Knight Bus

Hunchbacked Old Tom was covered in wrinkles, his toothless mouth sunken in. He looked as wicked as the Dark Wizards in Knockturn Alley.

Yet beneath that ugly exterior was a warm heart.

Old Tom personally led Anton to the entrance of The Leaky Cauldron and taught him how to call the Knight Bus. He waited with Anton until the magical bus appeared before them with a loud bang.

He gently patted Anton's little head. "Young Wizard, good luck."

Anton pursed his lips and bowed to him. "Thank you, Mr. Tom."

In the two months since he had crossed over, he had followed the Old Wizard through the Land of Chaos and encountered all sorts of strange, disorderly people. Those who showed him kindness had truly been few and far between.

Old Tom's wrinkled mouth curled into a kindly smile that made him look like an old grandmother. He waved, then turned and returned to the pub.

The Knight Bus looked much like a Muggle bus.

It had wheels and large headlights as well, and stood three stories tall. Through the windows, Anton could see no seats inside, only beds with brass posts and candlelit holders beside them.

Looking back, he could also see a shrunken head hanging in the driver's cabin.

These little heads originated from the headhunting cultures of South America. They took their enemies' heads and used a unique Shrunken Head Technique to reduce them to the size of a baby's head. This technique was extremely popular among British wizards; both Dark Wizards and legitimate wizards liked it.

"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, an emergency transport service for witches and wizards in distress. Just hold out your wand and step aboard, and we can take you anywhere you want to go."

A handsome young man stood by the handrail, his uniform cap perched crookedly on his head, smiling brightly. "My name is Stan Shunpike, and I'll be your conductor today."

His smile was so infectious that Anton smiled along with him. "I want to go... Wait, let me check."

Conductor Stan said proudly, "Anywhere you want, as long as it's on land."

Anton took out the slip of paper in his pocket. "Huh? France?"

Stan blinked. "France?"

Anton had not expected that the goblin who could treat Lupin lived in France. He stared at Stan. "Can I ask how much the fare is first?"

The Knight Bus was not cheap.

In the original story, Harry had spent a full eleven Sickles traveling from Privet Drive to The Leaky Cauldron. Under the British wizarding world's bizarre multi-base currency system, one Galleon equaled seventeen Sickles.

And that had only been domestic travel. Going abroad would probably cost several Galleons!

Stan looked a little embarrassed. "It's not a matter of price. France... we might not be able to go there."

Seeing Anton's puzzled expression, he explained, "The Knight Bus was originally proposed by Dugald McPhail, the Minister for Magic of the British Ministry of Magic. Even now, there are still wizards in Britain who cling to tradition and oppose it. They even call it a 'Muggle-style humiliation.'"

Anton frowned and tightened his grip on the suitcase handle. "What do you mean?"

Stan chuckled. "The French won't be so open-minded. They're far too old-fashioned. They don't even have a proposal for buses."

He shrugged. "We can't go to France."

Confused, Anton turned back toward The Leaky Cauldron. There was no reason Old Tom would deceive him about something like this.

He handed the slip of paper to the conductor. "Someone told me you could take me to this place."

Stan studied it carefully. "Aha, an island between the two countries. We can go there."

Grinning, he handed the paper back to Anton and helped carry his suitcase aboard. "You're lucky, little fellow. We normally only operate on land."

The driver turned around. He was an older wizard with thick lenses and a full, meticulously groomed beard. "A while ago, the wizards on those little islands protested. They said the mainland was an island too, so why were we discriminating against them just because their islands were smaller?"

He shrugged in a comical manner. "So now we have to drive on water."

Stan chimed in from the side, "After all, we promised not to go anywhere underwater."

Then, for no apparent reason, the two exchanged looks and laughed.

Anton's mouth twitched. Sometimes, he felt utterly out of sync with foreigners. He simply did not find some of their jokes funny.

He also did not understand why wizards on small islands around Britain had protested, only for the bus to then be able to take him to an island near France.

As long as it could get there, that was enough.

The fare was not as outrageous as he had expected: fifteen Sickles.

"You'll sleep in this one," Stan said quietly. He led Anton to an empty bed, helped tuck the suitcase beneath it, then went back to sit in an armchair beside the driver.

Unlike the fanfiction and movie clips Anton had seen before, this bus driver did not possess skilled driving techniques. If anything, he was incredibly inexperienced.

With a loud bang, the bus shot forward with a powerful force pressing everyone into their seats.

It charged ahead recklessly all the way.

Sometimes, it even bounced along as it moved forward.

Everything along its route leaped aside to avoid it.

Once the bus had passed, lamp posts, mailboxes, trash cans, trees, even Muggle cars and pedestrians jumped back into their original positions.

It could practically be called spatial distortion.

Anton watched the distorted scenes outside with fascination. Thanks to the two months he had spent following that Old Wizard who was like a mad scientist, he no longer merely gasped in amazement at wizarding abilities.

Pondering their principles was the only good influence the Old Wizard had taught him through words and example.

Anton even saw a familiar place along the way.

A campsite belonging to the Wandering Wizards.

The bus still barreled straight through it, twisting everything around it. Two hooded Dark Wizards stood whispering in a corner, their faces hidden, unaware that the bus had brushed past them.

Anton's face at the window was less than a palm's width away from them, and he clearly caught a few words—"...leeches can be used to draw out potion ingredients..."

Sometimes the bus also took detours. Whenever it encountered buildings that clearly belonged to official magical institutions, it veered around them in a curve.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Stan cackled, clearly very proud.

Most adult wizards used Apparition and Flying Broomsticks. A large portion of their passengers were clueless Young Wizards, and Stan loved seeing the awestruck expressions on their faces. It made him especially proud.

Anton's eyes gleamed. "It really is. Does this bus use some kind of spell?"

Stan's expression froze. Clearly, this Young Wizard had asked another question he could not answer. He could only put on a mysterious look. "It's an alchemical product of the Ministry of Magic. Hehe, secret!"

Anton nodded in understanding.

If this was a spell that could be learned, then combined with a Flying Broomstick, wouldn't it make traveling anywhere incredibly convenient?

It could even let someone come and go without a trace!

I have to figure it out someday and see whether I can learn it!

He quietly made a mental note of it.

The bus passed through cities, crossed wildernesses, and traveled over the ocean before finally arriving at an island that did not look very large.

To be precise, it was extremely small. One tree and one little wooden house almost occupied the entire island.

The bus could only park with half its body over the water.

Stan helped carry the luggage down. "Well then, see you later, little fellow. If you need us, just raise your wand. The Knight Bus is always at your service!"

With a loud bang, the bus vanished into the thin air.