Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes (11 page)

            Ape slapped the desk in front of him to get their attention.

            “Let me make myself clear.  Under no circumstances, should any of you attempt to find this Chamber of Cheesecakes!  It is far too dangerous.  And that goes double for you, Putter!”

            Elvis Grumblesnore walked into Poisons class a moment before the gong rang signaling that class was over.  He looked at Harry and said, “I’d like to have a word with you, Harry, if I may?”

            “Sure,” said Harry, happy for any excuse that would get him out of doing yoga with Ape.  Grumblesnore led Harry to his office and held back the bead curtain for Harry to enter.

            Inside Grumblesnore’s office, Harry’s eyes raced from one interesting artifact to the next.  The walls were covered with gold records.  There was a glamorous black leather outfit including sunglasses in a glass class on the wall behind Grumblesnore’s desk.  There was a white outfit with sequins and a cape on an Elvis mannequin.  It had plastic lei garlands around the neck.  There was an acoustic guitar on a stand in the corner, next to ancient-looking microphone on a stand.

            On the desk, there was a metal colander, a half-eaten peanut butter and banana sandwich, and Elvis’s pet rock, Raukes.  Elvis was fond of saying “Raukes Rocks!”

            An elf was hard at work washing the windows.  It turned to look at Harry for a second, but didn’t greet him.  It was Bobby.  Bobby was pretending not to know Harry in front of Grumblesnore.  Harry wondered about this.  Why would Bobby hide his pretense of friendship with Harry from Grumblesnore?  Bobby was afraid of something, but what?  Was he afraid Grumblesnore would find out about Bobby’s hatred for Harry?

            Grumblesnore asked Harry to sit, then walked behind his desk and sat down in his own chair.  He picked up the colander from the desk, and placed it inverted on his own head.  Harry was already familiar with Grumblesnore’s magical colander.  It had a triple purpose; it improved Grumblesnore’s memory, it kept extra-terrestrials from reading his mind, and of course, it could be used in the traditional way, to strain pasta.

            “Well, Harry, welcome back,” began Elvis.  “I hope you had a nice summer.  Feeling any better about your deceased uncle?”

            Harry felt a sudden pang and stuttered, “I-I-I think about him all the time.  Everything reminds me of him.”

            “That’s quite normal.  It takes time to get over these things.  Time will heal your wounds Harry.  The key is to stay busy.  Busy doing good things, like studying, playing quibbage, and practicing your yoga.”

            Harry eyed the unfinished peanut butter and banana sandwich on the desk.  He sighed, “Must I continue with yoga?  It isn’t working, I’m no good at it.”

            “He who masters yoga, masters himself.  If it were only possible, I would have you practicing yoga twelve hours each day.  However, since it isn’t, I want you to continue to train everyday with Professor Ape after class, and I want you to practice what he teaches you each night before you go to bed.  Or, if you prefer, we could try Ritalin?”

            Harry slumped back in his chair.  “No, thanks.” 

            He continued to eye the half-eaten sandwich on Grumblesnore’s desk.  Harry had the feeling it knew something important.  What did it know?

            “I heard what Professor Ape said to you.  ‘Under no circumstances should you search for the Chamber of Cheesecakes.’  I have to agree with him, Harry.  You really must learn to keep your nose out of situations that are not your concern.  You’ve got enough on your plate already being the enemy of the Fart Lord.  You should leave the Chamber of Cheesecakes to me.” 

            Enough on his plate, enough on his plate.  Harry had been staring at the unfinished sandwich on the plate.  He looked up and said, “Huh?”

            “I mean it Harry.  It’s for your own good.  You’ve walked a very fine line in the past, and I’m sorry, but if you cross it this time, I’m afraid I’m going to have to expel you.”

            “Expel me!”

            “Yes, Harry, expel.  It’s time for you to grow up.  The rules apply to even you.  If you are caught outside your quarters after curfew, regretfully, that will be the end of your stay here.”       

            “What if there is an attempt on my life?  May I leave my quarters if someone is trying to kill me?”  His knee began to bounce up and down.  Harry just needed a distraction, any distraction, so that he could have a minute alone with that sandwich. 

            “Harry, calm down.  The Fart Lord cannot enter the school.  His fungus eaters are all on the run.  No one here is trying to kill you.  You are safe, safer than you would be at home.”

            “But just in case, someone is trying to talk to me, I mean, kill me…”  Harry couldn’t take his eyes off the sandwich.  Beads of perspiration broke out on his brow.  He was losing control.

            “Please stop looking for loopholes.  Is there someone else trying to kill you?”

            It was Harry’s big chance.  Whenever an opportunity to ask for help came, Harry never took it.  The most recent was last spring, if he had asked Ape for help, perhaps his uncle, Serious Smack the Clown, would still be alive.  Perhaps all the Fungus Eaters would have been arrested instead of escaping.  Now was his big chance, he could tell Grumblesnore about the conspiracy to kill him, he could prove it, all he had to do was show Grumblesnore the official Hogwashes notice that school had been canceled.

            Harry replied, “No.”  He barely knew what he was saying, all he could think about was the sandwich and what important information it knew. 

            “Well then, isn’t that question rather moot?”

            Harry couldn’t stop himself, he began talking to the sandwich in morsel-tongue.  “Hey, sandwich, wake up!  Tell me what you know!”

            Grumblesnore’s eyes widened.  He couldn’t understand what Harry was saying, but he knew what was happening.  He grabbed the remaining half of his peanut butter and banana sandwich and without a word, crammed the entire thing in his mouth.

            Over the next month, everyone was trying to find out who the Heir of the Err of Slipperin was.  Everyone was on the lookout for the cookbook containing cheesecake recipes, but none was found. 

            Harry was convinced that it had to be Faco Maldoy.  It all made sense.  Faco was stupid, just like Simpleton Slipperin; therefore, he had to be the Heir of the Err.  It had long been a principle of Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s to pin any wrongdoing or bad situation on their enemy, Maldoy, whether guilty or not, especially if there was even the remotest chance of getting Faco in trouble.  It would be especially satisfying if Faco turned out to be a direct descendent of the Err of Slipperin.  However, the truth was completely unnecessary to their way of thinking. 

            Yet, even Maldoy wasn’t stupid enough to openly admit that he was the direct descendent of a moron.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione needed a way to find out.  However, a way to find out eluded them.

            Quite similarly, many of his fellow students suspected Harry was the Heir to the Err.  This Harry fervently denied, though inwardly, he wondered if it really could be himself.  Tom Riddly was the Heir of Slipperin after all.  If his enemy was the Heir of Slipperin, wouldn’t it make sense if he were the Heir of the Err?  He hoped not.  If they ever held a family reunion, it sure would be awkward.

            During this time, there had been four cheesecake incidents.  All involved a student randomly coming across a cheesecake buying opportunity.  A cheesecake vending machine would appear in some lonely corridor.  The student would insert their twelve galleys to make their purchase.  (Every student and teacher carried at least twelve galleys in case they were blessed with such an opportunity.  Some carried as much as 144 galleys around with them, ready to buy a dozen such cheesecakes.)  Each student then selected his or her favorite cheesecake. 

            Students licked their lips as the variety was described to them.  First, there was the steadfast classic, – plain cheesecake.  It was by itself truly scrumptious without adding other flavors to the experience.  There was strawberry cheesecake, topped with real fresh strawberries in a strawberry glaze.  There was sinful Belgian chocolate.  There was luscious caramel cheesecake, gooey and sweet.  Finally, there was succulent raspberry truffle.  All in all, there were five magnificent kinds. 

            Each victim, as though in a daze, took the box from the vending machine and carefully opened it, just to see what it looked like, mind you.  They had every intention of buying several more, sharing them with others, selling slices at a huge profit, using a fork and plate, and turning a piece in to Professor McGooglesnot for all those House Cup points.  (She had raised her offer to two thousand points.)  All their plans were dashed when each, carefully took a pinch, just to try it, mind you.  However, no one could recall exactly what came over them or what happened next, though it was obvious to all.  They simple went out of their minds, scooping up handfuls of the cheesecake, or plowing their faces directly into their purchase until only crumbs remained, if that. 

            Each victim was found later by some passerby.  The insidious vending machine would be long gone.  All that would remain would be the prostrate victim lying next to a box holding an empty pie tin.  The passerby invariably snarfed up any loose crumbs, then called for help.  Such good Samaritans that were unlucky enough to find a crumb, suffered doubly, for only they truly knew exactly what they were missing.  Consequently, they became the most obsessed about finding cheesecake.

            Like Belch, all four victims were still in the hospital ward.  At first, they were incapacitated with fullness of stomach.  A day later, they were unable to eat anything that wasn’t cheesecake.  They were driven to tears at the thought of eating anything else ever again, especially anything prepared by Henry, the head Kitchen-Elf.  They would have wasted away, if not fed intravenously.

            Ever since the first attempt on his life, Harry had continued to make a dummy in his bed at night.  However, his pillow had been shredded, as well as an assortment of Ron’s clothes.  He needed something else to make a dummy out of. 

            That’s when Harry decided that he would use Grumblesnore’s Elvis mannequin.  He “borrowed” it when Grumblesnore wasn’t around.  He kept it under his bed during the day.  At night, he would place it under his covers, and go to sleep under Ron’s bed. 

            When he woke up the next morning, invariably he would find the dummy in worse shape than he left it the night before.      Sometimes the unknown assailant would leave their weapon behind.  In fact, Harry was accumulating quite a collection.  He found guns, knives, swords, fire pokers, a cricket bat, a golf club, and a war axe.  When he went down to breakfast, he was usually greeted by stares of disbelief.  For by then, usually a rumor had spread that he was dead. 

            Grumblesnore was quite angry that someone had removed his Elvis mannequin from his office.  “Is nothing sacred?” he repeatedly asked.  Harry thought Grumblesnore would be very happy to know that it was being used to save his life nightly.  However, he wasn’t about to admit his responsibility for the abduction. 

            As long as the weather was good, Ron practiced with the rest of their quibbage team daily after classes.  Harry joined them when he was done with ‘Remedial Poisons.’  Sometimes practice went on after dark. 

            While they practiced, Hermione usually expounded on the virtues of being elf-less to anyone who would listen to her.  Anyone foolish enough to do so, never did twice.  If it weren’t for the fact that Ron was busy with quibbage practice, he may have been forced to join the OSPREE Club, as it was, Hermione was still the only member.  It was clear that Hermione directed their relationship, though Ron for some reason refused to admit that they were even going out, citing the fact that he had never asked Hermione to go anywhere with him.  He insisted they were not dating.  They were obviously a couple to everyone except Ron. 

            Harry felt awkward and uncomfortable many times around them.  There were times when he felt like he was intruding on a private moment.  Their snuggling started to repulse him.  Cripes, couldn’t they save it for when he wasn’t around? 

            To make matters worse, Harry noticed that Yu Rang and Michael Coronary had become a couple.  They were always holding hands in the halls.  How could she want him for a boyfriend?  Blech. 

            Meanwhile, Harry sent a letter to the Dirtleys asking them to send his trunk of clothing and other possessions.  A week later, Harry sent a letter begging them to send his things.  A week later, Harry told Hasbeen about his problem.  The next day, Hasbeen delivered Harry’s trunk, and his pet goat, Hedbutt.  Harry was elated. 

            “I hope you gave them all a serious thrashing,” Harry said scornfully. 

            “Don’t worry ’bout that.  I’m sure if you send ’em any more letters, next time, tha’ll answer right quick,” the big man replied.

            Harry had his trunk and most of his possessions.  He had his 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. 

            The only important item missing was his cauldron.  Hasbeen must have missed it.  Harry cursed his luck.  However, at least he finally had some clothes to change into, and most importantly, he had his special cloak and map.  He immediately went on a spree of mischief, planting his ventrilo-whoopy cushions in the Nerd House Common Room, substituting fake wands for real ones, and offering gum, soda, and crackers to all his Nerd friends.

            When the weekend trip to Hogsbreath came around, he restocked his favorite prank items at Fred and George’s joke shop.  He bought some of the anti-matter toothpaste, they had invented, too.  It was a hoot. 

            He also bought a cell phone at the new Cingular shop in Hogsbreath.

            “What do you need a cell phone for?” asked Hermione.

            “I don’t know, I just couldn’t resist.  Maybe I’ll call Uncle Vermin, and ask him if his refrigerator is running,” Harry laughed.

            Hermione rolled her eyes.  Hopefully, Harry would get over this incredibly stupid phase soon.

            Once Harry had his cloak and map, Ron, Hermione, and he made several attempts to get past the poodle.  Harry risked being expelled.  However, with his cloak and map, there was little chance of being caught.  Several times they had passed Gretchen Shoemacher, the new school custodian, Belch’s ugly replacement, in the halls.  She seemed just as eager as Belch to catch students up after curfew.  However, she was no smarter than Belch, and easily fooled.

            During one attempt, Ron brought Nemoy along.  The poodle was indifferent to the squid, but was clearly vicious to humans. 

            Each attempt to get past the dog only made them more afraid of it.  They concluded that it was futile.  Their only hope was to find out who the Heir to the Err was, and find out how to get past the dog from them.  Unfortunately, this time, Ginny showed no signs of being possessed by an evil cheesecake recipe book.  She was one of the few that they could safely scratch off their list of potential suspects.

            Maldoy was at the top of the list, and it was quickly becoming important to Harry that they make some progress.  Harry wanted proof one way or another.  Either Maldoy was the Heir of the Err or he wasn’t.  He decided to interview the remains of Faco’s meals.  He soon discovered that Shabby and Foil usually ate anything Faco left behind.  Harry planted bowls of oatmeal around Faco’s favorite table in the Great Eatery, Shabby and Foil ate these too.  Finally, one day, he recovered a bowl half-filled with oatmeal.  Unfortunately, it knew nothing.  Harry decided it was time for more drastic measures.

            So late one early October evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione decided to use Harry’s special cloak to do a little snooping around.  Ron had to be told to put his squid, Nemoy, back in its tank.  Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to be under the cloak with a slimy cephalopod mollusk.  It was bad enough being under the cloak with Ron. 

            The cloak was special not just because it had been his late father’s cloak, but also because of its more significant properties.  The cloak was actually a large sheet with two eyeholes cut out.  Anyone using the cloak looked like a ghost.  Using the cloak they were able to travel the haunted and hallowed halls of Hogwashes, indistinguishable from the other specters that roamed freely about, such as Nearly Earless Nick, Peeved the Poltergeist, or the Muddy Cruddy Baron.  The only difference was the three sets of sneakers squeaking down the halls underneath.  The cloak was better than being invisible.  People might have accidentally bump into them if they were invisible.  Wearing the sheet, everyone got out of their way, most with a bewildered expression.

            They worked their way down to the dungeon and eventually stood outside the entrance to the Popular Rich Kids House.  Harry checked to make sure the coast was clear, and then removed the sheet.  The entrance was guarded by a portrait of a silly-looking man with bloodshot-eyes.  The portrait asked, “Password?”

            To this Harry raised his index and middle fingers in a
V
and quickly jabbed at the man’s bloodshot eyes. 

            However, the man in the portrait was quicker, and blocked Harry with one hand, while saying in a squeaky voice, “Oh, a wise guy!”  Then he slapped all three of them across their faces with one sweep of his hand.

            Harry started to panic, what was the next step?  Was he supposed to give the man a nuggie or box his ear?  He felt like such a stooge.  Hermione reached into the portrait and grabbed hold of the man’s ear twisting it. 

            “Thanks,” whispered Harry, remembering the sequence now.

            “OH, HOO, HOO!” cried the man in the portrait. 

            “Say Uncle!” said Hermione with a note of victory in her voice.

            “Uncle!” squeaked the high-pitched voice of the silly-looking man.  The portrait swung open, and Hermione let go of the man’s ear. 

            They were in, and were secretly all very pleased to have gotten into the Popular Rich Kid House so easily.  Little did they realize that just beyond the portrait was an entrance foyer with a state-of-the-art security system.  Its synthetic female voice pleasantly requested, “Please position your chin on the bar for Retina Scan Comparison.”

            Harry looked at Ron who shrugged.  Harry exploded, “Oh, great!  I thought you said you knew how to get in!  Cheesley you are such a moron!”

            “Me?  If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have made it this far!  You should be thanking me, Putter, you idiot!” shouted Ron.

            “What good is getting this far, we can’t get by this!  And as far as idiots go, your village called and said their idiot is missing!”

            “Well, you’re so stupid you get scammed all the time by the village idiot!” retorted Ron.

            Hermione interjected, “All right!  That’s enough!”  She grabbed their ears and twisted.