Harry had shown up because he was bored, and thought the trial might pass the day. He had heard prisoners get three square meals a day, and he found it amusing that he was tempted to try it out. He seriously doubted that Azcabanana Prison could be any worse than living with the Dirtleys. But in all seriousness, he doubted that he’d have the kind of adventures that he really enjoyed at school, if he were imprisoned, so he had no intention of allowing them to throw him in the wizard jail.
The trial was being held in the same courtroom that his previous trial had taken place; however, it was even dustier than last time. He doubted it had been used since. He sat in his chair feeling very small in front of the row of judges that stared down at him like an accusation.
Judge Fudge began, “Mr. Putter, I notice that your counsel is absent today, where’s Grumblesnore?”
“I dunno,” shrugged Harry.
Fudge tittered to himself, for he knew very well where Elvis Grumblesnore was. Professor Grumblesnore, the schoolmaster of Hogwashes, was on the sixth floor of that very building. He would be answering a barrage of Auditor questions for the rest of the day. Fudge had arranged the whole thing. He thought, “Grumblesnore won’t get you off the hook this time!”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” he frowned, “but we can’t reschedule the trial, we’re very busy you know.”
The rest of the judges continued to silently scowl down at Harry as if he was a war criminal. However, Perky Cheesley, the court transcriptionist, laughed until his nose turned brown. Perky Cheesley was the estranged brother of Harry’s friend Ron. He was also Caramelly Fudge’s adoring underling. Perky Cheesley was a huge moron in many ways and somehow had gotten hooked on Caramelly Fudge, and wanted nothing more than to have Caramelly Fudge like him, and if that meant hating Harry Putter too, so be it. Perky could do that.
His father, Arthur Cheesley had disowned him for it. To Arthur, liking Caramelly Fudge was bad enough, but disliking Harry Putter well, that was going against the family! In fact, Arthur wished Harry was family, almost as much as he wished Perky wasn’t. Each member of the whole Cheesley family is a certified, card-carrying member of The Order of the Harry Putter Fan Club, except Perky.
“Let’s see,” said Fudge as though he weren’t intimately familiar with the case, “you have been sent, oh dear, how many? I can’t count them all. Forty-seven warning notices for the use of magic by a sixth year student, and in the presence of muddles!” He put a note of shocking appall in his voice. “How can this be, school has been out only one week! What’s this? Refused to relinquish his wand! Tsk, Tsk! Attacked ministry personnel! Subverted ministry personnel! And patronized The Demented! Harry Putter, have you no shame? Whatever has become of the good little boy, I once knew? It can’t be true! There must be some mistake! Eh, how do you plead?”
“Not Guilty.”
“What?” Fudge let slip. He couldn’t believe this hoodlum had the audacity to plead “Not Guilty.”
“Not Guilty,” Harry repeated a good deal louder.
After a moment to collect his thoughts, Fudge said, “Right, well, let’s get this young man sworn in shall we?”
The bailiff had Harry put his hand in the Thumbscrew of Truth or Ulp. Then asked Harry, “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you or else, Ulp?”
Harry was nervous now, his voice cracked when he said, “I-I do.”
The magic thumbscrew began to glow with a soft blue light, and rotated to a point of discomfort. Harry knew that any lies would cause the Thumbscrew of Truth or Ulp to tighten unmercifully; the pain would be excruciating, and the lie would be obvious to all who viewed his writhing pain. Harry had no choice but to tell the truth.
Caramelly Fudge smiled his wicked smile again, and began. “You are Harry Putter of 4 Privy Drive?”
“Y-y-yes.”
“And you are a student at Hogwashes School for Witchcraft and Wizardry?”
“Yes.”
“And how long has school been in recess this summer?”
“Since last Friday. One week.”
“And since last Friday, have you used magic?” Fudge peered closely at Harry.
“Yes.”
“Ah ha! And how many times have you used magic?”
“I don’t know, dozens of times.” To Harry’s relief the thumbscrew didn’t automatically tighten when he didn’t know the precise answer. Just as long as he told the truth, he would be fine.
“And have you received any warning notices regarding the use of magic during your recess?’
“Yes.”
“And you understand what those warnings mean?”
“Yes.”
“Oh really? It doesn’t seem to me you did!” Fudge looked around the bench, and received the laughter from this statement that he felt it deserved.
“So, after receiving the warnings, you continued to perform magic? Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“A total of forty seven times this past week?”
Harry was worried that this question was a trap. He had lost count of how many times he had used magic on the Dirtleys, and was indeed a bit surprised that it was so often. If he said yes, and it was the wrong amount, would the Thumbscrew tighten? Drops of sweat began to bead on his forehead. He replied, “If you say so, Sir.”
“Yes, I do say so. You received forty-seven warning notices, and ignored them all! In fact, didn’t a ministry authority come to collect your wand?”
“Yes.”
“And did you use magic on him?”
“Yes.”
“Instead of relinquishing your own wand, you captured his, did you not?”
“I did.”
“And you sent him packing didn’t you?”
“I did.”
“Shameful! Is that how you treat representatives of the ministry?”
“Usually.”
Fudge paused. The scowls of the nine silent black-robed judges became deeper and more sinister in appearance.
Fudge continued, “And afterward, the Ministry of Magic sent an Auditor to collect your wand, did you use magic on him?”
“No.”
Fudge paused again, a bit confused. He expected that the Thumbscrew of Truth or Ulp would have the boy writhing for his last answer. “Bailiff, is that Thumbscrew in working order?”
The bailiff stepped forward, and said, “It passed its morning check, was working fine.”
“Test it again,” Fudge ordered.
The bailiff removed the Thumbscrew of Truth or Ulp from Harry, and placed it on his own hand. “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth or else, Ulp.”
Then the bailiff braced himself and said, “I love my mother-in-law!” He was quickly thrashing around in agony. In a panic, he began shouting, “I hate her! I can’t stand her. I hate my mother-in-law!” His pain subsided.
“It’s workin’ just fine!” The bailiff removed the device, and swore Harry back in.
“Shall we continue?” Fudge cleared his voice. “The Ministry of Magic sent an Auditor to collect your wand, did you use magic on him?”
“No.”
Fudge frowned, disappointed. He did not know how Harry could have subverted the Auditor without magic, but, no matter, he had Harry Putter right where he wanted him. The boy had admitted under oath to using magic forty-seven times during the first week of summer recess! It was an open and shut case. He would wrap it up very soon.
“Fine. The ministry then sent The Demented to collect you and your wand, did you use magic on The Demented?”
“No.”
Fudge scowled. “So, you have admitted to using magic forty-seven times this week! Yet, for some reason, you chose to plea, ‘Not Guilty!’ Were you confused about the meaning of Not Guilty?”
“No, Sir.”
“Quite right! You pleaded Not Guilty because you thought you could weasel your way out it, like you did last trial!”
“No, Sir.”
&nb
sp; “Well then, would you like to change your plea to Guilty then?”
“No, Sir.”
Caramelly Fudge rapped his gavel and stood up. He was infuriated. “What are you saying Harry Putter? That you are Not Guilty after you have already admitted in front of all of us that you are!”
“No, Sir.”
“‘No, Sir?’”
“The law states, ‘The use of all methods of magical incantation, enchantment, and summoning by any 1st through 6th year students outside of Hogwashes School for Witchcraft and Wizardry is strictly forbidden and most definitely not allowed,’” quoted Harry. “However, this rule doesn’t apply to me.”
“No one is above the law, Harry Putter!” Fudge raised his voice. “I am very disappointed in you, boy. Just because you are a celebrity of sorts, does not mean you will be treated differently in the eyes of this court! Justice is blind!”
“That’s not what I mean, Sir.”
“No? But you say this rule doesn’t apply to you? How so?”
“The law applies to students from their 1st year through their 6th year. After six years of school, any student is old enough to use magic at home. In fact, most students, after six years, are encouraged to begin to use magic to help out around the house, doing dishes, cooking, straightening up.”
“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?”
Chapter 2 - Conspiracy
“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.
Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes Page 2
