Chapter Three: The Furry Teacher
For the first time in a very long time, Happy O’Brien felt uneasy. Sure, the second Harry Potter book, ‘Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince’ had cooked up a Category Two literary storm. Sure, he was more of a billionaire than ever, and sure, his secret identity was holding up and life simply couldn’t get any better than this.
But poor, sad Happy felt uneasy.
He had no idea what to write the third book about.
As far as he was concerned, he had milked the idea for all it was worth, and he planned to fix all of this when the anonymous authors arrived at nine o’clock sharp.
When nine o’clock finally came around, and the usual bustling of every one of the anonymous authors trying to come through the door at the same time occurred, Happy stood up. It was time to get back on track “ he had to! The literary world simply depended upon it.
“My dear anonymous authors and assistant Jackie,” he addressed. The entire round table of authors and Jackie looked at him intently, as Happy made his way to the head. “We need to really get serious about this. Yes, we have caused a Category Two literary storm. Yes, I’m a genius. Yes, Harry Potter and JK Rowling are as much loved around the world as coke, rainbows, and early morning in Paris. But we have more books to write! Now, who has an idea for the next one? Anyone?”
There was a pause. Then, in their usual fashion, the authors came up with ideas, one by one.
“How about this? While at school, Harry Potter sees a bird?”
“We’ve done that twice!” snapped Happy. “Have you forgotten Hedwig? Fawkes? One more bird and it will become a bird series and the birdwatcher magazines will want interviews!”
“Or how about,” suggested another author, “something about flying, like some kind of magical plane?”
“You moron!” snapped Happy. “Have you forgotten all about broomsticks? The flying car? And Fawkes?”
“Ooh, I’ve an idea,” twittered an anonymous author who had obviously received Happy’s double-double-triple-strength coffee by mistake. “How about a sort of magical Superman?” Happy groaned.
“You people need to use your memories!” he snapped. “Have you forgotten Dumbledore? And Hermione? And Fawkes? Proper literary devices, people. We’re already practically a Superman Revisited series. Come on!”
“How about the classic “ we kill off a father figure,” an author put forward thoughtfully.
“Dunderhead! He doesn’t have a father figure! We can’t kill Dumbledore, it’s far too early for Ron, and Fawkes can’t even be killed.”
“Alright,” said the author. “I have an even better one: We introduce a father figure.”
Happy tapped his chin.
“Hmm…” he muttered thoughtfully.
“I have something written down here,” said Jackie, “it says, ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’. Does that help?”
“It may do,” said Happy quietly, and then, as a stroke of ingenious inspiration hit him, he raised his voice to shout, “It certainly may do just that! Read back the characters we’ve introduced but have never seen,” he told one anonymous author.
“Let’s see,” said the author. “We have Sirius Black, who was a brother to James Potter…”
“Let’s put him in Azkaban,” said Happy. “Write that down, everyone.”
“Remus Lupin, who was a wolf but was still really nice…”
“A rabid wolf for a teacher! Excellent!” exclaimed Happy. “But make sure it’s a secret, people. Go on, go on!”
“Peter Pettigrew, who was somewhat nondescript…”
“A nondescript person, fantastic!” Happy told them all. “Keep him in mind, everyone.”
“And lastly, Martin Malovski Saint Clair, who was a muggle friend of Lily’s and who sold out the Potters in order to survive the war, but then Pyrites, that dude from book one, chapter one, turned him into a rat.”
“Terrific!” Happy bellowed, now back to his happy, bubbly self. “But as a fun twist, let’s say that Ron owns that rat…”
Well, as you would expect, the writing of the illustrious third Harry Potter book, ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’, began there and then. For three hundred days and three hundred nights, the writers wrote, and by the time they had reached their deadline, the book was polished to perfection. In the fast-paced world of literature, Happy once more only had the time to read one chapter. But he chose it very carefully “ seven was his favourite number.
Chapter 7: The Braggart in the Wardrobe
The days had rolled on as calmly as days could roll on when there was a prisoner on the loose, and Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, the friends with matching noses, had a terrific time with the third member of their group, Ron Weasley. They went to classes, where Hermione was a genius and got fantastic grades in every test, Harry scraped past every test, usually without flying colours, and Ron’s grades were entirely nondescript and sometimes poor.
Ron did have something more interesting than grades going on, and that was his rat, the lazy, fat Scabbers.
“I swear,” said Ron, “my rat is the most interesting thing about me.”
“I don’t know,” contradicted Harry, “your comical arachnophobia is also interesting.”
Hermione laughed out loud.
“Especially when it’s comical!” she told the two boys, wiping a happy tear from her eye.
However, they did not get to continue their discussion about Ron, because at that point, their favourite teacher entered the room. His name was Professor Lupin, and they loved him very much, but there was something strange about him. No one, however, could quite pinpoint what it was exactly. It was probably nothing, but something about his short, furry legs, large, wolf-like ears and small, wet nose, was out of the ordinary.
“Good morning, class,” said Professor Lupin.
“Good morning, Professor Lupin,” said the class.
“Today,” he told them, “we will be doing some hands on work with a funny little creature “ the Braggart.”
“Please, sir, what’s a Braggart?” asked Ron eagerly.
“Who knows what a Braggart is?” asked Professor Lupin. Everyone in the class put up their hands, except for poor Ron.
“Yes, Hermione?” asked Lupin, as he scratched behind his ear with his back leg.
“A Braggart is a very boastful creature, which shows off its magical power by turning into what we fear the most,” Hermione explained clearly.
“Very good,” Lupin commended her. “Now, the only way to destroy a Braggart is to show off your magical power, by making it come face to face with what it is most afraid of. Who can guess what that might be?”
No one “ not even Hermione “ put up their hands, so Professor Lupin decided to randomly ask Harry.
“Well, I suppose it’s most afraid of being embarrassed, isn’t it?” he guessed, “if it’s showing off all the time? I know that’s Malfoy’s greatest fear.”
Somewhere in the castle, Malfoy quivered in much-dreaded embarrassment.
“That’s right,” Lupin told Harry. “The key to destroying a Braggart is to embarrass him. To do it right, you will need to point your wand at it and cry, ‘you are ridiculous’. And then, what finishes it off is laughter.”
The class let out a collective, “Ooh…”
“Now,” Lupin went on, “since I have no hands and can’t hold a wand, I will get a volunteer to go first. You “ the scared looking one who’s avoiding eye-contact with me? Yes, you, Neville, eh? Come over here.”
Neville cowered.
“It’s okay. I don’t bite,” Lupin said soothingly.
“But you have such enormous teeth,” said Neville.
“Oh, ignore them,” said Lupin, “and hurry, please. Good, good. Now, tell me. What are you most afraid of?”
“In the whole world?” asked Neville.
“In the whole world,” conceded Lupin. Neville bit his lip, and crouched down to whisper in Lupin’s ear. The small, hairy teacher chuckled. “Snape? Are you sure?”
Neville nodded.
“He’s really all scowl, no chow, you know.”
Neville shrugged, apparently sure and somewhat embarrassed.
“That’s perfectly fine, Neville,” Lupin told him. Neville gulped. “Now, picture the thing you are least afraid of.” Neville thought hard.
“Mockulus Mandlecoff Carambulata,” he said quite certainly. “The Chinese fighting cabbage.”
“Okay,” said Lupin, “now, picture that as your worst fear comes out of the closet, and don’t forget, Neville, ‘you are ridiculous’!”
“I am not!” snapped Neville, and then blushed as he realised what Lupin meant.
“Of course you are, Neville. Now, if someone wouldn’t mind opening the door of the cupboard? I can’t do it with my small, clawed hands.”
No one volunteered, but then Lupin growled at the class, baring his teeth, and Parvati Patil dashed forward and opened the cupboard, quickly running out of the way.
From inside the cupboard marched Professor Snape, who scowled at Neville menacingly.
“Stupid work!” he accused meanly. “You’re bad!” Neville quivered, but pointed his wand at the Snape. With a burst of courage, Neville pronounced,
“You are ridiculous!”
The Snape faltered, as a giant Chinese Fighting Cabbage approached him with an odd looking pitchfork weapon. The Snape backed off slightly, assessing the situation.
What followed was a terrible fight, through which the cabbage forced the Snape into seventeen different frilly hats, and even, when he was least expecting it, knocked him into a little baby’s carriage and sang, ‘Hush, Little Snapey’.
By the end of it, the Braggart was so embarrassed from the class laughing at him, that he went back to hide in the cupboard. Lupin laughed.
“Very good, Neville,” he commended, “and well done to the imaginary Chinese Fighting Cabbage. The Braggart has descended back into the cupboard. Now, who wants to go next?”
The rest of the lesson was a lot of fun, although Lupin never asked Harry to come forward to face the Braggart. By the end of it, everyone’s bellies hurt from all the laughing, and when Lupin asked Neville to come back once more to finish it off, the class got the last laugh which embarrassed the Braggart so much, it exploded into dust. The only unusual occurrence during the class was when Lupin had accidentally gotten too close to the Braggart, and it had turned into a veterinarian.
“I wonder why Lupin’s afraid of a veterinarian?” wondered Harry aloud, as they walked down the hall. Lupin soon barked after the class,
“And don’t forget to write your homework in black ink, or at least in very dark colours!”
Happy chuckled.
“And the world thinks the Harry Potter storm is pretty amazing. You wait until this book comes out.”
All the authors nodded, cheerfully and in unison.
“To ‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’!” toasted Jackie, with one of the new solid gold wine goblets, “JK Rowling’s latest creation yet!”
For Harry doesn’t realise that, even if he does manage to get to Hogwarts in the first place, adventure awaits!
Who is the ragged prisoner on the news, who looks remarkably like Harry and has the same little nose as he and Hermione? What is with the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher? Are the Dursleys completely off their rockers? You’ll find out this and more in:
‘Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban’!
And here ends Chapter Three. Join us next time for the longest and my favourite chapter yet...
Chapter Four: The Next Book About the Guy With the Thing