Harry Putter & the Deathly Hairballs

by O'Donnell, Timothy R.

  “Shucks, Lady, but I’m no king.”

  The Lady of the Pond replied, “Well, then, never mind.”

  And she bid Sir Ronald Cheesley farewell and was turning to depart, when Harry spoke up. He cleared his throat and said, “I’ll give you what gift you, I mean, ye, what gift you, err, thee, ask!”

  The damsel said, “You speak graciously, but art thou a king?”

  Harry was feeling quite regal, perhaps it was the sneakers. He replied, “But, of course, you may call me, Harry, King Putter of the Britons.”

  “And when I see my time and come to you anon to ask my gift, you will give what I ask ye?”

  King Harry replied, “Ask what ye will and ye shall have it, and it lie in my power to give it.”

  “Well said,” answered the damsel, “go ye into yonder pond to the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time.”

  Harry stepped to the snowy edge of the pond’s fair water. He realized the pool must be nearly freezing. He did not care very much for the idea of wading in such cold water. He looked for another way. He pulled out his wand. He didn’t think it would work, but he tried anyway. He said our proud sponsor’s magic words, “Hess Premium Gasoline, Sword!” However, the white-sleeved arm did not move and the hand continued to grasp the sword.

  The only way to get it, Harry knew, was to go in and retrieve it. He gritted his teeth and stepped into the ice cold water. The pond was not too deep. The water was only to his knees when he stood beside the arm and sword. However, his lower legs ached and were so cold it felt like they were burning. He could never be one of those human “polar bears,” plunging themselves into the January ocean. His teeth were already chattering.

  As his hands closed around the hilt, the light-up shoes suddenly sent a burst of electricity into Harry's feet. Electricity crackled as it coursed through Harry’s body and shot from his hand to the sword. Harry felt sure he was about to die of electrocution.

  The Lady of the Pond called out, “Liar! Thou art no king! The sword Excalibur knows it well! Ware it smites thee for thy sin! The hand that clasps it will not let go for any but a true king.”

  Ron saw immediately his best friend’s predicament. He was either very brave or very foolish when he clenched his teeth and ran into the pond to help. The water burned it was so cold. It conducted electricity very efficiently and so Ron immediately subjected himself to the same jolts Harry suffered. Yet, he would not let that deter him from coming to the rescue of his best friend. He pushed forward, ignoring the pain and the spasms of his muscles as electrical energy coursed through his body. He struggled to maintain his balance on legs that were not completely under his control and responding unnaturally to his brain’s guidance.

  He attained Harry’s side and immediately grabbed the sword. Ron took the sword and scabbard from the hand that held it. He wrenched the bright silver blade from its sheath. He could not help but notice the sword glowed with white light and white fire. And he felt a sense of purpose in that weapon. It was a powerful magic sword that exemplified all that was good and just.

  Ron knew immediately what he had to do. He could see the sneakers now for what they were. The light-ups were evil. They emanated an aura of evil. It was radiating from then in a manner that was not visible, yet he could somehow sense the presence of their malevolence as never before. They had to be destroyed immediately and he had no misgivings about their destruction. Something that evil deserved to die.

  However, he hesitated with a sudden realization. The sneakers were still on Harry’s feet. To use the sword upon them would also harm and maybe even cripple his friend. Yet the evil sneakers were killing them both with crackling jolts of electrical energy. The sneakers must die! Ron had to kill them even if it meant harming his best friend to do it. Surely, it is better to live without feet, than to die with them.

  Suddenly, the jolts of electricity stopped and Harry’s foot kicked out at Ron, catching him in the groin. There was a distinct snapping noise.

  Ron hunched over clutching at himself and crossing his eyes. He said, “Ow, I think that broke my wand.”

  Harry gasped, stunned for moment. When he recovered, he called out, “Oh my God! I’m so sorry, Ron! It was the sneakers, not me!”

  A deep malicious voice resonated in the air nearby. It was the voice from inside Ron’s head, only now it was outside his head. It said, “Lies! He’s lying to you, Ron. He hates you. He’s jealous of you. It was Harry that kicked you in the family jewels! They’re the best sneakers in the world, they’d never do that to you! They love you, and you love them.”

  Ron was bewildered and still hunched over in pain. He answered the voice outside his head, “I might have believed you, if you hadn’t said that out loud.”

  The deep malignant voice audibly winced, “D’oh!”

  Harry took a wild kick at Ron. He lifted his leg so high, he fell over, splashing in the frigid water.

  Harry’s head rose from below the surface. He spluttered and called, “Ron, pull me out, I think the sneakers are trying to drown me!” His feet jerked upward again and his head went back underwater.

  The voice spoke to Ron’s deepest fears. It said, “I’ve walked a mile in your shoes, Ron Cheesley! I know you! From the tip of your toes, to the bottom of your ankles! And your soles are mine!”

  There was an evil laugh.

  Ron could not help it, he listened horrified.

  The light-ups continued, “I can make all your dreams come true, Cheesley! The sneakers can be all yours – you won’t have to share with anyone! I will make you a hero and a king! I can make Hermione love you again. Use the sword! Kill Harry! If you don’t, I’ll make your every worst nightmare a reality!”

  Again, there was evil laughter.

  Ron didn’t know what to do. He listened with an expression of deep anguish on his face. Harry put his hands behind him and pushed his head and shoulders back out of the water. He gasped for air. His feet were still held up high above him.

  Meanwhile, the sneaker’s voice said, “Already, Hermione loves Harry and not you. You are history to her. She is glad you left. Like a spider, she’s got him all wrapped-up in her little web. She’s even kissed him on the mouth.”

  Ron looked to Harry to either confirm or deny it.

  Harry spluttered and said, “It’s not like that. She saved my life. She kissed me because she was so glad I lived.”

  Ron yelped. He had not expected Harry to confirm what the sneakers said. Ron still liked Hermione and wanted her to be his girlfriend again. Harry knew that. How could he kiss her? Ron felt so betrayed.

  Harry suddenly flipped over, his feet were sticking out of the water again and his face went back under.

  The sneakers said, “Don’t listen to him. He’s not your friend, Ron. He’s a backstabber. Now stab him back! Otherwise, on the next plane ride you take, I’ll make the movie be Maximum Overdrive! And you’ll be so bored that you’ll watch the whole thing without sound.”

  Yet again, there was evil laughter.

  Ron’s eyes went wide when the voice continued, “And next Christmas, I’ll make you sit on Santa’s lap again!”

  Harry forced his feet back down into the water. The L.A. Gear, which was laughing evilly, wheezed, and then had a coughing fit. Putter lifted his head and called out, “Help me, Ron!”

  However, his feet quickly shot back up out of the water, and his head went under again.

  Ron hesitated as the sneakers recovered from their coughing episode. They yelled, “Gah! Too much water under my tongue! Quickly Ron, use the sword! Kill Harry while his back is turned to you. Do it now, while you don’t have to look at his face. If you don’t, you’ll never be the true hero of this story but only a subordinate character – a mere side kick, who’s only good for a laugh. Speaking of which…”

  The voice of the shoes laughed with malignant delight.

  They continued, “And, I will have your mother make the ‘Great Zucchini Experim
ent’ for dinner again.”

  Ron’s tongue stuck out of his mouth. He cringed with a look of disgust.

  The light-ups laughed until they wheezed again.

  “And there will be more very long words in your life, such as, ‘Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia,’ otherwise known as, ‘fear of big words.’”

  Ron shuddered and said, “Yikes, I’ll never remember all that!”

  Harry pushed his head up and his feet back under the water. The light-ups coughed loudly instead of laughing.

  Harry gasped for air and cried out weakly to his friend, “Help… Ron... I’m… drowning!”

  Ron was terrified. However, before he could do anything, the L.A. Gear spun Harry around again. The teenager was now on his back again with his feet high in the air. Harry’s head was underwater and he was thrashing.

  The footwear spluttered angrily, “Now Cheesley! Kill him or I’ll make the squirrels come and get you!”

  Ron shuddered and said, “Ahh! Not the squirrels!”

  Harry drove his feet back down to the bottom of the pond and his head popped back up. He greedily gulped at air and coughed up water.

  The disembodied voice was coughing and wheezing too. Harry struggled while holding his feet down on the bottom of the pond. There was a choking and gagging noise, almost like someone dying.

  Meanwhile, Ron was paralyzed by fear. All his secret thoughts were being voiced aloud by the light-up shoes. While Ron just stood there terrified, there was a tiny surge of electricity and two small popping noises in rapid succession, followed immediately by two plumes of smoke rising from the water just over Harry’s feet.

  And then there was silence. No more thrashing. No deep evil voice, no laughter, no coughing or wheezing. The shoes had shorted-out from the pond water. They were ruined. They released the fragments of the evil soul that resided within them.

  In frustration, Ron called out, “NO!” He plunged the sword, Excalibur, into the water, into the light-up sneaker, and into Harry’s foot.

  Harry screamed in pain!

  Hermione was already in a sour mood. She had not had a chance to wear the light-up sneakers since noon. Harry had been gone for hours in a snow storm and now it was dark out. She was worried about the sneakers and wondered where he was. She wondered if he was out there somewhere inconsiderately lying in the snow, perhaps he was even dying. He left without a word to say where he was going, without even a word of goodbye, telling her that he was leaving. He just vanished. Her stomach was upset from worrying so much.

  When she heard his weak voice coming from outside the tent, she rushed to open up the entrance flap.

  She gasped, “Ron! Oh my God! Please tell me you weren’t followed back here!” She looked behind him, but it was too dark to see anything.

  He replied, “Uh, I don’t think I was.”

  Hermione scolded, “For your sake, I hope not.”

  She held the flap as the two boys limped into the tent. Ron was supporting Harry’s side. Cheesley had the sword Excalibur sheathed in its scabbard, attached to his waist. Hermione was glad Harry was finally back. However, she was upset to see Ron again. She was angry at him for abandoning them in the first place. Some friend he was!

  She was annoyed he was back too, because that meant he’d want his turns in the rotation of sharing the light-up sneakers. She had gotten quite used to sharing less, and did not relish the idea of having shorter turns and more time waiting for her next chance to wear them.

  She finally noticed Harry’s foot and exclaimed, “Oh, NO! Are the sneakers alright?”

  When she found out the light-ups were destroyed, she went ballistic. She cursed enough to make a sailor blush, and even used a few select terms Harry didn’t quite understand and wasn’t about to ask her to explain.

  She was especially mad at Ron for letting the sneakers get destroyed.

  Ron retorted, “But I wasn’t even wearing them! It’s all Harry’s fault!”

  Meanwhile Harry plunked his wet shivering body down in front of the wood stove. He opened the iron door in front and tossed in two pieces of wood.

  Hermione spent several minutes making a special poultice of Knotweed and salt for Harry’s foot. She applied it liberally and then wrapped it up in a bandage.

  Harry complained that the concoction stung his injury terribly.

  Hermione answered, “Good, that means it’s working. Get out of those wet clothes or you’ll never warm up.”

  Meanwhile, Ron discovered Harry’s or the sneaker’s kick had indeed snapped his wand. He asked, “Hermione, do you still have my backup wands?”

  She crabbily replied, “What do you think? Of course, they’re in the bag, simpleton.”

  Ron pulled out a present and unwrapped it. The box had originally held five wands. There were two left. He took one out and placed it in his robe pocket. Then he put the box back in the sack.

  Later, as they were all eating dinner, Ron and Harry told her about their adventure – meeting the Lady of the Pond and battling the evilly possessed sneakers.

  Hermione gasped suddenly when she realized something from their rendition of the events. She exclaimed, “Ron, you were able to take the sword, Excalibur! Do you know what that means?”

  “Yeah, it means I’ve got to give the Lady of the Pond her gift whenever she decides what it is she wants.”

  Hermione sighed.

  Ron tried again, “It means Harry can use the sword to destroy the hoaxcrocks?”

  Hermione answered, “Harry doesn’t need the sword to destroy the hoaxcrocks! That would be dumb if he did. Items don’t become virtually indestructible just because they contain a fragment of someone’s soul, just like we aren’t indestructible, even when we have our entire soul. Besides, while you were gone, Harry and I destroyed a bunch of them.

  Furthermore, it would be way too convenient and contrived if something like that happened to be in a nearby pond and showed up just when we needed it. It’d almost be like pulling it out of a magic hat. Heck, I don’t even know why we need the sword. What it means, Ron, is you’re a king! Only a king could have gotten the sword! So, at what age do you inherit your kingdom? When you’re 18? 21?” What country is it?”

  “Hermione, don’t be silly. I ain’t a king.”

  She whispered furtively, “Don’t worry, I can keep it a secret.”

  Ron turned to Harry, “Tell her, Harry, I ain’t a king.”

  Harry laughed and said, “I don’t know, Ron, maybe you are and just don’t know it.”

  Hermione suddenly began to scold Harry. She blamed him for ruining the light-up sneakers. She cried out, “It was so stupid of you to wear them in the water. Why didn’t you take them off first?”

  Harry shrugged and said, “It was cold out, I just couldn’t go in barefoot.”

  Hermione said, “You’re a butt-headed idiot. You could have returned from the cold water to warm dry sneakers. You should have known better.”

  Ron changed the subject. He said, “Hey, guess what I found out while I was home? Oldyfart May has a hex placed on his name. Whoever says it out loud, their location becomes instantly known to him. He can send his Fungus Eaters to teach them their lesson. And I suppose, that’s probably how they found us at Grim Old Place so fast.”

  Harry asked, “You can’t be serious?”

  Ron replied, “I swear it’s true. My mum told me so.”

  “That’s so dumb! Hermione, did you happen to pack my new laptop?”

  She reached into Santa’s sack and pulled out a present, while saying, “Of course, dimwit. You know I did.”

  Harry unwrapped his laptop and said, “It’s just what I wanted!”

  He logged in and went online to the Facebook site. He said, “This ought to give him a headache.”

  He left a message for all his fans, asking them to start chanting Moldyfart’s name. Then he logged out and shutdown.

  Not long afterward, he began to feel the pain of his scar slowly building up with Moldyfart’s rage
. Within two hours, the taboo was lifted and Harry felt the pain begin to fade.

  Two weeks later, Hermione announced that she has finally figured out why Grumblesnore left her the book, The Drunken Tales of Beadie the Blowhard. She read them one of the stories within, “The Three Bad Kittens.”

  Chapter 13 – The Three Bad Kittens

  Three bad kittens, one stormy night,

  began to quarrel, and then to fight.

  One had a mouse, the others had none,

  and shortly after the fighting begun.

  "I'll have that mouse," said the biggest cat.

  "You? Steal my mouse? We'll just see about that!"

  "I will have that mouse," said the eldest son.

  "Over our dead bodies," said the two smaller ones.

  Enough was enough, they began to fight,

  to hiss and spit, to scratch and bite.

  The old woman had enough. She seized her broom,

  and swept the bad kittens right out of the room.

  As she swept kittens, the old woman gruffly said:

  "Hairballs on the floor, hairballs on the bedspread,

  hairballs on the sofa, hairballs on the chair.

  Even in the lasagna, there's hairballs everywhere!”

  Hairballs on the carpet! Even one on that dead mouse!

  You live and eat and breathe hairballs, when cats live in your house.

  Hairballs on my dresses, hairballs on my best coat,

  I hope the next hairball you cack up, gets stuck in your throat!

  Get out, you stupid kittens! Get out, you disgusting cats!

  Take your hairballs with you, and that's the end of that!