Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes (6 page)

            A moment later, as Harry turned the corner to walk up the platform stairs, a damp cloth suddenly clamped over his nose and mouth, while strong hands seized him roughly.  He felt his legs collapse under him and his last sight before blacking out was of Uncle Vermin, Aunt Hachooie, and Mudley Dirtley giving each other high fives.  Uncle Vermin held a rag and a bottle in his hand.  Mudley had an enormous suitcase, and Aunt Hachooie was holding a slice of pie.  “I thought he was on to me!  Who bakes a pie at six in the morning?” laughed Aunt Hachooie.

            Harry’s last thought was, “
p
…..pi….pie!  How ingenious!”

            During the long trip to Hogwashes, Ron, Ginny, Suzanne, and Hermione shared a train compartment. Ron knew instinctively the situation was all wrong.  It was against the unwritten code for a teenage boy to hang out with girls, especially sisters.  Hermione’s cat, Croakshanks, was nestled in her lap.  Ron’s pet squid, Nemoy, was squirming its ten tentacles around Ron. As students passed by their compartment, they glanced in through the window, and were obviously excited about their discovery.  Ron’s ears were ringing.  He knew that he was going to hear comments later, and was getting in a bad mood just anticipating the ribbing he would have to face. 

            The truth was, Hermione and he were friends, but the bigger truth was that they were both friends of Harry’s.  Could they remain friends without Harry?  He knew that others would start calling Hermione his girlfriend, probably later that day.  That would be embarrassing; Hermione was as big a nerd as they came.  She had to hang out with Harry and Ron because the girls wouldn’t accept her into their fold, not even the other girl Nerds. 

            What’s worse, how would he ever find a girlfriend, if she were around?  Ron felt very self aware now that the fragile dynamic was broken.  He wondered if there were any other Nerds he could hang out with, and if he started to hang out with other Nerds, would Hermione’s feeling be hurt?  Of course they would.  He couldn’t do that to her, she’d have no friends. 

            His mood worsened as he thought about his predicament.  It made him unconsciously argumentative, and he wasn’t in a place where he could win arguments.  Furthermore, losing argument after argument only worsened his mood, making him snappish.

            Ron and Hermione argued about anything and everything.  Ron argued from the pit of his belly, entirely based on his feelings.  Hermione’s arguments were irrefutably based on logic.  Ginny stuck a barb into Ron whenever the opportunity presented itself.  Suzanne usually just laughed or inserted her own silly comments, which were mostly ignored. 

            Ron tried talking about subjective topics, to avoid losing, for everyone is entitled to their opinion.  However, Hermione was able to show him that even his opinions were usually wrong. 

            They argued about their duties as Perfects.  The Perfects were the Hogwashes hall monitors.  Their job was to keep the other kids from running in the hall, fighting in the hall, smoking in the halls, kissing in the halls, or starting food fights in the Great Eatery.  That last one was added after the epic food fight in the Great Eatery last year.  Most of the other kids referred to the Perfects as either Mr. Perfect or Ms. Perfect according to gender.  Ron and Hermione were both Perfects, and did their best to set a good example to the other students, by not breaking any of the rules.  Harry, of course, could never be a Perfect; he broke all the rules.  Ron and Hermione could have written him up for hundreds of incidents, but never did. 

            They argued about Free-Elves.  Hermione had long held the opinion that Free-Elves sapped a small amount of power from their masters, and provided very little in return, especially if one was to take excellent care of their own magical equipment, which she always did.  Elves were her pet peeve, especially since she was always being bothered by elves who wanted to serve her.  (She had excellent magical powers.)  Some elves even pretended to be in danger.  They would try to trick her into “saving” their lives, thereby hoping to force their unwanted service upon her.  She seemed very callous at times when an elf would be, for example, “drowning” in the nearby Jell-O, and she wouldn’t even lift a spoon to save them.  Ron always felt bad for them, and tried to save them, which would make them snap and growl at him, or abberate in order to avoid him all together. 

            She also felt that using Elves was wrong whether they were Free-Elves or not.  She felt that it would be better to pay elves for their services, if one really desired them.  Three years ago, she formed the OSPREE Club, also known as the Only Stupid People Rely on Elven Exploitation Club.  Even Harry and Ron didn’t join that one, and they didn’t even have Elven servants.  Heck, even the elves wouldn’t join; they snubbed their noses at the idea of their noble service being paid for in coin.  In reality, she would have been far happier if she just accepted a Free-Elf’s service.  If she did, no other Elves would bother her, and she wouldn’t even notice the small difference in her magical powers.

            They especially argued about Harry not coming to school.  Ron couldn’t get past how much he was going to miss Harry.  With Harry, school was always exciting.  Being friends with Harry, who was always in the spotlight, Ron got to share a little bit of the spotlight, too.  He felt special.  He thought aloud, “It’s like you, me, and Harry were a shiny new tricycle, each of us one wheel.”

            Hermione replied, “Well, think of us as a bicycle now!  A bicycle is much smarter than a tricycle!  It’s more grown up.  School is going to be great this year, think of all you will learn, especially without all the distractions that Harry always made.  I’ll bet your grades will go up considerably this year.”

            Ron disagreed, “But it’s not like a bicycle, it’s like a tricycle without one wheel.  We’ll be missing an important part of what made us a great team.  You were like the brains, I was the good-looking one, and Harry was …errr, …dynamic, you know?  He was like the big wheel with the pedals on it.  He made it all work.”

            Ginny and Suzanne started laughing, and couldn’t stop.  Suzanne didn’t even know why she was laughing, other than the fact that Ginny was laughing at Ron, so she should too.  It was a principle between brothers and sisters.

            Ginny imitated her brother, “Look at me, I’m the good looking one!”  Suzanne giggled.  Ron ignored them.

            Hermione bit her tongue, “Well, I think we can still be a great team, I’m still smart and you’re ….ummm….not any different.  We don’t need Harry to have a great year at Hogwashes.  Learning is exciting enough without adding his dramatics, – OOH, look at me, the Fart Lord is after me, he wants to kill me.”

            Hermione was getting annoyed with Ron; he was so immature at times.  Just look at the immature garbage he had bought when the refreshment cart had come by, – chocolate slugs, Yu-Gi-Oh! cards, and Every-Witch-Way beans.  It was the same crap he bought the past five years, six if you counted preschool.  He had already stuffed five of the chocolate slugs in his face.  Two, ok, but five?  Gross.  Sometimes she wished he would grow up.  He didn’t seem the least bit interested in girls.

            Likewise, Ron was annoyed.  Hermione was practically talking badly about Harry.  Some fan she was!  He decided to lead her down a different path.  “Well, what I really think is that his staying home is really just a cry for…”

            Just then they both turned to the door.  From outside their compartment, they heard a tiny, distant, and muffled cry, “Help, Help!”

            Hermione replied, “Nonsense, Harry will be safest at home.  And from what he said, he’s had the best summer of his life.” 

            Ron retorted, “Being home, isn’t like being on ‘base’ in a game of tag.  He might be in just as much danger there, possibly more since we won’t be there to…”

            “Help, Help!” the muffled cry got a little louder, causing Ron to look at the window in the train compartment door.  Hermione, Ginny, and Suzanne all followed his gaze.  The cry for help was getting even louder, and then Faco Maldoy crossed their window view.  He was heading toward the back of the train.  He appeared to be dragging something rather heavy, walking backwards as he dragged it. 

            Faco Maldoy was the son of Luscious Maldoy, the same Luscious Maldoy who was Chairman of the Board of Education at Hogwashes, the same Luscious Maldoy who lost his Free-Elf servant Bobby, thanks to Harry.  What’s more, Luscious Maldoy was one of the Fungus Eaters.  The Fungus Eaters were a group of evil supporters of Lord Moldyfart, and Luscious Maldoy was one of their highest-ranking members.  He was the one who had conceived the plot to lure Harry to the circus where his uncle was, in order to trap him, and turn him over to Lord Moldyfart.  His involvement in setting the trap last spring had compromised him.  Finally, the Harry Putter Fan Club had the evidence they needed that Luscious was indeed a Fungus Eater, as they all had long suspected. 

            More importantly, the Ministry of Magic authorities had the evidence they needed to prosecute Maldoy and the other Fungus Eaters for the murder of Serious Smack the Clown.  Consequently, Luscious Maldoy, as well as a number of other identified Fungus Eaters, were on the run from the Ministry of Magic, and in hiding.  They of course blamed their situation on Harry Putter.

            Faco Maldoy was of course a Popular Rich Kid.  He was tall, handsome, with an athletic body, and blonde down to his brain.  Faco was in the same year of school as Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and in many of their classes.  He was also a Perfect, which gave him a smug satisfaction.  He was one, while Harry was not.

            Harry and Faco had clashed ever since their second day of preschool, six years ago.  It was “show and tell” day.  While all the other kids brought in their favorite, cool, and in some cases very expensive toys, Harry had brought in his dust-bunny collection.  Hermione remembered Faco’s derisive words to this day, “What’s the matter with you Putter?  Don’t you have any real toys?”  She quietly kept her mold collection in her backpack, and said she had forgotten her “show and tell.”

            Since then, Faco was a constant adversary of theirs, although their spats with him were minor when compared to the life and death struggles they had so far with his father and Lord Moldyfart. 

            If Faco had any secret contact with his father since last spring, he was likely to know about all of the students who helped Harry defeat Faco’s father and the rest of the Fungus Eaters.  He would most likely attempt to exact some form of retribution as revenge on Ron, Hermione, Neville, Looney, and Ginny.  He also wouldn’t be alone in his efforts.  He often consorted with two brainless but muscular goons, Shabby and Foil, each of whose fathers were Fungus Eaters and likewise on the run from Ministry authorities.

            “Oh, no, it’s Maldoy!” said Ron.  He was suddenly nervous; his proximity to Harry had long been the source of his safety from Maldoy and his bullies.  What was he going to do without Harry around this year to protect him?  He’d have to avoid confronting Faco for as long as possible, and hope that the bullies would bother someone else.

            “Help, Help!” called the muffled voice.

            “For Pete’s sake!  Give him a hand with the door, Ron!” said Hermione.

            “I don’t see why I should, except that I won’t have to look at him as long,” said Ron, getting up, trying to sound like he wasn’t intimidated, and failing miserably as his voice cracked.

            “Here, hold this,” Ron held Nemoy out to Hermione.

            “No!  NO!  I mean it Ron, get that thing away from me.”

            Ron sighed, went into the hallway, and held open the door for Faco as he wheeled a humongous suitcase onto the next train car.  He wondered why Faco was moving his own luggage; usually the Popular Rich Kids had servants to move their luggage for them.  Thank God, Shabby and Foil weren’t around.

            Faco glanced at Ron and did a double take.  “Ewwwww, what’s that thing?”

            “Huh?  Oh, you mean Nemoy?  He’s my pet squid,” replied Ron.

            “Cheesley you are one sick freak.  You better not get any of that slime on me if you know what’s good for you.”

            “Help, Help!” came the muffled cry from the suitcase.

            “I don’t think that should be too hard.”

            “You do and I’ll have Shabby and Foil rearrange your face.  When they get through with you, no one will know the difference between you and that ugly octopus.”

            “Yeah, nice to see you again too, Faco.  You haven’t lost any of your charm, I see.”

            “Shut your mouth, slimeball.”

            “Shut yours, …”  Ron’s retort was cut short when one of Nemoy’s tentacles suddenly curled into his mouth.  Ron let go of the door to remove it.  Faco was repulsed.

            “Uuuuuck,” said Ron, wiping his tongue off on the sleeve of his robe.

            Ron returned to his compartment saying, “Furthermore, … wait a sec, was that Harry’s voice coming from that suitcase?”

            “Harry, here?  We left him back at the station,” Hermione sniffed.

            “Hermione, come quick!” shouted Ron dashing out of the compartment.  Hermione was right behind him, Ginny and Suzanne in tow.

            They ran through the train cars and quickly caught up to Faco moving his large burden.  “All right, Maldoy, open the suitcase!” commanded Ron, trying to sound confident.

            Faco looked up at Cheesley and his entourage, “Still hanging out with the other girls, Cheesley?”

            “I mean it, open that suitcase, now!”

            “Get lost, Cheesley, mind your own business,” replied Maldoy sounding a lot more commanding than Ron.

            “Cripes, Ron, is that you?” came the muffled voice of Harry from inside the suitcase.