A/N: This takes place before Harry enters Hogwarts, he's about four or five years old.
Harry sat in a chair at Mrs. Figg house, looking at cat pictures. How could one person have so many cats in their lifetime?
"Why do you have so many cats?" asked Harry, looking up at Mrs. Figg, his large glasses sliding down his nose.
"I like cats," Mrs. Figg explained, turning the page of the phota album.
"Why don't Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia have cats?" asked Harry.
But just as Mrs. Figg was about to answer to phone rang. Standing up she told Harry to sit tight and wait for her to get back. Harry nodded happily.
"Hey Smokey!" Harry said and pulled at the grey cat's tail as he walked by the chair, unknowing of the fate that awaited him there.
Mrs. Figgs continued into the kitchen and picked up the phone.
"Hello? Mrs. Figg speaking," she said.
"Hello," said a cold voice, that made Mrs. Figg nervous, "Is a Harry Potter there?"
"Yes," Mrs. Figgs said sternly, not liking where this was going.
"May I speak to him?" the cold voice asked.
"Can I ask who this is?" Mrs. Figg demanded.
"This is," he paused, "Mr. Thomas Riddle."
"And why do you want to speak to a boy of such young age? He's too young to be buying anything," Mrs. Figg was getting angry now.
"I am one of his teachers," Mr. Thomas Riddle said, "I need to speak to him about an upcoming project."
"Alright," Mrs. Figg replied and called Harry from the living room.
He walked in, and looking up at Mrs. Figg with a confused expression, which was only multiplied by his baggy shirt and pants, and his glasses half off his nose.
Mrs. Figg couldn't help but smile at how cute Harry looked when he was confused as she handed him the phone.
"Its one of your teachers," she told him and Harry nodded.
"Hello?" Harry asked into the phone.
"Hello, Mr. Potter. Are you alone?" Mr. Riddle asked.
"No," Harry told him.
"Would you ask Mrs. Figgs if you could talk to me alone?" Mr. Riddle asked.
Harry, being little, did not suspect anything, and replied, "Okay."
"He wants to talk to me privately," Harry told Mrs. Figg.
But, Mrs. Figg was busy in the living room, dusting and cleaning.
"Okay, I'm alone," Harry told Mr. Riddle.
"Good. Now, I've something very important to talk to you about. Understand?" the teacher asked.
"Uh-huh," Harry said.
"Now, I understand you live with your Aunt and Uncle?" Mr. Riddle asked.
"Yeah," Harry said.
"I need to talk to you face to face about a project we will be doing soon in class," Mr. Riddle said.
"Okay," Harry said.
"Can you meet me in the woods at eight o'clock tonight?" Mr. Riddle asked, his cold voice unaffecting to Harry.
"Thats past my bedtime," Harry said.
"Harry, are you finished yet? You've been on the phone awfully long?" Mrs. Figgs asked, coming back into the kitchen.
"I can't talk much longer," Harry said into the phone.
"Okay, but can you be there?" Mr. Riddle, asked, his voice beginning to come urgent.
"I'm in bed then," Harry said.
"Can you sneak out? Its really important," Mr. Riddle told Harry.
"No! I'm not aloud out that late!" Harry shouted and dropped the reciever to run to Mrs. Figg.
"That guy on the phone is scary!" he cried, holding onto Mrs. Figg.
Her eyes narrowed and she walked into the kitchen, followed closely by Harry, and picked up the fallen phone.
"Hello? This is Mrs. Figg again. What kind of things are you saying to Harry, you've scared the poor boy!" Mrs. Figg said to Mr. Riddle.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Was I scaring him? I didn't mean to do that! Perhaps I should talk to you instead?" Mr. Riddle's voice was sarcastic.
"I don't believe you really are one of his teachers? Who are you?" Mrs. Figg demanded.
Harry could hear what Mr. Riddle was saying as well and he shivered.
"Lord Voldemort!" he said, cackling and the then phone went dead.
Mrs. Figg went white and she dropped the phone, just as Harry did. Harry tugged at her dress and looked questioningly at Mrs. Figg.
"Who's Lord Voldmort?" Harry asked, his past fear forgotten.
"No, Harry, you don't want to know. We've got to get out of here. If thats who it really was, then it means he's still our there and he knows where you are. That is the most important thing," Mrs. Figgs said and lead Harry through the house.
"Why does he want to get to me?" Harry wondered.
"Nevermind that, we've got to get Dumbledore," she said hurried outside, where the sun was getting low in the sky.
"Dumbledore?" Harry asked as he got into the seat next to her.
"Nevermind him either, it would be easier if you'd stop asking questions," Mrs. Figg told him.
"Why?" asked Harry.
Mrs. Figg didn't answer, instead she turned on the car and zoomed out into the street.
"Where are we going?" asked Harry, and again Mrs. Figg didn't answer.
Instead she mumbled to herself about the mysterious man on the phone and the other man she had mentioned before, all great wonders to little Harry.
"Hogwarts," she said.
"Oh," said Harry, wondering how she would shrink them enough to fit on a wart.
After about five minutes more of driving, Harry spoke up again, "But this isn't the way to the Zoo," he protested.
"What?" asked Mrs. Figg, glancing at Harry for a second.
"You said we were going to hog warts," he asked, confused.
"Oh! No, no, thats the name of the place!" she answered, smiling to herself.
"Oh," said, Harry, thinking that over.
Suddenly, she swerved and pulled into a driveway. Pulling Harry out of the car she walked up to the door and knocked. After a minute or so, another old women answered.
"You brought Harry Potter!" she crowed, "and at this time of day too!"
Harry just stared blankly at the new woman as she invited them in.
"I need to speak to Dumbledore," Mrs. Figg said gravely, "and I had to disconnect my fireplace, with all these muggles coming in and out of it."
"Yes, yes, but why?" asked the woman.
"Its about You-Know-Who," said Mrs. Figg as she tossed some dust into the fire and shouted, "Albus Dumbledore!"
"No," said Harry, causing both women to look at him.
"What was that?" asked Mrs. Figg.
"No," said Harry.
"No what?" asked the woman.
"I don't know who," Harry said.
The woman gave a short laugh, "we don't like to speak his name, dear."
"Oh," said Harry, very confused.
Just then though, Dumbledore's head popped into the fireplace, causing Harry to run behind a chair.
"Arabella!" said Dumbledore, surprised.
"While I was watching Harry, I got an interesting phonecall from one of Harry's teachers," Mrs. Figg began.
"Is Harry here?" Dumbledore asked, looking around, Harry peaked out from behind the chair.
"Yes, but it was a man named Mr. Thomas Riddle. At the end of the phone call, after scaring Harry, he admitted to be.... You-Know-Who!" Mrs. Figgs said hurriedly.
"Please say his real name," said Dumbledore, "and it could have been a hoax. Why so sure?"
"If you heard him... his voice... the way he laughed... I nearly had a heart attack!" Mrs. Figgs shivered just thinking about it.
"Why is that guy's head in the fireplace?" asked Harry, now brave enough to come out and stare at Dumbledore in wonder.
"You are going to have to erase his memory of this, you know," Dumbledore said, smiling at Harry.
"Yes, I know, but this was a matter of utmost emergency, Dumbledore. He knows where Harry is!" Mrs. Figgs said urgently.
"Then we will have to take care of that," Dumbledore said grimly.
"How?" asked Mrs. Figgs.
"Bring Harry to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said grimly, all the while looking at Harry, who didn't have a clue that his life was being discussed.