« 𝙼𝚊𝚐𝚗𝚞𝚜 »
Tuptsky decided to depart with us when we reached muggle Wiltshire. It was dark by the time we got there; luckily there weren't too many muggles milling about. We stopped in an abandoned park to say our goodbyes.
"Here, take these." I held out a bag of galleons and the robes I'd stolen from the Rich Twit to him.
Tuptsky took the money, but eyed the robes wearily. "It does not free me if you are not part of the Master's family," he said bitterly.
"Yeah, but you can take them anyway."
He eyed me like he thought I was trying to fool him. I guessed the Rich Twit must have played cruel jokes on him like that, which only served to make me hate the Malfoys more.
"Please? I don't really want them. Plus, it gets really cold at night, and they'll keep you warm."
Tuptsky grunted, but he took the robes, tucking them under his arms. He looked relieved when I didn't yank them away before he could get them. I was glad he was running away. No one deserved a life like his, especially if they were forced to work for people like the Malfoys.
"Thank you, thief."
"I have a proper name, you know," I said. "It's Magnus." I pointed at my sister. "She's Tilly Matilda."
She clicked her tongue, making a finger gun at the elf. In the dark it looked creepier than it should have, but, then again, I always think my sister looks creepy.
[She just hit me! Rude.]
Tuptsky tilted his head upwards in acknowledgement, but otherwise his response was just, "Ah."
"Where will you go now?"
Tilly was eyeing Tuptsky, chewing the inside of her cheek by the looks of it. Her face was mostly hidden in the shadows, but I could still see her shifting her weight from foot to foot. That was always a clear indicator that my sister was anxious. I knew she didn't want to leave him stranded in the middle of a muggle city anymore than I did. Most muggles weren't used to seeing elves sitting next to them on the Underground, and might have caused problems for our new friend. Or even worse, the Malfoys might track him down and force him to come back with them. That was the last thing anyone wanted.
"I think it is best if I do not say," Tuptsky said. "Plausible deniability."
"Yeah, or safer for you in case we try to turn around and rat you out," I added.
"You will not," he said, sounding sure of himself.
"You don't know that," I told him. "You've only just met us."
"You have stolen from the Masters. You can not give me away without giving yourself away."
"Fair point."
Tilly was fiddling with the sleeves of her new fancy robes, which she refused to take off. The shoulder was still sliding off, and she looked something like a child trying not to start crying. "But… you do have somewhere to go, don't you?"
Tuptsky looked thoughtful for a moment, apparently deciding how much to tell us. Either that or he was second guessing if he did have a place to go. Maybe that was why he really didn't want to tell us anything. There was nothing to tell. I was starting to get the feeling his decision to run away was a spur of the moment thing and not something he had carefully planned out.
"I do," he eventually decided.
Tilly nodded, looking more relaxed, but I still worried. I know it was odd, caring so much for someone you just met, but I couldn't shake the feeling something bad was going to happen to him as soon as we parted ways. I just didn't know how to tell him this; besides, it wasn't like we lived anywhere safer than wherever he was going. Bad stuff happened all the time on the streets.
At least, he had a plan. He could take care of himself.
That's what I kept telling myself, anyway.
"Well… just be careful, alright?" I said. "I'm not sure how desperate the Malfoys are to keep their… uh… you know…"
Tuptsky gave a curt nod in return. "Goodbye, Thieves."
"We'll meet again," I said. "Don't know where, don't know when…"
I was still feeling pretty lousy about departing, but somehow Vera Lynn made things a little easier. The confused look on the elf's face was priceless. 'Suppose muggle music could be his next research project.
"But I know we'll meet again some sunny day!" Tilly sang, finishing the lyrics for me.
Tuptsky gave us a look that read, 'These kids are mad,' did a little salute, and, then, disappeared in the blink of an eye.
If you've never witnessed apparition before, you might have just assumed the loud crack that accompanied it was a gun fire, but it was perfectly normal. You get used to it after a bit and don't even notice… well, almost. It's still very loud. And ear-piercing, and… alright, so maybe you don't get used to it. Ever. It's pretty much always annoying.
Tilly slipped her wand from her sleeve, frowning at the place Tuptsky had just been. "Wish we could do that. Really hate taking the bus…"
I followed her out of the park, stopping a little ways away from the curb. "As your loving brother, I tell you this out of the kindness of my heart "
"Your heart has kindness?"
" I wouldn't trust you to apperate me anywhere."
She made a face at me and held her wand arm out to hail our ride back into London. We didn't have to wait long. With another loud bang! and the screech of tires on the pavement, our transportation had pulled to a stop in front of us: a big, purple, triple-decker bus, gleaming in the moonlight.
The engine could have been heard from miles away if anyone were listening; the light fixtures didn't do much of anything except give me a heachache. They cast beams over the shadowy side walk, flashing brightly against the darkness. The sign over the windshield was especially bad. It always took me a minute to read, even though Tilly and I had used this method of travel many times and I already knew it was the name of the bus. It was just that the golden lettering was murder on dyslexic eyes.
The bus' whole getup was a bit obnoxious, but it got you where you needed to go in one piece… uh, more or less.
The conductor, Stan Shunpike, jumped out of the bus wearing a bright, purple suit that Tilly absolutely hated. She pretended to faint every time she saw it. He wasn't much older than we were, eighteen, nineteen, and had a bad acne problem. Not that he seemed to notice or care much about that.
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the strandid witch or wizard. Stick out your wand arm, come aboard, and we'll take you anywhere you want to go! My name is oh, eetz you two again!"
"Hi, Stan," I said.
Tilly was too busy leaning on me, fanning herself, and all around being a dramatic idiot over his choice in attire to greet him.
"Back to London, then?" Stan asked.
"Yeah."
I shoved Tilly off me and paid him for the trip.
"Tha's where Neville is goin' too."
Stan ushered us on to the bus, babbling away as usual. It was very custom for the Knight Bus employees to move at an unbelievably fast pace, which was a very nice trait for getaway drivers to have.
The interior of the Knight Bus didn't look like a normal bus. Instead of seats, there were bedsteads sat beside the curtained windows. On the wood-paneled walls, hanging in brackets, candles lit the place up.
Not sure what wizards had against electricity, but whatever.
There were only two other passengers on the bus that I could see. In the back, there was a small wizard in a nightcap, snoozing away, and at the front there was a boy our age.
"You two know Neville?" Stan gestured at the boy in the front. He was trying to duck down so we couldn't see him, but that just made him even more noticeable.
Turns out, I did know this kid, but his name wasn't Neville. The lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead made that much clear.
"Oh, that's actually "
He caught my eye and shook his head. I didn't know why he would have lied about his name, but he looked pretty desperate to keep up the charade. I mean, he must have had a good reason, anyway; at least, in his mind. In any case, I didn't make a habit of messing up other people's shenanigans. So, I kept his secret.
"I mean… yeah, we know him."
Stan was a bit thick in the head, so he didn't seem to notice the abrupt change in my statement. He just nodded, grinning wide. "Thought you might. Bet you're the same year at 'Ogwarts, a'int'cha? 'Ere, you 'ave these ones."
He gestured for Tilly and I to sit on the two beds closest to Not-Neville. Guess, he just assumed we were all mates because we went to school together. Like I said, he was a bit thick.
Stan moved to sit in the empty armchair at the front of the bus. "Take 'er away, Ern!"
Ernie Prang was the Knight Bus' driver. He was an elderly wizard with thick glasses. The man looked like he might have keeled over dead any second; I was surprised he could still drive. Though, that statement might have been a bit generous, since Ernie had a bad lead foot.
There was another bang! and the tires squealed, smoke emitting from the back end of the bus as he took off; the bed's swiveled and jerked around with the abrupt movement. Outside, the scenery sped by in a blur, the Knight Bus moving at the speed of sound.
I was used to Ernie's terrible driving skills, but even so I only just had enough time to grab hold of the bed rail to keep myself from flying across the room. Tilly had her feet wrapped around the leg of the bed and her hand over her mouth like she was going to vomit. Not-Neville clearly wasn't as used to the Knight Bus' pace; he didn't have time to grab hold of anything and was thrown back, flat on to his bed.
I didn't laugh. That would have been rude, and I am very nice.
After a second, we slowed down, now on a completely different road, but we were still speeding down the streets at unnecessary speed.
Not-Neville sat up and looked out the window, which was a bold move, because Ernie's driving could break your neck if you weren't careful.
I was convinced he was nearsighted. Tilly didn't believe me, but if it wasn't for the fact that the things in the bus' way (i.e. lampposts, cars, mailboxes, etc.) jumped out of the way as we passed by, I was sure he'd have plowed straight through them.
"This is where we was before you flagged us down," Stan told us. "Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"
"Ar," Erine confirmed with a short nod.
"How come the muggles don't hear the bus?" Not-Neville asked.
Another bold move. I was never brave enough to speak while the Knight Bus was in motion, too afraid I might bite my tongue off.
"Them!" Stan laughed. "Don' listen properly, do they? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'."
Not-Neville didn't respond, because he was thrown against the wall again. I'm not saying it was funny, but it was pretty funny.
"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan."
For one horrifying moment, Ernie glanced away from the road to look at his co-worker. The bus swerved over the sidewalk, narrowly missing a lamppost only because it leapt out of the way in the nick of time. Inside, the beds slid over the floor, and I almost lost my grip on the bed rail.
"We'll be in Abergavenny in a minute."
I'm not sure if Stan had his shoes charmed or if he had just mastered the art of walking at such high speeds, but either way he somehow made it to the narrow, wooden staircase at the back of the bus without stumbling.
Ernie slammed on the breaks without warning; the beds slid a foot towards the front of the room. Madam Marsh was holding a handkerchief to her mouth when she came down the stairs after Stan; she was swaying slightly, apparently dizzy from the roughness of the bus ride. Once she was off the bus, Stan chucked her bag after her and slammed the door shut. Then, we were off again, tearing down a narrow country lane so fast the trees only just managed to jump out of the way in time.
When Stan sat back down, he opened a newspaper called the Daily Prophet. I wasn't sure how he could read with the way Ernie was driving, jostling everyone around every two seconds, but he was managing. Or at least, he was doing a good job of faking it.
Not-Neville sat up, looking alarmed. He pointed at the paper. "That man! He was on the muggle news!"
Stan turned to the front page and chuckled. "Sirius Black? 'Course 'e was on the muggle news, Neville! Where you been?"
When Not-Neville still looked confused, Stan handed him the front page. "You oughta read the papers more, Neville."
He held the paper up to the candlelight and read. Tilly still looked a bit sick, but she managed to talk somehow anyway. "Isn't that guy, like, a serial killer or something?" She leaned over to read the paper over Not-Neville's shoulder.
I didn't need to. I already knew what it said. Black is a danger to anyone who crosses his path….escaped criminal from the prison Azkaban… we're doing everything we can to recapture him… Blah, blah, blah. It was kind of boring.
They had a picture of him blinking on the page (magic photos can move and sometimes talk and even leave their frames from time to time, for those of you readers who don't know). He was a pale man who looked a lot older than thirty something, which was how old he was supposed to be. Long, dark matted hair, sunken face, shadowed eyes.
Azkaban was more than a little inhumane (but that's a conversation you're not ready to have); it made sense he'd look terrible. Even so, I got the feeling the Daily Prophet tried their hardest to make this photo look as unflattering as possible. They wanted to make sure people were plenty scared and not stupid enough to go after him themselves if they spotted him.
"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" Stan asked when Not-Neville and Tilly had finished with the paper.
"Meh." Tilly shrugged. "I've seen scarier. Like Maggie when he gets up in the morning. Hey-o!" She pumped her fist in the air, cackling like she'd told a hilarious joke. I threw a pillow at her to shut her up.
"He killed thirteen people!" Not-Neville cried. "With one curse!"
"Yep. In front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight. Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?" Stan rambled on.
"Ar," Ernie agreed. There was a dark look in his eyes as he swerved the bus again, making a bicycle pedal itself out of the way.
Stan swiveled his chair around dramatically. He loves to gossip and talk about nonsense, so I tend to take everything he says with a grain of salt. "Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo."
"What, Voldemort?" Not-Neville asked.
Ernie almost drove us into a barn. I had to grip the bed rail tighter to stop myself from being thrown to the floor as he struggled to gain control of the bus again.
"You outta your tree?" Stan yelped. "'Choo say his name for?"
"Sorry," Not-Neville mumbled. "Sorry, I I forgot…"
"Forgot!" Stan was looking very pale.
See, 'Voldemort' was the name of this super, duber, mega evil wizard. He was the leader of this magic terrorist group that thrived on blood supremacy and chaos. You'd learn how powerful and unstoppable the guy was in history, and most people were too terrified to write down his name, never mind speak it out loud. But all that intimidation and spookiness was lost on me for one simple fact: he was laid out by a one year old.
It sort of ruined the effect; I was more inclined to laugh rather than scream whenever I heard the name. Maybe I was making light of the horror he had caused the world and the trauma people suffered because of him and his followers… but, come on! It's pathetic, isn't it? All that hype just to be bested by an infant…
Then again, I was a baby myself back when he was around. I'm sure I would have felt differently if I actually remembered the war he started. It's just, it didn't affect me personally, so I didn't care. I had better things to worry about than some Morgoth wannabe who was already dead. Not starving to death for instance. That was usually a pretty big concern of mine.
"Blimey, my 'eart's goin' that fast…" Stan muttered with a dramatic hand pressed against his chest.
Tilly snorted, taking the whole 'Voldemort' thing about as seriously as I did. Knowing my sister she wouldn't be afraid to punch the guy in his non-existent nose if he were still around.
Not-Neville, meanwhile, looked guilty for saying the name anyway. "So so, Black was a supporter of… You-Know-Who?"
Stan was rubbing his chest as he went on. "Yeah. Yeah, tha's right. Very close to You-Know-'Oo, they say. Anyway, when little 'Arry Potter got the better of You-Know-'Oo "
Not-Neville made a not so subtle attempt to flatten his hair over his forehead; Tilly and I snickered at one another. This was because, as I'm sure you might have figured out by now, Not-Neville was Harry Potter.
" all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn't they, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard 'e thought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'ad taken over.
"Ooh," Tilly said. "Spooky."
I laughed, but Stan nodded, unable to pick up her sarcasm.
"Anyway," the conductor went on. "They cornered Black in the middle of a street full of muggles, an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the street apart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen muggles, what got in
the way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?"
He stared at the three of us, as if he expected us to be hanging on to his every word.
"What?" Not-Neville, aka Harry, asked.
"Laughed," Stan said. "Jus' stood there an' laughed. An' when reinforcements from the Ministry of Magic got there, 'e went wiv 'em quiet as anyfink, still laughing 'is 'ead off. 'Cos 'e's mad, inee, Ern? Inee mad?"
"If he weren't when he went to Azkaban, he will be now," Ernie said from the wheel. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in that place. Serves him right, mind you . . . after what he did..."
That sounded ominous. I didn't know all the details of what Sirius Black had done, just that a lot of people had either died or gotten hurt because of him, but I'd seen a lot of dodgy characters on the streets. That knowledge didn't bother me all that much, and the odds of actually running into him were slim to none so…
"They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?" Stan said. " 'Ole street blown up an' all them Muggles dead. What was it they said 'ad 'appened, Ern?"
"Gas explosion," grunted Ernie.
"An' now 'e's out," said Stan. He took out the newspaper again to look at the picture of Black's gaunt face, cackling like mad at the camera. "Never been a breakout from Azkaban before, 'as there, Ern? Beats me 'ow 'e did it. Frightenin', eh? Mind, I don't fancy 'is chances against them Azkaban guards, eh, Ern?"
Ernie shivered. "Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."
That, I would actually agree with. The guards of Azkaban were a big part of what made the prison so immoral, but, like I said, we're not ready for that conversation yet.
Stan put the paper away, but he looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do.
The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees. I'd been listening so intently to the conversation they were having, I'd forgotten about Ernie's wild driving for a few minutes. That happened to me sometimes. I'd get so focused on one thing, and something else could just blip out of existence.
After a while, Stan gave Harry a hot chocolate, but it poured all over his pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesey to Aberdeen. That was the most common mistake among people using the Knight Bus for the first time: buying drinks. The bus moved much too fast, it was bound to spill everywhere.
We rode along for a while. There were more passengers than I'd thought, hiding in the upstairs area, but that was fine. There was no rush now that we were off the Malfoy's property. No reason to worry…
One by one, wizards and witches in dressing gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. Every single one of them looked eager to get off. Who could blame them? The Knight Bus wasn't exactly the most comfortable method of transportation.
I was starting to get agitated myself, when the last of the other passengers finally got off, leaving just Tilly, Harry, and me.
"Right then, Neville, Twinsies," said Stan, clapping his hands, "where abouts in London?"
"To The Square," I said. We were stationary for the moment, so I figured it was safe to speak.
Tilly looked at Harry. "Wanna come with us? Or do you have somewhere to go…?"
He shook his head. "No, I… I'll just go with you."
Tilly grinned. "Cool."
Stan frowned. "'Old on a minute. Ain't The Square where all dem 'omeless people hang about? 'Choo wanna go wiv 'im for?"
I shrugged. "Maybe we just like the jazz music they play." To this day I don't think Stan has figured out that Tilly and I were one of 'all dem 'omeless people.' I wouldn't be surprised if he somehow got it in his head that we'd lived in a mansion like the Malfoys.
"A'ight," Stan said. "But, 'choo listenin' when we was talkin'? Sirius Black is out on the run! The streets isn't too safe to be wanderin' about."
"Awe," Tilly cooed. "Stan, I didn't know you cared!" She giggled, but neither Stan nor Ernie seemed to find the comment very funny. Tilly cleared her throat. "No, but, seriously, we'll be fine."
"We know how to stay out of trouble," I added. "Uh… relatively speaking…Plus, Garry and Larry live, like, right there."
"And if all else fails, we'll go to their sister Marry's!"
Stan and Ernie shared a look with one another. For a second, I thought they might refuse to take us anywhere, but then Stan shrugged, looking a little reluctant about it. "Well, I guess, if that's where you really wanna go…"
He nodded for Ernie to start driving, and with one last bang! the bus was speeding off for London.