Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes (3 page)

            “But the school records show that you will be entering your sixth year this autumn, Harry.  You just took your G.O.A.T. tests, did you not?”

            “Yes, Sir.”

            “See then, you have only completed five years of school!  I’m sorry Harry, this law does apply to you, and ignorance is no excuse!”

            “Not so, Sir, I have completed six years of school, if you count preschool, which of course, I always do.” 

            At this comment, the eight judges began to whisper to each other excitedly.  Fudge rapped his gavel for silence.

            “Silly boy.  Preschool doesn’t count!”

            “Yes, it does.”

            “Preschool is a farce, Harry, you only go to preschool when your parents don’t want you around, which explains why YOU attended preschool, doesn’t it.”

            “Sir, my parents were dead, it’s my aunt and uncle who didn’t want me around.”

            “That’s beside the point, no one counts preschool.  Preschool doesn’t count!”

            “Sir, if you check the law, nowhere does it say that preschool doesn’t count.  Furthermore, I can prove that it does count.”

            “You can?”

            “Yes.”

            And even though, the Ministry tried very hard to not count preschool, it didn’t take much to legally prove that preschool does, in fact, count.  Harry was able to prove that the most important lessons in life are in fact taught in preschool, such as: if it’s anything good, the answer is “No;” adding water balloons to any given situation is generally a bad idea; girls under 12 are icky and have cooties; pants are generally not considered optional; and that the world would be a better place if we all took a nap in the afternoon. 

            Furthermore, Hogwashes records, that were conveniently in the building as Grumblesnore was attempting to answer the Auditor’s inquisition, clearly showed that the school charged the exact same rate for preschool as it did any other year of school. 

            Harry proved that preschool counted from a learning perspective, it counted from a business perspective, and it was not legally different from any other year of school.  The Ministry of Magic had no recourse but to let Harry go, and rewrite the laws, which would take a very long time, as the Department of Wizard Affairs is in many ways slower than the British parliamentary system.  Why it was almost the end of summer, and they still hadn’t even managed to stop sending the automatic warning notices by goat post. 

            Harry had foiled them yet again.

            He snapped out of his reverie, Mudley was gone.  Harry wasn’t feeling quite as angry anyway.  Uncle Vermin had come into the living room, waddling in from the kitchen with the fire extinguisher. 

            Uncle Vermin was a large, neckless man, with a purple complexion that made him look like he was long overdue for a massive heart attack. He was surprisingly calm considering his coffee table was ablaze.  Harry almost didn’t notice the peanut butter cup sticking out of Uncle Vermin’s mouth, – almost.  As Uncle Vermin let loose with the fire extinguisher, Harry gave him a kick in the pants. 

            “Eat the last Reese’s?  I oughta get my friends over here to teach you a lesson, you fat lard!  You remember my friends, don’t you?”

            Harry was of course referring to his friends in The Order of the Harry Putter Fan Club, who had escorted him home after school last June.  They had given Uncle Vermin a stern warning not to mistreat Harry.  There was Mad Dog Hooty, Frommundigus Filcher, Kingsley Shuckthecorn, Wrestlemania Trunks, Rhomulus Loopin, and Fabulous Butterpants, – all diehard Harry Putter fans.  They spent most of their time discussing and debating the trivial details of Harry Putter’s many adventures, and knew everything about Harry.  They were very useful at times and completely overprotective of their idol.  All Harry had to do was send a note by goat, and his friends would storm the house, and give his Uncle the thrashing of his life.  He wasn’t sure that they wouldn’t end up killing Uncle Vermin.   Harry didn’t want that, and really hadn’t needed their help so far this summer.

            “Oh, yes, Harry, but I ….” started Uncle Vermin. 

            “You know the one with that evil eyeball?   He’s an escaped killer and head of the wizard mafia.”  Harry embellished Mad Dog Hooty’s reputation.  In reality, Mad Dog Hooty did have an evil eyeball, was the world’s greatest Auditor, and had the scars to prove it, though now he was retired.

            “Yes, but ….” started Uncle Vermin again.

            “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call my friends here to lay some Serious Smack down on you!” said Harry getting himself worked up again. 

            Serious Smack was his Uncle and godfather. A pang of regret seized Harry, using his dead uncle’s name, for he had only met his uncle once, briefly.  Harry had wanted desperately to get to know his Uncle Serious, however, his uncle seemed to desperately not want to get to know Harry.  He managed to escape Harry the one time Harry met him, had eluded his every attempt to meet him after that, and had unfortunately died recently. 

            All Harry had to remind him of the uncle he never knew was his John Deere 2000 lawnmower.  Serious Smack had given it to Harry as a bribe.  He sent it to Harry one Christmas with a note asking Harry to take the lawnmower, leave him alone, and stop trying to find him.  Harry couldn’t help himself; he kept the lawnmower and kept trying to locate his uncle.  In the end, Serious Smack died suddenly in a bizarre circus tragedy while trying to escape from Harry.  It was all Harry’s fault that his uncle was dead.  If only he hadn’t pushed, hadn’t persistently kept trying to find him, he would still be alive today.  However, Uncle Vermin didn’t know he was dead, and was more scared of Serious Smack then all Harry’s other weird friends combined.  Serious Smack was a clown, and Uncle Vermin was very afraid of clowns. 

            “There is a whole ’nother package of Reese’s in the cupboard,” replied Uncle Vermin both a little smug and a little afraid that Harry might be insulted by his smugness.

            “Oh,” Harry blinked repeatedly.  “Well then, bring me some and some chocolate milk, too.”

            A little later Harry was outside relaxing by the pool in a chaise lounge.  He ate his snack while reading his quibbage comic again.  He noticed the ad in it for the latest Spiderman comic, and became annoyed.  It reminded him that he didn’t get the subscription to Spiderman that he had asked for as a birthday present.  It was just one more thing that the Dirtleys did wrong this summer.  When Aunt Hachooie came outside with a new package of peanut butter cups, she had sweat on her brow.  Harry said, “Thanks, can you be a dear and run out and get me the latest Spiderman comic?  It just came out yesterday.”

            Aunt Hachooie sighed as she headed back out again, reciting her mantra to herself, “Only three more days…. only three more days….”

            Harry decided to go inside and play some Nintendo.  On the way in, another goat showed up, this one was much bigger and older.  The goat had a letter in its mouth, which Harry grabbed, thinking, “What now?”

            He noticed the official Hogwashes seal and opened it immediately.  His jaw dropped as he read it.  Finally saying aloud in disbelief to no one but himself, “School has been canceled?”

             “Something can’t be right.  Hogwashes can’t close!” 

            What could have happened to cause school to be closed this year?  Was Grumblesnore in trouble?  Was Caramelly Fudge somehow behind this?  Harry still couldn’t believe it.  No matter how much better this summer had been compared to every summer he had ever had before, no matter how much fun it was torturing the Dirtleys both physically and mentally, he was still greatly looking forward to going back to school, seeing his friends, just being where he belonged, and of course having another adventure.  He and his fans expected no less.  He folded the letter and put it in the back pocket of his jeans, which were incidentally about four inches shorter than they should have been, and decided that if it was still there later, then this couldn’t be just a bad dream. 

            In the den, he absentmindedly turned on the television.  Some commercial was on for breakfast cereal.  He switched on the Nintendo, changed the channel to 4 and started playing Zombie King II, Die Again Evil Dead.  Suddenly, the same stupid elf hawking breakfast cereal was there again in the middle of his game.  When most commercials had music and lots of loud talking, this one was strangely silent.  All he could hear was the background music to Zombie King II.  He took a closer look.  It looked a lot like Bobby the elf, but wearing a box of cereal instead of clothes.  Elves naturally didn’t wear clothes, clothes being a human convention.  However, those that served humans usually attempt to attire in something, as humans tend to stare, making them feel naked when they are naked.  Elves typically are not very particular in what they choose to wear.  Kitchen-Elves generally wear empty sacks of flour, Laboratory-Elves sometimes wear rubber gloves, and Shoemaking-Elves typically wear old socks.  However, Elves do wear uniforms if required by their masters, and a lot of them do like to have their elven servants dressed in a manner that reflects tastefully on the household they serve.

            “Is this some kind of commercial?” Harry asked perplexed.

            The elf in the cereal box timidly spoke up, “Hello, Harry Putter, Sir.  This is a public service announcement.  Ahem, Hogwashes School of Witchcraft and Wizardry regrets to inform you that school is canceled until further notice.”

            It was Bobby the elf. 

            Three years ago, Harry had accidentally gotten Bobby enslaved.  There are very few jobs that Free-Elves are willing to do, and Bobby had been very fortunate to be happily employed by the Maldoy family.  Respectable wizardly households are difficult to find, and the Maldoys are highly regarded as one of the best, if not the best family to work for.  Free-elves are not paid as part of their employment as they have no use for wizard currency.  Elves value magical power, and the Maldoys had it.  They are one of the most powerful wizard families in terms of magic, and thus the most enviable of families for elves to work for.  The Cheesleys, on the other hand, attract no elves to their household, as their magical power is even collectively rather, well let’s just say, it’s a good thing their house has electricity. 

            The long-term proximity to a good magical family creates a symbiosis from which both the family and the Free-Elf benefit greatly.  The Free-Elf benefits by absorbing magical power from those he serves, while his service, in return makes the family’s magical equipment, laboratory equipment, and magical devices operate smoothly.  The wizard family with a Free-Elf servant finds it easier to concentrate, their potions are stronger, and their magic more efficient through the elf’s freely given service.  Thus, Bobby was greatly respected among the Free-Elves, and his opinion was highly sought after, especially regarding matters of good taste, particularly regarding clothing.  But Bobby was no longer a Free-Elf, thanks to none other than Harry Putter. 

            The sudden event that enslaved Bobby happened accidentally during Harry’s second year at Hogwashes, right after he had found the Chamber of Frozen Dairy Desserts and rescued those who had gotten brain-freezed, including his good friend Hermione, and most important of all, Ginny Cheesley. 

            Ginny, the sister of Harry’s good friend Ron, had been kidnapped and taken to the Chamber of Frozen Dairy Desserts by the persevering spirit of Tom Riddly.  Harry found the hidden chamber, defeated a giant mildew stain, and prevented Riddly from coming back to life by destroying the only copy of his Frozen Dairy Dessert Cookbook. 

            At the conclusion of his adventure, Harry’s feet had gotten wet in the fight versus the giant mildew stain, he was, after all, knee deep in mildew.  When he slogged into Elvis Grumblesnore’s office to return a few bleach-based household cleaners he had borrowed for his battle, he found himself interrupting a conversation with Grumblesnore and Luscious Maldoy, who was there along with his Free-Elf servant, Bobby. 

            Luscious was there in the capacity of chairman of the Hogwashes Board of Education.  It was therefore his duty to relieve Grumblesnore of his position as the school’s headmaster.  Grumblesnore was being relieved of his duties because of the danger the Chamber of Frozen Dairy Deserts represented to the student body, and most of all for his ineptitude in locating the chamber and closing it forever. 

            That’s when Harry informed them both that he had found the Chamber and closed it forever, and presented the tattered remains of the Frozen Dairy Dessert Cookbook as evidence.  Luscious Maldoy was quite miffed.  Harry thought he was doing a great service, saving his good friend and mentor, Grumblesnore’s job, but Grumblesnore was quite miffed too.  The idea of an early retirement was very appealing to him, especially in light of all his recent troubles, the beginning of which coincided with Harry’s arrival at Hogwashes.

            It was at this point that Harry could no longer stand the wetness of his socks and inconsiderately removed them.  Well, on a good day, Harry’s feet stank; on a bad day, his feet were like a stink bomb that induced coughing, dizziness, and watery eyes.  However, that day, the dampness of his shoes along with the giant mildew stain remnants that had seeped into his shoes and socks somehow reacted very unfavorably with Harry’s feet. 

            When he removed his shoes, his socks went off like a concussion grenade, sending a shockwave through the building.  Grumblesnore and Luscious were stunned.  Bobby went into immediate cardiac arrest.  The elf was going to kick the bucket, when Grumblesnore scooped him up, and fled for St. Mongo’s Hospital for the Magically Afflicted.  (This was no job for the school nurse, Ms. Pomfrite.)

            How Grumblesnore was able to break his momentary shock and to summon the stamina to get Bobby out of there and away, is a mystery of superhuman effort.  He collapsed a moment later, there in the hospital.  By comparison, Luscious Maldoy fell unconscious and was not rescued until emergency workers in Hazmat suits arrived.  Harry, of course, was immune to his own stench.

            That course of events, in a nutshell, is what made Bobby a slave.  For elves, it is no small thing, the act of saving their lives, as it is with most humans.  It is their custom, when someone saves their lives, to devote the remainder of their lives from that moment forward to their rescuer as his slave.  There are countless examples, such as St. Nicholas when he rescued an entire village of elves from being bulldozed by the East Millstone Condominium Construction Company, or Brian Keebler, the lumberjack who one day rescued a whole tree full of elves from a woodpecker.

            Ever since that fateful day, Bobby has served Grumblesnore faithfully as his slave.  He adores Grumblesnore as his savior, and would gladly give his own life in exchange for Grumblesnore’s life, if the opportunity ever presented itself.  However, should he ever actually save Grumblesnore’s life, he would then become a Free-Elf once again.

            Ever since that fateful day, Bobby hated Harry Putter.  In the three years since, Bobby had made countless failed attempts on Harry’s life, and he often conspired with others who were also trying to kill Harry.  Bobby pretended to be Harry’s friend in order to lure him into traps, as he had tried on several occasions.  After several attempts to kill Harry failed miserably, yet clearly involved the elf, it became suddenly clear to Harry that Bobby was trying to kill him.  Harry couldn’t blame him, he felt terribly responsible about Bobby’s enslavement even though it had been an accident.  So, Harry never let on that he knew Bobby was in fact his enemy.  He pretended to be friends with Bobby, just as Bobby pretended to be his friend.

            It was bad enough that Harry was responsible for Bobby’s enslavement, yet there was one other important incident that caused Bobby to hate Harry Putter even more.  Harry was also responsible for one other terrible sin that Bobby couldn’t forgive.  Harry had gotten Bobby’s elf friend, Binky, fired from her noble position as the Free-Elf servant to none other than the reputable Bartimous Grouch.  Though she remained a Free-Elf, she was shamed.  Binky was perhaps looked upon as even lower than a Slave-Elf, because she had gotten sacked, something that hadn’t happened to a Free-Elf in over three thousand years. 

            It happened two years ago at the World Tea Cup Tournament.  Bobby had put another of his schemes into effect by launching a Fungus Eater mark into the sky.  The terrifying mark, a mushroom, which had not been seen for years, indicated that the Fungus Eaters were back.  It had the same effect on the various privileged members of the wizarding community there at the World Tea Cup Tournament that launching a firework into the sky indicating that Disco was alive and well today would have on a crowd of muddles at a sporting event, – mass hysteria.  People were fleeing for their lives.  However, there were many brave people out searching the grounds and nearby woods looking for the culprit, including Harry. 

            As it turned out, Harry was the first one to find Bobby holding the bazooka-like firework launcher.  Harry asked Bobby what he had.  Bobby lied, explaining that he had found it in the grass, and handed it innocently to Harry.  Bobby, let out an evil laugh, then quickly disappeared, leaving Harry literally holding the smoking gun. 

            It looked like Harry was going to take the blame for the whole incident; he was holding the launcher, his fingerprints were on the gun.  He had to do something fast, before he was found, or else Bobby would have succeeded in framing Harry for the despicable deed.  Harry would be thrown in Azcabanana Prison to languish miserably the rest of his life, surrounded by The Demented.  Harry heard voices coming his way, and panicking, he threw the launcher over some nearby bushes, where it landed on Bobby’s elf friend, Binky’s head.  Binky crawled out of the bushes holding the launcher right in front of her master, Bartimous Grouch, Arthur Cheesley, Caramelly Fudge, Harry, and two Auditors.  It was Binky who ended up taking the fall, and losing her desirable position and her respectability.  Ironically, Bobby blamed that no good, tricky, Harry (he’ll pay for this!) Putter, for the whole incident.

            “Come on, Bobby, school is canceled this year?  You can’t expect me to believe this, do you?” asked Harry.

            “Oh darn, you figured out Bobby’s little trick, school isn’t really closed, but there is something that is very serious, Sir!  Bobby, at immense risk to his own life, is here to warn you of great danger!” said Bobby lowering his voice, and pressing his nose against the inside glass of the television screen.  He seemed afraid someone might overhear him, but Harry rolled his eyes, he knew that it was all an act.  Bobby was setting up his next bumbling attempt on Harry’s life.

            “Now?  I’m in the middle of killing zombies, that is, if you don’t mind getting out of the way,” replied Harry, starting to get annoyed.

            “Oh, no, Sir!  You are in immense danger,” whispered the elf.

            “Don’t be silly, I can take the Zombie King down.”

            “That’s not what I mean, Sir!  Bobby means, if you go to school this year, you will surely perish!” said Bobby dramatically.

            Harry flopped back on the couch and scoffed, “The past five years, six if you count preschool, which I always do, someone has tried to kill me, and I’ve escaped every time.  So what’s so dangerous this time?”

            “You are in far greater danger this time, Sir!  This time there is a conspiracy to kill you.  Everyone wants you dead!” exaggerated the cereal box clad elf.

            “Come on, Bobby!  Everyone?  What about all my friends?  They don’t want me dead.” 

            “They will after they find out you cheated to win all those quibbage matches!” 

            Harry jumped to his feet.  “What!  I never cheated!”

            “Yes, that’s true, Sir, but once they read those letters saying that you cheated, they will . . .”

            Harry interrupted, “Letters?  What letters?”

            “The letters Bobby sent out last night to your friends and teachers.  They should have received them this morning, Sir.” 

            Infuriated, Harry put his foot through the television into Bobby’s face with a satisfying crash of broken glass and crunch of broken tooth.  The elf groaned, “Ow, thank you, Sir, I deserve that and more for the terrible things Bobby has done.  Please do it again!”  This time he was ready to catch Harry’s foot and bite his ankle.

            “But why?  Why did you send those letters?” asked Harry angrily.