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"You could teach me, right, Sean—?"
Harry's voice crackled with excitement.
Before Sean could answer, Stan came humming down the narrow aisle, carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and completely derailing the conversation.
The Knight Bus chose that exact moment to leap from Anglesey to Aberdeen.
Hot chocolate exploded across Harry's pillow.
Harry sat frozen, mouth open. Sean flicked a finger; the spilled cocoa rose in a neat ribbon and slid obediently back into the mug.
"Wandless magic—Merlin's beard, Mr. Green, that was brilliant!"
Stan clapped like a seal.
"Hey—!"
Harry started to protest, but Stan had already spun back to him.
"Sorry about that, Neville. I'll get you a fresh one—"
He turned away for half a second, then spun right back.
"Absolutely brilliant, Mr. Green!"
Harry slumped back down, fuming. One by one, sleepy witches and wizards in dressing gowns and slippers shuffled down from the upper deck and off the bus, clearly glad to be anywhere else.
Soon only Harry and Sean were left.
"Can we go to London now?" Harry asked.
"Sure thing, Neville. Just a sec." Stan turned to Sean with a respectful little bow. "Where to, Mr. Green, sir?"
"We're both going to London," Harry said, resigned.
"Brilliant, Neville!" Stan clapped again. "Right, where in London?"
"Diagon Alley," Harry answered.
"You got it!" Stan grinned. "Hold tight, we're off—"
BANG!
The bus rocketed down Charing Cross Road. Buildings and benches leaped aside to let it pass. The sky was beginning to lighten.
Ern slammed on the brakes. The Knight Bus screeched to a halt outside a shabby little pub—the Leaky Cauldron, gateway to Diagon Alley.
"Thanks," Harry muttered. He hopped down, helped Stan unload his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage onto the pavement, then turned back.
"See you later!"
But Stan wasn't looking at him.
He stood frozen in the bus doorway, staring wide-eyed at the dark entrance of the pub.
"So there you are, Harry."
A hand landed on Harry's shoulder before he could turn.
At the same moment Stan bellowed, "Blimey, Ern! Come look! Come look!"
Harry looked up at the hand's owner. A short, plump, fussy-looking man in a very strange outfit stared back: pinstriped suit, bright red tie, long black cloak, purple pointed boots, and a dark-green bowler hat tucked under one arm. His face was anxious.
Stan jumped down beside them.
"You called Neville 'Harry,' Minister?" he asked, thrilled.
The short man in the long striped cloak looked cold and tired.
"Neville?" He frowned. "This is Harry Potter."
"I knew it!"
It was the first time Stan had looked at Harry with anything like reverence. Harry felt no joy whatsoever.
Minister?
Which minister?
A very bad feeling settled in his stomach.
Stan was still babbling happily. "Ern! Ern! Guess who Neville really is—Harry Potter! See, important people don't like giving their real names—Justin's Mr. Green, and Neville's actually Harry Potter! I spotted the scar!"
"Yes, yes," the man said impatiently. "I'm delighted the Knight Bus brought Harry here, but right now he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron…"
The hand on Harry's shoulder tightened.
"But—who's this Mr. Green you mentioned?" The minister's ears had perked up at the name.
"Mr. Green? Right here, sir—" Stan pointed.
A black-haired boy had just descended the Knight Bus's long staircase.
"It's you—Mr. Green—"
The minister's grip on Harry suddenly loosened. The oily, flattering tone that came out of his mouth was unlike anything Harry had ever heard.
Sean met Cornelius Fudge's eyes for the first time.
Fudge met Sean's for the first time.
They had both seen each other's faces in the papers countless times, but never like this—face to face.
"Minister Fudge," Sean said quietly.
The short, plump man's eyes narrowed with pleasure, as if he'd just been paid the highest compliment.
"Oh yes, Minister—though these days the job isn't what it used to be." Fudge twisted his face into what he probably thought was a winning smile. "Tell me, Mr. Green—if it were offered to you, would you want to be Minister?"
Fudge had imagined meeting the famous Mr. Green a thousand times. He had never pictured it happening while chasing an escaped convict.
Mr. Green. The alchemists called him that, the fools. To them he was Hermes returned in glory. To Cornelius Fudge he was something far more intoxicating—the boy the papers whispered would one day eclipse even Dumbledore.
A proper rival. Not some madman like You-Know-Who, but a legitimate, well-bred wizard raised by the McGonagall and Prince families.
Whether he liked it or not, Britain's magical world already had a solid bloc of his supporters.
For years the only name that mattered had been Dumbledore.
Fudge knew his own name only worked when borrowed from Dumbledore's shadow.
But now? Now there was a rival.
His own name was about to matter very much.
"Mr. Green, come along… I've been hoping to meet you for quite some time…"
Fudge spoke warmly, already steering Harry toward the pub door.
Sean followed silently, wondering why the Minister seemed a little too eager.
They passed through the back door. A hunched figure holding a lantern emerged—Tom, the thin, toothless landlord.
"You found him, Minister!"
"Tea will do nicely," Fudge said, still squinting at Sean while keeping a firm grip on Harry.
Behind them came the loud scrape of trunk and birdcage. Stan and Ern had reappeared, both grinning and craning their necks.
"Why didn't you tell us who you were, eh, Neville?" Stan chuckled. Ern's owl-like face peered over Stan's shoulder with interest.
"Private parlour, Tom," Fudge ordered curtly.
"Bye," Harry said sadly to Stan and Ern as Tom led Fudge down the narrow passage.
"Bye, Neville!" Stan called after him.
Fudge pushed Harry into a small private room. Tom snapped his fingers; flames roared up in the grate. He bowed and backed out.
"Sit down, Harry." Fudge pointed to a chair by the fire.
Harry sat. Even with the flames warming his face, goosebumps still prickled along his arms.
"Mr. Green, if you'll excuse me for just a moment—I have a small matter to attend to. I'll be right back."
Fudge gave Sean a courteous nod, then turned his full attention on Harry again.
Look at him, Harry thought miserably. All smiles for Mr. Green, but staring at me like I'm on trial.
He was definitely in trouble.
Using magic outside school. They'd caught him. He was finished.