Harry Putter & the Deathly Hairballs

by O'Donnell, Timothy R.

  He closed the door quietly.

  The three teenagers sat down in wooden chairs. Dufus set his portfolio against the side of the desk and put his hat down next to his briefcase. He said, “I have a bit of unusual business to transact with you. Let me commence by explaining that it is not of my origination. Had my advice been asked earlier, I should not be here now. However, it was not asked."

  Dimeeyore had begun to pace for a moment, but he stopped and lifted his leg, setting it over the back of a wooden chair. There he stood with one foot on the seat of the chair and the other on the ground.

  "Now, I have been named to execute the last will and testament of one, Elvis Grumblesnore, formerly known as Elvis Pressley. I am a busy man, and in hindsight, I wish I had not accepted this responsibility. At the time, I decided to honor his request because Elvis was always a good friend. However, since then, I have come to discover the unprofessional nature of the business contained therein. And I find the position of executor to my great dislike. He has left a most unusual last will and testament.”

  Hermione asked, “In what way?”

  Dufus replied, “It is customary that one’s will distribute the assets of the deceased. Elvis Grumblesnore has given clear instructions to his business in that regard. However, it is most unusual for the deceased to distribute assets for which they own no legal title and can make no legitimate claim of ownership.”

  The minister continued, “This applies to the property left to each of you.”

  Despite early misgivings, due to the introduction of the Minister, the three teens could not help but become excited by the words, “property left to each of you.”

  Dimeeyore looked at Ron and said, “Mr. Ronald Cheesley, it is the dearly departed Elvis Grumblesnore’s wish to bequeath to you a rather large property in the United States.”

  Ron jumped up out of his chair, knocking it down, “Holy Crap, Graceland! I just knew it! Oh-ho-ho! I can’t believe it!”

  Dufus frowned. He wondered how the teenager could both ‘just know it’ and ‘not believe it’ in the same breath. He quickly chalked it up to idiocy. He said, “Sit down, young man, and stop jumping to conclusions.”

  Ron picked his chair up, sat back down in it, and was gripping the wooden arms tightly as he listened attentively.

  The Minister said, “The property in question is known as Ellis Island. However, there is no question about its ownership. Title of said property has already been established in a 1998 US Supreme Court case. Most of Ellis Island is part of the State of New Jersey and the remainder belongs to the State of New York. Whereas, no portion whatsoever is owned by Elvis Grumblesnore. Therefore, the deceased may have named you as beneficiary of said island, but never-the-less you have no legitimate claim to the property.”

  Ron said, “Whoo hoo! I own my own island! I own the Statue of Liberty!”

  Hermione contradicted, “Sorry, Ron. The Statue of Liberty is actually on Liberty Island.”

  Ron asked, “How do you even know that?”

  Hermione answered, “My parents took me there while on holiday, about five years ago.”

  Dufus said, “Do enjoy it, young man. Of course, you may visit Ellis Island as often as you like, but when you do, please, leave things the way they are. Any attempt to take possession of it is quite likely to land you in a psychiatric hospital.”

  He continued, “Additionally, Grumblesnore has left you one pair of soiled blue suede shoes.” He handed Ron the shoebox. And here are your corresponding forms.”

  Dimeeyore pulled a manila folder from his briefcase and handed it to Ron. Then he pulled a pen from his breast pocket and offered it to the teenager.

  He said, “I’ll need you to sign that you received your property, specifically, the pair of blue suede shoes. Additionally, I am also giving you a signed and notarized statement from me in the capacity of executor. It states that despite Grumblesnore’s wishes, possession of and title to Ellis Island cannot and will not be provided to you as part of the administration of the Grumblesnore Estate. It is your right to contest this in a court of law. However, should you choose to do so, you will have to first prove that Grumblesnore is the owner of said island, and not the states of New Jersey and New York. Good luck with that.”

  And as an afterthought, Dimeeyore added, “Oh, and Ron, it is Grumblesnore’s last request that you make every effort possible to have the name ‘Ellis Island’ renamed to ‘Elvis Island.’ Good luck with that, too.”

  Ron replied, “I’ll get right on it. It’s the least I can do.”

  Then the Minister turned to Hermione, “And to you, Ms. Stranger, the deceased has left two famous paintings. First, to quote the deceased, ‘the masterpiece titled, Velvet Elvis.’ And second, the lesser known portrait, by the artist Leonardo Da Vinci, titled, The Moaning Lisa. The latter work of art, however, is completely and entirely the asset of the Nation of France and not Elvis’s to give to anyone.”

  Hermione laughed, “It’s mine and a sissified country like France isn’t going to keep from me my rightful property!”

  The minister replied, “For your own sake, I strongly suggest you not attempt to take possession of it.”

  Hermione laughed, “I was only joking! Anyone would be crazy to try.”

  Ron said, “Hey you know what’s weird? The Statue of Liberty is French, and so’s The Moaning Lisa!”

  Hermione sighed, “Ron, The Statue of Liberty was a gift from the French to the United States, It’s American, and in case you weren’t listening before, it’s not on Ellis Island. And Leonardo Da Vinci was Italian and so was the woman in the portrait. The Moaning Lisa isn’t French, it’s owned by France, and it’s on display at the Louvre Museum in Paris.”

  Dimeeyore said, “Finally, Ms. Stranger, there is one more item Grumblesnore has left to you. It is a children’s book titled, The Drunken Tales of Beadie the Blowhard. You will find the book and Velvet Elvis in this portfolio case. And, as you so aptly stated, you will find The Moaning Lisa in the Louvre. Please sign, here. And here is your corresponding legal notice.”

  Finally, the Minister turned to Harry. He said, “And if leaving property that the deceased has no legitimate claim of ownership to pass to his heirs isn’t bad enough. Mr. Putter, it is further inconceivable for the deceased to distribute assets that do not materially exist, i.e., articles of a fictitious nature.”

  Harry asked, “Such as?”

  Dufus replied, “Such as the sword, Excalibur, specifically named in the will and described as, ‘the original and true sword named Excalibur, as described in Le Morte d’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory and the known weapon of the legendary Briton, King Arthur of Camelot, and to the exclusion of any replica or substitute sword, which might falsely bear the name Excalibur or its likeness.’”

  Hermione said, “Well, actually quite a lot of historians think that Arthur was in fact a real person and became king after the Romans left Britain. However, I’m sure a lot of the story is just a tall tale.”

  Dufus sniffed, “True person or not, the sword is not known to exist. There is no evidence that Grumblesnore possessed it or any other sword, for that matter. Though, even if he did, ownership of such a vitally historic artifact would likely be contested.”

  Harry said, “Cool, I’m the owner of a legendary sword!”

  Ron congratulated Harry with a high five.

  The minister added, “Elvis has also left you one other item.” He handed Harry the small parcel. Harry proceeded to open the box. He pulled forth an item wrapped in layers of newspaper. He unwrapped the object, finally revealing it to be a glass snow globe. Inside was a small plastic figure of Elvis dressed in black leather and holding a guitar.

  Harry read the caption on its small pedestal out loud, “I’m All Shook Up.” Then he noticed there was something floating inside the globe, something brown, hairy and gross-looking. He said, “Ewwwww! What is that? It looks like a hairball!”

  Dimeeyore answered, “That would be my guess, too.” He added
, “Sign here, please. And, … your notice.”

  Once the Minister had received signed papers from all three, and had in turn provided signed statements regarding the property that would not be distributed, he was finished. He placed his documents in his briefcase and took it up. He grabbed his hat, and he said his goodbyes, first to the three teenagers, then to everyone in the dining room.

  Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in Mr. Cheesley’s home office. They discussed what had just happened. What was the meaning of the items left for them – the blue suede shoes, the portrait Velvet Elvis, the book of children’s tales, and the glass snow globe? Did they have anything in common? What about the things that they received, but did not receive? Why did Grumblesnore leave Ellis Island, The Moaning Lisa, and Excalibur to them in his will? The only conclusion they came to was Grumblesnore must somehow be leaving them a message from beyond the grave. What was the message? That was the mystery.

  Mrs. Cheesley came to the office and asked the three to rejoin the others in the dining room. Shortly afterward, it was birthday present time. Mr. and Mrs. Cheesley gave Harry a pager. Arthur said, “It’s from the Department of Muddle Artifacts. When someone calls you on the telephone, the pager goes off alerting you that you have a call. That way, you don’t have to wait by the phone all day when you are expecting a call. Isn’t it ingenious?”

  The teen wizard said he was thrilled.

  Hermione gave Harry an invisible electric guitar. At first, he thought it was a gag gift, an ‘air’ guitar. However, it was an actual guitar, only invisible. So when he plays ‘air’ guitar, he can really rock out. Harry loved it.

  Harry was also touched and amused to be given a book from Ron, written by Ron, How to Stop Dating my Sister. He was supposed to have stopped seeing Ginny years ago. But if she kept trying to kiss him, how could he help it? Maybe Ron’s book would somehow prove useful.

  Chapter 5 – The Wedding Crashers

  Friday night, the evening before the wedding, at Bill and Flour’s rehearsal dinner, Ron stood up and tapped his wand against his glass. He announced, “If I may have your attention for a moment, I’d like to …”

  Percy abruptly stood and loudly interrupted, “Introduce, my brother, Percy, who will make the first toast!”

  “Hey, it was my idea!” Ron asked, “Why do you get the first turn?”

  Percy answered, “Because I’m older. We’ll take turns in order, oldest to stupidest.”

  Greg, George, Fred, all nodded agreement at first. However, in order of stupidity, they realized their mistake and respectively scowled, frowned, and shook their head in disagreement.”

  Ron asked, “Why can’t we go in order, stupidest to oldest? Uh, I mean, oldest to youngest. D’oh! I mean… darn, I never get the first turn.” He plopped down in his chair and waited for his chance. Long before that, the show started.

  The affair was at Molokai Munchies Hawaiian Restaurant and Luau, a traditional Hawaiian feast hall in downtown London. Years ago the restaurant had been a smash success and the long table rows were filled to capacity nightly. No more. The place was on the verge of bankruptcy and was cutting corners and employees regularly. The featured program, Huluali'i’s Hula Hula Show, once featured true Hawaiian masters of their dance. The entertainment was now called Julio’s Hula Hula Show and featured truly amateur Hispanic dancers pretending they were Hawaiian.

  That evening, the Cheesleys had the place to themselves, though it was not planned so. It just happened to be an even slower night than usual. Only the Cheesley family and their many close friends were there.

  The food in general was terrible. However, Harry particularly liked the Hawaiian sweet bread. It called to him, literally. Every time, just before he finished off a piece, the other slices on the platter began vying for his attention. They’d call out, “Ooh, Pick me, next! Me, Me, Me. Pick me!” It was enough to give him a headache.

  Harry was a morsel-tongue. He could talk to his food. It was a rather dull and unrewarding superpower, conferred to him accidently when Lord Moldyfart attacked him for the first time as a baby.

  Harry particularly did not like poi and he discovered that poi returned his disdain. When Harry announced, he didn’t care for it, it quite frankly told Harry, “What do you know? You’re a tasteless jerk!”

  Meanwhile, the large fancy Mai Tai and Piña Colada cocktails were all depressed and raving drunk. They spoke foolishly and with heavy slurs. Harry felt obliged to put them out of their misery by drinking them. After a while, his headache disappeared. After a while longer, all feeling in his head disappeared.

  When he woke early the following afternoon, he had a hangover. Someone was shaking him and his brain felt like it was rattling in his head. He opened blood-shot eyes and saw it was Mr. Cheesley, who was doing all the shaking, and he was saying something.

  Harry scolded, “Shhh!”

  Mr. Cheesley replied, “Drink it, Harry. It’s for your own good. Nurse Pomfrite mixed it herself. She says it will cure your hangover instantly.

  Harry leaned over the bed and barfed on Mr. Cheesley’s perfectly polished shoes.

  “Goodness, I don’t know where it all comes from. I would think your stomach would be empty by now,” said Mr. Cheesley.

  Harry took the hangover remedy and drank it to get the bad taste out of his mouth. He was not overly pleased with the taste of it, but anything was an improvement.

  He felt instantly well again. He said, “Wow! I feel so much better. Sorry about your shoes, Mr. C.”

  Arthur replied, “That’s quite all right, I’ll have them cleaned up in a wink. You, however, are going to need a bit more work.”

  Then he whispered, “And between you and me, you did a great job last night. You almost managed to do in one evening what I’ve been trying for months to accomplish. You had the bride-to-be in tears and she came this close to calling the whole wedding off! Had I known you didn’t like her either, perhaps we could have pooled our efforts and accomplished together what neither of us managed to do separately.”

  Harry confusedly asked, “What?”

  Arthur confided, “Girls like Flour are far too common. Bill is way too good for her. Really, he can do so much better. But don’t worry, I still have a trick or two left. With a little luck, I’ll still put an end to this before it’s too late. Maybe, you can try somehow to keep Bill from reassuring her. That might just be the icing on the cake.”

  Harry dumbly asked, “Huh?”

  Arthur whispered, “That is, if you can think of something to keep him busy. Oh, never mind. Just, whatever you do, don’t apologize to the bride for what you did last night.”

  Then Mr. Cheesley spoke up and said, “And for heaven’s sake, get yourself cleaned up already! The wedding’s in an hour.”

  An hour and forty-five minutes later, Harry was clean, dressed, and sitting on a folding chair in the back yard at the Boil. He was hunched over to avoid the searing gazes of many of the other guests. Hermione was with him, however, she was busy talking with Rhomulus Loopin, Wrestlemania Trunks, and Looney Luvnoodle’s father, Xylophonius.

  Ron, however, was in the wedding party and so had spent the last two hours escorting guests to their seats and standing stiffly up front with his older brothers and the groom. They were waiting for the bride to come outside and be escorted down the aisle between the rows of guests. Everyone had been waiting and wondering what was taking so long.

  Then, there was a sudden stir among those in attendance. The bride had finally come out of the house. Everyone was whispering to each other, saying how beautiful Flour looked in her wedding dress. Many stood to get a better look or to take a picture.

  Mad Dog Hooty poked Harry from behind.

  Old Mad Dog Hooty was a former auditor with the Ministry of Magic. In his time, he was the craftiest Certified Public Accountant around. He could beguile anyone with talk of tax laws, credits, loopholes, and other financial talk. He was as tenacious as a mad dog. They said he never failed to dumbfound hi
s quarry, bring in their account, and prepare their financial statements and tax returns.

  He had retired a long time ago and now spent much of his day filling out crossword puzzles, while using a large magnifying glass attached to a headband. He had become so used to it, he regularly forgot it was even there and went out with it still in front of his one eye. It was quite effective in making him look crazy. Yet despite appearances, he was one of the most sane members of the Order of the Harry Putter Fan Club.

  He said, “Don’t worry about it, Putter. At some point in their life, everyone vomits on the...”

  That moment, the organist played the introductory notes to the wedding march. Mad Dog Hooty stopped mid-sentence and pulled out his wand. He had been in this situation many times. He was instantly more ready for a fight than those who where bringing it. He was ready seconds before they arrived. Just after the notes, “Here comes the bride,” were struck, his first spell took out the organ with jolts of electricity that ruined the instrument. There was a final hideous chord lingering in the air that sounded not unlike the loll of a slowly dying cow.

  Everyone was shocked, no one more than the poor organist, who was truly jolted by the nearby bolts of crackling electricity. Everyone’s mouth was agape. The already too emotionally-fragile bride stopped after only two steps down the aisle. Her pouting lip was trembling and her eyes were filling with tears.

  Harry could only wonder what made Hooty react so. It was the wedding march, for crying out loud, not “In-a-Godda-Da-Vida!”

  However, in the sudden silence, Harry heard it. It was a distant and minute sound. He heard the base notes and percussion of a rock song. The tempo matched the tempo of the legendary evil rock song. Though he could not hear the tune itself, the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck bristled and shivers went down his spine.