Mad World [Harry Potter; Stan Shunpike]
Title: Mad World
Character: Stan Shunpike
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Summary: Stan Shunpike works on the Knight Bus.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Word Count: 1230
A/N: written for the hp_gen_ch “Trials” challenge. This is sort of a departure from the prompt about wizarding occupations. Thank you to sunblossoms for the helpful beta work.
1.
Stan Shunpike watches the people on the Knight Bus. He follows the passengers with his eyes as they climb up the steps, as they smile obligatorily and tell him their destination. He watches them sullenly as they sleep on the rattling beds, his own head feeling heavy with the twenty hours he’s already been awake and the few more still to go before he can leave. The witches and wizards wear tired eyes and shredded robes, but they acknowledge him when they board, and when they reach their stop. He knows his voice is thin when he thanks them, and he can see the corners of their mouths suppressing a grimace when they meet his gaze. He recites his lame speech, which is not compulsory, but more a bitter routine, and he introduces Ernie, who waves without turning around. The bus starts and Stan flips open his newspaper, hiding behind the black and white print to ignore the fact that he is the only person on board now who does not have other people’s names whispering on his lips. He wonders where they are going, if they are hiding too, and he longs to ask them a thousand questions. What are their jobs like? Their families? Their friends?
2.
He leans back against the wall of the bus, the sound of movement humming comfortingly against his spine, and flips through yesterday’s paper, the corners already dog-eared and yellowing from the grease on his fingertips. Sometimes the faces in the moving photographs make for good conversation, and when Stan is lucky, there is a wizard on the bus who is drunk on firewhisky or bad fortune, who feels like sharing his thoughts. He listens to them spin their stories, and think things like ‘that sounds nice’, and immediately follows that thought with ‘but nothing could ever really be quite so nice’ to make himself feel better. He is talkative and smiles at the right moments, but he knows his teeth are crooked, and that his opinions don't matter to these people anyway.
3.
Stan goes to work in the morning, and his shifts are long, but not overly arduous. He doesn’t put his magic to much use these days, but then, he wasn’t particularly gifted to begin with. He attended Hogwarts, studied, flirted with the girls, lived the life of a typical adolescent, but these days, his wand rarely gets used for more than the occasional Accio or Lumos. He isn’t brave like the Aurors, or innovative, like the chocolatiers at Honeyduke’s, but he is practical; people need him. His is a lazy job, but it pays well, and it lets him travel, even if all the places he sees are only viewed through dirty bus windows.
4.
When he switches out his shift with the other conductor, he waves at Ernie, and cannot catch the other wizard’s name because his mouth is dry and thirsty for beer or vodka, and unwilling to form even a question so simple. He walks home, rather than apparate, even though he hasn’t been splinched in years. He takes slow steps to keep his balance, stumbling over the jagged unevenness of solid ground. He is unsure of the sidewalk, unsure of everything that is not purple paint and brass bed frames and wheels spinning against the corners of his mind. He knows the bus. It is like the relative he doesn’t want to live with, but does anyway because it’s habit and it’s familiar and, really, what other place would there be for someone like Stan Shunpike?
5.
Even when he is not on the bus, Stan Shunpike is in perpetual motion. The face cream he bought didn’t work and the way he walks is neither attractive nor dignified, but he looks like a world weary traveler and surely that must count for something. The wheels are turning, and he is compressed and pulled at lightning speed long after the door has opened and he has stepped down onto the cool night asphalt. And even then, it is never his stop. He thinks casually, late into the night when his mother is snoring loudly in the downstairs chair, that he could follow one of the other passengers home one day and it wouldn’t make any difference.
6.
His room at home is small and the lighting is dim, and it’s the same room he’s lived in all his life, which should bother him more than it does. He doesn’t spend much time there, so it doesn’t matter, he reasons, as long as the pillow is soft - which it is, and the mattress is not lumpy - and it is, but only slightly, and Stan isn’t one to be picky. He keeps his earnings under his pillow, the galleons feeling comfortingly metallic against the cradle of his head. He only goes to Gringott’s a few times a year, though he passes by Diagon Alley every day, his eyes straining to read the clean-line names of the shop fronts as the bus pauses to let passengers off and then whizzes on to its next location. When Stan sleeps, he dreams, and he dreams of places he has never seen, deserts and high mountains and islands with tropical fruits and sunshine. The next day, he will board the Knight Bus and see chimney tops and cobblestone walks, but he will not see sunshine because even magical inventions in all their finery cannot make the sun shine.
7.
Stan wants to drive the Knight bus. It isn't just a passing thought, it's something that invades his mind in between breaths and page turns and eleven sickles changing hands. He wants to take the bus to places that are off the given routes. He wants to see the places he has never been. He wants to drive further down that road, just beyond the stop where they let off the elderly witch with a limp and a crooked smile. He isn't licensed, though, and even if he was, he doesn't want to put Ernie out of work. He has dreams where Ernie is dead, and the bus is his, and there are no stops and there are no passengers and there is a grand open road before him, and all his past behind him. Ernie will die eventually, he is old as it is. Maybe one day Stan will be behind the wheel.
8.
When Stan meets Harry Potter, he thinks that maybe his life has purpose. The boy is small and sickly looking, and his clothes are far too big and far too dirty for him to possibly be the hero everyone says he is. He looks the boy over, attempting to appear casual, but his gaze is drawn to the place on his forehead where there’s a jagged slash of scar tissue that is unmistakable. He thinks that he should feel something, a new found power, awe, respect, something, but he just feels dull because Harry Potter looks just like anyone else, and he might as well work on the Knight Bus himself.
9.
Harry Potter introduces himself as “Neville Longbottom”, but Stan already knows who he is, and he hardly listens to the passengers when they speak these days anyway. His voice cracks when he responds, and maybe it always has. It’s a question he thinks vaguely should be asked of himself as well. “Wha'choo doin' 'eer?”
Character: Stan Shunpike
Rating: PG
Genre: General
Summary: Stan Shunpike works on the Knight Bus.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Word Count: 1230
A/N: written for the hp_gen_ch “Trials” challenge. This is sort of a departure from the prompt about wizarding occupations. Thank you to sunblossoms for the helpful beta work.
1.
Stan Shunpike watches the people on the Knight Bus. He follows the passengers with his eyes as they climb up the steps, as they smile obligatorily and tell him their destination. He watches them sullenly as they sleep on the rattling beds, his own head feeling heavy with the twenty hours he’s already been awake and the few more still to go before he can leave. The witches and wizards wear tired eyes and shredded robes, but they acknowledge him when they board, and when they reach their stop. He knows his voice is thin when he thanks them, and he can see the corners of their mouths suppressing a grimace when they meet his gaze. He recites his lame speech, which is not compulsory, but more a bitter routine, and he introduces Ernie, who waves without turning around. The bus starts and Stan flips open his newspaper, hiding behind the black and white print to ignore the fact that he is the only person on board now who does not have other people’s names whispering on his lips. He wonders where they are going, if they are hiding too, and he longs to ask them a thousand questions. What are their jobs like? Their families? Their friends?
2.
He leans back against the wall of the bus, the sound of movement humming comfortingly against his spine, and flips through yesterday’s paper, the corners already dog-eared and yellowing from the grease on his fingertips. Sometimes the faces in the moving photographs make for good conversation, and when Stan is lucky, there is a wizard on the bus who is drunk on firewhisky or bad fortune, who feels like sharing his thoughts. He listens to them spin their stories, and think things like ‘that sounds nice’, and immediately follows that thought with ‘but nothing could ever really be quite so nice’ to make himself feel better. He is talkative and smiles at the right moments, but he knows his teeth are crooked, and that his opinions don't matter to these people anyway.
3.
Stan goes to work in the morning, and his shifts are long, but not overly arduous. He doesn’t put his magic to much use these days, but then, he wasn’t particularly gifted to begin with. He attended Hogwarts, studied, flirted with the girls, lived the life of a typical adolescent, but these days, his wand rarely gets used for more than the occasional Accio or Lumos. He isn’t brave like the Aurors, or innovative, like the chocolatiers at Honeyduke’s, but he is practical; people need him. His is a lazy job, but it pays well, and it lets him travel, even if all the places he sees are only viewed through dirty bus windows.
4.
When he switches out his shift with the other conductor, he waves at Ernie, and cannot catch the other wizard’s name because his mouth is dry and thirsty for beer or vodka, and unwilling to form even a question so simple. He walks home, rather than apparate, even though he hasn’t been splinched in years. He takes slow steps to keep his balance, stumbling over the jagged unevenness of solid ground. He is unsure of the sidewalk, unsure of everything that is not purple paint and brass bed frames and wheels spinning against the corners of his mind. He knows the bus. It is like the relative he doesn’t want to live with, but does anyway because it’s habit and it’s familiar and, really, what other place would there be for someone like Stan Shunpike?
5.
Even when he is not on the bus, Stan Shunpike is in perpetual motion. The face cream he bought didn’t work and the way he walks is neither attractive nor dignified, but he looks like a world weary traveler and surely that must count for something. The wheels are turning, and he is compressed and pulled at lightning speed long after the door has opened and he has stepped down onto the cool night asphalt. And even then, it is never his stop. He thinks casually, late into the night when his mother is snoring loudly in the downstairs chair, that he could follow one of the other passengers home one day and it wouldn’t make any difference.
6.
His room at home is small and the lighting is dim, and it’s the same room he’s lived in all his life, which should bother him more than it does. He doesn’t spend much time there, so it doesn’t matter, he reasons, as long as the pillow is soft - which it is, and the mattress is not lumpy - and it is, but only slightly, and Stan isn’t one to be picky. He keeps his earnings under his pillow, the galleons feeling comfortingly metallic against the cradle of his head. He only goes to Gringott’s a few times a year, though he passes by Diagon Alley every day, his eyes straining to read the clean-line names of the shop fronts as the bus pauses to let passengers off and then whizzes on to its next location. When Stan sleeps, he dreams, and he dreams of places he has never seen, deserts and high mountains and islands with tropical fruits and sunshine. The next day, he will board the Knight Bus and see chimney tops and cobblestone walks, but he will not see sunshine because even magical inventions in all their finery cannot make the sun shine.
7.
Stan wants to drive the Knight bus. It isn't just a passing thought, it's something that invades his mind in between breaths and page turns and eleven sickles changing hands. He wants to take the bus to places that are off the given routes. He wants to see the places he has never been. He wants to drive further down that road, just beyond the stop where they let off the elderly witch with a limp and a crooked smile. He isn't licensed, though, and even if he was, he doesn't want to put Ernie out of work. He has dreams where Ernie is dead, and the bus is his, and there are no stops and there are no passengers and there is a grand open road before him, and all his past behind him. Ernie will die eventually, he is old as it is. Maybe one day Stan will be behind the wheel.
8.
When Stan meets Harry Potter, he thinks that maybe his life has purpose. The boy is small and sickly looking, and his clothes are far too big and far too dirty for him to possibly be the hero everyone says he is. He looks the boy over, attempting to appear casual, but his gaze is drawn to the place on his forehead where there’s a jagged slash of scar tissue that is unmistakable. He thinks that he should feel something, a new found power, awe, respect, something, but he just feels dull because Harry Potter looks just like anyone else, and he might as well work on the Knight Bus himself.
9.
Harry Potter introduces himself as “Neville Longbottom”, but Stan already knows who he is, and he hardly listens to the passengers when they speak these days anyway. His voice cracks when he responds, and maybe it always has. It’s a question he thinks vaguely should be asked of himself as well. “Wha'choo doin' 'eer?”