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HP stories following Canon but PRE-OotP >> Bathroom Magic by sashakula13

Simple Text - To view MORE chapters use the chapter jump box to the right.

It was a warm, muggy, early September morning at King's Cross Station. Just like every year, magical children from all over the British Isles were entering Platform Nine and Three Quarters to take the faithful Hogwarts Express back to their live-in school of witchcraft and wizardry. However, a few of these students were taking a bit longer to enter the platform than they would have liked.

"Ron, we all went before leaving for the station! Why didn't you go when we had the time?" Hermione asked, as she glared at Ron

"It's not my fault. I didn't need to go before!" Ron replied loudly, for the sound of an approaching train was deafening the three teenagers.

"You should have gone anyway! How did you forget-"

"I was in a rush-"

"Mate, just go quickly; I want to get a good compartment on the train." Harry then added impatiently, "The loo's over there," while pointing to a navy blue door with a wooden sign that had 'Gentlemen' nailed to it.

Ron didn't need telling twice. The redhead rushed over to the bathroom door and pushed it open to reveal a dozen each of spotless stalls and urinals propped up against white walls , all above beautifully tiled floors of black. Flower baskets filled with begonias draped from the ceiling; shining mirrors and marble counters lined the long row of unblemished sinks.

"Wow," Ron thought. "It looks like they have a lot of house-elves to work this place!"

He didn't have time to admire the restroom, though, for his bladder was beckoning. The young wizard ran over to the nearest urinal and relieved himself. After he was finished, he reached for the handle to flush, but only felt flat, smooth metal- there was no handle. Moments later, Ron jumped as the toilet unexpectedly flushed on its own.

"Weird.... do Muggles know bathroom magic or something?" He stared, wide eyed, at where the handle should be.

At that second, a brown-haired, tall, and middle-aged man in an expensive-looking black suit burst into the room and briskly strolled straight to one of the numerous urinals. Intrigued, Ron followed each of the man’s movements to see how those things worked.

The man stood in front of his urinal, managing himself. Ron stepped closer to see how the urinal would work. However, the man seemed to catch the movement behind him, and leaned closer to the vessel in an attempt to save his dignity.

“Mind your own business, boy!” the man said from his difficult position. Ron gave some steps back as his ears turned red, but kept his eyes on the man’s back. The man continued to address Ron infuriated glares.

Finally, the man finished his business and moved to the door. The urinal flushed with apparent life of its own behind the man, causing Ron’s eyes to virtually pop out. However, Ron wanted to see the faucets work, too.

“Not going to wash your hands, I see.” Ron’s voice came out with a tone of disgust.

The man, whose hand was on the door, stopped dead on his tracks. Ron thought he could feel the waves of anger emanating from the man’s figure. The man glared at Ron before stomping to the sinks.

To Ron's amazement, he waved a pale hand under a faucet, and a consistent stream of water came out. He washed his sweaty hands and face, and then walked over to a white box-like thing with a stainless silver pipe sticking out of the machine's bottom. Once again, he waved a hand under that pipe, and a jet of hot air shot out like a cannon, drying his wet hands. Ron was now staring at the man blankly, but the gent had enough of Ron. He quickly opened the door and left the bathroom.

Ron was in a hurry, but he had to try this for himself. The boy, as the man had done, ran his hand under the same sink faucet, and a stream of water came out. He then tried this trick on all of the other faucets, and under each and every one, persistent water came out. With a maniacal gleam in his eyes, he started at one end of the row of sinks and ran along them while waving his hand under all of the faucets. Water appeared from under all in turn.

Ron then rushed to the white box with the pipe and ran his hand under it. A jet of hot air forced the water off his flesh comfortably, and within seconds, they were dry again. It felt so good to him, he did it again. And again… And again-

The bathroom door blasted open, and Harry ran in, sputtering. "Ron, are you okay- What the bloody hell are you doing?”

"Harry, look! It's bathroom magic-"

”We’ve been waiting for you for fifteen minutes! The train is leaving in five!”

"But, Harry, just see this," Ron said, pointing at a sink.

Harry looked puzzled for a second, but then resumed talking, a bit more quietly this time.

”Ron-” Harry tried, but he was at a loss for words. He would never have thought his best friend would be so amused by common bathroom appliances.

"No, look at how they work. They're magic!" Ron said, running a freckled hand under a faucet.

Understanding suddenly blazed in Harry's face. He knew that Ron had grown up in a Wizarding house. He was oblivious to most Muggle inventions and ways of life, and the dark-haired young man felt a twinge of guilt for yelling at his best friend so harshly.

"Ron," Harry said, with a tone of voice someone teaching a small child would use, "these sinks and hand dryers-"

"Oh, that's what they're called," Ron muttered as he ran his hand back and forth beneath the faucet head.

"-use motion-sensors to sense, well, motion. When it does, either water, hot air, or whatever comes out. Sometimes Muggles use motion-sensors as alarms in their houses."

"Oh," Ron whispered as his cheeks flamed red.

"Anyway, we've got to go. I'll tell you about this more on the train," Harry said as he tugged on Ron’s shirt sleeve.

"Yeah, let's go," Ron replied, feeling slightly put down but still pushing open the restroom door. But right outside, Hermione was waiting, arms crossed.

“What happened?” she asked once they reached her.

Harry glanced concernedly at Ron before answering. “Nothing.” He knew that Ron would get mad if he said anything of what happened in the bathroom to Hermione.

Hermione studied Ron’s face that carried a troubled expression. “But-“

“It’s nothing, Hermione!” Harry cut her off. Ashamed of snapping at Hermione, he then continued in a softer tone. “Let’s just say that I helped Ron with something in the bathroom…” he said with a grin.

Her eyes widened in shock. “I must say, Harry, that I’m very much amazed by your solidarity with Ron,” she said in awe. Harry’s smile instantly dissolved.

“That’s not what-“

“It’s okay, Harry. Spare me the details,” she said firmly, taking her cart with her trunk and pushing it towards the barrier. Then she added with a mischievous grin, “The next time, I can help, too…”

She walked away, leaving a gaping Harry and an even more astounded Ron.


if you can't tell i'm REALLY bored today!

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