"Can you teach me that, Sean—?"
Harry asked eagerly.
Before Sean could answer, Stan came humming back over.
And just like that, their conversation was interrupted.
Apparently he had remembered that both Harry and Sean had paid for hot chocolate, so he came down the narrow aisle carrying two cups of thick chocolate.
That was when the accident happened.
The bus suddenly jumped from Anglesey to Aberdeen, and Stan spilled the chocolate all over Harry's pillow.
Harry stared in disbelief, while Sean instinctively guided his own spilled chocolate back into the cup.
"What exquisite wandless magic! Merlin—Mr. Green, that really is—"
Stan broke into applause right in front of Harry.
"Hey—"
Harry began angrily.
"Neville, sorry about that, I'll get you another one—"
Stan turned to him for all of one second, then wheeled right back around again.
"Brilliant, Mr. Green!"
Harry sat back down in a huff just as the wizards in dressing gowns and slippers came filing downstairs and got off the bus one by one.
They all seemed desperate to get off as quickly as possible.
In the end, only Harry and Sean were left on board.
"So, can we go to London now?"
Harry asked.
"Of course, Neville. We'll talk later, Mr. Green—where are you headed?"
Stan asked respectfully, as if Harry didn't exist.
"We're both going to London," Harry said, sounding resigned.
"That's just splendid, Neville," Stan clapped his hands and said, "Where in London?"
Only then did he ask Harry.
"Diagon Alley," Harry said.
"Right then," Stan replied. "Hold tight, and away we—"
Bang!
They shot through Charing Cross Road like lightning.
Harry sat upright and watched out the window as buildings and benches all squeezed aside to let the Knight Bus through.
The sky was beginning to lighten.
Ern slammed on the brakes, and the Knight Bus came to a halt in front of a shabby little pub—the Leaky Cauldron, with the hidden entrance to Diagon Alley behind it.
"Thanks," Harry said to Ern. He hopped down the steps and helped Stan unload his trunk and Hedwig's cage onto the pavement.
"Well then," Harry said as he stepped off the bus first, "goodbye!"
But Stan wasn't paying attention to Harry.
He was still standing in the doorway of the bus, staring wide-eyed at the dark entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.
"So this is where you were, Harry."
A voice spoke. Before Harry could turn around, he felt a hand land on his shoulder.
At the same time, Stan shouted,
"Blimey! Ern, come here! Come here!"
Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder. It was a very odd-looking man.
He was short and stout, with untidy gray hair and an anxious expression.
His clothes were a bizarre jumble: a pinstriped suit, a bright red tie, a black cloak, and purple pointed boots. Tucked under one arm was a dark green bowler hat.
Stan jumped down onto the pavement and stood beside them.
"Why're you calling Neville by that name, Minister?" he asked excitedly.
The short, stout man in the striped cloak looked cold and tired.
"Neville?" he said, frowning. "This is Harry Potter."
"I knew it!"
This was the first time Stan had ever looked at Harry with that kind of solemn respect, but Harry didn't feel happy about it at all.
What had Stan just called him?
Minister?
Which minister?
Harry suddenly had a very bad feeling.
And Stan was still babbling happily:
"Ern! Ern! Guess who Neville is, Ern! It's Harry Potter!
I told you, important people never like giving their real names—
Justin was Mr. Green, and Neville turned out to be Harry Potter!
I knew it all along—I saw his scar!"
"Yes," Fudge said impatiently, "I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but right now he and I need to go into the Leaky Cauldron…"
The hand on Harry's shoulder tightened.
"But what did you say—Mr. Green?"
Fudge was always sharply alert to certain names.
"Mr. Green, sir—look, he's right here—"
Stan said, just as a black-haired little wizard stepped down the bus stairs.
"So it's really you—Mr. Green—"
Harry felt the grip on his shoulder loosen, and the "Minister" in front of him suddenly used the most slickly flattering tone Harry had ever heard.
This was the first time Sean had met Fudge.
And it was the first time Fudge had met Sean.
Of course, each of them had seen the other in newspapers countless times, but face-to-face—this was a first.
"Minister Fudge," Sean said slowly.
The short, stout man looked as though he had just heard a sweet love confession. His eyes narrowed with pleasure.
"Yes, Minister—though being Minister isn't such an easy job these days."
Fudge squinted, his face twisting almost comically.
"And you, Mr. Green—if it were you, would you be willing to be Minister?"
Fudge had imagined meeting this Mr. Green ten thousand times, but never while dealing with an escaped convict.
Mr. Green. Those fools called him Mr. Green. What a hopelessly inadequate title.
To those mad old alchemists, he was Hermes returned in glory. But to Cornelius Fudge, he would always be the figure he himself had helped make famous through careful rumor and convenient publicity—
the future greatest wizard, the wizard who would surpass Dumbledore.
Thrilling, really—Dumbledore had a rival now, and not some madman like You-Know-Who, but a proper wizard, raised jointly by the McGonagalls and the Princes.
Whether he wanted it or not, British wizarding society had already gathered a solid camp of supporters around him.
Once, Britain had only one great name: Dumbledore.
And as for Fudge?
He knew perfectly well that his own name only mattered because of Dumbledore.
But now it was different. Dumbledore had a rival.
Soon, Fudge's own name would matter.
"Mr. Green, come along with us… To be honest, I've been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time…"
Fudge said, while at the same time hustling Harry into the pub.
Sean followed quietly behind, thinking that the Minister's enthusiasm seemed just a little too much.
Once they reached the back door of the pub, a hunchbacked figure emerged holding a lantern.
It was Tom, the pub's skinny, shriveled, toothless landlord.
"You've found him, Minister!"
Tom said. "Would you like something? Beer? Brandy?"
"A pot of tea," Fudge said, narrowing his eyes at Sean while still keeping a hold on Harry.
Behind Sean came the loud scraping of something being dragged, along with heavy breathing. Stan and Ern had reappeared, hauling Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage, both of them craning around excitedly.
"Why didn't you tell us who you were, eh, Neville?"
Stan said cheerfully to Harry, while Ern's owl-like face peered curiously over his shoulder.
"A private room, Tom," Fudge said bluntly.
"Bye," Harry muttered miserably to Stan and Ern, while Tom led Fudge toward the corridor beside the bar.
"Bye, Neville!" Stan called after him.
Fudge pushed Harry along after Tom's lantern and into a small private room.
Tom snapped his fingers, and flames leapt up in the grate. Then he bowed and backed out.
"Sit down, Harry," Fudge said, pointing to a chair by the fire.
Harry sat, though even with the fire burning he still felt goosebumps rise along his arms.
"If you'll excuse me a moment, Mr. Green, I need to deal with something first. It won't take long."
Fudge turned slightly toward Sean as he said it, then looked back at Harry.
Just look at him—kind and open with Sean, but inspecting Harry like a suspicious object.
Harry was certain he was finished.
The underage magic outside school had to be on his head.
~~~
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