A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for the Hogwarts Eastern Funfair, for the Ferris Wheel. My prompt: (location) Knight Bus.

Word Count: 1988

Thanks to my sister for beta'ing!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.

Enjoy!

Ernie Prang had seen a lot in his years of driving the Knight Bus. He'd seen plenty of strange people, heard too many disturbing tales, and had felt both sympathy and disgust towards his passengers. But there were still a great many witches and wizards who managed to surprise him.

He used those stories to comfort men and women in similar situations (omitting names in order to protect identity). When someone was distancing themselves from their family, he told them the story of a sixteen-year-old boy without a cloak.

The doors of the Knight Bus flew open. A few December snowflakes were blown into the bus, and Ernie shivered. Standing in front of the doors was a boy, no older than sixteen or seventeen, struggling to pull his trunk up the steps and on board. Ernie sighed and stood up.

"'ere, mate. Lemme help you with that. See, normally I'd have a conductor to do this for ya, but 'e called in sick at the last moment." Ernie put the truck snugly in between two beds, then stepped back and looked at the boy. "Now, who're you, and where ya goin'?"

The boy shivered, his lips a bit blue. Ernie noticed for the first time that the boy wasn't dressed for the weather, and wondered about his parents.

"I'm Sirius Black," the boy said clearly, his grey eyes daring the driver to say something . When he didn't say anything, Sirius looked down and mumbled, "I need to go to the Potters'."

Ernie whistled. "Long drive, that. You got any money on you, Sirius?"

The young pureblood pales slightly. "Yeah. Er. How much do you need?"

Ernie grinned. "Eleven sickles for a ticket, fifteen if you want a hot chocolate, and—"

"Just the— just the ticket. Please," he added as an afterthought.

Ernie nodded, then sat down in the driver's seat. Sirius began digging through his pockets, carefully counting out the money. He came up and handed it to Ernie, who stuffed it in his pocket without bothering to count it.

They drive in silence; they were the only two people on the bus. Ernie couldn't help but glance at the sullen teenager in the rear view mirror. His long black hair was damp with melted snow, as were his clothes, and though some color had returned to his face, it was obvious that the boy was still chilled. There were dark circles under his eyes, and now that Sirius thought that the driver wasn't looking, he looked rather scared.

Well, that simply wouldn't do. The Knight Bus was a safe haven. "What brings you to the Potters' at," He glanced at the clock. "one in the morning?"

Sirius jumped at the unexpected question. His eyes flickered towards Ernie nervously, distrusting.

Ernie shot him a reassuring smile. "It's all right, lad. What's said in this bus doesn't leave it."

Evidently, Sirius believed him. "I was disowned by my family," he stated bluntly. "I ran away."

Ernie really, really hoped that he wouldn't be sued for aiding someone's runaway son. "You ran away, or you were disowned?"

Sirius lifted his chin, once again silently daring the old driver to judge. "I ran away, so my mother burned my name off of the family tapestry."

An uneasy feeling twisted around in Ernie's stomach. "Well, now. Sometimes parents and their children don't get along, but—"

Sirius laughed hollowly, his grey eyes darkening. "Oh no. This isn't just a disagreement. My whole family hates me; I can think for myself, you see, and don't agree with their pureblood ideology. I believe that blood status has nothing to do with character, merit, or magical ability. They loathe me for it. The Potters are— they're more my family than my blood relatives."

Ernie was speechless. He'd never been good with words, but he doubted that even the most eloquent of people would have been able to come up with an appropriate response. Finally, Ernie decided to do what his mum had always done when tension was high: he made a cup of tea. He put the kettle on, which was stationed beside him for such purposes. When a mug was ready, he floated it over to the young boy with a flick of his wand.

Sirius glanced up in surprise. "What—"

"It's tea," Ernie interrupted. "Nice and hot."

Sirius tried to push it away. "I didn't order this. I can't afford—"

"Did I say I charged for tea? No, don' think I did. I said I charge for hot chocolate. Drink up."

Sirius looked dumbstruck for a moment, then grinned tiredly. "Thanks."

The rest of the ride was spent in a comfortable silence. But as Ernie pulled up in front of the Potters', he had one last thing to say to his passenger.

"Hey, kid? Not everyone hates ya for being a decent person. Your family doesn't define ya."

Sirius appeared to feel a bit better. "Thanks, er—"

"Ernie," the driver offered. "Ernie Prang."

Sirius nodded. "Thanks, Ernie."

Now, Sirius Black was known for being the brave Order of the Phoenix member who wrongfully served twelve years in Azkaban. Ernie, however, would always think first of the boy who had so carefully hidden his terror at finding himself suddenly alone in the world.

He told his passengers other stories, too. If someone was feeling disconnected from their family, he told them about the green-eyed girl with the broken sandal.

It wasn't often that the Knight Bus was summoned to a Muggle neighborhood, but it was a welcome change. The sun was shining brightly against the pavement, and when the bus doors opened, a wave of blistering heat entered the bus.

A young girl, probably about seventeen, stuffed her wand under her arm and hopped awkwardly on board. Ernie ran a hand through his greying hair, damp with sweat, and grinned at her. "Hullo, Miss. Just the ticket then? Most folk don't want a cup of 'ot chocolate on days like this one."

She smiled, but looked upset and frazzled. "Yes, please. Just the ticket."

Ernie smiled, attempting to to calm her. Her green eyes were swimming with unshed tears, and her voice was shaking. "That'll be eleven sickles, Miss. Name and destination?"

She searched through her purse, then extracted a handful of sickles. "Is this enough?"

Ernie counted them and nodded, even though there were only ten. "Name and destination?" he asked again.

She smiled embarrassedly. "Lily Evans. I'm going to— can you take me to the Leaky Cauldron in London?"

"Aye, that I can, Miss Evans." he answered.

Like most weekdays, the bus didn't have many occupants. There was a young couple snogging in the back, and a small group of teens were enjoying the thrill of riding the Knight Bus on the upper deck.

Ernie glanced at Lily as he drove. She was wiping discreetly at her eyes, using her long red hair to shield her face from view. He recalled her limp as she climbed up on the bus, and saw that she was holding a broken sandal.

"Your shoe okay, Miss Lily?" he asked.

Her knuckles whitened as she tightened her grip on it. "Oh, yes, thank you. I just got into an argument with— er, my sister," she mumbled, turning red. She obviously hadn't planned on sharing the last bit.

Ernie raised an eyebrow. "Must've been some argument."

Lily nodded, avoiding his gaze. After a moment, she blurted out, "My sister is a Muggle. She— she's never liked the fact that I'm a witch. She… she called me a freak."

Ernie winced. This wasn't an easy topic to address, but he wasn't about to deny Lily a listening ear. "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Lily."

Lily nodded, but it was clear that she was only half-listening. "I just— I don't understand her. I don't know if she's jealous, or if she— if she really thinks that—" She stopped herself and buried her head in her hands. "I threw a book at her, so she broke my sandal, threw it at me, then told me to go."

"Well," Ernie began hesitantly. "What do you think?"

Lily looked up, sniffing. "Pardon?"

"See, your sister can say whatever she wants, but it'll only affect ya if ya start to believe it. So. What do ya think?"

She was silent for so long, Ernie thought she had forgotten the question, but answer she did.

"I'm not a freak," she said quietly. "Tuney may think that, but I can't be part of something so wonderful and call myself a freak."

Ernie smiled. "Atta girl."

Her smile as she got off the bus was brighter than any sun he'd ever seen.

Nowadays, Lily Evans was better known as Lily Potter, the woman who gave her life for her son, an action that had lasting effects in the war. Ernie, of course, would think first of the girl who had been so heartbroken over her sister's careless words.

There was one story he told more than any other. If someone was worried, scared, or lonely, he'd tell the story of the young boy with a bittersweet grin.

"Hullo, Ernie! One ticket to London, please."

Ernie grinned at one of his most frequent customers, showing off some of his missing teeth. "Right you are, Mister James."

James Potter rolled his eyes. "When're you going to drop the mister, like I've asked?"

Ernie shook his head fondly. "Never, lad. Get used to it."

James sighed good-naturedly. He settled down in a seat as the bus began to move, expertly keeping his balance as it jerked and swerved through traffic.

Ernie glanced at the seventeen-year-old concernedly. Usually by now, he'd be talking the old man's ear off about Quidditch. "You all right, lad? Something eating you?"

James pulled absentmindedly at a thread on his sleeve. "It's my last year at Hogwarts. I suppose I just…" He ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I'm just worried about what will happen after graduation."

Ernie frowned, his blue eyes clouding with worry. "You're a smart lad, James. You'll do fine, I'm sure of it."

James shook his head, the sunlight glinting off of his glasses. "I'm not worried about myself; I'm worried about two of my friends," he muttered. "One of them will have a hard time getting a job— in the field he wants— because of who his family is. The other will have a hard time getting hired because of all the days he'll have to miss."

"Why does he have to miss those days?"

James bit his lip. "He's… chronically ill."

Grief washed over Ernie like a tidal wave. He hated hearing about youth who had such terrible things holding them down. "Well, ya can tell the both of 'em that the Knight Bus will always have a spot for 'em. I need a more reliable conductor, anyhow."

James looked sad. "Thanks, but… well, the first will want to be a front-line fighter, and the other is a genius. He could do half of the Ministry officials' jobs better than them, and—" he cut himself off.

Ernie chuckled mirthlessly. "Sometimes, lad, we draw the short sticks in life. Some more than others."

"I feel bad," James admitted quietly, his hazel eyes frustrated. "There are so many doors open to me, but they're locked to them."

Ernie glanced at James solemnly. "Lad, sometimes all we can do is be a good friend."

It wasn't perfect advice, but James accepted it.

Yes, Ernie Prang saw a lot in his line of work. He heard a lot, and he felt a lot.

What kept him firmly planted behind the wheel were the surprises he got. James and Lily Potter grew up to be heroes in death. Sirius Black did too, after a longer life of tragedy and fortitude.

But those heroes were also people— kids, even— with insecurities, and that was the lesson Ernie was so thankful he had learned.