Perry Slaughter lay in the leaves behind Hagrid’s hut, agitated by the wet ground. He was wearing his favourite hush blue sweater, though now it was marred by streaks of dirt.
“Codswallop,” Perry said.
The sun set and by now the stars were a splash of winking diamonds across the black-velvet sky.
“Perry, where are you?” Perry’s walkie-talkie hissed. It was Renaonee.
“Shazam,” Perry said as he pressed the push-to-talk.
“What? What do you mean Perry?”
“The crisco is in the cornrows.”
“Perry, please. Have you taken your medication?”
Perry responded by blowing a loud raspberry and whipping his head back and forth.
“Perry-“ Perry switched off his walkie and grinned in the stars low-light.
There were not many travellers on the path towards the forbidden forest. Access to the forest was forbidden to students.
Perry saw a tiny elephant travelling in the grass next to his elbow. He turned on his walkie.
“Renaonee what’s the elephant thing?”
“Perry? Have you taken your medication?”
“Renaonee,” Perry whined.
“Fine Perry. The small elephant in the grass is a Rufflegrump. They’re very proud and won’t-“
“Stinger?” Perry asked.
“No it doesn’t have a stinger.”
Perry reached out and took the Rufflegrump in his hand. It trumpeted indignantly and wiggled between Perry’s anime fingers.
“Perry what are you doing? Don’t-“
Perry shut off his walkie, sat up and looked at the Rufflegrump. It was identical to an elephant but without tusks. Instead of grey hide, the Rufflegrump sported a mahogany coat of taut bristles.
Perry raised the Rufflegrump to his nostril and inhaled. It smelled like barbecue sauce. It reminded Perry of charred meat and sloppy Budleys.
The Rufflegrump’s eyes widened. Though Perry thought the Rufflegrump was just a little elephant, Renaonee missed an important attribute of the critter. It was also telepathic.
RumbleSworde’s Sciveys! This nugget smells fantittlyastic, heard the Rufflegrump.
The Rufflegrump began to whine, it’s fat legs kicking in Perry’s hands. Perry’s face darkened at the Rufflegrump’s struggle and he squeezed the little creature until his knuckles popped like popcorns. The Rufflegrump’s eyes bulged and it was still, incapacitated but alive.
I’m gonna eat you, was the last thing the Rufflegrump ever heard.
Perry shovelled the Rufflegrump into his mouth and began to chew, soaking the creature with saliva. His teeth made little progress on the Rufflegrump’s thick skin, so Perry chewed harder, his jaw aching with the effort.
“GHHAA-UWH-WUH-UUUUUH,” Perry said as he chewed.
Perry’s molars sank deeper than normal and there was a loud pop. The Rufflegrump exploded like a gusher and sprayed raspberry jam all over the roof and walls of Perry’s mouth.
Perry lay in the grass for the next half hour, sucking the marrow out of the Rufflegump’s femur and throwing rocks at birds.
Scon’s voice broke Perry out of his reverie as it passed by behind him.
“Fah fuck’s sakes Lolin, I told ya half a dozen time’s already ‘aven’t I? I can’t tell ya anythin’ till we find Perry.”
Perry rolled into a crouching position, peaking around a nearby tree for cover. Scon was with Lolin CreevStreek, Perry could hear the little shit’s camera clicking. Lolin was a fucking torment. His personality was worse than Nearly Dickless Rick’s.
Lolin’ sauntered passed Perry’s hiding spot, walking beside Scon who flaked pastry on the ground with every step. Scon was a member of the Pastry family after all.
Perry growled and clambered up the tree like a horny ape. He prowled quickly out onto a branch and threw himself off of it, drawing the straight razor in his robe’s at the same time.
He let loose a scream as he soared through the air, straight towards Lolin, tongue waving maniacally.
There was a crunch as Perry fell atop of Lolin, crushing him and rendering them both immediately and seriously incapacitated. Neither Perry or Lolin groaned. They were out like Badgrid after twenty barrels of Scrotch whiskey.
“Badrid,” Scon called tearfully into the air, “you know I crumble under pressure.”
Perry woke up in the hospital wing, naked except for a scandalously short night gown. To make matters worse Lolin Creevstreek was lying in bed next to him.
“Ah yuck, what’s he doin’ in bed with me?”
Madame Ponce sniffed and raised her nose as she poured a bedpan’s contents into a pitcher of lemonade.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, would he? Wouldn’t sleep unless he could watch over you. Darn sweet thing ya got there.” Madame Ponce winked at Perry.
“Madame Ponce, where is my straight blade?” Perry asked.
Madame Ponce chuckled. “Thought you’d be after that when you came to. It’s right there on you’re dresser. Musta fallen out when you fell out the tree. Lucky thing actually, it went right into Mr. Creevstreek’s camera and didn’t give him a nick.”
“So is Lolin going to be okay?”
“Why yes, I think so barring any further serious injury,” Madame Ponce said.
“Like a slit throat,” Perry laughed.
“Right, like a slit throat,” Madame Ponce laughed.
Perry picked up his straight razor from the dresser and flicked it open when Professor Rumblesworde walked into the hospital wing.
“Perry,” Professor Rumblesworde said genially, raising his arms for embrace, “it’s so good to see you alive and well after your dreadful accident.”
Perry was pulled into Professor Rumblesworde’s gangly arms. It was easiest to just drop the straight razor and kick it under the bed so that’s what Perry did.
Malbus Rumblesworde, Perry’s idol and without a doubt the manliest wizard on the hit show Street Fighter IV, was dressed in slick leather pants that were cut close to the cloth. He wore a thin white satin shirt, three buttons undone from the top and a shiny black leather vest. His hair was a glorious grey-white mane, thick and lustrous with a braid here or there.
Rumblesworde lit a cigarette with a swipe of his finger.
“Dark things brewin’ Perry.” Rumblesworde said.
“Dark things indeed,” Perry said smugly.
“Don’t be a retard,” Rumblesworde scolded, “try to keep that arrogance off of your face. Thom Piddle was an arrogant boy who became an awful man.”
Perry said nothing, instead breathing intensely, eyes boring holes into RumbleSworde’s forehead.
“Have you taken your medication today bambino?” Rumblesworde asked.
“Perry,” Perry said, frothing at the mouth.
“Merlin’s Spear!” Rumblesworde exclaimed, drawing his revolver from his thigh-holster and aiming it in a smooth, practiced motion.
Rumblesworde fired and a pill rocketed into Perry’s throat, smashing against his larynx and causing Perry to cough as the pill was choked down.
A cup of dark-golden liquid was thrust into Perry’s hand by Rumblesworde and then the drink was guided down Perry’s throat. It was hot and burned all the way down.
“That’s the good stuff,” Rumblesworde kept saying through the haze but Perry didn’t know what that was.
Perry came quickly back to himself, his homocidal tendencies fading away as the amphetamine’s took hold. The wizards at St. Mungoo’s didn’t know why but Perry’s psychosis seemed to be a result of slow-wittedness. Perry’s unmedicated self was so slow to think that it was an excercise in futility. Futility made Perry angry, which made him want to stab.
All this was explained to Perry by Rumblesworde in a fatherly conversation where the word butt was only used three times.
“It’s so simple, don’t you see Perry, the answer has been in front of us the whole time, what a twat I am,” Rumblesworde exclaimed. “You just need to take your amphetamine medication. Conquestidor Sludge has been fine enough a wizard to make us as much as we need. We may as well try a healthy dosage to start. How about twelve pills a day?”
Perry felt a wave of energy roll over him from somewhere beyond.
“Idontcareireallydontcareboombamletsdothisoldman,” Perry shrieked.
“Yes let the energy flow through you Perry, let it exhilarate your young body.”
Potions was an interesting change of pace first period Monday. Scon amused himself by laughing hysterically at Renaonee’s expression of disgust every time Perry answered a question before her.
“Perry,” Renaonee hissed behind Scon as Professor Slate wrote ingredients on the chalkboard. “I’m the one who’s good at academics, remember?”
“ThingshavechangedRenaoneeyouneverknowwhenanarchtypeisgoingtoshatter,” Perry said. He was visibly vibrating and his pupils seemed to exist in two places at once.
The recipe on the board was for an engorgement potion. Perry read the ingredient list and instructions twelve times in a matter of seconds. The words blurred together to create a soup which he soaked up into his brain holes through his brain slurper.
Perry’s hands were a blur as he chopped glow radish with his straight razor.
“Bettertripletherecipetripletherecipe,” Perry said.
“Slow down Perry, it’s not safe,” Renaonee whined. “Don’t you remember last time?” Renaonee held up her right hand where the ring finger was severed at the base.
“Lasttimelasttimelasttimelasttime,” Perry said.
“Why can’t the Chudley Cannons?” Scon asked, apparently oblivious again to the situation. He took a bite out of his own deliciously tasty pastry arm.
Perry finished his potion only five minutes after starting it, stirring it to a frothing whisper.
Professor Slate walked quietly over, a twitch above his eyes and a downwards curl to his lips.
“All done then Slaughter?” Professor Slate asked.
“Yep,” Perry squeaked, bouncing in his seat.
Professor Slate swept his robed arm and came away with a small vial of Perry’s potion.
“Well since Mr. Slaughter is so sure of himself, why don’t we test the bonds of him and Mr. Sconald Pastry’s friendship. We’ll see how competent we are then, Mr. Slaughter.” Professor Slate began to laugh like the Phantom of the Opera.
Perry threw a crystal ball through the air where it connected with Professor Slate’s forehead, sending him down in a shower of sparks and glass. Shards of the crystal protruded from Slate’s face but he was otherwise unharmed.
“No,” Perry shrieked, tearing off his robes and ripping the undershirt off of his chest. “Itsmellyarmhands,” Perry began to shout, shooting the disarming spell at everyone in sight. “Itsmellyarmhards itsmellyarmhands.” Soon the classes wands lay in a neat pile at Perry’s feet.
He pulled down his undershorts and began to urinate on the pile of wands. Nine inch oak, bit bendy, peed on. Eleven inch maple, unicorn horn, firm, peed on.
“Scon I gottan idea,” Perry said out of the corner of his grinding mouth, eyes darting from side to side.
“I’d bloody well ‘ope so Perry,” Scon said. “This is a bloody disaster.”
“Disrobeangetuponthatdeskthere,” Perry urged with his chin, indicating a nearby desk.
“Okay,” Scon said as he climbed up onto the desk.
“Disrobe,” Perry commanded.
Scon looked askance at Perry.
“Disrobiant!” Perry screeched, aiming his wand and Scon’s robe flew off, floating through the air and settling on the ground like a feather.
“Perry no,” Scon whined, trying to cover his pastry privates with croissant hands.
The class began to snicker.
“Perry,” Renaonee shrieked. She was blushing furiously.
“Seems like Pastry has a more of a lady finger than a sausage roll,” drawled Ral-foi. Panty Larkinson sniggered.