August 8th, 1894 — a street corner

The summer was advancing without care for the boy Leonard Blank, who had a hard time keeping up with it. Today again he was on his way down from Wellingtonshire, where he had overstayed his welcome.
He skipped down the street towards the slums in his too-short trousers, carrying his too-small shoes in his hands.
The aunts and ladies of the Shire did not like him without his shoes and in ill-fitting clothes; it reminded them that he was poor, growing poorer and, worst of all, he had the likewise growing suspicion, was growing out of being so adorable that they wanted him around.

After a while, he stopped and stood at a street corner, set out his hat in front of him and started singing.
The pure voice of the boy filled the morning air, climbing through the solo verse of "La Nuit" in French, perfect in pronunciation and devoid of understanding.

A few coins landed in the cap, tossed in by passersby.

Oh nuit, oh laisses encore à la terre
Le calme enchantement de ton mystère
L'ombre qui t'escorte est si douce
Est-il une beauté aussi belle que le rêve
Est-il de vérité plus douce que l′espérance

Leonard focused on the second repetition and closed his eyes, which was, perhaps, unwise with the cap and the coins in front of him and the street corner now empty.

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--- Charley Goode ---

  

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The streets of Hogsmeade had a powerful rhythm to them. Not everyone could hear it, that was something the urchin had come to notice. Sometimes the idlers and amblers could, and usually the merchants. The sort who spent their days relying on it, or might have the time to waste on it. Charley didn't exactly waste time, she simply enjoyed her free time when it came to her.

Right now her free time was letting her follow the rhythm of Hogsmeade, letting it coax her deeper into the slums. The urchin had little to fear here, not when she had lived and lurked in shadows like the ones she passed by. She wasn't looking for a shadow to hide about in today, today Charley wanted to be in plain view. A player more than a watcher, all she needed to find was the right rhythm.

Her ears perked up as Charley heard the song drifting around the street corner. Rounding it, she found a boy of pure voice carrying a sweet tune, far better than any her own could carry. Curious at first, she found herself inching closer. Her body felt drawn to him, captivated by the music he was making with only his voice.

She stepped over the cap set before him on the street, extending her legs and arms with the new rhythm they had found. Charley hadn't danced like this for so long, but now she danced to the boy's solemn tune, taking her steps wide and slow while the rest of her followed gracefully. Perhaps more graceful than an urchin was expected to be, drawing from all the nimbleness of the hands that could lift out a wallet undisturbed and feet that could run easily across rooftops.

When her own cap fell from her head, she let it stay there on the street corner. If the corner had not been empty someone might have thrown a coin or two in there, but all Charley cared about now was following the rhythm of the music. As if the boy was singing to her, alone. He might be, all she cared for now was the dance.

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Sometime after the girl had appeared in his corner, Leonard opened his eyes; he saw her dancing and his voice grew unsteady for only a second. Then he found his way back into the song and into the third repetition, the fourth and then it was over.
He glanced at her, then smiled. She was a small girl with reddish hair. He thought he saw her around sometimes.
"Want me to sing another one?"
Her dancing he liked. She was nimble and a bit odd; there was something charming to her graceful movements. And no one was here.
What else was there to do?
Leonard looked at her, expectantly.
"Tell me a song, I'll try to sing it for you. And you dance. But hands off my cap," he decreed, putting out the rules of the game they were about to play.

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   Charley Goode

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The song ended, and it was too soon for her feet. They kept going, with nearly a mind of their own, for a few beats more. Charley might have kept humming it herself, her voice wasn't the best for singing but she could hum and intone with her lips moving. Her feet stilled, alongside her desires, to find the boy staring at her.

"That was pretty," she shrugged, glancing back at the singer. He was tall and lanky, but the oddest thing to her was that he seemed alone. Most boys his shape ran with others, there was strength in numbers down here. Charley wasn't all that scared of those sorts, she could outrun most and outclimb the rest, but it made her peer narrowly at the boy for a moment.

Then she glanced down at his cap with a giggle. "En't a thief," she murmured. Not that there was anything there to steal, exempt maybe a knut hiding in the creases.

Charley kicked her own cap to the side, not caring for its snug embrace at the moment. It was times like these that she could have found comfort in a dress again, letting it flow and whirl around her as she moved. Trousers would have to make do today, just like they would have to make do with the boy's voice alone. "Issit a free song for every lass that'll spin for ya? 'Cause I en't payin', neither, not with coin nor nothin' else, so don't be gettin' ideas."

She grinned, like it would soften the blow for him. He seemed nice enough, or rather polite enough, and that was dangerous. Her pa always thought the polite ones were the real vipers, better to show some fang in the streets than find herself in one's nest. "D'ya know the Bold Fisherman?"

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   Leonard Blank

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"It is free for you, today, because I'm nice like that. Tomorrow I'll need to think about it again. Have a business to run, you see?" Leonard watched the girl, half laughing. She was feisty, he could see it. "It's not like I have a spinning lass around my corner every day," he added suddenly and defensively. No one should say that he was giving girls any favors. What else she would be paying with, he did not even understand, but he did not like the sound of that. He turned, maybe, a slight shade of red.
"D'ya know the Bold Fisherman?" she asked him. "Sure do," he replied. It was kinda romantic, that song; the kind girls liked, and the women down at the taverns.
Leonard felt a bit shy now. But no one could say that he did not try to deliver whatever was asked of him.

So he sang:

As I roved out one May morning
Down by the riverside
There I beheld a bold fisherman
Come rowing by the tide
Come rowing by the tide
There I beheld a bold fisherman
Come rowing by the tide

I stepped up to this bold fisherman
“How come you are fishing here?”
“I've come a-fishing for your sweet sake
All by the river clear
All by the river clear
I've come a-fishing for your sweet sake
All by the river clear”

His eyes closed and he focused on the notes. He saw them like lights behind his eyelids. He sang the woman's verse and was relieved to reach the heights of it with ease. It was not the hardest song. Just as he was singing the part about the maid's lily-white hand, Leo remembered to look to see if the girl was dancing again.

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   Charley Goode

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