This is a Daria/Harry Potter crossover, based on the idea that Helen Morgendorffer, Daria's mother, is not only a blood relative of Lily Evans Potter, but was willing to take in the young orphaned wizard after his parents were murdered by Lord Voldemort. In this fan-fiction, Harry James (Potter) Morgendorffer is growing up in Ruskin, Texas, a suburb of Austin, Texas.
Disclaimer: Daria is the creation of Glenn Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I own neither, and neither expect nor deserve financial compensation for this story. I am writing for my own amusement and for ego gratification.
Also, I don't own the rights to The Hardest Part, either. I believe that Debby Harry, her band, and Chrysalis Records still do.
Harry Potter Morgendorffer is written out of order; the events of this chapter occur in August, 1989.
Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer
It was no secret that Harry James Morgendorffer, "HJ" to his friends and family, liked sports cars—the faster, the higher-performance, the better. Not that he could do much more than look—being nine years old and being on an allowance drastically limited his options and buying power. Luckily, some of his friends shared his enthusiasm. Even more fortunately, some of his friends' dads or older brothers not only enjoyed car shows themselves but would take HJ and his friends along. Some of them were new models displayed by car manufacturers, others were sports cars owned and lovingly maintained by collectors and enthusiasts. Still, there was a big difference between seeing a sports car while Mom or Dad was driving around town or at a car show and seeing one parked on a street in his neighborhood.
One Saturday morning he was walking over to his friend Jimmy Preston's and one of his dreams came true. Someone had parked a 1989 Pontiac Trans Am in front of the Prestons' house. HJ smiled. This was way cool. He decided to spend a couple of minutes admiring it before he rang Jimmy's doorbell. He first walked around it, the put his hands on its fenders, after which he peered through the tinted glass to admire its interior. He was grateful that Daria wasn't anywhere near him: if she saw him now, she'd accuse him of drooling. He really wanted to get in, turn on the ignition, put his hands on the wheel and take it out on a test-drive.
He tried to open the door. Of course it was locked. Rats. Sighing, he turned away, walked up to Jimmy's door, and rang the doorbell. After greeting his friend and his friend's mother, it didn't take long for the conversation to turn to the inevitable.
"Whose car is that?" asked HJ.
"Genelle's," said Jimmy.
"Who's Genelle?" asked HJ.
"Mike's new girlfriend," replied Jimmy.
Jimmy's older brother was in high school and dated. HJ had seen a couple of them; blonde, made-up, hot. Some drove, some didn't. Genelle was one of the ones with her own car.
"Do you think that Genelle would let us get in and take a look?" asked HJ.
Jimmy thought about it. He'd met Genelle and talked to her for a little bit. She treated him with the amused tolerance that older girls treated their boyfriends' younger brothers. "Doubt it," he said. "Besides, they're all at the lake."
That sucks, thought HJ.
The two boys went upstairs, talked for a while, played video games, thought about homework, and tried not to think about the car. Jimmy's Mom told him that it was his turn to run the vacuum cleaner upstairs, and he and HJ did the stairs and hallways. The chores didn't help; Jimmy's Mom's vacuum cleaner made him think about Genelle's Trans Am.
The boys went back downstairs after they were done. Jimmy's Mom called them over. "Boys, I need to run to the store," she said. "I'll be gone for about an hour. Do you promise to behave?"
"Yes, Mom," said Jimmy.
"Yes, ma'am," said HJ.
They sat down in the living room and Jimmy turned on the big screen TV. Jimmy had cable and they flicked through the channels. Nothing really excited them.
"Mind if I get a drink?" said HJ.
"Sure, go ahead," said Jimmy. HJ got off the couch and started towards the Prestons' kitchen. He walked over to the cabinet where Mrs. Preston kept the glasses, pulled one down, put some ice in it, and then filled it with tap water. Eau de tap, he told himself. 1989, a vintage year.
HJ started back towards the living room and saw something shiny lying on the carpet. Could it be? Nope, he told himself, but he walked over to pick it up anyway. They were car keys.
"Hey, Jimmy, are these your Mom's or Dad's?" said HJ, dangling the car keys.
"I don't think so," said Jimmy. "Dad and Mom keep their spares upstairs."
HJ thought about the Trans Am parked on the curb outside.
"Wanna know what I think?" said HJ.
"What?" said Jimmy.
"I'll bet you they're Genelle's." said HJ. "Want to find out?"
Jimmy grinned. "Sure," he said.
They went back outside and walked around the Trans Am. Peering through the windows, HJ could feel the metal, the power, the speed. He wondered just how fast it could go.
"The moment of truth," said HJ, holding the car key. "Do you want to do it or should I?"
"You do it," said Jimmy.
HJ inserted the car key into the door lock. The key turned, the door unlocked, and they were in.
"Whoa," said Jimmy.
"Cool," said HJ. The sports car was new enough that it still had that thrilling new-car smell but it also smelled like what HJ decided was girl: a scent of perfume and—ugh—tobacco. He opened the ash tray and saw several cigarette butts with lipstick marks on them. Yeah, she was a smoker, HJ thought with disgust.
It took a little fumbling, but HJ was able to adjust the seats and the mirrors. "Let's get this show on the road. Fasten your seatbelt, Jimmy," said HJ.
"Why?" said Jimmy.
"To be safe," said HJ. "That's what my Mom says."
"You gotta be kidding," said Jimmy.
"Just do it," said HJ.
"Whatever," said Jimmy, rolling his eyes.
"Let's take it for a drive," said HJ.
"You know how to drive?" said Jimmy.
"I think so," said HJ. "I've used those simulators. I'll bet that I'm better than half of the guys who have real driver's licenses."
HJ was way too young to get a driver's license, but he had a lot more experience than kids his parents' age did when they applied for their learners' permits. HJ had put in a lot of time on simulators like the ones they had at the video arcades and also the ones they had at the kid safety fairs. He preferred the ones at the arcades: the better ones, the more realistic ones simulated dirt track or race tracks and he could go as fast as he could go.
Mom tolerated his simulator habit, but often made him use the downer simulators like the ones at the safety fairs. She claimed that those showed real-life driving conditions: ones with crazy pedestrians, idiot drivers, slick roads, and sudden traffic jams. They were the only simulators on the market approved by the insurance companies. He played them, drove well over the speed limit and occasionally spun out, but as far as he was concerned, they were downers. More often than not he'd hit some dog or pedestrian, clip someone else's car, spin out, or get busted by the cops. Game over.
Blah.
His problem with the simulators was that he drove too fast and the programs threw too much at him too fast. But he bet he could drive a real Trans Am if he could keep his speed down.
Let's do this, he told himself. HJ turned the ignition key and the car started. Cool, he thought. Jimmy's eyes opened wide in astonishment. HJ moved the gear shift into drive. He thanked Whatever that the Trans Am had an automatic transmission. He'd tried driving cars with manual transmissions but had a hard time synchronizing gear shifts with the clutch pedals. If he had to shift gears he'd get caught in no time.
He shifted the car into forward and prepared to drive away from the curb. He was just about to take his foot off the brake pedal when something told him to look in the side view mirror before he moved away from the curb. Car. Way too close. If he moved away from the curb now he'd hit it and the stuff would hit the fan.
He turned on the radio. The station the girl had picked was playing Blondie's "The Hardest Part." HJ didn't want to knock over an armored car; his aims were more modest. He just wanted to take this baby on a test drive. He drove down the street. It was a quiet day in the neighborhood without much traffic; a distracted-looking mom returning home from errands, a Mexican yard man with his eyes closed grooving on music at a stop sign, a delivery truck, slightly older kids on bicycles. HJ worried about those guys; his Dad had told him that next to dogs, those were the most unpredictable things he could find on the street.
There was a stop sign at Endor, the next street down. Despite his unfamiliarity with Genelle's ride, HJ slowed down and came to a smooth stop. Just like a grown-up would do, he thought. There was no oncoming traffic and HJ shifted his foot from the brake to the accelerator pedal. The car was a little jerky when he pressed down on the gas pedal. He glanced nervously in the rear view and side mirrors, and despite the fact there were no other moving cars in sight, he hoped nobody noticed.
So far everything was cool, no problem. He took a moment from driving and grinned at Jimmy. It was like the time that he went out to that wizard's ranch and drove around that pasture in a pickup truck, only with more obstacles. He passed Ruddigore but didn't turn right: he was sure Mom would catch him if he turned onto his home street. His confidence began to grow as he grew a little more familiar with the Trans Am's performance. We might just get away with this, he thought. Prematurely, as it turned out.
"Cop car," said Jimmy.
Crap. "I see it," said HJ. HJ so did not want to deal with the cops. The cop car was facing the same way he was. If the cop saw him and Jimmy, he'd have to use his rear or side mirrors. So how could he deal with this?
The best way to avoid cop problems would have been to go down another street and avoid passing the cop car at all. He couldn't do that: the bozos who'd designed his neighborhood so he couldn't take another street over to Enchanted Rock. He'd have to pass the cop car.
Think fast, Morgendorffer, he told himself. He needed to get past the cop car so they could get back on Enchanted Rock and park the Trans Am and then get clear. The way things were right now, if the cops got a look at him, they'd see him as a nine year-old boy and bust his butt. He looked like a nine year-old boy because he was a nine year old boy. There was no way out, his ass was grass. Or was it? He remembered that sometimes grown-ups occasionally mistook him for a teenaged girl.
Was there a way to use that idea on the cops, he asked himself. He pulled over to curb and stopped.
"What are you doing?" asked Jimmy.
"Thinking," said HJ. He looked around the front seat and saw nothing except a tube of chap-stick.
"Anything in the back?" he asked.
"One of Genelle's head-bands," Jimmy replied.
"Pass it over," said HJ. "It might save our butts."
Genelle's headband was plastic, shiny and pink. Definitely girl, thought HJ. He gritted his teeth and put it on.
"What the—" asked Jimmy. "Are you trying to turn homo?"
"No," said HJ. "I'm trying to fool the cops. If we can't make them think we're as old as Mike, maybe we can trick them into thinking we're teenage girls."
"You gotta be kidding," said Jimmy. "The cops will never fall for it."
"Only if they give us more than a quick look," said HJ.
"If they bust us, I'll say I told you so," said Jimmy.
"If they bust us," HJ said with more confidence than he felt. He shifted back into Drive, then began to drive towards the cop car. Jimmy didn't share his confidence: he ducked down in his seat and hoped he wouldn't be seen..
HJ remembered that program about the French Revolution on the History Channel. That guy kept saying "L'Audace, l'Audace, L'Audace, Toujours l'Audace!" He didn't want trouble with the cops. Mom would kill him. He felt the fear creeping down his arms and back but L'Audace was all he had.
He was now next to the parked cop car. He drove on, telling himself Think Girl, Think Girl, Think Girl. He rolled past it as if he owned the Trans Am and had every business driving in his neighborhood and hoped that the cop wouldn't pay any attention. The cop gave his car a glance and then went back to doing whatever he was doing.
Both he and Jimmy gave big sighs of relief. He stopped at the stop sign and took several deep breaths. The radio station started playing Pete Seeger's Shakedown. Ugh. He changed channels and discovered that the other station was also playing Blondie.
The hardest part
Of the armored car
Is the man of steel
Behind the steering wheel.
"Anybody on my right?" he asked Jimmy, who was still shaken up.
"Jimmy?" he asked again.
"Uh, nobody," said Jimmy.
HJ cast a look to the left to cover his own bases. Nobody coming, HJ said to himself. He glanced to the right. Jimmy was too freaked to pay good attention. He put his foot down lightly down on the gas pedal and turned right. Too close! Fortunately, the tires missed the curb. He sped up a little, noting that if he even tapped the gas pedal the Trans Am wanted to shoot off like a rocket. Another intersection, this one with Yield signs for cross traffic: the Trans Am cleared it. They were back on Enchanted Rock, Jimmy's street. Not far now. Just a couple of houses now.
Something told him they weren't yet in the clear. HJ cast a glance over to his right just as Jimmy cried "Watch out!" and saw a neighbor horsing his sedan out of his driveway. HJ came to a quick stop about six feet from the driveway. The neighbor cast them a glance, looked puzzled, but then drove away. HJ hoped that he didn't call the cops.
They parked the car. It was a couple of feet from where Genelle had parked it, but HJ thought that Genelle wouldn't notice. At least he hoped that Genelle wouldn't notice.
"That was cool!" said Jimmy as HJ turned off the ignition and set the Shift to Park. "But let's get out of here!"
"Not yet," said HJ. He picked up the hand towel he'd brought with him and started wiping down the steering wheel and the buttons for the radio.
"What are you doing?" said Jimmy.
"Getting rid of the evidence," said HJ.
HJ made some more swipes with the towel. Trained wizards had a spell like Scourgefy but HJ didn't know how to do it. Besides, he didn't have a wand on him. He had to do the best he could.
"Anything I missed?" he said. Jimmy recovered enough to take off the hat band.
"Oh, yeah, that," said HJ. Jimmy tossed it in the back seat.
The boys got out: first Jimmy, then HJ. HJ draped the hand towel around his neck, then pushed the door lock button before closing it. I hope this is going to be a real locked room mystery, he thought but didn't say.
The boys' luck still held: Mrs. Preston hadn't gotten back from the store, Mr. Preston was still out at the golf course or someplace else, and Mike and his friends were still at the lake. HJ had expected some shoe to drop at the last moment, but it looked like he and Jimmy were going to get away with it.
He thought about trying the same stunt with Mom's car and shuddered. They'd have been busted before they drove away from the curb. They'd been darn lucky.
"We did it," he said. "But let's not do it again."
-(((O-O)))—
Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon, UK
Several years later
"Did you?" said George Weasley.
"Yeah," said Harry. "We got away with it. Jimmy's Mum came home a little later. She didn't see a thing. We did tell her that we found Genelle's car key on the floor."
Arthur Weasley had walked over to where the boys had been standing listening to Harry's acts of knavery.
"Did this Genelle ever guess what you'd been up to?" asked Arthur.
"Not really," said HJ. "Jimmy and I did own up to getting into her car and sitting behind her steering wheel. We never told her that we took it for a spin."
"Did she guess?" asked Arthur.
"I don't think she did. Besides, Jimmy and I were nine at the time. And after all, everyone knows that young kids don't know how to drive."
Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer* Harry Potter Morgendorffer
Author's notes: An advisory to foreign nationals resident in the US with or without documentation. Please DON'T imitate Harry James Morgendorffer's actions. The current presidential administration arrests and deports foreign nationals who commit far lesser offenses, no matter how long ago and no matter how young the offenders were when they committed them. Harry Potter Morgendorffer got away with his joy-ride by dint of the fact that he was not only a wizard, but he was incredibly lucky.
A word about this chapter: I rarely hear any of my characters talking to me. There were certain exceptions: my AU Daria Morgendorffer from Daria Ravenclaw had things to say to me once or twice, as did another AU Daria from a Wild Wild West crossover that's currently on hiatus, but most of the other characters kept quiet. This story's near-canon Draco Malfoy, who hasn't appeared yet, broke the silence and started ranting about Saint Potter the Muggles' friend, and that he couldn't possibly be as well-behaved as the stone-blind teachers and staff of Hogwarts thought he was. Despite the fact that I dislike Draco Malfoy and I know the young scamp growing up in an alternate-universe Austin suburb much better than he does, I was forced to concede that the Draco had a point. And so, admittedly with the Weasleys' flying Anglia in mind, I started work on this part of Harry Potter Morgendorffer.