Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand and hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want t go. I'm Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening." I intoned as a haggard old wizard shuffled about his pockets. He drew out a small change purse and squinted at me with watery eyes.
"How much to get to Whelhsworth?" He rasped.
I paused, my mind quickly ticking off the miles.
"Twenty sickles." I replied after a moment. "But for another four you can get-"
The old wizard waved a knobby hand and began counting some of his coins. Then deposited them in my hand. I gave them a quick count before dropping them in my pocket. The picked up his suitcase and ushered him aboard.
I looked over at Ern, whom was sleeping against the driving wheel of the bus. Poor Ern. The old dog deserved to retire. But I turned my attention away from him and led the old wizard a few beds back from the front. The old boy probably wouldn't want too much excitement. I shoved his things under the bed and he thanked me before I left.
I wandered up front and lifted a copy of The Daily Prophet out of the newspaper rack, which magically restocked every time a new Daily Prophet was published. I glanced over the front of the paper, reading the headlines. There was a photo of a rather large, frog-like woman on the cover. She was smiling haughtily out at him from the photo, occasionally shifting as if she were sitting in an uncomfortable position.
I glanced of at Ern, who was still asleep. I sighed and gave him a gentle kick with my foot. He woke suddenly, looking around dazed. Then blinked at me.
"Get us t' Welhsworth, Ern." I instructed him.
He nodded, shifting one of the many levers and pressing several buttons on the contraption of a bus. In my years working for this thing, I still hadn't figured out what one button did. Ern seemed to press a different button every time they stopped or started.
With a sigh, I snapped open my newspaper once more and began reading. It went on and on about how the ugly frog-like woman on the front was now teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts class in Hogwarts. Apparently she was a ministry official. I didn't know who to feel sorry for, the people at Hogwarts for having such a wretched creature for a teacher. Creature Teacher. I grinned at my own joke. Oh anyway, or the woman, for choosing the cursed job.
Today was rather slow. Only the old wizard was back there. Well, not only. I was reminded of the Knight Bus's Resident. Just out of curiosity, I wandered to the back, to check on him.
I passed the old wizard, his nose buried in a book. And continued to the back where very few went. I wandered over to the only unmade bed. There was a lump of a man sleeping in it. I don't know what to make of him. He pressed as poorly as a hobo, and looked horribly out of place in the bus's nice sheets.
He'd been there for… Who knew how long? Even Ern didn't know. He'd never woken up, either. Sometimes we wonder if he's magicked or something. Sometimes I get nervous and check on him, to see if he's dead or not. Nope, still snoring. Every now and then I give him a poke. Just to see if he'll wake up.
But I always poke him with a pencil or something. Who knew how long it'd been since he'd bathed? Sometimes I try to guess what's growing under him. Like some fungus or something equally disgusting.
The strange thing about his is that he had no luggage. Everyone had luggage! Nobody even knew where his destination was. Maybe he didn't have one. But then, why did he get on in the first place when he had nowhere to go?
I felt like giving him a poke. For old times sake. But all I had was my newspaper. I hadn't finished reading it, and it'd surely be contaminated if it touched him. But I rolled it up and gave him a little poke. He didn't stir. His snoring pattern didn't even change. Feeling disappointed, I began to wander to the front of the bus again.
As I passed the old wizard, I realized he taken his attention from his book and fixed it on me. He blinked at me. He smiled weakly, revealing about fifty more wrinkles I didn't know he had. He raised a hand and gestured to the contaminated Daily Prophet I still held.
"Could I please read that?"
I looked at him. I had every intention of throwing it away. I really did. But how could I turn down an old man in need?
"Sure, 'ere." I said instead, giving him the paper.
Then I wandered back to the front of the speeding bus, whistling cheerfully.
A/N: I'm sorry this was so dreadfully short and pointless, but the idea just came over me suddenly. So I decided to do it. Well, please review it anyway.