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The little goblin snarled in fury and loosed another arrow. It whistled through the dark, punched clean through three massive tree trunks, and buried itself deep in the ground beyond.
Sirius didn't doubt for a second that the next one would be aimed at him if he kept pushing.
Because the goblin was already nocking another.
"You…"
He faltered, then forced the words out. "How the hell did you find me? Nobody knows I'm an Animagus."
"Was the water around Azkaban cold?" Sean asked, those green eyes cutting straight through him.
Sirius gave a bitter laugh. "You think that place is a holiday camp, kid? Yeah, it was freezing. Yesterday was a goddamn storm—waves high enough to drown a giant. I nearly died out there… but here I am."
Sean said nothing for a long moment.
Then, quietly: "Do you have somewhere to stay?"
Sirius stared at him like he'd lost his mind. "What?"
"Do you have somewhere to stay?" Sean repeated, patient as ever.
"Alleys. Doorways. Where the hell does a stray dog sleep?" Sirius bared his yellowed teeth.
Silence stretched again. Sirius couldn't take it.
"How do you even know who I am? If you're turning me in to the Ministry, do it now. You'll get a fat reward—more Galleons than you've ever seen in your life.
But if you're not… I'll pay you more. Every last Knut the Black family ever owned."
That was when he heard the goblin laughing.
Puck doubled over, arrow still in hand, shoulders shaking so hard the bowstring hummed.
"What the hell is so funny?" Sirius snapped, face flushing.
"Why the fuck would I tell you?" Puck snarled back, all trace of amusement gone.
"I've had enough!" Sirius roared. "Either drag me off or let me go—what the hell do you want?!"
"As you wish." Sean nodded once. "Will, take Mr. Black to Grimmauld Place, number twelve."
Sirius's jaw actually dropped.
He was still reeling when the grumpy little goblin grabbed his arm and Apparated them away.
Grimmauld Place, number twelve.
Sirius stared at the grim old house like it might bite him, then at the goblin beside him.
"Your master… he must be one hell of a wizard, right?"
Puck just eyed him sideways and shoved a heavy bag of clinking Galleons into his hand.
"Master's orders. I'll be watching you. If you need help—ha—I'll help. Whether you like it or not."
"What does that even mean?" Sirius asked, completely lost.
"Idiot," Puck muttered under his breath.
"You—"
Puck cut him off with a glare. They didn't go straight into the old Black house—Aurors would be all over it. Instead the goblin led him inside just long enough to grab a few things, then Apparated them both straight to the Leaky Cauldron.
And that was how Sirius Black, escaped convict and most wanted man in Britain, ended up hiding in a back room of the pub with a foul-mouthed goblin bodyguard who seemed to know his entire life story.
Sirius had never experienced anything this bizarre. The goblin—and whoever the hell his master was—knew everything about him. He knew nothing about them except one name.
"Sean Green…"
He shook his head, still trying to wrap his mind around it.
Merlin, could things get any weirder?
"Your master must be one hell of a wizard," Sirius tried again, laying on the charm he'd once used on half the girls at Hogwarts. "I bet he can see the future or something. How else would you have caught me so easily? What's your name, anyway? I want to remember the goblin who pulled off something this big."
Will's cheeks actually flushed. He tried to hide it by scowling harder.
"You can butter me up all you want right now, wizard. I like it. But once we're in the room, keep your mouth shut. Master's orders—you've got work to do. Can't have you getting caught yet."
"You know what I'm planning?" Sirius asked, stunned all over again.
Puck snorted. "You really think you can underestimate Mr. Green? He's going to be greater than any wizard you've ever heard of."
"Last I checked, the greatest wizard of the century is still Dumbledore," Sirius said dryly.
"Buy a newspaper, you ignorant git," Will shot back, already heading downstairs.
Sirius followed, shaking his head the whole way.
He had no idea what was happening, but one thing was crystal clear:
He was being helped—by a wizard who was something else entirely.
At the same time, back on Privet Drive number four.
Maybe it was some kind of cosmic echo, because Harry said almost the exact same thing Sirius had been thinking.
"I'm done," Harry said, voice low but steady. "I've had enough."
He turned and walked out without looking back.
A second later he was on the dark, silent street, dragging his heavy trunk behind him, Hedwig's empty cage tucked under one arm.
He saw Sean waiting under the streetlamp and suddenly didn't feel alone at all.
"Where are we going?" Harry asked, a wild spark of excitement in his voice.
"The Leaky Cauldron. Remember? They've got rooms."
"How are we getting there?"
"You'll see in a second. Oh—and this is from your aunt."
Sean crooked a finger. A modest-sized cake box appeared in Harry's hands, complete with a greeting card, a permission slip, and a small wooden case.
Harry stood frozen, staring at the box.
Then—BANG!
A blinding flash of light exploded right in front of them.
Harry threw his hands up to shield his eyes.
When he lowered them, a pair of enormous wheels and glaring headlights had materialized out of nowhere.
He looked up.
A violently purple triple-decker bus now filled the entire street, gold letters on the windshield spelling out:
THE KNIGHT BUS
Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard.
A conductor in a purple uniform leaped down, shouting into the night.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus—emergency transport for witches and wizards in trouble! Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we'll take you anywhere you want to go! I'm Stan Shunpike, and I'll be your conductor tonight—"
Harry was still blinking when Sean took his hand.
"Come on," Sean said with a grin.
And just like that, Harry Potter left Privet Drive for the last time—cake in one hand, trunk in the other, and the strangest, best night of his life stretching out ahead of him.