Chapter I
When Remus opened the door to the little flat he had managed to rent for the past two months, he wasn't all that surprised to see a note attached to the doormat. A note - that like a lot of previous notes that were taped to doors, thrown into postboxes, delivered by angry owls or pushed through between floor and door - kindly requested that he left the premises at his earliest convenience or outright threaten him with force if he didn't leave on his own.
Two months were longer than what he usually got. He had actually been able to unpack rather than leave after two days of hoping that his appearance didn't cause the landlord to check with the ministry if he was indeed a werewolf.
Remus brushed a hand through his already graying but still wild and full head brown hair. Carefully he bend down and grabbed the piece of parchment and closed the door quietly behind himself. With tender touches he touched his rips, feeling exhausted - mentally and physically. Last night's full moon had brought out the worst in him and even the Wolfsbane potion that he had been able to afford due to surprisingly well meaning muggle that had offered him a short but well paid job. Not that it mattered. The closer he got to Halloween, the more restless he got. And that in turn had an immense effect on the transformation. The howling of his last transformation in the closely situated Forest of Dean must've been heard for miles.
With a flick of his wand his belongings started packing itself while he made himself a tea that he had gotten from Albus for his last birthday that would supposedly help him recover. He had yet to feel the relief it promised. In a matter of half an hour he would be gone. The only traces of his presence here would be a few footsteps in the dusty hallway.
With wide eyes Harry stared at the weird purple bus. Since when were busses purple, he wondered silently. A little scared by the sudden appearance of the vehicle he pressed Mr. Goggles close to his chest, now grabbing him with two hands and simultaneously shuffling a couple of centimeters away from the bus. A man stepped out of the bus. He had a smile on his lips as he looked down at the small boy. Harry, even though only Dudley was told to stay away from strangers - while he was told that no one was going to be interested anyway, narrowed his green eyes. The old man looked alright, he supposed. He decided that his manners where more important than his fear and whispered a quick "Hullo, sir" and directly averted his eyes when the stare of the man seemed to intensify.
"And hello to you too on this fine morning. Who might you be, little one?"
"I'm Harry, sir."
"And why did you call us then young Harry"
Harry didn't notice how the older man's eyes jumped to his forehead and how his hair did not hide his peculiar shaped scar. And how his eyes took in the raggedy looking clothes.
"I just wanted to catch the firefly, sir. It looked so pretty. And then I fell on my bum when you and your strange looking bus appeared."
Harry managed to stand up and tried to dust of a little of the dirt on his good summer clothes. He looked disgruntled at the dirty patch on the sleeve where he had tried to catch his fall in a puddle.
"Well when a young man, such as you, is all alone we usually come when they feel lonely and need a ride to a safe place. Would you like that?"
Harry couldn't deny that he would very much like to be in a safe place, for he had never really felt really safe.
"That would be terribly kind of you. But I don't think that I should just go with a strange." He frowned and put his hand on his chin like he had seen adults do when they were deciding on something.
"But you know what Harry, we have been talking for a while you see. We're not really stranger, huh?"
Harry had to admit that the man was quite convincing.
"Ok" he said and pulled on this straps of his backpack "Somewhere safe would be really nice."
When Remus arrived in the Leaky Cauldron with his battered old suitcase that held all his belongings, shrunk of course, his first step was to get some hot chocolate from Tom. As took a seat at the counter, Tom had already put a mug of steaming hot chocolate in front of his usual place at the bar.
"Again?" he asked. There was no pity in his voice, only sympathy when Remus nodded and wrapped both of his hands around the mug.
"This time it lasted two months. I should count myself lucky." Not that Remus had actually felt lucky at any given moment of his life since his school years ended.
Tom only shook his head and put a hand on Remus shoulder, gripping it tightly. In a way, Remus thought, he did it to reassure him but as Remus and Tom both knew, it was quite pointless. He appreciated the gesture though. Every single month since he started coming here as a sort of waypoint in between new futile attempts at a steady existence. For it was nothing more than existing that Remus had practiced these last couple of years. Living surely meant something else.
Every once in a while the Knight Bus would pick up the most peculiar people. Usually Terry Jackson Senior, the Senior he thought made the youngsters respect him more, would just wave them in, collect the fare and ignore them for the rest of the evening - or day for that matter.
He had seen quite a few strange occurrences happen in his time as the conductor of the Knight Bus. The strangest though, he thought, must be the sudden appearance of the roughly five year old - yes he could count (a Dark Lord didn't die every day) - boy-who-lived on the pavement outside of a suburb.
He helped the little boy into the bus and sat him in one of the chairs and put the safety belt on, that he had on hand for the usual suspects that would call this vehicle at an ungodly hour and were rather unsteady on their feet.
He told Ernie to just take care of the other passengers first and he would organize the destination for their newest addition. The small boy seemed fascinated with the bus and kept muttering to his teddy bear and taking it all in slowly.
Terry wasn't really sure what to do in this instance. How does one react to finding a national hero on the pavement, he mused. He surely wasn't qualified to decide where he was supposed to go. But since he was by nature a rather suspicious man he discounted the ministry as a possibility. He did not believe that politics were needed now. At least not right now. The boy was very young after all.
He realized that the only way to find a solution to his pesky little hero problem was to consult with someone who had seen a lot and knew very nearly everybody there was to know in Wizarding Britain.
He would just drop of the little boy in the Leaky Cauldron with Tom. He would surely know what to do.
A/N.: Thanks for those really nice reviews I got. I will answer them in time for the next chapter (latest).
I do believe that the views and favorites/follows I got are a sign that some people are enjoying this little tidbit of by imagination.
Like always - Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with the work(s) of one Joanne K. Rowling. Neither do I want to earn money with this, but rather enjoy a wonderful creative break to reality.
Criticism (and or praise - whichever you prefer) is always welcome 3
