Powerful Stuff

"Ah... Hello, Mr. William."

Mr. Granger greeted the driver, though he found it odd that the man hadn't rolled down the window to speak—something that struck him as a bit impolite.

Then again, considering the strange ways of the wizarding world, he figured it was probably just another magical quirk. Wizards did love their air of mystery.

But just as that thought passed, the window suddenly rolled down with a soft mechanical hum.

Luna and Nagini stiffened in surprise. Sitting in the driver's seat now was a cool-looking middle-aged man, wearing a round-brimmed hat and a pair of sleek black sunglasses.

Wait—what? Hadn't the seat been empty just a moment ago?

"Sorry," the man said with a disarming smile. "This car's a bit old. Window gets stuck sometimes."

His voice was smooth, almost too polite. Mr. Granger blinked, realizing it wasn't rudeness or a cultural divide. It was just faulty mechanics. Now that he saw the car properly, he noticed how aged the blue Ford looked—scratched paint, old tires, even a small dent on the door.

Hermione, however, had gone quiet.

Because the more she looked at the car, the more familiar it seemed.

Could it be...?

The chipped paint, the shape of the front grill, even the faint shimmer in the headlights—it all matched. This had to be the same car. The one that turned into a robot and pointed a weapon at her and Cassandra in the Room of Requirement!

She stared at the Ford, stunned.

How was that giant Autobot now just... a car?

Meanwhile, Mr. Granger had wandered into the garage and returned with a half-empty bottle of motor oil.

"Sometimes it's just a bit of rust," he said cheerfully, holding out the bottle. "A little oil and it works like new."

William accepted it graciously.

Truthfully, he had no idea what motor oil was.

He unscrewed the cap and sniffed it.

"Hmmm... smells good," he remarked with a straight face.

"Uh... really?" Mr. Granger chuckled, now accustomed to the oddities of magical folk. He'd once seen a wizard ask what a rubber duck was for, so this wasn't the strangest thing he'd encountered.

"Can I keep it?" William asked, lifting the bottle slightly.

"Sure. I was going to give it to you anyway."

"You're a generous gentleman," William nodded.

"It's just old oil," Mr. Granger laughed. "Nothing special."

But he found himself liking this wizard. He drove a car! That alone made him seem almost normal.

"Thanks again," William said, turning to Blake.

"Alright," Blake replied. "Let's get going. Mr. Granger, we'll take good care of Hermione."

Mr. Granger perked up at that. "We," not "I." So it was a group trip! A study camp, perhaps?

"Take care on the road," he said as he and his wife waved from the porch.

William nodded back, touching the brim of his hat before the black window slid up again.

The old Ford purred to life and slowly rolled down the street until it turned the corner and vanished.

Inside the car, Nagini and Luna kept stealing curious glances at William. There was something off about him—and they were sure Blake had been in the driver's seat earlier.

Now Blake sat in the front passenger seat, while the three girls sat in the back.

The car was old and slightly cramped, but not uncomfortably so.

Hermione finally broke the silence. "Is something wrong?"

Luna and Nagini didn't answer right away, still watching William with suspicion.

"I'm sorry," William said. "Blake told me to stay hidden. If people saw a car driving itself, it might raise alarms. So... I improvised."

Even as he spoke, his body shimmered and disassembled into floating fragments before vanishing completely.

The girls gasped in unison.

Blake remained calm. "Well done, Megatron. You're learning."

"Although you gave me the mimicry system, Blake, you never told me when to use it. I judged the moment on my own. I hope I didn't overstep."

His voice now echoed from the car itself—from everywhere at once.

"Mimicry?" Hermione frowned. "What's going on?"

"My apologies, Miss Granger," Megatron said gently. "I owe you an explanation... and an apology."

"An apology?" Hermione looked around in confusion.

"I wasn't trying to threaten you back in the Room of Requirement. I had just been born. My first instinct was to protect Blake at all costs. When I saw someone approach him, I... panicked."

He paused.

"I was foolish. But I promise, I'll never be so reckless again."

Hermione's eyes widened in realization.

He was the Autobot from that day!

But... how could a mechanical being express guilt? Or speak with such awareness?

Her mind reeled.

Nagini and Luna didn't know the full backstory, but it was clear now that Hermione and Megatron had crossed paths before—and not pleasantly.

Blake, meanwhile, watched with pride.

The soul he'd created—yes, created—had learned fast. He hadn't programmed these lessons. Megatron had figured them out by observing and growing.

That growth was key.

Because Megatron wasn't just a mechanical companion—he was Blake's little brother, born of Blake's magic, formed by his soul magic experiments.

He wasn't like house elves or programmed constructs. He had a true bond with Blake, one that would never break.

And if Blake ever died... Megatron's soul would vanish too.

Because it was a creation of Blake's magic. And magic like this didn't survive the death of its caster.

Still deep in thought, Blake noticed Hermione had gone quiet.

She had accepted the apology.

She wasn't the type to hold grudges, especially when someone apologized sincerely. Now that the misunderstanding was behind them, her natural curiosity took over.

"Blake, did you make... him? Not the car, but Megatron?"

"Technically... yes."

Hermione was stunned.

"You made a soul. That's... that's impossible!"

Blake shook his head. "Not impossible. Just complicated. I discovered soul magic while researching ways to help the Longbottoms."

He didn't elaborate. The knowledge was too dense to explain here.

Hermione understood. Creating life was no small feat.

She sat back in awe, needing time to process everything.

Luna, meanwhile, stared at the steering wheel.

"Mr. Megatron, why don't you use your mimicry again? It's strange hearing your voice without seeing anyone."

"I can—but only with Blake's permission."

Blake nodded. "You have it."

There was a soft whirring sound. Bits of metal reassembled themselves in the seat.

"William" reappeared, smiling and taking the wheel again.

"As you wish."

Luna grinned. "How about we call you 'Megatron' in robot form and 'William' in human form?"

"Understood. I've added the alias to my memory."

He didn't even need Blake's approval this time. He was learning what decisions required permission—and which didn't.

The car turned down a narrow, empty alley.

"Ready to go?" William asked.

Blake checked the surroundings and gave a nod. "Go ahead."

William pressed a button beneath the dashboard.

The blue Ford shimmered—then vanished.

Minutes later, Hermione sat stunned, staring at the clouds through the window.

"The car... it's flying…"

"That's right," Blake said. "I found it in the Forbidden Forest. It's the same Ford from the Weasleys—Harry and Ron drove it their second year."

Hermione's mouth dropped.

"You mean... Mr. Weasley doesn't know you took it?"

Blake rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, I did compensate him."

"How?"

Blake handed her the latest issue of the Daily Prophet.

On the front page was a smiling Arthur Weasley.

"Mr. Weasley just won a Daily Prophet prize—two thousand Galleons."

Hermione blinked. "The real prize is only seven hundred…"

"I boosted it," Blake admitted. "Felt like a fair trade."

Hermione mulled it over. "Alright... but maybe repaint the car? Mr. Weasley might recognize it."

"Good point!" Blake snapped his fingers. "Back in Los Santos, first thing you do with a stolen car is respray it!"

William sighed. "I actually like the blue…"

Blake smirked. "How about changing your model instead?"

William perked up, pulling out a magazine and pointing at a photo. "How about this? Rolls-Royce Phantom."

Blake winced. "Yeah, maybe stick to repainting."

"Fine…" William muttered, disappointed.

Then, to everyone's shock, he raised the motor oil bottle, tipped it back—and drank.

"Hiccup..."

"Powerful stuff," he said with a satisfied sigh.

Blake groaned. "I swear, he's learning too well…"

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