Chapter 4

House Hunting

"Bleedin' hell," said Ron over his pint in the Leaky Caldron that lunchtime. "Let's hope we have more luck this afternoon. That last place! The "third" bedroom was a cupboard! Imagine sleeping in there!"

"Err, hello? What d'you think I did for the first eleven years of my life!" Harry took a bite of a ham sandwich from the huge wooden platter in the middle of the table. "Christ, you'd think being "the boy who lived" would give you an edge in the house hunting market. That one in New Cross wasn't fit for a house elf!"

Hermione scowled. "This isn't a very positive attitude you two! It's early days, we've only been looking for one morning and we've got three to look at this afternoon. We're bound to find somewhere eventually."

"Yeah, but when? I don't fancy living at Grimmauld Place much longer," said Harry.

"It beats the Burrow," said Ron.

"But that's 'cos you can't have Hermione in your room at the Burrow."

Hermione spluttered behind her flagon of butterbeer. "Do you mind? I am sitting right next to you, you know!"

"Sorry," said Harry, trying to look remorseful.

Ron blushed under his sunburn. "Okay, okay, I know we need to find somewhere, and fast." He turned suddenly to Hermione. "What about a muggle place? We've just been looking in the Daily Prophet so far."

"Don't you think we might arouse suspicion? Three kids leaving in wizards' robes every morning?"

"Duh! We'd apparate, wouldn't we? Here, Herm, what d'you reckon? Are muggle flats any better?"

She made a face. "Just as bad, if not worse, I'm afraid. Some of the stories I've heard from friends and relatives that have to rent because they're priced out of the housing market... Anyway, I think it'd have to be a wizarding apartment, 'cos Dumbledore'll have to protect it, put spells and charms on it and stuff so that we're safe from You-Know-Who."

Harry looked down into his dwindling pint, saying nothing.

"Ahh, well," sighed Ron cheerfully. "That's the trouble with living with The Boy Who Lived, as it were." He chortled and finished his drink.

Harry looked up. "Listen, if you two don't want to move in with me, it's fair enough, I understand..."

"Don't be ridiculous Harry," said Hermione. "We've been looking forward to this for ages, getting our freedom form school and parents. You deserve a normal life as much as we do, if not more. And we're going to try bloody hard to let you have one, despite everything."

"Yeah," said Ron enthusiastically. "Hermione and I know what we're getting into, but we're up for it. You-Know-Who might be out there, but there's parties to hold and booze to be drunk. No one's going to get in the way of that, as much as I can help it."

"Not too many parties though Ron," chided Hermione anxiously. "We will have work to go to most days, you know."

Ron made a face across the table, "yeah, yeah, mum..." he muttered.

Hermione pretended not to hear and turned back to Harry.

"Dumbledore'll protect the place, you'll see. He knows how important this is to you." She paused for a minute and surveyed their empty glasses. "Right, where's the next one? Shepherds Bush? We'd better get the tube..."

Hours later, the trio were surveying the seventh dingy hallway they'd seen that day. The walls were a grim mustard colour and dust lay thickly on the floor. Hermione flinched as something rustled in the comer.

"..and this is the first bedroom," the russet-haired middle-aged witch was saying, opening a door on her right. Inside, sunlight strained around the thick grey curtains to slightly reveal a messy room strewn with pizza boxes and rolls of parchment. "It's quite a good size, and all the furniture comes with it"

Harry wasn't sure, the place was filthy and you'd have been pushed to fit his old Hogwarts four-poster in with any room to spare.

"Urghhh, who's there?" came a groan from the darkened bed in the corner. They jumped, Harry hadn't realised someone was in there. When they'd met Mrs Fratchly outside of the flat no one had answered the buzzer so she'd let them in with her own set of keys.

"It's Mrs Fratchly, Tarquin. I'm showing some people around the flat."

The black lump rolled over with a loud "Humpff."

"Students," the witch explained as she closed the door behind them. "It's the last time I rent a place out to them. They're a nightmare."

Hermione looked appalled. Who was still in bed at five o'clock in the evening?

A quick tour of the rest of the flat showed two untidy bedrooms, although these were empty, a rotten blue bathroom suit and a kitchen-diner with an ancient stove and mice behind the fire place.

"We'll let you know," said Ron as they hurriedly made their exit, tripping over the traffic cone in the hallway as they went.

"Crap," sighed Harry, "this is hopeless. They're all horrible."

"One or two weren't bad," said Hermione, more optimistically than she felt. "Just needed a good sprucing. A few cleaning spells and they'd be okay. Maybe we could get permission to paint some of the walls too."

Ron looked doubtful. "That's not going to get rid of the rats or the terrible smell, or the kitchen cupboards full of bugs." He shuddered. "Still, good job I haven't much stuff to take with me. There wasn't room to swing Crookshanks in any of those bedrooms we saw."

"As if he'd let you," retorted Hermione, letting go of his hand. "We've been spoiled," she said matter of factly. "Living at Hogwarts has always been cosy, it's a bloody great castle for Christ's sake. We haven't has to rough it before, except you at the Dursleys, Harry."

"You're right." Harry blinked behind his glasses. "We were quite naive, I suppose."

"Let's hope tomorrow's Prophet has some more places advertised," said Ron as they made their way into the underground station. "I'm starving after today, anyone fancy a Chinese?"

Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement. "But let's go home first, I'm knackered. We can send Hedwig out to Mr Kim's."

As they walked into Sirius' kitchen, they saw another owl spluttering over the tea it sipped from Remus' saucer.

"How'd it go?" asked their former professor, putting down his book and getting up from his chair.

"Nightmare," said Harry, as he and Hermione sunk onto the heavy oak bench that seated one side of the kitchen table. Remus nodded sympathetically.

"When did Pig get here?" asked Ron, indicating the fluffball sitting on beside the tea cup.

"A few minutes ago, actually. This is for you." He handed a roll of parchment to Ron. "Tea, anyone? You all look like you could do with it."

"Please," said Hermione.

Harry nodded. "Where's Sirius?"

"In the bath," Remus placed three cups and saucers in front of them and brought over the teapot, resplendent in a Mrs Figg-style knitted teacosy.

Harry scrabbled in the pile of papers and post that seemed to live on the kitchen table, looking for Mr Kim's takeaway menu.

"Who's the letter from Ron?" asked Hermione, leaning her head on her hand.

"It's from dad. He says he saw some flats to rent on a notice board at work. Here, he's written them down for us." Harry, Hermione and Remus leaned over to see what Mr Weasley had written.

Dear Ron,

Just saw these on the notice board at work, and thought they might be worth looking into. Hope you are well and the holiday was a success. Your mother and I send our love,

Dad.

Underneath Mr Weasley had scribbled:

Flat to-let: 3 bedrooms, kitchen-diner, close to shops and amenities, Elephant and Castle, 70 Galleons a month. Mr Carmichael, 6 Green Villas, Croyden

Spacious flat to rent, 3 bedrooms, kitchen-diner and bathroom. Primrose Hill, 78 Galleons a month. Mr & Mrs Derrywine, The Granary, Silkton, Herts.

"They sound all right," shrugged Ron, looking at Hermione and Harry.

"Yeah, lets send Pig back saying we'll see them tomorrow morning," Harry reached over to the worktop trying to grab a quill and a piece of parchment.

"They sound quite promising Harry," said Remus, as he poured tea.

"Well, they couldn't be any worse than the ones we saw today," he grumbled as he wrote notes to Mr Carmichael and the Derrywines.

Remus looked at him anxiously, "You'll find somewhere, don't worry." Remus' heart ached for the three youngsters beneath his tattered lambs wool sweater. They looked so young, they'd only been out of school a week and he hated to see them under so much pressure already when they should be having fun. Still, that was being an adult for you. With a quiet sigh, he turned to Hermione and Ron who were squabbling over the Mr Kim's menu.

"Ron, don't get the chow-main, you hate bean sprouts!"

"No, I don't, it's Harry who doesn't like them."

"It's you who doesn't. Don't get it, 'cos then you won't eat it and you'll eat all of mine!"

"Why don't we get the set menu? That way you get a choice of several dishes." Remus leant against the kitchen cupboards behind them in his battered old cords and found himself half wishing they'd find a place soon.