To be perfectly clear, I do not claim to be J.K. Rowling. I do not own any of the characters she created in her books, nor do I make any profit whatsoever from this story (or any story on this site, for that matter).

Author's Notes:

So, I started writing this story a long time ago. I found it again when I was digging through some old stuff while I was having some writer's block for my other story, The Other Dursley Son.

This story is really just my version of a Harry/Cedric romance. To make things more interesting, I'm making Harry a little smarter than he is in the books, with Cedric proving a good influence on his intellectual development as the story goes on. Sirius will also play a bigger part in Harry's life in this story.

Now, I don't have time to give the same amount of dedication that I give to The Other Dursley Son to a second story, so I'm going to go ahead and tell you that that other story remains my top priority. As a result, this story probably won't get updated near as often. It's really just something else that I can work on when I start getting writers block. Priorities can change over time though . . .

WARNINGS: This story will contain slash as well as mpreg. Other warnings will come as the story progresses, I'm sure. If you don't like it, that's tough. Do yourself a favor and find something else to read.

Chapter 1

Sitting on a low wall along a dark muggle street, Harry could feel the panic take hold in his chest. He had very seriously broken the Restriction of Underage Wizardry, and would likely be expelled from Hogwarts, the closest thing to a home he had ever really known, all because he had lost control of his magic in a moment of anger.

If he only had to answer to Professor Dumbledore, or even Professor McGonagall, he was relatively certain that he would be able to explain himself, but the Ministry of Magic, based on his previous experience—in which case he hadn't even done the magic he had gotten in trouble for—would not be so forgiving. For using magic like that on a muggle, they might even arrest him.

He sat there, trying to calm himself down, and figure out what he could do. As far as he knew, the Ministry could have already sent someone to the house. With no muggle money, and no way to contact anyone with Hedwig out hunting, Harry's only means of escape were by foot, dragging his trunk behind him, or with more magic, and more magic would only make it easier for the Ministry to find him.

Though he supposed it was unlikely that the Ministry could detect the Magic of his invisibility cloak and maybe his broom, but he still had all of the things in his trunk to think about. He could abandon most of his possessions here in his trunk, or he could risk a quick little charm to make the trunk light as a feather, and pull it behind him as he flew his broomstick from under the cover of his invisibility cloak, and go . . .

Where could he go? Harry didn't know, but he did know that he couldn't stay on this wall and wait for the Ministry to find him. He was still within fairly close proximity to Privet Drive, and the Ministry had surely arrived by this point, if they weren't out looking for him already. He stood up, and looked up and down the street, seeing no one, but just as he bent down to open his trunk, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, coming from the yard of the nearest house.

Unnerved as he was and throwing caution to the wind, Harry muttered, "Lumos," revealing a great big black dog. His eyes burst open wide, and he nearly fell over in surprise, but closer examination revealed how skinny this animal was. It issued a low whine, and Harry couldn't help but pity the beast. "I'm sorry boy, but I don't have any food for you. I'm not even entirely sure where my next meal's going to come from."

The dog cocked its head to the side inquisitively. "I'm running away from home, and I have no idea where I'm going or how I'm going to live," Harry told it. "All I know is that I can't stay here. After blowing up Aunt Marge, the Ministry's likely to expel me from Hogwarts, and if that happens, I won't have anywhere to go anyways, because Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia will never take me back now."

He felt odd, explaining his problems to a dog, but by all appearances, it was perfectly content to listen to him. He reached out and scratched the things head; perhaps not the wisest choice considering that he had no idea where it had been or what parasites it may or may not have, but he felt that at the moment, he had bigger things to worry about. By all appearances it was a stray, but it seemed tame enough.

"Do you have any ideas?" Harry asked it. It barked in response, darting forward and nudging the wand in his other hand.

Both bemused and amused by the response, Harry replied, "More magic could be detected by the Ministry and give away my location. Any other ideas? 'Cause I'm only going to do that if I can't think of anything else."

The dog gave what sounded like an annoyed bark, stepping towards the curb of the street, and launched one paw high into the air, and held it there for a few seconds before looking back at him, almost . . . expectantly. Now it was Harry's turn to cock his head to the side inquisitively.

It huffed impatiently and nudged the hand holding his wand again, and repeated the gesture, quickly raising its paw high into the air.

Harry tentatively lifted his wand up above his head . . . but nothing happened. "What, dog?" Harry asked exasperatedly. "What are you trying to tell me?"

The dog barked and repeated his gesture several times, launching its paw up even faster, so fast on the last one that it nearly lost its balance. Taking the hint, Harry quickly shot his wand up high over his head, and visibly jumped when he heard a loud BANG! The dog yelped, perhaps in terror, running off into the night as the bright headlights appeared out of nowhere, heralding a violently purple, triple-decker bus.

Before Harry had even fully registered what had happened, a conductor in a purple uniform leapt forth from the bus and loudly announced, "Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded Witch or Wizard. Just stick out your wand hand, step on board, and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike, and I will be your conductor this evening."

As Stan finished this introduction, he noticed Harry's dumbfounded expression. "What? There somfink on my face?"

"Erm, no…" Harry replied a bit flustered, noticing that there were a great number of pimples on his face, and how young this guy was. "Sorry, I'm a bit distracted."

"You did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand 'and . . . dincha?"

"Of course," Harry said quickly. "But you'll take me anywhere I want to go?"

"Long's it's on land, anywhere you like."

"How much to get to London?"

"Eleven sickles, but for firteen…" he went on about something to do with chocolate and a toothbrush, but Harry quickly pulled his money bag from his trunk and paid the man, taking a minute to look down the street where the dog had run.

"'Choo lookin' at?"

"Nothing," Harry replied, lifting his trunk with Stan's help.

"Woss your name?" Stan asked as they climbed aboard.

"Neville Longbottom," Harry replied, saying the first name that came to mind.

Once inside, the first thing Harry noticed was that instead of seats, the bus was equipped with rows of beds one noticeably occupied by a tiny wizard muttering in his sleep something about pickled slugs. "You 'ave this one," Stan told him quietly as he shoved Harry's trunk under the bed just behind the driver.

"Our driver, Ernie Prang. Ern, Neville Longbottom."

Ern, a wizard wearing thick eyeglasses, nodded to Harry, who nodded back with a polite smile, and sat down on his bed.

"Take 'er away, Ern." Stan said, and off they went again with a loud BANG!

Even after attending Hogwarts for two years and getting used to magic, Harry found himself amazed at how no matter how crazy Ern drove, they never hit anything. Mailboxes and lampposts would just automatically jump out of the way and back into place when they were gone. Harry guessed that the bus was also charmed to keep the muggles from noticing them.

After a moment, Ern said something to Stan about needing to wake one of the passengers upstairs for their stop, so he disappeared for a moment, returning with a rather green looking witch, and the bus stopped soon after, dropping her off and dumping her luggage behind her. Stan slammed the door shut and they shot forward with another BANG!

Harry's thoughts drifted back to his situation. He had a ride to London, but what would he do when he got there? Walk into Diagon Alley, and get some gold from his vault? And do what with it? Where could he go after that? He was lucky to have stumbled onto transportation so convenient to his situation, but such luck could not last.

This made him think of the big black dog. The dog couldn't have known what it was doing, it was only a dog right? He reminded himself of Professor McGonagall, who could turn herself into a cat, but he quickly dismissed that possibility. If it had been a witch or wizard in animal form, it could have transfigured itself back into a human if it had wanted to help him. And it had reacted as one would expect from an animal to the loud bang when the Knight bus had appeared. It must have been mere coincidence.

These thoughts were interrupted as Stan pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet, and the front page revealed a large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair.

"Who is that man? He was on the muggle news."

Stan turned the page to see what Harry was talking about and chuckled. "Where you been, Neville? Course 'e was on the muggle news. That there's Sirius Black." He removed the front page and handed it to Harry. "You oughta read the papers more."

Harry quickly read through the article. Apparently Sirius Black was a mass murdering lunatic, now infamous for being the first ever escapee of Azkaban Prison, where he had been locked up after killing thirteen people with a single curse.

After this, Stan got very chatty, with Ern interjecting now and then, and told Harry all about how he killed those people—mostly muggles—with a single curse, and laughed afterwards, going quietly when the Ministry came after him, still laughing.

After quite some time, after dropping off passengers all over Britain, it seemed like Harry was the last passenger on the bus. "Whereabouts in London, Neville?" Stan asked him.

"Diagon Alley."

"Righto. 'Old tight then…"

BANG!

The sky was growing lighter, and Harry still had no idea exactly what he would do. He could try and get some gold from his vault at Gringotts. He could lay low until they opened, and then…

The bus stopped just outside the Leaky Cauldron, and after Stan helped Harry with his trunk, he was telling him, "Thanks," but Stan's eyes were glued to the space behind him.

"There you are Harry," a voice said as a hand fell on his shoulder.

"What choo call 'im Minister? 'Arry?" Stan asked. "'Arry Potter?!" he exclaimed after a second. "Blimey, Ern come out 'ere! You won't believe 'oo Neville is!"

"Yes, thank you," Cornelius Fudge said tiredly, "I'm grateful the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I need to step into the Leaky Cauldron now . . ."

Hand still tightly on Harry's shoulder, the Minister of Magic quickly steered Harry inside the establishment. Through the door and behind the bar stood the bald, toothless old landlord, Tom, bearing a lantern.

"I see you've found him, Minister," he said. "Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?"

"Perhaps a pot of Tea," Fudge replied, still not releasing Harry's shoulder. Stan and Ern came in behind them, bearing his trunk.

"Why dincha tell us 'oo you were, Neville?" Stan asked beaming.

"And could we get a private parlor, please, Tom?" Fudge asked.

"'Bye," Harry said miserably to Stan and Ern, knowing that he was about to be expelled, and imagining the Minister taking his wand from him and snapping it right before his eyes.

"'Bye, Neville!" Stan called from behind them as Tom led he and Fudge through a passage leading away from the bar, beyond which they found a small parlor.

With a snap of Tom's fingers, a fire burst to life in the grate, and the wizened old barkeep left them in privacy.

Fudge indicated that he could sit down, so Harry sat, and the Minister sat opposite him. "My name is Cornelius Fudge, Harry. I am the Minister of Magic." he began.

Not wanting the Minister to know that he already knew this—the last time he'd seen the minister having been while he was under his invisibility cloak—Harry simply replied nervously, "It's a pleasure to meet you Minister."

Tom returned, bringing a tray tea and crumpets, which he left on the small table between Fudge and Harry. He then left the room, closing the door behind him.

"You gave us all quite a scare, Harry." Fudge said, pouring their tea. "Running away from your aunt and uncle's like that. We were worried that . . . well . . . I'm just glad that you're safe."

Harry held his breath. This was it; Fudge was going to tell him that he was going to be expelled for blowing up his aunt, and wasting the Ministry's time and resources searching for him, when they were supposed to be out looking for Sirius Black. He had really screwed up this time.

"Eat something, Harry. You look dead on your feet," the Minister told him. "Members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department have been to your house and taken care of the unfortunate business regarding Miss Marjorie Dursley. She has been deflated, and her memory has been modified so that she has no recollection of the incident whatsoever. So, that's that, and no harm done."

Hearing that last sentence, Harry's heart skipped a beat. Did this mean that he wasn't in trouble?

"Ah, I suppose you'll be worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle? Well, there's no denying that they are extremely angry about what happened, but they have agreed to take you back next summer, but insist that you remain at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays."

With his anger, Harry finally found his voice, "I always stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays, and I never want to go back to Privet Drive, ever again."

"Now, now, I'm sure you'll feel differently once you've calmed down some," Fudge said, though a bit worriedly. "But that still leaves us with the question of where you'll be spending the rest of your summer vacation. My suggestion is that you take a room here at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Wait," Harry said, "What about my punishment? I broke the law. The Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wiz—."

"Oh, don't worry about that, dear boy. It was an accident! We aren't about to ship you off to Azkaban for something like that! At your young age, it's easy to lose control."

"Last year, I got an official warning after a house elf smashed a pudding in my uncle's house that said I would be expelled if there was any more magic there," Harry replied with a frown. "Isn't this a trifle more serious than that, Sir?"

Fudge looked a bit uncomfortable at this. "Circumstances change, Harry. Given the current climate—"

"You mean the business with Sirius Black?"

"Oh you've heard? Well . . . yes." If the Minister had looked a bit uncomfortable before, he certainly did now.

"Well, what does that have to do with me? Surely that makes the circumstances worse, not better. Why wouldn't I be punished?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Surely you don't want to be expelled?"

"Of course not, but—"

"Well, then what's all the fuss about?" Fudge laughed forcibly. "Now have a crumpet, Harry, and I'll go and see if Tom has a room for you."

Something wasn't right here. Why would Fudge be here if not to punish him? And why would he be here personally anyways? Surely the Minister of Magic had more important things to deal with than a simple matter of underage magic? That couldn't be standard procedure.

Fudge came back accompanied by Tom. "Room eleven is free, Harry. Now just one thing, I don't want you wandering off into muggle London by yourself, alright? Keep to Diagon Alley, and be back here before dark each night."

"Why? Because of Sirius Black?" Harry asked without thinking, and was surprised by the strained expression this question gave the Minister's face.

"Well . . . in all honesty . . . yes."

"And what exactly does he have to do with me?" Harry wanted to know.

"Nothing, of course."

Harry had to stop himself from pressing Fudge further. It wouldn't do to press his luck after everything that had happened. Plus, he didn't want to seem ungrateful, so he settled on a doubtful frown instead.

The Minister sighed and said, "We've all been a bit unhinged at the Ministry since that madman's escape. And when you disappeared from your aunt and uncle's we all feared . . ." Fudge paused for a minute, clearly struggling with how much he should say. "We just don't want to lose you again. We thought that . . . well . . . you disappearing so soon after Black escaped from Azkaban. Granted it was a leap in reasoning, but it was a possibility we couldn't ignore. Don't forget, you're the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry! You understand?"

Harry still had the feeling that there was more to this than Fudge was letting on, but he realized he'd gotten just about as much out of the man as he was going to get, so he nodded in the affirmative despite his doubts.

"Alright, now please, just do as I ask, don't wander into muggle London, stick to Diagon Alley, and be back here before dark every night. Can you promise me that?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Tom will be keeping an eye on you for me. Now I need to get going. Enjoy your stay here; just be careful."

And with that, Fudge left. Tom stepped forward and said with a bright smile, "Now if you'll just follow me, Mr. Potter, your things have already been brought up to your room.

Harry followed Tom up a rather handsome wooden staircase to a door with a brass number eleven on it. Tom unlocked it for him and handed him the key. "I hope you find the room to your liking."

The first thing Harry noticed as he stepped into the room was a snowy owl perched atop the wardrobe.

"Hedwig!" he gasped, and she immediately fluttered down to his arm.

"Smart owl, that one," Tom said. "She arrived only five minutes after you did. If there's anything else you need, you only have to ask." And with a bow, he left the room.

Harry sat on the bed and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He wouldn't be expelled from Hogwarts or even worse, get sent to Azkaban. He would be getting out of this completely scot-free, and he would get to spend the rest of the summer holidays away from the Dursleys'. Still though, he knew that Fudge was hiding something from him, and he was pretty sure that it had something to do with Sirius Black, about whom the only things he really knew were that he was a mass murderer and that he was one of Voldemort's supporters.

After a while as the sky began to turn pink, he finally decided to lie down. "It's been a weird night, Hedwig," he told the snowy owl and went straight to sleep without even removing his glasses.

Author's Note: As always, I'd love to hear what you think. Leave a review!