Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was the coldest winter in a decade, which prompted Ron to look in his closet for his winter clothes. Upon inspecting them all, Ron realised that most were too small. He had his knitted sweater from last year that fit, and that was it. The ill-fitting sweaters, worn-out clothes, and the awful Yule dress robes were something Ron wouldn’t wear again.

So, when Padma had told Ron that Parvati and she would often sell their used clothes at a shop called Clothes 2 Hand and donated the completely worn-out robes for children’s art projects, Ron decided to do the same and hopefully make a quick galleon with his unwearable winter leftovers.

On his way there, Ron raised his scarf in front of his face to prevent his nose from going numb.

Last week, he’d bought new, thick winter robes from the money his parents had given him, which was all he could afford. Looking at the Christmas lights everywhere, they were in sharp contrast to the dark sky, even though it was only five. Holding harder onto his bags, he exhaled into his scarf to warm up his nose.

Looking at the window, a couple of sickles exchanging hands for a robe, he knew he had come to the right place.

When Ron entered the shop, he walked up to the counter where an elderly lady was busy sewing a skirt pattern.

“Sorry for bringing the cold in,” Ron said, shivering as the cold wind blew in through the door.

“That’s alright, Love. How may I help you?” the woman asked kindly.

“I’d like to donate these worn-out winter clothes to the children’s art projects.” Ron pointed to the biggest bag in his hand.

“And I’ve also got some other stuff that you probably won’t give any money for, but it’s still good enough to use again. Where would you like me to put that?” Ron added nervously.

“That’s very kind of you, Love. Why don’t you place the donations into the big bin behind you and then let me look at the other robes?”

Ron did as he was told and felt really good about donating the worn-out robes. He would’ve put it in the trash, but his parents always said to never throw anything out, and now that he was of age, he could choose the destination of his too-small clothes.

He handed the woman the bag with a few clothes that were still good enough for someone else.

“These maroon sweaters with the letter ‘R’ on them are made from very good material. Perfect for this cold weather! This is also excellent craftsmanship,” the woman commented appreciatively as her hands went through the knitted fabrics.

Ron felt a rush of appreciation for his mother; the sweaters had been lovely and warm, and now it was time for some other child to wear them.

She took out the next set of winter robes that were not too worn out for wear, but Ron estimated that she would not give him a sickle for them.

“These robes are of good quality and, oh my!” The woman looked inside the pant legs and smiled again.

“Nearly invisible to the trained eye even.”

Ron felt even more proud and decided that he should do something for his mum to appreciate everything she’d done for him as soon as he’d received his first paycheck.

“Who has made this? Do you know?” the woman asked.

“My mother loves knitting,” Ron answered.

“Tell her that if she wants to apply for a job here, she is more than welcome. We don’t pay a lot, but we can certainly use her skillset.”

“Thank you, I’ll pass it along when I see her,” Ron said gratefully.

“Good.” She started rummaging through the bag again.

“Oh, and what’s this?” she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Ron felt his red face turn bright red as the woman took out the last set of clothes, the ugliest dress robes Ron had ever seen.

The woman was quiet now, and whilst Ron had expected her to laugh and tell him to put it in the art donation bin, the woman seemed the most excited by these robes.

“Where did you get this?” the woman asked sharply, and she looked up at him with so much interest that Ron shifted uncomfortably.

“My mother bought them at a second-hand shop somewhere,” he replied hastily.

The woman put on her magnifying glasses and started to inspect the fabric closely. She sniffed the clothes and followed every seam with her fingers.  

Ron got a little impatient as he waited for a few minutes, whilst the woman inspected his horrible dress robes.

“Do you know who this belonged to?” she finally asked and looked up at him intently.

“No?” Ron replied questioningly.

“In 1887, the sacred twenty-eight family Selwyn had four heirs. The youngest, William, had fallen in love with a Muggle French Princess named Marie. These were the robes he wore during their winter wedding for the magical community. These ruffles were added for extra warmth in the chest, whilst the lace sleeves allowed for more breathing of the skin during the dancing.”

Ron’s eyes widened.

“So…” he started tentatively.

“To the right buyer, between three to five thousand galleons.”

“Could you help me find a buyer?” Ron asked.

“Of course, Love, I’d be honoured!” She smiled warmly at him.

After receiving fourteen galleons for the robes and jumpers, Ron went back to the Apparition point in Diagon Alley. Hiding his face in his scarf once again, his heart warmed in this cold winter weather with love and gratitude for his parents, especially his mum. He should send them on an all-paid holiday to somewhere warm and sunny to thank them for everything they’d done for him. And when it slowly started snowing, he realised that this was the warmest he’d felt all week.