Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes

by O'Donnell, Timothy R.

  Moldyfart’s powers were gone, he was shriveling up like a slug on the sidewalk in the sun. Yet he could not die.

  “Oh, darn,” he thought, as he slinked away. For a very long time, he lay in a hole in the ground very close to death, wishing for death, yet unable to die. It would take years for him to recover. He renewed his vows, one day, he would kill Harry Putter, and he would never eat Chinese food again.

  And indeed, Lord Moldyfart did try several times to kill Harry Putter, even when he was not at his full strength. Yet somehow his adversary had eluded his every attempt, and in some cases had even caused severe setbacks to Moldyfart’s recovery.

  However, Moldyfart had finally managed to return to his full power a year ago, and while Harry may have proven his foot odor was a match for Moldyfart’s power, stench for stench, Moldyfart had other powers that he hoped to test against his enemy soon.

  Harry knew his real enemy, Moldyfart, had only begun to fight, and would be at the crux of any conspiracy to kill him.

  “Well, you know how it is, Sir, sixth time’s the charm! Really, seventh time, if you include preschool.” replied Bobby, relieved that he had not revealed the true leader of the conspiracy, and hadn’t answered Harry’s second question (Why are you helping him?) at all.

  “Hmmm, I think I know how to solve this problem,” said Harry more to himself than to Bobby.

  “How, Sir?” inquired the elf.

  “Well, Moldyfart obviously wants me to go to school, because you are trying to convince me not to go. He knows I will not listen to you, and go to school anyway, just like I always do. And then this conspiracy of his will do me in. He probably has planted several Fungus Eaters inside Hogwashes, while I’ve been sitting around on my butt, enjoying the summer! Now that I’ve figured out his little scheme, I can easily thwart it. Ha, Ha! I’m going to take a year off from school!” laughed Harry.

  Having adventures was one thing, but fighting a well-planned conspiracy to kill you? Harry would just as soon skip that. He was happy that he would have a nice long vacation from the toil of school work, as well as the inevitable danger to his person he had experienced at Hogwashes the past five years, six, if you counted preschool. They really needed to get some better security over there. He would have to talk to Grumblesnore about it. Then he laughed again, he wasn’t going to be seeing Grumblesnore for a year!

  He grabbed Bobby by the neck, pulled him out of the broken television, and tossed the elf out of the window.

  “Thank you, Sir,” came the elf’s receding voice.

  Chapter 3 - Abis Mall

  The next day Harry was to meet Ron and Hermione at the Abis Mall to go shopping for their schoolbooks and supplies. Abis Mall was a one stop shopping Mecca for wizarding needs of every kind, and carefully hidden from the eyes of muddles. There were shops for cauldrons, wands, potions and rare potion ingredients, books, specialty foods, magical items, goats and other familiars, laboratory equipment, robes, cell phones, holy grails, astrological charts and tools, and lawnmowers. There were also shops that provided wizarding services such as spells, restaurants, banking, cleaning, tailoring, real estate, lawn mower repair, and travel. Harry had gone here every year to get his school supplies, including his most important purchase, his magic wand, for a wizard is nothing without his magic wand.

  Harry had his Uncle Vermin drive him to Berlin, which was no problem. Uncle Vermin had long since come to understand the New House Order. Harry got out of the car, and went into a seemingly abandoned amusement park. It had formerly been the ill-fated experiment, Disneyland Germany. It was in a permanent state of rust. Harry jumped into a construction debris chute. The chute deposited him inside a building that looked like an abandoned warehouse from the outside. He landed in the trash dumpster, in Abis Mall, behind The Magic Ice Shop, where wizards go to get frozen in their favorite Magic Ice flavor. He was happy that he didn’t get hurt, but upset at how filthy he was, covered in sticky melted ice goo, used napkins, and bugs. Ugggh, the stink was appalling. He waved his wand and spoke the magic phrase, “AAA Dry Cleaners are the best!” (Sorry about that, folks, but product placement pays the bills these days, you know!) He was instantly clean, fresh, and lemon-scented.

  He was a bit early, so he bought a Magic Ice cone and though it was comfortable indoors, he put on the winter parka needed to eat one. He took a seat outside the shop at a table with an umbrella and waited for his friends to arrive. He glanced at the ceiling, it depicted what it was like outside, a sunny day. The illusion was perfect, he almost felt like he was outside.

  As he waited for Ron and Hermione to arrive, he thought about how he would be seeing them off at the Hogwashes Express in just two days, which reminded him of the time he first met Ron and Hermione.

  He met Ron at Victoria Station while looking for the right platform, Platform p (Pi), on his first day of school. That was nearly seven years ago, if you counted preschool. Harry wondered, if you don’t count preschool, do you count the people you met in preschool? He gave up trying to figure that one out, as he wasn’t much on philosophy, and since he did count preschool anyway.

  Harry had arrived at Victoria Station alone except for his new baby goat, Hedbutt, and was very nervous about how to find Platform p. He was between platforms three and four, just like Hasbeen had told him, but there was no sign of Platform p.

  The wizarding community was clever in the ways it kept itself hidden from the eyes of muddles. The engineers couldn’t just protect the entrance to Platform p with an illusionary wall, or some muddle might come along, and accidentally lean against the wall, only to find out there really wasn’t one. They crafted the entrance to Platform p so that you had to concentrate on something rather specific and unlikely, in order to pass through the illusion, thus preventing the entrance from being discovered accidentally.

  As it was, only one muddle had ever found Platform p, Lewis Carroll. That was back in 1862 when Victoria Station was known as the London, Brighton, and South Coast Railway or LBSCR. (Back then, the wizards only used the first two decimal places to protect the entrance of Platform p. They immediately changed it to ten decimal places, and no muddle has found it since.) Lewis Carroll consequently gave up his career in mathematics, and wrote about his adventures in the strange world he uncovered. The muddles never believed him when he told them about it. That’s why he created Alice to tell his stories, and called them “fiction.”

  Harry was nervous and decided to ask for directions on how to get to Platform p. The conductor he asked, gave him one of those looks that said, don’t bother me with your stupid jokes, kid, and what’s with the kid, kid?

  That was when Harry very fortunately came across the entire Cheesley family. He intuitively knew there was something special about this large, strange group in Victoria Station. They looked like the kind that wouldn’t be heading to Liverpool, Paris, or some other normal destination. They, like Harry, were carrying an assortment of strange affects, wearing robes, and were accompanied by an entourage of strange animals, including a small herd of goats, a rat, a vulture, a goldfish, two chickens, a pig, an orangutan, and a seal pup. The whole family had nuclear orange hair that reminded Harry of the edible orange rind of Muenster cheese. The Cheesleys were special, Harry could tell right away.

  There were a half dozen Cheesleys, young and old, there to see the school-aged Cheesleys; Bill, Marsha, Jan, Cindy, Perky, Fred, George, and Ron off to school. Ron, like Harry, was starting preschool. Mrs. Cheesley instantly became the mom Harry never knew. She made him feel a lot better about his first time getting onto the elusive Platform p.

  Harry remembered Mrs. Cheesley saying, “It’s as easy as pi (pie?), just divide twenty-two by seven in your head down to the tenth decimal, while you run directly into that solid looking brick wall. And try not to think about what will happen if you make a math mistake.”

  After Harry had tried really hard and failed, he remembered how she had reassured him, “Don’t worry about it, Luv, almost all new students take
a couple of tries to get it right, and it’s not uncommon at all to see them with their broken noses and black eyes on the first day! They are sooo cute!” Harry made it on his next try. Ron of course made it on his first try, but he wasn’t nearly as nervous as Harry.

  Harry and Ron took their seats together in the same train compartment, that’s where they first met Hermione. Sometime after the Hogwashes Express had left the station, she burst into their compartment, and asked, “You haven’t seen a frog anywhere, have you? A kid named Neville Largebottom is missing his. By the way, I’m Hermione Stranger.”

  Ron had replied, “Oh, oh, I’m not allowed to talk to strangers!” He immediately refused to talk to Hermione, and wouldn’t talk to her for half the school year. Only after he asked his mother, and got permission, did he finally start to talk to Hermione. By that time, he had a serious and well-deserved reputation for being the ultimate momma’s boy.

  Harry’s reverie was broken as a foreign-looking man wearing a turban walked by his table muttering something that sounded like, “Cheating scumweasel!”

  Harry wondered what that guy’s problem was. Then a lady wearing a black robe went by and he distinctly heard her say, “Drop dead, Quibbage cheater!” She was looking at him.

  Harry could only stammer, “But, . . . But …”

  Suddenly, two ninjas and their pet cat burst out of the windows of a nearby shop, Cutbait’s Curiosities, with a crash and tinkling of broken glass. The cat hissed at Harry. One ninja was twirling nunchucks, the other was drawing knives. Both had on loose black robes and masks, so that only their eyes could be seen, yet Harry had an eerie feeling that he somehow knew who it was confronting him. But who could they be? Harry didn’t have time to think about it, he started fumbling with the Velcro and zipper that held his winter parka closed. He had to get to his wand quick, or in a moment, he would be dead.

  However, in a moment, Harry couldn’t stop laughing. The ninja with the nunchucks accidentally whacked himself in the head with his own weapon. He fell to the ground holding his head and writhing in pain. The other ninja hesitated asking, “Ron, are you ok?”

  The voice further confirmed his suspicion, Harry asked, “Hermione, is that you?”

  Her eyes widened. “Uh, no,” she replied in a much deeper voice than before. “Die Quibbage Cheater!”

  “Stop, Hermione! I can explain!” And he did.

  A few minutes later Harry and Hermione were helping Ron into a chair and putting Magic Ice on the lump on his head. The purple ice clashed horribly with his standard Cheesley nuclear orange hair, which was always a mess. Ron was a chunky kid with freckles. His voice tended to crack frequently, and he had grown at least an inch since Harry had seen him just three months ago. Ron was quite spastic and often tripped over his own big feet. He was clearly at that awkward teenage phase.

  Hermione had a disproportionately large head. The expanse of naturally wavy strawberry-blonde hair, which she wore down to her shoulders, made her head seem even larger. She had bushy eyebrows and a noticeable mustache. Harry wondered if it would tickle if he were to …

  Hermione interrupted his thoughts, asking, “So Harry, what are you going to do when you get to school? How will you keep everyone from killing you?”

  “Actually, I’ve decided something, and I’m afraid you’re not going to like it,” said Harry nervously. “I’ve, decided that I’m not going to school this year.”

  He fully expected Hermione to go off on him. In the momentary silence that followed, he could hear her in his head, “Harry Putter! That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say!” Here it comes, he winced.

  “Cool! That’s very practical of you Harry, just what I’d do,” she smiled.

  Ron laughed, “I must have hit my head harder than I thought. I thought you just said you weren’t going to school this year, and Hermione say that was for the best!”

  “You heard right,” replied Harry smiling too.

  “But you have to go to school! You’ll be a year behind us if you don’t!” Ron argued automatically. He was a true friend and would miss Harry all year. Far worse, if Harry stayed behind, they would never have classes together again. Ron realized all this instantly, and his argument was entirely based on his emotions.

  “I’ll be dead, if I do! I’m better off alive at home, than dead at school, right?” replied Harry.

  “But … But…” Ron felt Harry was wrong, but didn’t know what to say.

  They visited several of their favorite stores. At Til Eulenspiegel’s Merry Prank Shop, Harry complained that he wished he’d be able to visit Fred and George’s Magical Joke Shop in Hogsbreath. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to join the fun of the Hogsbreath visits, since he wasn’t going to school.

  Hogsbreath was the wizarding community closest to Hogwashes. Students of Hogwashes generally enjoyed a weekend trip to Hogsbreath several times each year. There were several shops in Hogsbreath that students typically frequented on these trips. Fred and George Cheesley had dropped out of school last year in order to set up Fred and George’s Magical Joke Shop in Hogsbreath, in the hopes that it would become a favorite of the students.

  Hermione pointed out that Harry was being ridiculous, he could certainly meet them at Hogsbreath for a visit. What else did he have to do? This put a ray of hope into all their hearts. It was instantly settled, Harry would meet them on their first weekend trip to Hogsbreath. That however, didn’t keep Harry from spending all the money he would have used to buy schoolbooks for the upcoming year on all kinds of wicked joke items from Fred and George’s only competitors. He bought a year’s supply of dungbombs, silly string, farting underpants, ultra-burp soda, butt-enlarging crackers, fake wands, a dribble goblet of fire, ventrilo-whoopy cushions, glue-gum, and mace-squirting flowers.

  They decided to head to the bookstore next. As Ron glanced over his list, Harry suddenly realized that he hadn’t received a booklist from school.

  “Hey! I never got mine,” he said as he grabbed the booklist from Ron. “I never got a list from Hogwashes! What does that mean? Do they know I’m not coming to school?”

  “Harry,” Hermione asked, “didn’t you say that you had received an official notice that school was canceled?”

  “Yeah. It had the Hogwashes seal and everything.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t receive one. Did you Ron?”

  “uhnt-uh,” grunted Ron.

  “You see what that means, don’t you?” asked Hermione.

  “That school is only canceled for Harry?” asked Ron.

  “No. It means there is someone at Hogwashes that is intercepting Harry’s mail. They replaced his schoolbook list with the fake cancellation notice, before it was sealed shut. It means we need to watch what we say when we write to Harry, and Harry has to be careful what he says when he writes to us.”

  “That means the conspiracy is real!” concluded Ron. “Crap! That means Harry shouldn’t go to school. He’ll be killed.”

  “Ron, I already explained that I’m not going to school,” said Harry with exasperation.

  Ron replied, “But I thought you were just making the whole thing up, you know, to get out of going.”

  At Pigbristle’s Quill and Bookstore, Hermione held the door open for Ron and Harry. Harry suddenly saw the gleaming smile and wavy blonde hair of their old Defense Against the Fine Arts teacher, Gildersneeze Farthard, autographing his latest book. Harry instinctively ducked behind a bookshelf, pulling Ron with him so that Farthard wouldn’t see them.

  Harry couldn’t believe it. Gildersneeze Farthard was out of St. Mongo’s Hospital for the magically afflicted. He wondered if Farthard had gotten his memory back. Farthard had a large portion of his memory wiped out during Harry’s third year of school. What no one knew was that Harry and Ron were the cause.

  They had discovered the secret to Farthard’s success. For everyone knew Farthard as a heroic adventurer. However, no one knew that Farthard was in fact stealing other people’s incredible adventures
for years, and was really a coward at heart. He would interview heroic individuals, wipe their memories from them, then write books about their fantastic deeds, claiming them as his own. He had become quite a celebrity in doing so.

  Many people referred to him as the Great Gildersneeze. It turned out that, the Great Gildersneeze was quite jealous of Harry Putter’s rapidly growing popularity stemming from the boy’s exciting adventures. So Farthard tried to horn in on Harry’s adventures for himself. Farthard had revealed his dirty little secret and was about to wipe Harry’s memory clean. However, Ron crept up on Gildersneeze and whacked him on the back of the head with a half gallon of ice cream from the Chamber of Frozen Dairy Desserts. It’s not clear whether it was the blow from Ron or Farthard’s subsequent knock to the head as he collapsed to the floor that ironically caused Farthard’s persistent case of amnesia, his drooling problem, and the thick lisp when he spoke.

  Hermione cheerfully skipped up to her old teacher and sang out, “Mr. Farthard! It’s so good to see you again!”

  Harry groaned and hit his head against the bookshelf several times. He thought, “How could someone so smart be so stupid!”

  Farthard’s smile seemed to brighten, if that was possible, he was obviously feeling loved by another fan. “You theem vaguely familiar, child, do I know you?” he asked while wiping his lip.

  Hermione ignored the speckle that touched her face as Farthard spoke. “It’s me! Hermione Stranger. I was one of your students at Hogwashes three years ago! Remember?” she asked.

  “Well, if you are a thtranger, then I guesth I’m mithtaken, but it’th alwayth nithe to meet a fan. Would you like an autograph?” replied Gildersneeze, flourishing his pen, ready to sign another book.

  Hermione disgusted, took a step back as he spoke, to avoid the shower of spittle coming from his direction. She suddenly realized that Gildersneeze probably still didn’t remember much of that year at all. Of course he wouldn’t remember her. She handed him a copy of his latest book, “The Ecstasy of Man-made Explosions vs. the Calamity of Natural Disaster,” then retreated a step.