The gaol door slammed shut behind them. The two boys were the only people in the cell, and it felt like something out of an old Western. They could hear the one bobbie talking to the other. "What are we gonna do with those two rascals?"

"Nothin' much to do, if you ask me. Just call Protective Services, and see what they'll do."

"Better at least ask them if they've got family."

"You saw what they had with them, didn't ya?"

"Still, better to ask."

Outside the cell, the bobbie appeared, asking, "You don't have any relatives we can call, now do you?"

Harry shook his head, saying, "No, my parents died in a car crash."

"How'd you get this far out, anyway?" the bobbie asked suspiciously.

"We were living with our aunt, until she passed away when we were on vacation." Harry said, trying to come up with a lie that would fit. "We're just trying to get home. There's a few neighbors that would take us in; we'll work for our keep."

Draco was trying to be small, as the bobbie considered the tale. "Where do you live, then? Could give you a ride...?"

"That's the thing..." Harry said, starting to stammer, "It's the fourth stop after Newcastle, and then a half mile and two rights, but..." Harry scuffed his shoe, "I'd know it if I saw it!"

The bobbie nodded, considering, "Still gotta call Protective Services, I do. Can't let you go around the entire countryside, thievin' and what not. Wouldn't be proper."

The bobbie walked away then, and after a while, they heard the door slam, and then perfect silence.

"I think we can talk now," Harry said.

"What's the plan? Why'd you tell them that your aunt was dead?" Draco Malfoy said, not bothering to pitch his voice high as a girl's.

"Anything's better than my relations." Harry said, smirking painfully. "Even yours."

"Can't be," Draco Malfoy said, with absolute certitude.

"If we go to an orphanage, we can probably just run away from there." Harry said, "And it's likely to be further South than this, too..."

Until the big black dog came. There is nothing so piteous, nor pathetic, as a dog's whine when it cannot reach its master. They could hear it scrabbling at the window (too far off the ground to jump to), it's nose occasionally pressed through the bars, as if it knew where they were, and just wanted to help get them out.

The dog had curled up to sleep, as it was getting late in the day, when the bobbies had come back. They set about doing paperwork, and still hadn't called Protective Services. Harry counted that as a potential victory. One day at a time, as the saying goes.

[a/n: review?]