The only thing worse than spending time in one of Lockhart's lessons was trying to complete the ludicrous tasks he set as homework. Even Hermione wore a frown on her face as she attempted to write fourteen inches of parchment on the ways he had dazzled a vampire (one such claim was that his teeth were so perfect and bright that the vampires attacking him had simply run away, believing it to be the sun - Matthew had guffawed endlessly at that). When Hermione, the most diligent student in the school, lacked the enthusiasm to complete her work, then that was a clear sign that something was wrong. She wasn't on the same side as Matthew, however, who had decided to go on strike until something changed, refusing to complete any of the assignments. The extremely drastic course of action had led to a few arguments between the pair, inevitably bringing Harry into the middle of them. Hermione would champion that, regardless of who was organising the work, the work still had to be done. Meanwhile, Matthew, proving to be just as defiant as usual, would claim that none of the tasks were adding to his educational enlightenment (his own words, spat out sarcastically just to annoy their friend even more). The issue was that, invariably, they would turn to Harry as if he were making the casting vote as to what the appropriate thing to do was. For the time being, he had settled for doing the homework but to a relatively poor standard. It was a decision that served to simultaneously appease them both, as well as slightly angering them too.
They were walking through the school grounds, heading for the same tree that had been the backdrop for their photo a short while ago. Harry's embarrassment had the tendency of flaring up whenever he thought about how starstruck Colin Creevey had been, although the younger boy's enthusiasm had been tempered ever so slightly by Matthew's intervention. He was, by no means, comfortable enough to be in Harry's presence without looking extremely nervous but he was able to keep his questions to a minimum, which Harry saw as a massive win. He didn't need a fan club, not when he had enough attention on him already. They had chosen that spot to hang out during their free time mainly through Matthew's skills of persuasion. Hermione had hoped to go to the library to read up on more factual accounts of close encounters with magical creatures, but Matthew had countered with the idea that they read outside instead, to make the most of the fairly pleasant Scottish weather. That was how the two tended to differ, Harry had found. They were both incredibly smart and valued their education, but Matthew was willing to be a lot more relaxed about it. He was grateful for that, since it meant they weren't constantly studying - children needed to be children the majority of the time.
"All I'm saying is that, if Lockhart's wig happened to blow off in a big gale, it would certainly be a contender for the best moment of the year." Matthew was wearing that Cheshire cat-grin he always sported when something really amused him. The prospect had made his eyes go all misty as he dreamed about such a glorious event.
"As long as you're not the one who creates that gust of wind, then that would be perfectly acceptable." Hermione's grin was a little bit more hesitant, as if saying anything like this was inherently wrong but the smile was there nonetheless.
"Hermione Granger, did I just hear you say something against a teacher?" Matthew's visible enjoyment was only increasing at her involvement.
"It wasn't against Professor Lockhart!" she defended herself.
"It sounded it to me," Harry chimed in, joining in with the fun. It was these moments that he truly cherished, when they were able to be carefree, the sort of thing he had missed out on in his childhood.
Hermione paused to narrow her eyes at him. "All it was is that…perhaps I'm starting to see how…his teaching methods…leave a lot to be desired. I wouldn't call that criticism, just…advice."
"Go on…say it," Matthew pleaded. "Just to us, your two devoted friends who cherish the ground you walk upon." He looked as if he was willing to get on his knees on said ground and beg. "Say that you think he isn't a good professor and we deserve a lot better."
"...Professor Lockhart isn't as good as the rest of the faculty. And that's as much as you're going to get out of me."
"I'll take it! We're having a detrimental effect on the outlook Hermione has towards authority figures, Harry, and I couldn't be prouder. And this is just what we've managed to achieve in little over a year. By the time we leave Hogwarts, she'll be a full blown rebel, mark my words."
"Because you're such a rebel yourself, aren't you, Matthew?" Hermione didn't sound too convinced.
"I get the sense that you're doubting my commitment to total anarchy. Don't test me, Granger. You'll probably complain about the end results."
"So now you're an anarchist?" Harry asked in bewilderment. "You have three sugars in your tea every morning and complained about there not being any raspberry jam for your toast at breakfast."
"Which I have to remind you is really bad for your teeth," Hermione pointed out, her eyebrows knitted together in worry. "You should cut down on your sugar consumption. Or I'll have to book you in with my parents over the holidays."
"See, anarchy," Matthew said, seemingly unphased by Hermione's light threat. "Someone would presume I just have little to no regard to my dental health, which I believe should fall under the bracket of anarchy. And I'm not changing my drinking habits. I like my tea as sweet as my personality." He gave them an over-enthusiastic smile to convince them of his sincerity. "Although I've definitely got a sour taste in my mouth at the sight that's coming towards us."
It was a bunch of Slytherins, the quidditch team by the looks of their bright green cloaks, all trimmed with shimmering silver. Even the way they walked appeared arrogant, as if only they had the right to be walking on the grounds. Harry didn't doubt that, deep down, they all truly believed that, another reminder of why he was so thankful that the Sorting Hat hadn't placed him in that House. They were all carrying sleek brooms, which looked vastly different to the ones they had trained on nearly a year previous. Harry was no expert on the sport, but even he could tell that these were good . One of the members of the group barged into him as they walked past and Harry wasn't having any of it.
"Oy!" he yelled at their retreating backs. "Watch where you're going! No wonder you weren't put in Ravenclaw seeing as you don't have the brains to walk around a person."
Hermione nudged him anxiously. "Harry!" she hissed. "Keep your mouth closed!" These were burly figures, older students that looked like they'd been held back a year or two.
"We don't have the time to waste on you, Potter," one of them shot back in derision. "We're training our new seeker."
Having been hidden amongst the group, a smirking face appeared. Malfoy was waving at them with his free hand, his expression even cockier than usual. "That's right." His voice was as slimy as ever, just as greasy as his slicked-back hair. "You'll get to see my amazing skills from the stands when Slytherin destroys Gryffindor."
The trio had a very minimal interest in quidditch and its accompanying house politics, but they weren't about to let Malfoy have the last laugh.
"Nice brooms," Matthew quipped. "Rather expensive looking, aren't they?"
"Top of the range. The very latest model. Extremely hard to come by because they were only announced a month ago, but Slytherin deserves the best."
"Wow, colour me impressed. And did Professor Snape dig into his pockets to pay for these? I've never thought to ask what a teacher's salary comes to, but I doubt it'd cover this extravagance."
The older boy who had spoken to them before stepped forward. "These were a generous donation from Lucius Malfoy. He understands how we're the superior team and now we have the superior brooms to go along with that."
"Ah, that explains it," Matthew said with a fake smile.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Malfoy asked, his eyes narrowed.
It was Hermione who answered, picking up on where her friend was coming from. "It means that we'll continue to support our Gryffindor team because, no matter what brooms they have, at least no one there had to buy their way into the squad."
Malfoy's confident and haughty smirk flickered, turning into a dark sneer. "Nobody asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood."
Harry had never heard the term before but could tell it was something more serious than his usual taunts, mainly because of the reaction of his two friends. Hermione's face faltered, on the verge of tears, whilst Matthew's breezy attitude was replaced with a look of such furious indignation that it even made him slightly terrified. In an instant, Matthew was moving Hermione out of the way, towards Harry, as he stepped closer to Malfoy. His walking stick was gone, replaced by the wand in his hand, and it was trained directly at the Slytherin.
"Take it back," he said, his tone unwavering, almost monotonous. It was clear that he was trying his best to control his emotions.
Malfoy, for what it was worth, did look fairly worried but, putting on a show, laughed along with the older Slytherins by his side. "Why would I take back something that's true?"
Matthew's knuckles tightened around his wand. "I've given you the benefit of the doubt before but you've gone too far this time. Draw your wand."
"Excuse me?" The Slytherins were still chuckling but there was no longer an assuredness to their confidence. The air seemed to crack and fizz with an unknown energy, like just before a storm approached.
"DRAW YOUR WAND!" Matthew bellowed this time.
Some of the quidditch team flinched away from his roar. Malfoy barely knew what was happening but this was his chance to impress his older teammates. Refusing to get involved would be a mark on his honour and he wasn't about to let his reputation be besmirched. He pulled his wand out of his pocket, struggling a bit with the way his hand was shaking. The pair edged away from the larger group, giving them enough space to duel.
"Take your shot," Matthew instructed him.
This confused Malfoy even more and he risked glancing back to his entourage, who were looking equally as puzzled. With a shrug though, he aimed his wand at the other boy, thinking of what spell to use. He'd just decided on the perfect one, uttering 'Rictumsem…' before Matthew silently shoved his wand forward. A golden force erupted from the tip, sending his opponent flying through the air, eventually landing in a heap on the grass at least twenty yards away. Even from where they stood, they could hear his pained moaning. The other Slytherins looked like they didn't know what to do, unsure as to whether to attack the Gryffindor or attend to their fallen Seeker. In the end, they chose the latter, mainly because of the murderous glint in Matthew's eyes.
"Come on," he muttered to Harry and Hermione, who looked equally as shocked by what had happened. He paused, examining the girl's face, where the ghosts of tears were evident. "Are you okay?" He waited for her to dumbly nod her head. "Good. Let's get out of here."
"Where…are we going?" Harry managed to stammer.
Matthew looked back towards the castle. "Word of this is going to spread like wildfire so I say we avoid the common room until it dies down. Hagrid's hut? We haven't been there for a while. I could do with one of his rock cakes to take my anger out on."
They began to walk away, but could still hear Malfoy shouting. "This won't be the end of this! Just wait until my father hears about this! Enjoy being here, you freak, because you won't be for very long!"
With Malfoy's threat left hanging in the cold air, the trio marched away, heading for sanctuary. Matthew didn't look back once at the scene they'd left behind, although the other two would occasionally glance back, if only to see if they were being followed. Perhaps by angry Slytherins, perhaps by angry professors. They didn't know which would be worse. None of them spoke as they walked, even if they had thousands of questions they wanted to ask. From the look on Matthew's face, it didn't seem that he was in the mood to answer any of them. Whereas he would normally evade pointed queries with a few playful quips and cheeky smiles, he was now showing the other side of his character, the one that told them to stop their interrogation before it even began.
As they approached Hagrid's hut, cutting across the grass, they happened to see Professor Lockhart going up the path, heading back towards the castle. They were just far away enough to not be noticeable, much to Harry's relief. He wondered what the 'teacher' would have wanted from the groundskeeper, since there was nothing else in this part of the grounds, unless he liked exploring the Forbidden Forest. For what it was worth, Harry could tell that Lockhart had popped by to visit Hagrid just before them solely from the demeanour of the half-giant as he opened the door. He swung it open wildly at the sound of their knocks, with Fang the Boarhound barking at the fresh interruption.
Hagrid's face did brighten when he realised who it was this time. "I've been wondering when you'd come to see me! Come on in. I was just about to put the kettle on. There was no chance I was gonna do that while ol' Lockhart was here, in case he took it as an invitation to stay longer!"
The three of them walked over the threshold, taking up their usual seats whenever they came here. They felt a bit guilty that it had taken them this long to come down, even more so because they were using Hagrid as a means of an escape. It hit Harry especially hard, who realised that he had neglected his first true friend without properly realising. The feel of Fang's slobber dripping down his leg as the dog rested its head on his legs served as a reminder of why they often stayed clear.
"What did Lockhart want with you?" Harry asked. It was safer territory to bring up, allowing the other two to recover from what had just happened.
Hagrid laughed mirthlessly as he moved a half-plucked rooster from the table, freeing up space to place a teapot down. "He's been telling me the best way to get rid of kelpies in a well. As if I don't already know! And he kept banging on about some ludicrous story of how he banished a banshee. I tell you, if one word of it is true, I'll eat my kettle."
Harry had never heard Hagrid speak in such a way about a fellow staff member. It seemed that Hermione was just as taken aback. "Aren't you being a bit unfair?" she countered. Harry and Matthew rolled their eyes. They had hoped that she'd moved fully past her tendency to defend him, when all the evidence pointed to him being a dimwit. "I mean, Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job and…"
"He was the only man for the job!" Hagrid told them as he offered them a plate of treacle fudge to go with the tea. "And when I say only , I mean it. It's getting very difficult to find anyone for the Dark Arts job. People aren't keen to take it on, if you catch my drift. They're starting to think it's jinxed and I don't blame 'em really. No one's lasted long for a while now and I can't see the latest offering doing much better."
"Not if I have anything to do with it," Matthew said grumpily, his arms crossed. He was usually the first to take some of the fudge that Hagrid made, always having a sweet tooth (he'd labelled it as his one weakness), but he hadn't moved an inch at the sight of the plate. "There has to be someone else. They could bring back a former student who's just left - they'd know all the lessons. Even better, they could stick a broom at the front of the classroom and no one would notice any difference. It'd certainly sprout less nonsense than the dear professor."
The armchair sagged as Hagrid sat down on it. "Those are some strong words. Tell me, what's got your pants all in a twist. You've all looked right angry since you came in here."
"Malfoy called Hermione something," Harry explained, taking it upon himself to do the talking. "I didn't really understand but it must have been bad from the way everyone reacted."
"It was more than bad," Matthew growled. "The little snake called her a Mudblood, Hagrid."
The half-giant looked outraged. "He didn't!" he roared, looking at Hermione, who looked close to tears as the memory resurfaced. She weakly nodded her head.
"But Malfoy has called us plenty of names in the past," Harry spoke up. "Why is this word so repulsive?"
"It's by far the most insulting thing he could have thought of," Matthew said, still visibly seething.
"Mudblood is a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born, like me," Hermione continued in a small voice. There are some wizarding families, including the Malfoys, who think they're better than everyone else just because they're what people call pure-blood. As you can probably guess, that's when the family is solely comprised of wizards." She and Matthew had discussed this dynamic during their first year but it was still intriguing to see Harry try to comprehend what was being said. It made no sense to him, how your blood could determine your abilities.
"Malfoy was using the term to insult Hermione's capabilities," Matthew continued, spitting out the Slytherin's name. "Her knowledge, her powers, her strength. Which you can see is completely ridiculous because Hermione is the smartest witch that we've ever come across." The girl in question turned a brilliant shade of burgundy at the unexpected compliment. "He was trying to take away all of her achievements and dedication with a single word. In what sort of society is that deemed fair?"
"I wouldn't have thought too much about it…I mean, I've learnt to drown out the harsh words of bullies growing up…if it wasn't for what happened next."
Hagrid sat forward, agitated. "And what was that?"
Matthew was stubbornly looking at the floor so Hermione took it upon herself to detail what had happened. "For some reason, Matthew saw fit that the best course of action was to send Malfoy flying through the air. With a bit of magic we definitely haven't been taught yet, I might add." She narrowed her eyes at her friend.
Hagrid took a sharp breath. "You didn't! What did you go and do that for, hey?"
"It was brilliant!" Harry defended him. "It's about time that someone stood up to him and maybe this will keep him quiet for a few weeks. You should have seen the look on his face when the spell was heading towards him. And the sound he made as he landed. It'll go down in legend."
"That's the worst thing you could have done! I thought you were smarter than allowing that boy to goad you into reacting." Hagrid didn't look as impressed as Harry.
"He deserved it," Matthew said simply. "He shouldn't be allowed to go around, saying stuff like that. He needed to be taught a lesson. And, honestly, he wasn't hurt, other than a bruised ego, no matter what he says. I know what I was doing."
That was what was troubling Hermione, that Matthew had done it so easily. "I'm flattered that you thought you needed to do this, but I don't need you to defend my honour. All you've done is paint a target on your back and, frankly, I'm worried what Draco might do in retaliation."
"I'm not going to apologise. You saw what happened…I gave him plenty of time to draw his wand, to take the first shot. It wasn't as if I attacked him out of the blue. It was a duel. A very short, one-sided duel, but a duel nonetheless. He can't complain about that."
"You don't need to worry about him complaining," Hagrid said. "I have no doubt that his father, Lucius, will be charging down to the school gates by tomorrow. He's on the board of governors and none of the others have the backbone to challenge him. He could make life a great deal more difficult for you." Hagrid shook his head sadly.
"Lucius Malfoy doesn't scare me."
"Matthew," Hermione pleaded. "You need to learn when the right time is to be picking battles. And who the people are that you shouldn't aggravate."
Matthew shrugged. "For over a year, we've had to put up with that little twerp thinking he owns this place. I'd love it to see his dad come here to stand up for him because it'll give me the chance to tell him what a rotten child he's raised. If Lucius Malfoy wants to come for my head, he better not miss."