•chapter one•

Mrs. Arabella Figg



"If you don't make that blasted owl keep quiet, I'LL make it!" yelled a plump, purple-faced man.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry Potter knew that Uncle Vernon always kept his word, so he gave his snowy owl, Hedwig, an owl treat. "I'm sorry, Hedwig. Uncle Vernon warned me never to let you-" Harry told her, being distracted by a tapping on his bedroom window, which had not been washed for so long that he could hardly tell what was making the noise. Harry crossed his hardwood floor over to the window and opened it. In flew a minute owl with a piece of parchment attatched to its leg.

"Thanks, Pig," said Harry, obviously speaking to the minute owl. He took the parchment from its leg, and began to read it:

Harry-

Sorry if Pig took forever to get there. Considering his size, he is a bit slow. I asked mum and dad if you could stay with us for the rest of the summer, but, get this, they said "no"! They said you're going into someone else's hands. I hope it's not a Death Eater...or another muggle family. Send me an owl back when you find out who you're going to stay with, will you? Bye...good luck.

Ron

Harry sat there thinking to himself about who's hands were going to be taking him in this summer. Just then, there was a knocking on the front door. Harry rushed to the top of the stairs so he could get a glimpse of who it was. Dudley boomed into view and opened the door.

"Well, hello my dear," came a voice too familiar to Harry. It was Mrs. Figg. Everytime the Dursley's would go off on a vacation, Harry would be stuck with Mrs. Figg. He didn't much like to stay with her.

"Hullo Mrs. Figg. Why are you here? We didn't call. Although, we would be pleased if you took Harry from us," said Dudley, chuckling afterwards.

"Oh, darling, you always were the joker! No, dear, you did not call. I have a very large job for him to do this summer. Vernon! How very nice to see you," said Mrs. Figg at the sight or Uncle Vernon. "Darling, do you mind if I take young Harry away from you, just for the summer?"

"Mind? Ha! Did you hear that, Dudley? She actually thinks we would MIND!" and off Uncle Vernon and Dudley went, laughing so hard that they might nearly wet themselves.

"Well, alright then. Come, Harry, dear. I've got a lot of work for you," Mrs. Figg now directed her attention to Harry. He automatically went into his bedroom and packed up everything, even his Hogwarts things. He didn't know why he was doing it, but he couldn't stop. He carried all of his belongings down the stairs, and out the door with Mrs. Figg, not looking back or saying a word to the Dursleys.

"What-er-sort of work will I be doing for you, Mrs. Figg?" Harry asked, afraid of what the answer might be.

"What are you talking about, dear? Oh, no, no. That was a load of rubbish!" Mrs. Figg told him, in a higher more pleasant voice. "I would never put a young boy to work. Even if he could use his wand to help."

Harry was appalled. He was more than appalled. He wanted to die right there on the spot. How did a muggle know this about him? How did she know he was a wizard?

"You've gone mad," he said coolly.

"No dear. I am Mrs. Figg, yes. Mrs. Arabella Figg..."

Harry thought for a minute. Mrs. Arabella Figg...that sounded so familiar. Of course, he read about her in one of his Defense Against The Dark Arts Books.

"You're telling me that you worked side-by-side with Dumbledore, defeating the Dark Wizard, Grindlewald?" He said in amazement.

"Finally, you're starting to catch on," said Mrs. Figg, very pleased. "Ahh, here we are."

They stood in front of a cottage looking house, with windows knocked out. This was none other than her Muggle home