rionaleonhart | Unless, Of Course, I Am Wrong.

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Unless, Of Course, I Am Wrong.

Sometimes, I worry 'what if the impossible happens?' and become very distressed when I can't work out a way of fixing it. I have actually thought 'what if Jeremy Clarkson and I swap bodies for some reason and we can't find a way to change back? What if he doesn't want to change back? OH MY GOD, WHAT WILL I DO WHEN THAT HAPPENS?'

Yes, Riona, I am sure that your inability to work out how to reverse an inexplicable bodyswap will have terrible consequences in the future.

I'd like to have some sort of content in this entry, but I don't really have anything to say. Apart from 'er, please tell me I'm not the only person who thought that Charles and Sir were totally a couple in Lemony Snicket's The Penultimate Peril?', but I'm a bit afraid of saying that in case everyone says 'Yes, Riona, you are the only person who thought that. Take your slash-addled brain and stay far away from children's books, please.'

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Oh, I think I may have fallen in love with Hogglesbrook. (And 'twisting and turning in the manner that Clarkson imagined his fingers would be twisting and turning through Hammond's hair later' - eeee!)

"You won't be doing anything after!" cried Hammond, aghast.

Hee hee hee! Oh, poor Hammond.

Awww, Top Gear Dog trying to comfort Richard. She is so very lovely.

I adore 'an entirely evil grin that had no good intentions whatsoever'. Hee!

I want to live in Hogglesbrook.

Yet again, I am stupidly pleased.

(Oh, dear, I am probably being very bothersome in endlessly continuing this. I just really like writing it.)

Richard drummed his fingers against the car door, desperately praying that Slow would hurry the bloody hell up for once, and trying to ignore the fact that the boy with the round glasses and not at all stylishly messy hair seemed to have noticed them despite their attempts to hide away from the villagepeople. He nudged his friend, a red-haired boy who had been kissing a frizzy-haired girl with an intelligent-looking face, and pointed at the car. Yes, they had been spotted. Richard attempted to hide.

Jeremy glanced over at him. "You don't have to do that, Hammond, I doubt anyone can see you over the steering wheel anyway."

Richard glared at him. "We've been spotted!"

"Oh. That's not good, is it?"

"Well, no, Jeremy, somehow I think it isn't. Duck, all of you!"

All four of them crouched down, hoping the trio of teenagers wouldn't spot them. It was at this point that they heard a knock at the window.

"Jeremy, under no circumstances are you to act like a teenage girl again. Got that?"

Jeremy forced a giggle and tossed his hair. "But, like, oh my God, I'm so - "

Richard held up his hand. "The end of that sentence is; 'dead if I act like a teenage girl again'. Very dead."

Jeremy pouted. "I don't know why all of you fail to appreciate my acting talent. I'm much better at acting than half the people at the Oscars."

The knock became more insistent.

"If you say 'like' at any point during the police interview, you're never driving a car again," Richard warned him. He peered upwards from his awkward vantage point, and there was James May, looking rather bemused.

Richard shot up and opened the car door. "Well, if it isn't Even-Slower-Than-Usual!" he snapped. "Honestly, you'd think you might consider going faster than thirty miles an hour when we're in this state."

James looked at him, unperturbed. "I didn't want to smash any of the breakables by hurling my car around corners at ridiculous speeds." Noticing Harriet, he extended a hand across the driver's seat. "Hello," he said pleasantly, "it's very nice to meet you in person."

Harriet shook his hand. "Er, it's very nice to meet you too," she said, smiling awkwardly.

May grinned at Clarkson. "And how exactly do you feel, Jeremy?"

Another slow and evil smile spread across his face. Richard, noticing this, grabbed James' arm and dragged him back to the car. "Ignore him, his hormones are playing up."

May looked at him curiously. "You mean he's..."

Richard cut him off. "No, ugh, no, May, what is wrong with your brain? Honestly, Clarkson... ugh, no, I... oh, thank you, May, for putting that in my head, I'm sure the nightmares will be bloody lovely."

May shrugged. "Well, you said hormones, so..."

"We are not talking about this any more!"

Clarkson appeared behind him. "Talking about what, exactly, Hammond?"

"About... about who's going to carry this box. It's going to be you." Richard grabbed the box from the pile in May's boot and shoved it into Jeremy's arms.

"You don't seem to want me and May to talk," said Jeremy pleasantly. "Is there any reason for that?"

"Boxes, Jeremy, boxes of food to unpack," said Hammond nervously. "I'm starving, anyone else? Oh, Harriet, you must be very hungry with Clarkson's stomach; he usually eats about nine times a day, ha-ha, here, have a... well, don't have that, that's a can of petrol, er... have a loaf of bread. You too, Clarkson, go and eat together." Richard shoved Jeremy to send him on his way.

He smiled broadly at May. "I'm, er, sure they have...body-swapping things to talk about, so we'll just sit here and have, ah...custard creams! They'll do nicely." Hammond tore open the packet. His grin was fast becoming maniacal.

Erm, and random waffling about Hogglesbrook, also.

James was concerned about the effect that spending an entire day trapped in a confined space with Jeremy Clarkson could have on a man. "Lovely village, this, isn't it?" he said, hoping to get Richard to calm down by pointing at the delicate trees which were waving in the breeze, making pleasant swooshing noises; the pink-and-orange-tinged sunset that silhouetted the small town; the grassy slopes that looked so oddly comfortable to lie down on, and which TG was now wandering happily over; and the rambling rows of houses, slightly misshapen houses with small gardens and whitewashed walls and quaint little gardens where the red of roses blazed like fire. Richard nodded awkwardly. It wasn't lovely with Jeremy Clarkson in it.

(Apparently I am now a travel brochure for a place that doesn't actually exist.)

STOP MAKING ME WANT TO VISIT A NONEXISTENT TOWN; IT IS NOT FAIR.

*cackles an evil cackle of doom* Er, I'm sorry. I want to go there too...

WHY ARE THE HARRY POTTER TRIO THERE? YOU LUNATIC. (These are capital letters of insane grinning and joy, by the way.)

"The end of that sentence is; 'dead if I act like a teenage girl again'. Very dead."

Hee! Thank you, Richard.

Oh, James must have been so puzzled when they all ducked. This is brilliant.

Yay, James is being polite!

"No, ugh, no, May, what is wrong with your brain? Honestly, Clarkson... ugh, no, I... oh, thank you, May, for putting that in my head, I'm sure the nightmares will be bloody lovely."

Ahahaha! Oh, God.

WHAT ARE YOU UP TO, HAMMOND? OH, GOD, WHY ARE YOU LEAVING ME ALONE WITH THE LUNATIC IN MY BODY?

*is late yet again*

Erm, well, Draco mentioned something about how with the name Hogglesbrook it seemed as though it was turning into a Harry Potter crossover, so, um, yes, the credit goes to her.

Hurrah, Richard is preventing the evil!

Oh, that was a Draco thing as well, as she mentioned how May would snigger and ask Jeremy if he'd started his period yet.

HE IS SELFISH AND IS PROTECTING HIMSELF FROM JEREMY AND HIS INNUENDO.

And hooray that I am not being bothersome! *is ridiculously pleased again*

The meal did not appear to be going well. Hammond chewed on his custard cream in a distinctly hamster-ish fashion; Jeremy waved at them cheerfully, and a cheerful Jeremy meant a Jeremy plotting evil deeds; Harriet did not look pleased that she was stuck sitting next to him, and edged away rather worriedly; TG hovered nearby like a guard dog, sending venomous glares towards Jeremy.

"Might I ask," said May pleasantly, "why you seem so eager to be as far away from Clarkson as possible? I mean, I can certainly understand the need to get away from him, but I was rather hoping that I might manage to try out some girl-Clarkson jokes I've been working on."

"You don't want to know," muttered Richard grimly, hoping that his faithful dog might bite the bastard, and then remembering that of course it would be poor Harriet that would have to put up with the injury.

"I think I should be the judge of what I do or don't want to know."

"No, trust me on this one, May, you really don't want to know."

"Why?"

Hammond pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jeremy appears to be under the impression that us three... beginning some sort of a... oh, I can't do this. You don't want to know, May, believe me."

May looked rather curious, but dropped the subject anyway. "I must say, Top Gear Dog seems to have taken well to... er, what was her name?"

"Harriet," said Richard, feeling the worry gnaw at his stomach like the Very Hungry Caterpillar. "Jeremy's been torturing her all day, as I told you."

May sighed. "Poor girl." He glanced over at Jeremy, who seemed to be barraging Harriet with questions. "Er, dare we even ask what he's doing?"

"Oh, God, he wants her to tell him why she doesn't think he's repulsive; like his ego needs to get any more inflated."

Over by a the rather delightful patch of pansies, Jeremy was, indeed, asking repeatedly for Harriet to give him a list of reasons why she liked him.

"Is it my overwhelming intelligence or my gentlemanly..." Harriet was looking at him incredulously. "What? Ooh, did I get crumbs in my hair? Oh, no, I'll never get asked to the school disco, and Jeremy Clarkson will never fancy me, and he's like the hottest man on the planet, definitely better than Richard..." Harriet now looked rather irritated. Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

"You know, I'm considering letting Hammond throw you out of the car. And I'm not sure I do like you any more."

Jeremy looked horrified. "But I've been so nice!" TG growled slightly. "Shut up, dog, you don't scare me. Honestly, Harriet, I've been so kind to you, and you repay me with a horrible death threat. I'm appalled. I thought you were a nice girl. Clearly Hammond has gotten to you with his evil mind-controlling powers. You still love me deep down, you just need to remember." Jeremy frowned. Harriet was staring at a spot just over his shoulder with a horrified expression on her face. "What?" asked Jeremy, turning around. Oh, no. It was the Famous Five again, only there were three of them and there wasn't a dog. Which was probably a good thing, considering his immense dislike of TG.

Hee hee hee, the Very Hungry Caterpillar! And Richard not being able to bring himself to say it! And 'I'm appalled'! And 'It was the Famous Five again, only there were three of them and there wasn't a dog' is genius. I love the wonderful absurdity of this fic so much.

It is very odd... and I am so pleased that you like it, because I adore writing it in all its absurdity.

The boy with the glasses, Jeremy noticed, had a rather unpleasant-looking scar on his head. 'Good', he thought viciously. 'Little git, spying on me all the bloody time.' "Excuse me, but what the bloody hell are you doing behind those bushes? Conducting a threesome?" Hammond, having strolled over to check poor Harriet was not suffering too much at the hands of Darth Idiot, buried his face in his hands and thanked every known and unknown power in the universe that he'd managed to convince May to stay with the custard creams. "And speaking of threesomes..." said Clarkson, grinning at Richard. He thanked them again, profusely.

"Jeremy, could you please for once think about other people? There are five people and one dog who could very well be scarred for life by hearing you say such things."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "These three idiots are playing detective, and we are the possible criminals, so forgive me if I don't care what mental scars they develop from encounters with me."

The boy with the round glasses cleared his throat and shot Jeremy a glare with his worryingly green eyes. They were the sort of eyes hypnotists had, which was not a good thing at all. "We are not 'playing detective'. I happened to spot that, er, you happen to have a very nice purse, and Hermione would like to have it."

"This?" said Jeremy, holding out the glittery Superbabe purse he had mocked Harriet for in their first conversation.

Richard burst out laughing. "Jeremy, is that yours?"

Jeremy glared. "No, it's hers. I thought we might need money. Like money for a nice warm bed," he said, grinning a horrible horrible grin that showed all his teeth. Richard worried that he might say something along the lines of 'all the better to eat you with' next, but he didn't. And then Richard realised he had just been thinking of himself as Little Red Riding Hood, which was slightly worrying.

He decided to glare at Jeremy instead of focussing on thoughts of himself as a fairytale character. "But you kept it, didn't you, Clarkson, you didn't give it back; so you're a thief, as well as a fan of glittery girl-things. What's next, Clarkson? You 'borrowed' her eyeshadow because you thought she might need it to keep out the cold?"

"It's fine, er, keep it," said Harriet.

"But what if I sign it? Then you can show all your friends that the divine Jeremy Clarkson actually touched one of your things!"

"My friends aren't exactly fans of yours..." Harriet trailed off, looking suspiciously at the triumvirate of hedge-lurking loonies. Suddenly a Eureka-type expression flashed across her face. "You - my - Clarkson - my purse is the Horcrux!" she exclaimed.

Scarhead-boy exchanged glances with his friends. Frizzy-girl pulled out what appeared to be a stick of wood. "Obliv-"

However, before she could finish the sentence, a hand had been clapped over her mouth by Jeremy. "Before you start turning me into a frog, or whatever it is you're planning on doing, could one of you please explain what a Horcrux is? Because the only thing that comes to mind is 'hideous fashion mistake'."

Richard snorted. "You care about fashion!"

Jeremy snatched the stick from Frizzy-girl. "Higgledy-jiggledy-piggledy!" he cried, pointing it at Richard. Nothing happened. "This is broken," said Jeremy, handing it back to Frizzy-girl.

(Ahem. I may have a) insulted your Superbabe purse; b) presumed your friends dislike Clarkson; and c) made your Superbabe purse into a Horcrux. This is what happens when you write really weird things. Also, I am very sorry.)

I CAN'T BREATHE

Wow, the trio must have been rather confused by Richard repeatedly calling the girl (and the girl calling herself) 'Jeremy'.

"Higgledy-jiggledy-piggledy!" he cried, pointing it at Richard. Nothing happened. "This is broken," said Jeremy, handing it back to Frizzy-girl.

AHAHAHA, THAT IS FANTASTIC.

(It is quite all right; my Superbabe purse deserves to be insulted (the glitter isn't too noticeable, but the logo is not as unlike this as I would like), and most of my friends don't actually watch Top Gear at all. The purse-is-a-Horcrux thing is forgiveable because it is hilarious.)

(Late replies again, because of Things Of Doom To Do.)

Hooray, you liked it!

Oh, I expect they were, to be honest...

(Hee, Superbabe logo!)

Frizzy-girl scowled at Jeremy. "It is not broken, it is just that you happen to know nothing about magic."

Jeremy glared at her. "Well you have twigs in your hair."

Frizzy-girl looked rather worried, and began frantically checking her hair to see what foliage might be lurking within. Redhaired-boy sighed. "She's kidding." Frizzy-girl glared at Jeremy and crossed her arms.

"Harriet," said Jeremy, turning to her, but he was cut off before he could continue the sentence.

"Hang on," said Redhaired-boy, "the girl being called Jeremy I could just about cope with, but he's called Harriet as well? Where on Earth do you people come from?"

"I don't think you get to talk about strangeness," said Richard, "considering that you're hiding in a bush and you have what appear to be wands."

"We have normal names," said Redhaired-boy stubbornly. "My name's Ron, and you can't get more normal than that."

Frizzy-girl whipped her head around to glare at him. "You just revealed our identities to complete strangers! How do you know they aren't Death Eaters?"

"They aren't very good ones. Anyway, at least I didn't tell them that my surname is Weasley."

Frizzy-girl made a very annoyed face at him, and raised her wand-thing.

"I wouldn't bother," said Jeremy. "I've told you, it's broken."

Frizzy-girl looked as though she might explode with rage.

"Calm down, Hermione," said Scarhead-boy placidly. "They'd have to be the most useless Death Eaters in the world if they didn't recognise me."

"Well now that's a bit cocky, isn't it?" said Jeremy. "I don't expect everyone in the world to recognise me, although frankly those who don't must be blithering idiots not to watch Top Gear."

"Maybe they do, and they've achieved what we all want to and managed to ignore you," said Richard.

Jeremy stared at him. "But Richard, I'm the best thing about the show! No-one would watch if it was just you and May skipping about and talking about Graham Norton's arse and your hair and how completely bloody boring the pair of you are."

"Well, no, Jeremy, but they would if we got rid of you and managed to still present the show the way it is now, only without some great buffoon ruining everything."

Jeremy was about to retort when he noticed that May had wandered over, a curious expression on his face.

"Who are these three?"

"They've escaped from the local mental asylum and seem to think that this thing," Jeremy held up the purse, "is some sort of Horlicks."

"Horcrux." said Hermione stubbornly.

"Now who's revealing secrets?" said Ron smugly.

"Ron, the Death Eaters are looking for the Horcruxes too, they already know..." Hermione trailed off and pointed an accusing finger at Harriet. "You! You're a death eater! I should have known! Your eyes look evil-"

"Hey!" Jeremy cried indignantly, cutting her off. "I happen to think I have very friendly eyes!"

"I wasn't talking to you, you idiot, I was talking to him!" snapped Hermione.

May sighed. Clearly they were in for a very confusing time.

"Hang on," said Redhaired-boy, "the girl being called Jeremy I could just about cope with, but he's called Harriet as well? Where on Earth do you people come from?"

Ahahaha! The confusion is wonderful.

Oh, Ron, you are hopeless.

No-one would watch if it was just you and May skipping about and talking about Graham Norton's arse and your hair and how completely bloody boring the pair of you are.

Hee! I might, but it's true that it just wouldn't be the same without Clarkson.

Hermione trailed off and pointed an accusing finger at Harriet. "You! You're a death eater! I should have known! Your eyes look evil-"
"Hey!" Jeremy cried indignantly, cutting her off. "I happen to think I have very friendly eyes!"
"I wasn't talking to you, you idiot, I was talking to him!" snapped Hermione.

THIS IS THE MOST ABSURD THING EVER AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

(This seems to have taken me a while because I had to look up 'Specialis Revelio'. Or I'm just slow.)

I am so ridiculously pleased that you like it; I have an incredibly stupid grin that stretches for miles. I'm pretty sure I would watch it too, but I don't think Top Gear wouldn't be the same if any of them were removed.

"I'm not a Death Eater!" said Harriet, sounding very worried. However, she said it a little too quickly for Hermione's liking.

"Roll up your sleeves!" she snapped. Clarkson congratulated himself on the decision to not get a tattoo of the Bugatti Veyron enclosed in a heart. Although he still wanted one.

Harriet did so, and Hermione peered at her upper arms and muttered "Specialis Revelio" a few times. Satisfied that there was no sign of the Dark Mark, she sighed. "Fine, you can roll your sleeves down now."

"You know," said Clarkson, "I do have friendly eyes."

"I'm so happy for you," snapped Hermione.

"I think," said May pleasantly, "what Jeremy means is that Harriet has friendly eyes."

Ron rolled his eyes again at the sheer ridiculousness of those names. "Your parents must have really disliked you," he muttered.

At this point, worried expressions came over the faces of Jeremy, Harriet and Richard.

"May, do you happen to know if there's been any more news about the - ah, alleged kidnapping?" asked Richard.

Hermione looked very curious at this. "What kidnapping?" She glanced at Jeremy. "Did you kidnap her? Because I don't know why you'd want to keep someone so annoying."

Jeremy frowned at her. "I think you'll find all three of these people find me very pleasant company."

Richard snorted. "You spent the entire journey here either humiliating us or making horrible references to..." Richard trailed off as he remembered May was still standing there. "Horrible references to, er, things."

Jeremy grinned his unpleasant grin again. "Why, yes, Richard, thank you for reminding me - "

Richard interrupted him, red-faced. "May, back to the original question, any news about the kinapping? Any. Tell us all of it."

May frowned. "Well, the insane policeman was sacked; apparently he's hoping to get a job on Top Gear. I don't think there's anything else new; they're still looking for Harriet."

Hermione glanced over at Harriet. "Why did you kidnap him? He isn't famous; I've never seen him before."

"Well, I restate my earlier point about blithering idiots," sneered Clarkson.

"Hermione's not an idiot!" snapped Ron. "She got Os in all her subjects for the OWLs!"

"Apart from Defence Against the Dark Arts," Hermione reminded him quietly.

Clarkson snorted. "I've never even heard of OWLs, so that doen't count. And I am famous."

Hermione looked at him in bemusement and irritation. "We aren't talking about you, you self-centred idiot! None of us have ever seen him!"

"I have, actually," said Scarhead-boy. "He wasn't called Harriet, though. His name was... er, Jiminy or something, and he was talking about cars. I think those two blokes were there as well. And maybe the dog." TG nodded her thanks at being noticed, and settled against Harriet again, attempting to remind her that she wasn't the only sane one there.

Clarkson grinned. "Even the psychiatric ward thinks we're the best show on telly."

Hermione stared at him, disdain etched all over her features. "For the last time, you stupid, stupid girl, we're not talking about you! Honestly, you're the one that needs psychiatric help."

May wondered when the right time would be to tell the very irritated girl what exactly had happened.

Clarkson congratulated himself on the decision to not get a tattoo of the Bugatti Veyron enclosed in a heart. Although he still wanted one.

Oh, my God, you genius.

"Your parents must have really disliked you," he muttered. - heeee!

and settled against Harriet again, attempting to remind her that she wasn't the only sane one there.

Awww. Thank you, Top Gear Dog.

Oh, Jeremy is coming across as so insane. Bodyswapping is so confusing.

(Um. I think the lateness is de rigueur for me now.)

Top Gear Dog is a very kindly dog. Oh, dear, Jeremy. To be fair, I doubt Hermione would be too fond of him anyway. Yippee that you still like this! (Er, after reading the earlier comments, it has occurred to me that when you said 'I already laughed about it in the fic' you meant your fic-self was laughing at it and not that I was stealing things from myself. Erm, yes, that was the most pointless thing I have ever said. And it is perhaps a little weird that I decided to re-read the beginning of the demented bodyswap for no reason. Oh well.)

Suddenly, an idea occurred to May. He nudged Hammond in the ribs with his elbow and hissed, "You know, Richard, since these strange people have wands, they might be able to reverse this bodyswap and get us out of this mess."

Richard looked suddenly rather cheerful at the prospect of not going to jail, but then his face fell. "No, May, I don't think I really want Clarkson back to his normal self considering the things he's been threatening." Richard shudderd.

James looked at him curiously. "Hammond, I really think you need to explain what exactly it is that Clarkson's been threatening you with."

Richard scowled. "Do the words; 'You really don't want to know' mean nothing to you?"

"Rich, I don't think I can fully assess whether it's worth giving Clarkson the oppurtunity to act like a teenage girl just to avoid this threat being carried out without you telling me what it is."

"May, just trust me, it's awful."

May sighed. "I suppose I'll just have to ask Jez then."

Hammond's eyes bulged in horror. "What? No! No no no. You stay away from him."

At that precise moment, Jeremy had decided that now was perhaps the time to find out more about his new-found friend Harriet, to make his impression of a teenage girl even more convincing.

"Harriet, I'd like you to tell me what life is like as an eighteen-year-old girl in Britain today."

Hermione stared at them incredulously. "What?! Why on Earth are you asking a man in his forties what it's like to be a teenage girl?!"

"I think," muttered Ron, "you ought to be more concerned about why a man in his forties is called Harriet."

"Your surname is Weasley," Jeremy pointed out, and then realised that since he wasn't actually called Harriet, there was no reason to retort.

Ron looked hurt. "Weasley is a proud family name that's been carried down over generations! It's very well known in the wizarding world!"

"That doesn't mean it's not ridiculous."

Hermione cleared her throat, and was about to defend Ron with a speech about the origins of the Weasley family, their contribution to international wizarding and their help in the war against He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, when May appeared, smiling nervously. "I think I have an idea that could fix this."

"No you don't!" said Hammond desperately. May ignored him.

(I was wondering what you meant by the 'plagiarism' comment!)

Ahahaha! Even more convincing! (I hope you don't intend to move in permanently, Jeremy.) And Jeremy retorting even though there is absolutely no reason to! And Hammond's utter terror at the prospect of Jeremy being changed back!

(I am late. No-one is surprised.)

(Er, I'm sure he doesn't... the idea of your LJ entries as written by Jeremy is highly amusing, however, if possibly incredibly embarrassing for you. 'Hi, yeah, it's me. God, Clarkson is great isn't he? And, er, I like pink, and boybands and nail varnish and other teenage-girl things, because I'm not Jeremy Clarkson. Not at all.') I am thrilled, once again, that you like it!

"May, I mean it now. You don't want him changed back."

Clarkson's evil grin returned, in all its malevolent glory. "Oh, yes you do, May."

Hammond's head whipped round to glare at him. "Clarkson, if you stay the way you are, you... you get to pretend to be a teenage girl again."

Harriet gave him a horrified look, and TG shook her head in disapproval, and gave Harriet a sort of doggy-hug.

Clarkson grinned his horrible grin. "You do realise I'm going to follow you around shrieking 'Oh my God, it's Richard Hammond! Look, everybody, look at Richard Hammond! I'm his friend.' In fact, I think I'll become your full-time stalker, and sell embarrassing information about you to the newspapers." Clarkson's eyes glittered evilly. "Oh, this is going to be fun."

Hammond sighed. "Fine," he said.

May gave him a slightly horrified look. "Richard, I demand to know right now what it is he's threatening you with that's so awful you're willing to put up with Clarkson as your fangirl."

Hermione, Ron and Harry all looked very confused. "Excuse me," said Hermione, "but why are you referring to a girl as 'he', and what do you mean 'change back'?"

"There's no reason," said Hammond quickly. "She's just, er, not a very convincing teenage girl, so, ha, we all say that she isn't one. Isn't that fantastic! Now, go back to arguing about names."

"But Hammond," said Jeremy slyly, "they're all so confused! Put them out of their misery, why don't you? I'm sure there won't be any terrible consequences."

Hammond fumed. "Shut up, Clarkson, shut up."

May frowned. "As much as I hate to disagree with that statement, I can't help but still be curious-"

Richard interrupted. "Stop being so bloody curious! This is Clarkson. Remember Clarkson? The idiot? The lunatic? The man who has never once had a good idea in his life?!"

"Well, Richard, if you're going to be rude, then I might very well turn down your generous offer and tell James all about my little idea."

"What idea?" said Hermione. "I thought it was him that had the idea?"

"Oh, my idea is better."

"No! No it isn't!" cried Hammond. "You! With the glasses! What's your name? Is it Jessica? Catface? Mock him, someone, please!"

Scarhead-boy looked rather amused by Hammond's utter terror. "It's Harry, actually. Harry Potter."

"Right, well then, you're a pot. Jeremy, mock him!"

Jeremy smiled. "Richard, there are much better ways to spend our time. Like..."

Giving up, Hammond snatched Ron's wand, ignoring Ron's indignant cry of 'Hey!'. "I've got a wand, and I'm not afraid to use it," said Hammond, making vague lunging motions.

"It's not a sword," said Hermione. "Why do none of you know anything about magic?"

"Well, maybe you should tell us," said Richard, "and then maybe I could get him to shut up!"

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