Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, but... I don't want all that... I'd rather just... SING! (I don't own Monty Python either)
Chapter 3: Change for the Nervous Child
Tom cleared away the empty glasses and headed back into the kitchen through two western-style swinging doors to drop them off for the cleaning crew to take care of. As he was pouring himself his own drink from the icebox the service bell sounded from the distant bar counter out front. Tom put his glass down and speed-walked towards the bar.
"Hello" A young boy looked up at him.
"Go away. Nobody will serve you here, you're too young. And don't tell me you just turned eighteen yesterday and everybody tells you, you look young for your age, because you'd be the ninth one today." Tom pointed to the exit.
"No, sir" he mumbled, "I just need change for a galleon." The boy held out a gold coin. Tom nabbed it from his hand and examined it for faults proclaiming 'I'm a fake! Jinx the cheating jerk who gave me to you,' but found it valid. He rummaged through his pockets. He counted out seventeen sickles on the counter and shoved them towards the boy.
"Thanks" the boy looked very anxious. "My gran's mad at me 'cause I forgot to get my books for transfiguration and Flourish and Blotts is closing in a few minutes and they've already locked away their cash box. That's why I need the change."
Tom stared at the boy. "Get along then if that's all you need."
The boy emptied the coins into his pocket and scuttled off to the entrance of Diagon Alley and disappeared behind the door.
"A nervous child if I've even seen one." Tom muttered as he went back into the kitchens to finish up his drink.
Neville scurried back into the dark Diagon Alley as the stores and shops around him closed their doors, put up signs and lights flickered out all around him. He managed to find his way back to Flourish and Blotts without getting lost. He heaved the heavy door open into the darkening book store, change clattering in his pocket.
"Finally" His grandmother said from next to the store clerk in the back of the store, beside the counter. "Hurry up, eleven sickles is all I need. You keep the rest for your visits to Hogsmeade, but don't lose it."
"Okay, gran" Neville counted out eleven sickles and handed them to his grandmother. The rest he held in his hand, rather than put them back in his pocket like a sensible child would do (which Neville is not).
The nameless store clerk (who is not important to this story, guess who's still holding the sickle?) dropped the books onto Neville's outstretched arms unceremoniously and quickly retreated to the back storage room leaving Neville and his grandmother to leave the shop themselves.
As soon as Neville stepped outside the door, he dropped a book... followed by the rest of the books and the left-over six sickles. A particularly heavy novel landed on his foot and while he was jumping up and down in pain most of the sickles, save two, were rolling out of sight and lodging themselves among various cobblestones.
"Neville! You clumsy child! Pick up these books! We must get home in time for the late night knitting show on the Wizarding Wireless!" His grandmother yelled at him as he scrambled to collect his strew books.
It wasn't until he was safely back home when he realized he'd dropped his Hogsmeade money in Diagon Alley.
Back in the darkened alley, the sickle lay (nearly) forgotten, partially stuck in a wad of old gum on the street.
Chapter 3: Change for the Nervous Child
Tom cleared away the empty glasses and headed back into the kitchen through two western-style swinging doors to drop them off for the cleaning crew to take care of. As he was pouring himself his own drink from the icebox the service bell sounded from the distant bar counter out front. Tom put his glass down and speed-walked towards the bar.
"Hello" A young boy looked up at him.
"Go away. Nobody will serve you here, you're too young. And don't tell me you just turned eighteen yesterday and everybody tells you, you look young for your age, because you'd be the ninth one today." Tom pointed to the exit.
"No, sir" he mumbled, "I just need change for a galleon." The boy held out a gold coin. Tom nabbed it from his hand and examined it for faults proclaiming 'I'm a fake! Jinx the cheating jerk who gave me to you,' but found it valid. He rummaged through his pockets. He counted out seventeen sickles on the counter and shoved them towards the boy.
"Thanks" the boy looked very anxious. "My gran's mad at me 'cause I forgot to get my books for transfiguration and Flourish and Blotts is closing in a few minutes and they've already locked away their cash box. That's why I need the change."
Tom stared at the boy. "Get along then if that's all you need."
The boy emptied the coins into his pocket and scuttled off to the entrance of Diagon Alley and disappeared behind the door.
"A nervous child if I've even seen one." Tom muttered as he went back into the kitchens to finish up his drink.
Neville scurried back into the dark Diagon Alley as the stores and shops around him closed their doors, put up signs and lights flickered out all around him. He managed to find his way back to Flourish and Blotts without getting lost. He heaved the heavy door open into the darkening book store, change clattering in his pocket.
"Finally" His grandmother said from next to the store clerk in the back of the store, beside the counter. "Hurry up, eleven sickles is all I need. You keep the rest for your visits to Hogsmeade, but don't lose it."
"Okay, gran" Neville counted out eleven sickles and handed them to his grandmother. The rest he held in his hand, rather than put them back in his pocket like a sensible child would do (which Neville is not).
The nameless store clerk (who is not important to this story, guess who's still holding the sickle?) dropped the books onto Neville's outstretched arms unceremoniously and quickly retreated to the back storage room leaving Neville and his grandmother to leave the shop themselves.
As soon as Neville stepped outside the door, he dropped a book... followed by the rest of the books and the left-over six sickles. A particularly heavy novel landed on his foot and while he was jumping up and down in pain most of the sickles, save two, were rolling out of sight and lodging themselves among various cobblestones.
"Neville! You clumsy child! Pick up these books! We must get home in time for the late night knitting show on the Wizarding Wireless!" His grandmother yelled at him as he scrambled to collect his strew books.
It wasn't until he was safely back home when he realized he'd dropped his Hogsmeade money in Diagon Alley.
Back in the darkened alley, the sickle lay (nearly) forgotten, partially stuck in a wad of old gum on the street.