Cheques

Will watched coldly as Edward wrote out several bearer cheques.

Things had come to this after all, but Will saw no problem with it. Faced with a scumbag who treated his own flesh and blood like a dog, the only reason Will had not killed him was that he did not want the trouble.

The hundreds of thousands of pounds on those cheques would cover Will's expenses until graduation. Even if he bought Potions ingredients and books in bulk, he would have plenty to spend.

Once Edward finished writing the cheques, Will hit him with Stupefy and then Obliviate. He had to admit, Lockhart's tricks came in handy sometimes.

Early the next morning, Will stood by the window, looking out at the garden behind Arundel Castle. It covered more than ten hectares, and through the falling snow he could not see where it ended. Not that it had much to do with him.

Edward had invited him to Christmas dinner, but Edward's attitude alone told him how the rest of the Howard family would treat an illegitimate son like him.

Invite him in? Cut off his head? Keep him as a dog?

Apart from Hobart, hardly anyone would give him a warm welcome.

Will planned to get through the evening, then have nothing more to do with the Howard family.

At noon, however, a regretful-looking Hobart brought Will good news.

"I'm sorry, Will, but you may not be able to attend the Christmas dinner tonight..."

An important guest was coming that evening, so Will could not attend.

The guest was the daughter of Sir Gell, the current mayor of London, and Edward's future wife. The Howard family was arranging a marriage alliance with the Gell family, and an illegitimate son like Will had no place at that dinner.

For Will, though, it was good news. Now that he had achieved his goal, he had no wish to stay any longer.

"That's all right, Uncle Hobart. I understand." Will blinked up at him, making Hobart feel awful. "Could we visit Diagon Alley before dinner?"

"Oh, of course, Will. Is there anything you'd like to buy? Perhaps another Broomstick?" Buying things seemed to be Hobart's way of treating people well. No wonder those ladies liked him.

"Um, Uncle Hobart, I'm only average at Flying Class." Will paused, then asked timidly, "Could we buy some books?"

"Of course we can," Hobart replied with a smile. Will was a good nephew: polite, sensible, studious, and a good student. It was a shame his elder brother had that detestable "aristocratic manner" and treated such a fine child as a tool.

"Could we get there by Apparition? I'd really like to try it." Will gazed up at Hobart like a curious young wizard.

Hobart's expression turned awkward. "Taking a young wizard along by Apparition is dangerous. I think I ought to keep you safe."

In truth, Hobart had never learned Apparition. It was advanced magic, and his grades had only been middling back then. He had never tried to learn it afterward, either. During the wizarding war, he had returned to the Muggle world and had barely felt Voldemort's shadow at all.

Will did not press him. Apparition was hardly a spell every wizard knew. He suspected Hobart had never learned it, but asking would do neither of them any good.

So they chose another way to travel: the Knight Bus.

The Knight Bus looked much like a Muggle triple-decker bus. Its towering purple body, enormous wheels, and bright headlights would have looked perfectly ordinary to a Muggle.

Inside, however, was another story.

The dried little head in the driver's cab was frightening enough. Will had read about the headhunting culture of South America: they used shrunken-head techniques to reduce a person's head to the size of a baby's. Such heads were also valuable Dark Magic materials. When Will had read about them, he had thought of Jack Sparrow's mother.

There were no seats inside the bus. Instead, it had single beds with brass bedposts. A bright chandelier hung in the center, and from the first deck, he could see straight up through the other two.

A conductor in a purple uniform stood at the door, with a pointed chin and ears that stuck out. "Welcome aboard the Knight Bus. This is... Hey, Howard! Where are you off to instead of staying home for Christmas? And who's the kid?"

"That's enough, Shunpike. He's my nephew. Take us to the Leaky Cauldron." Hobart seemed fairly familiar with the conductor. He handed him two Galleons. "I haven't any change. Keep the rest as a tip, and get Will a hot chocolate."

A ticket on the Knight Bus cost only eleven Sickles. Even with a hot chocolate, the total was just fourteen.

Stan Shunpike smiled at the tip and went to make Will's hot chocolate. Hobart led Will aboard. It was the Christmas season, and there were no other passengers, so they sat down on two clean beds. Hobart explained how to summon the Knight Bus.

"It's very fast. If you need it later, you can summon it yourself. It's cheap, too: one Galleon a trip."

As Hobart spoke, Stan brought Will his hot chocolate.

"Yeah, kid. You'd best hold on tight in a moment."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't give me that hot chocolate." Will knew what was coming. It would probably end up all over the bus.

"Don't worry, Ernie hasn't—" Stan Shunpike never finished.

The dried head hanging at the front suddenly shrieked, "Drive, Ernie!"

The Knight Bus lurched into motion. The force sent the hot chocolate flying from Stan Shunpike's hand, just as Will had expected.

"No!" Shunpike yelled. "Ernie! I didn't say go yet—"

Will reacted almost instantly. Without even drawing the wand from his sleeve, he cast with a hand gesture, almost by instinct.

"Impedimenta!"

"Scourgify!"

The hot chocolate vanished from midair. Will felt a little annoyed. Why did liquids keep flying at him? Last time it had been Neville's Cure for Boils; now it was hot chocolate.

"Shunpike! You nearly spilled that all over him." Hobart's face darkened. He was angry with himself, too: he had not protected Will in time, leaving the boy to handle it himself. If Will had reacted any slower, he would have had chocolate all over his face.

"Sorry, I'm really sorry." Conductor Stan Shunpike apologized repeatedly. He never made such basic mistakes, yet on Christmas he had nearly caused a disaster. "I'll make it up to you. How about a free ride?"

Knowing he was at fault, he offered to waive the fare. Hobart looked at Will. "Will should decide."

Stan looked at Will hopefully.

"Let's forget it. We should all enjoy Christmas. As for making it up to me, if I ever forget my money, how about giving me a free ride?"

"Of course!" The dead head hanging at the front answered before Stan could. After all, the near accident had happened because Ernie, the dead head, had ordered the driver to go without warning.

Will spread his hands and said no more. Stan took the hint and went over to the door, where he began talking to the dead head.

The Knight Bus rattled violently as it sped along, swaying from side to side and sometimes even bouncing between Muggle vehicles. At times it stretched; at others it compressed. Everything along its route leaped aside, then returned to its place once the bus had passed.

Will looked out the window and began to feel dizzy. Still, the Knight Bus was an extraordinary piece of magic. He reckoned it contained at least a dozen different kinds of spatial magic and was an advanced product of alchemy.

Come to think of it, he had not studied alchemy yet.

As that thought crossed his mind, the Knight Bus stopped at the roadside. Through the window, he could see the small, grimy Leaky Cauldron.

They had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.