Free Harry Putter and the Chamber of Cheesecakes by Timothy R. O'Donnell Page B

He was also a Perfect, which gave him a smug satisfaction.  He was one, while Harry was not.
                Harry and Faco had clashed ever since their second day of preschool, six years ago.  It was “show and tell” day.  While all the other kids brought in their favorite, cool, and in some cases very expensive toys, Harry had brought in his dust-bunny collection.  Hermione remembered Faco’s derisive words to this day, “What’s the matter with you Putter?  Don’t you have any real toys?”  She quietly kept her mold collection in her backpack, and said she had forgotten her “show and tell.”
                Since then, Faco was a constant adversary of theirs, although their spats with him were minor when compared to the life and death struggles they had so far with his father and Lord Moldyfart. 
                If Faco had any secret contact with his father since last spring, he was likely to know about all of the students who helped Harry defeat Faco’s father and the rest of the Fungus Eaters.  He would most likely attempt to exact some form of retribution as revenge on Ron, Hermione, Neville, Looney, and Ginny.  He also wouldn’t be alone in his efforts.  He often consorted with two brainless but muscular goons, Shabby and Foil, each of whose fathers were Fungus Eaters and likewise on the run from Ministry authorities.
     
                “Oh, no, it’s Maldoy!” said Ron.  He was suddenly nervous; his proximity to Harry had long been the source of his safety from Maldoy and his bullies.  What was he going to do without Harry around this year to protect him?  He’d have to avoid confronting Faco for as long as possible, and hope that the bullies would bother someone else.
                “Help, Help!” called the muffled voice.
                “For Pete’s sake!  Give him a hand with the door, Ron!” said Hermione.
                “I don’t see why I should, except that I won’t have to look at him as long,” said Ron, getting up, trying to sound like he wasn’t intimidated, and failing miserably as his voice cracked.
                “Here, hold this,” Ron held Nemoy out to Hermione.
                “No!  NO!  I mean it Ron, get that thing away from me.”
                Ron sighed, went into the hallway, and held open the door for Faco as he wheeled a humongous suitcase onto the next train car.  He wondered why Faco was moving his own luggage; usually the Popular Rich Kids had servants to move their luggage for them.  Thank God, Shabby and Foil weren’t around.
                Faco glanced at Ron and did a double take.  “Ewwwww, what’s that thing?”
                “Huh?  Oh, you mean Nemoy?  He’s my pet squid,” replied Ron.
                “Cheesley you are one sick freak.  You better not get any of that slime on me if you know what’s good for you.”
                “Help, Help!” came the muffled cry from the suitcase.
                “I don’t think that should be too hard.”
                “You do and I’ll have Shabby and Foil rearrange your face.  When they get through with you, no one will know the difference between you and that ugly octopus.”
                “Yeah, nice to see you again too, Faco.  You haven’t lost any of your charm, I see.”
                “Shut your mouth, slimeball.”
                “Shut yours, …”  Ron’s retort was cut short when one of Nemoy’s tentacles suddenly curled into his mouth.  Ron let go of the door to remove it.  Faco was repulsed.
                “Uuuuuck,” said Ron, wiping his tongue off on the sleeve of his robe.
     
                Ron returned to his compartment saying, “Furthermore, … wait a sec, was that Harry’s voice coming from that suitcase?”
                “Harry,