Capítulo 68: CH68 - Smoke and Mirrors
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, the easiest, most efficient and reliable way to travel! Eleven sickles will be your fare as always, but thirteen will get you a cup of hot chocolate, and fifteen, a toothbrush in the colour of your choice as well!" Edmund enthusiastically greeted.
Passengers jumped on and off in a rush, akin to a never-ending stream. The sun reached its apex, yet Edmund's words remained the same as they always were.
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, the easiest..." he echoed, his words slightly strained.
Riders he had dropped off to work returned to their homes again, yet Edmund's hours did not end.
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, the easiest..." he stated blankly, his voice wholly bland and monotonous.
The London nightlife began to show its colours, bright neon lights piercing through the descending veil of darkness. Pubs unshuttered, and alcohol began to flow as people laughed and made merry.
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, the easiest..." Edmund bit out, doing his best not to let his bitterness be transparent.
As the triple-decker purple monstrosity let off the last passenger within it at the moment, Edmund sighed in tiredness as he sank into a vacant seat. Typically, there was never a time when the coach was empty during working hours. As such, the moment he was experiencing now was a rarity.
Rolling his ankles to alleviate their growing stiffness, he reflected on his last few weeks as an employee on the Knight Bus.
Edmund had received a lot of training during the period, but not the kind he had anticipated. Sure, his balance and footing were likely within the one percent of the one percent by now, but that was about it. Unfortunately, the runes and spatial magic that helped the automobile function were still just as much of a mystery to him as before he began. His persistence and inquisitiveness had managed to get him access to the location where the Knight Bus was serviced. Still, he had only been able to catch a glimpse at the undercarriage before he was firmly escorted out.
'Oh well,' he thought casually. 'Things haven't gone according to plan. What's new?
The sliding doors leading to the outside opened with a hiss, and Edmund took it as his cue to straighten himself out and plaster on a smile.
The older man that entered was inconspicuous in most ways, yet something about him made him stand out. His clothes were non-branded, yet Edmund could tell from their material and thread count that they were as expensive as could be. His actions were slow and laboured, but his hand moved like lightning as it reached out to grab a handhold when the bus began moving. His eyes seemed gentle, save for the cold steel that appeared to be lurking just underneath.
With long white hair parted on the right side of his scalp that fell to his shoulders, pale leathery skin, and a slight smile on his lips, the man exhaled deeply as he fell onto one of the many unoccupied beds.
"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus, the easiest..." Edmund repeated his spiel without a second thought. "Where to, sir?"
"Where to?" the man murmured in confusion before his expression lit up. "Ah, I'm afraid you have me mistaken, young man. I have no desire to go anywhere. I merely wished to get out of the house and roam around a bit instead of being shut inside all day. You don't mind me tagging along, do you?"
'And your best idea was to hop onto the Knight Bus, of all things,' Edmund thought incredulously.
Externally, though, his warmness did not falter. "I can understand that. However, I'll have to check with the driver to see if that's alright. Is that okay?"
The man gave a singular sharp nod, turning his head to look at the rapidly passing scenery.
As expected, Stan was downright confused, while Ernie only looked wary. Eventually, the two relented, not seeing any harm in letting the man hang around.
"Any particular reason you're here on your lonesome today?" Edmund tried to make small talk after several minutes had passed.
"My wife passed away recently, I'm afraid," he replied without hesitation.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Edmund consoled sympathetically. "Did you love her very much?"
"Love?" the man seemed to consider. "It doesn't really matter whether I loved her. She had been with me so long. She was such an integral part of my every waking moment. The loss of any constant like that in life is debilitating. Though, I suppose affection dictates how much that's the case... Oh, look at me rambling away instead of just answering the question. Yes. I did love her very much indeed."
"How are others in your life handling the loss? Have you got any kids to help you adjust a little bit?" Edmund queried.
"Not for... Not for a long, long time. All of them are dead as well," the man whispered solemnly as he rubbed his hands together.
"Sorry," Edmund grimaced. "No parent should have to do that."
"I could not agree more," the stranger breathed quietly. "What about you?"
"Hmmm?" Edmund turned up his eyebrows.
"Any family of your own?" the man's tone became strangely curious.
"No," Edmund shrugged. "I'm an orphan. I always have been. I don't remember anything about my parents."
"Sorry for asking," he bowed, though the gleam in his eyes contradicted his apologetic nature.
"That's alright," Edmund dismissed, but his hand palmed his wand in preparation to jump into action at any moment.
"I've always wondered what a muggleborn's discovery of magic must feel like." the man suddenly segued. "Is there a feeling of awe, or... is it just a confirmation of something they already believed to be true?"
"Well, I was certainly surprised by the truth," Edmund fibbed with a straight face. "Before McGonagall showed up, magic meant nothing other than fancy parlour tricks."
"Is that so?" his eyes narrowed, causing countless other wrinkles to crop up around his orbital socket.
"Yes," Edmund lied, daring the man to contradict him.
However, instead of escalating the situation, he backed off immediately. "Interesting..."
Rummaging around his coat pocket, the silver-haired stranger retrieved a small card from within it, placing it on the bed next to him.
"In case you ever wish to contact me in the future," he explained before pulling the chain to signal his intention to get off.
Even as the man faded away into the distance on a prominent farmstead in Devon, Edmund's pupils remained fixed on him. Only after multiple kilometres of distance was between them did he pay attention to what he had left behind.
Refusing to interact with the object until he thoroughly examined it, Edmund studied it from afar. An ornately decorated 'F' was all that was visible, penned in flowing cursive font.
"How very peculiar," Edmund decided as his mind raced with the implications of what had just occurred.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
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