PS I can't write in Italian or New York accent, if I do, I would need to do it all the time because everyone has an accent. Also, Ron's about 17 while Harry's 21.

Also before I go on, I was wondering, does anyone here know 'Bugsy Malone'?

Chapter 2: At Fag Zam's

"Click, click, knock, knock, knock!"

"Come in," a voice said from behind the portrait, and the wall swung open to reveal an office. Ron hesitantly walked in.

"I'm here about a job? Terry sent me," he said once again while looking at the floor.

"Well, come on in. I'm Blaise Zambini, but you can call me Mr. Zam" Ron could hear him smiling as he said this. With the heavy mixture of New York and Italian accent in his speech, if Ron didn't already know he was a mafia, he would certainly have thought him one now.

Mr. Zam was wearing a neat, expensive looking black suit with a white rose pinned to his pocket. For someone who is known as Fat Zam, he really doesn't look that fat. In fact the man looked quite handsome with his long shiny black hair tied back into a pony tail and his dark, almost black mysterious eyes that contrasted quite nicely against his pale skin.

"Yes, Mr. Zam," Ron smiled as the man stood up to shake his hand. It was then that he could see why the man was called 'Fat Zam'. The man had what appeared to be an inflated balloon inside his stomach. In Ron's opinion, the man looked like he was pregnant.

"I'm Ronald Weasley," he said, shaking the man's hand and trying not to look at the bulging stomach.

The man looked at him for a second. "'Course you are. Well, what brings you to Fat Zam's?"

"Well, I'm looking for a job sir."

"What kind of job?"

"Well, Terry told me you have a speakeasy and I was wondering if there are any singing positions open there."

"A singer! You're not like the rest of your family are you? Well, I suppose we could use another singer, who knows, maybe you'll become one of our star singers one day, assuming Dray doesn't get too competitive. So tell me, have you got the potion with you?"

Ron was stiff for a few minutes as his brains tried to catch up with what the man was saying.

"Um...potion, sir?"

"Yeah, for the transformation into a girl. You gotta potion for that?"

"Huh?!" Ron uttered, his ocean blue eyes as wide as saucers and his mouth dropping to the floor.

"Yeah, we usually always have a spare here, but lately it's becoming rather hard to make, since the ministry's new campaign going against illegal potion making. The dancers usually get them for free since we have our own little apothecary and expert potion makers, but we're running out of ingredients right now. I'm not sure, let me check if we have any spare potions."

As the man continued talking, the red head edged slowly away from him and towards the door in hopes of escaping this twisted reality. Then, the door burst open.

"Hey boss...Well hello sweetheart," the man who'd just came in said as he pinched Ron's ass. Ron immediately jumped up, his dark blue bowler hat dropping off his bright red head as he spun around.

"FRED?!!"

"RON!!...Oh my god! I just pinched my brother's ass! Oh my god, I just pinched my brother's ass. Oh my god, I just pinched my brother's ass."

Fred continued to say this over and over again as Ron remained silent, in a state of total shock.

Then Fred jumped up a little as his twin walked in.

"Oh my god! I just pinched my brother's ass!" George said mockingly.

"Well then I guess you're a perverted fruitcake, Forge."

"Well, then I guess you're a perverted fruitcake, Gred."

"No, you are."

"No, you are."

"No, you are."

"No, you are."

The twins continued like this as the rest of the gang in black suits and bowler hat came in. Well, some things never change, Ron thought before he was attacked from behind by a rather short person.

"Ron!" the person said as they gave him a strangling hug. It took Ron a while to decipher who the boy in the gang's outfit was. Then the 'boy's' hat fell off.

"GINNY??!!"

"Ron, I've missed you. Haven't seen you in ages, I knew you'd leave home someday. So what are you doing here? Are you joining the gang? It'd be great to have another Weasley here."

"Oh no, the boy's gonna be a singer." Zam interjected.

"Oh really, I always knew you were the girly one in the family," The 'boy' said.

"Umm...I think. Urghh...I should be going now." and with that the boy burst out of the door and ran as fast as he could.

Where the hell am I? He thought, as he wondered through the corridors. After a few minutes of running the boy realized that he was completely lost. The boy sighed tiredly before sitting down on the floor. Will I ever get out of this mess?

Then the boy heard a lively rhythm coming from the end of the corridor. Curiosity got the better of him as he followed it, despite the knowledge that curiosity often killed the cat. But he was no cat, was he?

The music lead him to the grand entrance of what, he assumed, must be the speakeasy. The place seemed fit for royalty in Ron's opinion. There were gigantic crystal chandeliers floating brightly near the ceiling made of mirrors. The floor also appeared to be made of mirrors as well, making the place appear dizzying but very beautiful and grand. At one wall was a theatre like stage with red velvet curtains and polished wooden floor. A crowd of men in overly colorful suits and robes sat, drinking, or smoking at tables covered with cloths of the finest silk while the beautiful dancers danced around in little frilly white outfits and singing:

"Anybody who is anybody

Will soon walk through that door

At Fat Zam's Grand Slam, speakeasy

Always able to fine you a table

There's room for just one more

At Fat Zam's Grand Slam, speakeasy"

Ron reluctantly gathered up his courage to walk in and ask for directions, half assuming that there's no way out of it, because he had somehow stumbled through some sort of loop hole in the universe and landed himself in a strange world where he must struggle to find a way out. Then he tripped and fell over, his suitcase falling with him onto something, or rather, someone.

"Ouch! Watch where you're going, will you?"

"I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry." Then he looked up and saw who it was, "oh it's you, dandruff."

"That beater bat could be classified as a dangerous weapon, you know."

"So can anyone's broom... The bat's a gift from my brother."

"So you like quidditch?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Watchin' or playin'?"

"Watchin', I suppose."

"Please sit down." The mop gestured him to a seat. Knowing the man's persistency, the red head complied. "So, what's your name?"

"Ron. Ron Weasley."

"Another one? How many Weasleys are there?"

"Seven, not including my mother and father."

"That's a big family. So, are you going to join the gang like the rest of your brothers?"

"No, I'm a singer, not a hoodlum."

"You're different from your brothers. I'm Harry, by the way, Harry Potter," He said, as he took Ron's hand in his own and kissed it, "At your service..."

Before he could say anymore, Ron grabbed his hand and pulled him under the table because at that moment a group of men in black trench coats on top of white suits and white bowler hats burst through the door and, with their big, black water guns, started shooting out a potion that dissolved everything in its way.

Ron and Harry huddled together as they hid away from the streams of clear, colorless, but dangerously corrosive liquid. Then, with an evil laughter, the gang took off, leaving the stunned guests of the speakeasy hiding under the melted tables and chairs.

"OK, everybody, its ok. Is any body hurt? No? Well, then there's nothing to worry about. Back to your tables."

"Repairo!" Suddenly everything went back to the way it was before, but that wasn't enough to calm everyone down.

"Music, Razamataz !" he who? screamed to the man at the piano, "I wanna see everybody enjoying themselves." It still wasn't working, finally, Zam gave in to his last resort. "Ok. FREE DRINKS FOR EVERYONE!"

This certainly got everyone's attention, for they all gave a loud cheer as the waiters busied themselves getting everyone drinks.

At that moment, Ron realized he had had enough of this place and walked out. Harry followed.
"So, can I give you a lift?" Harry asked once Ron finally got out.

"You gotta car?"

"No,"

"A broom?"

"No,"

"A portable fireplace for floo powder?"

"No,"

Ron rolled his eyes, "So, what are you gonna do, pick me up over your shoulders and carry me all the way there?"

"Well, I can if you let me. How much do you weigh?"

Ron's lips tightened before sighing loudly and walking away.

"You gotta place to stay?" He asked, once again eyeing the boy's many suitcases.

"Listen," the boy turned around, "I'm not into that sort of thing ok. I'm just a regular guy, just because I'm a singer and dancer doesn't make me... homosexual ok?" he said before once again walking away.

"You still didn't answer my question."

"No...I haven't gotta place to stay. But I'd rather live in the streets than having to cross dress or have sex with another man," he said proudly before once again turning around to walk away. The dark haired man snorted.

"I promise I won't make you do anything you don't want to do." Ron could hear the smile in his voice, the red head continued walking.

"I promise I won't attack you in the middle of the night or anything." The mop had once again started jogging after him. Ron continued to ignore him and walk on.

"Well, let me carry your bag at least." Ron paused, considering this. Well, I have been carrying it around for days, he thought, before dropping the three bags onto the pavement. The bespectacled man smirked before going to pick them up and following the red headed boy.

"So, have you eaten?" he asked after a while of silently walking after the stubborn red head.

"Ever since I was a child," Ron replied sarcastically.

"Oh yeah, then how come you're so skinny?"

"I watch my weight."

"Yeah, I do that when I'm broke too. So are you hungry?"

"No," Ron said, still being stubborn.

"Sure about that?" The man said, the smirk still plastered on his face. Ron considered this for a minute before the ache in his stomach took over his need to be away from the stranger.

"No, I'm not hungry...I'm starving."

Harry's smirk changed into a smile as he gestured for Ron to take his hand. Oh, what the hell, Ron thought, before giving him his hand and letting the man walk him away.

TBC