The Other Potter Book Three.

Chapter Two

"Oh. Who did you belong to then?" fudge asked.

I really didn't want to say their names. Ugh. Damn making conversation.

"You wouldn't know them. They were eaten by gorillas. I'm kidding! Or am I? One will never know!" I realised that he wasn't listening, because a giant bus had appeared in front of us.

Note to self: Pay attention, stop talking shit.

"There you are, Harry, " said Fudge. OH MY GOD I DID IT AGAIN!

Opps, I did it again. BAD WIL! PAY ATTENTION! Wait, did he say Harry?

"Blimey! Ern, come 'ere! Come 'ere!" said a man.

"What didja call Neville, Minister?" the man said jumping onto the pavement.

"Neville?" Fudge repeated, frowning. "This is Harry Potter."

"I knew it!" The man shouted gleefully. "Ern! Ern! Guess 'oo Neville is, Ern! 'E's 'Arry Potter! I can see 'isscar!"

"Yes, " said Fudge testily, "well, I'm very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now..."

He wheeled Harry inside and I followed. By the nervous look on Harry's face, I could tell that he was worried about being arrested.

Gosh, that kids a worry wart.

Gosh I know him well.

Gosh, he hadn't noticed me.

A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It was Tom again.

"You've got him, Minister!" said Tom. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Perhaps a pot of tea," said Fudge, who still hadn't let go of Harry. There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them and the bus folk appeared, carrying Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage and looking around excitedly.

"'Ow come you di'n't tell us 'oo you are, eh, Neville?" said the man, beaming at Harry

"And a private parlour, please, Tom, " said Fudge pointedly.

"Bye," Harry said miserably to them as Tom beckoned Fudge toward the passage that led from the bar.

Feeling unsure what to do, and uncertain whether Harry had noticed me at all, I followed them along the narrow passage after Tom's lantern, and then into a small parlour.

Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room. "Sit down, Harry," said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.

"Am I meant to be here?" I said awkwardly.

Harry turned and smiled when he saw me.

"Erm..." said Fudge. I pouted until he said yes. I then took a seat beside Harry, throwing him an 'I always get away with everything' smile.

Fudge sat opposite us and said: "I am Cornelius Fudge. The Minister of Magic."

Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and me and Harry, and left the parlour, closing the door behind him.

"Well, Harry, "said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you've had us all in a right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your aunt and uncle's house like that! I'd started to think... But you're safe, and that's what matters... your friend here knows you very well, she seemed to know you would come here..."

I mocked being posh and modest and pulled a face at Harry. Harry snorted, but Fudge didn't notice, he was busy buttering himself a crumpet. He pushed the plate toward Harry. "Eat, Harry, you look dead on your feet. Now then...You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. So that's that, and no harm done." Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup.