August 6, 1993 8:52 P.M.

So much for keeping his temper under control. Harry didn't think things could possibly get any worse, seeing as now he was on the run from blowing up his Aunt Marge. And as much as Harry tried to regret what he'd done to her, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. A full week of Marge's constant torments, jabs, and comments about him were bad enough, but to say his parents weren't good people. To lie about their sacrifice, and say they were a drunk and whore was to much for him to take.

As he walked down towards the playground at the end of Private Drive though, he realized through his anger that he had nowhere to go. Thinking quickly, Harry thought he might be able to get to Gringots before they learn he's a criminal, and take the rest of the gold out of his vault. Before he could question how he'd get to London, he watched as a large dog appeared. Compared to Marge's dog, it was gigantic, almost coming up to Harry's stomach. It calmly approached him, placing it's head into Harry's hand so he'd pet him. Harry was happy to oblige, rubbing the thick coat of black fur.

"Guess we both have no one to turn to, eh boy?" Harry jokingly asked. The dog whined with somber look in it's eyes, and Harry got the impression that his words were true. Just then Harry felt as if there was something coming up behind him, so he spun around, drawing his wand in the process. Only to get knocked to his feet with a loud BANG!

As he picked himself off the ground he turned to see a blue double decker bus that looked out of place for some reason. That is until he read the name on the side.

The Knight Bus

Before he could question it, the door opened to reveal a skinny man with light facial hair and a uniform that didn't seem to fit him properly, or maybe he just didn't like keeping up his appearance.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for a stranded Witch or Wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening," the man Harry now knew to be Stan, reading off a small slip of paper. Then stuffing it in his jacket pocket, before looking at Harry.

"Well, yous need'n a ride or wha?" the conductor said to him.

"Eh, how much?" asked Harry. Very aware of the mere 2 galleons in his bag.

"What you mean, same price as always. Seven sickles, you never rode wit' us before?" Stan asked.

"Just making sure the price hadn't changed," Harry said, thinking quickly.

"Well come on 'en, gotta be movin' on." Stan told him.

Harry handed Stan a galleon, and when Harry said keep the change, Stan stood a little straighter. After loading his trunk, he heard the conductor say something before, BANG!, the bus was off with Harry strangely thanking Oliver Wood for the extra practice. Or he never would have kept his balance.

"What did ya say your name was, again?" Stan asked as he handed Harry his ticket.

"I didn't!" Harry said in a hurry. Realizing his mistake, "It's Neville Longbottom!" Hoping Neville wouldn't mind.

"Well Neville, where you headed?"

"The Leaky Cauldron in London," thinking they'd upcharge for such a long trip.

"A'ght, your trip will be over in about 10 minutes. Sorry 'bout the wait, but we 'Ave other stops 'fore we get there." said Stan casually.

Harry stood there confused, did Stan not hear him correctly? There's no way they'd be there in only 10 minutes, even as fast as the bus seemed to be going. Sure enough, though, a short time later they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

"Thank you both for the trip," Harry said politely.

"Course, you take care now," the smile on Stan's face made Harry think they didn't often get thanks.

BANG!

The Knight Bus was gone in an instant. He didn't have time to put on his cloak like he planned, before someone walked out of the pub, seen him and stopped.

It was middle aged woman, though she had a stern look to her face that reminded him eerily of Professor McGonagall. Her hair was red, but not Weasley red. It also carried some grey in it, though the lack of lines on her face seemed to indicate they were stress related. She looked at him for a few seconds before stating, "There you are Mr. Potter."

Bloody hell, he thought to himself. They've caught me, now my wand will be snapped, I'll never see my friends again, I'll be loc-

"You gave us quite the scare, we thought your relatives had done something to you after your burst of accidental magic. Good to see you are safe, and sound," she said cutting off his thoughts.

Of course, Harry eloquently responded.

"Huh?"

A ghost of smirk appeared on her face, "That was the same look James would get when Lily would catch him in the middle of something."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked reflexively. He couldn't help it, seeing as he knew next to nothing about them.

"Briefly, I had almost a decade on them, so I only interacted with them for a short time. Seeing as our houses are aligned," said Amelia.

"Wait, what do y-," Harry didn't have time to ask what she meant by that, as a portly man walked out of the pub, wearing pinstripe robes, and holding an awful looking lime green bowler.

"Harry my boy! You are safe, thank goodness for that!" the man said, shaking Harry's hand vigorously, making him distinctly uncomfortable.

"Minister, is here the time and place for this?" the woman questioned.

"Oh, right you are Madam Bones. We can't take any chances with Black about," the man Harry now knew to be the Minister of Magic himself.

"Who?" asked Harry.

Both turning to him, Madam Bones said, "Surely your guardians informed you of Sirius Black's escape?"

The Dursleys wouldn't talk to me unless the absolutely had to, thought Harry to himself, or give me chores, or degrade me.

"Excuse me?" asked Madam Bones.

Oops, he hadn't meant to say that out loud. Quickly covering up his accidental complaint, "Nothing, they mentioned it, just in passing. Why would we be concerned about a muggle killer that's nowhere near here?"

The frown Madam Bones had from the earlier comment deepened.

"Mr. Potter, Black is a wizard, as for why you should be conc-"

"No reason, other than generally speaking of course!" the Minister quickly interjected. "Black is a madman though, and we don't want there to be undue danger where there shouldn't be."

Harry didn't think that was the only reason, as Bones looked at the Minister with a questioning gaze.

"Now, in you go! Room Eleven is already set up for you," the Minister told him a little too cheerfully. It reminded him of how excited his Uncle had gotten when he thought they had escaped the barrage of owls with his first Hogwarts letter.

"Oh, and don't worry about your Aunt, she's already been fixed with her memory altered! It was just accidental magic, no need to kick up a fuss!"

Confused, Harry could only walk on autopilot towards the room he was told. From what he could hear, they continued to talk, but he was to far into his own thoughts to listen. Why would Sirius Black be after him? And if he was, why wasn't anyone giving him a reason why? Maybe because Black was a devout follower of Voldemort, and he'd want to avenge his master. But if that was true, why hide it from him? It's not like he couldn't figure it out on his own. Harry's mind kept going through all the possibilities of the reasons a mad murderer would be after him, (Well a SECOND mad murderer I suppose), he walked to his room not paying attention until he opened the door, and a fluttering of feathers drew him from his thought.

"Hedwig!" he nearly shouted. He had let his beloved familiar out when he was leaving the Dursleys. He certainly didn't expect to see her again this soon.

"Suppose you had more foresight than I did, huh girl?" stroking her feathers. She nipped at his ear affectionately, before flying back to the provided perch. Placing his trunk at the foot of the bed, he thought back to just an hour ago when he thought he had lost his connection to the Wizarding World for good. His friends, wand, knowledge, and his way away from the Dursleys, all seemingly gone because he'd lost his temper once more. Even if his scar caused him some irritation from time to time, and the Dursleys constant bad mouthing him and his parents, Harry decided he wasn't going to risk it again. He wouldn't risk losing his connection to magic, because he couldn't control a temper tantrum. Most importantly though, he refused to lose his only real connection to his parents.

This thought brought him to his trunk once more where he pulled out the photo album Hagrid had given him at the end of his first year. Smiling as he flipped through the pictures, he stopped on the one of his parents dancing in a public park. The magic making the picture move as if it was still happening, smiling at him, holding each other close. Lily's red hair was blowing gently as she was spun. around repeatedly, all the while smiling brightly as if she didn't have a care in the world. And at that moment, she probably didn't. James held her with a firm grip, with a grin on his face that teased mischief, but also love and adoration for the woman in front of him. Both of them spun around once more before coming to a brief stop long enough to wave at the camera, and hug before they went back to dancing. So young, probably not long before they left school or found out Harry was going to be born.

Seeing this brought tears to Harry's eyes, though he was smiling widely. He had always wanted nothing more than to see them in the flesh, even if it was briefly. To tell them of his adventures so far with his friends, and tell them both how much he loved them, despite never truly meeting them. To find out if they were proud of who he was becoming. For as much as the professors of Hogwarts praised him for his occasional accomplishments, despite holding himself back, it was not the same.

This thought brought him to a pause, as he thought about those two things. The first made him think about what Dumbledore said after he had stopped Quirrell from getting the stone.

"After all, to a well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure," he repeated quietly to himself.

Harry would see his parents again one day, that he knew. Though he wasn't going to let it be soon, and to do that he had to stop relying on luck. He knew he hadn't escaped from Quirrell in his first year by his own merits. It was because of his mother's sacrifice' and the headmaster's cleverness that he was even alive today. Granted he was was first year, and had no knowledge he would be attacked that year. The following year was not so true. If he had been learning more after finding out there was a danger, he could have been better prepared. Down in the chamber, if Fawkes had not come to him with the sorting hat, then blinding the basilisk, Harry would be dead. Not including the tears that he shed in order to save him from the basilisks venom. He wouldn't allow himself to continue on this way. If not for himself, then for his parents in order to honor their sacrifice.

This brought him to his second thought. In order to make his parents proud, he would have to do the best he could. Both to survive, and to do his family justice. Harry thought he could probably ask professor Dumbledore or professor McGonagall about his parents possessions, so that he may learn more about them.

Until then, however, I have some work to do. Harry thought to himself.

Pulling out his school books from the last two years, with the exception of Lockhearts books, he began to re read what he had previously learned. To understand magic more clearly if he could, and to be better prepared. That way once he faced danger again, if his school record was anything to go by, he would be ready to at the very least put up a strong fight. Harry was done being weak, and for the sake of himself and others around him, he wouldn't be so much longer.

Sorry for the wait. I've a bad habit of procrastination, bit I am committed to seeing this through. Once again, shoutout to TheBlack'sResurgence for much of the inspiration that comes my way with such excellent work.