Number Four Privet Drive
(The street slumbers, adrift in shadow. Then... a curious beam of light bobs beyond the second-story window of Number Four. Inside Harry's bedroom there is a tent of blankets. Within... the shadow of a Harry who whispers)
Harry: Lumos Maxima...
(The tent blooms softly with light -- briefly illuminating a bedside photograph of James & Lily Potter -- then goes dark)
Harry: Lumos Maxima...
(The blankets bloom once again when, down the hall, a toilet flushes. Instantly, the Harry stiffens, the blankets dim, and the tent flattens. Just as...... the bedroom door opens, revealing... Uncle Vernon. He peers inside, eyes flashing suspiciously, then... withdraws. The tent rises)
Harry: Lumos Maxima...
(As the blankets blaze, inside the blanket tent in front of Harry is Violeta Stitch's Extreme Incantations book. Once again, he speaks)
Harry: Lumos... MAXIMA!
(A blinding blast of light flashes from the second storywindow of Number Four. Dogs bark. The light in the hallway snaps on, Harry's tent droops once more and, seconds later, Harry's door eases open. Uncle Vernon peers in and switches on the light. The room is utterly silent. Slowly, he closes the door)
-----Time Skip-----
(The doorbell chimes and a shrill voice thunders)
Petunia: Harry! Harry!
(Harry bounds down the stairs and into the front hall, where his Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley stand stiffly. Petunia flicks a bit of fluff from Dudley's sweater, glowers crossly at Harry, and jerks her head toward the door)
Petunia: Well, go on. Open it.
(Harry reaches for the knob when -- BLAM! -- it bursts open, revealing a large, waddling woman: Aunt Marge and a large waddling bulldog: Ripper. Uncle Vernon lurches forward out of the teeming rain, an enormous suitcase in hand, and drops it on Harry)
Petunia: Marge! Welcome! How was the train?
Marge: Wretched. Ripper got sick.
Petunia: Ah. How... unfortunate.
Marge: I would've left him with the others, but he pines so when I'm away. Don't you, darling?
(Aunt Marge puckers her lips at Ripper and leads him down the hallway. Harry follows with Uncle Vernon)
Harry: Uncle Vernon. I need you to sign this form.
Vernon: What is it?
Harry: Nothing. Something for school...
(Uncle Vernon eyes the parchment in Harry's hand suspiciously)
Vernon: Later perhaps. If you behave.
Harry: I will if she does.
(Marge turns, eyeing Harry)
Marge: So. Still here, are you?
Harry: Yes.
Marge: Don't say 'yes' in that ungrateful tone. Damn good of my brother to keep you, if you ask me.
(Marge turns to Vernon and Petunia)
Marge: It'd have been straight to an orphanage if he'd been dumped on my doorstep.
(Just then Dudley, sitting comatose before the TV, emits a hollow, brain-dead chuckle)
Marge: Is that my Dudders! Hm? Is that my neffy poo? Come and say hello to your Auntie Marge.
(Marge flashes a thick fan of pound notes. Dudley blinks, waddles forward, and extends his plump palm obediently. Harry looks on, then sees Ripper snuffling about his ankle)
-----Time Skip-----
(As Harry clears the dishes, Uncle Vernon brings out a bottle of brandy)
Vernon: Can I tempt you, Marge?
Marge: Just a small one. A bit more... a bit more... That's the boy.
(Marge takes a sloppy sip)
Marge: Aah. Excellent nosh, Petunia. It's normally just a fry-up for me, what with twelve dogs.
(She smacks her lips, lowers her brandy, and lets Ripper take a slobbery lap out of the glass... then catches Harry looking)
Marge: What are you smirking at! Where is it that you send him, Vernon?
Vernon: St. Brutus's. It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases.
(Hearing this, Harry frowns, glances at Uncle Vernon, who glares darkly at him)
Marge: I see. And do they use the caneat St. Brutus's, boy?
Harry: Oh, yes. I've been beaten loads of times.
Marge: Excellent. I won't have this namby-pamby wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. Still. Mustn't blame yourself for how this one's turned out, Vernon. It all comes down to blood. Bad blood will out. What is it the boy's father did, Petunia?
Petunia: Nothing. That is... he didn't work. He was -- unemployed.
Marge: Of course. And a drunk, I expect --
Harry: That's a lie.
(Aunt Marge pauses on her wine, eyes narrowing on Harry)
Marge: What did you say?
Harry: My dad wasn't a drunk.
(POP! The glass in Aunt Marge's hand explodes)
Petunia: Oh my goodness! Marge!
Marge: Not to worry, Petunia. I have a very firm grip.
(Harry stares at the shattered glass in surprise)
Vernon: You go to bed. Now.
Marge: Quiet, Vernon. It doesn't matter about the father. In the end it comes down to the mother. You see it all the time with dogs. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there'll be something wrong with the pup...
Harry: Shut up! Shut up!
(Aunt Marge starts to reply, when -- ZING! -- a button onher dress sails into the air. Seams groan. Thread snaps. Aunt Marge's eyes widen. Her cheeks billow. Her whole body billows. And she begins to inflate like a monstrous balloon)
Vernon: MARGE!
(As she rises, Uncle Vernon leaps for her. Ripper growls, fixes his teeth to his trousers. Harry frightened by what he's done, watches Aunt Marge bounce gently across the ceiling and into the conservatory. The others race outside. As Aunt Marge begins to float away, Uncle Vernon grips her hands)
Vernon: Don't worry! I've got you...
(Slowly... to his horror... Uncle Vernon himself begins to rise. Aunt Marge looks fearfully into his eyes...)
Marge: Vernon. Don't you dare --
(But he does. He lets go. Falls to his knees. And watches Aunt Marge float away. Harry crashes inside his room, takes his trunk, then puts his heel to a lose floorboard and removes his wand from its hiding place. Turning, he grabs the photograph of his parents)
-----Time Skip-----
(BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Harry tows the trunk down the stairs... finds Uncle Vernon waiting for him)
Vernon: YOU BRING HER BACK! YOU BRING HER BACK AND PUT HER RIGHT!
Harry: No! She deserved what she got! And you... you keep away from me.
(Uncle Vernon eyes Harry's wand nervously, then grins with knowing cruelty)
Vernon: You're not allowed to do magic out of school. They won't have you now. You've got nowhere to go.
(Suddenly someone knocks on the door, Harry and the Dursleys stare at the door for a minute before the door gets blasted open with a flash of light, Vernon, Dudley and Petunia duck away while Harry rises his wand, preparing for anything)
Y/n: So I am in the right place.
(Harry lowers his wand when he sees that it was Y/n who blasted the door off)
Harry: Y/n?
Y/n: How's it going Harry?
(Harry smiles)
Harry: What are you doing here?
(Y/n looks and sees Harry's trunk already packed)
Y/n: Things are getting a little dangerous so I came to pick you up and it seems like you're already packed, good.
Harry: What do you mean dangerous?
(Y/n walks over to Harry and points his wand at Harry's trunk, the trunk suddenly shrinks to be small enough to be put into a pocket. Harry picks his small trunk and looks at it with a smile)
Harry: Sometimes I forget how much I love magic.
(Y/n starts to walk towards the doorway but stops and turns to Harry)
Y/n: Come on then. Are you waiting for premission?
(Harry walks after Y/n but Vernon grabs his arm)
Vernon: He's not going anywhere before he brings Marge back!
(Y/n looks at Vernon with an eye brow raised and he turns to look at Harry)
Y/n: I didn't know you lived with muggle-pig halfbreeds.
(Harry chuckles while Vernons face starts to turn red from rage)
Vernon: WHAT DID YOU-
(Y/n points his wand at Vernon while narrowing his eyes)
Y/n: You, do not yell at me. I can easily turn you into a real pig if I wanted to.
(Vernon backs away, visibly scared as Y/n and Harry walk out and start to walk down the street. High in the sky, a plump dot rises. Aunt Marge)
Y/n: By the way, what was that floating balloon woman about?
(Harry smiles a little)
Harry: It's nothing.
Streets
(Y/n, Harry walk and walk and walk, then... stop. Harry glances about. An empty playground. Swings creaking gently on rusted chains. A tiny carousel, kissed gently by the wind, turning slowly. Y/n and Harry sit down next to the road.
Deep in the night, an alarm shrieks, goes silent. Harry, still as a statue. Listening. In the trees above, leaves tremble. The wind gathers. Y/n turns, studies the swaying swings, the carousel. Then, Harry... stiffens.
Y/n turns back, sensing something in the shadows across the street, he rises. Slowly draws his wand while stepping in front of Harry. Then they both see... it. Something big. Darker than the shadows which conceal it. Something with wide, gleaming eyes)
Y/n: 'Black..'
(Harry steps back. Afraid to look. Afraid not to. Wand outstretched... he trips, tumbles over. The tip of his wand blazes. BANG! Twin beams of blinding light spear the night)
Harry: Aaaah!
Y/n: Watch out!
(Y/n jumps off of the road as giant wheels bear down. Harry rolls clear -- just as a preposterously purple, triple-decker bus screeches to a halt. Gold letters glimmer above the windscreen: The Knight Bus. Doors hiss. Snap back. Reveal Stan Shunpike, an 18-year-old boy in a wrinkled conductor's uniform. Pasty face. Raccoon eyes. Stan looks like he hasn't seen the sun in years)
Stan: Welcome to the Knight Bus. Emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening.
(Stan peers down at Y/n, Harry)
Stan: Wha' choo doin' down there?
Y/n: He fell over.
Stan: Wha' choo fall over for?
Harry: I didn't do it on purpose.
(Stan eyes Y/n and Harry suspiciously, nods slowly)
Stan: Well, come on then. Let's not wait for the grass to grow.
(As Y/n steps into the bus, Harry peers into the shadows across the street -- now simply shadows -- and climbs aboard. In the knight bus there are no seats. Only beds. The brass frames need a shine, the lines a wash. In one bed, a disheveled wizard grunts, turns over in his sleep)
Wizard: Not now... I'm pickling slugs...
(Behind the wheel, Ernie, an unshaven wizard in thick glasses, stares straight ahead, armpits stained with sweat. A shrunken head dangles from the rearview mirror, muttering incessantly through the stitches that lace its mouth)
Stan: Take 'er away, Ern.
Head: Yeah, take it away!
(BANG! Ernie rockets away and the beds -- as one -- slide six inches to the rear. Y/n grabs onto a pole and stands while Harry drops onto the bed nearest, peers up at the chandelier swaying directly above his and Y/n's heads. Beyond the windscreen on coming traffic whips past in a blur)
Stan: Wot you say your names were again?
Y/n: We didn't.
(Stan, huddled in an armchair, peeks over The Daily Prophet, eyes Y/n and Harry coolly, before disappearing once more. Harry brushes the fringe of his hair over his scar, watches an ambulance -- siren wailing -- careen past)
Stan: Where abouts you headin'?
(Harry hesitates. He hadn't thought about this)
Y/n: The Leaky Cauldron.
Stan: Is it now? Get that, Ern? The Leaky Cauldron.
(Stan grins with sinister delight, showing bad teeth)
Head: Leaky Cauldron! Stay away from the pea soup!
(As the Shrunken Head cackles with delight, Harry peers out the windscreen, watches London careering by)
Harry: Isn't this a bit... dangerous?
Stan: Naah. Haven't had an accident in -- what? -- a week is it, Ern?
Head: Heads up! Little old lady at twelve o'clock!
(Sure enough, directly ahead, a little old lady is crossing the street. Ernie hits the brakes hard and Harry flies forward, palms to the window. The brakes pinch down, the bus stops inches from the old lady, and Harry flies back onto his bed. BANG! The bus rockets forward once more. As Harry rights himself, he notices the headline of Stan's Daily Prophet: ESCAPE FROM AZKABAN! Below, a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair glowers from a moving photograph)
Harry: Who is that? That man.
Stan: Who is that? That's Sirius Black, that is. Don' tell me you ne'er been hearin' o' Sirius Black?
(Harry shakes his head, still staring at the man's face)
Y/n: Sirius Black is a murderer that got locked up in Azkaban. And the reason why I came to pick you up.
Harry: But how'd he escape?
Stan: Tha's the question, isn't it? He's the firs' that's done it. Gives me the collywobbles thinking he's out there, though, I'll tell you that. Big supporter of You Know-'Oo, Black was. Reckon you heard o' him.
(Harry nods and, as he does, Black's eyes shift. Meet Harry's)
Harry: Yeah. Him I've heard of.
(Just then, a pair of double-decker buses sweep directly toward the Knight Bus. Before Harry can scream, the entire Knight Bus squeezes down and shoots the gap between the two on rushing buses. The Shrunken Head winces)
Head: Hate that.
Harry: This bus. Don't the Muggles ever...
Y/n: No they don't, this bus is enchanted with magic that it's invisible to muggle eyes, plus it moves too fast for a naked eye to see.
(Just then, a couple walking a dog are engulfed by a rush of wind as the invisible Knight Bus whooshes past. The couple glances about in bewilderment. The dog yaps madly)
Head: Turn! Turn!
(Ernie fans the wheel, sending the Knight Bus into adizzying 360-degree turn. Headlights pinwheel past the windows as the bus rides up on two wheels and Harry is sent flying once more but before he can smack into a window, Y/n grabs his collar and puts him down onto the bed. Ernie... slams on the brakes)
Leaky Cauldron
(The Knight Bus fishtails into a street and squeals to a stop, centimeters from a parked clothes. WHOOSH! The bus settlesand -- TINK! -- taps the bumper. Instantly, the car's alarm wails. The knight bus' chandelier sways drunkenly as the bus doors open. The steps groan with heavy feet and a figure appears: Tom, Innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron pub)
Tom: Mr. Graves, Mr. Potter... at last.
(As the Knight Bus rockets off, Tom, Y/n and Harry are revealed, Harry glances up, reads the sign above: THE LEAKY CAULDRON. Harry takes out his trunk as it grows back inot its normal size. He looks at Y/n)
Y/n: It's not permanent.
(Tom drags Harry's trunk inside, then pauses and, with a flick of his wand, silences the car alarm)
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M3, CHAPTER 2 IS DONE :)
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Word Count: 2328