Disclaimer:Idonotownanythingexceptmyimagination.
A/N: I wrote this story as a present for a dear friend who also suggested most of the pranks in this story... I hope you guys will have a good laugh!
CHAPTER 1
Harry stared absently through the bars, wondering what his parents and godfather would say if they were alive now. He took a deep breath and then took off his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes. He wondered how he could possibly contact the only adult he'd tell of his shameful predicament.
Looking up at him now and then from the other side of the bars was Chief Watson, who was torn between laughing at him and lecturing him.
Chief Watson was married, and had two children, a son of ten and a daughter of six. His children were also entertained by pranks and every little thing out of the ordinary, but he knew they knew where to draw the line. He had taught them well. Looking at the teenager behind bars, he could not imagine what sort of parents would lose control of their child in such a way that he'd end up running down the street in nothing but his underwear and looking like a demented cockatoo that seemed to have randomly flown in various cans of paint.
He took another bite off his sandwich and prepared himself to wait, until the teenager would tell him who his parents were or what his real name was (he had refused to comply so far). He knew he would speak at some point. And if not, he had his photograph and his fingerprints, in case he would end up in trouble again.
Harry finally managed to come up with a plan that would save him, and if it was prone to backfire, at least he knew he was about to employ the help of the only person he could think of that he knew was bound to fix everything. He rubbed his tired eyes in an attempt to remove the last of the paint on his eyelashes, hoping he'd see better through the dirty glasses. Then he got up.
'Chief? I'd like to make my phone call. Then I will talk.'
Chief Watson grinned. He'd make sure the troubled teen would talk. He opened the bars and took him by the arm, leading him to the phone.
'Two minutes,' he said.
Harry dialled the one number he knew by heart.
'Hello?' a woman's voice answered.
'Good evening. May I speak with Hermione, please?'
'Who is this?'
'Her best friend from school,' he said, avoiding his name. Apparently, the woman did not get to insist upon him giving a name. He heard Hermione's voice in the background. A few unintelligible words between her and Mrs. Granger, and Hermione got the phone.
'Who is this?'
'It's me', he said, hoping she'd recognize his voice.
'Harry! How come you're calling me instead of sending Hedwig?' she asked, surprised. Harry sighed.
'I'm in jail, Hermione.'
'WHAT?'
'In jail. In the slammer, the black hole, the cooler, up the river, the joint, take your pick…'
'WHY?'
'It's a long story… I need your help… Here's what you have to do…'