermione together, and Ginny trailing slightly behind. Harry couldn't help but notice the occasional stare at the group, and was relieved when he realized that the attention wasn't for him. Instead, everyone seemed to be goggling at Ron. Mrs. Weasley was headed for Gringott's Harry determined. Maybe with all these people here, I can get my own cart. Despite all the years that they had been making this trip, Harry was still ashamed of the difference between his vault and the Weasley's. Right now, I would gladly give a quarter of the gold in there for a new pair of trousers for Ron. *** As the party passed into the brilliant white marble building, Hermione maneuvered Harry away from the rest. "Harry, it's...it's...it's, well, it's almost indecent...." " I KNOW, Hermione...do you think maybe Madame Malkin could do something? A stretching spell maybe...." "Just think what Fred and George are going to say. It will be just awful. And then Ron will...." Hermione stopped. "Ron will what?" asked Ron as he approached the two. "Ron will probably have a conniption if we take separate carts to the vaults," Harry replied smoothly. "Just thinking that, with everything that we have to do today it would save time." "Makes sense to me, mate," said Ron. "I'll tell Mum to go on, and we'll meet back here in a few minutes." With that, Ron headed back to inform his mother of the new plan. "Good save, Harry," said Hermione. "One of my best. Truth is, I was thinking that it would be less cramped if I went separate." Harry and Hermione joined Ron for their trip to the vaults. *** Harry, Ron and Hermione climbed into a cart with their goblin guide, Ragnar, for the journey into the vaults. Harry seated himself in the forward-most position and he was joined there by the goblin. Hermione and Ron clambered into the back, where they sat far closer together than was necessary, in Harry's opinion. Just bleedin' get it over with and kiss her, Harry thought. Knowing that was unlikely to happen, Harry settled in for the ride. It gets better every time, Harry mused to himself. Truth be told, riding the roller coaster that was Gringott's mineshafts was nearly as good as flying. Twists and turns passed much too quickly, and a familiar burst of flame signaled that the journey was nearing an end. After one last stomach churning plunge, which elicited a pleased cackle from Ron, and a slightly green "Oh, my..." from Hermione, they pulled to a stop in front of Harry's vault. Harry took the key from his pocket and unlocked his parents'...no, my vault. Stacks of gleaming golden galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts winked in the torchlight. They had all of this and never got a chance to enjoy it, he thought. Harry knew that this money had to last him through at least the next two years at Hogwarts, but something about today made him sure that his father, at least, would have wanted him to enjoy some of his fortune. Knowing that Prongs and Padfoot were watching, he scooped an extra handful into his bag. "Up to no good..." he muttered to himself. "Harry, come on. You know mum's going to be waiting, and Hermione says she still needs to change some Muggle money," Ron called out. "What are you doing anyway, counting it?" Harry closed the vault and turned back to his friends. "No, I was just thinking. My parents left all of this for me when they should have been the ones enjoying it. We need to spend some of this...for Prongs...and Padfoot." Ron momentarily looked as if he were going to say something about not needing charity, but thought better of it. "What, you mean some sort of memorial? I don't think..." but he fell silent as he noticed the look on Hermione's face. "No, well, yes...well..." started Harry. "I don't mean like some kind of statue or something." Harry thought of a statue to two unregistered animagi covered with pigeons, and of Padfoot chasing them. A smile suddenly broke across his face. "Something that they would have appreciated. Something interesting." *** Harry spent the trip back to the surface working on his plan. It would be bold; it would be exciting...if he could just think of something worthy of the Marauders. His ideas all seemed a bit childish. Maybe he should hold onto the money and think of something later. After what seemed like no time the cart rumbled to a halt, and he climbed out. "Just a minute while I change some money," Hermione called over her shoulder. She proceeded to a counter, leaving Harry and Ron alone. "So, what'd you have in mind?" Ron asked. Harry hesitated. After the speech he had made in front of his vault, he wasn't sure that he could admit to having second thoughts. "I'm not quite sure yet; I just got this feeling that my dad would have wanted me to do something besides go to school. You know," he continued, "after all these years, I still don't know who my father really was. I know some of the things he did, in school and after, but I don't know..." he trailed off, not even sure of what he was trying to express. Ron threw a friendly arm around Harry's shoulder. "Well, mate, everyone says you're just like him, so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out what he would have liked. As for mischief, you've come to the right place. What I don't know, Fred and George are bound to. Maybe you can get some ideas from them." Ron's mention of his twin brothers brought another thought to Harry's mind. Erm...Ron, have you, uh, really looked at yourself in a mirror? I don't mean to...well...Fred and George are going to..." and he motioned vaguely in the direction of Ron's trousers, which really seemed to be too short on both ends. "Maybe Madam Malkin can do something for you..." "Are they really that bad?" Ron looked down, "Oh, yeah, I guess they are." Harry could see Ron beginning to flush from embarrassment. Now he felt doubly bad for having fun with him that morning. "It's not that bad, really." "Yes, it is," snapped Ron. "What if Herm...I mean what if some girl...somebody from school were to notice. I'd never live it down. I just wish we weren't so bloody poor. I mean it's a bit better now that there's only the four of us at home, but mum's still trying to save." Harry was shocked. Ron's slip was the first time he had ever heard his friend come close to expressing how he felt about Hermione. Harry knew he was no expert when it came to love or romance, or for that matter when it came to anything that had to do with girls. His disastrous date with Cho in fifth year had proven that. Maybe what Ron needed was a little more confidence. As if he was reading Harry's mind, Ron continued, "I know most of my things are rubbish. Those dress robes that Fred and George bought me are nice, but I can't really wear them everywhere, I'd look like a total pouf. You know, I still haven't lived down that set Mum bought me for the Yule ball. What a bloody awful night." Harry thought the night might not have been so bad if Ron had been there with the right girl, but he wasn't about to correct his friend. "What did you do with those old robes anyway? I haven't seen them around." "Built a big fire in the orchard one night and burned them." Ron smiled at the thought. "You should have seen them go up, it was beautiful. Of course Mum had a fit, said I was wasting money, that she could have taken them back and gotten something for them. Told her that after Pig had gotten done with them, they weren't fit to wear." Hermione chose that moment to reappear. "Ron, I found your mum and Ginny. They're waiting by the doors. She says they've been waiting ages. And, um...Malfoy's here as well. Ron, you're not going to make a scene, are you?" Ron attempted to look offended; "I would never...as long as he doesn't start anything." "But, Ron, he always starts something. Promise me that you won't do anything," pleaded Hermione. Ron sighed with disgust and resignation, "I promise I won't make a scene. Even if he bloody well does deserve it." "Thank you, Ron." Hermione looked relieved, and the three headed for the door. They had almost reached the relative shelter of the atrium when the quiet of the bank was disturbed by a shout. "WEASLEYS! IN A BANK? What, did you get lost, or did you hope they would show you what money looked like?" Draco Malfoy sneered. "Just keep walking," Hermione hissed. "And what did you spend the summer doing, Granger? Comforting dear Potter on his latest heart wrenching tragedy? Or turning tricks on some street corner like some common harlot? Filthy mudblood." Harry and Ron turned; their hands automatically shot to their wands. It took Harry a moment to realize that Mrs. Weasley had spoken. "I said it's time to go," she repeated. Where Hermione's nagging would have failed, Molly's simple statement carried enough force to compel both boys towards the door. As he passed Molly, Harry thought he heard her mumble something under her breath. He turned and caught a brief glimpse of her quickly stashing what might have been her wand back into her bag. "Where are you off to now, Weasleys? Hot rubbish sale to-OOF!" Draco's latest witticism was cut short as his long, silk robes tangled in his perfectly polished shoes, and he fell ignobly onto his perfectly pointed nose. An amused snort escaped Harry. He smiled and turned back to the open doors, where he and his friends stepped into the gray afternoon and the beginnings of another fabulous adventure.
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