The car ride back from King's Cross station was as silent and sullen as ever, with Uncle Vernon silently bristling with rage (just as he'd been thinking he could delay picking Harry up by a couple of hours, an owl had swooped in the sitting-room window bearing a message that simply read "Do be prompt; We're watching,") and Harry mourning his return, however brief, to the Muggle world. He was shaken out of his daydreams, however, as Uncle Vernon pulled in to Number Four.
"What's this ruddy thing, then?!" the mustachioed man exclaimed, gesturing at the squat machine parked in front of the house. Wracking his brain, Harry was surprised to find he recognized it.
"It's a SmartCar! Hermione's parents just got one a few months ago, they sent her a picture," he said, ignoring the clench in Uncle Vernon's jaw at the mention of Harry's schoolfriend.
"Hmph. Bloody hippie car, is what it is. Look at the size of it, all it would take to total it is-" Uncle Vernon began, before remembering whom he was speaking to and thinking better of it.
Harry didn't even notice, walking over to the machine as soon as Uncle Vernon's car had stopped, running his hand along the black-and-green finish, noticing that it matched his eyes exactly. Uncle Vernon, meanwhile, was heading inside, and already bellowing questions about the mystery car. Harry only followed him inside long enough to deposit Hedwig and his trunk in his bedroom, then returned to ogle the car some more.
"Phew, glad he's gone. Nothing worse than an angry fat man."
Harry jumped back from the car, as the voice seemed to have come from inside it. After peering through the windows to see who was inside, he mentally kicked himself. Of course there was noone inside.
"Are you an Autobot, then?" he asked the car as politely as he could, wondering idly what part of it he should be addressing. He was saved from wondering very long, as the car began to rearrange itself, limbs springing out from the sides and splaying on the ground, giving the impression that the car had traded its wheels for arms and legs. The roof pulled back into the boot as the windscreen flipped over to cover the passenger compartment, while at the same time the bonnet and dashboard tilted forward. The construct finally stood up straight as a head stuck up out of a compartment in the dash, wearing a helmet similar to one of the other Autobots Harry had seen (Bluestreak, he thought the robot's name had been) aside from the pale green visor across the eyes. The Autobot gave a mighty stretch, which included spinning the steering wheel jutting out of his right shoulder, before turning to face Harry.
"Ahhhh, feels good to transform back. Feels like I've been parked there for hours. You're Harry, arn'cha? The name's Gearbox, I'm going to be keeping an eye on you while Prime and Dumbledore are gone. Put 'er there!" Harry couldn't see the machine's eyes behind the visor, but the tone of his voice gave him away – Gearbox was every bit as nervous as Harry was. Best to start this on the right foot, then, he thought, taking the offered hand and giving it a shake.
"You're not very large for an Autobot, are you?" he blurted. Shite, good going Harry. But it was true, Gearbox only stood half again as tall as Harry; he was willing to bet Hagrid was at least a head bigger.
As for the slight faux pas, the machine took it in stride, shaking his head and chuckling. "I'm actually part of a new unit that's been in the works since the Autobots started getting more involved in human affairs. It's geared towards recruiting more Minibots like myself and Bumblebee – you've met Bumblebee, right? – to act as bodyguards for prominent humans. Cool, huh? Hey, wanna go for a drive? I'm itching to spin my wheels a bit after sitting in this street all day. Hop in, we'll get ice cream or something!" And with that, he transformed rapidly back into the green SmartCar that Uncle Vernon was still ranting about inside, the drivers-side door wide open.
Harry smiled, thinking that Gearbox reminded him a great deal of Seamus Finnigan. As soon as his safety belt was buckled, the door slammed shut and the car took off with a screech of tires that had the neighbours all the way up to Number Twelve looking out their windows to see what was going on.
Maybe this stay with the Dursleys wasn't going to be so bad after all.