“Welcome to the Knight Bus,” said a voice from above Hari. He looked up and saw a vaguely familiar teenage boy, dressed in a purple uniform and staring down at him. He couldn’t have been older than 19, a lanky and pale boy with shoulder-length mousy brown hair and acne. Hari swore he had seen him somewhere.

“For the stranded witch or wizard, the Knight Bus will take you anywhere you want to go, as long as it’s still on land. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening…” droned the conductor monotonously. Hari recognised the name, having seen him around Hogwarts when he was much younger. Stan paused, tilting his head at Hari. “What’re you doin’ down there for?” he asked.

Hari stumbled to his feet, shouldering his backpack and glaring. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” he grumbled, huffing. His panic was slowly starting to fizzle out, leaving him frustrated and uncomfortable. He just wanted to go home, but he knew he couldn’t. His hand was bleeding from landing on the rough ground and his head was starting to ache from the dull throb of anxiety. He looked over his shoulder again where that animal had been, but the bushes were empty once again.

“What you looking at?” asked Stan, peering over Hari’s shoulder.

“Nothing,” he replied instantly. “How much to get to London?” he asked, fumbling around the front pocket of his backpack for a few sickles or galleons leftover.

“That’ll be eleven sickles,” replied Stan. “But for fifteen I’ll add a hot chocolate.” Hari nodded and handed over a handful of the silver coins. As Hari stepped on board, Stan added, “What’s your name?”

Hari hesitated for a moment. He couldn’t just tell him his real name if the Ministry was going to be after him. “Vernon Dudley,” he said, stepping in the doorway to the bus.

Instead of being filled with seats like any ordinary bus, there were several beds scattered throughout the bus. There were a few people fast asleep under the plum coloured sheets and Hari saw even more on the floors above. Hari moved to the other end of the bus, skirting around the beds and sitting down on an empty one at the back and dropping his bag beside him.

Stan followed Hari to the end of the bus and sat down in a seat, right behind the driver. Hari regretted his choice of bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up and avoid having to talk to anyone. But he knew from growing up that he would have to just bite his tongue and be polite, no matter how much he longed to do anything but that.

“That’s our driver Ernie Prang,” said Stan, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. “Ern, this here’s Vernon Dudley.”

Ernie Prang was a wizened old man with large, thick glasses that made his watery eyes bulge, dressed in a purple waistcoat and matching pointed hat on his thin white hair. He nodded and grinned at Hari, showing a few missing teeth in his otherwise cheerful smile.

“Take her away, Ern.”

At once, there was a massive BANG as the bus suddenly teleported somewhere else and Hari was thrown backwards, flattened on top of the bed. He narrowly avoided toppling off at the sudden racing speed of the bus and rolled over to look out the window. Country hills and grazing animals were racing past the window as the Knight Bus zipped along an old country road. Hari felt his chest ache with longing, reminded of home.

“C-can’t the Muggles see or hear the bus?” asked Hari faintly, gripping tightly to the foot of the bed to keep from falling off.

“Them! Don’t listen or see nothing, do they?” replied Stan dismissively.

Ernie cleared his throat and said to Stan, “Better go wake Mrs. Marsh. We’re almost at Abergavenny.”

Stan made his way up the aisle towards the staircase, disappearing up them. Hari continued staring out the window at the hills flashing past the window. A second later, the bus stopped abruptly and Hari was thrown off the bed with the force of it, hitting his head on the corner of the window with a grunt of pain. Crawling back up to the bed, panting and dazed, Hari watched Stan walking an older lady with a shawl around her head off the bus.

Stan returned to his seat and Hari only just managed to grab hold of the end of his bed before the bus was taking off into the night once again.

The bus trundled along another country lane, unseen to Muggles as it curled around trees and mailboxes in its way. Hari watched the sites zipping past with a growing sense of dread, palms sweaty and stomach churning with something other than motion sickness. He wondered what would happen to him, curious as to whether someone managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling.

Stan opened up a copy of that morning’s Daily Prophet and Hari saw the photograph of Sirius Black staring back at him again. Gone was the carefree grin and bright eyes, replaced by tangled, matted black hair, gaunt eyes and frail skin. In the faint light, Hari read the article about Sirius, titled as: Black still at large

As he skimmed the article, Hari felt even worse. Hari looked into the dark eyes of Sirius Black, which looked like the only alive thing left in the man. He looked eerily corpse-like with his waxy, pallid skin that seemed to hang off his bones like a starved man. He had been so handsome in the photos Hari remembered from his childhood, but now he looked unrecognisable, unhuman.

“Scary lookin’ thing, innit?” said Stan, following Hari’s gaze at his paper. Hari nodded faintly, not trusting himself to open his mouth in case he threw up. “He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who,” he added.

“What, Voldemort?” Hari blurted without thinking.

Stan’s whole face went paper white, his eyes bulging. Ernie jerked the steering wheel in surprise, almost knowing over a letterbox.

“You off your nut?” yelped Stan, gaping in horror. “What you say his name for?”

“Sorry, I—I forgot—”

“Forgot!” exclaimed Stan, clutching his chest with his hand. “Blimey, my heart’s going mad.”

Hari took a shaky breath. “So—so Black was a Death Eater?” Hari stammered weakly, stomach turning.

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Stan, still clutching his chest. “Very close to him, I heard. When little Harry Potter got the better of You-Know-Who, they rounded up all his supporters. Black was one of the last of ‘em found. He was in a Muggle street, loads of witnesses around.

“But that Black didn’t care. He blasted the whole street and when the Ministry showed up to cart him away, he was cackling the whole time,” explained Stan, “Horrible, innit? He’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?” Stan knocked on the wall beside the driver’s seat with his knuckles. Ernie made a grunting noise of vague agreement.

“And now he’s out,” said Stan, shaking his head and glancing down at the newspaper with Sirius Black’s gaunt face staring up at him. “Never been a break out before, didja know that? Beats me how he did it. Scary, innit? I don’t wanna try my chances with them guards of Azkaban.”

Ernie shivered and told Stan to change the subject. He reluctantly put away his newspaper and Hari leaned back against the window, feeling worse by the second. He had broken wizarding law yet again. Surely he would end up in a cell in Azkaban, just like Sirius Black. He felt a strange urge to cry but bit his tongue, focusing on the street lamps glaring in his face as the Knight Bus continued along the suburban street.

Hari remembered Hagrid’s face when he was told he had to spend time at Azkaban. Hari had never seen him so afraid in his life. Hari had heard the terrified whispers of adults whenever they mentioned the wizard prison, situated in the middle of the North Sea, guarded by something Hari had never bothered to ask about. The looks on people’s faces alone was enough to put Hari off even thinking about how horrifying the guards must have been. And now he might be going there…

“Where abouts in London you wanna go, eh, Vernon?” asked Stan a few minutes later.

“Leaky Cauldron, please,” said Hari automatically.

There was another loud BANG and the Knight Bus arrived on the familiar street of Charing Cross, twisting and bending out of the way of traffic. It sped around a corner so fast Hari fell off the bed again, hitting his head on the side, seeing stars. Then, the bus thudded to a complete stop, jolting Hari once again.

Hari stumbled to his feet and grabbed his backpack, head aching and a lump forming somewhere under his curly black hair. He looked out the window and recognised the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, its sign hanging over the door.

“Here we are, Vernon. The Leaky Cauldron,” said Stan.

“Cheers,” said Hari weakly, trudging down the aisle past the beds. He jumped off the step and looked up at Stan, leaning out of the doorway. “Well, see you!” he added, forcing himself to smile.

But Stan wasn’t looking at Hari. He followed the older boy’s gaze at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and felt his blood run cold.

Dressed in his green bowler hat, emerald green cape and a red waistcoat was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. He stepped off the pavement and grasped Hari’s shoulder firmly, sending a shiver up his spine.

“There you are, Hari,” he said, pulling Hari towards the door.

“Whatcha calling Vernon, Minister?” asked Stan, bowing his head and grinning. Hari didn’t see what the fuss was about; he wasn’t the Queen.

“Vernon? This is Hari Potter,” replied Fudge irritably. He pushed Hari towards the doorway again, taking no notice of Hari’s grimace and eye roll. “Thank you for taking Hari, but I need him to step inside the Leaky Cauldron. Good day.” And then Hari was being shunted inside, Stan’s excited calls to Ernie being cut off by the door slamming in his face.

“A private parlor, please, Tom,” said Fudge pointedly to the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom beckoned them in through a passage behind the bar and Hari followed miserably, anxiety still thick in his blood.

They marched along an ill-lit passage behind Tom until he led them inside a small parlor room, lit only by a small fireplace and set with a few squashy armchairs. The moon was barely more than a sliver in the sky, reflecting on the windows and the face of a grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Fudge instructed Hari to take a seat, pulling his green cape off his shoulders and hanging it up on a coat rack. Hari sank down in one of the chairs by the fire, legs shaking.

Fudge sat down in the seat across from Hari, smiling politely and crossing his legs. Hari returned the smile weakly, keeping his eyes on the wooden floorboards. “I am Cornelius Fudge, Hari,” said Fudge.

“I know,” said Hari automatically. “I’ve seen you in the papers loads of times.”

Fudge sniffed, eyeing Hari for a moment before nodding. “No need to look so tense, Hari. Your aunt has been punctured and her memory modified. No harm done, as they say,” said Fudge dismissively. He turned and began pouring tea out of a teapot at his side. “Tea, Hari?”

“Aye, uh, yes please,” Hari muttered. Fudge poured the tea into both of the cups and passed one to Hari. He took it gratefully, letting the boiling water warm his hands as he cupped it in his hands, blowing on the steam. “What do you mean by ‘No harm done’, Minister? I’ve broken the law.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to accidentally use magic while underage, Hari,” said Fudge, waving his hand. “You’ve had us all in a right bit of a flap trying to find you, mind. But all that matters is that you’re safe, now.”

“So, I’m not going to be arrested? Or expelled?”

Fudge choked on his tea. “Of course not! Accidents happen, dear boy, accidents happen!”

Hari frowned and put his tea to the side. “But last year I was sent a formal warning from the Ministry because a house elf used a Levitating charm. It said I would be expelled if I did it again and now I’ve done exactly that and it suddenly doesn’t matter?” he said, sitting up. “I’m sorry, Minister, but when I actually do it, suddenly it’s fine, but if someone else does it, then it’s a problem?”

Fudge looked uncomfortable at Hari’s comments, shifting in his seat and fixing his tie around his neck. “You don’t want to be expelled, do you?” asked Fudge, forcing an awkward laugh.

“Of course not.”

“Then why are you so worried? Times change, my boy! In times like these, we have to take certain things into consideration… your safety…”

“Because of Sirius Black?” Hari asked, tilting his head. He didn’t care that he was probably being impolite to the actual Minister of Magic.

Fudge got up from his seat. “Yes, yes,” he said faintly, avoiding Hari’s intense stare. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a silver pocket watch, clicking it open and checking the time. “I believe your guardian is arriving soon and then you can go, Hari. Better not run off again. Not the best time to wander...”

Hari stared at the Minister’s back as he turned and exited the room, leaving Hari very much alone in the parlor. He stared at the fire in the hearth, feeling very odd. Why was the Minister of Magic getting involved in something as trivial as underage magic? Why was he here to meet Hari after he ran away, instead of an Auror or someone else that worked in the ministry? It made no sense.

Before he could dwell on the matter further, the door opened once again. Hari was prepared to see either Tom or Fudge, but leapt up instead at the sight of Minerva. She half threw herself at him, almost knocking Hari into the fireplace as she yanked him into a hug. Hari wrapped his arms around her and tucked his face into her shoulder, relief flooding him by her simple presence and her gentle touch.

They stood there for a long time, embracing in front of the fireplace, emotional and literal warmth washing over him in Minerva’s arms. Eventually, Minerva pulled back, still gripping his shoulders. She looked both relieved and stern, her eyes piercing Hari as she stared at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by her shaking his shoulders and stepping away fully, dropping into the other seat.

“You are an utter fool, Hari Potter,” she said, shaking her head. Hari sat down in his seat again, watching her. “What were you thinking, running away like that? Did you even think of the consequences?”

“Sorry…” Hari muttered, feeling ashamed, guilt twisting in his gut. He fumbled with his hands in his lap, head hanging down. “I was so angry I didn’t think.”

“Well, that much is obvious.”

Hari sighed heavily, pushing his glasses up his forehead and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms. He suddenly felt much more tired, exhausted once again from the events of the evening. “I’m sorry, Minnie. I panicked because I thought they were going to arrest and expel me,” he admitted.

“Hari, they’re hardly going to arrest someone for accidental underage magic,” Minerva said softly, reaching across and tilting his chin up so he looked up at her. “You had us all worried sick when we heard you ran away and could have gone anywhere. I understand that you panicked, but you can’t just go running off like that, especially with people like Sirius Black out there.”

Hari nodded, shutting his eyes for a moment. Minerva sighed and picked up Hari’s bag from the floor and moved towards the door. “Come on. You look dead on your feet and I suspect you’ll want to go home after all this, yes?” she said, holding out her hand. Hari smiled sadly and walked over, taking Minerva’s hand and following her out. They walked back down the corridor and through the bar and Minerva said, “Thank you, Tom. We’ll be going now.”

The Minister of Magic was still standing with his bowler hat. “I shall say good bye then. Good day, Minerva, Hari,” he said, tipping his hat and putting it back on his head before exiting the bar.

Minerva guided Hari outside once Fudge was gone and then Apparated them back up to Scotland. They crossed the small field outside the house, which materialised as they drew near, then she opened the gate and they walked up to Nivelles Cottage. Harry pulled off his shoes once they stepped inside and dropped his bag on the floor, wandering into the living room with Minerva and dropping onto one of the couches.

Taking his glasses off and putting them on the coffee table, Hari heard Minerva moving around near the fireplace. Eyes closed, he could see light emanating from the fireplace and felt the warmth of the fire on his skin. “Remus Lupin’s house,” said Minerva’s voice clearly. A moment later, he heard her saying, “Remus, I’ve got him now. Fudge found him at the Leaky Cauldron. Tell Albus I’ve got him because I cannot be bothered with contacting him right now.”

¤¤¤

Hari didn’t notice that he had fallen asleep, sprawled on the couch with his face pressed into the cushions, until he woke a little while later with a crick in his neck. Groaning and stretching his neck, he sat up and found a blanket draped over him. He fumbled around the coffee table for his glasses and put them on, getting off the couch and moving into the hall at the bottom of the stairs. He could see a light coming from under the kitchen door and heard voices whispering under their breaths.

Slowly, Hari walked down the hallway and pressed his ear against the door.

“...if Fudge hadn’t found him…” Minerva was saying, sounding distressed.

“I know, Minerva. I don’t want to think about it either,” said Remus’ voice. “I blame those Dursleys. He wouldn’t have done something so impulsive otherwise.”

“Precisely. They’re some of my least favourite people on the planet. Which is saying something.”

“Fudge tried to suggest that it was somehow my fault. As if I’m not a million times more worried about Hari than that incompetent Minister of Magic.”

“Are you going to tell Hari about Sirius?”

Minerva sighed heavily and Hari pressed his ear harder against the door. Tell Hari what about Sirius? “I feel I’m going to have to. We can’t have a repeat of tonight and I think it’s better for him to know the truth,” she replied. “Of course, Albus and Cornelius both believe I should hide it from him, but you know how he is, Remus…”

Figuring he was as likely to hear what on earth they were on about by going upstairs, Hari finally opened the door to the kitchen and stepped inside. Minerva and Remus were both sitting at the dining table with cups of half-finished tea in front of them, looking incredibly worried. They looked up at Hari’s arrival and Remus stood so fast his chair nearly toppled.

“Sorry, was I interrupt—?” Hari began before Remus strided swiftly across the room.

All the air was forced out of him in a grunt as Remus hugged him in a death grip. Hari tried to hug back as he struggled to breath slightly, taking a gulp of air when Remus finally let go. “Don’t start acting like your father so much, Hari. You’re going to send me to an early grave,” Remus said, ruffling his hair and laughing breathlessly.

“Did we wake you?” Minerva asked as Hari and Remus both sat down at the table.

Hari shook his head, swiping Remus’ tea out of his hands and stealing a sip. It was lukewarm and stronger than he preferred, but whatever herb was in it made Hari feel instantly better. He definitely got Remus’ tea obsession. “No. Was I asleep long?”

“About an hour.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Hari asked, passing Remus his tea again.

Remus and Minerva shared a look Hari couldn’t read, apparently having a silent conversation just making eye contact. They were going to be maddening at Hogwarts, weren’t they? Remus cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea. “We were talking about Sirius Black, mainly,” he replied, watching Minerva out of the corner of his eye.

“Why? I know he did some horrible things and Stan Shunpike, the Knight Bus conductor, said he was a supporter of Voldemort, but what does it have to do with me?” Hari asked, looking between the two adults. He was tired of being dismissed or having the topic skirted around and ignored by adults. He wanted to know the truth.

“Hari, the Ministry doesn't want you to know this, but I feel it is my duty to tell you…” Minerva leaned across the table, taking a deep breath. “Sirius Black did not just escape from Azkaban for no reason. We have reason to believe that he broke out specifically to go after you, Hari…”

“How… how do you know?” asked Hari, desperate to know all the details.

“Apparently he was heard muttering in his cell at Azkaban shortly before his escape: ‘He’s at Hogwarts… He’s at Hogwarts,’” explained Remus seriously. “Black was one of Voldemort’s biggest supporters and after you caused his downfall, he lost everything. It is incredibly likely that he broke out to finish the job Voldemort started, perhaps hoping it will bring him back or at least avenge him.”

“I know you don’t want to hear this, Hari, but you have to know,” said Minerva, reaching across the table to squeeze Hari’s hands. He didn’t say anything in reply, only bobbing his head faintly as he tried to process everything they just said.

Hari pulled away from Minerva’s grip and stood up. “I’m going to go to bed, now,” he announced. “If that’s alright.”

Minerva nodded hurriedly. “Of course. You definitely need sleep after tonight,” she replied. “Try not to worry, Hari. You’re safe here.”

Hari forced a small smile and nodded, opening the door to the kitchen. “Good night,” he said over his shoulder, glancing at Remus and Minerva in turn and then making his way quickly up the stairs.

He shut his bedroom door and collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling as a crow cawed somewhere outside his window.

So Sirius Black broke out of prison to go after him. That made sense. It explained why Fudge had been so lenient about him breaking the law and why everyone was so relieved to see him alive. Hari felt strangely calm after hearing the news that there was a convicted mass murderer on the loose, after him. He was certainly shocked by the news, but he felt strangely unperturbed by it. Perhaps that came with growing up with another mass murderer that wanted him dead.

In the grand scheme of things, Sirius Black was simply just another murderer to add to his collection.