Aragorn and the Anlomir family stepped out of the towering Ministry of Magic and into the crisp evening air. The main road stretched wide before them, lined with tall, rune-marked lampposts glowing faintly blue.
Following the instructions given by the Transportation Department, young Anlomir, who had barely stopped admiring his new wand all day, eagerly stepped forward to try it.
Raising it high toward the road, he called out, voice filled with excitement,
"Let's see if this really works!"
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then;
With a thunderous whoosh, something streaked through the distance, a blur of red and green light twisting and zigzagging between invisible lanes.
Before anyone could react, the blur slammed to a stop with a hiss of brakes and the unmistakable sound of magic humming in the air.
A red-and-green double-decker bus now stood before them, gleaming metal, wide glass windows, and polished brass fittings that shimmered like fire under the lamplight.
In a world where most travel was still done by horse and carriage, such a machine seemed utterly alien.
Even Aragorn, who had seen his fair share of wonders in Sylas's lands, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow in awe.
The Anlomir family stood speechless, eyes wide. The bus's very existence felt like a spell cast against reality itself.
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus!"
A cheerful young wizard in a red uniform, covered in freckles and enthusiasm, hopped down from the steps.
"This is an emergency transport service for stranded witches and wizards! Just stick out your wand and hop on, and we'll take you wherever you want to go!
I'm your ticket seller, Neil!"
He flashed a grin that could light up the whole street, then noticed the pile of bags and crates the group carried.
"Need a hand with those?" he offered.
Aragorn shook his head politely.
"No, thank you. We can manage."
Neil gave an exaggerated shrug of relief.
"Alright then, climb aboard! We've got a few more stops tonight!"
The group stepped onto the bus. The moment they entered, the air changed, it was warm, a little chaotic, and filled with the faint smell of burnt sugar and spell residue.
The interior was stranger still: brass railings twisted like vines, floating lanterns hung from nothing at all, and rows of narrow beds instead of seats filled the cabin.
As the last to board, Neil gave a sharp whistle and called toward the front,
"Alright, Earl! Everyone's on, let's roll!"
The driver, a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a pair of oversized goggles that magnified his eyes until they looked enormous, gave a thumbs-up.
"Hang on tight!" he shouted gleefully.
With a mighty roar and a crack of displaced air, the Knight Bus lurched forward, rocketing down the road like a comet set loose.
The entire group staggered backward as gravity seemed to vanish for a moment.
Neil reacted instantly, flicking his wand.
"Cushio!"
A soft magical cushion enveloped the passengers, preventing them from tumbling over completely.
As for Aragorn, he reacted quickly, using his agility to regain his balance.
He earned a surprised and admiring look from the ticket seller, Neil.
The ticket seller glanced at the group, then focused on Aragorn, who was clearly in the head seat. "Where are you headed?"
Aragorn answered, steady and precise:
"Rivercorner. The fork between the Azure and Echoing Rivers."
Neil turned to the front and shouted,
"You hear that, Earl?"
Earl raised one hand without looking back, forming a lazy "OK" in the air.
"See?" Neil said with a confident grin. "There's nowhere on this continent we can't go! One Galleon per passenger, four for your group. Oh, and for just one extra Sickle each, you get hot chocolate. Interested?"
Aragorn smiled politely but declined, pulling four Galleons from his belt pouch and handing them over.
In this high-speed environment, he could barely stand, let alone drink chocolate, he'd probably just get it splattered on his face.
The ticket seller, Neil, didn't seem at all disappointed that Aragorn had refused his hot chocolate pitch. With a cheerful shrug, he tore off four glowing tickets, handed them over, and led the group toward the back of the bus.
The Knight Bus, like so many magical things, was far larger on the inside than its unassuming exterior suggested. Rows of narrow bunk beds lined the aisle, their brass rails gleaming faintly in the lamplight. Some berths were occupied by dozing passengers, others empty, softly swaying with the motion of the bus.
"Here we are," Neil said, motioning toward an empty set of bunks. "It'll take us a while to reach Rivercorner. Best lie down and rest, I'll wake you when we get there."
Aragorn and the Anlomir family thanked him but chose not to lie down. Instead, they sat upright on their beds, gripping the iron bedposts tightly as if expecting the next wild jolt, which, on the Knight Bus, was never far off.
The world outside streaked by in a blur of color and shadow. Anlomir pressed close to the window, eyes wide, mouth open in silent awe.
The bus wasn't merely fast, it was impossible. One moment, it bounded up a hillside; the next, it tore through the trees like a streak of scarlet lightning.
Each time they thought they were about to crash into a boulder or trunk, the Knight Bus twisted, folded, or squeezed through as if reality itself had stepped aside to let it pass.
It was as though the forest itself bent out of respect, or fear, of the roaring, enchanted vehicle.
What unsettled Aragorn most, however, wasn't the speed. It was the driver.
Earl, his scruffy beard twitching with every lurch, was not only driving at breakneck pace but also multitasking in the most nerve-wracking way possible.
He turned around often to chat with Neil, laughing heartily, occasionally waving one hand off the wheel to emphasize a joke, or worse, to take a long swig from a dented metal flask.
Each time his back turned, Aragorn's hand twitched toward his sword out of reflex, and the Anlomir family went pale as ghosts. Only when Earl faced the road again did anyone dare to breathe.
After one particularly sharp turn, Neil spun around from the driver's cabin and leaned against the brass railing near their bunks, grinning.
"So!" he said brightly. "You folks are parents of new students, yeah? Came to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies?"
Aragorn inclined his head politely.
"That's right."
Neil's grin widened. His eyes softened when he looked at Anlomir, who clutched his wand case protectively.
"Lucky kid," Neil said wistfully. "You're gonna have the time of your life there."
He gave a fond sigh, his voice turning nostalgic.
"I studied at the castle once, too. Only for a year, mind you, wasn't the brightest student. Grades didn't make the cut, so I ended up here, selling tickets."
He laughed, but there was no bitterness in it, just warmth.
"Still, those were the happiest days I've ever had. You'll see, lad, Hogwarts Castle is full of wonders. Even if you spent a lifetime there, you'd never uncover all its secrets."
Hearing Neil's words, young Anlomir's face lit up with curiosity and longing.
"Mr. Neil," he asked eagerly, "can you tell me what's so magical about Hogwarts?"
Neil chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Ah, now where's the fun in that? You'll have to see it for yourself, lad. Some wonders can't be spoiled with words."
Anlomir leaned forward, clearly unsatisfied, but the ticket seller just winked. His air of mystery only made the boy's excitement grow stronger.
Even Aragorn, sitting across from them, gave a faint smile. Having once attended Sylas and Lady Arwen's wedding in the great castle, he knew the man was right. Hogwarts' magic couldn't be described, it had to be experienced.
The Knight Bus thundered on, racing across valleys and forests, stopping here and there to drop off other passengers. By the time the last rays of sunset brushed the horizon, the sky was painted in gold and violet.
Neil's voice rang through the aisle:
"River's End! Last stop! Passengers for River's End, please disembark!"
The group rose at once, eager to get off. The journey had been thrilling but nerve-wracking, between the bus's impossible turns and its carefree driver, even seasoned travelers like Aragorn were relieved to feel solid ground again.
As they stepped down, a soft evening breeze brushed their faces. To their astonishment, the Knight Bus had stopped right at their doorstep, without a single neighbor noticing.
No sound of engines, no screeching brakes.
Anlomir turned to look back, but before he could say a word, the doors swung shut with a quiet click.
The bus shimmered, its colors flaring red and green, then, like a shooting star, it vanished down the empty road, leaving behind only a rush of wind.
"Incredible," Aragorn murmured, awe still coloring his voice. "Truly remarkable magic."
He remembered today's experience vividly and felt immense respect for Sylas, the one who had created it all. Anlomir and his family, standing nearby, nodded in agreement.
...
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