Harry Putter & the Deathly Hairballs

by O'Donnell, Timothy R.

  She swept the kittens from the room, she swept the three out the door.

  Then she spent the next half hour sweeping hairballs off the floor.

  Outside the ground was all frost and snow,

  and the three little kittens had nowhere to go.

  But go they must, to stay was to freeze,

  or catch pneumonia and die from disease.

  So they crept away as quiet as mice,

  all wet with snow and cold as ice.

  The wind was blowing, the snow, how it whirled,

  as they made their way out into the cruel world.

  Yet the three bad kittens survived that harsh night.

  The first thing they did was put an end to their fight.

  They found a dry place and huddled together to stay warm,

  and they slept that way, waiting out the night's storm.

  The next morning they fell in with a group of strays,

  riotous cats, who weren't even neutered or spayed.

  They lived on the streets, in back alleys, and tool shacks.

  They cacked up hairballs and committed worse acts.

  How they fought to excess and lived wanton in their ways,

  the three bad kittens learned bad things from these strays.

  They learned to caterwaul, to revel and frolic,

  and how to steal booze from sleeping drunk alcoholics.

  And they learned blasphemous curses and oaths most profane.

  They learned to raise their hackles in back alleys and lanes.

  And how they fought and scratched with sharp claws,

  biting their enemies with fanged teeth in fanged jaws.

  And sometimes the back alley strays fought 'til they died,

  when faced with another cat they simply could not abide.

  And it happened there were two toms, so shrewd and canny.

  Each thought the other was one cat too many.

  So they yowled at each other, they hissed and had fits.

  How mean they fought, how they scratched and they bit!

  And in the end of the battle of one cat too many,

  instead of two cats, there were no longer any.

  Then all the dead toms' friends gathered to mourn,

  and among them the three kittens felt quite forlorn.

  'Twas said among them, a thief stole their nine lives,

  against the assassin "Death," no cat ever survives.

  But the three bad kittens, they were not afraid.

  They were tougher than all the other cats who had strayed.

  They would not wait for "Death" – for the bitter end.

  They decided to find him and exact their revenge.

  And so the three brave kittens boldly set out,

  to find the thief "Death" and thrash him about!

  They wandered the dark alleys around the whole city,

  And said when they found him, they'd show him "no pity."

  Until in one dark alley, they found an old cat,

  and the biggest one said, "Well, just look at that!

  Hey, Old Tom, why do you cling so to life?

  Wouldn't it be better to end all your strife?"

  The aged old tomcat looked at him and he said,

  "If I was as stupid as you, I'd be better off dead."

  "Stupid as I? We'll just see about that!"

  said the eldest kitten as he hissed and he spat.

  "Calm down, kitten, I've rubbed your fur the wrong way,

  but I'm just an old tomcat, like you, I'm a stray.

  And you asked me why to life I so cleave?

  Let me answer now, I'm still here by God's leave.

  And in return I ask you, why you find it so strange,

  that wherever I've wandered, no one will exchange

  their youth for my years, their peace for my strife.

  Alas, not even Death wants my poor life."

  The kitten exclaimed, "Hear that! He speaks of Death,

  the one who has stolen our friend's very last breath.

  One of his loyal servants? Perhaps you are his spy?

  Here to slay us young kittens? Is Death lurking nearby?"

  Then the wily old tom laughed and he said,

  "Death is waiting for you just down that alley ahead!

  And if you are smart, kitten, take my advice,

  don't walk down that alley or you'll pay the price!"

  Then the oldest bad kitten among the three cats

  laughed and he said, "We'll just see about that!"

  Down the narrow alley he led his sister and brother.

  They slipped into the darkness one after the other.

  And in the dark alley there arose such a fight;

  three kittens against Death, robed black as night.

  And each of the three little kittens almost died,

  but they stuck together and so they survived.

  They fought meanly and scratched with sharp claws,

  biting their enemy with fanged teeth in fanged jaws.

  In the end they forced Death to cry out for mercy,

  even so, they accepted his surrender quite adversely.

  They had said when they found him, they'd show him "no pity."

  Quite determined to do so, were the three little kitties.

  It was not until Death offered something more,

  And even then, they didn't stop 'til he swore

  that he'd grant each little kitten one wish come true.

  Then finally from battle, the kittens withdrew.

  And Death did not lie, he made good on his word.

  He waited to find out what each kitten preferred.

  And when he was ready, the oldest made the first wish,

  He stepped forward excitedly, his tail all a swish.

  With thoughts of his favorite cat story, Puss 'n Boots,

  quite proudly he wished for a spiffy pair as his loot.

  And just as quick as a stray can catch rabies,

  Death said, "I'll do even better, take a look at these babies!"

  Lifting his robe, to the kitten's delight,

  he revealed a pair of sneakers with flashing lights!

  And Death said, "But wait! There's even more!"

  There was something quite magic about the sneakers he wore.

  "They're not only great, these sneaker make you the best.

  Better than everyone else! Better than all the rest!"

  Oh, how their eyes nearly popped out in awe.

  and they called out, "Cool!"; "Whoo hoo!"; and "Hurrah!"

  And the oldest cat took his light-up shoes with great pride,

  "Hmmph, I'm already the best tom around, far and wide!"

  Now, his brother knew what he wanted and could no longer wait,

  but he simply could not ignore him and rose to the bait.

  He said, "Best tom around? We'll just see about that!"

  and with a swish of the tail, stepped forward, the second cat.

  And thinking of his own favorite tale, "The Cat in the Hat."

  "I wish for a snazzy magic cap," said the second-most cat.

  Now Death is a fast one, and just as quick as he could,

  he upped with his hand, and he snapped back his hood.

  On his head a hat with goat-hair tassels was revealed,

  when they saw it, how the delighted kitties all squealed!

  "But there's more to it," said Death. "It's got magic, too.

  It casts an illusion no one can see through."

  "The person who wears this hat on his head,

  can appear to everyone else that he's dead!

  Your chest will seem not to fall and to rise,

  so whenever you want, you can fake your demise.

  Even a vet could not discern you’re alive.

  And when you’re ready you can simple revive.

  It’s useful to get out of scraps quite varied,

  just make sure you are careful not to get yourself buried."

  Then Death wi
th a flourish, placed it on the cat's head.

  A moment later, the second cat dropped down quite dead.

  For a minute the two other cats thought he had been tricked,

  The liar had betrayed them, the hat his death did inflict.

  But up popped the cat, ending his morbid disguise

  and he laughed, "You should have seen the look in your eyes!"

  "Hmmph," replied the two kittens. They didn't like that one bit,

  but they knew that they'd somehow have to get used to it.

  And when she was ready, the third kitten made the last wish,

  she stepped forward excitedly, her tail all a swish.

  She said, "Death, grant my wish now! If you will permit,

  when I cack up hairballs, let them instantly kill who they hit!"

  "I'll do even better!" said Death, adding a small change,

  "I'll also magically increase your cacked-hairball range.

  And in addition to causing death to whomever you strike,

  you'll now expertly cack hairballs whenever you like."

  Death granted her wish and oh, how he laughed,

  as the bad little kitten gave each of her two brothers the shaft!

  She cacked up a hairball on each kitten's head,

  and an instant later they fell down quite dead.

  She gathered up her dead brother's great magic loot,

  the hat on her head, a light-up sneaker on each back foot.

  And she knew in her heart she was the best cat in the city,

  Yes, she felt rather proud when Death called her, "Good kitty!"

  Chapter 14 – Home is Where the Fart is

  After she had finished reading the story, Ron said, “Thanks, Hermione. That brings back fond memories. My mum used to read me that one when I was little.”

  Harry said, “I never heard it before. The Dirtley’s never read any stories to me.”

  Ron asked, “So, the light-up sneakers were really from the story?”

  Harry scoffed, “No.”

  Hermione answered, “Yes.”

  The two looked at each other like they were crazy.

  Harry said, “Don’t be dumb, Hermione. It’s a children’s tale with talking cats and Death granting wishes. It’s laughable.”

  Hermione asked, “Then why do the light-up sneakers exist?”

  “The sneakers were just a hoaxcrock. They had a piece of the Fart Lord’s soul in them. And that evil presence was working hard to break up our friendship. Making us think the sneakers were so great was just part of …Oldyfart May’s scheme to divide us, not because they’re Death’s magic footwear.”

  “Good idea not to use Moldyfart’s name anymore. He could set up his taboo again at any time.”

  “Thanks, maybe you should stop too.”

  “Oops! I guess I said Moldyfart by mistake. Whoops, I did it again. Hee hee. Anyway, why can’t the sneakers be both a hoaxcrock and Death’s sneakers?”

  Harry scoffed, “Because there is no such thing as Death or the Grim Reaper or whatever. That’s all folk tales and malarkey. Death is a fact of life, not some supernatural being carrying a scythe. People are dying every second and that has nothing to do with Death personified. And even if Death did exist, I mean, c’mon, he goes around wearing light-up sneakers as his choice in footwear? Get serious. What did he wear before they were invented? I mean, he’s been around a lot longer than L.A. Gear.”

  Ron replied, “A black robe and a hat with goat-hair tassels.”

  Harry gave Ron a wry look.

  Hermione asked, “So, then, why did Grumblesnore leave the book to me and the hairball to you, Harry?”

  He replied, “I don’t know. He probably left the book to you, because you’d eventually read it. Why would you believe the hairball is real?”

  Hermione sniffed and said, “Because that’s what Grumblesnore is trying to tell you.”

  Harry said, “Oh. I see your point. It’s not that a Death Cat actually cacked-up a deathly hairball. It’s Grumblesnore. He’s trying to give me an advantage, a chance to kill Moldy, …err, Oldyfart May in a wizard’s duel. Grumblesnore must have used Advanced Poisons Magic to make it a super poisonous hairball. All I have to do is get close enough to hit the Fart Lord with the snow globe. The glass will shatter and the Deathly Hairball will kill him on contact.”

  Hermione said, “Something like that.”

  Ron said, “Cool! And then you steal his heart. And then you take a bite out of it! Bloody brilliant!”

  Harry said, “Ron, I’m not going to take a bite out of his heart. Especially, after it’s been poisoned.”

  With the light-up sneakers destroyed, Hermione felt so much more mentally competent. The shoes had really inhibited her ability to concentrate on what was essential – finding and destroying the hoaxcrocks. And perhaps more importantly, now that the sneakers were ruined, she could finally stomach the idea of conducting magical research experiments upon them.

  She wanted to find out if the sneakers retained any residual effects from the evil soul that had inhabited them. She hoped to discover a method of finding the remaining hoaxcrocks by detecting their evil emanations.

  In her research she discovered there was a legendary group of holy knights, called “Paladins.” The Paladins were from the medieval ages and the servants of the Knight Roland, who in turn served King Charlemagne. The Paladins were said to be able to detect the presence of evil.