The journey to London from America’s east coast was eight hours by plane, so Davis and Olivia made use of the nighttime flight by attempting to get some rest. Frequent turbulence and the discomfort of economy seating prohibited them from sleeping longer than one hour at a time, so the two comrades occupied themselves by daydreaming and engaging in anticipatory conversation. The five-hour time advancement meant that the plane would land at noon, and anxious glances at their watches showed that they were nearing the end of their protracted excursion.

“There’s the airport!” Davis observed, peering out the plane’s small window. Olivia had taken the aisle seat - she was six feet in height and made good use of the additional legroom. When Davis nudged her arm, she was sprawled out with her legs extended into the aisle, attempting to catch some shut-eye.

“Really?” Olivia leaned over and gazed out the window for confirmation, and sure enough, the large hangar and the tangled runways could be spotted with ease from the aircraft.

Noon came and the plane continued to course the skies. The girls ignored this, knowing that they had scheduled their flight to give them ample time to travel to the Quidditch World Cup. It was when an additional thirty minutes passed, however, that they became distressed. It appeared that they were circling the airport.

“Folks, from the flight deck, this is your captain speaking. Air traffic control has placed us in a holding pattern. We should be landing shortly, but in the meantime, welcome to London.”

The muffled announcement echoed throughout the cabin, immediately causing commotion amongst the passengers. The uncertainty of the plane’s landing had registered with the commuters, and soon, the plane’s constant circling had the travelers tailspinning into chaos. With each passing minute, the frequency of frantic conversations increased. Davis and Olivia were forced to endure exchanges about time-sensitive meetings, family gatherings, and scheduled job interviews that simply “could not be missed”. The atmosphere of dubiety and bedlam had succeeded in making them frantic about their own engagements.

“How are we going to get to Dorchester in time? You won’t apparate, and we surely can’t fly on our broomsticks...” Olivia questioned frantically, raking her mind for solutions.

“Even then, how are we going to get to the World Cup?” Davis’ concern presented a more serious issue. They did not have portkey reservations and would not have time to travel to Dartmoor via Muggle transportation.

“Let’s think about this when we’re on the ground.” Olivia suggested, attempting to cool her rising state of panic.

The captain later revealed the source of the delay. A plane that was taxiing to the runway had experienced a malfunction that prevented it from taking off. After an additional hour, the seatbelt signs illuminated in the cabin, signaling that the aircraft was making its descent. It was 1:30 in the afternoon before the British Airways airliner made contact with the coveted earth.

Davis and Olivia hurried off the plane, carry-on bags swung over their shoulders. They quickly paced the length of the jet bridge and entered the airport, heading for border control. Immediately, they were met with the bustle of travelers striding in an array of directions. 

“Airports are organized chaos.” Davis proclaimed, taking in the hectic environment of the airport.

“I wouldn’t hardly call it organized.” Olivia replied, grabbing her friend’s arm to pull her aside. A focused commuter was quickly pacing through the facility, seemingly possessing a one-track mind and scant regard for those around him. “Exactly. Point proven.”

The two young travelers presented their passports and were soon allowed to enter the terminal. They briskly paced to the baggage claim to retrieve their luggage. Much to their luck, it had already been wheeled onto the conveyor belt and was waiting for them. They swiftly retrieved it and headed for an illuminated, green customs gate, handing their Customs Declaration Forms to an officer before breezing through to the arrivals hall. It was 2:15 in the afternoon before Davis and Olivia had exited London Heathrow Airport.

The weather in London was blissfully pleasant, defying the stereotypical conditions of constant rain. The beaming sun and the cloudless skies were perfect for a Quidditch match. Olivia and Davis emerged from the airport with so much luggage that they struggled to carry it all, which proved to be a burden as they attempted to navigate the hectic sidewalks. They hailed a cab and asked the driver to take them to Central London.

After the fifteen mile drive, they exited the cab and paid the fare for the journey. The girls were now in the heart of London, which was busier than usual due to the brilliant forecast.

“Do you know where to go?” Davis asked, squinting her eyes. Their extensive packing list unfortunately did not include sunglasses.

“Oliver wrote the address in his letter, so once we get to Dorchester, I’ll know where to go.” Olivia responded reassuringly. “Getting to Dorchester is our first problem...”

“Could we take a train? How far away is it?”

“It’s in Dorset, so it’s probably around three hours away. We wouldn’t get there until after 6 o’clock.”

“Three hours? That definitely won’t work.” Davis shot a crestfallen glance at her friend, who resolutely decided not to panic.

“We will find a way. Don’t worry.” Olivia pursed her lips in thought. “Are you sure you don’t want to try side-along apparition?”

“Ha! I’m certain!” She scoffed. “You’ve just had your license since April. It takes more experience to do side-along.”

“Since when have you been so knowledgeable on the subject of apparition?” Olivia taunted. “I’m very good at apparating. You can trust me.”

“I trust you. I just don’t want to try it with all of this luggage. Not to mention, didn’t you say you got sick the first time you apparated?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“I don’t want to be sick for the Quidditch World Cup.” Davis said matter-of-factly. “Not to mention, how could you apparate to Oliver’s flat anyways? You’ve never seen it. You wouldn’t be able to picture it in your mind. It’s just too dangerous.”

“You have a point.” Olivia admitted, going back to the drawing board. After a few short moments of contemplation, she spoke up again. “Oh! I’ve got an idea.” She stopped in her tracks and moved off of the sidewalk, scanning the surrounding area. Her eyes landed on a vacant square nearby that was shaded in by trees. “Perfect! Come along.”

Davis was hesitant and confused, but decided to follow her friend’s lead without question. When they arrived, Olivia scanned the area cautiously. 

“This should work. I think this is enough space.” Olivia spoke to herself, neglecting to include Davis in her musings.

“What are we doing here?” She finally asked, eyebrows laced together in confusion.

“We’re going to summon the Knight Bus. If you refuse to apparate, it’s the only way we can arrive to Dartmoor punctually.” She said with a nod, interrupting her independent scan of the area to lock eyes with Davis. “If you think this is sufficiently out of sight, I’ll summon it. It can’t be seen by Muggles, but I’m sure pedestrians would think it odd to see two teenagers walking into an invisible bus.”

“Yeah! I mean, this should- this should work. The trees shield us enough.” Davis said warily. “Wait, how do you summon it? Have you ever used it before?”

“Oh, for sure. Oliver and I used it one time when his broomstick handle broke. This was before we could apparate, of course.” Seemingly satisfied with the location, Olivia stepped away from the curbed edge of the square. “Step back. I’ll show you how to summon it.”

Davis followed the command. Olivia could tell that she was a bit intimidated by the concept of a giant bus that could be conjured out of thin air, and rightfully so. The Knight Bus was a purple, triple-decker bus operated by a band of oddballs. The driver, Ernie Prang, was heralded as the wizarding world’s most reckless driver, known for directing the colossal motorcoach through Muggle traffic at dangerously high speeds. Each ride on the bus was equally eventful and frankly frightening at times.

“The Knight Bus, as you know, appears whenever a witch or wizard is in urgent need of transportation. All you have to do is this.” Olivia pulled her wand from her sleeve and pointed it at the curb of the alleyway’s sidewalk. 

At the flick of the wand, an unexplainable force threw the pair backwards. Olivia had been expecting it and braced Davis’ arm, preventing her from falling. Instantaneously, the large, purple bus made its appearance, materializing in the square and wheeling towards Olivia and Davis. When the coach came to a squeaking stop, the dingy doors slid open to reveal Stan Shunpike, the conductor. He was tall and lanky, clothed in a grubby purple uniform. His greasy, unkempt hair was covered by a matching purple conductor’s hat. Pulling a tattered slip of paper from his pocket, he began to read.

“Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Stan Shunpike and I will be your conductor for this afternoon.” He recited his lines in a choppy, scripted manner, and as he folded up the slip of parchment, Davis wondered why he had not memorized his introduction by now.

“Hello, Stan.” Olivia said with a friendly nod in his direction. 

“‘Ello!” He acknowledged in his Cockney accent, stepping from the bus to fetch their luggage. “You ladies ‘ave quite a bit ‘a stuff here. Not sure how I’ll go about gettin’ this on board.” He surveyed the bags unnervingly. “I reckon the best way is to get started!” He bent over and attempted to heave Davis’ heavy suitcase forward to no avail.

“Let me help you.” Davis piped in politely, unaware that Stan always rejected assistance.

“No! This here’s my job. Your job is to hop on board and take your seats. Go on, now.” Stan dismissed her with a wave of his hand, and Olivia could not help but laugh at Davis’ offended expression.

They followed their conductor’s instructions and boarded the derelict triple-decker, which was unshockingly full of witches and wizards of all calibers. Hanging in the windshield was Dre Head, a Shrunken Head with a thick Jamaican accent that yelled out puns and sarcastic comments at the passengers.

“Look Ern! More people! It’s your lucky day! Ha!” The head addressed the driver of the bus, cackling to itself. Davis, who had prepared herself for such oddities, was not intimidated by the Shrunken Head - instead, she chose to ignore it.

“Where ‘ya headed, ladies?” Stan asked bluntly, motioning for Ernie to close the doors. “Let me guess - Quidditch.” He finalized with an eyeroll.

“Surprisingly not. We’re heading for Dorchester. Let me give you an exact address. I have it in my bag somewhere.” Olivia set to finding Oliver’s letter, which was safely tucked away in her shoulder bag. 

“A’ight, but hurry up.” Stan rushed. “Got a bus full a’ wizards that have places to be.”

“Yes, and I’m one of them. This won’t take long.” Olivia stopped her search to shoot a disapproving glance at Stan. Digging back into her bag, she produced the sheet of folded parchment. “24 Peverell Avenue West, Poundbury. That’s the address.”

“Ya’ hear that, Ern? Hit it!” Stan hollered loudly to the elderly driver, conclusively slapping a hand on Ernie’s cabin to get his attention. The first two levels of the bus were entirely full of people en route to the Quidditch World Cup, so Olivia and Davis made their way up to the third level. On their way up the second set of stairs, however, Ernie floored the accelerator and caused Olivia to nearly slip and fall. Davis instinctively grabbed her wrist to prevent her from falling.

“Consider us even.” She said with a grin, referencing how Olivia saved her from taking a spill earlier in the square. “These people are very inconsiderate.” Davis said, taking an even firmer grip on the handrails.

After the girls took their seats in the sparsely occupied third level of the bus, they were forced to endure half an hour of unexpected twists, turns, and jolts before they arrived at Oliver’s apartment. Stan jogged up the stairs to alert Oliva and Davis, who were sitting in the floor cackling. They were recovering from a tumble into the floor as result of the violently abrupt stop.

“Aye! We’re here! Let’s go!” He hollered, running back down the stairs to retrieve the luggage. With Stan’s assistance, they moved their bags onto the sidewalk.

“Stan? We have to run inside and place our luggage down. Then we’re headed to the World Cup. Could you wait on us? We won’t be long and could use a ride.” Olivia asked hopefully, inwardly knowing the answer. Sure enough, Stan shook his head.

“Schedule’s too busy! We got places to be! Ern, let’s go!” The bus doors closed, and it jolted off in the opposite direction. Olivia’s expression flattened.

“How rude.” Davis narrowed her eyes. “I honestly believe apparition would’ve made me less nauseous.” She joked, heaving a deep sigh to collect herself after the brutally bumpy ride.

The pair began to scope out Oliver’s flat complex, which was located in an appealing area informally known as Queen Mother Square. The grandeur of the plaza was a refreshing sight after being cooped up in the dismally aggressive Knight Bus. The intricate, brightly colored buildings seemed to have been styled in reference to England’s most ornate buildings - one apartment complex even favored the Buckingham Palace. After searching the streets and examining address numbers, the girls located Oliver’s building. The beige-colored complex was unnaturally neat and had been lined with creatively patterned cream-colored stones.

“Being a professional athlete must be treating him well.” Davis sarcastically remarked as she and Olivia approached the stoop. 

“Wealthy parents also treat him well.” Olivia responded laughingly in a straightforward manner. “He can’t stand being pampered. He wishes they’d let him work for what he gets. Personally, I wouldn’t be complaining!”

“Me either...” Davis surveyed the complex as they entered. It was equally impressive inside, boasting lofty ceilings and an ornate chandelier hanging over a semicircular desk. The foyer favored a hotel lobby. Olivia and Davis headed for the staircase, as Oliver’s flat was on the second level of the facility.

When they reached his door, Olivia decided to forgo her search for the key and use her wand instead. She and Davis quickly scanned the hallway, making sure it was vacant before performing the charm.

“Alohomora.” She muttered under her breath, waving her wand in the shape of a circle with a downward vertical line through the center. The lock clicked, signaling that the door was unlocked.

“I sure do hope this is the right flat...” Davis muttered before grasping the doorknob. Her doubts were disproven when she noticed a moving photograph of Olivia dressed in Oliver’s Quidditch robes sitting framed on a small table in the foyer. “Nevermind. There you are.” Davis gestured to the frame with an amused chuckle. Olivia laughed too - both of them - the real Olivia and the photographed one.

The flat was surprisingly neat and pleasant, containing two bedrooms, a full kitchen, dinette, and living room. Olivia and Davis placed their bags in the empty bedroom adjacent to Oliver’s. Before leaving, they took a quick tour of the place, pleased to find that Oliver had kept it clean and organized despite some dirty dishes in the sink. 

“Why don’t you do his dishes, Davis?” Olivia inquiring kiddingly. Davis responded with a bad-tempered expression. Doing the dishes was her least favorite chore.

The girls filed into the living room and Olivia focused her attentions on examining the photographs Oliver had put on display. Davis was marveling over his extensive book collection on the opposite side of the room.

“Just think, Olivia. You may live here someday.” She joked, beaming as she pulled a tattered copy of Quidditch Through the Ages from the shelves. “Of course he has this book. I wonder how many times he’s read it.” She said to herself.

“128 times.” Olivia responded, glancing over at the book from across the room, recognizing it immediately.

“Maybe I could introduce him to some... I don’t know... new titles.” Davis wondered aloud, gingerly placing Oliver’s sacred volume of the beloved classic back on the shelf. She was an avid reader and was well read in multiple subjects, boasting her own sizable collection of literature under her four-poster bed in the Gryffindor common room.

“Not a chance.”

The girls concluded their brief inspection by locking up and heading back outside. Anticipating a cool evening, they had changed into warmer clothing, making sure to wear green in support of Ireland. They had left all of their belongings behind, excluding their tickets to the event and the map of the grounds Oliver had sent. As they emerged into Queen Mother Square, Davis glanced down at her wristwatch.

“It’s 5 o’clock.”

“5 o’clock?” Olivia restated, a hint of panic in her voice. “We need to get to the World Cup! The final starts at dusk!”

“How far away is Dartmoor?” Davis asked inquisitively. The pair had silently agreed to stop walking, realizing they had no idea where to go.

“If I remember correctly, it was four hours from London, so it should be around an hour away from here. We’ll have to use the Knight Bus again.” Olivia heaved a reluctant sigh, pulling her wand from her sleeve.

“Wait.” Davis motioned for Olivia to stop. “I’m not riding that bus again. Let’s apparate.”

“Excuse me?” Olivia was dumbfounded. Davis had been so against apparition just a few hours ago. “Are you serious? Did you just decide to scrap your organized argument and firm opinion?” A smidge of sarcasm was buried in her voice as she spoke.

“Nothing can be worse than the Knight Bus. Plus, you’ve been to Dartmoor before. You’ll be able to picture the grounds in your mind. Let’s go.” Davis confessed, noticing that Olivia was still staring at her with a mischievous grin. “You’d better do it before I change my mind.” She offered her pale arm to her friend, who was securing her blond hair into a tight ponytail.

“If you insist!” Olivia agreed. “Hold onto my arm as tightly as you can, and make sure that any loose belongings are stowed away in the overhead compartments.” Davis laughed and squeezed Olivia’s left arm with a deathgrip. “It’s quite uncomfortable to apparate the first few times. Everything will go black and you’ll feel like your entire body is being contorted and caved in at all angles. Expect to be nauseous.” Olivia cast a cautious, concerned glance at her friend. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Just be careful.” Davis gave a conclusive nod and gulped, squeezing her eyes shut. Olivia could sense her nervousness, but obeyed instruction.

“Hang on, and don’t let go.” 

In one brief moment, Olivia calmed herself and focused on the rolling hills of Dartmoor. She forced her mind to visualize the vivid shades of green, the forests, and the expansive sea of tents filled with passionate Quidditch fans. Next, she visualized Oliver, which filled her with the necessary amount of yearning she needed to successfully disapparate. Holding her wand, Olivia twisted her arm, and she and Davis were suddenly yanked into oblivion.