PROMPT: WRITE A STORY ABOUT A BEGGAR WHO LOVES TO HEAR HIMSELF SING

I lost a bet. I lost a bet. I lost a bet. That's what James kept telling himself as he prepared to waste the first Hogsmeade day – and chance to go on a date with Lily – in a long time. I lost the stupid bet with Sirius on who could chug the most Firewhiskey.

I should have known I didn't stand a chance; Sirius' stomach is bigger than my ego! So now he was stuck, in layers upon layers of scratchy wool, stifling on the almost-summer day. His fingers stuck out of the gloves he wore, and his glasses felt oddly bunched up under the weird sock hat Sirius made him wear.

James shuddered to think what Lily would say if she saw him, took one last glance in the mirror, then trudged out of the dorm and into the common room, where Sirius howled in glee while Remus snorted into his book. "I thought – Oh. The hat. The hat."

James stalked off, wanting to get this over with. I have to beg until I make twelve galleons. That is all.How am I supposed to make money begging? The only ones who ever made money were the ones with monkeys. I don't like monkeys. Or beggars. They scare me.

As James contemplated how to impress Lily Evans with this, make money, and not look like an idiot, he walked to Hogsmeade.

By the time he got there, he had formed a plan: he would sing to get the galleons.

James first stationed himself in front of a lesser-known pub, where few students would venture during the trip. He began to sing.

It was all a blur from there, but by the time he was done, he was in front of Honeydukes, had Sonorus cast on him, and was dancing too. The last of the twelve galleons was given by none other than Lily Evans, who was, of course, with Snivellous. He is truly the ugliest fourth year I've ever seen – and with his paws on Lily, too!

Sirius' face was priceless. James had collected over twelve galleons in the space of ten minutes. Sirius had barely guzzled his first Butterbeer!

So, cocky as usual, but also sure of his vocal talent, James belted out, "Lily, my Lily, you always look so frilly. I know this might sound silly, but my heart is made of mash. Will you be the bangers to my mash, sweet Lily? I may be but fourteen, but I know that your bosom is obscene-"

James woke up a day later in the Hospital Wing with a concussion and an almost-scar on his forehead.

Note to self: do not joke about Lilypad's bosom.