)(Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any of J.K. Rowling's work or any songs written by the band "Third Eye Blind". Thank you.)

( )(A/N: The Jay man is back and is pulling out the stops, in addition to HP and the Sword I am now starting this gem, updates soon on both stories sorry for those of you who've been waiting for a new chapter of HP and the Sword but my life has been complicated lately. Thanks.)(

How's It Gonna Be
By: Jayden Darkholme

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, his breathing was ragged and his chest was heaving. He had another nightmare, ever since Sirius died he had been dreaming of that night in the Department of Mysteries. He dreamt of Sirius falling into the nothingness of the ghost world, he felt the sting of Voldemort's harsh laugh. Harry went to the end of his bed and rumaged around in his trunk, his seventeenth birthday had been two days ago, and his life had been better for it. The night he turned seventeen he left the Dursleys and travelled to London on the Knight Bus, when he arrived he headed for the Leaky Cauldron and rented a room -- the same as he had done in his third year -- and had owled the Weasleys as to when he would be expected to come. Mrs. Weasley still hadn't replied but he expected Hedwig to come in the morning. Harry found the quill and parchment and began to scribble in the dim candlelight of the room. Harry had found writing to be an effective outlet, especially songwriting, Ginny had told him a year before that he should send some of his songs to the wizarding wireless; but, Harry still had self-esteem issues, especially about his music. After he had finished writing he laid down and tried to sleep, but all he accomplished was tossing and turning until dawn trying to get comfortable. But, during the course of the night he had thought of a great idea, a band. He would start a band, all he needed was a few more people and some instruments. As he climbed wearily out of bed he set his mind to one thing, finding a shop that would sell the things he needed to begin.

Harry made his way down the fairly crowded alleyway, the smell of simmering herbs and various other things assaulted him as he passed the potion shop. The ear-splitting shreik of the infantile Mandrakes outside the Apothecary made him cover his ears and walk a little faster to get away. Finally near the end of the alley Harry spotted an old, weather-beaten sign. The chipping white paint spelled out Satyr's Pipe on the slowly decomposing board above the door, but the thing that caught Harry's eye was an old electric guitar in the window. It was green and had a small tag stuck in between the strings that stated "One previous owner, mint condition!" Harry opened the door and strode into the dimly lit area of the store. "Hello?" he called, looking around, he saw many types of instruments and accessories for them. Bagpipes hung behind the counter and a shelf filled with small and medium-sized boxes was to the left of them. A clatter in the back room cause Harry to grab his wand from his pocket and level it towards the opening behind the counter. A small man with old, ratty purple robes ambled into view, he was carrying several boxes perched precariously on top of one another. "Excuse me." said Harry, placeing his wand back in his pocket. The tiny man started and dropped his boxes.

"Oh, dear." he stated and bent slowly to pick them up.

"I'm very sorry, sir." said Harry as he rushed over to aid who he gathered to be the owner.

"It's quiet all right young man," he said, "just my nerves, usually don't have any company." he laughed.

"I noticed," said Harry looking around the dusty store. He heard the old man stutter and turned a bit, "Why, you're him. Aren't you? You're Harry Potter!" he said. Harry still wasn't used to this, even after seven years of being the biggest celebrity in the wizarding world he still wasn't used to being recognised as "THE" Harry Potter. Harry nodded his head slightly and the old man let out a girlish squeal,

"Mr. Potter my name is Satyr and I have been a big fan of yours since you defeated You-Know-Who the first time, is it really true that he is back?" Harry nodded again, "I'm afraid so. Mr. Satyr."

"Please, Mr. Potter, just Satyr." Satyr walked from behind the counter and a pair of goat's legs came into view, he was really a satyr, half-man, half- goat. "What can I help you with today, Mr. Potter?" He said placing a hand on a small table by the counter.

"I'm interested in enchanted instuments, preferrably a muggle electric guitar and bass and a drum set." Satyr's ears perked up and his eyes widened. "Mr. Potter, are you starting a band?" he said rubbing his palms together.

"I'm thinking about it." said Harry.

"You've come to the right place my lad, let me show you the quality instruments I have in the back room." Satyr started walking towards the back guiding Harry with a hand on his shoulder. "Acctually, " said Harry, "I'm very interested in the guitar in the window..." Satyr turned to regard Harry. "Are you sure you can handle that guitar?" he said.

"What's there to handle, it's a guitar." stated Harry. Satyr laughed and almost began to cry he was laughing so hard. "W-why are you laughing?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Sonny, that guitar is enchanted." said Satyr, his chest heaving from the laughing fit.

"And?" said Harry bluntly.

Satyr looked up at him and made a sour face. "Alright then, lad. If you think you can handle it go try to play something on it." Harry's eyes grew wide. "B-but I-"

"Come on, lad, go for it." said Satyr. Harry walked to the window and gripped the neck of the guitar. He could almost feel the music inside it, warming the strings and the instrument itself. "Do get on with it, boy-o, I hain't got all day." Harry picked up the guitar, it just felt right in his grasp, like it was meant for him, the dusky light of the shop glinted off of the emerald body of the instrument as Harry trew the strap over his shoulder and hooked the loop to the base of the guitar. "What do I do now?" Harry asked.

"Think of a song," said Satyr, "any song." Harry thought of one of his songs and all of a sudden his fingers began to work by themselves along the fretboard, his left hand was strumming and picking on the strings, when he cleared the song from his mind his hands stopped. "Bloody hell!" exclaimed Harry. He looked over at Satyr. "So, it says it's had one previous owner. Who was that?" Satyr gave him a grave look. "It was your father's, lad." Harry's eyes went wide and he looked down at the instrument, "M-my father?"

Ron Weasley was just waking up when he noticed his best friend's owl perched on his chest, her sharp, yellow eyes peering into his bleary blue eyes. "BLOODY HELL!" he exclaimed and Hedwig flapped and hovered over his chest before perching again. Ron noticed the letter and grumbled as he untied it from the bird's leg. "Damn owl, always sneaking up on me." She nipped his finger and flew over to sit on his dresser. Ron unfolded the letter and began to read his friend's scratchy handwriting.

Dear Ron,

Oi, I've had a bloody brilliant idea mate! Get on the Knight Bus and meet me at the Leaky Cauldron as soon as possible, I've invited a few friends.

Harry

'What in the bloody hell was that?' Ron wondered to himself as he went downstairs to get himself and Hedwig something to eat.


Harry was sitting in a corner of the pub, waiting for his friends to arrive so he could take them upstairs and show them the brilliant idea that Satyr had helped him with. He had been studying the books Satyr gave him to expand his knowledge of music and had finished up to the 1960's, the beginnings of modern rock music. He had also expanded his song base, too. Now he could play anything from classical to death metal. He was still lost in thought when Ron sat down next to him and ordered a butterbeer. "

So, what's this brilliant idea you've come up with then?" he asked.

"You'll see." replied Harry. "Wait for the others to get here."

"Others?!" Ron exclaimed. Just then the door opened and Neveille Longbottom and Seamus Finniagan walked into the dimly lit pub. Harry waved to them and they headed over, Tom, the innkeeper took their orders and Harry leaned over the table conspiritively and the others followed suit.

"You guys want to be famous?" Harry asked with a smirk.

)(Sorry if the indintationsa were weird, first time I've posted in a long time, should be better next time 'round. Reveiw now, if you please, this message will self-destruct in five seconds.)(