In his first few weeks at Hogwarts, Harry Potter notices the bushy haired girl from the train struggling to fit in, but he already has a friend. He wants to be her friend too, but he's not sure how to be friends with two people who don't like each o...
Harry staggered down the steps of the garishly purple triple-decker bus almost as soon as it came to a screeching halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron. Never had he been happier for his feet to touch solid ground.
The pimply, grinning young bus-conductor dragged Harry's trunk to the steps, leaped down them himself, and grunted as he lifted the heavy trunk off the bus and set it on the wet pavement. The elderly bus driver passed Hedwig's cage and Harry's broomstick down the steps and the scruffy boy bus-conductor set them on top of the trunk.
"There y'go Neville - it was right nice meetin' you..."
"Er... thanks Mr Shunpike..." Harry said awkwardly. The bus-conductor sniggered loudly.
"Guess wot Ern'..." the conductor shouted up the steps at the bus driver, " Neville 'ere thinks I'm respectable enough to be a Mister..." He turned back to address Harry, "I'm barely outta 'Ogwarts meself - and only the professors ever called me Mister... Stan's good enough for me Neville..."
"Neville...? " queried a new voice, making Harry and Stan both jump out of their skins. Neither of them had noticed the worried looking portly figure in a pin-striped cloak and lime green bowler hat approaching from the front door of the Leaky Cauldron. "No, no... This is Harry Potter..."
Stan Shunpike gawked at Harry for a moment then yelled gleefully back up the steps of the bus at the wizened old bus-driver.
"I knew it Ern! I toldja 'e looked like 'Arry Potter... 'e's got the scar an' everyfing!"
"Yes... yes!" muttered the Minister of Magic as he glanced up and down the street anxiously. "There's no need to advertise - we really must be getting inside... come along Harry. Never mind about your things - Tom will see to them." And sure enough, Tom the Barman - and owner of the Leaky Cauldron - appeared in the doorway of the Pub with a cart.
"Er... bye Stan!" said Harry glumly as Cornelius Fudge led him into the wizard Pub.
Harry was certain that he was in loads of trouble now as he miserably followed the Minister down a corridor to a private parlour. Harry was stunned when the Fudge closed the door and beamed at him cheerfully.
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"Well, Harry - thank goodness you have arrived safely! And I must say, that was a jolly good spot of quick thinking on your part not to use your real name... Dumbledore is absolutely right about your sharp wits!"
"I'm not in trouble!?" gasped Harry, his jaw dropping.
"Trouble? Good Heavens no!" The Minister regarded Harry with the expression of a very concerned, kindly uncle. "Quite the contrary - I've been worried silly that something might have happened to you..."
"But I blew up Aunt Marge..." Harry interjected, thoroughly bewildered.
"Yes... yes! Quite... but not to worry. The Accidental Magic Reversal Squad are seeing to her," said Minister Fudge, his half-cheerful, half-concerned demeanor suddenly turning into a scowl. "I'm frankly far more concerned that your uncle and aunt saw fit to ignore the spirit of the warning letter Amelia Bones sent them about your mistreatment at their hands."
