Harry was stuck with Mrs. Figg again.
*********************
The Dursleys were celebrating some great business deal Uncle Vernon had made by going on a cruise in Tahiti. Without Harry, of course.
Harry felt stupid. He had expected that he would go, too. But when he asked what he should pack for Tahiti, Aunt Petunia laughed in his face.
"And why would we take you to Tahiti with us to spoil our trip?! Ha! No, boy, you're staying with Mrs. Figg."
"Oh, " said Harry.
He considered threatening her with telling his godfather, Sirius, who had been arrested for murder. (Harry never saw a point in letting the Dursleys know that Sirius Black was innocent). But then he looked up and saw the calendar. The cruise was scheduled from August 26th to September 5th. He would miss the train to school if he went to Tahiti, so he said nothing about Sirius. Instead, Harry braced himself and asked Uncle Vernon, "How will I get to Kings Cross to catch the train for, er, school?"
Uncle Vernon turned a nasty purple shade at the mention of his school and grunted, "Suppose Mrs. Figg'll have to take you to London."
**********************
So now Harry was stuck with Mrs. Figg for a week. She had several new cats, all of whom she had to introduce to Harry individually. Harry, having never spent more than a day or two at a time with Mrs. Figg before, had never realized how much she depended on her desk calendar. She wrote everything on this calendar. She never failed to rip off a day, so it always had the correct date, unlike most people with desk calendars, who tend to leave it on January 2nd when it's actually July 31st. She lived by that calendar. If it wasn't on the calendar, it wasn't happening. On the second day of his stay, Mrs. Fig realized that she needed to go to the grocery store soon. She said "Oh dear, I can't go today, I haven't marked it on the calendar. I'll have to put it down for Wednesday."
On Saturday, Mrs. Figg went upstairs to read to one of her cats, and Harry figured he'd watch some TV.
"Where's the remote?" Harry muttered, standing up and searching around for it. He wanted to find the remote to put on the mute during commercials. He was tired of hearing about how he should buy a new Camry with low percent APR financing, or ask his doctor about some Asthma medicine.
" Ouch!" Harry tripped over an afghan-covered ottoman by Mrs. Figg's desk. Flailing his arms, he managed to stand up straight again. He didn't notice that he had hit the desk calendar, ripping of a page which went sailing neatly down into the trashcan.
"Aha!" He saw the remote.
Mrs. Figg came down to make dinner at 7. (She had read a whole novel to Snowflake, her cat. Harry thought the cat had fallen asleep, but Mrs. Figg said that Snowflake enjoyed the book very much). Her first stop was the calendar to see what she had scheduled to make for dinner today.
"Oh, gracious me!" said Mrs. Figg. "I thought it was Thursday! But it's Friday!"
Harry frowned. "That's impossible." He said. "You were going to go to the store Wednesday, and you went to the store yesterday, which means today must be Thursday."
"That cannot be correct! I have very good calendar keeping skills! If my calendar says it's Friday, then it's Friday!" Mrs. Figg, looking more menacing than ever, tried to tower over him, but was too short and fell onto the couch when she rose onto her toes. Harry struggled not to laugh, but he never had been a very good actor.
"Are you laughing at me?" cried Mrs. Figg imperiously. Then, out of the blue, she began laughing. Harry let it out and began cracking up. He fell on an ottoman, laughing so hard he thought he'd break apart into a million pieces, right along with Mrs. Figg. For the first time, he thought that maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Figg wasn't so bad.
Two days later, Mrs. Figg took Harry to King's Cross Station. She stopped in front of Platform 9, which he had told her was his platform number.
"Thank you!" said Harry.
"See you next year, sonny." Mrs. Figg waved.
Harry lugged his trunk and Hedwig out of the car, turned around, and walked down into the station. He looked up at the electric sign that always had the date and time. He wanted to see how much time he had before the train left. He expected to see " Sunday, September 1, 10:45 AM" or so.
It read:
SATURDAY, AUGUST 31 10:45 AM
*********************
The Dursleys were celebrating some great business deal Uncle Vernon had made by going on a cruise in Tahiti. Without Harry, of course.
Harry felt stupid. He had expected that he would go, too. But when he asked what he should pack for Tahiti, Aunt Petunia laughed in his face.
"And why would we take you to Tahiti with us to spoil our trip?! Ha! No, boy, you're staying with Mrs. Figg."
"Oh, " said Harry.
He considered threatening her with telling his godfather, Sirius, who had been arrested for murder. (Harry never saw a point in letting the Dursleys know that Sirius Black was innocent). But then he looked up and saw the calendar. The cruise was scheduled from August 26th to September 5th. He would miss the train to school if he went to Tahiti, so he said nothing about Sirius. Instead, Harry braced himself and asked Uncle Vernon, "How will I get to Kings Cross to catch the train for, er, school?"
Uncle Vernon turned a nasty purple shade at the mention of his school and grunted, "Suppose Mrs. Figg'll have to take you to London."
**********************
So now Harry was stuck with Mrs. Figg for a week. She had several new cats, all of whom she had to introduce to Harry individually. Harry, having never spent more than a day or two at a time with Mrs. Figg before, had never realized how much she depended on her desk calendar. She wrote everything on this calendar. She never failed to rip off a day, so it always had the correct date, unlike most people with desk calendars, who tend to leave it on January 2nd when it's actually July 31st. She lived by that calendar. If it wasn't on the calendar, it wasn't happening. On the second day of his stay, Mrs. Fig realized that she needed to go to the grocery store soon. She said "Oh dear, I can't go today, I haven't marked it on the calendar. I'll have to put it down for Wednesday."
On Saturday, Mrs. Figg went upstairs to read to one of her cats, and Harry figured he'd watch some TV.
"Where's the remote?" Harry muttered, standing up and searching around for it. He wanted to find the remote to put on the mute during commercials. He was tired of hearing about how he should buy a new Camry with low percent APR financing, or ask his doctor about some Asthma medicine.
" Ouch!" Harry tripped over an afghan-covered ottoman by Mrs. Figg's desk. Flailing his arms, he managed to stand up straight again. He didn't notice that he had hit the desk calendar, ripping of a page which went sailing neatly down into the trashcan.
"Aha!" He saw the remote.
Mrs. Figg came down to make dinner at 7. (She had read a whole novel to Snowflake, her cat. Harry thought the cat had fallen asleep, but Mrs. Figg said that Snowflake enjoyed the book very much). Her first stop was the calendar to see what she had scheduled to make for dinner today.
"Oh, gracious me!" said Mrs. Figg. "I thought it was Thursday! But it's Friday!"
Harry frowned. "That's impossible." He said. "You were going to go to the store Wednesday, and you went to the store yesterday, which means today must be Thursday."
"That cannot be correct! I have very good calendar keeping skills! If my calendar says it's Friday, then it's Friday!" Mrs. Figg, looking more menacing than ever, tried to tower over him, but was too short and fell onto the couch when she rose onto her toes. Harry struggled not to laugh, but he never had been a very good actor.
"Are you laughing at me?" cried Mrs. Figg imperiously. Then, out of the blue, she began laughing. Harry let it out and began cracking up. He fell on an ottoman, laughing so hard he thought he'd break apart into a million pieces, right along with Mrs. Figg. For the first time, he thought that maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Figg wasn't so bad.
Two days later, Mrs. Figg took Harry to King's Cross Station. She stopped in front of Platform 9, which he had told her was his platform number.
"Thank you!" said Harry.
"See you next year, sonny." Mrs. Figg waved.
Harry lugged his trunk and Hedwig out of the car, turned around, and walked down into the station. He looked up at the electric sign that always had the date and time. He wanted to see how much time he had before the train left. He expected to see " Sunday, September 1, 10:45 AM" or so.
It read:
SATURDAY, AUGUST 31 10:45 AM