Author's Note: You'll notice a bit of change to Fudge's character, because I've always felt, at least in books 2 and 3, it was more apparent that Fudge was much more agreeable with Dumbledore than he was later portrayed in GoF and subsequent books. Fudge was always asking Dumbledore for advice, and the simple truth is, you don't advice from people you don't respect. Not to mention I think he had more backbone than later portrayed as well; he stated his opposition when Dumbledore was asked to step down from Hogwarts, and he refused to step down to Voldemort at the beginning of HBP.

Besides, having a more benign and gentle Fudge means it will be more fun to have a ministry turn against Harry when it's led by someone other than Fudge. Won't say anymore about that, but it's going to be a great ride when we get there. (Gandalf's Beard does an excellent Umbridge-led Ministry, for those curious, but I've got someone just as deliciously evil in mind).

As always, hope you enjoy, and it all belongs to Rowling.

Chapter Three: Split-Pea Soup

Harry did not care for the Knight Bus. He didn't like the lack of proper chairs or safety restraints, especially after Ernie had pulled back on the several levers protruding from the dash which then sent the bus lunging forward as though a rocket had been fastened where the exhaust had once been. However, he had received a warm welcome from Stan and the bus driver, Ernie, both of whom had almost immediately recognized the lightning bolt scar once Harry had settled in on his bed.

"Well bless my soul, if it isn't Harry Potter," Ernie had said once he'd adjusted his telescopic glasses. "Stan, give Mr. Potter his money back."

"Thank you, but that's not necessary," protested Harry. "You got me out of a tight spot; I'm more than happy to pay."

"Way I see it, Mr. Potter," countered Ernie, "is that you got the whole bleedin' world out of something much worse than a tight spot. So long as I'm drivin' this bus, you won't pay a Knut." Reluctantly, then, Harry had taken the coins Stan presented him with and stuffed them into his jeans pocket.

Once the bus was moving, though, gravity appeared to function properly. Harry was able to sit upright on his bed with little disturbance. He was fascinated at how the bus easily maneuvered through the narrow streets and slipped impossibly between oncoming traffic. He truly loved magic when it was displayed in this manner. Stan had an open copy of the Daily Prophet, his eyes darting in untraceable directions, which hadn't surprised Harry, being familiar with the paper's eccentric layout. However, it was man framed on the cover of the paper that jolted Harry back to his senses.

"Sirius Black," he said, the hairs on the back of his neck standing again, "He was on the Muggle news this morning." Stan furrowed his brows at Harry, turning the paper over for a moment, nodded, and handed him the paper.

"Nasty business, Sirius Black," said Stan with a low whistle. "Wouldn't want to meet him in an alleyway." Harry shifted uncomfortably as he took the paper. He wasn't about to admit he'd done more than see Black.

BLACK DOES THE IMPOSSIBLE

DARK ARTS OR AN INSIDE JOB?

By: Rita Skeeter

Sirius Black, among the most infamous prisoners to be held in Azkaban fortress, was confirmed this morning as having escaped the isolated prison, and most notably, the Azkaban guards. More worryingly, however, is that Black is now likely on the main island.

"Last night, it was brought to my attention that noted mass murder, Sirius Orion Black, escaped from his prison cell sometime just past midnight," said Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, during a lengthy and emergency press conference this morning. "The Ministry had already taken several actions to ensure the recapture of Black as quickly as possible."

Among the several actions the Ministry is taking, the Minister was reported as having met with the Muggle Prime Minister, alerting the entirety of Muggle Britain about Black's escape. This was met with severe criticism by many prominent members of the Wizengamot, notably, Lucius Malfoy, as well as select members of the International Federation of Warlocks.

"Those of us familiar with Black's history recognize the immediacy and responsibility to alert anyone who might come into contact with him," Fudge said to reporters. "Sirius Black, despite his incarceration over the last decade and then some was once among the Ministry's top Aurors, and, frighteningly, has discovered some way of slipping past the Azkaban guards without notice, remains a terrible and credible treat."

Fudge further assured the magical community that the Muggle Prime Minister has given his word not to breathe a word of Black's true identity.

"Let's face the truth; who'd believe him if he did anyway?"

Albus Dumbledore, acting in his capacity as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was among the few who rose to Fudge's defense.

"It is my belief, that truth is preferable to lies, or false comfort," the old wizard told reporters. "I extend my full-hearted endorsement with the Minister's decision to alert the whole population of Britain. While some in my chamber, and elsewhere, have argued the Minister's decision is a breach to the Statute of Secrecy, I remind all of the magical community that it is our responsibility to see to the safety of our Muggle brethren, which, incidentally, was brought into being to provide safety to Muggles and Wizard-folk mutually, and not to the exclusivity of the magical community."

Albus Dumbledore, was unable to assure those dissenting within the Wizengamot, and it's easy to see why when one looks closely. One wonders if the strain and pressure of the many prestigious and powerful positions Dumbledore currently holds hasn't yet addled his brains. Once heralded as the greatest wizard of modern times, and most famously known for his defeat of Grendelwald, it would appear to the magical community that Dumbledore may be losing his touch and his senses.

Despite the Minister's assurances, this reporter remains skeptical. Still, it cannot be denied the Minister has cause to take all the precautions he thinks necessary. The magical community is likewise right to be fearful in light of Black's escape and the possible exposure of our world to the Muggles. Many of our readers will remember all-to-well the massacre in Muggle London twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

How did Black escape Azkaban? No one has ever done so since the Dementors were placed at the prison after the fall of You-Know-Who. Is Black's escape the work of his own Dark Arts expertise, or is there more to this escape? Black was a known supporter of You-Know-Who—as were the Dementors—so it begs to question if Black's escape wasn't an inside job to begin with. This reporter will do all in her power to find out.

Harry looked back at the haunted face of Sirius Black. He'd never seen anyone look more dead on their feet than this man.

"Frightenin', isn't he," said Stan, taking the paper back from Harry.

"He murdered thirteen people," asked Harry, "with one curse?"

"Oh yeah," said Stan, whistling again. "Broad daylight, center of London, all in front of dozens o' witnesses. Caused a right mess of trouble for ol' Bagnold, didn't it, Ern?"

"Aye," said Ern with a shiver. "Happened right after You-Know-Who disappeared. Minister Bagnold was completely blind-sided. Heck, everyone was, you know—the dark days were over, they thought—then, whole loads of innocent people, gone in a flash. They never did say what curse was used, but, it was nasty."

"Wasn't nothin' left o' those poor people," said Stan. "Half the street was gone too. Gas explosion, they told the Muggles. Wiped their memories first, o' course, but that wasn't the wors' of it."

"What could be worse than murdering thirteen people," asked Harry.

"He laughed," said Stan, shrugging his shoulders. "Jus' sat there on his knees, hands up in the air, wand dropped on the ground, and laughed. He didn' put up a fight with the Aurors—just kept on laughing. He's a mad man, isn't he, Ern?"

"If we wasn't before Azkaban, he is now," said Ernie with a shiver. "I'd blow myself up before I'd set foot in that place."

Harry sat quietly after that, his mind playing over and over his brief meeting with Black. Why hadn't Black just killed him? He'd done much worse before, in broad daylight. But he at least had some answer as to why Black knew who he was. He had been one of Voldemort's. Had Black blamed him for the demise of his master? Even if that were true, the question remained; why hadn't Black killed him?

The Knight Bus made several more stops in various places throughout Britain, unnoticed by Muggles. Witches and Wizards alike descended from the spiral staircase above as they reached each destination, each looking very glad to disembark from the bus. Finally, Harry was the only one left on board.

"Leaky Cauldron is our next stop," said Ernie, with a nod back to Harry. With a final bang and powerful lunge forward, the Knight Bus whisked off into the blurry night. It wasn't more than a minute before the Bus came to a screeching halt in the dark alleyway where the Leaky Cauldron quietly waited. Stan dislodged himself from his seat, as did Ernie, both shaking his hands and expressing once more their honor for escorting Harry to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry pulled out the coins once more, before they could protest and stuffed them into the coin slot by the driver seat.

"For the next passenger," said Harry quickly. "Just don't tell them it was from me." Ernie gave him a toothy smile and a final nod as Stan tended to Harry's trunk. Harry stepped down from the bus only to find a shadow standing the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron.

"There you are, Harry," said the voice from the shadow. The stranger stepped out into the lamp light, wearing a green pinstriped cloak and matching bowler hat. Harry had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minster for Magic himself.

"What'cha looking for 'Arry, for, Minister," asked Stan.

"Not really the concern of the Knight Bus, is it," said the Minister politely, but with a tone of finality. "But I thank you for bringing Mr. Potter safely to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry, if you'd follow me inside? It's best we not linger outside overly long, given, well, the current state of things."

"See you, 'Arry," said Stan with a short wave as the Knight Bus exploded into motion again and swiftly disappeared into the thin air whence it came. The Minster placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and guided him sternly and swiftly into the pub, having already enchanted Harry's luggage to levitate behind them.

The pub was mostly vacated; Tom the barman tended the counter while the night staff cleaned the tables. The clock on the wall told Harry it was quickly approaching midnight.

"You've got him, Minister," said Tom, looking up. "Thank goodness."

"Yes, yes," said the Minister. "The Knight Bus picked him up."

"Will you be wanting anything, Minister," asked Tom. "Beer, or perhaps your favorite Brandy?"

"Not tonight, Tom," said Fudge with a small smile. "Perhaps just some tea, and ah, yes, some of your Split-Pea Soup and Crumpets for Mr. Potter and myself?" He gave Harry a quick wink and led him up the stairs and into a well-prepared room with an already lit fire. Fudge took a seat at the large desk nestled beneath a crooked window and proceeded to offer Harry a seat as well.

"Please, take a seat, Harry," he said, his tone surprisingly light and friendly. Tom entered the room not a moment later, an apron hung hastily over his nightshirt and with a tray of tea, steaming soup bowls, and crumpets.

"Thank you, Tom," said Fudge.

"My pleasure, Minister, Mr. Potter," he said, bowing low before leaving the room. Fudge immediately poured them both a cup of tea, and buttered a crumpet for himself before speaking again.

"Apologies if I've startled you, Harry, but I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic." Harry found himself unable to speak, so he merely nodded and smiled, meanwhile ignoring the frantic pace of his heart. He should be on his way to Azkaban for the magic he had performed so short while ago.

"Well, Harry, you'll be delighted to know that Miss Marjorie Dursley has been attended to by the Accidental Magical Reversal Department. She has been safely punctured and her memory modified. She will have no recollection of the incident what-so-ever."

Harry tried to say 'good,' but words were still failing him.

"Ah, you are worried about your relatives reaction," said Fudge knowingly. "Well, Harry, they are certainly displeased, but as we have explained to them, accidental magic happens to the best of young wizards and witches. I would suggest you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays, to let tempers cool."

"I always do," said Harry, finding his voice.

"Every family has their disagreements, Harry," said Fudge with a nod. "It's natural. Now, all that remains is to decide where you're going to spend the last few weeks of your summer break, I would suggest a room here, at the Leak Cauldron. Tom would be more than happy to see you attended too."

"You aren't taking me to jail," asked Harry, his outburst a surprise even to him.

"Jail," asked Fudge, his eyes brows jumping in surprise. "Why would you be going to jail, Harry?"

"I broke the law," said Harry. "The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry!"

"Harry, you did accidental magic," said Fudge. "The Ministry does not go about throwing people in Azkaban for a bit of emotional magic, particularly from a wizard or witch early in training."

"But what about the Illumination Spell, and the Disarming Hex I used back on Magnolia Crescent?"

"The Ministry is overlooking those instances," began Fudge, who still maintained his gentle smile. "It is quite clear that any spell work you performed were the results of panic and desperation, having already contended with the undoubtedly traumatic experience with your aunt. I confess I'm curious as to why you felt need to perform a Disarming Hex in the first place."

"I saw him, Minister," said Harry after a moment.

"Saw who?"

"Sirius Black," said Harry. The pinkish hue of Fudge's cheeks whitened immediately.

"You're sure, Harry," said Fudge, losing his jovial tone. He tapped his wand to the parchment on his desk and immediately, a quill dabbed itself into an open ink bottle and began scribbling notes.

"I felt like someone was watching me, following me," said Harry. "I did the only thing I knew how too, knowing it was my only chance, only I didn't think it was Sirius following me."

"I see," said Fudge, resting his chin on his clasped hands. "You thought it was us following you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I broke the law and was running away."

"Did Black speak to you, Harry, or do anything? Any detail is important."

"He knew my name," said Harry. "He seemed, I dunno, hurt when I asked him how he knew my name—I'd only seen him on the television that morning. He said I had good reflexes, and something about 'them not telling me,' whatever that was about. Then he drew his wand on me."

"I was afraid he'd procure a wand," said Fudge solemnly. "What did he do then, Harry?"

"I thought he'd kill me for sure," said Harry. "But he waved his wand—didn't hear the spell because he didn't say one—and I was pushed back and tripped over my trunk. That's when the Knight Bus appeared."

"Merlyn's beard, said Fudge. "Harry, do you realize how lucky you are to be sitting here right now? We are fortunate indeed that the Knight Bus turned up when it did. That was quick thinking on your part, calling them."

"But I didn't know I'd called them," said Harry. "I didn't even know the Knight Bus existed before tonight. Stan explained it to me once I'd gotten aboard. If Black hadn't sent me over my trunk, I wouldn't have raised my wand arm…"

"Then we are lucky indeed," said Fudge. He looked over to the parchment and nodded.

"Er, Minister," asked Harry.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Certainly," said Fudge, turning his attention back to Harry.

"I know I'm famous for this scar," said Harry, as he searched for the right words, "and practically everyone knows who I am, but, something about the way Black spoke to me, it just, well, does Black have any particular interest in me? It seems strange that I'd be the first one to come across an escaped convict from Azkaban." Fudge looked at Harry with an expression he knew well, for he'd seen it many times; pity.

"Well, Harry," began Fudge with a deep breath, "I'm not sure I'm the right person to speak about this, but I'll tell you what I can." He got up and walked around the desk, gave his wand a flick and another identical chair appeared next to Harry's. He took that seat, removed his bowler hat and poured another cup of tea.

"I don't suppose you've had an opportunity to read the Prophet, have you," he asked.

"I did," said Harry, "on the Knight Bus."

"I was one of the first responders to Muggle London after Black had blown up half the street. It was a terrible sight, just terrible. The war had ended, or so we thought. Black's massacre was the first of several other horrific reactions by You-know-Who's remaining faithful after he'd disappeared. Black was one of his most faithful, devoted followers, Harry, and he'd stop at nothing to see you dead."

"But why," asked Harry.

"For any number of reasons," said Fudge sadly. "I don't say this to frighten you, but to give you caution. There are several of You-Know-Who's followers locked away at Azkaban that would be only too happy to be given the same chance Black let slip this evening. A lot of prisoners go mad if they are in Azkaban for an extended period of time; it's a truly terrible place, Harry, truly terrible, but for criminals like Black, well, it's no less than they deserve. The families they ripped apart, the thousands of innocents they tortured and murdered, well, you yourself have suffered from their cruelty. It is my belief, Harry, that Black is convinced he can bring You-Know-Who back to power again if you are defeated, just as you once defeated the Dark Lord. Its madness, silly, deranged thought, but that doesn't matter to Black. To him, he lost everything the night You-Know-Who lost his powers, and he, like so many of his kind, holds you responsible for that loss. I know it's a lot to take in at such as age, but, you deserve to know you are a target."

"Now, as I said earlier," Fudge continued, standing again, "I'll have Tom prepare a room for you until the end of your summer holiday. You're free to explore Diagon Alley, but I have to ask you not to stray out into Muggle London. We can't protect you as well there. Ask Tom if you should need anything." Fudge checked the notes his quill had jotted down and proceeded to leave the room, but not before he spun on his heels and addressed Harry a final time.

"I'll be sending a correspondence to Dumbledore, Harry, since he's your magical guardian, and he'll no doubt wish to speak with you when you return to Hogwarts. There are more complicated matters regarding Sirius Black, and he is the one who should tell you." Having said his final sentiments, Fudge waltzed from the room, leaving Harry to his thoughts.