The Witching Hour (Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover)

Chapter Eleven:

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

Each wizarding governing body will be responsible for the concealment, care and control of all magical beasts, beings, and spirits dwelling within its territory's borders. Should any such creature cause harm to, or draw the notice of, the Muggle community, that nation's wizarding governing body will be subject to discipline by the International Confederation of Wizards.

-Clause 73, International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy.

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It had been much simpler then I thought it would be- I didn't even need to use magic.

All I'd had to do was knock and ask how much he- the oldest Marks boy, the one who had graduated high school- wanted for the bikes. Turns out they were complete pieces of crap that didn't work and hadn't for years, and forget-his-name had offered to let me take them both free of charge.

I had, of course, had no problem accepting the offer, seeing as I was both  mostly broke and still remembered from what seemed like an eon ago who had fixed up my truck.

I was going to go pay Jacob Black a visit.

I wrote Charlie a note, which was the cowardly thing to do, but there was a reason I wasn't in Gryffindor and I planned on putting off the inevitable argument for as long as I could, having remembered, belatedly, that I was technically still grounded. So cowardly note now sitting on the kitchen table, O drove to about halfway to the reservation where I pulled out my battered copy of 'Hogwarts: A History' to pass time until school ended.

At nearly four o'clock I drove down to the reservation. The Blacks' house was vaguely familiar, a small wooden place with narrow windows, the dull red paint making it resemble a tiny barn. Jacob's head peered out of the window before I could even get out of the truck- no doubt the familiar roar of the engine had tipped him off to my approach.

He met me halfway to the house.

"Bella?" He asked, seeming almost wary.

"Jacob?" I asked, hesitantly. "Is something wrong?"

"No..." his voice trailed off, and he shook his head slightly before smiling, a genuine smile that alleviated my worries.

"You cut your hair!" I realised, and the smile widened to a grin.

"Come inside! You're getting all wet."

"I better not- I don't want Billy seeing me," I admitted. He looked at me confused. "I'm grounded. And I skipped school today." I elaborated. Jacob laughed.

"Okay, how about we go to the garage then?"

"Sounds great." I smile.

A thick stand of trees and shrubbery concealed his garage from the house. The garage was no more than a couple of big preformed sheds that had been bolted together with their interior walls knocked out.

Under this shelter, raised on cinder blocks, was what looked to me like a completed automobile. I recognized the symbol on the grille, at least.

"What kind of Volkswagen is that?" I asked.

"It's an old Rabbit-1986, a classic."

"How's it going?"

"Almost finished," he said cheerfully. I decided this was the perfect segue.

"Jacob, what do you know about motorcycles?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Some. My friend Embry has a dirt bike. We work on it together sometimes. Why?"