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@Cho17
du hast es erfasst. Es wird doch in den Büchern eindeutich oft genug gesagt, dass James und Sirius besonders Spaß an solchen Sachen hatten, wenn es gefährlich für sie ist. Erst später, als Lilly dann schwanger war denke ich mal, dass James vorsichtiger geworden ist
@ ♥ Herm!ne ♥
die geschichte spielt drei jahre vor harrys geburt, das hat JKR doch mal gesagt. das heißt, es ist schon krieg und den phönixorden gibt es auch. außerdem glaube ich nicht, dass sirius das motorrad schon während seiner schulzeit hatte. und sie nennen sich ja auch nach ihrer schulzeit noch rumtreiber....
@Gil-Galad: Die Geschichte spielt aber, als Sirius und James noch jung sind(würd ich mal sagen), denn ab da, wo James mit Lilly zusammen ist und James dann ja auch selber im Orden war, würde er doch nicht mehr solche Ausflüge mit Sirius machen. Ich glaube eher, dass es zu der Zeit spielt, wo die beiden noch zur Schule gehen, in den Sommerferien oder so. Schließlich soll es ja eine Geschichte von den "Rumtreibern" sein....
Jedenfalls gibt es den Phönixorden doch da noch gar nicht oder? Irgendwie ergibt das dann keinen Sinn und diese Stelle verstehe ich auch nicht so ganz.
@♥ Herm!ne ♥: Vermutlich Mitglieder des Phönixordens.
Ich habe keinerlei Probleme mit der Handschrift, liegt wohl daran, das meine in eine ähnlich, ähm, unorthodoxe Lesbarkeitsnische tendiert, aber nunja, egal... Wenn ich ihre Sätze Lese, dann habe ich das Gefühl das etwas an ihrer Art des Formulierens nahezu magisch anzieht, in den Bann zieht. Dies geht natürlich leider in der Übersetzung verloren. (Trotzdem vielen Dank an die oder den ÜbersetzerIn, und er|sie möge sie damit trösten, das auch der professionelle (und hervorragende) Übersetzer Klaus Fritz, die Frische und den Geist, den besonderen Sprachwitz (\"Sirius Black\" - \"seriously black\") Rowlings nicht zu 100% ins Deutsche zu übertragen vermag!)
Ich für meinen Teil jedenfalls kann es nicht erwarten, eine Neu-Veröffentlichung von Joanne Rowling in die Finger zu bekommen. Sie kann fabelhaft erzählen, und ich finde das auch grade diese kurze Form ihren literarischen Genius hervorragend zum Vorschein bringt. Einfach FAMOS!!!
montagsfrei
unregistriert
The Story:
The speeding motorcycle took the sharp corner so fast in the darkness that both policemen in the pursuing car shouted,"Whoa!" Sergeant Fisher slammed his large foot on the brake, thinking that the boy who was riding pillion was sure to be flung under his wheels; however, the motorbike made the turn without seating either of its riders, and with a wink of its red tail lights, vanished up the narrow side street.
"We've got 'em now!" cried PC Anderson excitedly. "That's a dead end!"
Leaning hard on the steering wheel and crashing his gears, Fisher scraped half the paint off the flank of the car as he forced it up the alleyway in pursuit.
There in the headlights sat their quarry, stationary at last after a quarter of an hour's chase. The two riders were trapped between a towering brickwall and the police car, which was now crawling towards them like some growling luminous-eyes predator.
There was so little space betwen the car doors and the walls of the alley that Fisher and Anderson had difficulty extricating themselves from the vehicle. It injured their dignity to have to inch,crab-like,towards the miscreants. Fisher dragged his generous belly along the wall,tearing buttons off his shirt as he went, and finally snapping off the wing mirror with his backside.
"Get off the bike!" he bellowed at the smirking youths, who sat basking in the flashing blue light as though enjoying it.
They did as they were told, finally pulling free from the broken wing mirror, Fisher glared at them. They seemed to be in their late teens. The one who had been driving had long black hair, his insolent good looks reminded Fisher unpleasantly of his daughter's guitar-playing, layabout boyfriend. The second boy also had black hair, though his was short and stuck up in all directions; he wore glasses and a broad grin. Both were dressed in t-shirts emblazoned with a large golden bird; the emblem, no doubt, of some deafening, timeless rock band.
"No helmet!" Fisher yelled, pointing from one uncovered head to the other. "Exceeding the speed limit by-by a considerable amount!" (In fact, the speed registered had been greater than Fisher was prepared to accept that any motocycle could travel.) "Failure to stop for the police!"
"We'd have loved to stop for a chat," said the boy in glasses,"only we were trying--"
"Don't get smart-you two are in a heap of trouble!" snarled Anderson. "Names!"
"Names?" repeated the long-haired driver."Er-Well, let's see. There's Wilberforce...Bathsheba...Elvendork..."
"And what's nice about that one is, you can use it for a boy OR a girl," said the boy in glasses.
"Oh, our names, did you mean?" asked the first, as Anderson spluttered with rage."You should've said! This here is James Potter, and I'm Sirius Black!"
"Things'll be seriously black for you in a minute, you cheek little-"
But neither James nor Sirius was paying attention. They were suddenly as alert as gundogs, staying past Fisher and Anderson, over the roof of the police car, at the dark mouth of the alley. Then, with identical, fluid movemoments, they reached into their back pockets.
For the space of a heartbeat both policemen imagined guns gleaming at them, but a second later they saw that the motocyclists had drawn nothing more than-
"Drumsticks?" jeered Anderson. "Right pair of jokers, aren't you? Right, we're arresting you on a charge of--"
But Anderson never got to name the charge. James and Sirius had shouted something incomprehensible, and the beams from the headlights had moved.
The policemen wheeld around, then staggered backwards. Three men were flying-actually flying- up the alley on broomsticks-and at the same moment,the police car was rearing up on its back wheels.
Fisher's knee bucked; as he sat down hard; Anderson tripped over Fisher's legs and fell on top of him, as flump-bang-crunch- they heard the mean on brooms slam into the suspended car and fall, apparently insensible, to the ground, while broken bits of broomstick clattered down around them.
The motorbike had roared into life again. His mouth hanging open, Fisher mustered the strength to look back at the two teenagers.
"Thanks very much!" called Sirius over the throb of the engine."We owe you one!"
"Yeah, nice meeting you!" said James. "And don't forget: Elvendork! It's unisex!"
There was an earth-shaking crash, and Fisher and Anderson threw their arms around each other in fright; their car had just fallen back to the ground. Now it was the motocycle's turn to rear. Before the policemen's disbelieving eyes, it took off into thin air: James and Sirius zoomed away into the night sky, their tail light twinkling behind them like a vanishing ruby.
Am gestrigen Abend wurde im Londoner Buchladen Waterstone's neben den selbst kreierten Postkarten von 12 Autoren auch die von Joanne K. Rowling versteigert. Diese Postkarte beinhaltet eine 800 Wörter lange Kurzgeschichte über die Rumtreiber (wir berichteten).
es wär aber so cool, mal geschichten aus der sicht von anderen bekannten personen aus der hp welt zu lesen!!! 
Kurzgeschichte bringt 25.000 Pfund (UPDATE)
