A/N

I finally edited this fanfic of mine that has been posted now for over a year. I had so many mistakes. This is my first (and only) fanfic that I ever wrote. I hope you like! Please be nice when reviewing!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character's yadda, yadda, yadda.

THE REAL MRS. FIGG

Summer was always Harry Potter's least favorite time of the year. Summer meant spending two long months with his Muggle family, the Dursley's. Hogwarts had only let out two weeks ago and already Harry missed the wizard world. He missed it more than he ever had before now, knowing that the Dark Lord, Voldemort had risen.

Not a night went by that Harry didn't have any nightmares, reliving the events that happened just weeks ago. Not a day went by without Harry seeing Cedric lying dead on the ground, over and over again in his mind. Harry jumped at every unusual sound he heard and everywhere he looks, he sees Voldemort, only to find out that it was just some stranger on the street.

He needed his friends now more than ever. He anxiously awaited the arrival of Pig, Ron's owl, hoping that she would bring him a letter saying to go and stay with the Weasley's, but it still hasn't come.

Harry longed for someone to talk to, but all he had were the Dursley's, who, if it was even possible, ignored him more than ever (Harry figured that it was due to their disturbing experience last summer. The Weasley's had came and the Dursley's house, blowing up a wall in the process. Not to mention Dudley's tongue ended up four feet long by the time the Weasley's had left.). They haven't said more than two words to him since he got back. That's why it was a bit of a shock that one night as Harry was crossing off a day on his countdown chart, Uncle Vernon called for him.

Harry walked down to the living room, wondering if he was in trouble. Uncle Vernon was sitting on a chair, his back turned to Harry, eating popcorn and watching TV. He didn't even look at harry as he entered. Harry had to clear his throat to let Uncle Vernon know that he was in the room.

"Pack your bags" He said finally, eyes still on the TV screen. "You're staying at Mrs. Figg's house for the weekend."

"What!?" Harry shouted. He hated going to Mrs. Figg's house. Her house smelled like cats and she talked about nothing but them. "I'm not going there!!"

He immediately regretted shouting like that because Uncle Vernon stood up to face him so suddenly that the bowl of popcorn he was eating toppled over. He looked so angry as he let out things that he had obliviously been holding in for a long time.

"DON'T TALK BACK TO ME BOY" He roared. "WE'RE GOING CAMPING AND THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL THAT WE'LL LET A FREAK LIKE TAGGING ALONG!"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Uncle Vernon continued.

"YOU'RE GOING TO MRS FIGG"S AND YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING FUNNY WHILE YOU'RE THERE."

Harry tried to protest again but Uncle Vernon still was not finished.

"AND NONE OF THAT, I'LL TELL MY GODFATHER CRAP 'CAUSE I AIN'T GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE. I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF YOU WIZARD PEOPLE AND WHILE I'M ON THE SUBJECT, NEVER, EVER AGAIN ASK ABOUT THOSE WEASLEY FREAKS COMING TO MY HOME. YOU PROBABLY THOUGHT I FORGOT ABOUT LAST SUMMER BUT."

He probably would of kept going if it wasn't for a shout from Dudley from upstairs in his room. As much as he loved hearing Harry get yelled at, it wasn't worth missing his favorite Friday night show.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning," Uncle Vernon said, much more calmly. "Be ready."

With that, he sat back down, eyes once again on the TV screen. Harry, who know better than to argue anymore, went back upstairs to his room, hearing sniggers from Dudley's room an the way.

Harry gloomily packed enough of Dudley's old clothes to last him the weekend. He felt so stupid, being nearly 15 and having to go to a babysitter, but there was no way that the Dursley's would ever let him stay at their house alone.

The next morning, Harry was woken up early by Aunt Petunia's banging on his door.

"Get up," she shouted to him. "We've gotta take you to Mrs.Figg's."

Harry groaned as he put his glasses on and got out of bed. Though he got up early, it was quite awhile until they finally left. Dudley kept insisting that he should bring his TV, not grasping the fact that there was no electricity in tents. Finally, he settled with bringing his little, black and white, potable TV, which uses batteries.

Finally, they pulled out of the driveway. Just a minute later, they pulled up outside Mrs.Figg's house, two streets away.

"Remember Harry, don't do anything funny," Uncle Vernon told Harry, as he got out of the car, bag in hand. As soon as Harry knocked on the front door of Mrs. Figg's house, the Dursley's drove off.

Mrs. Figg answered the door after a few seconds went by.

"Hello Harry," she said, letting him inside. "It's been a while. You haven't change a bit." She said, looking him over.

Harry, feeling uncomfortable as Mrs. Figg examined him, looked at the floor. Because he did that, he didn't notice how Mrs. Figg's eyes stopped at his scar for a brief second.

"You grew quite a bit," Mrs. Figg said, "You still have that awful hair though."

Harry, embarrassingly, tried to pat his hair down.

"Come in here and sit down," she said, gesturing towards the living room.

Harry went to a sofa and sat down, only to jump up again with a yell.

"Oh, it's only Boots," Mrs. Figg said as Boots, Mrs. Figg's favorite cat ran off. Harry never liked Boots. Boots was a black cat who always seemed to stare at Harry with those yellow, creepy eyes of his.

Harry gave a week smile and sat down.

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Figg said excitedly, "You wouldn't believe how many cats I've had since I last saw you." She went over to a book shelf and pulled out a huge photo album, then took a seat next to Harry.

As she was showing Harry pictures of all sorts of cats, he thought gloomily to himself that this would be an awful weekend. And he was right.

He spent the weekend hearing stories about every cat that Mrs. Figg has ever owned, helping her groom the cats of hers, and playing with them. She even made him take Boots for a walk. Harry still had a funny feeling about Boots. Something about him seemed strange. Boots really gave Harry the creeps. By the time it was Sunday evening, Harry was almost happy to see the Dursley's come to pick him up.

Harry took so many showers that week, trying to get cat smell off of him. He glad to be away from Mrs. Figg and hoped he wouldn't have to go back for a long time.

But, when Friday came along again, Uncle Vernon came to Harry's room to tell him that they were going to go to see Aunt Marge that weekend and that he would have to go to Mrs. Figg's house again.

Harry thought that this was very strange because the Dursley's rarely went on trips and now they were suddenly going two weekends in a row? It just didn't seem right. He didn't want to go to Mrs. Figg's again, but there was no way out of it. The next day harry was back at her house.

After a long Saturday, finding out everything that he didn't want to know about Mrs. Figg's very first cat, he went to the guestroom where he was sleeping. He got in bed and fell asleep almost immediately.

Harry was dreaming wonderful dream where he was back at Hogwarts and playing in the Quidditch finals. He had just spotted the snitch when something jumped on him, waking him up instantly. He opened his eyes to see glowing, yellow eyes staring at him.

"Get off of me Boots," he said, shoving him off of him. Boots disappeared into the darkness.

Harry tried to get back asleep but couldn't. His throat had gone dry so he got up to get a drink.

As he passed the door that leads into the living room, he heard voices. He peeked inside and saw Mrs. Figg. Her back was facing him and she was looking at the lighted fireplace. She was talking to someone, yet Harry didn't see anyone else, nor was she holding a phone. Harry listened closely, trying to make out what was being said.

"He's here," he made out the words that Mrs. Figg was saying, "Don't worry. He's where you want him."

Harry heard muffled sounds of another voice but couldn't make anything out.

"I'm taking care of it," Mrs. Figg continued, "Harry doesn't suspect a thing."

Harry gasped as he heard this. He gasped a bit to loud because Mrs. Figg suddenly stopped talking.

"I heard something. Gotta go." She said. She put out the fire and everything became dark. Harry could hear her footsteps approaching the door. Quickly, Harry went into the hallway closet to hide, leaving the door open just enough for him to peek through.

"Hello," came Mrs. Figg's voice, sounding dangerously close. "Harry?"

Harry could make out an outline of her as she stopped in front of the closet. Then she did something that almost made Harry cry out in shock. She rose something in the air and said, "Lumos" and light suddenly shown in the hallway. Harry couldn't believe it. In her hands was a wand, which meant that she was a witch!

Mrs. Figg looked around a little more, then walked away. Harry, afraid to come out of his hiding place, still couldn't believe it. Mrs. Figg, a witch! All these years that Harry had known her he never would of guessed. Harry's shock was quickly replaced with fear. He was alone with her, with no wand or weapon of any kind. Who was she talking to? What was she taking care of? These questions troubled Harry. All he knew was that she couldn't be good. She was probably a death eater, he thought, waiting for the perfect time to kill him.

Harry wasn't going to let that happen. He slowly opened the closet door and crept out. Suddenly the lights went on and Mrs Figg was standing right in front of him.

"Hello Harry," she said with a twisted smile on her face.