FicWad

A/N: Don't own it, don't have money, don't sue!
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The past week had been absolutely wonderful, Professor Snape was thinking as he sat at his desk at the head of the empty classroom. He was in for another glorious week. The seventh years were gone for two weeks. That meant no Harry Potter for two blissful weeks. No inane excuses, no wasted class time, no boy-who-lived(-to-annoy)! Nope, for the next week, Potter was not one of his problems. Potter was Flitwick and Sprouts problem, not his... Potter was America's problem.

Snape was just debating what to do with his free period that would have been the seventh year potions class when his door opened. Knowing that nothing could possibly ruin his mood since Potter was thousands of miles away, Snape turned towards the door with a smile on his face. A smile which wilted in an instant, and became a prominent frown, then a scowl as he sat and watched Slytherin and Gryffindor seventh years take their seats for class. Even knowing what was happening, Snape still did not brace himself to witness Potter walking back into his classroom an entire week early.

"NO!" Snape spoke loudly, causing many students to jump. Rising, Snape continued, "No, what are you doing back here?"

Since he was looking at Malfoy and the Slytherins, none of the Gryffindors bothered to open their mouths, they just glanced quickly at Harry then back down at their desks.

"To be honest, Sir," Malfoy drawled, "I'm not even sure. Ask Potter."

Still refusing to look away from his students and towards the Gryffindors, Snape actually asked, "Do I have to?"

"If you want answers, yea," was his only answer.

Crap. Was his only thought

Taking a deep breath, and bracing himself, he turned to Harry. He didn't even have to open his mouth to ask a question. The boy knew what his professor wanted to know, so Harry began.

"Well, did you know that if a foreign juvenile gets arrested too many times in a limited amount of time, said juvenile is deported?" Harry asked Snape, "And if said juvenile is part of a group, they all get deported? Yea. Yea, yea... see, I didn't know either..."

"How was I supposed to know it was illegal to yell "FIRE" in a crowded movie theater?" He mumbled.

Snape groaned. "It's called 'common sense' Potter, that's how. But that can't be all, right?"

"Right," Harry said, "Well, after that, I was kicked out of the theater, and so was everyone else, cause the managers of the mall didn't want a 'juvenile delinquent' roaming the mall alone. Well, anymore... I was for a while. And that was when I some how clogged up the water fountain and caused a flood, released the animals from the pet store, and, I don't even understand how I did this one, but I demagnetized the movies and DVDs in the stores. Luckily, they grouped all the incidents from the mall together, instead of making them four different incidents."

Here many students exchanged glances, apparently they hadn't heard about that part, although some were just wondering what a DVD was exactly.

"So," Snape interrupted the chattering students, "what next?"

"We caught a bus," Harry started, "bu-" and was cut off.

"You caught something?" Snape asked, and backed away, not stopping until he was pressed against the blackboard at the front of the class. "Are you all still sick?"

"No, Sir," Harry was trying desperately not to laugh, and was failing miserably, "a bus, it's like the knightbus... a way for people to travel."

"Oh,' Snape muttered, "right, a bus."

"Well, we had a long drive," Harry continued, "and I mean long. Like, three hours or something. We rode the bus for about... oh, half an hour, and walked the rest. So it was more like a 6 hour walk than anything else."

"Why?" Was all Snape asked.

"Well, there's this odd little yellow line on buses," Harry started. "Apparently people aren't supposed to cross them. I think his was broken, cause I was testing it, and I got past it every time. I kept telling him, and he kept getting upset that his line was broken. I think he thought that I broke it, when I was just trying to help..."

Snape simply stared at Harry, wondering how someone so... him, could live so long.

"Not only that," Harry went on, "There are these little things on some of the windows. Emmercee exiteets... or... what was it, Hermione?"

Harry turned, looking for Hermione, who had her head buried in her arms. The bit of her face he could see was bright, bright red. He wasn't sure if she was laughing or crying. Glancing up at Snape, Harry lifted his pointer finger on his right hand to indicate 'one minute', and went over to Hermione. He brought his head close down to hers, and softly spoke her name, while at the same time, he gently poked her with a finger in her shoulder.

There was a flurry of movement. A mass shift of frizzy brown hair, a thump, followed by a chorus of "owwww"s, and ended with two people holding different areas of their heads with their hand, dancing around the room.

"WHAT?!" Hermione screeched, making the entire class, teacher included, flinch, and instinctively everyone backed away from the startled and angry witch, and away from Potter, the person who was surely the target of her anger and annoyance.

"What were those thingies on the bus called?" Harry asked sheepishly. "The things on the windows?"

"You mean the emergency exits?" She asked waspishly.

"Yea those!" Harry answered brightly, immediately turning his back on her and turning back to Snape. "The emergency exits. I wanted to make sure they worked too."

"Let me guess." Snape said, "They worked."

"Yup," Harry said brightly. "That really made the driver mad. I told him I was just doing safety checks, he didn't care, kicked all of us off the bus."

"What else happened?" Snape asked. "I take it you were arrested for the mall and bus incidents?" With a nod of assent from Harry, Snape continued, "Some places in America have a three-strikes law, you were in one of them. What was the third offense you committed to get yourself and your classmates deported from the US?"

Harry suddenly looked bashful, and unwilling to reply. Although since it was Snape asking, he knew he had to answer.

"There wasn't a third." He said grumpily, "Flitwick and Sprout decided as a matter of 'national security', I should only get two strikes."

Here, the bell rang. Harry quickly gathered his bag and left the room, apparently the only one who realized that class was over, as the rest of the class was too busy laughing at the 'Boy-Who-Was-Now-A-National-Threat'.