Terry Boot and the Masochist's Boulder

That night in the common room saw Terry, Lisa, and Mandy sitting around playing wizard chess. Terry was on Lisa's side, as they didn't want to run the risk of all of the pieces committing suicide again. It was unsettling, and it really disturbed the other first years. Not Terry though. He was used to useless carnage.

It was right in the middle of a heated game. Everyone was on edge, wondering if Terry would do something to push Lisa's Queen over the edge.

Suddenly, there was a tapping noise at the frosty window. The trio looked up, but all they saw was a bright glare from the floating candles.

"These people are freaking wizards," Lisa mumbled. "Can't they conjure up some electricity?"

"What could that be?" Mandy wondered aloud, ignoring Lisa's jab at her people. "We're five stories up, and it's pretty cold out there on the window ledge."

No one was really surprised to see Smarmy perched on the window ledge like some sort of drugged up vulture. When they opened the huge window two things happened at once. One thing that happened was Smarms saying, "Don't ask questions."

The other thing that happened was Terry asking, "How'd you get on the ledge?"

Naturally, both parties ignored each other, as Smarmy didn't seem to think Terry was too important, and Terry didn't seem to think that Smarmy's sitting on a window ledge needed that much thought.

"Can I come in?" Smarms asked, his flanks quivered in the cold night air as another sharp breeze blew by the window.

"Oh yeah, sure," Lisa said, as Smarms stepped into the common room. Everyone turned to stare, especially the girls, as they were more inclined to want to see a unicorn. After all, a stereotypical unicorn was soft, friendly, beautiful, and the best thing a little girl could dream for. Unfortunately for the girls in the Ravenclaw common room, Smarmy wasn't a stereotypical unicorn.

"Hey," Smarms said, lighting a cigarette. "Five feet, please," he said to one third year girl, pushing her back with his hoof. "I'm not that type of unicorn, and you're no virgin."

Lisa's mouth hung open and she ran from the room crying.

"Whoa, I meant the other lass," Smarms said, calling after Lisa, but finally he gave up and just laughed about the whole situation.

"I guess I'll be the one to go calm her down," Mandy glared at Terry, then ran out of the room as well, but in a much more composed manner.

"I can be a good friend," Terry tried to explain to Smarmy. "But sometimes my stump gets in the way of my common sense."

"Okay, laddy," Smarms said with a slight snarl, his nostrils flaring in Terry's direction. "Enough of this chit-chat. You need to come with me. One of my clan has been whacked." And before Terry could think twice, Smarms had hauled him up on his strong back, and jumped out of the open window. Behind him, Terry could hear people exclaiming over the fact that a crippled kid was flying on a unicorn, and that, after all, unicorns couldn't fly.

"Unicorns can't fly!" Terry wailed into the night.

"I thought I told you," Smarmy said, exhaling and creating a huge frosty cloud in the cold night air. "I'm a flying unicorn."

Terry had never been so scared in his entire life, partly because he didn't believe Smarmy, and partly because he didn't like flying on giant horses through the night air. He held onto Smarmy's mane as tightly as he could and closed his eyes.

"Watch the merchandise," Smarms growled, as Terry pulled a little too hard. They hit the ground with a thump, but Smarms just kept running.

"Where...where are we going?" Terry asked, as they headed off towards the Forbidden Forest. It was obvious where they were headed, but sometimes Terry just needed things confirmed.

"Into the very heart of the Forbidden Forest, is where we're going. He's asking for you, and I have to bring you."

"Who?" Terry asked, anxiety rising up inside of him.

"You don't want to know, laddy," Smarmy said, just to make Terry even more afraid than he already was. Inside, Smarmy was chuckling at his own evil wit.

Terry gulped and held on tighter to Smarmy.

In only a few minutes flat they were in the heart of the forest, and Smarms slowed down his gallop to a walk, or a trot if you will, but don't ever tell Smarmy you saw him trotting. It'll be curtains for you.

"Be very quiet," Smarmy warned, lighting a cigarette as quietly as he could. The very night air around them seemed to swallow them up, and Terry had to force himself not to cry out in panic. He hated suspense, especially when he was involved.

Tension was mounting, but not like that, you sick pervert.

Terry was just about to ask if they were 'there yet' and set off a whole 'if you don't be quiet I'll turn this unicorn around and go straight back to the castle' running gag, when they heard raised voices in the distance.

"Malfoy, if you don't stop breathing down my neck I am going to curse you from here to Italy." It was Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, the latter being the obvious person to pick out. Malfoy seemed to shudder at his last words, and Harry smirked proudly. Little did Harry Potter know that Malfoy had just eaten some bad gelato in Italy once, and he didn't want to relive the experience.

"What are those lads doing in the forest on a night like this?" Smarms asked angrily, blowing cigarette smoke out of his flaring nostrils.

"Seems like two legged business to me," Terry answered without thinking, as usual. "And we definitely are not two legged."

"True that," Smarms agreed, taking full account of his four legs, and Terry's one leg and one ugly, deformed appendage.

"Look," they heard Harry murmur. Harry and Malfoy walked cautiously over to a small clearing, and as Terry craned his neck he noticed they were staring at the body of a dead unicorn.

"Oh, poor, poor Saucy," Smarms bemoaned, shaking his head sadly at the loss of his close comrade.

Just then Malfoy let out a loud, annoying, girly screech and started running. Hovering toward the two boys was a large, dark figure, blood dripping from the gaping hole where its head should be onto the ground. Harry seemed frozen in pain, as he clutched his forehead.

The figure quickly moved on, and with a sudden bolt, Smarms went after it, completely heedless of the danger he was putting himself into, or at least, that's what Terry thought was happening.

"He's the one," Smarms screeched, dodging past trees and bushes with Terry still clinging desperately to his back. "The one who wished to speak with you."

"Is he the one who whacked your friend?" Terry asked, trying to keep up with the ever changing lingo. Terry wasn't too good at keeping up with the times.

"No, no... that was done by a fouler beast...," Smarmy tried to say ominously, but failed, as it's hard to sound ominous when you're out of breath and still running, and when you're a wise cracking unicorn.

"Who?" Terry pressed, wanting to know names so he could immediately forget them.

"I'd tell you but it would ruin the plot. Shut up and ride," Smarmy told him, attempting to follow the contract he signed before entering this plot. Giving Terry advice on how to achieve the perfect outcome for this book was number five on the list of things one shouldn't do. The first four are all about Terry himself, and naturally, not important enough to mention in this paragraph.

After a few moments of riding they caught up with the evil looking, hooded figure. They were nearly out of the forest, and there was more moonlight than before shifting through the trees. It gave them a better view, and made Smarmy's coat shine ever more brightly.

"Stop!" Smarms called, and the figure immediately obeyed. "I've brought the kid you were asking about." Smarms unceremoniously bucked Terry from his back, and with a nod of his head ran off into the night like a demented My Little Pony.

"Crap," Terry said, as his only means of transportation galloped off into the darkness. He would have said shit, but this is a children's story, not that it's mattered so far.

"Kid?" the hooded figure questioned, looking at the lump of Terry on the ground. "I asked that unicorn about a kid?"

"Yeah!" Terry answered the question that wasn't directed at him. "I'm Terry Boot, and I'm in Ravenclaw."

The hooded figure's face was still blocked from Terry's view. Suddenly, the looming figure swiveled around on his boot clad feet, and looked in the opposite direction from Terry.

"What would I want with a Ravenclaw?" he asked himself, scratching his cloaked skull in confusion. "What could a Ravenclaw help me with?"

There was a long pause, in which Terry heard the sound of an owl hooting in the distance, and some seventh years trying to have a quickie in the shrubbery a few yards away.

"Urm...hello?" Terry said dumbly, trying to get the figure to start explaining why he was in the middle of the woods on a damp, chilly night. The figure turned around, revealing the pale face of Professor Quirrell.

"Good evening...Te...Terry," he stuttered, grinning insanely, and trying to wipe blood from his lips.

"Who are you?" Terry asked, confused. "And how did you remember my name?"

"Why, I am Professor Quirrell," he said awkwardly. "And I used a neat method to remember your name. Terry: Terry Eats Raspberry Rolls Yearly."

"Why don't you just remember the first letter, "T", and use it to remember my name?" Terry pondered, for once being in the know.

"Shut up!" Quirrell shouted. "Who's the one in charge here? I have to tell you about Lord Voldemort!"

"Hey! Who do you think I am? Harry Potter?" Terry asked, sounding annoyed. "He and I aren't that much alike. We have different plots and characters. I really don't think I have time for this." Quirrell looked taken aback. When did Ravenclaws become aggressive?

"Terry, I have to tell you something," Quirrell nervously played with his hands, trying to forget Terry's new forceful personality.

"Well...tell me then," Terry tried to demand in keeping with his new character which wasn't going to last much past this chapter.

"Lord Pullapart...he's controlling me and my master. He...he wants the Masochist's Boulder...he's using us to get his every desire and whim...," Professor Quirrell trailed off into a lot of incoherent stuttering.

"Well, okay," Terry said, rolling his eyes and looking around the forest for the quickest way out. "Thanks, I think, but now I have to get out of here. I need to study and play some monopoly."

"But you're in grave danger! He's hungry! He wants the rest of your limbs!" Professor Quirrell tried to warn Terry, but it was just no good trying to tell Terry anything, especially when Monopoly was involved.

"Can I leave using this path?" Terry asked Quirrell, pointing at a parting between two shrubs that looked promising.

"Oh, uh...yeah, I think," Quirrell answered, putting his hands into his pockets. "I'll see you in class then tomorrow, Terry."

"Thanks," Terry said, exiting the forest. What a cryptic meeting with his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Hey," Terry wondered aloud. "Have I ever been to a Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

But luckily, that question wasn't exactly pressing at this moment, nor would it ever be.