Damn Car
A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates. My funny bone was broken.
HAHAHA!!!!
Get it? Funny bone?
Alright, most of you guys probably forgot about me because of my lack of updates so I suggest you go and read all of Damn Car and if you would like my other stories to. I also have some great (maybe?) news that you guys should read at the end of the story.
For flamers who are just waiting to set this story on fire, I just want to let you know that I accept the fact that you hate me. I cry myself to sleep every SINGLE DAY because some people on the internet hate me.
Uhh..no. Just don't bother.
Also…this story is for fun. FUN, people. Yeah, there is some OOC in this one but c'mon, it's everywhere.
I hope you find this chapter funny.
The day was Wednesday and what a lovely Wednesday it was. Factories of mass production were emitting greenhouse gases into the air. Convenience stores were getting robbed every 23 seconds. The jailhouse was full with lively sorts of people!
And if you listened closely, you could hear an odd sound coming from Cell With No Letter.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
"Will you stop kicking me, Harry?!?"
Harry made a disgruntled noise and plopped back onto his cot, looking seriously put out. Hermione sighed agitatedly as she paced the inside of her friend's cell with her eyes closed.
She muttered, "Now all we have to do is wait for someone to come by, cast the memory charm, and then apparate out."
"But I don't want to get out."
Hermione stopped moving and turned to look at her friend with narrowed eyes. He was currently lying with his hands behind his head, looking quite content for a fellow in jail for a murder charge.
"How, pray tell, can you possibly like being inside a cell for 24 hours?"
Harry snorted. "Beats getting chased by some black-cloaked weirdoes who clearly do not have any other hobbies."
"Harry, you are going crazy. We will get out of here, find the Horcruxes and then...oh bullocks!"
Harry giggled. Yes, giggled, which caused Hermione to look at him as if he was loony...which I am, thought Harry proudly. "You said bullocks."
Hermione made a small growl of frustration. "Harry, I HAVE to get us out of here. You're losing the remainder of the few brain cells you possessed by staying in this dirty bin. But I can't because you were on the news so everyone knows you're gone---we can't cast a memory charm on everyone!"
Harry smirked, "The Boy-Who-Lived. The Boy-Who-Killed. Has a nice ring to it, I admit."
She ran her hands along the wall in wonder. There were words on the wall but they can't be read. She angled her body so that light could make way and shine on the darkened words. "What's this?"
Harry turned his head and smiled. He jumped off his cot and went over to her, explaining, "My schedule, of course. I CANNOT afford to miss one day, you know." He informed her of this as if his being in jail was an important matter in life.
"Monday: Schizophrenic Act."
"Me and Harry are WONDERFUL actors," Harry said in a child's voice.
"Tuesday: Dramatic Act."
"The light shines through your busy hair and lights you up life fire. Burn...Hark!" Harry turned dramatically, successfully whacking Hermione at the back of her head but not noticing.
"Please tell me that was not from a well-known poet," Hermione muttered, rubbing her head, "or else, hope for an intelligent society of people will forever be nonexistent."
She turned her attention back to the "schedule". "Wednesday, Multiple Personality Disorder Act...isn't that today?" Her arrest had taken place yesterday and yes, she had to spend a night in a cell with Harry.
Harry nodded enthusiastically.
He continued to smile, moving his eyes from the wall to her as if signifying something.
"Yes?" Hermione asked flatly at his look.
"Do it with me," he answered.
"Excuse me?"
Realizing the many implications that could derive from his previous statement, Harry stuttered and managed, "I mean...pretend you have two or more personalities with me."
Hermione absently traced the words of his schedule as she considered his invitation.
"I suppose it won't hurt....Remus and Ron will get us out of here soon..."
"That's right," he agreed.
"And my parents will never know...right?"
"Absolutely," Harry said. He turned and plopped down onto his cot, fixing an expectant look on Hermione.
"So this was what you did for the past two days? Execute these acts of yours?"
Harry nodded and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.
"Tell me what happened."
He went on to explain how he ended up in jail in detail, being sure to include the genius Jonathan Goliath and the incident with the car.
"On Monday, I acted as Kreacher and ended up getting chased by my fellow inmates, which led me to deck one of my inmates in the face. After, I was interrogated by a bastard named Greg Sanders.
"On Tuesday, I was subjected to one on one time with a psychiatrist because for some ODD reason, they thought I needed mental help. That session led to the resignation of Dr. Kern and my arrest...again...and then yours."
"Now we're here in my cave. The end."
Hermione shook her head for the hundredth time and said, "Now you want me to "act" with you?"
Instead of answering, Harry stood up and pulled Hermione up from the cot. "Choose your personalities. Let's start from there."
"Alright." Hermione bit her lip in that adorable way of hers and began to walk around, voicing her ideas to Harry.
Slowly, an evil smirk appeared on her face.
"I can be Jane."
Harry nodded encouragingly, "Jane. That's a nice name. And what will she be?"
Her smirk grew more pronounced as she took leisure steps towards Harry. Hermione put a hand on Harry's shoulder and slowly dragged it up to the back of his neck.
"Jane will be a seductress...a mistress...someone who only serves..." She pulled him forward while taking a step. Instinctively, Harry wrapped his arms around her waist. "Master Harry," she breathed into his right ear. Harry chuckled nervously.
"I think I'll like that," he whispered in the same manner. Hermione stepped back, much to Harry's disappointment, and smiled normally. She reached up with her arms and took Harry's glasses off the crook of his nose.
"Or I can be Bertha." She snorted. "Ugly Bertha."
"You can never be ugly," he suddenly said, causing Hermione to look at him oddly. He tried not to blush but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.
Hermione smiled awkwardly and handed him back his glasses.
"Or...I can also be schizophrenic Susie."
"Sorry, I was schizophrenic Sam the other day."
"Ashley?"
"Ashley?"
"Like, yeah, like, I'm, like Ashley," Hermione said airily, twirling a strand of her hair. Harry laughed, throwing an arm across her shoulders.
"Perfect."
For an hour or so, the two "rehearsed" their roles and decided that they were ready to perform.
"Granger, Hermione."
She turned around, "Yes?" The voice came from the security office that was located far from the cells.
"Interrogation room 5 is waiting for you," Hermione stood up and was about to leave, but Harry pulled at her hand.
"Don't worry, Just have fun, you know? I mean, you're only in jail once in a lifetime," he paused then added, "unless you're a compulsive drug addict. Let loose and just act like Jane, Bertha, and Ashley."
"Potter, someone's here to see you," yelled the same rough voice from down the hall. The cell door opened and the sound of keys jiggling and heavy footsteps came closer and closer to their cell.
"Just a minute, honey!" Harry yelled back, ignoring Hermione's giggles.
"POTTER!"
"Sweetums, if you want me to come, you'll have to be patient."
He turned back to Hermione and mockingly rolled his eyes, taking on his best imitation of her. "Honestly, boys!"
Harry sneered, causing the constable to take a step back from him.
Petunia nodded stiffly, seemingly afraid that her nephew might jump and kill her, even though there was a glass wall between them. Harry lifted up his phone and said dully, "Hello darling."
Petunia glared at him, feeling more secure to see two constables standing aside. "A killer! What have you done, boy? I already saw you on the telly and was about to just ignore you and the news. But then, a constable called me up and demanded my presence here!"
Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't like he wanted her here. "Are you going to get me out of here, then?"
"Never! You can rot in jail for all I care!" Wow. What a bitch.
Harry nodded very casually while clearing his throat.
Gearing up for his next act, he took on a low, menacing voice.
"Yo, where my drugs at, foo?" His slang sounded a bit odd since he still had a slight British accent.
Petunia jumped in her seat, letting the phone fall from her grip. Her eyes darted around to check if anyone had heard. Thankfully, no one. She whispered, "W-what?"
"My drugs. Give'me my drugs, foo. Ain't there?" Unfortunately, Harry decided to speak loudly, quickly catching the attention of the guards.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about, I--"
"WHAT???" Harry yelled in his loudest voice, causing the other perps and visitors to look at him in an alarmed manner. "YOU DON'T GOT MY DRUGS? WHAT KINDA DEALER ARE YOU, FOOL?" He threw down the phone (just to make things more "legit") and flipped back his chair.
He nodded at the constable in his most "ghetto" way. "Yo, let's blow this joint!"
Once he was out of the visitor room, he laughed out loud, now thinking about how scared his aunt must've looked. He didn't notice that he was now alone in the corridor and without the escort that he left with.
Meanwhile:
Hermione, though she was nervous, tried to remain calm as she stepped into Interrogation Room #5. A man with short blond hair was already seated at the table and grimaced once he saw her. Well, that was rude.
"Hello. My name is Greg Sanders and I just want to ask a few questions."
Hermione nodded, opting not to speak so that she could get ready for her first role.
"What is your relationship with Harry Potter?"
"You mean, Master Harry," corrected Jane in a sultry voice, crossing her legs.
Greg resisted the urge to shudder. "Master Harry? W-What does that mean?"
"Means Master Harry has been my master for seven yearssss. Since I was eleven." Jane smiled seductively, feeling triumph at the look of disgust on Sanders' face.
"Ms. Granger, are you aware that Potter--"
"Master Harryyyy," she purred. Wow, I actually purred, thought Hermione.
"M-master H," began Greg, but he just couldn't finish it, "Er, are you aware that Potter is a very violent and angry person?"
Jane smirked and nodded, uncrossing and crossing her legs once more. She threw her hair back just for an extra measure. "Why, of course. I remember the first time we had an "encounter". We were both 15 and we were mostly alone in his godfather's house. Master Harry was very aggressive but he didn't hurt me that much," explained "Jane".
Greg spluttered. 15?!? He didn't do it until he was 26...last year. "Are you saying--" He wasn't able to get the words out of his mouth. Instead, he stood up and turned to face the two-way mirror that everyone knew was a two-way mirror but still thinks it's just a plain old mirror. He mouthed "help" to his teammates watching. Greg knew they would get a file for him right away. Taking a deep breath and smoothing out his tie, he turned around...
And was confused.
The Granger girl was now wearing glasses that looked suspiciously like...
"Ms. Granger, is that--"
"Bertha." Snort.
Greg looked around. "No, your name is Hermione."
"Bertha. B-E-R-T-H-A. Pronounced BER-thah. It is of Old German origin, and its meaning is "bright, famous". It is also the Latin version of a Continental Germanic name. The name Bertha is related to the name of a Teutonic goddess. The name probably existed in England before the Conquest, and was reinforced by Norman use, but fell out of use in the 15th century. It was reintroduced into the English-speaking world by Germany in the 19th century," recited "Bertha" in one breath.
Greg stared, and then shook his head. "Bertha. Right."
Bertha snorted, "Yeah."
"Back to Potter."
"And now, let's continue to discuss the matter of Harry Potter."
"What?"
"Speak in even syllables, please!"
"WHAT?"
"Continue please. Por favor. S'il vous plaît. Bitte. Per favore. Alstublieft. Behag. Onegai. All--"
"Shut up."
"Yo no comprendo inglés."
Greg grinded his teeth despite what his dentist had told him about this bad habit.
"Let's get back to the matter of this interrogation," suggested Greg, the image of a large beer floating in his mind.
"I can't. I have a phobia for that."
Greg REALLY wanted to smack Bertha. "What phobia? Interrophobia?"
"No." Snort. "Gregsmoronicphobia."
"Alright. I am a government official and you as a suspect must obey the laws of our government. If you do not answer any of my questions, consequences will be dire. Now I demand that you answer truthfully and honestly!"
"He has a weapon," she whispered almost inaudibly, requiring Greg to lean forward so that he could catch her words.
"A weapon?"
"Yeah, yeah. And it's like, cool..."
"Can you describe this...weapon?" Greg said, hoping that something comprehensible would come out of her mouth.
"Well...it was long..." 'Ashley' began, pretending to concentrate hard.
"And it was like...that big," 'Ashley' demonstrated the length with her hands. She giggled.
"Someone shoot me," muttered Greg as his head hit the top of the table. A minute of silence passed before the suspect spoke again.
"Hey..."
Greg glanced up. Maybe she changed her mind (or whatever was inside that head of hers) and now wanted to tell him about Harry Potter.
"Yes?"
"Wouldn't you, like, need a gun for that?"
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Thank you for reading this chapter and keep an eye out for the next one. I don't think I have said this before but I love all of the people who read my fics and really appreciate your patience! Your support keeps me going!
Le