Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. Sigh

Summary: See previous chapters

Chapter Two

Harry's preferred mode of dealing with Aunt Marge was to ignore her and mentally recite a book on broomstick care. Roisin used her long practice with Draco on one of his rants to zone her out.

After the impromptu lesson on Parseltongue insults, Roisin had somehow talked Harry into teaching her the language, and practiced diligently. It was very tone-and-inflection based, with the slightest difference in key changing a word or sentence entirely, almost like learning to speak Japanese.

It was very difficult, but Roisin and Harry somehow managed to survive the next few days without maiming anyone. On the last day of Aunt Marge's visit, however, disaster struck.

Petunia had cooked a large, fancy dinner and several bottles of wine were opened. They managed to make it most of the way through dinner without much fuss, and only a few snide remarks about Harry's many perceived deficiencies, suffered through a long and boring monologue about Grunnings during the lemon meringue pie, and by after-dinner drinks, Roisin had actually started to hope that nothing would happen.

She was wrong. As often happens when one indulges a bit too much in spirits, Aunt Marge had stopped thinking about her words before she blurted them out, not that she ever really considered that in the first place, and failed to notice the obvious signs of Harry's anger at the way she spoke of his parents, and the growing worry as the rest of the Dursley family could only pray that no-one lost control and blew something up.

Aunt Marge finally stopped insulting Aunt Lily, and moved onto her husband, calling him a 'lazy, good-for-nothing scrounger'. At this, Harry had quite obviously had enough, and somehow lost control of his magic.

Roisin watched in horror as her Aunt Marge slowly inflated. The sight, and everyone else's expressions, were almost fascinating, in a decidedly morbid sort of way.

She snapped out of her shock at the sound of Harry thundering down the stairs, dragging his trunk with him. "I've had enough here, Roisin. Someone from the Ministry will probably be coming along soon to fix her. Will you be all right alone here until then?"

Roisin knew that the question was well-meant, but that didn't stop her from leveling a glare at her cousin. "My family is in a state of hysteria, you're about to bolt out of the door, and Ministry Officials will be breaking down the door wanting to know what happened. I am not about to stick around to take the fall for all this if someone reacts badly. We can send Hedwig to Nana once we're out of here."

Roisin dodged past Harry and made a dash for her room to collect her own trunk. Set to leave for Ireland early in the morning the next day, Roisin's trunk was already packed, and with the Lightening Charm Nessa had placed on it last year, it was the work of a few moments to drag it downstairs to where Harry held her father at wand point.

With a moment of regret that she hadn't tried that, overruled by the belief of never making a threat you couldn't carry out, Roisin kicked open the front door and the two cousins made their escape into the night.

They made it to Magnolia Crescent, several streets away, before collapsing on a low wall. Roisin located a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill and wrote a brief letter to her grandmother, only to look around and find a distinct lack of owl. Apparently, Harry had let Hedwig out for a night time hunt just before dinner, and she had not returned before the escape from Privet Drive. Deciding not to voice her thoughts at that moment, Roisin sighed and put away the letter. "So, what do we do now?"

Harry shrugged. "The letter last summer said that I would be expelled if I did any more magic outside of school. I'm trying not to think of how long it will be before they find me and snap my wand."

Roisin gave him a flat look. "It's called 'Home-Schooling', Harry, and don't be daft. Any number of tutors world-wide would jump at the chance to tutor you, and since you didn't use a wand, you can always plead the defense of accidental magic, which does happen occasionally, even as an adult."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You've put a lot of thought into this."

Roisin shrugged. "Slytherin Code of Conduct. 'If someone must be blamed, make sure it's not you.' 'For every rule, there is a loophole.' 'Hope for the best, plan for the worst, and always have a good escape route.' And if you ever tell anyone that I told you about the code, I am legally obliged to hunt you down and kill you."

Harry somehow managed to raise the other eyebrow and blink at the same time. "I'll be worried about the last bit later. Slytherin actually has a code of conduct? I mean, those rules make sense, but I can't imagine any of the other houses doing something like that. But I would have thought there would be a few more snide remarks with those rules."

Roisin narrowed her eyes. "Of course there are. 'Slytherins are not responsible for the stupidity of other Houses' and 'When they say fortune favors the brave, they mean that Gryffindors only survive through sheer luck.'"

Harry looked faintly indignant but before he could reply, he frowned, scanning the surrounding area as if searching for something. Through ten years of living with the Dursleys, Harry had developed a very keen sense for danger and knowing if someone was watching him. Given the events of the last hour, Roisin was willing to trust that instinct. A soft 'lumos' lit the surrounding area, and showed the distinct presence of something large and hulking, with wide, gleaming eyes.

Harry stumbled backwards, tripping over his trunk. Roisin managed to catch him before he fell, but had to duck his flailing wand hand. Of course, she nearly fell over herself when there was a loud bang and a huge purple bus appeared out of nowhere. A young man, who couldn't have been more than a few years out of Hogwarts, jumped off the bus. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand and we'll take you wherever you need to go. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor this evening."

Roisin muttered something rude in parseltongue (as with all non-mandatory foreign languages, she had picked up the swearwords first) and picked up her trunk. "We need to go to Diagon Alley in London. How much would that cost?"

Her less than happy tone shot right over the young man's head. "Eleven sickles, but for thirteen you get hot chocolate, and for fifteen you get a hot water-bottle and a toothbrush in the colour of your choice."

Roisin decided she could skip brushing her teeth this once, and with the way the Knight Bus showed up, she didn't think spill able drinks were such a good idea. Digging in her moneybag, Roisin handed over eleven sickles and climbed on board, leaving Stan to pick up the trunks.

There were no seats on the bus, but rather several beds beside curtained windows. Placing her trunk beside one of the front beds, Roisin was sharply reminded of why she hadn't ordered hot chocolate as the bus lurched forward, sending her sprawling onto the bed. Hissing a suggestion about the driver's immediate ancestry and a not-that-subtle hint about whether or not they had been legitimately wed, Roisin locked her feet around the bedposts, pulled the covers over her head and clung to the mattress, trying to fall asleep.

Note to Self: find whoever owns the Knight Bus or its parent company, and insist that the staff take driving lessons!

By some miracle, Roisin did manage to fall asleep, so she wasn't sure how much time passed before she was gently shaken awake by Harry, telling her that they had arrived. Resolving to never complain about portkeys again, Roisin staggered off the bus, leaning against the wall as Stan Shunpike retrieved their trunks. Trying to re-gain her bearings, Roisin jumped as a voice announced, "There you are, Harry!"

Most of the Slytherins had some very amusing stories about Cornelius Fudge, and Aiden had done an internship at the Irish Ministry, who apparently didn't think much of him. Seeing the Minister face to face, Roisin was forced to agree. Fudge wore a pinstriped cloak and a lime-green bowler hat, and hardly cut an intimidating figure. Biting back a giggle, Roisin went to book a room as Harry and the Minister sorted something out with the Driver and Conductor, returning just in time to see Harry headed to a private parlor.

Roisin followed him in, trying not to fall back asleep where she stood. When Harry finished whatever he was doing, he should at least know where they were staying. Fudge frowned at her as she walked in. "Young lady, this is supposed to be a private…"

Harry cut him off. "It's fine, Minister Fudge. This is my cousin, Roisin O'Conner. She's here with me."

Draco had described Fudge as 'sucking up to anyone with money, power and/or Old Family connections'. As the man hastily back-tracked at the mention of her name, Roisin decided that he had probably been right. "I'm fine, Harry. Listen, we're staying in room twelve, and I'm just going up now. Try not to spend all night down here."

Softening the last remark with a smile, Roisin left the parlor and followed Tom up the stairs to a door with a brass number twelve on it. Thanking the innkeeper and opening the door, Roisin saw two single beds, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire, and a very familiar snowy owl perched on the wardrobe. Fishing the letter she had written earlier out of her trunk, Roisin looked around for a way to coax Hedwig down, didn't see any mice or owl treats, and decided on climbing on a chair to attach the letter to the owl's leg.

Hedwig flew off, and Roisin closed the window behind her. It may have been summer, but the nights were still cold.

Changing into her nightclothes, Roisin chose the bed away from the window and climbed in, savoring the fact that this bed didn't fly all over the place for lack of skilled driving.

She managed to stay awake long enough to hear Harry come up, then fell asleep almost instantly.

It was good to be back in the Magical World, even if her grandmother was likely to throw a fit over running away with no plan of action and staying somewhere like the Leaky Cauldron. Oh well.

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A/N: I am so sorry for the lack of updates and the shortness of this chapter. My only excuses are writers block and a large dose of Real Life getting in the way. Anyway, you know the drill: Review and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is welcomed, flames are laughed at, and if you have any questions I'll try to answer them if you log in or leave an email address.

The Slytherin Code of Conduct can be found at www . greatest journal users / keitorin / 1391.html. Just remove the spaces.

Thanks,

Nat