Chapter Text
Harry was walking down the road. Well, walking wasn’t how he’d put it. Escaping? Perhaps moonlighting? His thoughts drifted back to his aunt, likely still floating somewhere as ugly as she was. He settled on breaking out. After all, that house was a prison even on its best days.
Didn’t help that he’d killed the wardens’ sister.
But as he walked down this street, huffing as he lugged his trunk behind him, he saw a girl.
His age, he guesses. Brown hair, some of it tied up in a small puff at the back of her head, scribbling something in a small flip notebook. She looked up when he didn’t keep moving, and they made eye contact.
He felt oddly disarmed when she sized him up, sitting straighter and eyeing his trunk next to him. Something about it made sense to her though, and he could see it when she gestured at the curb next to her.
“Might as well pop a squat here.”
He felt even more disarmed at her brash accent. Americans weren’t uncommon--far from it, his Muggle raising knew--but meeting one here, in the suburbs, in Britain?
“Do….do you…are you here for me?” He asked, and she looked up at him, and–
Oh. No, she wasn’t. She definitely, most assuredly wasn’t and he’d managed to weird out some random girl sitting on the sidewalk at night.
He opened his mouth, to either apologize or shove his foot further into it, when she snorted and laughed a little.
“If that’s how you greet every girl, it’s no wonder you look like you’ve got a foot in the grave, man. Jesus, I don’t think I’ve heard something that bad my entire life!” He grins a little, her quip settling something in his bones. He rattled his trunk over and sat down under the streetlight next to her.
“Ruth.” She introduces, and he nods.
“Harry.”
“Do you want to sit quietly or should we chit-chat?”
He sits on it for a minute. Nobody had ever directly asked before, and he found he appreciated her bluntness. “Honestly, some quiet would be nice.”
“No prob.”
And so they sit. She mutters to herself a bit as she scribbles, and it’s after settling down that he notices headphones around her neck. Some song he doesn’t know plays faintly.
It’s when the streetlight starts flickering does he remember that bad things happen around him all the time. He probably shouldn’t drag this temporary presence into his constant bad luck.
She groans at the interruption though, mumbling something he thinks is “can’t I go one day without this shit?”
They both look up, only for the light to go completely out. They look at each other and shrug. Harry begins formulating some way to tell her that, respectfully, she should probably leave while it was only mildly ominous.
To his credit, in his musings, he only gets slightly distracted by the adrenaline beginning to pump through his system as the wind picks up. The playground equipment behind them moves to be as creaky and haunting as possible.
The final straw was when they turned and watched the teeter-totter move from one end to the other with nobody touching it. She faced forward as he stared at the equipment a second longer.
“Listen, er, Ruth, you should–” he’s cut off by her grabbing his arm as branches snapped across from them, and he whipped around. They stared as something…something moved in the shadow, something with eyes and black fur, teeth and growling.
They both stood. Harry unthinkingly pulled his wand out, only for the both of them to be shoved backward onto the sidewalk, grunting at the force.
And then a horn blew, and they both looked to see a bus materialize from the side. Harry noticed that not only had he pulled out his wand, but that Ruth had pulled one out as well. It made more sense now, that she hadn't questioned the trunk.
He didn’t bother pointing it out. They had a much bigger, much taller and much more bus-shaped priority pulling to a stop in front of the pair of them.
A scraggly man stood at the back end, and didn’t look up as he read from a scrap of paper. “‘Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening.’” The man looked up as he finished, and grinned. “Nice to see you again, girly.”
“Oh shut up, rat man,” she grumbled as she stood. “We both know that it was only a matter of time.”
Harry managed to feel more confused than he had a second ago, and Stan noticed his presence. “What you doin’ down there?”
Harry glanced between him and Ruth, who held a hand out to help him up. “I fell over.”
“What’d you fell over for?”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!”
“Well come on then! Let’s not wait for the grass to grow.”
Harry and Ruth both peeked around the side of the bus, trying to see if the mystery--dog?--was still hiding in the bushes, but it’d vanished.
Stan decided to lean around the side as well, and frowned at the empty bench across the road.
“What you two gawkin’ at?”
A few moments passed, and just as Harry was about to respond, Ruth shrugged. “A bench, apparently. C’mon, let’s get you in where it’s warm.”
He didn’t move as she hopped onto the bus, reaching for his luggage. Stan made quick work of that, shooing his hands off.
“Nonono, I’ll get this, you get in with the missus.”
“I’m not his missus.”
“Sure, girly.”
“You know my name, quit calling me girly!”
Harry felt oddly comforted by the pair of them. They bickered like Ron and his siblings, and it briefly made him think of the Burrow. He watched as Stan struggled to lift his trunk, and Ruth laughed pretty openly at him.
“Sure!” He panted, thudding the trunk down onto the bus platform. “Laugh….laugh it up sweet’eart!”
“We’ve got to get you into a gym, man. Those arms need work.”
“I hate that your father married your mother.”
“I hate that his sister married your mother.”
Harry slowly made his way away from the, apparently, related duo towards a bed further back, unoccupied. He looked up as he reached the center and admired the chandelier, setting aside his curiosity at the need for said light fixture.
The Wizarding World loves its decoration, he thought with a small amount of amusement.
Stan approached from behind him. “Come on, move on move on move on!”
“Relax Stan, he’s probably never seen the bus before!”
“Not my problem! You, grab a bed, I’m tired of your yappin’!” He turned back to Harry, and printed out some kind of receipt. This was held out to him, and he took it with a nod. He printed out a second, and held it out to Ruth, over Harry’s shoulder.
“Thanks!”
“Yeah.” He rapped his knuckles on the glass. “Take ‘er away, Ern!” Harry heard the little head hanging on the mirror say something to the driver who rapidly sat up, and felt a hand on his shoulder.
He turned to see Ruth. “You should probably sit down for this bit if you haven’t been on before.”
“What–?”
The horn honked twice and suddenly he was on his back on the bed, while Stan and Ruth remained standing. He felt a bit better when he noticed that Ruth only stayed in her upright position due to a quick hand on the wall rail. He watched as she waited for the beds to roll back towards the front, and jumped onto the one behind his.
As he approached Stan, the man looked pensive. “What did you say your name was, again?”
“I didn’t!”
“Well whereabouts are you ‘eaded? And don’t-” he pointed past him to Ruth, “don’t get any ideas. We’ll be dropping you at the Cauldron, where you’re s’posed to be!”
“Yeah yeah, I get it. I didn’t mean to go out this far, and by the time I realized my broom was broken I couldn’t get back!”
“Right. And what was it you said?” He turned back to Harry.
“The Leaky Cauldron. That’s in London.”
Stan turned slightly. “Did you ‘ear that, Ern? The Leaky Cauldron. That’s in London.” He snickered, and the head turned to look at Harry and Ruth.
“The Leaky Cauldron! Hey, if you ‘ave the pea soup, make sure you eat it before it eats you! AhahahaHAAAA!"
Harry glanced out the window as they weaved through normal traffic. “But the Muggles–!” Harry was thrown briefly at one of the many sudden turns. “Can’t they see us?!”
“Muggles! They don’t see nothin’, do they?” Stan shrugged off his concern.
The head cut in with a laugh. “No, but if you jab them with a fork, they feel!”
Ruth behind him leaned forward. "Remember, on the curb, the bus appeared out of nowhere, right?"
"Yes?"
"Same thing!" She grunted as their beds smashed together. "They don't see what they don't think is there!"
"Oh, give the lip a rest, Ruth!" Stan groaned. "Nobody cares, 'cause it ain't bein' seen."
"Some of us are curious on how things work, asshole!" Her tone was full of mild snark, and Harry decided he liked her.
A few seconds later, and suddenly- “Ernie! Little old lady at twelve o’clock!”
“Harry–!” Ruth’s voice shouted in warning but it was too late. The bus had pulled to a sudden and full stop, and Harry greeted the window with a painful smack!
The bus sat calm for the first time since he’d gotten on it. Hurried footsteps led to gentle hands pulling him off the window.
“You okay?” Ruth asked, and Harry tried his best to not let the mortification of what had just happened surface just yet. That could wait for the middle of the night for the next three years.
“Y-yeah, ‘m fine.”
“Great stop, Ernie!” She called, before checking Harry over briefly. “Believe it or not, it’s one of his best stops thus far." She winced as he rubbed his face. "Sorry I wasn't fast enough to grab you."
He just shrugged in response.
“Ten, nine, eight–” the head began counting, and Ruth grabbed Harry’s arm. She led him to the bed he'd flown from, quickly sitting down. “Seven, six, five four, tree, tree and a half, two, one and tree quarters!”
The bus took off as soon as the old lady had cleared the edge, and Harry felt immensely grateful Ruth had the foresight to grab him. He nearly went flying to the bed she’d just been on.
“Thanks for that,” he muttered, and she smiled.
“No biggie.”
As the bed rolled back to Stan, Harry looked at the newspaper he was reading.
“Who is that?” Stan looked up, and Harry nodded to the paper. “That man.”
Stan flipped the paper closed, then looked up in disbelief. “Who is that? Who is–” he flipped the paper back over, cutting himself off, and showed the pair the picture. “That is Sirius Black, that is. Don’t tell me you’ve never been ‘earing of Sirius Black?” Both of them shook their heads.
Stan leaned in close. “He’s a murderer. Got ‘imself locked up in Azkaban for it.”
Ruth was one beat ahead of Harry. “How did he escape?”
“Well that’s the question, innit? He’s the first one that done it!” He leaned toward Harry. “He was a big supporter of…you know who.” He stood upright again. “Reckon you’ve heard o’ him.”
“Yeah,” Harry nodded, glancing at Ruth’s frowning face, and out the window. “Him I’ve heard of.”
Ruth was quiet, before, “oh!” Harry turned to her, and she was looking at him. “The guy who’s name starts with ‘V’, right? I would say it but it’s kind of taboo here, or so I've been told.”
“Yeah, wait–is he not a big deal in America?”
“Yeah, no, not really. He’s made some headlines here and there, and those of us in the States who pay attention to international goings-on have an idea. Otherwise, he’s not really mentioned on the daily.”
Harry tried to ignore his entire body filling with envy. “Right.”
“Ernie, two double decker buses at twelve o’clock.” The head called,, “they’re gettin’ closer, Ern.”
Ruth, from next to Harry, groaned, and crawled over his bed as the bus suddenly slowed. She dug into a small bag that Harry hadn’t seen.
“You want a stick, Stan?” She called, and the man hummed an affirmative. She pulled out a pack of gum, and tossed one to Stan. She handed one to Harry. “This next part’s gonna feel weird, like your whole body is going through a crayon box. Chew this afterwards, it’ll help with the nausea.”
“Is it charmed or something?”
She laughed. “It’s charmingly peppermint flavored.”
Harry looked forward as the hanging head turned, and, “Mind ya head.” Was all he was given as an ominous warning.
And then he realized that Ruth had described it perfectly. The bus, with everyone and everything inside, squeezed. And he decided that her use of a crayon box did not give the feeling justice.
“Hey guys, guys! Why da long faces!” The head in front cackled as the bus passed through, and Harry abruptly popped back into his normal shape. He was nudged by Ruth, and watched as she started chewing. He unwrapped the gum she was obviously hinting at, and followed her lead.
He chewed, and sure enough, the bus stopped swimming around him.
Shortly afterward, Harry heard the head start chanting something as the bus zoomed along, only to fly forward yet again at the sudden stop. This time, though, he’d been saved and choked by Ruth grabbing onto the back of his shirt, preventing him from smacking into the front of the bus.
It did not stop the gum inside of his mouth from being spit out, landing squarely above the window next to Stan's head. The man in question gave Harry an unimpressed look as he blew a small bubble with his own gum.
“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to choke you, promise!” Ruth let go and he coughed a bit, rubbing his throat.
"'S fine," he croaked.
“The Leaky Cauldron.” Stan announced, and Ruth huffed as she stood from the bed.
“Hey, it’d be great if you warned us next time.” She grumbled. She inspected Harry's neck for any sort of marks or injury, and he looked behind her to see a man had boarded the bus.
“Oh I’ll warn ya alright!” The head cackled. “Next stop, Knockturn Alley.”
“Ah, Mr. Potter, at last." The man glanced at Ruth beside him. His smile grew a little...strained. "And young Miss Miller, sneaking out again?”
Ruth groaned. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m headed in.”
She hopped off the bus ahead of him, as Stan helped the innkeeper get Harry’s trunk off the bus. She held the door for the pair, and waved over Harry's shoulder at the bus. He glanced back just to watch it disappear.
“Well, that was fun." She followed them in. "I’ll see you around.” She held out a hand, and Harry gently shook it.
“It was nice meeting you.”
“You too. Get some sleep.”
He watched as she headed off, saying a quick goodnight to the man still dragging his luggage in.
She seemed nice, he idly noted. Maybe he really would see her around.