𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 | 𝐡. 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝟏 - 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

It was a cold and wet evening in London, despite the season being summer one stiff breeze was enough to remind anyone with the magical prowess of what was lurking in the shadows, - or who.

London was buzzing with the revelation, paranoia stretched across even to the muggles, who's prime minister had been informed of recent events, and Ophelia chuckled at the thought of the Minister of Magic trying to explain this to the Prime Minister.

"Say now, do you recall our wizard prison, Prime Minister?" She imagined him inquiring, a posh china teacup full of the finest tea England had to offer.

"As in the one that is an isolated fortress filled to the brim with evil dark wizards and witches? The one that's completely secure to the British Muggle Population? Yes, I do." The Prime Minister replied hastily.

"Do you remember that nasty mass murder we had 13 years ago?"

"Ohhh yes, I do recall it was quite dreadful to cover up for you, see? Quite the mess. But at least he's locked up in that prison."

The Minister for Magic would pause, taking a sip from his cup before adding
"Well, about that, he escaped."

"What do you MEAN he escaped? It's INESCAPABLE! Your kind reassured us that decades ago! Before the wars!" The Prime Minister would shriek incredulous, the Minister for Magic would wave a dismissive hand and say

"All will be sorted soon, we'll catch him. You just need to warn the muggles."

"The what?!"

"You lot," the Prime Minister would stare at the Minister of Magic completely clueless, who would visibly wave his hand to gesture to the poor man. "Non-Magical Folk."

"Ohhhh so now we're the incompetent ones?!"

"Now, Now I never said that-"

Ophelia grinned, letting her mind wander as she looked out of the window, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she tried to figure out where she was, not that she could make out anything in particular since the Knight Bus was moving so fast. Since it was so futile she turned her attention to the inside of the bus and noticed that the Ticket Man, or Stan Shunpike, he had said his name was when she stepped on the bus from her Grandparent's house, was talking to an elderly lady laying in one of the beds.

"Did you 'ear? Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban!"

"No! I thought it was impenetrable, inescapable even? How could he escape?!"

"I imagine being locked up for 13 years gives a man plenty of ideas y'know? Dark Wizards have more on their palette than common charms, love. "

"But the dementors!"

"Read the prophet, it'll tell you more than I know." Stan placed a copy of the prophet on the old lady's lap, she didn't appear too interested in the paper as she soon fell asleep after reading the front page.

Ophelia also had the book she had packed earlier tucked away in the bag by her feet, she contemplated taking it out and reading it until she got to her stop, but that idea was quickly shoved down by an announcement from the driver, as he made a dramatic turn sending Ophelia's guts into a stupor.

"We got another one!"

"Again? Busy night tonight eh Ern?"

The bus began to peel off to some other part of London, it appeared to be suburban from what she could gather given the rows of houses were so perfectly symmetrical and aligned, but then again it was so fast she wasn't completely sure herself.