Harvey Potluck and the Canadian Mystery Dollar

Things had come to an abrupt end the previous year for Harvey Potluck, when he failed to complete his third year at Hogwash Military Academy and Magic Technical School when early sales projections failed to help motivate the book's completion. But since it was published and made a substantial windfall for its publishing house, Harvey decided to return to Hogwash for his fourth year.

He was excited to find himself in the company of his best friends Phil and Persephone as soon as he entered school grounds. The girl threw her arms around him as Phil gave him a very boy-friendly "high five."

"Oh, Harvey! I worried about you so when your last chapter ended with no resolution at all to the plot!" she exclaimed.

"Yes. It's good thing I thought to use the trapping spell to imprison the Wish Bitch forever in her own suitcase," Harvey quickly expositioned. "But still, it's good to see you all again. I even miss Bathton Bullwark, my arch-nemesis."

"Ugh. Don't say that," said Phil, but it was too late, as it had already been said. "Have you heard that Bullwark's father has been promoted to the Pope of Magic?"

The Pope of Magic? This was indeed serious. After the Grand Seer of the Society of Magic, the Royal Emperor of Gainsburry, the First Pompadour, and the Vice-President of Marketing, there was no more important a person in the world of magical people. What kind of chaos could Bullwark Senior be planning? Harvey decided to save the answer for the end of the school year, so as to make the book novel-sized.

Harvey wasted no time or paragraphs getting up to Dimpleturd's office. The Head Boss of Hogwash always knew what to do, except in those rare times Harvey and his friends were completely fucked and Dimpleturd was inexplicably oblivious. Harvey immediately told Dimpleturd about Bullwark Senior's promotion, but this was one of those times when Dimpleturd seemed to know everything and wasn't surprised.

"Jackson Bullwark is a devious sort, but is well-respected by everyone in the magic world, as they have sort of a hard-on for evil shits," said Dimpleturd. "We'll have to play our Magic: The Gathering cards close to the vest for the time being, Harvey. Until then…"

Dimpleturd rose from his chair and approached a stainless steel sphere lying on a shelf. He took it down and handed it to Harvey, who could see his own reflection in its surface. But the reflection didn't look quite right—it seemed, somehow, to be a different person staring back at him. And this one looked a little evil. Or maybe queer, Harvey seldom distinguished the two.

"What is this, Professor Dimpleturd?" Harvey asked, because Dimpleturd would simply refuse to say anything unless Harvey asked an obvious question first.

"That is a Lanstir," Dimpleturd said, his kindly eyes all aglow with fresh hashish. "It is a strange and wondrous tool, Harvey. To good male witches—"

"Wizards."

"Yes! Thank you. Geez, why do I always forget that word?" Dimpleturd continued, "To us good wizards, it can be a powerful way to defend yourself against black—er, African-American magic. But to the evil wizard, Harvey, it is a doorway to controlling the world and destroying all that is good. I am giving this to you right now for reasons that will never become apparent, but I give it to you with this warning —you must never use it."

Harvey started to hand it back. "Perhaps then you should keep it safe in your office—"

"Christ, no, I've got too many of the goddamn things as it is." Dimpleturd stared ominously into Harvey's eyes. "But I warn you now, Harvey: Don't ever let it fall into the hands of… of…"

"Phenom Retarded?"

"Yes! The most evil wizard on the planet, Phenom Retarded! Geez… why do I always want to save Dave Adams? It's Phenom Retarded, that's it."

Harvey suspected he was in for his most dangerous year yet, which is a great thing to put inside the dust jacket.

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