𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 3, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 3: The Knight Bus

There was a deafening BANG, and Y/N and Harry threw up their hands to shieled their eyes against a sudden blinding light—

With a yell, they rolled back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of wheels and headlights screeched to a halt exactly where Harry and Y/N had just been lying. They belonged, as Harry and Y/N saw when they raised their heads, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus, which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windshield spelled The Knight Bus. 

For a split second, Y/N wondered if she had been knocked silly by her fall, but to be certain, she whispered to Harry, "You're seeing this too, right?"

"Uh-huh," he muttered back.

Suddenly, a conductor in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly to the night.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this eve—"

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry and Y/N, both of whom were still sitting on the ground. Y/N and Harry snatched up their wands and scrambled to their feet. Close up, Y/N saw that Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than she and Harry were, eighteen or nineteen at most, with large, protruding ears and quite a few pimples. 

"What were you doin' down there," said Stan, dropping his professional manner.

"Fell over," said Y/N. 

"'Choo fall over far?" sniggered Stan.

"We didn't do it on purpose," said Harry, annoyed as Y/N looked down. One of the knees in her jeans was torn, and the hand she had thrown out to break the fall was bleeding. She suddenly remembered why she and Harry had fallen over and turned around quickly to stare at the alleyway between the garage and fence. The Knight Bus's headlamps were flooding it with light, and it was empty.

"'Choo lookin' at?" said Stan.

"There was a big black thing," said Y/N, pointing uncertainly into the gap. "Like a dog... but massive..."

She looked around at Stan, whose mouth was slightly open. With a feeling of unease, she saw his eyes move to the scar on her forearm.

"Woss that?" he asked abruptly.

"Nothing," said Y/N quickly, hiding her left arm behind her back, looking at Harry to see him flattening his hair over his scar. If the Ministry of Magic was looking for them, they didn't want to make it too easy for them.

"Woss your names?" Stan persisted.

"Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott," said Harry. "So—so this bus," he went on quickly, "did you say it goes anywhere?"

"Yep," said Stan proudly, "anywhere you like, long's it's on land. Can't do nuffink underwater. 'Ere," he said, looking suspicious again, "you did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand 'ands, dincha?"

"Yes," said Y/N quickly. "Um—so—about the bus—listen, how much would it be to get to London?"

"Eleven Sickles," said Stan.

Y/N rummaged once more in her trunk, but Harry stopped her, insisting to pay. When he'd shoved some silver into Stan's hand, he, Y/N, and Stan then lifted their trunks, with Hedwig's and Hades's cages balanced on top, up the steps of the bus.

There were no seats; instead, half a dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-paneled walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs" and rolled over in his sleep.