Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes (14 page)

            Gildersneeze saw that Harry’s head was grossly misshapen and recalled the events of the early afternoon Quibbage match.  He realized Harry’s head had been badly fractured.  Pulling his wand from his pocket, he pointed it at Harry.

            Harry, though it hurt his head immensely, protested, “No!  NO!”

            But, Gildersneeze didn’t remember what had happened the last time he had tried to mend a broken bone, and cast the spell the exact same way, deboning Harry’s head.  Harry’s head was like a thick pudding resting on his neck.  He tried to make a face at Farthard, but couldn’t.  He tried to yell at Farthard, but only managed to gurgle out a thick raspberry.  He was having a lot of trouble just breathing. 

            “You’re thertainly welcome.” Farthard replied.

            Hasbeen dragged Faco Maldoy’s body to the hospital wing.  Using his hand to hold his mouth open so he could breathe, Harry followed.

            In the school’s hospital wing, Harry was immediately given a bed.  Tubes kept his nasal passages open so he could breathe.  As he lay with his head on a pillow, like a sack filled with Jell-O, he felt his eyes wobble with each of his heartbeats.  It felt like he was on a waterbed.  Luckily, he didn’t sneeze.  If he did, he would have died, and it wouldn’t have been pretty.  Luckily, he didn’t know that; if he did, he would have sneezed. 

            Instead, he lay there wondering where they were keeping all the Cheesecake-Obsessed children, the unfortunate ones who had been incapacitated after having eaten a cheesecake from the Chamber of Cheesecakes.  He guessed that the hospital wing was too small to accommodate so many beds.  There had been six incidents so far, seven, if you included Belch. 

            He found it hard to relax with Maldoy’s headless corpse in the bed opposite him.  Mrs. Pomfrite, the school nurse, was taking care of Maldoy, but Harry couldn’t lift his head to watch what she was doing, even if he had wanted to.  He figured she was embalming Faco, or what was left of him anyway.  He wondered why she would take care of the dead when he was still alive, but he remembered the unintelligible gurgling flatulence that came out of his mouth whenever he tried to talk, and decided to just wait his turn.

            He imagined Luscious Maldoy at the funeral for his only son.  It would have to be a closed casket funeral, Luscious would never see his son’s face again, nor would anyone else for that matter.  Putter didn’t hold any remorse whatsoever for the Maldoy family, they were known Fungus Eaters.  He hoped the Ministry arrested Luscious at the funeral.

            But at the same time, he felt bad for Faco, who had died a horrible death.  There was no dignity in it.  It would have been better if Harry and Faco had held a wizard duel to the death.  Then Faco would have died with the respect his enemy deserved.

            Faco’s death also meant Harry’s life would become that much more dull.  Having a nemesis to plot against gave meaning to many of Harry’s days at Hogwashes for the past five years, six if you counted preschool.  He also had spent countless hours in paranoia over how to put a stop to Maldoy’s own schemes, both real and as Harry imagined them.  Yes, he realized, he was going to miss Maldoy.  Cripes, how could Hermione be so insensitive?

            Then Mrs. Pomfrite approached with the large bottle labeled “Numbskull Potion” and asked, “So are you ticklish, Mr. Putter?”

            He remembered the last time when he had to regrow his right humerus.  It had hurt a lot.  He was in pain all night as the bone of his arm regrew.  So why was she asking if he was ticklish this time?  Confused, he tentatively replied, “A little.”  Unfortunately, it sounded more like an extended burp.

            “That’s good,” she explained, “this new ‘Numbskull Potion’ rather tickles.  And it can be very bad if you are so ticklish that you move around while your skull is regrowing.  So do try to hold still tonight.  Try to sleep, if you can.”

            She took hold of his lip and stretched his mouth open, a lot further than it would have been possible if he had a jawbone.  Then she poured the Numbskull Potion down Harry’s throat.  She let go, and his lip flapped back into place.  His whole head wobbled out of control.  Harry wondered about her bedside manner, it seemed a bit lacking.  Oddly, the thought seemed funny to him.  A chortle rose in his throat but as it escaped it sounded more like a raspberry.

            Nurse Pomfrite pulled the curtain closed around Harry’s bed, then turned the lights out as she left.

            If you were in the hospital wing that night, you wouldn’t have gotten much sleep.  There was one other student there besides Harry, Justin Flinch-Retchedly.  He was a Nerd who had been beaten up by Shabby, Foil, and a few other disappointed Popular Rich Kids.  During the fight, Justin’s ribs had been cracked.  Justin was kept up most of the night, at first with the noises of belches, raspberries, and gurgling, later with strange laughing and giggling, all coming from Harry’s bed.  Harry was the only one who got any sleep.  But even his sleep didn’t keep him quiet.

            Maldoy complained, “Would you shut up!  It’s enough to wake the dead.”  He rolled over and covered his new head with a pillow.

            Later that night, Harry could be heard eerily droning ingredients and their measures.  One and a half cups of sugar, three eggs, one teaspoon vanilla, 32 ounces cream cheese, 1 cup sour cream.  Justin Flinch-Retchedly and Faco continued to be kept awake by it at first.  However, panic ensued among them when they realized the ingredients all belonged in cheesecake!  They fled the hospital wing in great haste. 

            Word spread very quickly throughout the school in the wee hours of the night.  Harry Putter is the Err of Slipperin!

            Harry woke the next morning feeling greatly refreshed and very happy, like he had just been to the movies to see his favorite comedy, Rocky III.  He yawned.  Mrs. Pomfrite walked in to the hospital wing and was greatly alarmed to see the empty beds.  Where were her patients?  Checking on Harry, she drew the curtain around his bed away. 

            “Oh, dear!”

            “What?” asked Harry, stretching.

            “Let’s just say, apparently you are a bit more ticklish than you let on,” she replied.

            “Huh?”

            She got a hand mirror out of the drawer and handed it to him.  She immediately began to fill a syringe, but he wasn’t paying attention to that, in his eagerness to examine his face in the mirror.

“Wow!  I look ridiculous!” he laughed.  “Good thing you’ll be able to straighten it out!  Heh, heh, right?”

            She administered the shot quickly, and just in time.  As she shook her head no, in reply to his question, his scream of anxiety quickly dwindled to a whimper as he passed out from the sedative she had injected.

            When Harry woke again, it was dark in the hospital wing.  Bobby the elf was sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a deformed ape skull.  Harry felt maddeningly ticklish all over for just a second, then the feeling faded away.

            “Hi, Bobby, what have you got there?”

            Bobby held the strangely grotesque skull up and made the jaw move with his hand as he talked, like a ventriloquist. “Hello Mr. Putter, Sir!  I’m your second skull, Sir!  Your third one seems to be doing much better.”

            Harry gave a short laugh.  “I’m very thirsty, Bobby, would you get me a glass of water?” 

            Bobby’s eyes widened, “Oh, no, Sir, not water!  Bobby mustn’t go near water!”

            “Huh?  Why not?”

            “Water is very bad for an elf.  Never get water on an elf, Sir!  They become terrible, nasty, and dangerously fierce!  Wild and uncontrollable, Sir!”

            “Calm down, I can get my own water.”  Harry rolled his eyes.  “And people think I’m the drama queen,” he thought as he got up and went to the sink.

            “Bobby came to visit Harry Putter.  Bobby feels just terrible.  Harry Putter is in great danger and is very lucky to be alive.  When you are better, you must leave school before it is too late.”

            It was obvious to Harry that Bobby was trying to get him to leave the safety of Hogwashes, and go home where he would be in the reach of his enemies.  Obviously, this was Bobby’s original plan.

            Harry finished drinking, threw his cup in the wastebasket, wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and said, “Bobby, that crash was just an accident.”

            “Oh, no sir!  That accident happened quite on purpose, Sir.  Someone cut the brake wire on your tractor!”

            “Get out!”  Harry gave Bobby a shove that sent him tumbling off the edge of the bed. “Who would do such a thing?  Lord Moldyfart?”

            “Thank you, Sir!  No, Bobby did it.  Bad Bobby, BAD Bobby!  Please, Sir, hit Bobby again!”  

            “Stop it, I’m not going to hit you!  Someone ordered you to do it, Bobby.  Your new master, Lord Moldyfart ordered you, didn’t he?”

            “Bobby doesn’t serve,” he paused, “doesn’t serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Smelled!”

            “Who then?”

            “Bobby, cannot say.  Orders is orders.  But master did not say that Bobby couldn’t visit Harry Putter, Sir.  Bobby came to warn Harry Putter again.  Bobby must make Harry Putter understand, next time he won’t be so lucky!  He must leave Hogwashes!”

            “Bobby, I never even tried to use my brakes.”

            “Oh?….Well then, Bobby never cut them.”  The elf indignantly walked out of the hospital wing with his nose in the air.

            “Well, if you aren’t the Heir of the Err, then why do you suppose you were reciting cheesecake recipes in your sleep?”

            “For the last time, Ron, I don’t know!  I’ve never made a cheesecake in my life and while I may know some of the ingredients that are in cheesecake, any moron does, you know, I don’t know ALL of the ingredients in cheesecake, and I certainly don’t know what their measures would be.  I think I was channeling.  I think Lord Moldyfart was making a cheesecake, and I channeled him while he was doing it.”

            Many students nearby overheard Harry, as he was getting a bit loud in his exasperation.  Several of them bowed down in benediction at the use of the Fart Lord’s name.

            Ron tried to figure out if he knew any of the ingredients in cheesecake.  He felt like a moron for a minute, until he remembered that cheesecake must have cheese in it.  He wondered what kind was used in cheesecake, “provolone?  Parmesan?  Ooh, probably Ricotta!” 

            Ron had asked Harry the same question the day Harry had gotten out of the hospital wing, and he was still asking it today, over a month later.  It was mid December, the ceiling in the Great Eatery showed that yesterday, even though the sun was out, the sky was gray.  The large room was a bit chilly.  Grumblesnore, being the tightwad that he is, wouldn’t properly heat the school.  Students wore thick sweaters to compensate.

            History of Magic class was as boring as ever.  It wasn’t that it didn’t have potential for excitement.  It was Professor Binge’s presentation that made it Harry’s most boring class.  Hermione seemed to be the only one interested in what Binge had to say.  Consequently, she racked up a lot of house cup points by answering his questions right.  She was the only one who ever bothered to raise her hand.  Binge didn’t seem to mind.

            Transmogrification was always good.  Harry was one of Professor McGooglesnot’s favorite students, and she tended to treat him special.  He also seemed to have a bit of talent for the subject.  McGooglesnot was an excellent teacher and always kept the student on their toes.  They were already transforming vegetables into hamburgers, which is a very useful talent to know, especially if you don’t like vegetables. 

            Hermione also managed to earn a lot of house cup points in Transmogrification.  McGooglesnot showed favoritism toward the Nerds.  Harry figured it only balanced out the points that Professor Ape subtracted from them.

            However, it was most shocking when one day Professor McGooglesnot disappeared suddenly and without a trace.  She simple didn’t show up for breakfast one morning, which was very unlike her.  Her office and rooms were searched.  A general search of the school grounds was also conducted, but no evidence of an altercation or abduction were found, nor any note to explain her sudden disappearance.  Rumors began circulating that she had been kidnapped and was being held captive in the Chamber of Cheesecakes by a dreadful monster. 

            Grumblesnore hired a hideous substitute hag, Emphysema Blacklung, to teach Transmogrification until Professor McGooglesnot hopefully returned.  Suddenly, Transmogrification class was no longer comfortable.  Emphysema had a different way to do everything.  She was almost as ugly as Gretchen Shoemacher.  Harry found the whole situation to be an added incentive to locating the Chamber of Cheesecakes.  The sooner he did, the sooner he could save McGooglesnot, and the sooner Emphysema Blacklung would be out of his life.  Surprisingly enough, Hermione’s daily accumulation of house cup points increased when Blacklung took over.

            In Defense Against the Fine Arts, Professor Farthard continued to subject the sixth year students in Harry’s class to more and more deadly creatures.  It was becoming a regular thing to see injured or slain students taken to the hospital wing during class.  Mrs. Pomfrite complained loudly.  Was she expected to work miracles?  However, the students were fascinated by Professor Farthard, and greatly anticipated his class.  Even those who were killed generally looked forward to their next dangerous encounter.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione worked together in class, and though hard pressed at times, managed to avoid being maimed or killed.

            The centaur Frenzy continued to reprimand the human race in Astro-Numerology.  The students that marveled at the magnificence of the centaurs did well in class.  Those who attempted to argue on behalf of their race suffered poor marks.  Harry found it very easy to kiss up to the centaur.  He got an
A
on his report, “Why I wish I were a centaur,” even though he wished no such thing.

            In Magical Beast Biology, Professor Hasbeen was teaching them about Groundysnouts.  Groundysnouts were swine with wings, and were usually seen after someone used the cliché, “when pigs fly.”  They were also very delicious if one could manage to catch one, which was seldom.

            In “Sawing” class, Humphrey the Wise and Mystical was explaining the classic, How to pull a Rabbit out of a Hat. 

            In Poisons class, Carnivorous Ape continued to dock house cup points from Harry for not having his cauldron.  Harry was also failing.  He couldn’t do any of the work without his cauldron.

            After Poisons, Harry continued to study yoga with Ape.  Most of the time, Harry was trying to achieve “inner peace.”  However, the mere mention of “inner peace” made him fidgety. 

            Quibbage season was over, and there were no practices to attend.  Ron had collapsed under Hermione’s steady pressure; he joined the OSPREE club.  He remained constantly on the lookout for any excuse to get out of OSPREE meetings.  Harry continued to decline to join, leaving no uncertain terms.  He claimed that with the added burden of “Remedial Poisons” with Professor Ape, that he was already overburdened.

            The attempts on Harry’s life were becoming few and far between.  He had survived too many attempts on his life for his fellow students to believe that he was killable.  Many had driven a knife into his back with their own hands, only to see him eating as usually in the Great Eatery the next morning.  Rumors that he was immortal were circulating.  Someone had even driven a wooden stake into the dummy’s heart, in case Harry was a vampire.  Many had given up.  If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Smelled couldn’t kill Harry, then who could?

            Meanwhile, there had also been a rather unsettling incident the week before.  It seemed that Ophelia Quirkey, a fellow sixth year Nerd, had gotten it in her head that Hermione being the nerdiest of all the Nerds was not worthy of Ronald Cheesley’s affections.  After all, what did Hermione Stranger have that she didn’t, besides an overly large head.  She felt she was a much more suitable girlfriend for Ron, and she decided to let Ron know it.  She started flirting with him.  After two days of it, Hermione couldn’t take it anymore.  She told Ophelia to keep her hands and eyes “off her man!” 

            Ophelia told Hermione that she didn’t deserve a man, if she didn’t know how to take care of one.  That’s when the fight started, or perhaps more exact, the beating started.  Hermione fought mean.  It eventually took two teachers, Smooch and Tickwick, to finally pull her off from Quirkey.  Thereafter, the flirting stopped.  Harry couldn’t believe it, girls were actually fighting over Ron, while he couldn’t even get up the nerve to talk to Yu Rang.  She seemed so unapproachable before she had a boyfriend.  Now that she was seeing Michael Coronary, it was a total impossibility.

            Even more disturbing, there had been three more cheesecake incidents since Harry had gotten out of the hospital wing.  Bringing the total of the Cheesecake Obsessed to nine, ten if you included Belch.  Those who were laid up in the hospital wing, or probably somewhere nearby, were: Todd Oreobreath, Henrietta Widowmaker, Bonibal Snowman, Valiant Effort, Goerthe Von Goop, Ignatius “Iggy” Zweebler, Formalda Hyde, Woody Sawdust, and Aloyicius Mudhead.  Most of them were Popular Rich Kids.  However, Iggy was a Party Animal, Valiant Effort was a Jock, and Aloyicius Mudhead was a Nerd.  The only thing they all had in common was that Harry didn’t know any of them, not even his fellow Nerd, Mudhead.  Harry blamed himself.  If only he were more social, he might get to know more of the other students.

            Grumblesnore had seemingly done nothing to locate and close the Chamber of Cheesecakes.  Harry hadn’t exactly been following Grumblesnore’s command to leave the mystery alone. 

            Harry had already searched both the Locker Room and the Party Animal’s Common Room, but hadn’t found any recipe books at all.  He had also searched many private rooms only to come up empty.  He had focused on the rooms of preschoolers figuring that the Heir to the Err had to be someone new to the school, or else the Chamber of Cheesecakes would have opened sooner.  He searched Farthard’s chamber, too, for the same reason.  However, he couldn’t even find a recipe book, not even in the school kitchen. 

            During his searches, he had several close encounters with Professor Ape.  Ape appeared to be after Putter, roaming the corridors late at night.  There was little doubt, Ape had it in for Putter, and wanted to see him expelled.  Putter had thus far managed to elude him.

            They had made no progress on solving the mystery.  In fact, if anything they were more confused than ever.  Soon the holiday break would be here.  All of the other students would be going home for the holidays, their families wanted to see them.  Harry was the only one who remained at school this time of year.  He looked forward to using the time to conduct a thorough search for the cheesecake recipe book.

            People were still pointing at Harry and whispering, just like his first day back from the hospital wing.  Hermione said, “Just ignore them,” as she read People magazine.  She seemed to ignore an elf that without her permission crept up and began polishing her cauldron.  It was another one of the elves methods, if they could somehow serve unnoticed, the human might grow accustomed to their service, and it might grow on them. 

            A moment later, –Wham!  Hermione walloped the elf with a fly swatter she carried just for that purpose.  Harry was becoming worried about Hermione’s violent nature.  He found it unsettling.  Getting into fights, swatting elves, killing Maldoy, what was next?  He attributed it to books.  After all, she didn’t listen to violent lyrics in rock songs, watch movies or television, and since human beings are not violent by nature, what else could it be?  However, he was too scared to confront her over it.  She might hurt him.

            Ron just kept wondering if Harry really was the Err of Slipperin.  He was very skeptical of Harry’s answer.  He asked, “But why would Lord …”

            He quieted his voice to a whisper, “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Smelled be baking cheesecake?  Doesn’t he have better things to do with his time?  You know, like plotting your death and torturing kittens and stuff?”

    “Heck, Ron, even Fart Lords have gotta eat, and who doesn’t like cheesecake?”

    Ron sighed unconvinced.  He toyed with the wand he had broken a few minutes earlier.  He had sat on it by mistake. 

    Hermione continued reading, unconvinced.

    Harry too was unconvinced.  He asked himself, “Am I the Err of Slipperin?”  Somehow, he had to find out.  Then it hit him.  It was time to pay a little visit to the biggest blabbermouth in Hogwashes, and get him to do some serious gut spilling.

            So he cut History of Magic class, and headed to Hasbeen’s log cabin on the edge of the Forbidden Forest of Sure Death.  He knocked on Hasbeen’s door. 

    “Who be there?” replied the fattest man at school, while Harry wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner.

            “It’s me, Harry.”

            “ ’arry OOH?”

            “Harry Putter, that’s who, you big lummox!”

            “C’mon in, ’arry.”

            Harry let himself in.  Bicuspid leapt up on Harry and slobbered on his face.  “Get down you mangy… umm…I mean, good dog.” 

            Hasbeen was wearing an apron and making a graham cracker crust in the kitchen.  “Hi, ’arry.  Make yerself comfortable like. 

’ow’s school goin’?  Shouldn’t ye be in class?”

            “Fine.  No, not until ten,” Harry lied.  “How’s things with you?  What’s new?”

            “Nuttin’ much.  Played Bingo las’ night, but that mysterious man weren’t there this week.  Sit doon and ’ave some tea and errrr …”  Hasbeen threw a towel over some cheesecakes fresh from the oven and cooling on the countertop, “crackers?”

            “What mysterious man?”

            “The creepy ’ooded man who never tells me ’is name.  ’e comes e’ery so often.  ’e’s the one that gives me all them dogs, Bicuspid, errr Muffy, and Skippy.  Oh yeah, and that dragon egg, ’member that?  Ahhhh, now, that were a bit o’ fun.”

            Harry took a couple of crackers with his tea.  He couldn’t forget Bicuspid, the stupid dog was right there and wouldn’t take his eyes off Harry’s crackers.  He remembered Muffy the three-headed offspring of Cerberus that had guarded the Sorcerous Stone years ago.  He also remembered the baby dragon that Hasbeen had hatched.  But, who was Skippy?  Was Skippy the poodle?