Harry Putter & the Deathly Hairballs Read online

  He wondered how Hooty could have heard it with the organ playing. He realized, for experienced auditors, like Mad Dog, a single and distant note sends them into immediate action.

  Suddenly, people began to shout. “You’ve ruined the wedding!”

  “What’s wrong with you, Hooty?”

  “He’s gone mad!”

  Mad Dog yelled, “Get ready! They’re coming!”

  Harry knew. Mad Dog was right. He pulled out his wand, too. Harry was not the only one. Xylophonius Luvnoodle cast a spell, disarming Hooty. The man thought Hooty was crazy and too dangerous to keep his own wand.

  Harry yelled, “No, the Fungus Eaters are coming!”

  No one could hear anything in the chaos that ensued. There were cries of dismay, there were screams of fright. Some began to run, knocking down other guests and folding chairs.

  And then the approaching nightmarish strains of the legendary evil rock song, “Inna Godda Da Vida” rose in volume until it was blaring over all the other noises.

  Fungus Eaters were storming into the back yard. One of them, somewhere in the back of the group was holding a CD player up high, blasting the haunting melody and sending terror into the ranks of guests.

  The first two Fungus Eaters to arrive were taken out by the spells of Harry and Rhomulus Loopin. However, there were many more behind them, and they pressed forward to attack.

  There were too many. As Harry fought to defend himself and the others, he saw Nurse Pomfrite go down. She had been humbly sitting in the back row of chairs, and so was one of the closest people to their enemies’ point of attack.

  He also saw Rodolphius Le Deranged, one of the Fungus Eaters, sneer and attack the defenseless Mad Dog Hooty, who was standing close to Harry. The evil man had been captured by Hooty and jailed in Azcabanana, the prison for wizards. Rodolphius saw his chance and took it, exacting revenge on the wandless old man. Harry’s defensive spell struck Le Deranged down a moment later.

  Suddenly, the next thing Harry knew, he was no longer in the back yard. Instead, he was looking at the front door of the Boil. He could still hear the screams of terror and the horror-inspiring Iron Butterfly tune, only no longer so close and loud. Hermione was pulling open the front door and saying, “Quick, Harry, we have to find Ron!”

  Only then did Harry feel his stomach lurch from the aftereffects of the teleportation. Hermione had grabbed his shoulder and abberated them to the front of the house. She continued to pull Harry’s arm and tow him into the house and through the living room. Twice Harry rebounded off the hallway walls, knocking framed pictures askew. She opened a door. Inside was a closet. It was filled with winter coats, sports equipment, and suitcases. Hermione grabbed a large brown sack and handed it to Harry.

  Harry could still hear the chaos going on outside, as she slammed the closet door and bounced Harry back down the hall again. She opened another door and tromped down a stairway into the basement. There she opened the laundry room door, turned on the lights, and dragged Harry inside. Past the washing machine and dryer, there was a utility sink with a large cabinet front.

  She pulled open the cabinet under the sink and there was a high-pitched scream. At this, Harry felt Hermione jump and heard her sudden shriek. Ron was curled up in a ball, hiding in the space under the sink where all the pipes were. Hermione grabbed him, and an instant later, they were in a dusty and creepy looking old house.

  They were in the entrance hall at Grim Old Place, the childhood home of Serious Smack the Clown and Regular Smack the Mime.

  Chapter 6 – Grim Old Place

  Ron stood, brushed himself off, and sighed, “Phew! We’re safe.”

  He took a step forward, intending to go into the living room, flop down on the sofa, and rest a bit to give his nerves a chance to calm down. However, with that one step, he felt his shin press against a trip wire and he was struck suddenly in the shoulder by a crossbow bolt! He screamed in pain.

  The clumsy teenager stumbled forward and spun around seeking Harry and Hermione’s help for the agonizing wound. As he did, he heard an audible click and was almost impaled by a spear that shot out of the wall a mere two centimeters from his face. His eyes went wide at that. He backed away from the deadly weapon.

  Hermione yelled, “Watch out!”

  Ron turned and saw a suit of armor had dropped its pole axe. It was falling directly at him. He dove forward and fell to the floor, narrowly escaping the sharp blade. It was so close it put a slice in his rented wedding robe and chopped his magic wand in two. However, the young man didn’t notice, as a shot gun blast had blown an array of holes into the wall a half meter above his head. If he hadn’t fallen, he’d likely be dead.

  Hermione yelled, “Ron, stop moving.”

  Just then, a small duffle bag jumped out from behind a plant and started scratching and clawing at Ron as the teenager struggled to fend it off. Ron screamed again. He fought his way up to a standing position where he’d be better able to contend with his small attacker.

  Harry recognized the assailant. The duffle bag was actually Kreeper the Smack residence House-Elf, which meant he served in a household. He was also a Free-elf, meaning he served the household of his own will. (As opposed to a Slave-elf, one that serves due to a life-saving debt.) Kreeper was slightly less than a meter tall. He had long pointy ears and nose, and beady eyes. He was wearing a small duffle bag with arm, leg, and neck holes cut out.

  Harry called out, “Kreeper, stop! It’s us!”

  Even as he shouted, a trap door opened up. Ron nearly tumbled in. He was teetering on the brink, his arms flailing frantically to avoid the pit behind him. He yelled, “Help!” However, Kreeper the House Elf gave him a shove.

  Though the elf was not very strong, the push was enough to send the off-balance young man tipping slowly and inexorably backwards. Realizing he was about to go in, Ron kicked off from the edge and managed to jump to the other side of the pit, landing on his butt. He said, “Phew! That was close!”

  The next moment two things happened at once. Kreeper leapt over the pit to continue his attack and a grenade rolled next to Ron’s side. The orange-haired teenager screamed his high-pitched shriek. He amazingly caught the elf by the throat with one hand, and picked up the grenade with the other. He handed Kreeper the grenade and dropped him into the pit.

  Ron heard a splash and a low guttural growl. A moment later there was an explosion that shook the house. The next thing he knew, a gush of water and a large crocodile flew out of the pit. The monstrous reptile landed on him with a wet thud. He was slammed to the floor under its massive weight. Fortunately, the crocodile was either too stunned or too dead to attack him.

  Suddenly, everything was quiet and still. Harry and Hermione turned and looked at each other in surprise. A moment later, they couldn’t help but laugh at the bizarre turn of events. However, Hermione went from laughing to crying.

  She hugged Harry and said, “It’s so terrible, Harry. They killed Pomfrite. There’s no one who can raise the dead like her. There’s no one to resurrect Mad Dog this time.”

  Harry said without conviction, “We don’t know that she’s dead. Maybe she survived somehow.”

  Hermione asked, “Do you think?”

  Harry frowned and shook his head.

  After they rolled the dead crocodile off their unconscious friend, Hermione took care of Ron’s injury. She saw the crossbow bolt had pierced both the front and back of his shoulder. She snapped the fletched end off and pulled the rest of the short shaft through the hole in his shoulder. Then she bandaged the piercing wound.

  While she was working, Kreeper the Elf came nonchalantly down the hallway stairs.

  Harry noticed him and called out, “Wow, I thought you were dead for sure!”

  Kreeper said in a squeaky voice, “Once I realized who you actually were – oh, and sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you three. Anyway, I took the grenade from Ron and let him drop me. It was the only way to
get rid of it in time. Then I quickly abberated out. I was gone long before I would have hit the water. Good thing for you, too! You wouldn’t like me when I get wet. It makes me crabby.”

  Harry knew that it was a very bad thing to mix Elves and water. “Crabby” was an understatement. It would have been monstrous. He would have turned into a living holy terror.

  Harry asked, “So what’s with all the traps?”

  Kreeper said, “Mad Dog Hooty set them up. He was worried about Fungus Eaters breaking in.”

  Harry replied, “I thought the place was protected by spells.”

  Kreeper shrugged and said, “Spells keep enemies from abberating in, but they don’t keep ‘em from bashing down the door. With only me around, he thought it would be a good idea to set up a little extra protection to keep the house safe.”

  Harry scoffed, “Well, he could have warned us!”

  “He said he was going to. I guess he forgot.”

  Harry asked, “If there are any traps left, would you please disarm them? Someone could get hurt.”

  Kreeper grinned, “Right away, Master.”

  Harry raised an eyebrow at that. He asked, “Master?”

  “It’s been a long time since there’s been anyone around to call Master. Can’t you just humor me?”

  It had been a long time since Serious Smack had died. No one had been around after the Order of the Harry Putter Fan Club had helped Harry sort through the clown’s belongings years ago. Meanwhile, Regular Smack the Mime’s whereabouts were still unknown.

  Harry replied, “Sure, go ahead and call me Master, if it makes you happy.”

  Kreeper’s grin widened, and he said, “I’ll go disarm the remaining traps. Let me know if you require anything else.”

  Harry said he would.

  Hermione pouted and said, “You shouldn’t encourage him Harry!”

  Harry remembered Hermione’s feelings about house-elves acting as servants to wizards and witches. She was adamantly against it. He said, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  Just then, Ron stirred in half-consciousness. He said, “Mommy!”

  He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione for a short while. Then he said, “Hermione, I just had the weirdest dream, really it was a nightmare.”

  She replied, “Let me guess, you got shot by a crossbow, nearly killed by several other traps, were attacked by an elf, and had a half ton crocodile land on you?”

  Ron said, “You dreamed it too?”

  Hermione answered, “No, Ron, that really happened.”

  Ron exclaimed, “Holy crap! I’m lucky to be alive.”

  Hermione said, “Sometimes I think you have nine lives, Ron.”

  Harry asked, “Can I get you anything, pal? Would you like some water?”

  Ron answered, “Why yes, that’d be nice.”

  Harry left to get his friend a glass.

  Hermione suggested, “You should move over to the sofa, lie down, and rest a while.”

  Ron said, “That sounds good. I am tired.”

  Hermione helped him to stand up. As Ron slowly walked over to a dusty chair in the living room, he said, “First the Fungus Eaters and now this. I can’t remember ever having a worse day.”

  Hermione said, “Well, then, cheer up, you have nowhere to go but up.”

  Ron flopped down into the chair with a poof of dust. Electricity promptly began coursing through his writhing body.

  Hermione ran and grabbed the pole axe from the hallway. She ran back and swung the blade down on one of the electrical wires leading to the chair. There was a small spray of sparks. Once severed, the circuit was broken and the current stopped.

  Hermione looked at Ron and noticed that his rented wedding robe was singed in many spots and wisps of smoke were rising from the scorched fabric. She quickly patted out a small flame that was sputtering and flickering to life on the front of his rented robe.

  Ron said, “Ouch.”

  Harry walked in with a glass of water. He took one look at Ron and asked, “What just happened?”

  Ron replied gloomily, “Nothing. Just me, being me.”

  At that moment, Harry’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his robe pocket and read a text message that had just arrived. It was from Kingsley Shuckthecorn.

  Like old man Hooty, Shuckthecorn is one of the best auditors around, only Shuckthecorn is still currently employed by the Ministry of Magic. He is the Fan Club’s official spy within the organization.

  Shuckthecorn asks a lot of question and he never answers a question without asking a question in return. This is one of the reasons he’s gone far in the ministry. He’s so personable and seems to care enough to ask the employees at the ministry questions about their personal lives. The other is that he is a pathological liar who just hasn’t been caught lying yet.

  Consequently, the people at the ministry all believe he is a nephew of the Prime Minister of England. That’s why the ministry assigned him to the role of protecting his ‘uncle.’ Once Shuckthecorn was able to get in proximity to the head of Parliament, he altered the Prime Minister’s memories to make him think he really is Shuckthecorn’s uncle.

  His text message arrived bearing horrifying news. Harry read it out loud:

  OMG Ministry fallen. Dimeeyore’s dead J. LOL, they are coming!!! Sux 2BU!!!

  Ron jumped out of his chair, he had half of his sliced-in-two wand out. He nervously said, “I hear music! Quick we have to hide! Which way’s the laundry room?”

  Harry gruffly reassured him, “Ron, snap out of it. They’re not coming here. No one knows where we are, especially not Shuckthecorn. He was trying to warn us that the Fungus Eaters were about to crash the wedding. Unfortunately, his message arrived too late.”

  Ron said, “Oh no. I forgot all about that. I hope everyone’s all right. I better call and find out.”

  Harry said, “Yes, you certainly should. Just one thing though, Ron – don’t mention where we are.”

  Cheesley asked, “Why?”

  Harry was worried about Ron’s mother. She had been acting so strangely. However, he didn’t want to upset his friend. He simply said, “The less people who know, the better. You should call.”

  Ron was on the phone a long while with his mother. While he was talking, Harry received another text. It was from Ron’s father.

  It read:

  Accidently left gate open, ;) I guess the wedding’s off, LOL.

  Harry was shocked. Good friends were seriously injured and most likely dead. Why would Mr. C. do something like that just to stop the wedding? Was he a spy and a traitor too? Both Mr. and Mrs. Cheesley were acting so strange lately. Harry was glad he had asked Ron not to tell anyone they were at Grim Old Place. He reminded himself to talk with Hermione alone, when he got a chance.

  A moment later the L-shaped scar on his forehead gave Harry shooting pains in his head. He knew Moldyfart was mad. His scar always hurt terribly whenever the Fart Lord became irate, which was quite often. Moldyfart was generally an angry person. Harry had a sudden vision of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Smelled. He was yelling at a small group of the Fungus Eaters.

  Vermintail was saying, “Cheer up, Master. We brought you a piece of the wedding cake.”

  The Fart Lord raged, “I don’t want cake! The idea wasn’t to ruin the wedding. It was to get Putter!”

  Vermintail answered, “Look. It’s got strawberry jelly inside.”

  Moldyfart begrudgingly looked at it. Another stabbing pain knifed into Harry’s brain.

  Lord Pull-My-Finger stormed, “What? It’s got coconut on top! Who puts coconut on a wedding cake? I hate coconut!”

  Harry mercifully passed out.

  When Harry regained consciousness, Ron had gotten off the phone. He told Harry the terrible news. Nurse Pomfrite and Mad Dog Hooty were indeed dead.

  Harry said, “I’ve got to put an end to this. I’ve got to find out more about these hoaxcrocks, so I can destroy them, and then kill Moldyfart.”

  Ron said, “No. We have to.
”

  “I thought you weren’t…”

  “We’re a team, Harry. We’re like a shiny new…”

  “Tricycle,” said Harry, jumping in and finishing Ron’s sentence for him.

  Hermione sighed and muttered, “Can’t we skip the tricycle analogy and just call ourselves the three musketeers?”

  “I don’t get it,” Ron asked, “What’s a candy bar got to do with the three of us?”

  Hermione said, “I was referring to the Dumas book, Ron.”

  “Oh yeah?” Ron blurted out, “Well, your hair is so bad, it looks stupid.”

  Hermione slapped her forehead and explained, “No, Ron. I was referring to the book, The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre Dumas.”

  Harry chimed in, “I think you’re pronouncing it wrong. It’s doo-ma. It’s a French name and the s is silent.”

  Hermione answered, “I really don’t care how those hoity-toity, namby-pamby poofs pronounce it. I wasn’t talking about a candy bar.”

  “Ouch, Hermione,” Harry asked, “What do you have against the French anyway?”

  Hermione replied, “Oh, come on. They’re all a bunch of baguette-munching, wine-sniffing women. And their women are all stuck-up, pouting, snooty snots. They think the rest of the world is beneath them.”

  “Yeah, but they make some awesome pastries - Napoleons, éclairs, crème brulée, tarts.”

  Hermione sniffed, “They’re all a bunch of tarts, if you ask me. I’d rather have tiramisu. But can we just skip dessert?”

  She continued, “Why don’t we get back on subject. We need to make a plan to destroy Moldyfart’s hoaxcrocks. Once we take care of them, the Fart Lord becomes vulner….”

  Ron interrupted, “Wait? You guys don’t even have a plan yet?”

  Hermione and Harry answered, “No.”

  Ron became exasperated. He cried out, “I thought you said you were ready!”

  Hermione replied, “I said I had already packed. And, I have. Everything we could possibly need is in my bag.”