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chapter four

Chapter Four:

Harry walks out of Gringotts, the pockets of his jeans heavier than they've ever been before. He has a moleskine pouch in each pocket, filled to the brim with shiny coins he's not quite sure what to do with. There's also the matter of Dumbledore not being his guardian which is, quite frankly, confusing. If Dumbledore wasn't his magical guardian, then who was?

Shaking his head, Harry makes his way towards Madam Malkins. If he's going to navigate around the Wizarding World, he's going to need to get rid of Dudley's second hand... clothes. He might as well get his school robes while he's at it.

The bell above the door jingles as Harry steps inside the shop. He lets the door close behind him, green eyes flickering all around him as he takes in his surroundings. There are mannequins in every corner, twirling and moving to a tune that only they can hear. Sheets of shiny material are zipping from one side to another, followed by colourful pins and gorgeous gemstones.

"Here for your school robes?" Madam Malkin asks, sticking her head out from the curtains behind her desk. There are decorative flowers and bows stuck all over her hair, her wand is tucked behind her ear. She smiles at Harry brightly and nearly trips around her desk to usher him onto a small podium.

"Um, yes," Harry nods his head, trying to not fidget as a tape measurement uncurls itself from his head to his toes. He's starting to feel a bit self conscious about himself. He's not exactly the epitome of healthy and handsome or whatever.

"Wonderful!" Madam Malkin exclaims. "It's always a pleasure to meet all you first years coming in. Mind you, it's never as pleasurable as when the older years come back. They're all so full of themselves sometimes."

Harry laughs and feels himself go at ease. Madam Malkin chatters along and Harry finds himself answering questions and nodding when appropriate. He spends almost ten minutes on the small podium when a familiar flash of ginger hair enters the shop and catches his attention.

It's... Ron.

Feeling his throat tighten and his chest swell with heavy emotions, Harry tries not to stare at Ron so openly. But it's hard. And it hurts.

"Back for your robes, Mr Weasley?" Madam Malkin steps away from Harry, greeting Ron with a fond smile and a ruffle for his orange hair. "I thought the twins were supposed to drop by to pick them up."

Ron shrugs his shoulders. "They were," he says quietly. "It's okay that I've come to get them, right?" The corners of his lips lift into an awkward, barely there smile and it takes everything in Harry not to step off the podium and just engulf his best friend into a much needed hug.

"That's alright. How about you wait here with Mr, erm, Mr..." Madam Malkin trails off, the tone of her voice unsure as she turns back to look at Harry stood on the podium. "I'm sorry, I've forgotten to ask for your name."

Harry clears his throat and absentmindedly flattens his fringe across his forehead. It's a bad habit he can't quite get rid off. "It's Harry," he says softly, "Harry Potter."

The stunned look on both Ron's and Madam Malkins face has Harry fighting back a sigh. Maybe he should have given an alias or had said his name was simply just Harry.

"O-oh." Madam Malkin stutters out. She blinks a few times and then gives a reassuring smile. "Well Mr Weasley, if you could wait here with Mr Potter." The woman then disappears into a set of curtains behind her desk, muttering to herself giddily as she does so.

"Are you... I mean...do you...?" Ron fumbles over his words, gazing at Harry with hopeful big, brown eyes.

"The scar?" Harry asks.

Ron nods his head, curling his fingers around the front edge of his dark sweater. He nervously bites at his lips.

Harry pushes back his fringe, showing off the thin, pinkish scar in the shape of a lightning that sits over his forehead.

"Woah," Ron breathes out in awe. "It's really you." He then furrows his brows and tilts his head to the side. "But why is your hair pink?"

Sighing, Harry gives a wry smile. "It's a long story," he mutters. An idea then sparks somewhere in his mind and he grins, wide and filled with excitement. "I could tell you it over some ice cream from Florean Fortescue's, if you'd like?"

With an enthusiastic nod from Ron, the rest of the day is filled with eating delicious ice cream and going from one shop to another. Harry buys enough snacks to share between them and even though Ron seems hesitant at first to take any, he does when Harry ushers him along and says that friends always share.

The flush that settles over Ron's pale cheeks is cute. Harry watches him mouth the word 'friends' over and over again before he grins, bright and cheerful and giggles like a schoolgirl sat beside their crush.

Eventually they stop at the Magical Menagerie. The shop is small, filled with cages upon cages and it smells horrid. There are brawny owls hooting and kneazles hissing, rats with intelligent eyes perk up once they spot them. Ron covers his nose with his hand and mutters out a, "if you wanted an owl we could have gone to Eeylops Owl Emporium. It smells a lot better there."

Harry huffs out a short laugh. "Yeah," he says, "I know." There's a shit eating grin on his face as he shuffles to the front of the shop and stops at it's desk. A female sits behind it, no older than a Hogwarts graduate. She scrunches up her nose at Harry and blows out a large bubble before she pops it. The pink gum sticks to her upper lip and she swipes it away with her tongue. "What?" She sniffs, leaning her chin into the palm of her hand.

"I was wondering," Harry starts off, his grin widening when the female begins to blow her bubble again, "if you have any snakes?"

The girls gum immediately pops.

Somewhere behind him, Ron makes a strangled noise.