(A/N: Sooooo…. It took me nine days to find some inspiration to update this story. Why? Only one more person reviewed. It made me sad. But oh well, maybe people will see fit to review after this chapter *cough* hint *cough* Anyway, enough of my pleading for reviews. I don't own Harry Potter or "Love Song" by Sara Bareilles. I wish I did, then I could pay my own tuition. ^^"" Enough of that, here's the new chapter…Enjoy!)
Chapter 3: Better than a Cardboard Box
She pulled what appeared to be a worn out old sock from one of her pockets. I stared.
"Grab onto this, if you please." The professor requested as though it was a perfectly normal thing for a person to grab a nasty sock.
Why not? I thought. I've certainly got nothing to lose. Just as I touched the sock it glowed a blinding blue color and I felt myself being pulled forward and then spinning for a couple of seconds. When I let go, I promptly fell over. As I got up and dusted myself off I realized something. We weren't in Austin anymore. We appeared to be in a grubby looking pub.
"Um….Professor? Where are we exactly?" I asked quietly because there were a lot of strange people around.
"The Leaky Cauldron in London" She replied matter-of-factly. "We have come here so that we can find you a place to stay and can get you your school things."
"L-London? How did that icky sock get us across the Atlantic Ocean, Professor?" I stammered as we walked toward some old bald guy who looked like he owned the place. Her mouth quirked at my question.
"It was a Portkey, or an object enchanted to take you to a pre-set place." She explained and then turned to baldy.
"Hello, Professor, what can I do you for?" the man asked in a kind voice.
"I was wondering if you would be willing to let young Miss Weasley stay here until term starts, Tom." McGonagall asked.
Tom started to look uncomfortable. My heart sank.
"Well, the thing is professor…business isn't doing too well and I can't even afford to have someone entertain our guests, much less let someone stay here for free." He replied uncomfortably.
That's when I noticed a beat-up old piano shoved in the corner with a few cobwebs on it. An idea sprang into my head. My used-to-be-sorta parents had me take piano lessons and much to my surprise, I was actually pretty decent at playing the instrument.
"Excuse me Mr. Tom? I can play the piano pretty well, would you be willing to let me stay if I play the piano every night?" I asked nervously. He seemed to be thinking it over pretty hard, frowning.
"Can you sing?" he asked.
"Yes, I have been in one choir or another since I was little." I replied hoping that that was enough; I really didn't want to sleep in a cardboard box. His face softened a little.
"Well, if you could show us something I'm sure we could work something out." He said as though he was really hoping this would work out. I walked over to the piano contemplating what I could easily play while singing and it came to me: "Love Song" by Sara Bareilles. I set my backpack down against the bench, dusted the piano off a little and began playing,
Head under water I'm unusually hard to hold on to
And they tell me to breathe easy for a while
The breathing gets harder, even I know that
Made room for me but it's too soon to see
If I'm happy in your hands
Blank stares at blank pages
No easy way to say this
You mean well, but you make this hard on me
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
At this point, just about everyone in the pub was staring at me their mouths agape. They hadn't expected a twiggy 11 year old to be able to belt out a song quite like this. Professor McGonagall was just as shocked, but she also looked somewhat proud of me. Tom looked like all his dreams just came true. I smiled as I continued.
I'm not gonna write you a love song I learned the hard way
'cause you tell me it's
Make or break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
Reason to write you a love song today
That they all say things you want to hear
And my heavy heart sinks deep down under you and
Your twisted words,
Your help just hurts
You are not what I thought you were
Hello to high and dry
Convinced me to please you
Made me think that I need this too
I'm trying to let you hear me as I am
At this point, my face clouded thinking of this morning's events. Come on Kayla, power through this! I thought fiercely to myself. I'm not gonna write you a love song Promise me that you'll leave the light on I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
Make or break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
Reason to write you a love song today
To help me see with daylight, my guide, gone
'cause I believe there's a way you can love me
Because I say
I won't write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
'cause you tell me it's make or break in this
Is that why you wanted a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or break in this
If you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If your heart is nowhere in it
I don't want it for a minute
Babe, I'll walk the seven seas when I believe that
There's a reason to
Write you a love song today
As I finished playing, the pub was still silent from shock for a moment and then to my surprise they all started clapping. My face turned redder than a tomato at that. I mean, I didn't think I was that good. Tom hurried through the crowd towards to me.
"Miss Weasley, I do believe this will work out! Tell me, where did you get that song from?" he asked excitedly.
"A non-magical artist by the name of Sara Bareilles." I replied thoroughly relieved to now have a place to stay that was warm and dry. Professor McGonagall waved at me to go over where she was standing.
"That was excellent, Miss Weasley. Now, before Tom shows you to your room there are a few things you need and that I need to tell you. Firstly, behind the pub there is a wall that when tapped with a wand lets you enter Diagon Alley where there are shops with things you will need for school. Tom can help you get in your first time. Secondly here, this is some money for you to purchase your supplies. The large gold ones are Galleons, the silver ones are Sickles, and the small bronze one are Knuts. Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to the Sickle. Also, here is your ticket to the train. It leaves from Platform 9 ¾ at 11 a.m. from King's Cross station. Finally and most importantly, to get onto the platform walk through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Do try and be sneaky about it, too." She said with the same expression she had when she announced why she was at my old house. My mind was reeling as I tried to commit all of this to my memory.
"I will, Professor! Thank you for everything!" I called as she turned to leave. She paused.
"You are most certainly welcome. Also, try to take care of yourself Miss Weasley." She said with a soft expression as she once again turned and left the dank pub.
As Tom showed me to my room we discussed my schedule. I would sing and play for a couple of hours each night when the post-work rush came through. When we reached room 11 Tom gave me the key and told me to make myself at home and that dinner was at 5.
I unlocked the door and surveyed my new home. There was an old mirror that told me to straighten my glasses (seriously? a talking mirror?), a musty looking bed, and a wardrobe. I dropped my backpack and promptly flumped onto the bed. It had been the oddest, longest, toughest, and most magical birthday of my life.
