Terry Boot and the Masochist's Boulder

CRASH. The door fell apart and Grudley squealed as Nonny clutched at the garlic chains around her neck. She had been misguided to believe that all Pier-1 employees were vampires, and was ready with a whole bag of crucifixes in her bony little hand.

"Back you foul creature of the underworld!" she yelled stupidly, waving her cross violently in front of her.

Suddenly a giant man stepped through the doorway, eyes bulging and breath reeking of whiskey and other foul odors. His face was a mess of tangled hair and red course skin which looked wind burned. The long mole coat he wore suggested that he had spent not a few nights on the streets, and the pink umbrella served as a hint of better days.

"He doesn't look like a vampire- er, Pier-1 employee," Nonny said, chucking a piece of garlic at the tall lump of a man, who immediately swallowed the smelly ball whole. When you're drunk, you get a terrible hunger. He belched and poured a can of cheap booze over the door, lighting it afire, and roasting a skewered pheasant over it.

"I need more whiskey," he said, pointing at Diddle and stroking his beard. "It's not been an easy journey; riding in a cab really takes it out of ya." He pointed at Grudley with the pink umbrella, and with another loud belch, turned him into a can of potent moonshine.

"Look what you've done to our child!" shouted Nonny.

"Wha?" asked Hagrid stupidly, fixing to take a sip of that pig-er, moonshine.

"Turn him back at once! Wouldn't you rather turn Terry into some booze?" asked Diddle, pleadingly.

"Terry?" asked Hagrid, weaving a bit. Simple words confused him at times like these.

"Are you here to steal our souls...I mean to collect our dues?" Nonny asked, fingering her Pier-1 wind breaker jacket. "Because if you are..."

"Ah!" the man boomed, grasping Terry and shaking him good naturedly. "Here's Harry!" Terry looked up into the greasy man's abomination of a face and nearly fainted from the stench.

"Well, really my name's Te-"

"Las' time I saw ya, ya had two legs," said the wavering giant. "Yeh look nothing like yer dad or yer dad or, I mean, yer dad. Yer mum. That'll do ya good. They had both of all their appendages, as I remember, or maybe that was my bottle. Yeah, my bottle had all of yer parent's appendages."

Nonny, who was turning red in the face stalked over to the giant, holding out a bedazzled crucifix.

"We could always exchange Harry here for our bills," she said hopefully. "Seeing how you have taken such a liking to him."

"My name isn't Harry! It's Ter-"

"Anyway Harry," the giant continued, "let me be the first to wish yah a very happy birthday."

Diddle stepped forward, biting his lump of a lip. "I don't like hearing Harry's name here and the word 'happy' in the same sentence," he barked, laying down the law. The giant rolled his bulging eyes and kicked the old man in the shins. Nonny pulled him to her and muttered something about covering his jugular.

"Just let the man do what he has to," she hissed at Diddle, while batting her eyelashes, and sashaying her hips in a "hey baby" fashion, right before her teeth fell out.

Terry, who was now beyond confused, let out a high pitched screech. "My name is not Harry!" he yelled.

"Keep it quiet over there Barry," Nonny said, turning to face the giant. "We are busy negotiating with the undead. Now about that lampshade-"

"Barry?" the giant questioned, rubbing his head. "I thought his name was Jerry. No, not Jerry. I meant, Larry. That's right, Dumbledore sent me to get Jerry...no wait...Harry?"

"Harry, Barry... what's the difference, I mean just look at that stump," Diddle said, rubbing his bleeding shin, trying not to let the blood look appetizing.

"My name is-"

"I said SHUT IT, Larry!" Nonny bellowed. "One more word out of you and-"

"Larry?" the giant asked.

"Oh yes, I meant Harry, now about sucking our blood-"

"My name isn't Harry!"

"That's it Garry, to the shower with you!" Nonny said, grasping the boy by the scruff of his neck.

"Hey now," the giant said, "I came here to find a Mr. Harry Potter, not a Barry, a Larry, or a Garry. It's rather important I don't screw this up again. Mr. Larry Trotter over in London wasn't too happy when I paid him a visit, and neither was the ministry. And let's not even talk about Barry Motter."

"Wait..." Nonny said, realization dawning on her wrinkled face. "You aren't from Pier-1?"

The giant smirked, and then scoffed for good measure. He usually had to add an extra scoff in there, as his smirking was nearly invisible to the naked eye under all of the matted hair. The last time he had forgotten to add the scoff in he had been expelled.

"Of course not, I am here to save Harry from his abusive relatives, even though Dumbledore will send him back to them every summer. He's kind of got Alzheimer's, poor man."

"Well," Terry began, "I may not be Harry Potter, but I do have abusive relatives."

The giant looked confused.

"Do ya have a scar?"

"I have a stump," Terry said excitedly. For the first time in his life he wasn't ashamed to have a missing leg. It was his ticket out of here, and by here, he meant the hut on the rock.

The large man mused this over for a second.

"Sorry Garry, no scar, no story, no service." He walked towards the flaming door again and shoved the smoldering pheasant into one of his over large pockets.

"But wait!" Terry screamed, hobbling over to the giant. "What about the abuse?"

The large man rolled his eyes, motioning to Terry's stump.

"I would care... if I did," he said quickly. Just then, in a puff of smoke and blinding white light, a dark clad man apparated onto the scene. He was tall and slender, his skin a deathly pale tone, grease was oozing from his pores, and puddling on the floor. He glared at the inhabitants of the room and let out a long growl.

"THE VAMPIRE!" Nonny screamed, chucking a few strands of garlic at the man.

Yet, despite the greasiness of the man's attire, it wasn't a vampire at all. It was Professor Severus Snape, smirking for all he was worth, which wasn't a lot, but you get my meaning (or do you?).

"Hagrid, you drunken old fool!" the man hissed, halting the garlic balls in mid air with a flick of his wand. "You have failed yet again."

Hagrid slouched against the door frame and picked his teeth with the bone of a new born fawn. "I have here the directions to Harry Potter's whereabouts, now go immediately and I, sadly, shall take care of another one of Albus' foul messes." He seemed to motion to Terry's stump at the last part. "I suggest you leave immediately, before I'm forced to use real magic on you. In case you don't know what real magic is, it doesn't involve booze or prostitutes, so you will be quite ill equipped to fight back."

Hagrid nodded and fled the scene.

"Now Terry," Snape began, spitting the name out as if it burned his tongue. "Because of your mere existence I had to leave the warmth of my chambers and trek all around the greater half of England to find you. I think that is fair grounds for loathing you for the rest of your years at Hogwarts, if I remember to do so later." Terry nodded in agreement, bewildered that someone had finally gotten his name right. In fact, his name had been forgotten and mispronounced for so long, that even he was beginning to think his name was Jerry Toot.

Nonny, realizing that Snape wasn't a vampire at all, crossed the room and stepped between him and Terry.

"There will be no loathing of Terry," she snapped. "We don't want him to think he is anything special."

Snape thought it over and then nodded curtly. "Perhaps you are right. Now I have been sent here to, er, collect Terry and take him to get his school supplies. I would go into how his parents were mauled to death by the evil Polar-Bear-Who-Could-Be-Named-But-Isn't, but then I'd either lose my lunch or interest. Either way the bile would be rising in my throat."

Terry's mouth gaped open and he began to sob. "You mean my parents were mauled to death by-"

"Will you shut up for a moment, you idiot boy?" Snape snapped at him. "I have to send a letter off to Dumbledore posthaste."

"Dumbledore?" Terry asked, confused that all of these people were suddenly involved in his life. It had always just been him, his grandparents, and that disgusting pig of theirs.

"Terry!" Snape warned, as he quickly scrawled:

Albus-

I found the idiot, just before Terry and his family were asphyxiated by his stench.

I'll wrap this up for you, and be back to Hogwarts shortly.

The boy is deformed, by the by. I hope you're conscious.

-Severus Snape

"There we go," Snape said, attaching the letter to an owl that just happened to be there all of a sudden.

"Who is Dumbledore?" Terry pressed Snape for answers, as Diddle and Nonny tried to figure out if they should still stake Snape or not.

"Um, excuse me, creature of the night?" Diddle offered. "Could you turn our child back into what he used to be?"

"It's too magical. I can't fix it," Snape said bluntly.

"You mean he'll always be like this?" Nonny said, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"I'm afraid so," Snape said, sounding disinterested. "But really, you should be used to him by now, after eleven years and all."

That's when Diddle and Nonny started laughing.

"We didn't mean Stumpy!" Diddle chortled, motioning to Terry. "We meant our prize pig, Grudley."

"Which is now a bottle of moonshine, thanks to that disgusting oaf," Nonny said with a sneer.

Inwardly, Snape liked their style.

The bottle gave a distressed oink.

"Oh, that I can fix," Snape said, and with a swish of his wand, the bottle was turned back into the pig that they knew and loved.

"Dumbledore?" Terry asked, unperturbed.

"Where?" Snape asked, turning around and finding no one. "Oh, I thought I smelled the stench of alcoholism, but nowadays, who can tell if it's Hagrid or Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore?" Terry asked, hopping on his one good leg.

"What's wrong with you, boy?" Snape asked sharply.

"Dumbledore?" Terry asked, hope gleaming in his eyes.

"Are you going to keep saying "Dumbledore" until I answer your question?" Snape asked, eyebrow arched.

"Dumbledore?" Terry queried one last time.

"You're lucky my life of torment has left me with little patience," Snape replied, resigned to tell a long and boring story meant to be filler. Terry's blue eyes glimmered with excitement, and he hopped down to sit in front of Snape, ready to be told a story.

"Once upon a time the gods decided to punish me," Snape began with a sigh. "But let's not start at my birth. Let's talk about Albus Dumbledore. You see, he's the greatest wizard of our time, or at least he used to be. That was before Matilda, his first wife, ruined him, and his second wife, Lacretia, burned Matilda at the stake. Yes, and this is even long before he and Professor McGonagall began screwing around. Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of our time, and to those who don't know him personally, he still is. It's only those in his closest circle," here Snape seemed to glow with some unearthly pride, "know what he's truly like, and I'm actually proud to say I know the real Dumbledore. Not only because it's really hilarious and I have little joy in my life, but because otherwise I would be one of those blind, deaf, ignorant people who follow him without question."

"Like Hagrid?" Terry asked, actually following this rambling story of Snape's.

"Yes, exactly like Hagrid," Snape said, feeling something of pride for Terry, which vanished almost immediately upon registering it.

"What about the Polar-Bear-Who-Could-Be-Named-But-Isn't and my parents?" Terry asked, anxious.

"That's enough talk for now, Terry," Snape said. "You think you'd be satisfied just hearing about Dumbledore, but no. You cripples always want more handouts. Like, 'Ooo, I'm missing a body part, could I please have another?'. No! You should all be glad for what you have, and stop demanding more of my time. That's all you cripples want, my precious time."

"But you just said we want handouts," Terry tried pointing out.

"Stop contradicting me!" Snape yelled, poking Terry with his wand. "I've had it with you."

"Hold on a minute," Nonny said, waltzing back onto the scene. "I realize that your patience has run out with Terry, like any normal human being, but now what do you plan on doing with him?"

"I have to take him back to Hogwarts," Snape said, frowning. "Apparently, it's where he belongs."

"It's wheelchair accessible?" Diddle asked, astonished.

"No, of course not!" Snape said. "This is the magical world! We don't have the time or money to buy into these new fads."

"Then that is exactly where he belongs," Nonny nodded. "Someplace where he'll feel as awkward as possible."

"Like that hole in the ground," Diddle agreed. "Not the nice one in the garden, either, mind you."

Snape nodded. "I catch your meaning, as it were."

"So I'm actually going to be getting an education?" Terry asked.

"What do you think this is?" Snape snarled. "An academic facility? Of course you're not getting an education. We're teaching you magic here. Where did you ever get the idea you could use any of what we'll teach you in the real world?"

Terry thought of this for a minute, and then realized that Snape had been talking for quite some time, and about nothing in particular, really. A question was burning on Terry's mind, and he had to ask it, just one more time.

"Dumbledore?" he queried again.

"Look," Snape started. "If I tell you about your parents, will you stop saying that name?"

Terry nodded enthusiastically, all the while thinking "Dumbledore?" in his head. Why was that name so familiar to him?

"All right," Snape began. "You see, Terry, your parents were very-"

Everyone in the room promptly fell asleep, leaving Terry alone to ponder what had just occurred. Snape awoke a few times to smack Terry with the blunt end of his wand when his thinking and breathing became too loud.

On the other side of Surrey, Harry Potter was met with a cheery eyed and miraculously sober Hagrid who explained his life in full detail. No pummeling was involved.

Yes, perhaps Terry deserved the gentle treatment, but then again- oh look the chapter's over.