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A Quick note: Of course, as a "retelling" you understand all these characters, plots, and everything wizarding world belong to JK Rowling. This is my first fanfiction so I really want feedback: comments, suggestions, and your personal impressions are very much appreciated!
I will post a new chapter each Tuesday. So excited. Here is a second chapter.
*********************************Thank you for reading****************************

Chapter 2: Galleons from Gringotts

Thursday arrived, along with Arthur who, after Harry had breakfasted with the Grangers, floo'd them all to The Leaky Cauldron in London.

Ron had already been to the bank with his mum that morning but, having missed his best friends, he decided to join Harry and the Grangers. Gringotts Bank was through to the opposite end of Diagon Alley. Their group was led to the literal alley behind the Leaky Cauldron by Tom, the bartender. They proceeded through the shape-shifting, brick barrier to achieve the street beyond, bypassing bustles of purposeful pedestrians. Ron grinned at his favourite shop fronts. Quality Quidditch Supplies had new versions of the Chuddly Cannons robes at a discount! Hermione walked between her two parents and Ron mostly tuned out her jabber about the importance of attending an international wizarding event like the Quidditch World Cup. He spared a moment to feel horrified that any factor other than the game itself could be of importance! He also smirked fondly at Harry's distracted gawping. Harry didn't get into Wizarding London very often, and Ron knew everything from robe fittings to banking, but especially Quidditch, intrigued his best friend. Proceeding up the solid, tilted stairs, Ron thought even the Grangers must sense just how impermeable was the white marble bank. The stalwart institution towered over the entire street from this view. When they approached the entry, bronze doors opened with soundless ease. The red-haired boy observed with indifference the cavernous entryway and the long row of stately goblins assisting customers. He was surprised, however, when the Grangers led them over to a much lower desk off to the side, where a young goblin sat next to a sign reading 'British-Muggle Exchange Only'. Ron paid attention now, as Harry asked the Grangers about the cost to exchange muggle for wizard money. Hermione, usually quick with these kinds of facts, had gone mute with an odd, scheming look growing in her eye.

"Dad," she rather determinedly interjected, "Shall we have Harry withdraw from his own vault, and exchange money with us? See, I was thinking Harry may need some muggle essentials; he'd benefit from having the pounds we would have exchanged for today's shopping!"

Harry looked confused. Doug and Jeanne carefully considered their daughter, then glanced from the young goblin teller to Harry.

Jeanne said, "I can't see why not, but it's really up to Harry."

Doug said to Harry, "I'd be happy to see you around London as well as Diagon Alley today, Harry, if you'd like."

Before he could make any sort of reply, or really decide if he'd like to enter muggle London, Hermione was piping up again.

"Ron, tell Harry he must! I really think you ought to see around London, too, or you'll be as wrong-footed as most wizards are around muggles. And we have my parents with us now!"

"Hmm, alright then. Harry, what d'you reckon?" Ron turned to the dark haired boy.

"Alright then," Harry shrugged.

They withdrew Harry's bag of galleons, sickles and gnuts and, with the help of a goblin named Ramknock, divided it in two, adding the Grangers' notes to Harry's pile of gold.

Hermione quickly submitted to the logical view that books should be last, being the heaviest of all purchases. Jeanne's suggestion was to visit Madame Malkin's robe shop on the way out to Charing Cross Road. She, Jeanne, would take their lists for refills of school supplies.

"That reminds me!" Ron said absently, shaking himself away from thoughts of quidditch supplies.

"Mum gave me your list too, Harry. She's getting my refills, Mrs. Granger, so don't mind me. Y'know, Mum said something to me about buying new robes, now I think on it.

"Blimey, she was right!" he scoffed, handing a list to Harry. "The new list has 'dress robes' as a requirement!"

Harry eyed the note in silence. It read, 'All students fourth year and above require traditional dress robes, any color, must be modest and bear no logos'. Harry had to admit to himself, though it was a new idea to buy clothes unique to him, it might be nice to choose something for himself which fit him properly.

Madame Malkin was a squat woman, with whispy hair, fabric thrown haphazard over her shoulders, and needles pinned all over the thick sleeve of her work robes. She looked particularly bright-eyed, and they overheard her gabbing with another parent.

"...dress robes for 4 years of Hogwarts students, well, I'm very grateful...so many Hogwarts students thinking of me!"

It was a good thing they'd arrived early in the day! Hermione selected her robes, then joined the boys to help speed their choosing along.

"Don't get matching colors," she warned, "and no, Ron, no velvet. Try this, Harry."

"Hermione. It's purple." Harry glared accusingly as Ron spluttered with glee.

"Don't be thick, she can get you any color!"

Hermione selected a style for each Ron and Harry, who quickly gave up trying to tell the difference, and the boys just had to request a color. Hermione helped again.

"Black and dark green lining for Harry's, and navy blue for Ron's-"

"Her-my-nee," Ron whined, "navy blue's the magical maintenance uniform color! Do I want to look like a janitor?"

Hermione glared judgementally.

"So a color is out of the question because it's associated with a job, do you think? Could you be more condescending? I should make you wear these lace robes in maroon!"

Ron backpedaled, immediately out-matched, and Harry noticed Madame Malkin was looking put out at Ron's comparison before they both bestowed their compliments on the new costumes!

"I've never had such nice robes," said Ron, approvingly.

"Never had such nice clothes- period!" Harry agreed.

Hermione beamed at them all.

Out in muggle London, the street unraveled beyond their view, bursting with vehicles and such a tessellation of commuters, shoppers, workers and locals as to overwhelm the senses. Hermione smirked at Ron who covered his ears as a double-decker bus flew by their spot on the pavement.

"I like the noise," an enlivened Harry explained, when she caught his eye.

Doug Granger led the three down Charing Cross Road, knowing the nearest, and Hermione's preference, would be the large discount designer store.

"See, Ron? The buses don't come onto the pavement! Though, don't get too close to the edge either!" she ammended hastily, as they navigated bodies and buildings.

Hermione entered the clothing store with a sense of purpose. Primarily, her intention was to focus the shopping on Harry. Fourteen was getting to the age where ill-fitted hand-me-downs were not going to be appropriate, yet Harry was extremely self-conscious anytime people focused on him. She intended to fixate on Ron instead, most vociferously, while having her father quietly advise Harry on the muggle shop items. It was not difficult to spar with Ron over what he considered to be 'ridiculously muggle' clothing. She noticed occasionally that Harry looked a little lost but Doug was subtly directing her uncertain friend to choose from selections of slacks, shirts, shoes and socks which would fit in well with his usual school attire. Hermione sidled up to them not much later with Ron in tow. He'd been too goofy with a stack of hats on display, and she decided he should help Harry, instead.

"How's it going, Harry? Ron," she turned and glared, "recommend something for Harry to wear to the World Cup."

"Uhhhh..." the red-haired boy hedged.

"Don't Wizards just wear casual jeans and trainers?" asked Harry.

"Sure!" said Ron, "Why not? They'd work for playing quidditch in the summers, too. Get something warm though, we'll be there all bloody day."

Promptly chiding Ron's language, Hermione then turned to Harry. "Do you like color, Harry? Because, you wear a lot of... not exactly white, but..."

He looked where she'd gestured.

"Oh yeah, I'm not entirely sure which color this once was. It was Dudley's from, I'm guessing, age eight." He shrugged, unconcerned. "It might have lost something."

Ron snickered.

"Color, then!" Hermione declared. "It'll make you look less pale, promise."

She glared at Ron.

"RON, on the other hand should wear fewer bright colors, their horrible with your freckles!"

She had sounded serious, but tossed a patterned shirt, the color of strawberry icecream, at her friend and then peeled into laughter.

Leaving the store, Harry felt weary with making decisions. Ron certainly seemed antsy.

"Keep close. Let's take a walk and see what we find," said Doug Granger.

So they walked on in mute observation of the street and signs around them. One even boasted a 'Magic Shop'. Harry thought 'how fitting', and wondered if it was run by wizards, squibs or muggles.

"What in Merlin's..." Ron was enunciating poorly and gesturing, "Mr. Granger, what- I mean, does that store sell...sounds?"

For the first time, Harry heard Mr. Granger laugh, his square jaw softening with a wide smile.

"'Sounds of the Universe' is a record store! Come, why don't I show you?"

The three kids trailed their guide into a tall store front that looked like a small-scale library, even moreso because the primary merchandise appeared to be very flat sheaves lining rows and rows of shelves.

Doug had just finished showing Ron, to Harry and Hermione's boundless amusement, that each "record", as he called them, contained a song, or a few songs, that could be "played" on a particular machine. Then they all four proceeded to browse through the oaken shelves which displayed sleeves and sleeves of records. Not knowing many musical artists by name, Harry still enjoyed perusing cover art and reading the artists' names, some aloud to Hermione.

"The Buggles," he read. Hermione laughed.

"Hey, Harry," said Ron, holding up a violacious sleeve depicting a very flashy artist, "if you had bought the purple robes you could look JUST like this."

Harry spluttered in laughter.

They froze when speakers they hadn't noticed made a static-y sounding crinkle, and looked up to see Hermione's dad observing them. Music notes reverberated, almost tangible in the air around them. A chiming, snapping melody followed, joined by a man's voice.

"Under pressure..." the singer feelingly canted.

Doug smiled as the snapping faded out to static.

"Good choice, Dad!" Hermione said, pleased.

Doug, smiling his thanks to the proprieter, explained, "I thought hearing it was better than any explanation. So, Ron?"

"Brilliant," Ron responded, hoarsely.

Next, Hermione brought over "The Buggles" album Harry had liked, after which they listened to a song Doug called "Jeannie's song", but was really 'Whole Wide World' by someone called 'Reckless Eric'. A vivacious song was played next, which had Hermione swaying her shoulders to the beat, nudging against Ron and Harry's shoulders so they were too; when the lyrics crooned "You're grown (so grown up)", she twirled around her dad, happily. Doug decided to buy a few albums. He could see the kids needed some lunch. They all said thank you and smiled on their way out, thinking how much fun it would be to run a music store.

Back at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry, Ron and Hermione tucked into the special, split pea and bacon soup with buttered rolls, hungrily. Mr. and Mrs. Granger then allowed them another hour to browse Diagon Alley's bookshop before it was time to surrender them over to the Weasleys.