FicWad

Disclaimer: Never, /ever/, let a blind man drive drunk! Although, I imagine they suffer less impairment to their driving ability compared with normal than someone who isn't blind. "Achy Breaky Heart"(shudders) lyrics belong to Billy Ray Cyrus (I think)





Chapter 14: Vocabulary Lessons

"No, no, no!" the bossy brunette was saying to her cousin. "You're doing it wrong."

Harry's friends were practicing wandwork for Transfiguration class. While Matt was noticeably better with wandwork than before, he still wasn't anywhere near the top.

They were supposed to be turning a teacup into a saucer. Why anyone would want to turn a teacup into a saucer was beyond Harry. He watched as Matt tried again. The result looked vaguely like a candlestick holder.

"Have you ever thought of trying finesse?" asked an exasperated Hermione as she reversed the...taucer...to it's original state. It was the first Saturday of the school year, and Harry, Hermione, Matt, and Ron were in one corner of the Gryffindor common room.

"Nope. Personally I prefer BFFI," Matt quipped back. It was nearly supper time, and Matt was the only one of the group that had yet to get it right. Luna had been with them earlier, but shortly after she succeeded she had traipsed off, saying something about an infestation of pirklins.

"What's BFFI?" asked Ron. He had succeeded over an hour ago.

"Brute Force and Fuckin' Ignorance," Harry supplied. "I thought you preferred BMFH's?"

"Nah, not in this situation," Matt replied as Lucy, seated a few feet behind him suddenly blushed. "That comes later."

Ron was puzzled again. "What's--"

"Big MotherFucking Hammer," Hermione replied.

Ron gaped at her.

"What? It's not like it's the first time I've ever said 'fuck,' and it's certainly not the last."

"But...but..."

"Geez, Ron, why do you have to be such a chauvenistic pig?" Ginny quipped from beside Lucy.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth," Ron said weakly, trying to make a joke of it.

"Where do you think I learned those words? Dad?That's rich. Dad's the picture of a proper gentleman most of the time, and when he does slip, he never says anything truly bad," Hermione said. Harry knew this to be true. He remembered thinking that Clive must have been really pissed off when he called the Jaguar crap. Candace, on the other hand, had repetoire of foul language that could make a drunken sailor blush.

"Tada!" Matt exclaimed. While everyone had been focused on Hermione and Ron, Matt had successfully transfigured his teacup into a saucer. "And for my next trick..." He set the saucer on his palm and held it at arm's length. With the saucer in his right hand and the fingertips of his left hand held to his temple, he stared intently at the saucer.

A minute passed and nothing had happened. Ron seemed about to say something when the saucer suddeny shattered. Not just shattered, but exploded.

"H-How the bloody hell did you do that?!" Ron nearly shouted.

"Simple. I forced my magic into it and focused on the image of it exploding," Matt said.

"That's...that's..."

"Amazing?" Harry suggested to the redhead.

"That wasn't what I was going to say, but it'll work."

------

Later that evening Matt, Harry, Hermione, Lucy and Ron were in Blackstaff's study, Matt having convinced them to at least try to get to know Lucy better. He didn't understand why they seemed so reluctant to get to know her, but he was determined to put a stop to that. Besides, he felt more comfortable with Harry and Hermione in the room with him.

"So I guess the most obvious question is how you ended up...what's the word I'm looking for?" asked Hermione after five awkward minutes of silence.

"Not an evil bitch," Ron supplied.

"Thank you, Ronald, I was trying to find a nice way to say it, but I guess that's exactly what I was thinking," Hermione responded.

"Always glad to help," he responded as if he hadn't heard anything after 'thank you.'

"So anyway, how did you end up, as Ron said, not evil?" Hermione asked.

"Well, for the most part I was raised by one of the house elves, Dobby. Until this spring, that is. Fa--Lucius, got carried away with punishing him and killed him," Lucy said, a tear running down her cheek. "After that, Moth--Narcissa, took over caring for me, not that she was any good at it."

"You mean your parents didn't have anything to do with raising you?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"No, that's not what I said," Lucy replied."They just didn't do much. A lecture here on why purebloods are better than everyone else, a lesson there on how to be a proper lady..." she trailed off.

"So...anybody got any gum?" Ron asked into the uneasy silence.

"Sure, I got some right here in my fanny-pack," Matt said, reaching into a bag attached to his belt. "What?" he asked, noticing the looks he got from Ron and Lucy as he pulled out two penknives, aSwiss Army Knife, a set of brass knuckles, a saltshaker filled with toothpicks, three cannisters mace/teargas, and tiny double barrelled pistol--a derringer, one loaded with .357 magnum amunition.

"I told you not to call it that," Hermione said tiredly, thought there was a confused look on her face.

"But you never explained why," Matt countered.

Do you know what fanny means?Lucy sent.

It means butt--although I have a feeling your going to say something else, aren't you? Matt returned.

It er...it means...er...it-it means ...vagina, she sent. Matt could feel himself blushing.

Matt coughed. "Never mind. But what am I supposed to call it?"

"How about you just don't carry it around?" Hermione asked reasonably.

"It holds my emergency supplies," he said, digging into the other pocket of the pack, pulling out another pistol--this one a full size Glock 17--an extra Bowie knife, a hatchet, several dehydrated meals and canned meats, and--finally--a large pack of Big Red gum. "Knew I'd find it somewhere," he said handing Ron a stick and offering everyone else in the room some as well.

"Why can't you just keep the stuff in your bag?" Hermione said in a reasonable tone of voice, giving Harry a look that seemed to be pleading him to try and talk some sense into his friend. Unfortunately, Harry was determined to stay out of this argument, or so it seemed.

"Backpacks can be taken away or lost. You didn't even know I had this with me until I mentioned it," Matt said.

"How did you do that, anyway?" Harry asked, curious.

Matt reached into the first compartment again. "With this," he said, withdrawing a faceted stone about the size of a golfball. It was jet black--probably onyx--and apeared to have a small gold rune on each of the facets.

"What is that?" Hermione asked.

"A S.E.P. generator," Matt said. "It hides an object from notice unless attention is drawn to it by the controller of the generator. Powerful mind magic. You'll forget about this conversation and my pack within five minutes after the subject is changed."

"S.E.P.?" Hermione asked, thirsty as ever for knowledge.

"Somebody Else's Problem. Kinda like in Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy," Matt said as he put everything away.

As Matt picked up the pistol Hermione asked, "Why do you have the guns? Don't you know that they're illegal in this country?"

"Who's gonna tell? You? Besides they're last resort only. After last year, I'm not taking any chances," Matt said. "In case you forgot, I discovered a dark wizard teaching Defense, and I'm quite certain he would have killed to keep his secret if possible. As Harry's dad has said so many times, there is no magic that can protect against bullets."

"But how did you even get them past customs?" Hermione persisted.

"The pack. I could fill it with all the utensils from the Great Hall and walk right through a metal detector without setting it off," Matt said. "But we're not her to discuss my paranoia, or any law breaking I may have done. We came here to get to know Lucy better."

They spent an hour talking, getting to know Lucy, Lucy getting to know them. Matt couldn't contain a grin when she said she was a cat lover. Luckily she seemed to have missed it, Matt supposed.

As they walked back to Gryffindor tower in silence, Matt thought over the past few days, especially the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. He was reconsidering his comparison of Lockhart to Gene Simmons. While Simmons was at least good at what he was famous for, Lockhart was completely inept. Matt had already decided that this year in Defense was awaste.

At least I have plenty of bullets, if it comes to that, Matt thought, although the thought was not as comforting as it should have been.

------

The next day, Sunday, Harry and his friends were out on the grounds practicing with their blades. On paper, they were fairly evenly matched, despite their differences. Hermione had the advantage of reach, with her being the tallest--meaning she also had longer arms--and also wielding a machete, which was almost two feet long, or an estoc--a type of rapier designed for actual combat, rather than fencing. However, she hadn't had much practice, so Harry and Matt had to hold a little back when practicing with her, but--ever the quick study--she was quickly catching up.

Matt was obviously much stronger, though he also was ambidextrous, which allowed him to use a second knife in his left hand, if he so chose. He also had a bastard sword that he'd received from Harry's parents and Sirius for his birthday, but he seemed to be more comfortable with the pair of bowie knives he kept strapped across his chest.

Harry had the advantage of speed and instinct, which allowed him to use his single knife to great advantage. He also had a simple longsword, but he only used that when Matt pulled out his bastard sword.

Harry and Matt had spent much of the summer practicing with their knives, and, on occasion, their swords. In fact, on the day that they came accross the drunken teens they had been looking for a secluded place for a practice duel of the martial--rather than magical--variety.

While they tried to pull back at the last second if it looked like they were going to land a blow, both Harry and Matt knew spells for closing cuts--albeit crude versions that would still leave scars--so they weren't worried about any of them bleeding out if they were nicked.

Currently Harry and Matt were preparing to duel with their swords, both holding their respective weapons in two handed grips. Matt's bastard sword had aslight advantage in reach, but his strikes were slower, given the added weight.

Harry and Matt circled eachother, each waiting for the other to strike first. Suddenly Matt charged, bringing his sword down in a left to right overhead chop. It was a sloppy move, which Harry blocked in an equally sloppy manner, his hands going numb from the force of the impact, and he nearly dropped his own sword.

Harry knew that while most of the force from that blow came from Matt's strength, a not inconsiderable amount came from the weight of the bastard sword, which fell between a longsword and great sword in size and weight. Harry himself would not be able to swing it, being almost fifteen pounds lighter than Matt--despite being just over three inches taller.

Harry returned Matt's chop with a left to right upward slash, which Matt almost parried, ending up with a small nick on the back of his left wrist. after a slight pause to patch it up, they resumed, this time Matt putting all his strength into a horizontal sweep at Harry's chest, which Harry jumped back from, bringing his longsword around for a left to right downward slash which missed, having not taken into account Matt's sideways stagger when he tried to reign in the momentum of his sword, which he immediately brought back and caught Harry off guard and nearly severed the last two fingers on Harry's left hand, though they were only just attached.

"Practice over!" shouted Matt, grabbing Harry and leading him to the castle. "Hold your hand over your head, Harry," Matt instructed. Harry did as he was told.

"Hermione, could you get the swords?" Matt called over his shoulder to his cousin. Thanks," he added without looking.

Less than five minutes later they had reached the hospital wing. "What have you gotten yourself into, Mr. Potter?" Madame Pomfrey asked. "You didn't go stumbling into one of the more dangerous greenhouses, by any chance, did you?"

"No, ma'am," Matt answered as she started tending to Harry."We were having a practice duel--"

"That doesn't explain how this happened, Mr. Robertson. You shouldn't know any spells that would do anything like this yet," the impatiant healer interjected.

"Not a magical duel," Harry said through gritted teeth. "With our swords."

"What were you thinking?! One unlucky blow and you've killed your best friend--or at the very least cut off an arm or leg!" she nearly screamed."This is why the practice of carrying swords and the like fell out of practice, too many people hacking their friends limbs off!"

"Can I get a little help here?" Harry grunted plaintively. What he wanted to say was /Hurry up you gods-damned mothererfucking ditzy bitch/, but he didn't think it was a good idea.

"I knew this would happen last year after you started carrying those," she pointed at Matt's Bowie knives. "I told Dumbledore he needed to do something about it, but did he take my advice? No! Now you've gone and disfigured your friend--"

"Hello-o-o, bleeding out over here!" Harry shouted through gritted teeth. His arm was getting tired, but he knew if he let it down, he'd bleed even more profusely than he already was. He looked down at his right hand and suddenly it exploded in pain as he noticed a nasty gash on it as well. He tried not to think of what his left hand must look like. He was partially successful, and therefore only partially nauseated.

"What?" the healer asked, seemingly having forgotten her patient."Oh, right," she waved her wand in a complicated manner, and Harry's fingers reattached themselves, though he still couldn't move them. She rushed off to retrieve some potions. She still hadn't done anything for his right hand.

When she returned with the potions, Harry held up his right hand--careful to keep the cut out of his sight--and she healed it without comment.

She handed Harry an opaque crimson potion first. "This will restore the blood you've lost, as well as repair any damage to soft tissues. This," she handed him a small phial--really just a shotglass--of a vile looking green potion," will repair any damage to bones, tendons, and ligaments," Harry drank it and nearly spat it back out immediately, but grimaced and swallowed it anyway.

"Serves you right," the peeved healer scolded on seeing his expression. "If it had simply been broken bones you wouldn't have to take that, but ligaments and tendons have to be repaired a bit more slowly. You'll have to spend the night. I'd suggest you to forget that silly sword swinging nonsense, but I doubt you'd listen to me if I did."

"Sorry," Matt muttered as the healer walked away.

"Accidents happen," Harry said, brushing the apology aside.

Just as Matt was getting ready to leave, the Healer returned carrying a pair of odd looking belts with large, almost decorative looking buckles. "Mr. Robertson, Mr. Potter, since you insist on playing knights, take these," she handed them each one of the belts. Harry felt they looked like something Garth Brooks would wear, and was repulsed by the thought. "They're Swordsman's Belts. They're used for practice duelling. They'll protect you from hurting eachother and also keep score. They're not cheap, but I'll get Dumbledore to send the bill to your parents, since they should have thought about them before now."

As the healer walked off, now slightly less perturbed, Matt muttered,"Where's the matching cowboy hat?" causing Harry to laugh.

Before Matt left the infirmary, he went to Madame Pomfrey and got another belt for Hermione.

------

September became October, and there were no more mishaps with from their duels. The Swordsman's Belts protected them, though when they registered a hit that would have taken a limb, that limb went numb and limp, and when they registered a 'death blow,' the belt caused them to fall like a puppet with it's strings cut.

Matt had obtained a Stetson cowboy hat, but after one duel with Hermione, where he sang the chorus of "Achy Breaky Heart," while going all out with his Bowie knives against her estoc, he was forbidden to ever wear it during a duel again. She cracked up and didn't even flinch--much less parry--the slash that would have slit her throat without the intervention of the Belts.

"No fair," she said, wheezing.

"No kidding," Matt said, turning green, as if he just realized what he'd done. "I wouldn't even wish that on Malfoy. Lockhart, maybe, but that's about it."

"I don't know, Matt," Harry said. "I think Malfoy would deserve it."

"Maybe your right," Matt said reluctantly, though Harry could tell that he was much less reluctant than he sounded.

October passed quickly. On the eve of All Hallows Eve, Hermione received apackage, but she refused to show Harry or Matt what it was.

The next morning, Harry and Matt met Hermione for the wake-up call. Matt handed Hermione the agreed upon disc, Cannibal Corpse's "Houses of the Haunted," which she quickly put in the player and activated. The only one in the castle who had listened to the album was Matt.

The minute it started, Harry wondered why they had let Matt convince them to play it without listening to it first.

"Nice going, asshole!" Harry yelled over the music at Matt."Breakfast is going to be completely inedible, today!"

"Way ahead of you," Matt replied, tossing him a protein bar and ameal replacement shake, then turning to Hermione and doing the same for her. He had two of each left. Ten minutes later, when Lucy came down, he handed her one of each, then together they headed to the Great Hall to see if there was anything viable on the tables before resorting to the provisions.

As it turned out, there was a single pitcher of orange juice on the Gryffindor table, and every thing else was just omelet, containing all the usual breakfast items--bacon, sausage, egg, kippers, mashed potatoes, marmalade, cereal, pancake batter, maple syrup, grapefruit and orange halves, and other assorted fruits.

Matt poured himself a goblet of orange juice and unwrapped the protein bar."Good thing I had these provisions, wouldn't you say?" he asked conversationally as he began eating. Harry rolled his eyes and saw Hermione pantomime strangling Matt.

By the time the Hall was half-full, the album had ended. Shortly after that, the 'omelets' disappeared and were replaced with edible food. Hermione slipped Matt his CD, and put in something Harry couldn't see. She muttered something under her breath, then Harry heard her tapping the player and all across the hall people were either grabbing their ears--which they had just released--or trying to sing in what Harry could only assume was an off key manner. He was puzzled for a few minutes...and then he heard it. No. There's no way she could be that evil...

But she was. By now half of the students in the hall were singing along.

Don't tell my heart, my achy breaky heart,
I just don't think he'd understand.
'Cause if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart,
He might blow up and kill this man.

"You are one sick, sadistic bitch, you know that?" Harry said to Hermione, struggling to hold in a laugh.

"Why thank you for noticing, Harry," Hermione replied brightly."But it's only just begun."

Harry quirked an eyebrow at her, but she said no more.

------

Apparently, Hermione had set her CD player to repeat the song over and over and over, to everyone but Harry, Matt, Lucy and Hermione herself. By the end of classes students were begging whatever higher powers they believed in to just make it stop. Matt, upon hearing a story of Snape's vindictiveness, was glad that the Gryffindor second years didn't have Potions on that particular day.

Harry, unlike Matt was quite looking forward to the Halloween feast. Rumors had been swirling that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons. As the feast was winding down, Dumbledore brought out the entertainment for the night, and, sure enough, several reanimated cadaver skeletons clattered up to the front of the Hall. Harry, having hoped that the rumors were true, had borrowed Dean's copy of "Thriller," which Hermione started as the skeletons prepared to dance. Matt took this as his cue to leave. He noted that the skeletons were doing the routine from the video, and then he was out the door.

He was just passing a bathroom on the first floor when he decided to look out the window. /Quite an amazing view, even from here/, Matt thought to himself.

He wasn't sure how long he had been staring out the window when he heard the door benhind him open. There was silence for a few minutes, then he heard afaint rustling. He looked up.

He saw a pair of gigantic glowing yellow eyes. He felt his body go rigid. Son of a bitch! he thought as fell backwards. As his head hit the stone floor he was vaguely aware of the puddle of water and the sound of something else, something much smaller, splashing down next to him. Then the blackness rose up to claim him and he knew no more.

------

Lucy had been enjoying the show when, all of a sudden, in her head she heard,Son of a bitch!

By now used to Matt's proclivity towards foul language, she didn't even bat an eyelash at the epithet, but she did send back, Are you okay?

She waited for a minute, then tried again. When she still didn't get an answer, she turned to Harry and said, "Something's happened to Matt."

Harry turned to her and opened his mouth to say something--either to ask her how she knew or to tell her she was crazy--then shut it, face screwed up in concern, apparently having seen something in her face.

"Let's go," he said to Hermione and Ron, who had heard Lucy's pronouncement. The four got up to go look for Matt.

They got as far as the hallway outside the first floor girls' bathroom when they came to a dead stop. All four uttered expressions of surprise.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Harry.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Oh, my," gasped Lucy.

"Holy shit!" exclaimed Ron.

"Is that...?" asked Hermione.

"'fraid so," murmurred Harry.

Lucy fainted.

"HOLY SHIT!" exclaimed Ron, his gaze going from the scene before them to Lucy, and back again.

------

A/N: And so the chapter ends. No, Matt isn't dead. Just petrified. I figure most of you would realize that on your own, but I also knew if I didn't say that people would yell at me for writing a cliffhanger. So maybe it is alittle one, but it's not exactly one that is impossible to figure out. I could have continued on, but I had reached my target length, and I'm not sure how much longer continuing on would make the chapter--though I wouldn't be surprised if the first scene of the next chapter--which would have been at the end of this chapter--topped 1000 words. Plus, I figured my loyal readers (and there are still some of you out there) would appreciate a new chapter being posted.

I was boning up for (hopefully) a return of World of Darkness play with my world of Darkness group, and it shows, a little, towards the middle.

I'm not sure if "Achey Breaky Heart" would have been released by this time or not. All I remember about it was that I was in Kindergarten when it came out. For me, Kindergarten was '92-'93. I typed out the lyrics to the chorus from memory. No, I was never a fan of Country music, I just happen to remember riding the bus home from school, approximately 22 kindergarteners singing the chorus over and over again, ad nauseam. I'm embarrassed to say I joined in most of the time.

For those Americans reading this that thought I was making up the bit obout FANNY meaning the female reproductive organs in Britain, I swear I'm not. For those British people reading this, quit giggling. It's unbecoming.

While i'm on the subject of fanny packs, I'll go ahead and explain, for those who don't get it, that the second pocket Matt dug through was like Hermione's bag in DH.

Finally...

Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Just type them up in a review and I'll get to them when i get to them. You just got to have a little patience.