The Knight bus
Right. Harry thought. As if it couldn't get bad enough already!
First,
He blows up his aunt, She deserved what she got. And he finally ran away!
He was wondering why he didn't before tho. As if it wasn't screaming to him that Ron was a good friend. He was always super jealous, it was annoying.
“shut up! He's you best friend! He's perfect! You're a freak!“
His head screamed if he even thought about Ron being a sliver of bad.
It was cold outside. He didn’t have a jacket with him, the only reason he even had one was because the Dursleys didn’t want to look bad to the other people who lived nearby.
He sighed, his breath coming foggy out of his mouth.
He shivered, what was he to do now? Just as he was going through his really slim options, a loud BANG Made him fall to the ground, lucky enough to fall on the grass instead of the walkway.
A large triple-decker, purple bus stood before him. Harry grunted, the bright light somehow blinding him more than he already was.
“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve-” The conductor, shunpike stopped abruptly. Harry quickly got on his feet. The conductor mustn't be lots older than he was.
“What were you doin’ down there?” Asked Stan, his professional manner dropped.
“Fell over.” He stated boredly, as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.
“Choo fell over for?” Sniggered Stan.
“I didn't do it on purpose.” He retorts to Stan, annoyed.
He looked down at his hand and saw blood streaming down it, he didn't wince. Wincing wasn't acceptable. Well, that's what the Dursleys said anyway.
He turned around quickly and stared at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus’s headlamps were flooding it with light, it was empty.
“Choo lookin’ at?” Asked Stan.
“There was a big black thing.” He mumbled loudly enough for Stan to hear, pointing at the gap. “There was a dog, but massive…” He trailed off. Harry saw Stan's eyes move to the scar on Harry's forehead.
“Woss that on your 'ead?" said Stan abruptly.
"Nothing.” He retorted, glaring daggers at him, flattening his hair over his scar.
"Woss your name?" Stan persisted.
"Regulus." Answered Harry, remembering that one Astronomy lesson. "So -- so this bus," he went on, hoping to distract Stan, "did you say it goes anywhere?" He continued.
"Yep," said Stan proudly, "anywhere you like, long's it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. 'Ere," he said, looking suspicious again,You did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand 'and, dincha?"
Harry swallowed, "Yes," He said quickly. "Listen, how much would it be to get to London?"
"Eleven Sickles," said Stan, "but for fifteen you get 'or chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice." He said rather proudly.
Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag, and shoved some gold into Stan's hand. He and Stan then lifted his trunk with Hedwig's cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus.
As weird as it was, there were no seats. Instead, half a dozen bedsteads stood beside the windows. Candles were burning beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs" and rolled over in his sleep. Harry raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
"You 'ave this one," Stan whispered, shoving Harry's trunk under the bed right behind the driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. "This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This, is Regulus, Ern."
Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing glasses, nodded to Harry, who (tried to) flattened his bangs again and sat down on his bed with a sigh.
"Take 'er away, Ern," said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie's.
There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry found himself on his back on his bed, thrown backward by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling himself up, Harry looked out of the dark window and saw that they were now in a completely different street. Stan was watching Harry's amused face weirdly, as if expecting something more.
"This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"
"Ar," said Ernie, which in turn got him an eyebrow raise from Harry.
"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," said Ern. "We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute.”
Stan passed Harry's bed and disappeared up a wooden staircase. Harry was still looking out of the window with a bored expression. Ernie didn't seem to have mastered the use of a steering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn't hit anything, lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cans jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed. He wondered how to do that, but he figured he could just learn it from a book or something.
Stan came back downstairs, followed by a green witch wrapped in a traveling cloak.
"'Ere you go, Madam Marsh," said Stan rather happily as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of the bus. Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and dissapeared down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her and rammed the doors shut, there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a country lane, trees leaping out of the way.
Harry wouldn't have been able to sleep even if he had been traveling on a bus that didn't keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time. His stomach flipped as he fell back to wondering what was going to happen to him, and whether the Dursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet.
Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a gaunt looking man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. He looked strangely familiar. He would’ve said from the Muggle news, but it wasn’t from the Muggle news that he had felt familiar from, there was something about that man that felt familiar, he just couldn’t put his finger on it.
“He looks familiar..” He said with narrow eyes, looking at the page.
Stan turned to the front page and chuckled.
“Sirius Black,” He said. “May ‘ve seen ‘im on the muggle news.”
At Harry's puzzled look, he ripped off the front page and handed it to him.
“You oughta read the papers more, Regulus.”
Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and read.
BLACK STILL AT LARGE
Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.
Harry frowned as he read the start of the article, an escapee? Couldn't they have used a simple spell to track him? You would've thought they'd put a tracker on their prisoners.
“We are doing all we can to recapture Black.” Said the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning. “And we beg the Magical Community to remain calm.”
Harry snorted, remain calm about an escaped convict fron Azkaban? The most secure prison? Yeah right.
Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.
Harry raised his brow, criticized? So the Muggle community has to be in the dark? Frankly, he didn't actually care. But Muggles dying by an escaped convict- No. Something in him told him the prisoner was innocent. How he knew that was a completely different story. He didn't know why, he just felt it in his gut.
“Well, really, i had to, don't you know?” Said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He's dangerous to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it-who’d believe him if he did?”
He's not dangerous. His brain supplies helpfully, reminding him that he had no idea how he knew that. He’s not mad. His brain continues. Gee thanks brain. He thinks, annoyed.
While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (A kind of metal Wand that Muggles use to kill each other) The magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.
Though Harry thought that was a amusingly inaccurate description of a gun, he ignored it after a while and focused his attention on the massacre.
A single curse? Twelve- Thirteen people? He was confused by his change of twelve, his brain still lacking the functionality at that moment.
He shook his head and looked at the picture.
"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" said Stan, who had been watching Harry read the paper.
Harry snorted, scary? “Scary?” He said with a laugh.
Stan looked at him weirdly and moved on.
Stan moved in his arm chair, his hands on the back to take a better look at Harry.
“Black woz a big supporter of You-know-’Oo.” Stan eventually says.
“Voldy?” Said Harry, without thinking.
Stan turned a bit white at the mention of the nickname and Ern jerked the steering wheel a bit.
“Choo use a nickname for?” Stan asked after recovering a bit.
Harry wasn't sorry at all.
“So Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?” Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, not convinced in the slightest.
“Yeah.” Said Stan. “Very close to You-Know-Who, they say. When ‘Arry Potter got the better of You-know-’Oo-”
Harry looked at him, not-so-patiently waiting.
“All You-Know-'Oo’s supporters was tracked down.” He said.
“Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard he thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.” Stan continued.
Harry grimaced at the though of Black as second-in-command. It didn’t make sense for some reason. His brain wasn’t really helpful either.
"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full of Muggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got in the way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stan whispered, way too close for comfort.
Harry backed away, “What?” He asked impatiently.
"Laughed," said Stan. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, I 'e went wiv em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad.”
Harry grimaced, it felt wrong.
"An' now 'e's out," said Stan, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh?”
“Harry shivered at the though of those ‘Azkaban Guards.’
Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and Harry leaned against the window of the Knight Bus. He tried to imagine those ‘Azkaban guards,’ but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only last year. Harry wouldn't soon forget the look of terror on Hagrid's face when he had been told where he was going, and Hagrid was one of the bravest people Harry knew. Everyone spoke of it in a fearful tone, but he couldn’t imagine him landing in Azkaban for blowing up his aunt.
Harry was laying comfortably on his bed, thousands of thousands of thoughts going through his mind, most calling him a Freak.
One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all looked very pleased to step off the bus.
And finally, it was Harry’s turn to go.
“Ay, Regulus, where abouts in London?” Asked Stan.
"Diagon Alley," said Harry.
"Righto," said Stan. "'Old tight, then.”
Harry jumped at a loud BANG, He cleared his throat, wiping some dust off of his clothes.
Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and shabby looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which was the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.
Harry bid them farewell, and jumped off of the Bus, righting himself when almost fell.
He began walking, but jumped a bit.
"There you are, Harry," said a voice.
Harry turned around, startled by the voice, lucky that the Knight Bus was already on it’s way.. Wherever it was going.
Harry stared at the Minister of Magic himself, amused even by the circumstances.
Fudge, looked cold and exhausted. He probably hadn’t slept in a few days, weeks even.
Fudge increased the pressure on Harry's shoulder, and Harry found himself being pushed inside the shabby pub, Tom the landlord appearing.
"I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic.” Fudge said proudly.
Harry raised hies eyebrow, wanting to say something like: ‘I’m not stupid Minister.’ But kept his mouth shut.
"Well, Harry," said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think... But you're safe, and that's what matters." He stated.
Fudge grabbed a crumpet and shoved the plate to Harry, who just stared at the Minister.
Fudge caught his stare and continued."Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" Said Fudge. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays." Fudge continued.
Harry raised his eyebrow.
"I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays,” He eventually says. “And i will never go back to them.” He says bitterly.
Fudge stared at him, puzzled.
"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down," said Fudge in a worried tone. "They are your family, after all, and I'm sure you are fond of each other -- er -- very deep down." He continued slowly.
Harry looked at him, unimpressed.
"So all that remains," said Fudge, now grabbing himself a second crumpet, "is to decide where you're going to spend the last two weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and spend your time in Diagon Alley.” Fudge continues.
This didn't tally at all with Harry's past dealings with the Ministry of Magic.
Harry wanted to burst out laughing, but overpowered it with anger.
"Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house!" he told Fudge. "The Ministry of Magic said I'd be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!"
Fudge was suddenly looking awkward.
"Circumstances change, Harry... We have to take into account... In the present climate... Surely you don't want to be expelled?" Fudge told him akwardly.
Harry looked at him.
"Of course I don't!" Harry told him, unimpressed.
"Well then, what's the fuss about?" Fudge told him akwardly. "Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom's got a room for you." He speedran out of the room, leaving an heavily unimpressed Harry in his seat.
Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper.
"Room eleven's free, Harry," Said Fudge hurriedly. "I think you'll be very comfortable. just one thing, and I'm sure you'll understand... I don't want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keep to Diagon Alley. And you're to be back here before dark each night. Sure you'll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me." Fudge stated, grabbing his cloak and hurrying out.
"If you'll follow me, Mr. Potter," he said, "I've already taken your things up..."
Harry followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a door with a number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him. Inside was a very comfortable looking bed, some oak furniture, a crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe - "Hedwig!" Harry burst out excitedly.
Hedwig jumped down onto his arm and nipped his fingers happily.
“I’ll be off Mister Potter.” Tom said, walking out of the room.
Harry watched him close the door, staring at the door before laying down on his bed.
“Ya know Hedwig, i think i’ll have a good time here. I can feel it.” He says, stroking her feathers.
He eventually fell asleep, Hedwig massaging his hair.