Shampoo147: I've got a C in Psychology.

Ayame: There's not much more to say than this:

Shampoo147/Jackie/Ayame: I'M SOOOOOOOOO SORRY!

On Fire

Harry quietly maneuvered himself through the unfamiliar streets of London. He had taken extra precaution to memorize the location of the Leaky Cauldron, for he was quite sure he would get lost, to ask a please-man-

(Policeman, moron.)

Harry scowled slightly, 'fine'

He was quite sure he would get lost and when he did, he could ask a policeman to guide him back.

After a few more moments of looking, Harry saw a man with several kids waiting to cross the street. He quickly joined them and waited until they were across the roads to catch the man's attention.

"Excuse me, sir?" Harry asked in his most shy voice.

The man blinked and looked down, "Hullo there, are you lost?"

"Yes, but I wanted to ask you something else."

The man's eyebrows raised and he replied, "Really? Well, what do you want to know?"

"Sir, how many books will a few . . . " 'What's the word? What's the damn word?'

(Pounds)
'Thank you'
(Hurry up and say something before the man thinks you're subnormal and gets away from you/)

"pounds, get me, sir?"

"Well, that depends on the books. You could probably get a book in a second-hand store, but not in real store. The cheapest book I've seen that's not second hand would be ₤9.10. Sorry kid, would you like me to guide you home?"

"No thank you, your kids seem hard to handle, but could you direct me to a policeman?"

"They are, there's one right over there, okay, take care, young man."

"Thank you, sir." And with that parting, Harry walked to the policeman and spoke up.

"Sir?"

The policeman blinked before turning to Harry and asking, "Yes, are you lost?"

'Why is that the automatic assumption?'
(Because you're a kid)
'Right'

"Yes sir, I am. Could you direct me to Tresher Street? *"

"Sure, it's not that far from here, are your parents there?"

"They were when I lost them."

"Very well, come along." Then with that said, the policeman began walking towards what Harry could only assume was Tresher Street.

As Harry was following, a thought occurred to him and he turned to the man of the muggle law and asked, "What's copper, silver, and gold worth?"

The man of authority looked at him oddly before saying, "It really depends on how much you're talking about, but pure metal like that is worth more than a couple of pounds."

The man said nothing more, and Harry did not pursue the subject.

Safely back into his room, the cop had been wary of letting him to himself, until Harry approached a random pair and said, "Hello, I'm here," in where the man left. Shortly after the law enforcer left, Harry went to the Leaky Cauldron, leaving a befuddled pair in his wake.

(What was with the metallic worth question?)

'I've been thinking, if the worth of things of our society and their society is so different, why wouldn't material worth be the same? From the way the man reacted, I can easily conclude that currency, such as copper, silver, and gold is worth more to the muggles than it is to the magic folk.'

(Clever little trickster! Wonderful thinking, now you just have to find out the difference.)

'Yes, it is not late in the day, so if I were to be so inclined, I could ask the currency exchange rate from magicfolk money to muggle money. Then, I take a single knut, sickle, and galleon to the muggle society and see how the two compare from there.'

(Good thinking. Well, what are you waiting for?)

'No need to get so upset.'

A quiet flutter of black cotton weaved its way through the crowded streets of Diagon Alley to Gringotts and was unnoticed by all.

The figure in black maneuvered through the bank's front entrance and to the first teller he saw.

"Excuse me, goblin-sir?" Harry asked in a shy voice.

The goblin spared him a glance before saying, "Yes, what do you want?" none too kindly.

"What's the exchange rate from wizarding money, galleons for the moment, to muggle money, pounds?" Harry asked, determined to commit the next piece of information to memory.

The goblin didn't seem too interested and simply said, "15 pounds to a galleon."

"Thank you, sir" biting his lip, Harry departed and wandered through Diagon Alley to the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry wandered through muggle London a few moments before asking someone where he would go to sell something without getting into trouble. They appeared to assume he was a runaway and had directed him to a pawnshop run by an eccentric rich man.

Entering the shop, Harry was surprised at the sense of disuse in the air, but the shop was so nicely kept that it would be easy to have trouble believing they may lack business. At the sound of the bell, a middle-aged man looked up from his place behind the counter and smiled, approaching him.

"Hullo there, is there anything I can help you with?" the man asked nicely.

Harry gulped and replied, "Yes, I have something to sell, but I don't want to get into any trouble."

The man smiled again and replied, "Don't worry, if you're willing to sell this, I can deal with any legitimate dealings for you. Now, what do you have for me?"

A bit more at ease, but still ready to run at any given moment, Harry pulled out a galleon from his pouch and handed it over to the man. He watched as the man's face took on a surprising expression of pure business and excitement. Harry decided there and then that the coin was worth more in the muggle society than in the magical society.

(No, how'd you guess?)

'Shut up.'

"Real gold, this is real gold." The man was muttering to himself.

After roughly an hour of waiting, Harry finally became impatient and said a somewhat loud voice, "Sir? Are you almost done examining it?"

The man jumped and nodded, Harry noted the hesitation in his nod, however.

"20,000 pounds." The man said, his voice firm and final.

Harry blinked, then blinked again.

'20,000 pounds!' was playing through his head like his broken record player.

(Take what's offered, double it, and haggle)

'Why? 20,000 is plenty enough. One galleon for 20,000 pounds will equal a rough dividend of 1333 galleons.'

(Just do it)

'…'

"40,000."

The man looked at him, his eyes hard and firm, "30,000."

(Divide the difference between the two and subtract it from your current sum)

"35,000"

"31,000."

"37,500 pounds or I'll walk out of this shop and sell elsewhere."

"I've got-"

"Squat, it's right here, and I can run faster than you can aim and pull a trigger to the gun I know you probably have tucked somewhere around your person."

"Damn you kid, fine, 37,500 pounds for your gold coin."

"Thank you sir." (Ask for cash) "I would much prefer cash, please."

The man was already counting out the money, and simply said, "Of course you do."

Harry quietly walked with the suitcase full of pounds that the man had given him. 37,500 pounds, divided by the exchange rate of fifteen pounds to a galleon, he now had the equivalent to 2500 galleons, not a bad investment from 1 galleon.

(No, not a bad investment at all, but the teller started out too high, you need to do this again and ask for 50,000 pounds.)

'What? Why? Isn't that a bit pushy?'

(Good point, 60,000.)

'WHAT? That's definitely asking for too much money. It'll never pull through!'

(Do it, it'll work, just try again. Wander around first, London's big and dense, just what you need to get a higher price for something you've already sold.)

Irate, and not very willing to get lost in muggle London, Harry continued to the Leaky Cauldron.

(Hey, didn't you hear what I said?)

'Of course I did, you're in my head, I just decided to ignore you.'

(I do NOT remember being so stubborn when I was young.)

'What do you mean, 'when I was young'? Aren't you a part of my psyche?'

(Enough of this, there's the simple fact that you do need to do this, good funds are essential for any life.)

'I don't think so.'

(Do it, or I'll start singing.)

'Surely you can't-'

(HAVE SOME COMPOSURE
WHERE IS YOUR POSTURE?
OH-NO-OH-OH-OH-OH

YOU'RE PULLING THE TRIGGER
PULLING THE TRIGGER-)

'ALL RIGHT! Just stop singing! I'll go try to cheat someone else.'

(Good.)

'I hate you.'

(I am you.)

So, with an unwilling growl, Harry Potter turned around and started going random directions around London, got lost in ten minutes, and amused himself for five, watching the rats scurry.

Huffing, and having just asked some shady looking teenagers where he could go for the nearest 'pawnshop,' Harry walked into the slightly dusty store; the bell announcing his presence.

'I don't like this.'

(It'll be okay. Just do as I say.)

'Why did those teenagers just let me through with the information I needed?'

(Because I'm a part of you and as such, I can manipulate the magic you give off randomly to certain whims; such as compelling a couple of troubled teens into helping the little boy with green eyes.)

'What? What does that mean, how?'

(I'll explain later, now look sharp and do as I say!)

Harry snapped to attention at this and looked the shady looking man who was eyeing him with interest. He drew himself up, sensing that keeping his composure would be a good way to get a slight leeway into respect.

(Respect . . .)

'What?'

(Look sharp!)

Harry refocused onto the man, who looked ready to speak.

"So, what can I do for a young man such as you? You don't look very lost." At this, the man smiled a smile and Harry dully noted the slightly sharp canines.

"No, sir, I'm not lost. My parents sent me here, they wanted me to sell you this," and Harry withdrew a galleon and placed it on the counter separating them. The man surveyed the galleon with just as much scrutiny as the other and was muttering similar things as the other.

Harry waited for thirty minutes before interrupting, "Sir, now that I'm sure you're certain of it's authenticity, I would like to see how much you would pay for this."

The man looked at him and clenched tighter on the gold coin, "40,000 pounds, no more."

"Sir, I would like it very much if I held the coin."

"I'm sure you would, how about I keep a hand on this and you leave, how does that sound?"

'Anything?'

(Yeah, I'm channeling your magic now, when I say so, point your index finger at him and yell, "Stupefy.")

'Yeah, I can do that.'

(Good, now keep him in your sight.)

"Sir, how about you hand me what you offered and then I leave?"

"Don't think so, keed. No run along home before you get hurt in a neighborhood like this."

"Sir, I warn you-"

"Of what? A temper tantrum, now run along and tell your parents that you got messed up with the wrong people and got nothing to show for it."

(Now.)

Harry felt a sudden surge of power flush through his body; causing his nerves to sing in pain and pleasure, so much that it was exhilarating, invigorating, stimulating . . . frightening. So much power, too much power. Too much, too much too much

Without a moment's thought, Harry pointed at the surprised dealer
'Too much power'

"STUPEFY!"

A burning sensation ripped through his body and to his finger, his good finger
'too much, dear Merlin, there's too much!'
sending off a ripple effect of burning pain through his nerves from the tip of his index finger, where a dark red light just ripped out and hit the poor dealer in the chest 'Oh, dear Merlin, I'm BURNING! I'M ON FIRE!'

Shampoo147: I hate to leave it off there, but I have limited Internet time, sorry.

Ayame: Thank you for reading!

Jackie: Please like this chapter.