“Isn't that the bus you mentioned earlier?” Hermione asked. He nodded.
“Well, looks like I somehow figure out how to get it,” Harry said.
“It's not that hard,” Cedric said. “All you have to do is stick out your wand hand out.”
Harry was several streets away before he collapsed onto a low wall in Magnolia Crescent, panting from the effort of dragging his trunk. He sat quite still, anger still surging through him, listening to the frantic thumping of his heart.
“That should give me time to calm down,” Harry said.
“Only for a new emotion to take over,” Hermione said, knowing that he's realized what he'd just done.
But after ten minutes alone in the dark street, a new emotion overtook him: panic.
“Told you,” Hermione said.
Whichever way he looked at it, he had never been in a worse fix. He was stranded, quite alone, in the dark Muggle world, with absolutely nowhere to go. And the worst of it was, he had just done serious magic, which meant that he was almost certainly expelled from Hogwarts.
“You didn't use your wand, therefore you are not expelled,” Cedric said. “Plus, since it's you, I have the feeling that they wouldn't have you expelled anyway. Not saying you should test that, though.”
He had broken the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry so badly, he was surprised Ministry of Magic representatives weren’t swooping down on him where he sat.
“Unless you've got tracking spells on you, they kind of can't,” Cedric said. “They might be able to tell where magic is performed when it's accidental, but once you left there, they had no way of finding you.”
“Of course, considering where it is, chances are that they already have an idea of who it was that did it,” Hermione said.
Harry shivered and looked up and down Magnolia Crescent. What was going to happen to him? Would he be arrested, or would he simply be outlawed from the wizarding world?
“You know, sometimes, when your panicking, your thoughts are rather funny,” Luna said. “Especially when it comes to something like this, since you forget all about the fact that your famous, and, therefore, it's very unlikely that you'll be arrested or outlawed.”
“Glad I amuse you,” Harry said, a bit sarcastically.
He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his heart sank even lower. Harry was sure that, criminal or not, Ron and Hermione would want to help him now, but they were both abroad, and with Hedwig gone, he had no means of contacting them.
“Plus, chances are, we wouldn't get to you any time soon, either,” Hermione said.
He didn’t have any Muggle money, either. There was a little wizard gold in the moneybag at the bottom of his trunk, but the rest of the fortune his parents had left him was stored in a vault at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in London. He’d never be able to drag his trunk all the way to London. Unless …
“I wonder what your plan is going to be like,” Luna said.
He looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. If he was already expelled (his heart was now thumping painfully fast), a bit more magic couldn’t hurt.
“No, that's not the best idea to do,” Cedric said. “That would probably really get you expelled.”
He had the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father – what if he bewitched the trunk to make it feather-light, tied it to his broomstick, covered himself in the Cloak and flew to London?
“Not too bad,” Hermione said. “Though, I think shrinking the trunk would be better to making it feather-light; or, rather, you should do both, that way you can just put them into your pocket.”
“It would be better,” Cedric said, agreeing.
Then he could get the rest of his money out of his vault and ... begin his life as an outcast. It was a horrible prospect, but he couldn’t sit on this wall for ever or he’d find himself trying to explain to Muggle police why he was out in the dead of night with a trunkful of spellbooks and a broomstick.
“Yeah, I don't think that would be a good prospect,” Hermione said. “Unless you wanted to go to the looney bin.”
Harry opened his trunk again and pushed the contents aside, looking for the Invisibility Cloak – but before he had found it, he straightened up suddenly, looking around him once more.
A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel he was being watched, but the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses.
“Your probably being watched, then,” Luna said. “You do tend to be right when it come to your surroundings, after all.”
“The question is, what's watching me,” Harry said.
“You don't think it...” Hermione began.
“Hopefully not,” Harry said, shivering.
“Why would that Black person be watching Harry?” Cedric said.
“Don't know. We're just considering the possibility that it's him,” Hermione said.
He bent over his trunk again, but almost immediately stood up once more, his hand clenched on his wand. He had sensed rather than heard it: someone or something was standing in the narrow gap between the garage and the fence behind him. Harry squinted at the black alleyway. If only it would move, then he’d know whether it was just a stray cat or – something else.
“It probably won't move unless your not looking at it,” Hermione said.
“You need some light,” Cedric said.
“Lumos,” Harry muttered,
“I don't think that'll get you in trouble,” Cedric said. “I mean, I think the Light spell is one of the few that's allowed to be done in a Muggle area without problems. I think it's because it's easy to pretend that it's something Muggle.”
and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him. He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled; the garage door gleamed, and between them, Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes.
“An animal,” Hermione said. “Well, I can say right now, it's probably not a cat.”
“Probably a dog, then,” Harry said. “That would be the only other animal I can think of that would be in a residential area.”
“Either way, it will probably surprise you to see it,” Luna said. “After all, your expecting it to be something small.”
Harry stepped backwards. His legs hit his trunk and he tripped. His wand flew out of his hand as he flung out an arm to break his fall, and he landed, hard, in the gutter.
“So that's how you end up summoning it,” Cedric said. “I was wondering how, since you wouldn't actually know, and would have to do it accidentally.”
There was a deafening BANG
“I wonder how many people heard that,” Harry said.
“I doubt anyone non-magical did,” Cedric said. “The bus is charmed so that Muggles don't see or hear it.”
and Harry threw up his hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light …
“I suggest you move, and do so quickly,” Cedric said.
With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights had screeched to a halt exactly where Harry had just been lying.
“Okay, that's scary,” Harry said.
They belonged, as Harry saw when he raised his head, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windscreen spelled The Knight Bus.
Harry's and Hermione's eyebrows raised at the description.
“Sounds... interesting,” Hermione said.
For a split second, Harry wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall.
“I think I would, too,” Hermione said.
Then a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.
“And that right there would tell me that I'm not imagining anything,” Harry said.
“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—“
“I think he just realized that your still on the ground,” Cedric said.
“Great. He's probably going to think I'm stupid,” Harry said.
“Well, it's not like you did it on purpose,” Hermione said.
“He's still probably going to think that,” Luna said.
The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on the ground.
“I guess I don't realize that I never got up,” Harry said. “I must have been stunned silly.”
Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close to, he saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was; eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and a fair few pimples.
“He might be a little older,” Cedric said. “Unless he didn't go to Hogwarts, of course. He would have still been in school when you first entered if he was either of those ages. Plus, I don't think I've ever heard the surname Shunpike, but then again, I don't know everyone at the school, unless they're in Hufflepuff, and that's because Hufflepuffs tend to make sure everyone is known.”
“What were you doin’ down there?” said Stan, dropping his professional manner.
“Fell over,” said Harry.
“ ’Choo fall over for?” sniggered Stan.
“Because it sounded fun to do,” Harry said sarcastically.
“I didn’t do it on purpose,” said Harry, annoyed. One of the knees in his jeans was torn, and the hand he had thrown out to break his fall was bleeding. He suddenly remembered why he had fallen over, and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus’s headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty.
“The bus probably scared whatever it was,” Cedric said.
“ ’Choo lookin’ at?” said Stan.
“Just something,” Harry said.
“There was a big black thing,” said Harry, pointing uncertainly into the gap. “Like a dog ... but massive ...”
He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan’s eyes move to the scar on Harry’s forehead.
“Uh-oh,” Harry said. “I'm not going to want to be recognized.”
“I wonder if there's something we can do to hide your scar better,” Luna said.
“If magical means can't do it, maybe something Muggle could,” Hermione said.
“Woss that on your ’ead?” said Stan abruptly.
“Hopefully, he can't see it very well,” Harry said.
“Nothing,” said Harry quickly, flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for him, he didn’t want to make it too easy for them.
“Woss your name?” Stan persisted.
“Yeah, he definitely didn't see it very well,” Harry said, looking relieved.
“Anyone who saw it would know exactly who you are,” Cedric said.
“Neville Longbottom,” said Harry,
Hermione looked at him.
“Hi, Neville, it's nice to meet you,” she said, sticking out her hand. “I have to wonder, though, if that's your name, why have you been going around answering to the other name?”
“I think you know that I'm lying to him,” Harry said.
“I know. I'm just poking fun at you,” Hermione said.
saying the first name that came into his head.
“Which makes me wonder why that ones the first one that comes into your head,” Luna said. “I mean, while a friend, he's not as much of a friend as Hermione and Ron are.”
“Well, a part of me must've known that I couldn't use either name,” Harry said. “I mean, I think the immediate Weasley family is rather well known at the moment, plus they all seem to have red hair, while Hermione's a girl name, so it crossed their names off. Neville must've been the first person I thought of outside of my immediate friends.”
“So – so this bus,” he went on quickly, hoping to distract Stan, “did you say it goes anywhere?”
“That will probably work,” Hermione said. “Stan seems a bit of a simpleton, and easily distracted.”
“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?”
“Not on purpose, but since he needs transportation, I don't think he's going to be complaining or saying something otherwise,” Cedric said.
“I know I won't,” Harry said.
“Yes,” said Harry quickly. “Listen, how much would it be to get to London?”
“Eleven Sickles,” said Stan, “but for firteen you get ’ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an ’ot-water bottle an’ a toofbrush in the colour of your choice.”
“So, basically, you just need to pay a Galleon, and your fine,” Hermione said.
“Apparently. It would probably also get me all three of the options as well,” Harry said. “Though why I would need the hot-water bottle is beyond me.”
Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag and shoved some silver into Stan’s hand.
“I wonder how much I gave him,” Harry said.
He and Stan then lifted his trunk, with Hedwig’s cage balanced on top, up the steps of the bus.
There were no seats; instead, half-a-dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows.
“Well, it is night,” Cedric said.
“Are those beds bolted down?” Hermione asked. Cedric shrugged.
“No,” Luna said, having used the bus at night before.
Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-panelled 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.
“I really don't think I want to know,” Harry said, shaking his head.
“You ’ave this one,” Stan whispered, shoving Harry’s trunk under the bed right behind the driver,
“Wonder why I'm being given that one,” Harry said.
who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel.
“I guess he wants to be comfortable,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “I hope he still has a seatbelt.”
“This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbottom, Ern.”
Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Harry, who nervously flattened his fringe again and sat down on his bed.
“Take ’er away, Ern,” said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie’s.
“I take it normal seats are just too much trouble,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
There was another tremendous BANG, and next moment Harry found himself flat on his bed, thrown backwards by the speed of the Knight Bus.
“Exactly how fast are they going?” Harry said.
Pulling himself up, Harry stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching Harry’s stunned face with great enjoyment.
“This is where we was before you flagged us down,” he said. “Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?”
“Ar,” said Ernie.
“Is he a pirate?” Hermione asked. Harry sniggered.
“I don't think so,” Harry said.
“How come the Muggles don’t hear the bus?” said Harry.
“Special charms on it,” Luna said. “Otherwise, there'd be no way for it to be able to do some of the things it can without Muggles knowing.”
“Them!” said Stan contemptuously. “Don’ listen properly, do they? Don’ look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don’.”
Harry and Hermione both frowned. While Harry's experience with Muggles wasn't good, even he knew that not all Muggles were the same. Hermione's frown, however, had to do with the fact that this Stan had just basically insulted her family.
“I think he's just basically said that he has no clue on how they don't hear it,” Luna said, slightly cold, seeing as he'd just insulted Hermione's family and Harry's grandparents on his mother side.
“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 narrow wooden staircase. Harry was still looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous. 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 lamp posts, letter-boxes and bins jumped out of its way as it approached and back into position once it had passed.
“Exactly why don't they have someone who knows how to actually drive at the wheel?” Hermione asked. Cedric and Luna shrugged.
“I don't think many witches and wizards actually bother trying to learn,” Luna said.
Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a travelling cloak.
“I get the feeling she's not exactly happy with the bus's motions,” Harry said.
“ ’Ere you go, Madam Marsh,” said Stan happily, as Ern stamped on the brake and the beds slid a foot or so towards the front of the bus.
“And they don't have those things bolted down, why?” Hermione asked. Again, Luna and Cedric shrugged.
“Probably just don't think about it,” Cedric said.
Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her
“How nice. I hope there wasn't anything breakable,” Harry said.
and rammed the doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and they were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way.
Harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep even if he had been travelling on a bus that didn’t keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time.
“I think I would agree on the sleeping comment. How that one wizard was able to do so is a question I'd love to know,” Hermione said.
“If they're chronic users of the bus, I can see how it's possible,” Luna said.
His stomach churned 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.
“I have the feeling that, unfortunately, members of the Accidental Magic Squad would have fixed the problem by now,” Luna said.
Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.
“He sounds familiar,” Hermione said. Cedric's eyes widened as he read the next sentence.
“That man!” Harry said, forgetting his troubles for a moment. “He was on the Muggle news!”
“So the escaped prisoner is a wizard,” Hermione said. She looked from Luna to Cedric, concern going through her as she noticed the fact that all the blood seemed to have drained from his face.
“Cedric,” she said.
“Impossible,” was his answer. His eyes were fixed on the book.
“Cedric,” Hermione repeated, leaning over, and touching his shoulder. He started.
“What's wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he said, only for her to raise an eyebrow at him.
“I read ahead a bit when it mentioned the man looking familiar, and having been on the Muggle news,” he explained. “And I know who it is.”
“I take it that, whoever it is, isn't someone good,” Harry said. Cedric shook his head, while Luna frowned, trying to figure out who it was. Unlike Cedric, who could remember things that happened during the last months of the war and immediately after, Luna had barely been born at the time, and, therefore, didn't have any memories of such occurances.
“Who is it?” Harry asked.
“Why don't we read about it in the book?” Hermione said, before Cedric could say anything. Harry nodded, realizing that it would be the best thing to do.
Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled.
“Sirius Black,” he said, nodding.
Luna's eyes widened, as that was a name she'd heard about.
“Hey, wasn't he mentioned in the first book as being the one who gave Hagrid the motorcycle in the first chapter?” Harry asked.
“I do believe so,” Hermione said. She reached for the first book, turning the pages until she got to the part of when Hagrid first came onto the scene in it, and read out " [b]'Young Sirius Black lent it to me.' "
“ ’Course ’e was on the Muggle news, Neville. Where you been?”
“I take it that he's rather dangerous, if even Stan believes that it's appropriate for him to be on the Muggle news,” Hermione said.
“Oh, he is,” Cedric said darkly. He didn't say anything else, knowing that it would come up on why at some point. In fact, he could see that it was going to do that on this very page.
He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry’s face,
“I don't think I like this Stan,” Hermione said.
removed the front page and handed it to Harry.
“I think I ought to begin getting the paper the first chance I get,” Harry said.
“You oughta read the papers more, Neville.”
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.
“He's considered infamous,” Hermione said. “He must be bad, then.”
“He is,” Cedric said again.
“We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”
“I don't think he'll be getting his wish,” Cedric said.
Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis.
“He had to,” Cedric said. “Considering what Black did to get into Azkaban in the first place, it would have been more dangerous if he didn't do so.”
“Well, really, I had to, don’t you know,” said an irritable Fudge. “Black is mad. He’s a danger 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?”
“Um, I think any Muggle who has a magical child would,” Hermione said, though her mind was more interested in processing the bit of information given about Black, and what Cedric had said as well.
While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which 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.
“He did what?!” Harry exclaimed.
“He murdered thirteen people, with a single curse?” Hermione said in disbelief. “No wonder he's considered infamous, and it's bad that he's out.”
“There's even more to it,” Cedric said.
Harry looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive.
Hermione shuddered.
Harry had never met a vampire, but he had seen pictures of them in his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, looked just like one.
“Is that what Azkaban does to a person?” Harry asked quietly, remembering the fact that Hagrid had been sent there in the previous book. While it didn't say how Hagrid was after returning, Harry had the feeling that he'd been affected by being there as well. The question he wondered was exactly how affected he had been.
“Scary-lookin’ fing, inee?” said Stan, who had been watching Harry read.
“He murdered thirteen people?” said Harry, handing the page back to Stan, “with one curse?”
“Apparently the information isn't only shocking to me,” Hermione said.
“Yep,” said Stan. “In front of witnesses an’ all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?”
“Why would he do that?” Harry asked.
“He was mad before he went to Azkaban,” Cedric said, not wanting to give away the fact that he was a supporter to Voldemort, since he could see that it was about to do so in the book. He'd let Harry and Hermione have any reaction that they would then, instead of having things repeated.
“Were the witnesses magical or Muggle?” Hermione asked.
“Muggle,” Cedric said.
“That's why it was big trouble,” Hermione muttered.
“Ar,” said Ern darkly.
Stan swivelled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the better to look at Harry.
“He must expect a big reaction with what he has to say next,” Hermione said.
“Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-’Oo,” he said.
“You mean they actually caught some of them,” Hermione said.
“Yes,” Cedric said.
“I was rather unsure, since we already know of at least one person who got off, plus you even mentioned it during the first book. For all I knew, all of them got off,” Hermione said.
“I can see how you would be left with that impression,” Cedric said. “And, in truth, I think the only reason Black didn't is because he was caught minutes after this happened, because of the fact that magic was done in front of Muggles.”
“I wonder how Stan is going to take the fact that Harry has no fear of saying his name,” Luna said.
“He'll probably startle them both because of that,” Hermione said.
“Well, I have to admit, now knowing that Voldemort's real name is Tom, and that he wants people afraid of saying it, well, it makes me want to say it, simply so I don't give him what he wants,” Cedric said. “Plus, with it being fake, I feel that we should either call him Tom or Riddle over his made up name.”
“True,” Hermione said.
“What, Voldemort?” said Harry, without thinking.
Even Stan’s pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid the bus.
“That really did surprise them,” Hermione said, laughing a bit since Stan ended up being the one to be scared. Served him right for his previous comments about Muggles, in her opinion.
“You outta your tree?” yelped Stan. “ ’Choo say ’is name for?”
“Because I, unlike you, am not afraid of a coward who not only fights unfairly, but hides behind a fake name,” Harry said.
“You know what? I just realized that there might be another reason for him choosing that name, other than it being an anagram of his real one,” Hermione said. “And it fits with what we can tell about him as well.”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked.
“Well, his made up name of Voldemort can be separated into three French words, Vol, de, and mort, which, when translated come up with several meanings, all of them pretty much having to do with flight and death, the most common of them being 'flight from death',” she said. “Add in that he obviously did something so that he didn't die, and I think it's safe to say that he's afraid of dying.”
“It does, doesn't it?” Luna said. “So, we know a bit more about him. Now, all we have to do is figure out what he, a half-blood, has problems with Muggles, Muggleborns, and other half-bloods, because I don't think him being Slytherin's heir has much to do with it.”
"Well, his problem with Muggles has already been explained in the previous book," Hermione said. "Remember, his father, who was Muggle, left his mother, and obviously wanted nothing to do with him."
“True. Perhaps the other reasons will come up at some point in these books,” Cedric said.
“Perhaps,” Hermione said.
“Sorry,” said Harry hastily. “Sorry, I – I forgot –“
“You should just stare at him and ask why you should be afraid of a dead man,” Hermione said, “even if he actually isn't dead. I doubt people are willing to believe that he's alive without proof of it, unless they already believed that he was still alive. And I don't think your word is enough for those people, either,” she added, seeing Harry about to open his mouth, and guessing that was what he was about to bring up.
“I probably don't want to make them uncomfortable,” Harry said. “Plus, I need to act like there's nothing strange about me.”
“True,” Hermione said. “Your slip-up will have them looking at you strangely, which is something you don't want right now.”
“I think you should quickly get everything back on track of what your talking about before he starts taking a bigger look at you,” Cedric said. “While I doubt many people know about your aversion to calling him You-Know-Who, there could be enough to have some rumors about it around.”
“Forgot!” said Stan weakly. “Blimey, my ’eart’s goin’ that fast ...”
“So – so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?” Harry prompted apologetically.
“That should do it,” Cedric said.
“Yeah,” said Stan, still rubbing his chest. “Yeah, that’s right. Very close to You-Know-’Oo, they say ...”
“Well, I have a feeling that other death eaters might be considered to hold that title as well, whether they actually do or not,” Hermione said. “So I don't think that can be trusted.”
“anyway, when little ’Arry Potter put paid to You-Know-’Oo” – Harry nervously flattened his fringe down again –
“You might want to not do that so often, and it could cause them to get suspicious as to why your doing it to begin with,” Cedric said.
“all You-Know-’Oo’s supporters was tracked down, wasn’t they, Ern? Most of ’em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-’Oo gone, and they came quiet.”
“Yeah, I don't think he can be considered to be a good fountain of information,” Hermione said. “Especially since not all of them were caught.”
“But not Sirius Black. I ’eard he thought ’e’d be second-in-command once You-Know-’Oo ’ad taken over.
“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 continued in a dramatic whisper.
“What?” said Harry.
“Laughed,” said Stan. “Jus’ stood there an’ laughed. An’ when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, ’e went wiv ’em quiet as anyfink, still laughing ’is ’ead off. ’Cos ’e’s mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?”
“He definitely sounds mad,” Hermione said. Harry nodded his head.
“If he weren’t when he went to Azkaban, he will be now,” said Ern in his slow voice. “I’d blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind ... after what he did ...”
“I didn't know that the prison could drive a person mad,” Hermione said, frowning.
“They ’ad a job coverin’ it up, din’ they, Ern?” Stan said. “ ’Ole street blown up an’ all them Muggles dead. What was it they said ’ad ’appened, Ern?”
“Gas explosion,” grunted Ernie.
“Do they often use excuses like that to explain mass deaths for the Muggle world?” Hermione asked.
“Yes,” Cedric said. "And, from what I know fo the crime scene, that excuse was not only a good one, but a logical one as well, since I do believe that there was a gas line that got hit."
“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, Ern?”
“Is that why you didn't think there was a chance that it was him when it was first mentioned, and why it surprised you to discover that he'd escaped?” Harry asked Cedric.
“Yeah,” Cedric said.
“Beats me ’ow ’e did it. Frightenin’, eh? Mind, I don’t fancy ’is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?”
Cedric suddenly shivered.
“They're going to be extremely angry, angrier than I suspect anyone has ever seen them,” Cedric said.
“Do you know what the guards are?” Hermione asked.
“I just know that there called Dementors, and that they seem to effect people rather badly,” Cedric said.
Ernie suddenly shivered.
“Talk about summat else, Stan, there’s a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles.”
Stan put the paper away reluctantly
“I think he love having an audience, though his way of speaking leave a lot to be desired,” Hermione said.
“I have to admit that I'm just glad that Stan will listen to Ernie, since it means that there's less of a chance of him paying a lot of attention to Harry,” Luna said. “I'm also glad that it looks like neither Stan nor Ernie actually know who Neville is, or the fact that, as a pure-blood, he'd most likely know about Sirius, even if there was a chance that he didn't know all the details.”
“Plus, there's the fact that, if he knew Neville, he'd know that there was no reason for Neville to know about Muggle news before knowing that Black is a prisoner of Azkaban,” Cedric said.
and Harry leant against the window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. He couldn’t help imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a few nights’ time.
“ ’Ear about that ’Arry Potter? Blew up ’is Aunt! We ’ad ’im ’ere on the Knight Bus, di’n’t we, Ern? ’E was tryin’ to run for it ...”
“You know, here's another reason to hate the Dursleys,” Hermione said. “Your so pessimistic, assuming the worse is going to happen.”
He, Harry, had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land him in Azkaban?
“No,” Cedric said.
Harry didn’t know anything about the wizard prison, though everyone he’d ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone. 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.
The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and bollards, telephone boxes and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Stan remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry’s pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesey to Aberdeen.
“Why bother getting hot chocolate if it's just going to be hard to have” Hermione said, rolling her eyes.
“I guess its to be nice,” Cedric said. “Though I can understand not wanting to bother getting it if you can't drink it.”
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 go.
“Well, between Stan's insesitivity and Ernie's inability to drive, I think I would be pleased to go as well,” Hermione said.
Finally, Harry was the only passenger left.
“I take it they go in order of first to get on,” Hermione said.
“Pretty much, unless a person has the same stop as someone else,” Cedric said.
“Right then, Neville,” said Stan, clapping his hands, “whereabouts in London?”
“Diagon Alley,” said Harry.
“Righto,” said Stan, “ ’old tight, then ...”
BANG!
They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up and watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus’s way.
“I don't think the road was meant for that bus,” Hermione said.
The sky was getting a little lighter. He would lie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment it opened, then set off – where, he didn’t know.
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 lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley.
“I guess that's as far as they can take me,” Harry said.
“Which means that Stan was wrong when he said that it could go anywhere that wasn't underwater,” Hermione said.
“Thanks,” Harry said to Ern.
He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the pavement.
“I wonder why he's being rather nice to me,” Harry said.
“Well,” said Harry, “ ’bye then!”
But Stan wasn’t paying attention. Still standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.
“There you are, Harry,” said a voice.
“Uh-oh,” Harry said. “I've been caught.”
“I wonder who caught you. It had to be someone important, since it caught Stan's attention quite well,” Hermione said.
Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted, “Blimey! Ern, come ’ere! Come ’ere!”
“Having you called Harry and whoever it is that's behind you there must mean, to Stan, that your important,” Cedric said.
Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach – he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic himself.
“Yep, I think he'd definitely get Stan's attention,” Hermione said, eyes wide.
“Since when does the Minister for Magic involve himself in cases of accidental magic?” Harry asked suspiciously.
“Never, as far as I know,” Cedric said.
Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them.
“What didja call Neville, Minister?” he said excitedly.
Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, looked cold and exhausted.
“Neville?” he repeated, frowning.
“I guess he's not that smart if he didn't realize that you wouldn't give your real name,” Hermione said, shaking her head.
“Well, it's not like he would know that, plus, in the wizarding world, hardly anyone sees the need not to introduce themselves by that actual names,” Cedric said.
“This is Harry Potter.”
“I knew it!” Stan shouted gleefully.
“He did not,” Harry said.
“Ern! Ern! Guess ’oo Neville is, Ern! ’E’s ’Arry Potter! I can see ’is scar!”
“Bloody scar's a menace,” Harry said. “I'm starting to hate it, and I haven't actually been on the receiving end of the attention my book self has. It's strange to think that I used to like it.”
“Well, you didn't know how you actually got it, plus you didn't know that everyone would be able to identify you by it and want to stare at it either,” Luna said.
“Yes,” said Fudge testily. “Well, I’m very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now ...”
“Rather obvious 'go away' from the Minister, isn't it?” Hermione said.
“Doubt Stan'll get the message,” Harry said. “You said it yourself, he's a bit of a simpleton. Plus, he'd probably want to stay so that he could 'get to know' both the 'boy-who-lived' and the Minister, so he can tell all of his passengers about it.”
“True,” Hermione said.
Fudge increased the pressure on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry found himself being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord.
“I like your description of him,” Luna said.
“You’ve got him, Minister!” said Tom.
“I wonder how he knew to go there,” Hermione said.
“Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?”
“Something I can have,” Harry said.
“Perhaps a pot of tea,” said Fudge, who still hadn’t let go of Harry.
There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ern appeared, carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage and looking around excitedly.
“I think they want a better look at you,” Hermione said. Harry groaned.
“ ’Ow come you di’n’t tell us ’oo you are, eh, Neville?” said Stan,
“Because I didn't want you to know,” Harry said. “And did he just call me Neville?”
“Yup,” Hermione said.
beaming at Harry, while Ernie’s owlish face peered interestedly over Stan’s shoulder.
“And a private parlour, please, Tom,” said Fudge pointedly.
“Yeah, really rather them not overhear anything,” Harry said.
“ ’Bye,” Harry said miserably to Stan and Ern, as Tom beckoned Fudge towards the passage that led from the bar.
“ ’Bye, Neville! called Stan.
“He's still calling me Neville,” Harry said. “Even knowing who I really am.”
“I don't think he's all that intelligent,” Hermione said.
“So, he's a simpleton, easily distracted, and not intelligent,” Harry said. “I don't think that's a good combination to have.”
“It's not,” Hermione said. “I wouldn't be surprised if he ended up getting into trouble later on because of it.”
Fudge marched Harry along the narrow passage after Tom’s lantern, and then into a small parlour. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room.
“Sit down, Harry” said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.
“I wonder how he's acting,” Harry said. “I mean, is he being extremely nice, is he not so nice, what?”
“I think the only way to know that is to actually be there,” Hermione said.
Harry sat down, feeling goosebumps rising up his arms despite the glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry.
“I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister for Magic.”
Harry already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge once before, but as he had been wearing his father’s Invisibility Cloak at the time, Fudge wasn’t to know that.
“Not that he could really do anything about it. The cloak is a family heirloom; the laws make it so that it can't be taken from you,” Cedric said.
Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry, and left the parlour, closing the door behind him.
“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.”
“Okay, I get the feeling there's something I'm missing here,” Harry said.
“You're not the only one,” Hermione said, thinking.
“They could think Sirius Black is after you,” Luna said. “That's why Fudge is there, and why your 'disappearance' worried them. They could have thought that Black had managed to grab you.”
“Fudge probably has another reason to be there, though,” Hermione said. “After all, one would think the the Minister for Magic would have better things to do than personally see to Harry.”
“Ah, but remember, it's Harry Potter, boy-who-lived. Fudge wouldn't want to let anything happen to him, especially because he's infinitely more popular that Fudge himself is. If anything happens to Harry, people are going to go after Fudge, and they'll want blood,” Cedric said.
Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate towards Harry.
“Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet. Now then ... You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley.”
“Not really,” Harry said. “I stand by what my book self said at the end of the previous chapter. She got what she deserved.”
“I agree,” the other three said.
“Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified.”
“So chances are, the next time she visits, she'll be spouting off the same stuff again,” Harry said, shaking his head.
“I have the feeling that it'll probably be quite a while before you see her again,” Hermione said. “I doubt the Dursleys would want her to visit again while you have to be there, since, if you did that once, they might think you'd do it again.”
“She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that’s that, and no harm done.”
“Except for the harm she caused spouting off about my parents as she was,” Harry said, sounding a bit bitter.
Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favourite nephew. Harry, who couldn’t believe his ears, opened his mouth to speak, couldn’t think of anything to say, and closed it again.
“Perhaps you should tell him that you would have been happier having her remember the event, simply so that she would think twice before talking bad about your parents,” Luna said.
“Ah, you’re worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?” said Fudge.
“Well, a bit, unless I can go somewhere other than there,” Harry said.
“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.”
“So far, I've always stayed at Hogwarts for both, and and I would be happy to never go back there,” Harry said.
“I have the feeling that the only way your not being sent back to them is if they weren't there to be sent to,” Hermione said.
Harry unstuck his throat.
“I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays,” he said, “and I don’t ever want to go back to Privet Drive.”
“Now, now, I’m sure you’ll feel differently once you’ve calmed down,” said Fudge in a worried tone.
“I wonder if he really wants you there, or if Dumbledore has told him that there was no moving you,” Luna said.
“I have to wonder if he's not worried about the possibility that you might end up doing the same thing later on,” Hermione said.
"My guess, is if it's the fact that Dumbledore told him that there was no moving you, he probably wanted to 'suggest' that you go live with a family of his chosing," Cedric said.
"He'd probably chose the Malfoys," Harry said.
"Most likely," Cedric said.
"Which would make sense of Dumbledore not letting me leave the Dursleys," Harry said.
“They are your family, after all, and I’m sure you are fond of each other – er – very deep down.”
“I have the feeling that the members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad learned first hand of your relatives despise of magic,” Hermione said.
It didn’t occur to Harry to put Fudge right. He was still waiting to hear what was going to happen to him now.
“I'm awaiting my punishment, because no ones really bothered to tell me much about the wizarding world, in the books so far,” Harry said. “I only learn things when need be, and I don't seem to be learning about things that don't come up in some way.”
“I wonder why Dumbledore hasn't sat you down and explained anything to you,” Cedric said.
“If I didn't know better, I'd say that he was purposely keeping you ignorant of things,” Hermione said. “Actually, I don't know better, so he's probably doing that.”
“But what purpose does it hold?” Harry asked.
“No idea,” Hermione said. “I'm not Dumbledore, and, therefore, don't know what's going on in his head.”
“So all that remains,” said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, “is to decide where you’re going to spend the last three weeks of your holidays.”
“He's not sending me back?” Harry said.
“I think it was clear when he mentioned that they would take you back the next summer,” Hermione said, smiling at him.
“I guess it didn't penetrate my mind quite yet,” he said.
“You're Dursley free for the rest of the summer,” Hermione said.
“I suggest you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron and –“
“Hang on,” blurted Harry, “what about my punishment?”
“I think you are the only person who would willingly ask for a punishment,” Cedric said.
Fudge blinked.
“Punishment?”
“I broke the law!” Harry said. “The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!”
“Harry, unless you used your wand, magic like what you did doesn't count towards the Restriction,” Cedric said. “As for how you ended up being warned in the previous book, it's probably because Dobby masked his magic as your wand signature, since, more often than not, Elf magic is completely untraceable, unless they want it to be traced.”
“Which Dobby did,” Harry said. “Do you think he suspected what my relatives did? I mean, why else would he do magic if I wouldn't get in trouble by them.”
“Well, he probably was watching, to make sure you didn't get any letters. He probably saw how you had fun with them, and noticed their fear of magic, giving him the idea that they didn't know that you hadn't told them about your restrictions of using magic during summer,” Hermione said. “And he probably noticed that you would get punished. I just don't think he knew to the extreme they did it; he probably thought they'd just deny allowing you do go, with you having no way of getting yourself there.”
“Oh, my dear boy, we’re not going to punish you for a little thing like that!” cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. “It was an accident! We don’t send people to Azkaban just for blowing up their aunts!”
“That's probably true, if it's done on purpose,” Cedric said. “You'd probably get a fine if you did it on purpose.”
But this didn’t tally at all with Harry’s past dealings with the Ministry of Magic.
“I think this is where knowing more about the wizarding world would be very helpful,” Harry said.
“Last year, I got an official warning just because a house-elf smashed a pudding in my uncle’s house!” said Harry, frowning. “The Ministry of Magic said I’d be expelled from Hogwarts if there was any more magic there!”
Unless Harry’s eyes were deceiving him, Fudge was suddenly looking awkward.
“They know it was a mistake, plus, again, at this point in time, with you being who you are, there's no way they would seriously expel you,” Hermione said. “Also, why would you bring it up?”
“I don't know,” Harry said.
"Circumstances change, Harry ...”
“You know, that make it sound as if I would have been expelled,” Harry said.
“You wouldn't have, because, in a normal case, accidental magic can't be punished. Unless that rule has changed,” Cedric said.
“we have to take into account ... in the present climate ...”
“Sirius Black,” Harry said. “That's what making him be more lenient, and not get on my case. It's because Black escaped.”
“surely you don’t want to be expelled?”
“Of course not,” Harry said.
“Of course I don’t,” said Harry.
“Well then, what’s all the fuss about?” laughed Fudge airily. “Now, have a crumpet, Harry, while I go and see if Tom’s got a room for you.”
“I can't imagine him not having one,” Cedric said. “Most people don't really need to stay there a lot, since they can either floo or apperate home.”
Fudge strode out of the parlour and Harry stared after him. There was something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge been waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish him for what he’d done? And now Harry came to think of it, surely it wasn’t usual for the Minister for Magic himself to get involved in matters of underage magic?
“Am I just thinking about his now,” Harry said, shaking his head.
“Well, you've had other things on your mind,” Luna said.
Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper.
“Room eleven’s free, Harry,” said Fudge. “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.”
“Why that -” Hermione started, stopping before she said what she wanted to.
“Want to clue us in, Hermione,” Cedric said.
“He didn't go there because he was generally concerned about Harry; he did it because he wants to be 'seen' keeping Harry safe. He's basically doing what he did in the previous book, doing something to be 'seen' doing it,” Hermione said. “By having him stay in Diagon Alley, be back at the Leaky Cauldron before dark, and having Tom look after him, he's basically making sure that people believe that he's protecting you, even though he's not really doing anything.”
“Oh,” Harry said. “That's nice.”
“OK,” said Harry slowly, “but why –?”
“Which part are you questioning?” Luna asked.
“Probably all of it,” Harry said
“Don’t want to lose you again, do we?” said Fudge with a hearty laugh. “No, no ... best we know where you are ... I mean ...”
“He's trying to hide the fact that Black is after you,” Hermione said.
“He's basically treating me like I wouldn't be able to handle it,” Harry said. Hermione nodded.
“Pretty much,” she said
Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstriped cloak.
“Well, I’ll be off, plenty to do, you know.”
“Have you had any luck with Black yet?” Harry asked.
Fudge’s fingers slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak.
“Last question he was expecting from you, and probably the one he would rather not hear from you, as well,” Cedric said
“What’s that? Oh, you’ve heard”
“Did he expect that I wouldn't?” Harry asked. "I mean, it was on the Muggle news."
“– well, no, not yet, but it’s only a matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed ...”
“There's a first for everything,” Hermione said.
“and they are angrier than I’ve ever seen them.”
Fudge shuddered slightly.
“So, I’ll say goodbye.”
He held out his hand and Harry, shaking it, had a sudden idea.
“What else would you want to know?” Hermione asked.
“I don't know,” Harry said.
“Er – Minister? Can I ask you something?”
“Certainly,” smiled Fudge.
“Well, third-years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade,”
“Oh, that's what I'm asking,” Harry said. "I actually forgot about that.”
“Yeah, I can imagine, what with learning what we did so far,” Luna said.
“but my aunt and uncle didn’t sign the permission form. D’you think you could?”
Fudge was looking uncomfortable.
“I don't think he's going to do it, or, rather, that he's going to be able to. Not only does it have to be a parent or guardian, but, with Sirius Black after you, chances are that your privilege would have been revoked for your safety,” Cedric said.
“So, basically, I'm wasting my time asking,” Harry said.
“Ah,” he said. “No. No, I’m very sorry, Harry, but as I’m not your parent or guardian –“
“But you’re the Minister for Magic,” said Harry eagerly. “If you gave me permission –“
“Considering that it's Dumbledore who can say if you can or can't go in the end, it wouldn't matter if he said okay. As Dumbledore is the headmaster, he's most likely the one who has final say, and, since he would know that Fudge isn't your guardian or parent...” Cedric began.
“Then chances are he'd say you couldn't go,” Hermione finished.
“No, I’m sorry, Harry, but rules are rules,” said Fudge flatly.
“And you are not above them,” Luna said. “At least, not for this case.”
'And it's probably only because of Black,” Cedric said.
"I don't think that's true," Hermione said. "I don't think that Dumbledore would do that. I mean, the only time that Harry is given special treatment is in first year, but that was mostly Professor McGonagall's doing so that they wouldn't lose at Quidditch."
“Perhaps you’ll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, I think it best if you don’t ... yes ... well, I’ll be off. Enjoy your stay, Harry.”
“He thinks it best that I not go because of Black,” Harry said, shaking his head. “He should just say it.”
And with a last smile and shake of Harry’s hand, Fudge left the room. Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry.
“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 brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and opened for him.
Inside was a very comfortable-looking bed, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on top of the wardrobe –
“Hedwig!” Harry gasped.
“How is she there? Why is she there?” Harry said.
“She sounds like a very smart owl,” Hermione said.
“She probably sensed that you would want her, and headed back to you,” Luna said.
The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto Harry’s arm.
“Very smart owl you’ve got there,” chuckled Tom. “Arrived about five minutes after you did.”
“She must've immediately taken off when your emotions went out of control,” Luna said.
“If there’s anything you need, Mr Potter, don’t hesitate to ask.”
He gave another bow and left.
Harry sat on his bed for a long time, absent-mindedly stroking Hedwig.
“You need to get some sleep,” Hermione said.
The sky outside the window was changing rapidly from deep, velvety blue to cold, steely grey and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold.
“Yeah, you really need to get some sleep,” Cedric said.
Harry could hardly believe that he’d only left Privet Drive a few hours ago, that he wasn’t expelled, and that he was now facing three completely Dursley-free weeks.
“Sounds like the prefect thing for you,” Luna said.
“It’s been a very weird night, Hedwig,” he yawned.
“A long one, too,” Harry said.
And without even removing his glasses, he slumped back onto his pillows and fell asleep.
“That's the end of the chapter,” Cedric said, handing the book to Luna.