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  Chapter Eleven: The New Penz             Si was never one to criticize the conditions of another’s mode of transportation, especially someone as unfortunate as Amos Crook – who could hardly afford a proper house, but sitting in the rickety Studebaker pickup truck he loaned Skeeta to drive to Malfoy Manor had taken its toll on her backside.             Skeeta occasionally noticed how she squirmed on her side of the conjoined car seat that squeaked constantly while the vehicle was in motion. “What’s the matter?” he asked Si.             “Somethin’s been pokin’ my butt since we left – I think it’s one of the springs in the seat,” Si griped. “As much as I hate to say it, Mr. Crook’s car is slower than molasses.”             “Candace,” Skeeta scolded her in tha...

  Chapter Ten: The Interrogation of Bubba Joe             “So…it’s Doctor who exactly?” Joyce brought herself to ask as she, Hopp, Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve followed the Doctor through the woods. The night atmosphere was almost unbearable – humid, flies buzzing everywhere, and dark. The light of the full moon, in addition to the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver device, allowed them to see the path ahead.             “Yeah, I was wonderin’ the same thing,” Jim followed up on Joyce’s inquiry. “Where exactly are you from, Doc?”             “And how do you know Si?” Steve inquired, holding back his jealousy.             “Oh, there are many ways that I know her,” the Doctor answered Steve, singling out Joyce and Jim’s questions. “Once I met her when I had white hair...

  Chapter Nine: The Bubba Joe Plan             The Time War began to feel more appeasing to Penz. The hillbillies Lucius Malfoy hired to keep all the black men working in the catacombs were as ruthless as the Daleks back in the war. There were very few breaks (water only, no food) and not a single day given to rest. Penz could take it for as long as he could manage – his Time Lord biology allotted him a level of endurance extended past typical human limitations. But that’s not to say he was without his own.             Still in his original incarnation, Penz had yet to experience the blessing (or curse, depending how one looks at it) of regeneration. In his default form, his body – that of what Earth humans would perceive as a 33-year-old African American male – was virtually made out of stone. Even the most fit among the slaves he worked with questioned where he got su...