Author's Note:
It's Friday! Let's update. :)

In response to reviewer 'iPhones don't let me login':
This is what happens when I don't properly do my research before writing about something I have no experience/knowledge of. I just wanted some sort of confrontation between the removal employee and BASE personnel. I don't think I'll bring up that scene again, but if I do, I'll keep your suggestion in mind. Thanks for letting me know!


Chapter 3

Daniel Harrison 'Harry' Evans was bored.

The young man had moved into the modest house in the Las Vegas suburb two week ago. But after a lifetime of working (school work at Hogwarts, house and yard work at the Dursleys), he found himself at a loss without a goal in mind. His neighbours had seen him out working in the yard (but he just didn't have the interest without Aunt Petunia yelling at him to pull out the weeds or Uncle Vernon blustering for him to mow the grass), messing about in the garage (but he didn't have a car, he didn't have a driver's licence either, really) and decorating his home (there were only the bare necessities, so Harry bought some art, posters and plants to make it look a little more lived-in).

The neighbourhood had gossiped over the fact that a young man, just a boy, really, 18 years old and emancipated, was living on his own. In the two weeks that he had been there, he had been unfailingly polite and extremely helpful (as testified by an old lady who needed help getting her groceries to her car). Thus, they were relatively welcoming of him but still wary, a 'waiting for the other shoe to drop' sort of attitude.

There was an auto mechanic shop a block away from where Harry lived. Harry walked by one day and stopped to observe. He found himself fascinated by their work, thinking back on the motorcycle Sirius had enchanted, as well as Weasleys' old Ford Anglia. The idea began to grow on him, to be working and repairing things by hand without the use of any magic. It seemed more 'real' than any magical jobs, no silly wand waving (he would be horrified later to realize he quoted Snape, of all people!), everything having a logical method in design and production (and magic really is illogical sometimes, really, like how Seamus set fire to a feather by simply prodding it in impatience*).

After having stopped to observer for hours three days in a row, the owner of the shop came out to talk to Harry.

"You like what you see, boy?"

Harry's age of 18 was definitely 'boy' in the eyes of the 50-something man.

"I think it's amazing, what you can do with the cars," Harry answered honestly.

"Well," the man looked Harry over, "you're pretty young. It wouldn't be hard to learn, if you're interested."

"You mean it? You'd hire me?" Harry was amazed to have such an offer from a perfect stranger, one who didn't know who he was either.

"If you work hard! I don't take no slackers. I catch ya lazin' 'bout and I'll kick ya outta here! How 'bout it, kid?"

"I'd love to!"

"Then be here tomorrow at 8am sharp!"

[break]

The owner of the auto mechanic shop, who went by the last name Powell, was amazed. The young man he hired on impulse turned out to be one of his best employees. Sure, Harry didn't know anything when he first started, but he absorbed all the skills and knowledge like a sponge. He was enthusiastic with the work, too. It didn't matter if the car only needed a minor check-over or a major engine overhaul, he went at it cheerfully and with full attention on all the details.

Some of the customers coming in began to specifically request Harry (or 'that boy with the messy black hair') as word of mouth spread his skill as a mechanic apprentice and his friendly attitude. Powell's older employees were disgruntled but the owner simply said that they were welcome to leave at any time. It was true, the elder mechanic would much prefer having Harry around than the rest of his employees. He was starting to see Harry as the son he never had.

The neighbours were also glad to see Harry gainfully employed and for the most part lost the 'waiting for the other shoe to drop' attitude. In fact, many mothers fretted over an 18-year-old boy living on his own and not eating properly, so they took to stopping by after he finished work to drop off dinner or various baked goods to make sure he had plenty of 'healthy foods' to eat. Harry was rather bemused by this.

Powell also began teaching Harry how to drive on Sundays, the only day the shop was closed. Harry took to it like duck to water and obtained his driving licence within a month.** The two went car shopping in many second-hand stores, but nothing seemed to fit Harry. They decided to try a nearby scrap yard for more ideas.

Arriving at the scrap yard, Powell left Harry to browse on his own while he went to pick up useful parts for the shop. Harry wandered through the place, squeezing between crushed and old, abandoned cars, looking at all the different faded paint colours. He finally came to one extremely battered car with sections still gleaming bright silver. Stroking the dented hood softly, he tried to imagine how the car looked when it was brand new.

Powell found him an hour later, his own purchase made and loaded in his pickup truck. Harry was still standing there, stroking the hood and staring off into the distance.

"Harry?" Powell called softly, concerned.

"Hmm?" Harry was jolted out of his daydream. "Oh, are you finished?"

"I am. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Do you know anything about this car?"

"We can always go ask the scrap yard attendant," Powell gave the car a long look, seeing all the breaks with a knowledgeable eye. "It's no good though, the chassis is broken pretty badly and all."

The attendant that day happened to be the owner of the scrap yard, and he explained that the silver Pontiac Solstice was one he bought from another yard that was closing, thinking the chassis could be salvaged but unfortunately was not the case. When Harry expressed an interest in taking it, the owner said he could have it for free if he could haul it out.

Despite Powell's warning that the entire car would have to be repaired and even rebuilt practically from scratch, Harry could not be persuaded from his decision. The two returned to the scrap yard next weekend and hauled it to Harry's house with Powell's trailer.

[break]

Powell was right, Harry soon found out. After removing all the parts from the car, he found the chassis broken into three parts. He began attending night classes at the local technical college to learn the basics of how to weld. Once he felt comfortable with welding, he went and bought all the equipment needed and worked hard to fix the chassis of the car.

On some nights, Powell stopped by after work. He could not help but be amazed at the fact that Harry was willing to rebuild the whole car. There was no logical reason for it, yet nothing could sway the young man from his single-minded pursuit in repairing the car. He was also surprised at how little time it took for Harry to repair the chassis and shell. What he didn't know was that his employee was a powerful wizard who had been using quite a lot of magic to aid in the repairs.

Despite all the help Harry had with respect to magic, there were still a lot of things that magic could not be used to fix, such as the engine and all the electronic parts. These he had to do all by hand, buying new wires in places where they could not be repaired, fitting new parts on to the dented and bent original pieces. For reasons he did not understand himself, he tried to use as much of the original parts as he could, even if it meant many extra hours hammering out dents and straightening out bends. The only thing he had to buy completely new were the wheels (the hub caps were not with the car even when it was in the scrap yard).

Slowly, bit by bit, the Pontiac Solstice began to come together. All off-work hours when he was not at the community college or sleeping and eating went towards the vehicle. Finally, after nearly a year's worth a work, it was done. Repainted and polished, it sat gleaming in the beautiful Sunday afternoon. It was with a satisfied feeling that Harry got into the driver's seat.

"Well," said Harry to himself, "here goes!"

Key in the ignition, he turned it.

Nothing happened, not even the usual whirr-whirr-whirr sound of the starter.

Harry blinked and tried again.

Once again, nothing. No sound, no movements, nothing.

With a sigh, he unlatched the hood and got out. Opening the hood, he stared down at the engine, ready to check everything over yet again.

After hours of checking over every single part of the vehicle in painstaking details and trying to start the car numerous times, Harry was frustrated with a capital F. Everything was seemingly in working order and yet nothing worked. After all the time he had put into it, he could not understand why the car refused to start. Snarling in anger, Harry slammed his hands on the engine. His strong emotions let loose some accidental magic in the form of a spark arcing from his hands to the engine, but in his anger, he didn't notice anything.

Finally noticing the time, Harry gave up on the car. It was very late at night by then and he had skipped dinner. He also had the early shift at the auto shop in the morning. He wiped his hands clean and went back into the house.

That small spark of magic was just enough to restart Jazz's Spark. After having been traumatically ripped in half and spending almost a year and a half deactivated, the Autobot was in need of a major recharge, leaving him in stasis lock.

[break]

After a long day at work (and Mondays were always busy), Harry took a long hot shower and automatically went to his garage. It wasn't until after he had turned the light on that he remembered how the car wouldn't start last night. However, considering the fact that he had put almost an entire year's worth of work into the silver Pontiac, he decided to give it one last shot. He got into the car, pushed the key in and turned on the ignition. To his delight, the Solstice started without a problem. Opening his garage door, he went on his first drive in his newly repaired car.

Jazz slumbered on, still in a deep recharge.

[break]

Harry was returning home from his first solo trip to Las Vegas the next Sunday when Jazz came out of recharge.

The first thing he noticed was that he was moving.

What the Pits? Jazz thought. Why am I moving?

In almost agonizing slowness, more of his sensors came online.

The second thing he noticed was that he was in his alt. mode. But as that was how Autobots normally recharged to save space, he didn't think much of it.

The third thing he noticed was the feeling of a warm organic being sitting inside his cab.

Who the Slag is driving me?

The fourth thing he noticed was that he couldn't feel his humanoid form, which never happened. For all Cybertronians, even when they were in their alt. forms, they could always feel the various parts of their humanoid forms. This was so shocking to the Autobot that his processors automatically triggered the recharge routine to prevent damages to itself. Jazz dropped offline once again.

Harry drove on, never having noticed a thing.

[break]

Many hours later, in the dead of night, Jazz came out of a recharge for the second time since he was re-sparked to life by magic. He found himself alone inside a garage filled with tools.

This time, instead of driving himself into recharge in terror, he focused solely on his memory processors. The last thing recorded in his memory was the pain and agony of being attacked by Megatron, who then proceeded to ripping him into two. Even the memory of the fight threatened to drive him into recharge again but he fought it off, just barely.

He went through his currently situation:

One, he was stuck in his alt. form, unable to transform, but his alt. form seemed to be in good working order.

Two, he was able to control his alt. form. This he tested by turning his headlights on and off, starting his engine, driving what little he could forwards and backwards, changing the radio to various channels and turning his engine off when he was done. (Here, he thought about attempt to communicate with the human through his radio, but decided not to once he remembered what Bumblebee and Sam told him of the initial misunderstanding that first day after Sam 'bought' Bumblebee.***)

Three, all his outgoing communication processors were offline, neither could he access the Internet. He could still receive communication signals provided they were strong enough and close enough to him, but he could not send anything out.

Since he had no idea where the rest of the Autobots were, nor did he have any way of contacting them, Jazz had no choice but to stay and act as a normal car for now. He would be running a program to constantly look out for Autobot communications.

[break]

* Remember, this happened in Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, during the Charms lesson for Wingardium Leviosa.

** Not sure what the procedure to get a driver's licence is like in Nevada, but considering Sam already had his licence in the first Transformers movie, I'm just assuming (artistic licensing) that it's a simple matter of (1) taking a paper exam of sorts to get a learner's and (2) taking the road test and getting a driver's licence. I'm skipping all the possibilities that the law might require a defined amount of time between (1) and (2). [For example, where I live, the requirement is at least a year between obtaining your learner's before you're allowed to go for the road test.]

*** This is referring to when Sam was giving Mikaela a ride home and Bumblebee tried to 'help' by playing romantic music and stopping the car but generally just made it more awkward between the two teens.


Author's Note:
Here you have it! Harry and Jazz finally meet! Not a very exciting chapter, I know, but the action will start next chapter, I promise! (And please don't make too much fun of me in the auto mechanic bits, I don't know anything about auto mechanics either...)

Next Chapter:
Jazz finds a reason to take over the controls and Harry finds himself in a high-speed, self-moving vehicle.

As always, please Read and Review!