Disclaimer: Harry Potter, characters, names, and related indicia are tradmarks of Warner Bros. All rights to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and their affiliations. No Copyright infrigment is intended, nor is any money being made through this.
Rating: T (For mild language, and violence) (Warnings will be subject to change as story progresses)
Summary: AU Eleven years ago, Albus Dumbledore managed to bring Harry Potter back to life after a house fire killed the boy and his relatives. Albus and Harry lived for years at Hogwarts together, savouring their statuses as saviours of the Wizarding World. But then Harry Potter came along and ruined everything. Harry James Potter never died, and he wants his life back.
A/N: Hello and welcome to A Shot in the Dark! This is my very first multi-chapter story (I usually specialize in one-shots), and is an un-beta'd mess. Please let me know how I'm doing in a review! Anyway, without further ado: please enjoy A Shot in the Dark!
If he were to be perfectly honest, Stan Shunpike did not truly hate his job. He complained quite often, he would admit, but being the conductor of the Knight Bus did come with some perks.
However, having to drive around on said bus at twelve o'clock in the morning and pick up random witches and wizards on the roadside was not one of those perks. Unless and until, that is, someone interesting shows up.
It had been a rather slow day, the magical community seeming to prefer flooing, apparating, or using any of the other magical means of transportation aside from the Knight Bus (he couldn't exactly blame them. The driver, Ernie, was a nice bloke and all, but he was a horrible and terrifying driver). By sunset, they had transported a grand total of five people, an all time low. By ten, any hope of activity simply stopped.
Tuesdays, Stan thought. Where the bloody Merlin does everyone go on the weekdays? The bus drove around in circles for what seemed like forever, unsure of what to do and unable to go home as per the boss's orders.
And then, after nearly three hours of aimless wandering, someone called. A wand had been placed in the air alongside the road. Thankful for something to do, Ernie stepped on the gas pedal as hard as he could, flooring it over to where the stranded wizard (Or witch, Stan thought.) waited to be picked up.
They found their customer sitting on a park bench in a town just outside of Nottingham. It was definitely a man, a boy from the looks of his small stature. He kept himself and his face covered with a thick brown cloak, the hood resting loosely on his head, shadowing his face from Stan's view.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus," Stan recited from memory, "emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wiz-"
Before he could finish his constantly repeated monologue, the cloaked wizard pushed passed him, muttering a barely audible: "Yes, yes, I know." The shadowed figure sat himself on one of the beds, took out a ridiculously tiny bag, and pulled out a handful of sickles and a worn piece of paper. "I need you to take me here," the man said, handing the paper to Stan. "How much will that cost me?"
Stan examined the parchment that now rested in his hands. As he stared at the faded blue ink that was scrawled across the note, Stan was able to make out: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He looked up from the parchment to find the hooded wizard staring intensely at him; his vivid green eyes trained unblinkingly. The conductor felt a chill run down his spine from the raw power radiating off of the boy sitting in front of him. "You wan' to go to Hogwarts?" Stan asked dumbly.
The stranger nodded. "Is that a problem?"
He focused his eyes back on the parchment, not wanting to continue the staring match between him and this powerful figure. "Well, yeah, actually. Sorry to say, but the Knight Bus' only travellin' the streets of England this week. Hogwarts has the unfortunate state of being a bit too far for us to drive to."
Though he kept a mask of indifference on his face, Stan could tell the kid (man?) was frowning on the inside; his displeasure nearly palpable in the small space of the double-decker bus. "I see," he muttered, more to himself than Stan. "Can you get me to Hogsmeade, then?"
"Can I get ya to Hogsmeade? Well I don-." Stan was cut off by the soft swish of the stranger cloak as he shifted in his seat. The wizard's arm shot out, grabbing Stan's wrist before he could even blink. Stan's heart skipped a beat in fear. Was he angry that they couldn't take him? Stan could feel his pulse quicken, sweat forming on his brow. Please let it be quick...Please let it be quick...
As he braced himself for the worst, something heavy fell onto the palm of his hand. Now, in his previously empty appendage, there sat a rather ordinary brown leather bag that seemed to overflow with a very extraordinary amount of large, shiny, gold galleons.
This time, Stan's heart stopped for a very different reason.
"So," the stranger drawled, leaning back into his previous seat, acting as if he had not just placed as least one hundred (possibly two) galleons in his conductor's hand. "Can you get me to Hogsmeade, then?"
Stan jumped up, nearly tripping over himself as landed. "Er, yeah, I- let me just- I'll tell Ernie – the driver – where we're goin'."
Ernie, of course, had no qualms about driving the mysterious wizard so far after his partner gave him a glimpse of the gold they had been given. He winded down the muggle streets seemingly faster than usual (if that was even possible) eager to please the man who had paid them so much extra money. Stan stood silently on the opposite side of their customer; said customer seemed perfectly content with the silence and made no move to break it. Or move at all, for that matter.
Finally, fed up with the tension that appeared to grow like a fungus with the deafening quiet, Stan blurted out: "What's your name?"
The other wizard sighed, the only indication that he had even heard the question. He was hesitant to answer. After a few more moments of silence, he responded: "Harry. Harry Potter."
"Well, Harry Potter," he continued. "I'm Stan Shunpike and I am your conductor for this morning's ride. Might I ask how old you are?" In retrospect, it probably wasn't all that smart to pester such a seemingly powerful man, but there was something about him that Stan was very interested in finding out. What that was, he had yet to figure out.
"What does it matter?" Harry Potter snapped back at him. "I'm old enough."
"S'alright, sorry sir, didn't mean to cause offense," Stan muttered hurriedly. Best not to get on this bloke's bad side... "So, er, ya wanna go to Hogwarts...Why's that...if you don' mind me askin' that is." He added the last part quickly, stumbling on the words as he said them to avoid getting the man – Mr. Potter – angry.
Harry Potter turned silent again, facing away from the older (younger?) wizard a few feet away from him. "I need to speak with the Headmaster," he spat, a surprising amount of venom in his voice. "Albus Dumbledore, yes?"
"Yeah, Dumbledore's 'is name. Why doya need to speak with 'im?"
Silence. "He has something of mine," Mr. Potter answered, the revulsion clear in his tone. "He stole it from me. And I would like it back." A chill ran up Stan's back with each word Harry Potter spoke. Ernie remained blissfully oblivious to the conversation taking place behind him.
"Oh," Stan said awkwardly. "Well...I hope ya get it back."
Harry Potter grunted in response. After that, he successfully ignored any other attempts from Stan at restarting a conversation, perfectly happy to brood in silence. No words were spoken for the rest of the drive to Hogsmeade.
By the time the bus had pulled into the small magical town, the awkward silence had been so tangible that even Ernie (who was usually far too dense to notice small things like tension) could feel it. Both of the Knight Bus employees were very eager to rid themselves of the mysterious Harry Potter.
Harry didn't disappoint. The moment the bus stopped, he jumped up from his seat, muttering a surprisingly warm, "Thank you" as stepped out the door. He turned and quickly said "Have a safe drive back, Mr. Shunpike," before spinning around and walking the other way.
Harry got about a metre away before he paused his steps. "Oh and...Mr. Shunpike?" he called back.
"Yes?" Stan replied, not unconfused to say the least.
Harry took a deep breath before turning around to face him, slowly closing the gap between himself and the bus. "It- I think it would be better if...if you never met me."
Stan raised an eyebrow, not entirely following what the wizard in front of him was talking about. "Whaddya mean-?" His eyes widened slightly in barely concealed fear as a wand was raised to point directly between his eyes.
"Obliviate!"
A bright white light danced across Stan Shunpike's vision before slamming full force against his forehead. A sharp-shooting pain spread around his skull, the pressure building greater and greater with each breath he took (it didn't help that he had already been near hyperventilating). Stan tried to alleviate the agony by massaging his temples but with no luck. He was going to pass out...or his head was going to explode...whichever came first...
Then, as quickly as the headache came, it left. Stan stumbled backwards, holding his head in fear that it would return. He opened his eyes to find his vision blurred slightly, his steps unbalanced. He spun around on his heel to ask Ernie if he had any headache potion, only to trip over his shoes, his face coming into contact with the dirty bus floor.
"Damn it..." he held his now bloody nose, trying to stop the bleeding from hitting his uniform. After casting a quick Episkey to fix his nose and Tergeo to clean up his blood, Stan decided to sit himself on one of the brass beds just behind his partner, Ernie.
Aside from them two, the Knight Bus was deserted. Empty. Desolate. What time was it? It was dark out, so he figured it was either very late at night or early in the morning. He glanced out of one of the windows. Had he fallen asleep or something? How did they end up in Hogsmeade? They were supposed to stick around near London...
"Bit of an odd young thing, wouldn't you say, Shunpike?" Ernie called from his seat in the front of the vehicle. "What did he say his name was again? Potter, was it? Harvey...Harry...Harold...something with an 'H'..."
"What in Merlin's name're you talkin' 'bout?"
Ernie gave Stan one of his famous, 'Are you joking or are you stupid' looks. "'What am I talking about?' That kid who just hopped off, the one who paid this – absolutely beautiful – sack of galleons, the one we just drove with for over two hours!"
Stan gawked at Ernie for a moment before turning his head and walking towards the back. "Oh yeah...him," he said in response to Ernie's ravings.
What am I going to do with this man? thought Stan as he rested his head on one of the stiff mattresses. Honestly, Stan was going to have to place Ernie in a retirement home sometime soon. The old man was going senile...
Now miles away, Harry Potter stood in front of the gates of Hogwarts with the slightest of smirks gracing his pale features. He ran a hand through his jet black hair, letting his fingers graze his lightning bolt scar ever so-slightly.
He took a deep breath before letting himself onto the property. He hoped that Mr. Albus Dumbledore would cooperate with his efforts. It would be much easier if he did, and would take up less of both of their time.
Because Harry Potter never died, and he wanted his life back.
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Nox,
LaughWhileCying