A/N: It's here! The long awaited third story to the Rewritten in Time series. If you're new here, I highly suggest you read Regrets Collect Like Old Friends and History Keeps Pulling— but at the end of the day, it is up to you.

Disclaimer: If you know it, it's from Prisoner of Azkaban. Tragically, I did not write that book. JKR did. Thus, I do not own it.

Edited and reloaded 17 July 2013

Escape from Surrey

Harry Potter hadn't meant to blow up his aunt. Not that she was actually his aunt. She was Vernon Dursley's sister, thus no actual relation to Harry. Narcissa Malfoy (who Harry called Aunt Narcissa) was more so his aunt than Aunt Marge, and Aunt Narcissa was technically his second cousin blank times removed.

Or something.

Either way, Harry had not meant to blow up Aunt Marge into a floating, bloated balloon and set her loose over Surrey.

Harry sat down heavily on the curb, dropping the handle of his trunk he'd dragged from the Dursley's home on Privet Drive.

Nothing had gone right since the summer holidays had begun. Within a matter of hours after arriving home, Harry was informed of Aunt Marge's arrival and that he went to a school for criminal boys. Tragically, then Marge arrived and all Harry's so called freakishness had to be hidden, so no letters from his friend via Hedwig. This also meant he couldn't do his homework as his trunk was locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was not bothered by this, as he knew his sentence at Privet Drive was only two weeks long before he'd be able to go to the Malfoy's for the remainder of summer break.

Harry began to count down the days till he could leave. He was only one day short of the two week prison sentence when he'd failed at life and caused Aunt Marge to inflate.

Aunt Marge thought it was simply marvelous to have Harry at her beck and call so she could point out his freakishness to him, as if he had failed to notice it before. Harry was hanging by a very thin thread by the time she decided it'd be wise to insult his parents.

Harry went off like an atom bomb. He could only be pushed so far. He was only human. Granted, he was a magical human being, but human nonetheless.

Kicking a stone, Harry sighed deeply. He knew the Ministry would notice the fact Harry had blown up his aunt and she was currently bobbing above the houses in Surrey. Last year when the Malfoy's former House Elf Dobby had done magic, the Ministry had noticed and sent him a letter. The letter for this time more than likely had arrived by now. And this time, there was no Lucius Malfoy to show up and pull strings or throw gold around at the Ministry to erase Harry's misdeed. This time, also, was actually Harry's fault.

Harry had to face the music for his crime of underage magic. It was his fault and no one was going to swoop down and save him.

Heaving a sigh, Harry stood up to head back to Privet Drive. The moment he was on his feet, a sinking sensation began in his stomach and continued till his toes began to curl. Just thinking about dealing with the Ministry and his relatives made Harry sick.

What if they forgot they had forgiven him for the Dobby Incident? Harry had never actually checked to see if Mr Malfoy had cleared it up. He said he did, but did Harry trust him?

No.

So, this might be his second infraction per the Ministry.

That settled it.

Harry wasn't going back to the house. He'd make his own way. Luckily his father wasn't a useless drunk as Aunt Marge had insisted. Harry's father had been a rich man— rich enough not to have to work. Harry's vault was filled with gold and now that he no longer had to pay for school, he could use that money to make his own way in the world.

With his plan forming in his mind, Harry turned away from Privet Drive and picked up his trunk again, dragging it towards the park. He knew at this time of night, no one would be there and it'd be safe for him to perform some magic to make his trunk feather light and get his broom out. He'd fly to London and wait till the morning to visit Gringgots.

He arrived at the park and let his trunk drop with a solid sounding thunk. He flipped the lid open after unlocking it and began to hunt for his wand. Upon finding his wand, Harry stuck it into his pocket. He began to hunt around for his broom when he heard a noise. Slowly, Harry peered up over the lid of his trunk. It was too dark to see anything. Straightening up, he closed his trunk and pulled out his wand. Since he was already in trouble for underaged magic, Harry didn't think twice before he whispered, "Lumos."

His wand lit up on command and illuminated the alley across the way from him. What he saw caused his insides to freeze. Across from him was the largest dog Harry had ever seen. It was black and had the creepiest eyes— they looked like ghosts they were such a light shade of grey. If the eyes weren't enough to scare Harry, the fact the dog had matted, tangled fur and was skeletal thin kind of freaked him out more. The dog looked like some sort of monster one would find in a horror film.

Gasping, Harry took a step backwards, not realizing he'd stepped into the street to see the dog better. He tripped over the curb, his wand hand flying up for a moment before crashing down to brace his fall. Pain seared through his palms as he hit the concrete, but he was distracted from that by the appearance of a huge, bright purple triple decker bus. Harry scurried to get to his feet, moving to peek around the bus to see if the dog was still there.

It was not.

Blinking hard, he checked again.

Dog still not there.

Harry shook his head, turning his attention to the pimply young man who was peering at him.

"What choo lookin' at?" he asked, looking around the bus. "Nothin' there."

"I know. There was a dog," Harry replied, flattening his hair.

"Well, choo called?"

"I did?"

"Yes. Choo waved your wand hand, didn't choo?"

"Oh, I guess I did," Harry quickly covered.

This bus was clearly a wizarding bus— a mode of transportation Draco had failed to mention to Harry. More than likely because the Malfoys didn't take buses. Buses were much too mundane and common for the Malfoys. Glancing at the bus again, Harry noticed gold lettering over the windshield that spelled The Knight Bus.

"Oi! I need to do my spiel," the man exclaimed.

"Oh, right," Harry quickly said, moving to stand in front of the man wearing the purple uniform.

Said man, threw his shoulders back and puffed out his chest. He began speaking, forming the words perfectly and in an almost completely different manner than he'd been speaking before.

"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."

"Brilliant. Can you take me to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Sure. Let me get yur trunk," Stan said, moving to grab the trunk. "Woss your name?"

"Neville Longbottom," Harry quickly lied, saying the first name that popped into his head. Why he was thinking about Neville was beyond him. Harry flattened his fringe over his forehead, hoping it'd remain in place to cover his blasted scar.

"It'll cost you eleven sickles to get to London," Stan said as he followed Harry onto the bus, dragging the trunk onboard. "For firteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in the color of your choice."

Stan set the trunk next to one of the dozen brass beds that stood on either side of the bus instead of seats. The windows even had curtains matching the beds. It was the most bizarre bus Harry had ever been on. The bus wasn't a bus, but rather a dorm room, complete with wood paneled walls and candles in brackets on the walls. Harry rooted around in his trunk for his bag of money. As he pulled it out, he heard someone mutter, "Not now, thanks, I'm pickling some slugs."

Looking to his left he saw one of the beds contained a tiny wizard who was clearly sleeping. Harry took the money out and shoved it into Stan's hand. Stan did something with the money, then shoved Harry's trunk under the bed they were standing near. Harry watched Stan disappear and return with Hedwig's empty cage, which he handed to Harry. Taking it, Harry sat down on the bed.

"This is our driver, Ernie Prang. This is Neville Longbtoom, Ern."

The driver looked older than dirt and was wearing extremely thick glasses that caused his eyes to look ten times larger than normal. The driver turned in his seat and peered at Harry. Harry flattened his fringe.

"Take 'er away, Ern," Stan said, flopping down in an armchair next to Ernie.

"Ar."

Harry was not prepared for what happened next. There was another loud BANG and Harry flew backwards. He was flat on the bed he was seated on, staring at the ceiling through Hedwig's cage, which had found its way to his face. He pulled himself up with some difficulty, spitting out feathers from his mouth and dusted off whatever else had gotten all over his face from the cage. He didn't want to think about it. Before the bus made another jerky movement, Harry grabbed onto the bed frame in order to look out the window.

They weren't speeding through the streets of London, but in fact a totally different street in what appeared to be the country. Harry looked back towards Stan to find the young man thoroughly enjoying Harry's stunned reaction.

"This is where we was before you flagged us down. Somewhere in Wales, right, Ern?"

"Ar," was the only noise Ernie made.

"How comes the Muggles don't hear this bus?" Harry asked.

"Them! Don't listen properly, do they? Or look properly. Never nothing nuffink."

"Best go wake up Madam Marsh, Stan," Ernie said, expanding his vocabulary. "We'll be in Abergavenny soon."

Stan frowned, but stood up and disappeared up a narrow wooden staircase. Harry watched Ernie drive and began to worry. The man had clearly not mastered the use of the steering wheel. As Harry watched out the front of the bus, the bust mounted the sidewalk a few times, yet never hit anything. After a moment of this insane driving, Harry realized objects such as trashcans, mailboxes, and lampposts were jumping out of the way of the Knight Bus.

"'Ere you go, Madam Marsh," Stan was saying happily as he came down stairs with a faintly green witch. She did not look thrilled. Especially when Ernie hit the breaks and everyone pitched forward. Harry flew off his bed, landing on the floor. By the time Harry had picked himself up, there was another loud BANG and Harry, once again, careened backwards, banging his head on the bed frame.

He had no idea where the cage had gone.

Rubbing his head, Harry stared out the window and got lost in his own thoughts on his predicament watching trees and bins leap out of the way of the bus. If he did wind up in prison, or worse, at least he'd experienced this. While it was a bit unsettling for his stomach, Harry liked it a bit better the Flooing and a lot better than Apperation.