Pulling myself up, I stared out ofthe dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a completely different street. Stan was watching our stunned faces with great enjoyment. 

"This is where we was before you flagged us down," he said."Where are we, Ern? Somewhere in Wales?"

 "Ar," said Ernie. 

"How come the Muggles don't hear the bus?" I asked. 

"Them!" said Stan contemptuously. "Don' listen properly, dothey? Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'." 

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," said Ern. "We'll be inAbergavenny in a minute." 

Stan passed our bed and disappeared up a narrow woodenstaircase. I was still looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous. Ernie didn't seem to have mastered the use of asteering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, butit didn't hit anything; lines of lampposts, mailboxes, and trash cansjumped out of its way as it approached and back into position onceit had passed.

 Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witchwrapped in a travelling cloak." 'Ere you go, Madam Marsh," said Stan happily as Ern stampedon the brake and the beds slid a foot or so toward the front of thebus. Madam Marsh clamped a handkerchief to her mouth and tottered down the steps. Stan threw her bag out after her and rammedthe doors shut; there was another loud BANG, and we were thundering down a narrow country lane, trees leaping out of the way. 

I wouldn't have been able to sleep even if we had been travelling on a bus that didn't keep banging loudly and jumping a hundred miles at a time. My stomach churned as I fell back to wondering what was going to happen to us, and whether theDursleys had managed to get Aunt Marge off the ceiling yet. 

Stan had unfurled a copy of the Daily Prophet and was now reading with his tongue between his teeth. A large photograph of asunken-faced man with long, matted hair blinked slowly at Harry and me from the front page. He looked strangely familiar.

 "That man!" Harry said "He was on the Muggle news!"Oh yeah, the escaped prisoner.

 Stanley turned to the front page and chuckled."Sirius Black," he said, nodding. " 'Course 'e was on the Mugglenews, Neville, where you been?"He gave a superior sort of chuckle at the blank look on Harry'sface, removed the front page, and handed it to Harry."You oughta read the papers more, Neville."Harry held the paper up to the candlelight and I read behind his shoulder: 

BLACK STILL AT LARGE

 Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisonerever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eludingcapture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today."We are doing all we can to recapture Black,"said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, thismorning, "and we beg the magical community toremain calm."Fudge has been criticized by some members ofthe International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis."Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger toanyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I havethe Prime Minister's assurance that he will notbreathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone.And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?"While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles useto kill each other), the magical community lives infear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, whenBlack murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

 I looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the onlypart of the sunken face that seemed alive. I had never met avampire, but he had seen pictures of them in my Defense Againstthe Dark Arts classes, and Black, with his waxy white skin, lookedjust like one. 

"Scary-lookin' fing, inee?" said Stan, who had been watchingHarry and me read. 

"He murdered thirteen people?" I asked, handing the pageback to Stan, "with one curse?" 

"Yep," said Stan, "in front of witnesses an' all. Broad daylight.Big trouble it caused, dinnit, Ern?""Ar," said Ern darkly.Stan swiveled in his armchair, his hands on the back, the betterto look at Harry and me. 

"Black woz a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo," he said.

 "What, Voldemort?" said Harry, without thinking. Oh boy. Even Stan's pimples went white; Ern jerked the steering wheel so hard that a whole farmhouse had to jump aside to avoid thebus. 

"You outta your tree?" yelped Stan. " 'Choo say 'is name for?"

 "Sorry," said Harry hastily. "Sorry, I — I forgot —"

 "Forgot!" said Stan weakly. "Blimey, my 'eart's goin' thatfast . . ."

 "So — so Black was a supporter of You-Know-Who?" Harryprompted apologetically.

 "Yeah," said Stan, still rubbing his chest. "Yeah, that's right. Veryclose to You-Know-'Oo, they say. Anyway, when little 'Arry an' Emma Pottergot the better of You-Know-'Oo —" 

Harry nervously flattened his bangs down again, I looked out the window.

 "— all You-Know-'Oo's supporters was tracked down, wasn'tthey, Ern? Most of 'em knew it was all over, wiv You-Know-'Oo gone, and they came quiet. But not Sirius Black. I 'eard hethought 'e'd be second-in-command once You-Know-'Oo 'adtaken over. 

"Anyway, they cornered Black in the middle of a street full ofMuggles an' Black took out 'is wand and 'e blasted 'alf the streetapart, an' a wizard got it, an' so did a dozen Muggles what got inthe way. 'Orrible, eh? An' you know what Black did then?" Stancontinued in a dramatic whisper. 

"What?" I asked. 

"Laughed," said Stan. "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," said Ern in his slow voice. "I'd blow meself up before I set foot in thatplace. Serves him right, mind you . . . after what he did. . . ." 

"They 'ad a job coverin' it up, din' they, Ern?" Stan said. " 'Olestreet 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, examining the newspaper picture of Black's gaunt face again. "Never been a breakout fromAzkaban 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 suddenly shivered. 

"Talk about summat else, Stan, there's a good lad. Them Azkaban guards give me the collywobbles."Stan put the paper away reluctantly, and I leaned againstthe window of the Knight Bus, feeling worse than ever. I couldn'thelp imagining what Stan might be telling his passengers in a fewnights' time.

 " 'Ear about that 'Arry an' Emma Potter? Blew up eir' aunt! We 'ad 'em'ere on the Knight Bus, di'n't we, Ern? ey' re' tryin' to run forit. . . ." 

We,  had broken wizard law just like Sirius Black. Was inflating Aunt Marge bad enough to land us in Azkaban? I didn't know much about the wizard prison, though everyonehe'd ever heard speak of it did so in the same fearful tone.

 Hagrid,the Hogwarts gamekeeper, had spent two months there only lastyear. Harry wouldn't soon forget the look of relief on Hagrid's facewhen he had come back, and Hagrid was one ofthe bravest people I knew.

The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushesand wastebaskets, telephone booths and trees, and Harry and I lay,restless and miserable, on our feather bed. After a while, Stanremembered that Harry and I had paid for hot chocolate, but poured itall over Harry's pillow when the bus moved abruptly from Anglesey to Aberdeen.

 One by one, wizards and witches in dressinggowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave thebus. They all looked very pleased to go.Finally, Harry and I were the only passengers left.

 "Right then, Pansy,Neville" said Stan, clapping his hands, "whereabouts in London?"

 "Diagon Alley," I said. 

"Righto," said Stan. " 'Old tight, then . . ."BANG! 

We were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry and I sat upand watched buildings and benches squeezing themselves out ofthe Knight Bus's way. The sky was getting a little lighter. We wouldlie low for a couple of hours, go to Gringotts the moment itopened, then set off — where, I didn't know.Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a haltin front of a small and shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron,behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. 

"Thanks," Harry said to Ern. We jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower our trunks andHedwig's cage onto the pavement."Well," said Harry. " 'Bye then!"But Stan wasn't paying attention. Still standing in the doorwayto the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the LeakyCauldron. 

"There you are, Harry Emma," said a voice.

 Before Harry or I could turn, I felt a hand on my shoulder. At thesame time, Stan shouted, "Blimey! Ern, come 'ere! Come 'ere!"Harry and I looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder andfelt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach — we had walkedright into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself.Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them."What didja call Neville an' Pansy, Minister?" he said excitedly.Fudge, a portly little man in a long, pinstriped cloak, lookedcold and exhausted. 

"Neville?Pansy?" he repeated, frowning. "This is Harry and Emma Potter." 

"I knew it!" Stan shouted gleefully. "Ern! Ern! Guess 'oo Neville a'Pansy are, Ern! 'They the Potters! I can see 't'eir scars!" 

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

Fudge increased the pressure on my shoulder, and Harry and I found ourselves being steered inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar. It wasTom, the wizened, toothless landlord.

 "You've got them, Minister!" said Tom. "Will you be wantinganything? Beer? Brandy?"

 "Perhaps a pot of tea," said Fudge, who still hadn't let go ofHarry or me.There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, andStan and Ern appeared, carrying our trunks and Hedwig's cageand looking around excitedly.

 " 'Ow come you di'n't tell us 'oo you are, eh, Neville? Pansy?" said Stan, beaming at Harry and me, while Ernie's owlish face peered interestedly overStan's shoulder. 

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

" 'Bye," Harry said miserably to Stan and Ern as Tom beckonedFudge toward the passage that led from the bar. 

" 'Bye, Neville!Pansy!" called Stan. 

Fudge marched Harry and me along the narrow passage after Tom'slantern, and then into a small parlor. Tom clicked his fingers, a fireburst into life in the grate, and he bowed himself out of the room. 

"Sit down, Harry,Emma," said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.Harry and I sat down, feeling goose bumps rising up my arms despitethe glow of the fire. Fudge took off his pinstriped cloak and tossedit aside, then hitched up the trousers of his bottle-green suit and satdown opposite Harry and me. 

"I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic." 

I already knew this, of course; he had seen Fudge once before, I had seen him in newspapers. 

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

"Well, Potters" said Fudge, pouring out tea, "you've had us all ina right flap, I don't mind telling you. Running away from your auntand uncle's house like that! I'd started to think . . . but you're safe,and that's what matters."Fudge buttered himself a crumpet and pushed the plate towardHarry and me.

"Eat, children, you look dead on your feet. Now then . . . Youwill be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the unfortunateblowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were dispatched to Privet Drivea few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been punctured and her memoryhas been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all. Sothat's that, and no harm done." 

Fudge smiled at Harry and me over the rim of his teacup, rather like anuncle surveying a favorite nephew. I, couldn't believe my ears,I opened my mouth to speak, couldn't think of anything to say,and closed it again.

 "Ah, you're worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?" said Fudge. "Well, I won't deny that they are extremely angry, Emma, but they are prepared to take you back next summer as longas you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays."

 I unstuck my throat."we always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays," I said, "and I, at least- don't ever want to go back to Privet Drive." 

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmeddown," said Fudge in a worried tone. "They are your family, afterall, and I'm sure you are fond of each other — er — very deepdown." 

It didn't occur to Harry or me to put Fudge right. We were still waitingto hear what was going to happen to us now. 

"So all that remains," said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, "is to decide where you're going to spend the last threeweeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room here at the LeakyCauldron and —" 

"Hang on," blurted Harry "What about our punishment?" 

Fudge blinked."Punishment?" 

"we broke the law!" Harry said. "The Decree for the Restriction ofUnderage Wizardry!"

 "Oh, my dear boy, we're not going to punish you for a littlething like that!" cried Fudge, waving his crumpet impatiently. "Itwas an accident! We don't send people to Azkaban just for blowingup their aunts!" 

But this didn't tally at all with our past dealings with theMinistry of Magic."Last year, we got an official warning just because a house-elfsmashed a pudding in my uncle's house!" I told Fudge, frowning."The Ministry of Magic said we'd be expelled from Hogwarts if therewas any more magic there!"

 Unless my eyes were deceiving me, Fudge was suddenlylooking awkward.

 "Circumstances change, Emma. . . . We have to take into account . . . in the present climate . . . Surely you don't want to be expelled?"

 "Of course we don't," said Harry. 

"Well then, what's all the fuss about?" laughed Fudge. "Now,have a crumpet, kids, while I go and see if Tom's got a room foryou." 

Fudge strode out of the parlor and Harry and I stared after him. Therewas something extremely odd going on. Why had Fudge beenwaiting for us at the Leaky Cauldron, if not to punish us forwhat we'd done? And now I came to think of it, surely it wasn't usual for the Minister of Magic himself to get involved in matters ofunderage magic?

 Fudge came back, accompanied by Tom the innkeeper."Room eleven's free, Harry,Emma" said Fudge. "I think you'll be verycomfortable. Just one thing, and I'm sure you'll understand . . . Idon't want you wandering off into Muggle London, all right? Keepto Diagon Alley. And you're to be back here before dark each night.Sure you'll understand. Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me." 

"Okay," said Harry slowly, "but why — ?" I started.

 "Don't want to lose you again, do we?" said Fudge with a heartylaugh. "No, no . . . best we know where you are. . . . I mean . . ."

 Fudge cleared his throat loudly and picked up his pinstripedcloak."Well, I'll be off, plenty to do, you know. . . ." 

"Have you had any luck with Black yet?" I asked. 

Fudge's finger slipped on the silver fastenings of his cloak."What's that? Oh, you've heard — well, no, not yet, but it's onlya matter of time. The Azkaban guards have never yet failed . . . andthey are angrier than I've ever seen them."Fudge shuddered slightly."So, I'll say good-bye."He held out his hand for me to shake then harry and Harry, shaking it, must have had a sudden idea, because he said:

 "Er — Minister? Can I ask you something?" 

"Certainly," said Fudge with a smile.

 "Well, third years at Hogwarts are allowed to visit Hogsmeade,but our aunt and uncle didn't sign the permission form. D'youthink you could — ?"

 Fudge was looking uncomfortable.

"Ah," he said. "No, no, I'm very sorry, Harry, but as I'm not yourparent or guardian —" 

"But you're the Minister of Magic," said Harry eagerly. "If yougave us permission —" I was already making my way to the door, I knew he was fighting a loosing battle.

"No, I'm sorry, Harry, but rules are rules," said Fudge flatly."Perhaps you'll be able to visit Hogsmeade next year. In fact, Ithink it's best if you don't . . . yes . . . well, I'll be off. Enjoy yourstay, Harry." 

And with a last smile and shake of Harry's hand, Fudge left theroom. Tom now moved forward, beaming at Harry and Me."If you'll follow me, Mr. and Ms. Potter," he said, "I've already takenyour things up. . . ." 

Harry and I followed Tom up a handsome wooden staircase to a doorwith a brass number eleven on it, which Tom unlocked and openedfor him.Inside were 2 very comfortable-looking beds, some highly polished oak furniture, a cheerfully crackling fire and, perched on topof the wardrobe —"Hedwig!" I gasped.The snowy owl clicked her beak and fluttered down onto my arm. 

"Very smart owl you've got there," chuckled Tom. "Arrivedabout five minutes after you did. If there's anything you need, Mr. and Ms Potter, don't hesitate to ask."He gave another bow and left. 

I sat on my bed for a long time, absentmindedly strokingHedwig. The sky outside the window was changing rapidly fromdeep, velvety blue to cold, steely gray and then, slowly, to pink shot with gold. 

I could hardly believe that we'd left Privet Driveonly a few hours ago, that we weren't expelled, and that we were nowfacing three Dursley-free weeks. 

"It's been a very weird night, Hedwig,"I yawned.And without even removing my clothes, I slumped back onto my pillows and fell asleep.