Harry Potter and The Serpent’s Rage

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/61495135.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Harry Potter & Hermione Granger, Harry Potter & Draco Malfoy, Harry
Potter & Theodore Nott, Harry Potter & Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter &
Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter & Daphne Greengrass, Harry Potter &
Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter &
Original Character
Characters: Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Daphne Greengrass,
Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Neville Longbottom,
Ginny Weasley, Ron Weasley, Remus Lupin, Severus Snape, Sirius
Black, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid,
Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Slytherin Ginny
Weasley, Draco isn't a prat in this one, Alternate Universe, slytherin
friendship, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Harry has a snake, and we
love her, Harry can't stop raging, Angst ig?, Decent Slyherins, Well
maybe not all of them - Freeform, No beta: we die like James and Lily
Potter
Language: English
Series: Part 3 of Harry Potter and the Games of Fate
Stats: Published: 2024-12-20 Words: 5,165 Chapters: 1/22
 Harry Potter and The Serpent’s Rage
by Thalassa_05

Summary

After an eventful 2nd year, all Harry Potter wishes for is peace and quiet.
But when his Godfather breaks out of the illustrious wixen prison, and he finds himself on
the streets, Harry knows it is about to get worse.

Notes

And we are BACK!!!!!

I am so glad to bring forth the newest installment of Harry Potter and the Games of Fate!! I
hope you all stick around for this story!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, and this fic is based off the series and some chapters
may contain scenes from Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

In this universe there are only 3 Horcruxes: the Diary, the Gaunt's Ring, and Nagini. Harry is
also a Horcruxs. I'm not adding the items of the founders since I don't believe that the
founders didn't put some sort of enchantment on their items.

See the end of the work for more notes

The cold floor was starting to bother Harry.

He had been sitting on the curb for what felt like hours. The cold, frigid air slicing against his
bones, down to his very core. His clothes weren't enough to protect him from the onslaught,
and he didn't trust his surroundings to pull out a cloak from his trunk. So Harry wasn’t a
happy camper.

And the thought that the Ministry was most definitely going to send Aurors to send him to
prison for something that wasn't even his fault did add to the irritation he was feeling.

I mean sure, he DID use magic on his aunt and she DID swell up to the size of a small shed,
but she truly had it coming. She had come in and thrown her luggage at Harry, had bossed
him around more than the Durselys did, snapping her hands at him as if he were a dog, which
is funny because she’d NEVER treat her hounds like that, especially Ripper. Harry had tried
to keep a nice distance from the beast. He was still scared of Ripper, even if it had been 4
years ago since the incident.

Then after she had a few too many drinks, she thought she knew best on why Harry was the
way he was. (completely disregarding the fact that she barely knew him) And it wasn't like
Harry could speak back to her, he needed his uncle to sign his permission slip to Hogsmeade
for him, so he bit his tongue so hard that it bled and tried to keep silent. Marge had made
herself at home and engaged in her favourite hobby: Criticizing Harry. From his hair, to how
he was an orphan, even about how he blinked (apparently there was too much attitude in how
he closed his eyes?)

Harry tried to think about how much fun he'd have at Hogsmeade and that it was alright, only
3 more days left, he could withstand the verbal abuse.

His only solace was Hedwig and Gwyn. When Aunt Marge had first seen the owl, she threw
a fit saying that the sounds would keep her up at night. But Uncle Vernon had told her that
Hedwig was a test for Harry, to see if he could be trusted with live creatures. Then she started
running her mouth about how orphans were more likely to commit murders. And he was
about to prove her right.

Harry was almost in the clear, but then she started to talk about his parents, how his mother
was a “Bad egg” and his father a “Drunken wayward.” Harry wanted to yell out that his
parents were none of that, that his parents were amazing, and they didn’t mooch off of his
aunt and uncle. But Marge was on a train and there was no stopping her, she spoke of how his
parents died in a car crash as the good for nothing drunks they were, and Harry lost it. He had
no clue how he did so, but Aunt Marge had started to grow larger and larger, until she had
floated out of the house.

And here he was, alone at night, on a dirty curb and defenceless. He had Gwyn but he
wondered how much trouble a snake could cause? Hedwig was in her cage and she was
sleeping, her head tucked under her wing. Gwyn was around Harry’s neck and was nodding
off.
“Are we going to stay here forever or do you have a plan?” Gwyn hissed softly, her warm
breath hitting Harry.

“In a bit, I'm trying to figure out where to go.”

“What about the nice one who got me that bed? Let's see him again!”

Harry tilted his head to look at her, “Did you not want to eat him? Besides, his dad would
rather fry me alive than let me stay with him.” Harry waited for Gwyn to speak but she
remained silent. He would have been on his way to Blaise’s but they were at the Alps, and
Harry didn’t want to bother them. But one thing was for certain: Harry had to get a move on.
If he lingered here for too long there was a high chance of Dursley's finding him and he didn't
want to know what happened if they did.

He stood up and grabbed his broom and trunk and made his way down straight towards the
main road, thinking about what he could do or where he could go. Diagon Alley was an
option, there were quite a few hotels that Harry saw on his last trip, he could even stay at The
Leaky Cauldron. But getting there would be an issue, it was late at night and he was 100%
sure the police would come and question why a 13 year old was walking alone with an owl, a
broom and a trunk, especially on the main road.

Harry kept walking, he could cast a spell and make his trunk lighter, he was already in
trouble, it’d be alright. And he could use his cloak, but what of Hedwig? She could fly up to
Diagon Alley, but selfishly Harry wanted her around.

Harry headed down the road when a funny prickling feeling on the back of his neck made
him feel as if he were being watched. But the street appeared to be deserted, and no lights
shone from any of the large square houses. Harry raised his wand, expulsion be damned.

“Lumos,” Harry muttered, and a light appeared at the end of his wand, almost dazzling him.
He held it high over his head, and the pebble-dashed walls of number two suddenly sparkled;
the garage door gleamed, and between them Harry saw, quite distinctly, the hulking outline of
something very big, with wide, gleaming eyes. A large black dog was stilling still, almost too
still, and staring right at him.

His instincts screamed at him to run away, he saw a vision of large teeth digging into his
throat, his chest covered in blood. But the dog was still, its eyes still on Harry.

It took a small step forward, then another. It didn’t seem hostile so biting the bullet, Harry
slowly knelt down and raised his hand, reaching it out towards the dog. The dog slowly
crossed the distance, and he saw how large it was, it was more wolf than dog and it looked
like it hadn't been fed in a while. The dog softly put its nose on Harry’s hand, and Harry let
out a breath. After the fear had passed, Harry thought about how silly it was to offer his hand
to a stray dog.

“Where’s your family?” he asked as he started to stroke the dog, who leaned into it, resting
its head on Harry’s knee. The look on the dog's face was so full of sorrow, and Harry felt his
heart squeeze.
“Here boy,” Harry popped open his trunk and rummaged through, looking for something to
feed the poor dog. He came out lucky and found a bread roll he had snuck out from the
pantry and gave it to the dog. It snarfed the whole thing down and looked at Harry. He pulled
out a black cloak whilst he was at it, and he sighed as he put it on.

“That’s all I have, I'm sorry” he started to scratch the dog’s ears. “You have to find some
food, try to go to the dumpsters near the bakery, they have some food. And find some strays
to stick with.” When the dog looked up, Harry felt stupid. He was so used to animals
somewhat understanding him that he forgot that most didn’t.

“Ignore me.” The dog tilted its head in an almost human manner but dropped its head when
Harry kept scratching its ears. The dog and Harry stayed still for what felt like ages as Harry
played with his wand, twisting it over and over again, thinking about what to do. It caught the
dog's attention and it looked at Harry's wand, its head awfully still, until it nudged its nose
into Harry's hand, the wand clanking onto the street and Harry lunged for it, grasping it
before it fell in the gutter.

He grabbed his wand and turned to look where the dog was but it had vanished.

Then the floor started to rumble, and there was a deafening BANG, and Harry threw up his
hands to shield his eyes against a sudden blinding light.

With a yell, he rolled back onto the pavement, just in time. A second later, a gigantic pair of
wheels and headlights had screeched to a halt exactly where Harry had just been lying. They
belonged, as Harry saw when he raised his head, to a triple-decker, violently purple bus,
which had appeared out of thin air. Gold lettering over the windscreen spelled ‘The Knight
Bus.’

For a split second, Harry wondered if he had been knocked silly by his fall. Then a conductor
in a purple uniform leapt out of the bus and began to speak loudly into the night.

“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 eve–”

The conductor stopped abruptly. He had just caught sight of Harry, who was still sitting on
the ground. Harry snatched up his wand again and scrambled to his feet. Close to, he saw that
Stan Shunpike was only a few years older than he was; eighteen or nineteen at most, with
large, protruding ears and a fair few pimples.

“What were you doin’ down there?” said Stan, dropping his professional manner.

“I fell over.” Harry stood up, his robes had a tear and his hand was bleeding. He looked
around for Gwyn, and found her lying a few steps away. He reached over to her and gingerly
picked her up.

“Perhaps warn me next time?” she hissed.

“‘Choo fall over for?’ sniggered Stan.

“Forget that, what’s the bus doing here?” He looked around at Stan, whose mouth was
slightly open. With a feeling of unease, Harry saw Stan’s eyes move to the scar on Harry’s
forehead. Shit, if the Ministry was looking for him, the scar was a dead giveaway.

“Woss that on your head?” said Stan abruptly. Harry flattened his hair and gave a smile.

“Woss your name?” Stan persisted.

“Evan.” His mothers maiden name should work. Stan stopped with the questions and Harry
looked at the large bus.

“Now when you say this bus goes anywhere-”

“Anywhere you like, long’s it’s on land. Can’t do nuffink underwater. ’Ere,” he said, looking
suspicious again, “you did flag us down, dincha? Stuck out your wand ’and, dincha?”

“Yes I did, how’s Diagon Alley? Can you do that?”

“Course. It's Eleven Sickles,” said Stan, "but for firteen you get ’ot chocolate, and for fifteen
you get an ’ot-water bottle an’ a toofbrush in the colour of your choice.”

Harry rummaged once more in his trunk, extracted his money bag and shoved some silver
into Stan’s hand. He and Stan then lifted his trunk, with Hedwig’s cage balanced on top, up
the steps of the bus.

There were no seats; instead, half-a-dozen brass bedsteads stood beside the curtained
windows. Candles were burning in brackets beside each bed, illuminating the wood-panelled
walls. A tiny wizard in a nightcap at the rear of the bus muttered, “Not now, thanks, I’m
pickling some slugs,” and rolled over in his sleep.

“You ’ave this one,” Stan whispered, shoving Harry’s trunk under the bed right behind the
driver, who was sitting in an armchair in front of the steering wheel. “This is our driver, Ernie
Prang. This is Evan- ey you never told me your last name.”

“It’s Drew.”

“Evan Drew he says. Ernie.”

Ernie Prang, an elderly wizard wearing very thick glasses, nodded to Harry, who nervously
flattened his fringe again and sat down on his bed.

“Take ’er away, Ern,” said Stan, sitting down in the armchair next to Ernie’s.

Harry wished he didn’t. There was another tremendous BANG, and the next moment Harry
found himself flat on his bed, thrown backwards by the speed of the Knight Bus. Pulling
himself up, Harry stared out of the dark window and saw that they were now bowling along a
completely different street. Stan was watching Harry’s stunned face 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. “Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan,” said Ern. “We’ll be in
Abergavenny in a minute.”

Stan passed Harry’s bed and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Harry was still
looking out of the window, feeling increasingly nervous. Ernie didn’t seem to have mastered
the use of a steering wheel. The Knight Bus kept mounting the pavement, but it didn’t hit
anything; lines of lamp posts, letter-boxes and bins jumped out of its way as it approached
and back into position once it had passed.

Stan came back downstairs, followed by a faintly green witch wrapped in a travelling cloak.
She departed the bus and her bags followed. After a bit the bus sped away, leaving Harry’s
stomach behind. The only one who seemed to enjoy it was Gwyn, she’d squeal every time the
bus swerved and she laughed the whole way. Harry wondered how people were able to move
up and down the bus with ease, or be fine whilst sitting.

Harry looked at his clothes, covered in dirt and grim. He stood up, his knees buckling the
whole time.

“Have you got a bathroom?” he yelled over the traffic.

“On your left.” Harry went to his trunk and managed to get another pair of clean robes out.
He went to the toilet, it was clean enough, as clean as a bus toilet could be. The toilet bowl
did have some brown stuff at the bottom, and Harry would rather not take a shower. He
donned his grey robes and tried to think about a plan, he could try and take some money out,
and get a small place. But the Ministry would find out. Staying at a hotel till the start of the
school year was his best bet.

“Could you perhaps brood outside this filthy place? My nose hurts.” Gwyn asked and Harry
left. He went back to his bed but saw Stan reading the Daily Prophet. There was a man on the
cover with hollow cheeks and staring dead at Harry. He looked half dead and his gaze gave
Harry a feeling of unease.

“Why does he look familiar?” Harry had the faintest memory about a convict? Stan
wordlessly handed Harry the paper, he held the paper up to the candlelight and read:

BLACK STILL AT LARGE!

Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still
eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today.

“We are doing all we can to recapture Black,” said the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge,
this morning, “and we beg the magical community to remain calm.”

Fudge has been criticised by some members of the 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 to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister’s assurance
that he will not breathe 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 which
Muggles use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of
twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse.

Sirius Black.

Harry's Godfather had just escaped Azkaban, the most heavily guarded prison.

Harry took in a closer look at Sirius, his grey eyes a stark contrast to his grim covered face,
the only part that seemed alive. This was the man his parents wanted him to be raised by.
Harry noticed Stan looking at him, he kept his gaze down and turned the paper.

“Fudge seems like he's in hot water, eh? A person breaking out of Azkaban.” He shook his
head, trying to act like Uncle Vernon when he read the papers. It seemed it was the right thing
to say because Stan scoffed.

“Don't I know it, people ‘ave already been saying that he's off his mind, hiding behind
Dumbledore’s robe tails, let's see him avoid this mess.”

“But Azkaban…” Harry trailed off. He remembered Hagrid being taken there by said
Minister. And Hagrid hadn't wanted to talk about it. How could Sirius survive all that time?

Harry should have felt concerned about the dangers but a part of him felt… happy? He was
his Godfather, the only family he hadn't outside of his muggle relatives. And he had to be
somewhat reliable right? His parents wouldn't trust him otherwise?

“Say you go mad after 2 days in there. I'd rather them drag my corpse then go back
willingly.” Stan said darkly and Harry echoed the sentiment.

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 Harry leant against the window of the Knight Bus,
feeling worse than ever. He couldn’t help imagining what Stan might be telling his
passengers in a few nights’ time.

“’Ear about that Harry Potter? Blew up ’is Aunt! We ’ad ’im ’ere on the Knight Bus, di’n’t
we, Ern? ’E was tryin’ to run for it …”

Harry doubted he would get sent to Azkaban, there had to be another place where people got
sent, maybe like a normal prison. Or maybe he was trying to convince himself otherwise.
The Knight Bus rolled through the darkness, scattering bushes and bollards, telephone boxes
and trees, and Harry lay, restless and miserable, on his feather bed. After a while, Stan
remembered that Harry had paid for hot chocolate, but poured it all over Harry’s pillow when
the bus moved abruptly from Anglesey to Aberdeen. One by one, wizards and witches in
dressing-gowns and slippers descended from the upper floors to leave the bus. They all
looked very pleased to go.

Finally, Harry was the only passenger left.

“Right then, Evan,” said Stan, clapping his hands, “Where'd you say again?”

“Diagon Alley,” said Harry.

“Righto,” said Stan, “’old tight, then …”

BANG!

They were thundering along Charing Cross Road. Harry sat up and watched buildings and
benches squeezing themselves out of the Knight Bus’s way. The sky was getting a little
lighter. He'd find a place to stay, take some gold out and wait out the month.

Ern slammed on the brakes and the Knight Bus skidded to a halt in front of a small and
shabby-looking pub, the Leaky Cauldron, behind which lay the magical entrance to Diagon
Alley.

“Thank you.” Harry said to Ern.

He jumped down the steps and helped Stan lower his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the
pavement.

“Can we go on it again?” Harry would rather lick the toilet than do that again. Harry
grabbed his bag and got off. He turned to thank Stan but he wasn’t paying attention. Still
standing in the doorway to the bus, he was goggling at the shadowy entrance to the Leaky
Cauldron.

“There you are, Harry,” said a voice.

Before Harry could turn, he felt a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Stan shouted,
“Blimey! Ern, come ’ere! Come ’ere”

Harry looked up at the owner of the hand on his shoulder and felt a bucketful of ice cascade
into his stomach – he had walked right into Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic himself.

Shit.

Stan leapt onto the pavement beside them.

‘What didja call Evan, Minister?’ he said excitedly.

“Evan?” The Minister repeated, frowning. “This is Harry Potter.”

“I knew it!” Stan shouted gleefully. “Ern! Ern! Guess ’oo Evan is, Ern! ’E’s ’Harry Potter! I
can see his scar!”

“Yes,” said Fudge testily. “Well, I’m very glad the Knight Bus picked Harry up, but he and I
need to step inside the Leaky Cauldron now …”

Fudge increased the pressure on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry found himself being steered
inside the pub. A stooping figure bearing a lantern appeared through the door behind the bar.
It was Tom, the wizened, toothless landlord.

“You’ve got him, Minister!” said Tom. “Will you be wanting anything? Beer? Brandy?”

“Perhaps a pot of tea,” said Fudge, who still hadn’t let go of Harry.

There was a loud scraping and puffing from behind them, and Stan and Ern appeared,
carrying Harry’s trunk and Hedwig’s cage and looking around excitedly.

“’Ow come you di’n’t tell us ’oo you are, eh, Evan?” said Stan, beaming at Harry, while
Ernie’s owlish face peered interestedly over Stan’s shoulder.

“And a private parlour, please, Tom,” said Fudge pointedly.

“Bye,” Harry said to Stan and Ern, shrugging off the minister’s grip and following Tom
towards the passage that led from the bar, the Minister in front of him.

“Bye, Evan!” called Stan.

The dim light of Tom’s lantern led Harry and The Minister through a narrow passage and into
a small parlour. Tom clicked his fingers, a fire burst into life in the grate, and he bowed
himself out of the room.

“Sit down, Harry,” said Fudge, indicating a chair by the fire.

Harry sat down, and took a closer look at the Minister. It seemed that his horror sense of style
hadn’t changed, it had gotten worse. He was still in the bottle green suit and swapped out the
purple shoes for Green ones. And to top it all off a pinstripe cloak. Harry felt like he was
getting tortured with colours.

Fudge took off his monstrosity of a cloak and tossed it aside, then hitched up the trousers of
his bottle-green suit and sat down opposite Harry.

“I am Cornelius Fudge, Harry. The Minister of Magic.” he said in a tone of superiority, his
head high. This wasn't new information to Harry, he had seen him last year when he had sent
Hagrid to Azkban with no proper information. But he kept his mouth shut.

Tom the innkeeper reappeared, wearing an apron over his nightshirt and bearing a tray of tea
and crumpets. He placed the tray on a table between Fudge and Harry and left the parlour,
closing the door behind him.
“Well, Harry,” said Fudge, pouring out tea, “you’ve had us all in a right flap, I don’t mind
telling you. Running away from your aunt and 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 toward Harry.

Harry picked up the scone and nibbled it. He put it down and Gwyn took the chance to slide
down his neck and swallow it whole.

“Of course I'd be safe-”

“Dear Morgana, that's a snake!” The Minister let out a girlish scream and Harry smiled
behind his cup of tea.

“Oh don’t mind her Minister, she’s my pet. She called Gwyneth.”

Fudge smoothed down his shirt and picked up his scone.

“Oh of course.” He moved his seat back a bit and smiled. But yes you are safe, and that’s all
that matters! Now then . . . You will be pleased to hear that we have dealt with the
unfortunate blowing-up of Miss Marjorie Dursley. Two members of the Accidental Magic
Reversal Squad were dispatched to Privet Drive a few hours ago. Miss Dursley has been
punctured and her memory has been modified. She has no recollection of the incident at all.
So that’s that, and no harm done.”

Fudge smiled at Harry over the rim of his teacup, rather like an uncle surveying a favourite
nephew. It truly wouldn't have fazed Harry if his aunt had died.

“Ah, you’re worrying about the reaction of your aunt and uncle?” said Fudge.

“Not really to be-”

“Well, I won’t deny that they are extremely angry, Harry, but they are prepared to take you
back next summer as long as you stay at Hogwarts for the Christmas and Easter holidays.”

“I mean I always stay at Hogwarts for breaks, and I'm not too keen on going back there,
thank you very much.”

“Now, now, I’m sure you’ll feel differently once you’ve calmed down,” said Fudge in a
worried tone. “They are your family, after all, and I’m sure you are fond of each other — er
— very deep down.” Fudge looked at Harry like he was a small child acting out, and Harry
realised he really didn't like the Minister all that much. Harry raised an eyebrow and the
Minister gave a watery smile.

“So all that remains,” said Fudge, now buttering himself a second crumpet, “is to decide
where you’re going to spend the last three weeks of your vacation. I suggest you take a room
here at the Leaky Cauldron-” but then the Minister looked at the door. It had been opened and
a small girl popped her head in, her eyes widening after she met Harry’s gaze.
“It’s Harry Potter!” Harry was spared the need to speak with her, as her father came in and
pulled her away, but not after lingering on Harry's forehead.

“Maybe alternative lodgings should be found.” Fudge said as he waved his wand, the door
locking shut. “But all is well.”

“Sure, but am I in trouble? You know about blowing up Aunt Marge?”

“Dear boy, we aren't going to punish you for that!” He laughed, “Happens to us all!”

I doubt that. Harry thought. The minister stood up and put on the hideous hat. “Let’s go,
Harry. No, forget the luggage, I'll have it brought to you.” Harry garbed a scone and tore it
into chunks, he put it into Hedwig’s cage alongside a saucer of water. Then he followed the
Minister outside. Diagon Alley was still active, even though it was night. Some shops were
still open and even more were opening up.

But as Harry and the minister walkled, Harry noticed a few witches and wizards standing still
and looking out of place. After noticing the first 2, Harry brushed off thinking it was just a
coincidence, but after the next few, Harry felt like he was being watched. After taking a few
turns, they were in front of a large hotel. They went inside and Harry was shell shocked.

It was bigger on the inside and the lobby was stunning. It had comfy chairs and couches in
the centre with a large centrepiece. Soft music was playing and there was a scent that Harry
couldn't name wafting through. The hall was mainly cream and gold coloured, the walls
covered with pictures of wixen that Harry didn’t know. There were 2 young witches at the
front desk.

As the Minister was talking to the witch up front, Harry looked outside and saw a young
woman, probably 20, looking at him. But when she caught Harry looking at him, she walked
away and seemed to trip over her own feet. Harry wanted to follow her but the Minister
called him over.

“That’s your room card and your stuff should be up there.” He clapped Harry’s shoulder and
handed him the card.

“Thank you sir.” Fudge waved Harry off.

“No worries. But a word of advice, try not to stray away from Diagon Alley, Harry. It's quite
dangerous nowadays.”

“You mean Sirius Black right?” the colour drained from the Minister's face and he looked at
Harry wide eyed.

“You know that-”

“That Sirius Black is my Godfather and he’s escaped Azkaban? Yeah.” he couldn’t hold back
a grin. Seeing the Minister fidget made him feel better.

“Then you must know- no forget that. Harry, you must stay safe. Be back before the sun sets
and keep your wand on you.”
“But what's the big deal -”

“Harry.” Fudge stared at Harry and Harry remembered that this was the Minister of Magic,
antagonising him would bring no good.

“Of course, Minister, I'll stay put.” The minister gave Harry one last pat and walked out.
Harry stood in his spot for a bit, trying to piece it all together. What was so bad about Sirius
Black?

“Mister Potter,” Harry turned to see a man in a cream shirt and a red overcoat standing
behind him. “May I escort you to your room?”

“Oh yeah sure.” They rode the lift and walked down a hall that looked like it cost thousands
to make. The man took Harry’s room card and showed him how to open the door.

Harry stepped into the room and looked around. The room was large and spacious, with a
king size bed against a wall and a radio across from it. The floor was carpeted and felt like
Harry was walking on clouds. On the left side of the bed was a tall shelf which managed to
separate the bed area from the seating area.

There was a large window taking up the space of a whole wall and Harry looked down to see
all of the Diagon alley. The seating area was in front of the large window and had two lounge
chairs and a glass table in the middle, and Harry was created by the familiar sight of Hedwig
and her cage. On the right hand side of the bed was a door that led to a toilet with a separate
shower and bath.

As Harry turned around to thank the busboy and bid him farewell he found him holding a
small notebook and quill.

“Mister Potter, if I trouble you for a signature? It's just that, you know - you’re Harry Potter!”
he laughed, and Harry didn't have the heart in him to deny it. Harry took the pen and paper
but he didn't know how to leave a signature. In the end he just wrote H. Potter, and gave the
notebook and pen back to the busboy who was smiling.

“Thank you so much Mister Potter truly!” he shook Harry's hand and left. Harry closed the
door and jumped on the bed, sinking into the plush covers. Gwyn slid off his neck and rested
on the pillows.

“This is much nicer than your bed.”

“I know.” Harry’s voice was muffled by the covers. He wanted to sleep like this but the bed
was too fancy for him not to change. He took his pajamas into the bathroom and took a quick
shower, vowing to take a long bath the next day.

He gave Hedwig some more water and let her free of her cage, leaving the window open for
her. He slid under the covers and was out instantly.
End Notes

And there we have it, chapter 1!

I have finished the whole fic, and let me tell you, I am very excited to post it!! There are 20
chapters, 1 interlude and 1 extra chapter.

Now for the update schedule, I'll be uploading chapters every 2 days, so the next chapter will
be out on the 23rd. The fic should be completed by mid February.

I’d love it if yall left Kudos and Comments. I love to talk to you all and I’ll see you on
Monday.

I hope you have a great day/night wherever you are and I love you all <3

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