Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Twilight
Chapter 3
In his entire time as a Police Chief – heck even before then – Charlie Swan had picked up many stragglers.
He'd picked up drunken teens, lost travellers, lost drunken teenage travellers and quite a few other persons who dressed (and spoke) as if they were missing a screw or two.
He wasn't sure if happening upon a skinny, teenage girl in a fancy, over-sized robe – who looked as if her hair had gone through a small tornado (but then again who was he to judge) – near midnight, who was clutching a trophy(?) and spewing muttered curses at it as she stumbled in her walking every now and then…
"What was my point again?"
...Ah, that's right – he wasn't sure if the small girl was his weirdest case yet. And that was saying something.
For such a small town...well, Charlie always knew Forks was special.
"Bloody incompetent gits," he overheard the dark-haired girl grumble from the backseat of his car.
Hmm, she was British.
…Maybe this was his weirdest case yet.
Word Count: 170
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